Today I’d like to talk about the little nuances about the Chinese language, specifically the fact that it’s impenetrable and bewildering in every single way. Not only are these hieroglyphics plastered across all that is meaningful here, but speaking it poses a greater threat to the novice tongue. You see, almost every word here has multiple meanings that need to be placed within the context of the entire phrase and spoken with the right intonation in order to be understood. There are four main intonations, and here are how they sound…ok, I just spoke them out loud to the computer, and I realize you probably didn’t get that, so you kids will have to buckle down and use those imaginations of yours.
Basically, one word uttered from your lips can mean up to a dozen or two different meanings, even if you use the correct intonation. While the Chinese government has tried to be helpful and to move into the world of computers and hence, typing, through establishing a system of words based on the Latin alphabet (pinying), it still doesn’t have the correct intonations listed on maps, menus, et al. Let me give you an analogous example using English.
Say you walk into a Krispy Kreme. “Hi, can I please have a glazed donut?”
The donut engineer hands you a chocolate covered donut.
You respond, “No, I’m sorry, not that glazed donut, but THAT glazed donut.”
“Oh, you mean a glazed donut.”
“Yes, thanks.”
She hands you a maple cake donut.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t want that glazed donut, I want that glazed donut.”
She hands you an apple fritter.
“No no, that’s not what I wanted. I wanted a GLAZED donut.”
She hands you a Bud Lite.
“Yes, thank you very much,” you say.
“What? What did you say about my mom?” She gets indignant.
“No, I meant “THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”
“Yes, I can’t believe Arnold won, either.”
You see what I mean? That is how the interchange is here if you aren’t sure which intonation to use and with which words to use the words you intend to use. Got it?
Sometimes, you come across a few words that serve as all-purpose good-time words.
Bao.
Say it out loud and let it dangle in the roof of your mouth. That means “bun,” and makes me think about biting into a plump Chinese bun on a cold morning, letting the juices from the meet run down your throat, and all the steam that comes out of your mouth because the “bao” is just a little too hot.
Bao.
Say it like your belching. That means “full,” as in after a huge meal, and it makes me think about leaning back in a chair at a table full of laughing and satisfied friends, the wine and pasta still fresh in my mouth. There’s nothing like feeling “bao” in the presence of good food and friends, places like North Beach in San Francisco, the North End in Boston, and any street in Paris.
Bao.
Say it like you’re spitting something out. That means “hug,” as in the biggest bear hug you could probably get from someone you haven’t seen in too long of a time, whether it be 30 minutes or a year. For me, I miss the “bao” that I left behind when I came here to Shanghai, the kind that is only reserved for soothing aches.
What a perfect note to segue into Dido. On Monday I finally met up with Mike, who had returned from his vacation from Hong Kong the night before. It was good to see another familiar face, and I think he was relieved to have another good friend from back home here with whom to play video games. The next night, at my prodding, he took me and Judy out to one of the shadiest operations I have ever seen. I had been desperate to buy the new Dido CD “Life for Rent,” which was released in the U.S. on the 1st of October. Sadly enough, my Dido missions were failures and always ended with me sobbing into my hands on the corner and Judy trying valiantly to console me.
This time was different. We turned into a small and dark alley and to an even smaller and darker establishment with a small flickering sign that read “Coffee Club” above the doorway. Inside, two young girls sat at two small tables counting money. Mike stormed past them and into the back of the “restaurant,” where he opened a door into a room and subsequently opened the door to my great Shanghai happiness (thus far). The room contained stacks and stacks of DVDs and CDs, neatly arranged in boxes and on the disc shelves wallpapered over each wall. The room was not large, but my eyes were as I gasped at the sheer magnificence of such an efficiently-run bootlegging operation. And what did I see leaning on the third shelf from the bottom on the CD wall but Dido, irrepressibly smiling on the front of her album cover.
Could this be it? At that moment I realized what Coronado must have felt staring at those massive chambers of gold. As I picked up the CD, I was afraid that it would evaporate in my hands, that the whole thing was some sort of apparition and I would turn around and see Ashton Kuchter saunter in and smugly claim that I had once again been “Punk’d!” Alas, I dreamt a dream, and that dream came true. In my hand I held a $1.20 copy of “Life For Rent.” The heavens opened up, the angels sang, and God himself came down and kicked me around a bit for buying illegal contraband, but it didn’t matter to me. No Angel could stop me from “Life for Rent.”
The album is splendid. I think that only Sarah McLachlan can sing about longing and heartache the way Dido can. “White Flag” is the crème de la crème of the album, when she sings about the fiancé that she left behind to pursue her career.
“And when we meet, and I’m sure we will”
It’s emotionally rejuvenating to hear someone sing about the faith that you want to feel in your body as well. The song “Life For Rent” is about all of us who have felt afraid of being owned, of committing to something, of always being on the run. Maybe those of aren’t so alone after all.
OK, I know there are a lot of people who aren’t into Dido and won’t find any of this interesting, so I’ll stop being a cheese-puff and tell you guys that if you have yahoo messenger, all it takes is a webcam or even just a microphone and we can see and talk to each other online for free. Roger was just telling me in real-time about how he voted for Gary Coleman in the California Recall because everyone was telling him to vote for Arnold, and he thought they meant Arnold from “Different Strokes.” That’s the kind of shit you want to HEAR from your friends and not get over e-mail.
Hope to see you online soon.
-Eric-
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