Essay: On how to kiss and ride
Learning traditional Chinese is notoriously difficult. Suyash Desai writes of his adventures as he attempts to master the language
The Chinese language has been my Mount Everest ever since I began studying it in mid 2018. For a researcher working on Chinese defence and foreign policies, there is no escape from learning the language. Like most early Everest climbers, I was wounded and failed on multiple occasions. The study of Chinese requires enormous amounts of time and dedication and is difficult to pursue alongside a job. Earlier this year, I finally found the courage to quit work in India and make my way to Taiwan to study the language properly. Taiwan is perhaps the only country that still uses traditional Chinese script.
Did I accept the challenge to climb Everest off-season? Yes, indeed. As the name suggests, learning simplified Chinese is relatively easier than learning the traditional script. The proponents of the simplified script argue that the Chinese writing system was challenging for newer generations as the traditional characters have much more complex strokes than the simplified ones. Therefore, the script was simplified starting in 1956 after the People’s Republic of China (PRC) formed its government over the mainland in 1949. However, select texts also highlight that even the Kuomintang, which ruled Taiwan after 1949, had developed a draft plan for character simplification in 1935 and made references to simplified characters in 1946. But Taiwan still uses the traditional script, and thus, my task became tougher.
I flew to Taiwan in February 2022. On the flight itself, I realised that the challenge was manifold. I asked the flight attendant for some noodles, and to my horror, she served me cold noodles. On consulting Google Translate, I realised that I had asked for cold noodles, a delicacy in Taiwan. After two months in Taiwan, it is now my go-to dish whenever I eat out. Every 24/7 mart in Taiwan serves cold noodles – you only have to mix in the sauces and veggies. Not just noodles, tea and coffee at the local stores (apart from international coffee franchises) too are served cold. A caffeine addict, at first, I couldn’t comprehend why a cup of lukewarm coffee was being served when I had specifically asked for hot coffee (re kafei). I had to ask the attendant to heat it at least three times before I could bring myself to drink it (“Qing jia re - Please add hot”). I could have asked a fourth time but wisely decided against it. She already seemed agitated at my repeated requests in broken Chinese. Clearly, unlike with noodles, I am still struggling with the idea of drinking lukewarm coffee.
How I wish that was the only struggle I’ve had to contend with when it comes to food and beverages. When I arrived in the country, Taiwan had a 21-day quarantine policy (14 plus 7). It has now been reduced to 15 days (10 plus 5). A friend had warned me about the food served during quarantine so I carried a lot of Indian sauces and tastemakers. On the first day, I was served pork. Like many Indian non-vegetarians, I don’t usually go beyond chicken and eggs. But on that day, with the excitement of landing in a new country, I found the courage to try pork. I quickly concluded that it would be the last time. For the duration of my quarantine, I used Indian sauces and tastemakers as curries with rice and salads. I had informed the hotel to only serve me vegetarian food. To my surprise, in Taiwan, an egg is considered vegetarian and is mixed with every actual vegetable. But no complaints here; I loved it. Now, two months into my stay, my constitution seems to have changed. I felt sick immediately after eating the Indian instant noodles doused in the sauces and tastemakers that I had brought with me. I guess I have got used to Taiwanese food.
Apart from food, I continue to struggle with the Chinese language every day. Though I know the language, the strain of using it correctly outside the classroom is tremendous. At a local shop, instead of asking, “Duo shao qian (How much does it cost?)”, I asked the lady attendant, “Ni dua da (How old are you?)”. Her look was worse than the one on my dear departed dad’s face when I informed him of my interest in opting for Arts over Science.
Then there was the time I saw a strange hoarding at Zuoying Terminal, Kaohsiung, a central station that connects high-speed rail, city metro, provincial railway lines and local and provincial buses. While the Chinese text pointed to the exit (qu kou) with the parking area on the first floor (yi lou lin ting qu), the English translation read “Kiss and ride”. For a whole minute, I wondered about the utility of that parking space before it struck me that whoever came up with that one definitely needs a class in English.
Another time, I requested my roommate, who understands Chinese much better than I do, to buy a mosquito repellent. He returned with a migraine balm instead. Now, in an effort to save money and optimise the use of everything we buy, we use it on mosquito bites.
Another friend had it much worse. While bargaining at the night market, she said “Er bai wu” instead of “Liang bai wu”. The first means stupid and the second stands for $250. The shopkeeper grew enraged because she thought she was being called stupid for not settling for a cheaper rate!
Other foreign students have similar stories. I handed the mess attendant a thousand dollar note not knowing it was old tender. She pronounced it fake, stated that I shouldn’t be circulating fake notes, and asked me to go to the bank and get it changed. I didn’t understand a thing and responded with “Correct (Dui), I am from India (Wo shi Yindu ren), and I want food (Wo yao chifan)”. The matter was only resolved when a local Taiwanese student, who was fluent in English sorted out things. God bless that boy!
Whether in Taiwan or China, tones (shengdiao) are extremely important, and I landed in an awkward position by getting it wrong. For instance, “mai” is both “buy” and “sell” in Chinese. However, it is pronounced differently in each instance. I went to a local departmental store, which was selling Indian products and said, “Wo yao mai tou you,” meaning “I want to buy hair oil.” The shopkeeper thought I wanted to sell it, and thus followed a hilarious 20-minute conversation during which he thought that I was a seller of Indian products. Matters were only resolved when a senior student realised I was mispronouncing mai.
Some might argue that it is best to avoid initiating conversations in Chinese until you have a good command over it. But experiences like these make great memories and help you learn conversational Chinese, which cannot be taught in class.
Courses in Chinese language centres across Taiwan are designed to challenge. English is not allowed, and if a student does not understand something, teachers (laoshi) use more Chinese to explain it. This helps students to get acquainted with textbook and non-text book vocabulary, which can be applied while conversing with locals. For example, at a bubble tea shop (Bubble tea is a Taiwanese speciality and one of the first things I did after getting out of quarantine was to drink the extremely famous zhen zhu nai cha). Since my Chinese was inadequate, I mimed to the shopkeeper that I wanted more bubbles and less sugar in my tea. This is precisely what our laoshi does in class when we say, “Laoshi, budong (We didn’t understand!)”. In a rookie class like ours, it would be interesting to count how many times we say “Laoshi, budong.”
But despite all the challenges, I highly recommend Taiwan to anyone interested in learning Chinese. The people here are warm and very helpful. If they know that you are trying to learn the language, they will go the extra mile to help. Additionally, the course is extremely rigorous. I am learning 500 to 600 characters in the first level itself, which is equivalent to the third level in Chinese studies in India or China.
Living in Taiwan has also brought me in touch with fellow students from non-democratic states and opened my eyes to the problems associated with state intervention in daily life. Ranked as a leading democracy in Asia and the eighth best democracy in the world by the Economist Intelligence Unit, the state in Taiwan, unlike in China, values every individual’s democratic rights. As someone from India, a liberal democracy, I value my rights and freedoms and it is a relief that Taiwan allows everyone to practise them.
Suyash Desai is a research scholar specialising in Chinese security and foreign policies. He is currently studying the Chinese language at the National Sun Yat-sen University, Kaohsiung, Taiwan.