I regret not learning Chinese in the months before I left Australia. From past travel experiences I had found that one could get by without necessarily learning the local language. But here in China, because the writing is not in Roman characters, and because so very few people speak or understand English, the language barrier is firmly set.
I am collecting some photos of shop-fronts, which I will post soon. The Chinese love signs, and the Chinese characters can be very descriptive. But for me they hold no clue as to what sort of shop it is, and if you cannot see through the window, you remain clueless. Rarely are pictures or logos used. One night I was coming home late from work and from the bus I was able to see the lighted interior of many shops - and was delighted to realise that there was an optometrist, there a baker, a dentist, a photocopy centre, an estate agent ... etc.
Here is a photo of one shop I could easily understand. They sell pears ....
But some succeed, and very well. A taxi driver, when he realised I had no Chinese, uttered not another word for the rest of the journey, but mimed and pointed. He was able to successfully convey this somewhat complex message:
"Look over there, at that fat pig of a traffic policeman, chatting on his mobile phone, instead of doing his job and directing traffic, and helping me get through this terrible traffic jam! He should be sacked!" (Photo: Google Images)
The irony about not learning Chinese before I left is that where I used to live in Australia - directly opposite my house - was a regular Saturday morning Chinese language school.
I am collecting some photos of shop-fronts, which I will post soon. The Chinese love signs, and the Chinese characters can be very descriptive. But for me they hold no clue as to what sort of shop it is, and if you cannot see through the window, you remain clueless. Rarely are pictures or logos used. One night I was coming home late from work and from the bus I was able to see the lighted interior of many shops - and was delighted to realise that there was an optometrist, there a baker, a dentist, a photocopy centre, an estate agent ... etc. Here is a photo of one shop I could easily understand. They sell pears ....
What is annoying is that, although it is quickly obvious I am a foreigner with no Chinese, locals still expect me to understand them, as their voices get louder and shriller each time they repeat. Or (in the case of a group of women), start giggling inanely, and others crowd around to join the fun. I am a rarity, of course, and most locals seem never to have had the experience of trying to assist a foreigner. But neither do they seem to want to.
But some succeed, and very well. A taxi driver, when he realised I had no Chinese, uttered not another word for the rest of the journey, but mimed and pointed. He was able to successfully convey this somewhat complex message:"Look over there, at that fat pig of a traffic policeman, chatting on his mobile phone, instead of doing his job and directing traffic, and helping me get through this terrible traffic jam! He should be sacked!" (Photo: Google Images)
The irony about not learning Chinese before I left is that where I used to live in Australia - directly opposite my house - was a regular Saturday morning Chinese language school.
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