Learner-friendly language in some ways: 00 (An introduction)

(This is my simplistic summary, not a serious pedagogic thesis.)

The Chinese language has a fearsome reputation in general, with so many seemingly insurmountable hurdles in the way of the learner who is brave enough to venture into its realm.

    The script is unique (the overlaps with Korean [pre-1970s] and Japanese [post 4th/5th centuries AD] are borrowings by those languages).  A lot of European languages share the same alphabet, which generally makes it easier for people from one European country to learn the language of another European country.

    The sounds:  Chinese is a tonal language, which most non-Chinese people have trouble managing.  (I'm only thinking of Mandarin which has four main basic tones [vs, say, Cantonese which has six], and standard readings [not tone changes when uttered in combination].)

    The grammar is not unique (in some ways, it's similar to German and Japanese, e.g., with the main verb coming at the end of the sentence -- my simplistic summary from my own limited knowledge), but it does vary quite a bit from English, the language that has been the global language.

    Now for the good news before you decide to give up on the language altogether:  there are elements to the language that make life much easier for the learner of Chinese (than for the learner of English).

Double standards: 05 (London / Somerset)

 

An English friend had polio when he was 16, which left him with problems in the legs (he walked with a Zimmer frame) and hands.

    Because of this, it wasn’t convenient for him to dine out, so I’d go and cook a Chinese meal in his flat.  

    This was in the second half of the 70s when ingredients for Chinese cooking were not so readily available outside Chinatown, so I’d go all the way to Chinatown for them (e.g., bean sauce/paste in a jar, ginger, bean sprouts) and to local shops for others (e.g., fresh fish for steamed fish, Chinese-style).  

    Each time, I’d lug everything to his flat, including my wok (shipped out from Singapore), and back to my own place after the meal.

    This friend had a brother living out in Somerset, S.W. England, in a thatched cottage.  He was invited out there one day to stay for a week, and asked me along as well, reminding me to pack my (manual) typewriter — to type up his scripts for the plays he regularly submitted to radio and/or television stations.

    Day Three into the stay, I received a phone call from an ex-boss (American), saying he was coming to London (all the way from LA), staying only for two days.  (I’d given my contact number in Somerset in a letter to the ex-boss after he’d written earlier to say he’d be coming over from LA but not with precise dates.  Those were the days when things had to be pre-planned / pre-arranged via snail mail.)

    I said to the English friend I had to cut short my Somerset stay to get back to London, as I wanted to see this ex-boss who’d been kind to me when I was working for him in Singapore in 1977 while waiting for my UK visa.  When this ex-boss went to work for Hughes Tool Company in LA and was asked to start his own department at one point, he asked me to go and be his secretary.  That was how well we’d got on.

    The English friend was most unhappy about this:  “I’ve given you the opportunity of getting away from the crowded and stressful environment in London, to have a relaxing break in the countryside, yet here you are, wanting to charge off back to London just to see this ex-boss.”

    He said he wanted to give me the opportunity of having a relaxing break in the countryside, yet he made sure to ask me to pack my typewriter to type up his scripts…

(London and Somerset, 1979)