Learning Chinese as a 2nd Language from an adult 'Westerner's Perspective'
Graeme's Adventures in Learning Chinese - from the perspective of an English Speaking Australian learning a 2nd Language for the first time.
Graeme publishes Kaixin with his wife, Xiaosui
Hi, I’m Graeme and I'm Xiaosui’s husband (I'm the one on the right, not in the middle)
Obviously, I wanted to learn Chinese if I were to become part of a Chinese family and visit China regularly.
So, I started.
It soon became apparent that I would have to know PinYin. So, guided by Xiaosui, I learned PinYin. This is where the English alphabet is used to make the Chinese words so they can be pronounced.
A child in China does not have to know PinYin and learns like any child, by being immersed in the language. It is also well known that a child’s brain is ‘wired’ to learn language. That facility diminishes with age for most people. It certainly did for me.
Learning PinYin is not particularly difficult and becomes natural after a while. It is simply a matter of learning what sounds the English letters represent.
Xiaosui encouraged me to speak Chinese from the very beginning. I was not a good student. For most adults, speaking a new language is daunting, it challenges our sense of worth. It takes us back to being a child where we can only use the most basic words to try to communicate. Though, as adults learning a new language, we can at least do better than a baby. We can start with simple sentences such as, ‘this is a …’; ‘that is a …’; ‘Hello, my name is ….’
In your own language you have a whole range of words to communicate your thoughts. In your new language, at first, you have only one or two words .... and that can be very frustrating, not to mention amusing at times.
I thought it would be much easier if I were in China.
That is where I found ChinesePod to be excellent. It was like being in China, but being able to hit the pause button if I became lost.
So learn Pinyin and immerse yourself in China.
I meandered through ChinesePod for quite some time. As an adult, life often intervenes as well. I am now up to the Upper Intermediate level ..... just. The first thing I realised was that this is the level where you really learn functional Chinese. The previous levels had just been foundation building.
Yes, you could communicate on a basic, simple level but it was not particularly functional.
The lesson I have learned from reaching this level, is that I should have done it much sooner.
So if you are just starting in ChinesePod, I suggest you work very hard to get through the first three levels. Don't hang around too long in any of them because it has become comfortable. Push yourself into the next level as soon as you can ...... not too soon, but not too long. For each person this will be different.
You need to build a strong foundation, which the first three levels will do.
But I have now learned that you don't really start learning until the Upper Intermediate level.
Good Luck.
Learning to Read and Write in Chinese
PinYin does have its limitations. For example the words ‘shi’ and ‘zai’ have many different meaning in Chinese. However each meaning has its own Character in Chinese. So, I decided to learn how to read and write Chinese script. That is more challenging, but it is mostly a matter of study and practice.
The first thing I noticed was that it was similar to English in some ways - it has an 'alphabet' and 'syllables'.
Writing in any language is just a series of squiggles and strokes. It has meaning if you have learned what those squiggles and stokes represent, otherwise it is just a series of, in effect, squiggles and stokes. .
If you have not learned to read and write in English then all these words have no meaning, they are random bits of ink on paper, random lines and squiggles on your computer screen.
中文也是
If you have learned to read Chinese, then the above pictures have meaning to you. If you have not then they remain pictures.
China and 中国 mean the same, my brain now processes them in the same way. It takes the pictures and gives them meaning.
So, it becomes simply a matter of learning to give the pictures meaning. That is simply time, application and diligence.
The best way to learn any language is to read. That is what we were encouraged to do as children, read, read and read. Those who read the most became the best at English.
I decided to use the same approach to learning Chinese.
It is quite a buzz to go through an online lesson using only the Chinese characters.
Where and how to practise your newfound Chinese
Practise your Chinese for FREE - Chatting to China on QQ
Xiaosui helps me a lot, and I am lucky, but using basic Chinese is a bit of a bore for her. I found the best way to find people with time and patience was to join QQ (The Chinese Skype) and Chat to whoever contacted me. A lesson is structured, and very useful, whereas chatting to someone is not, so you are forced to dredge up words and phrases at random.
However, QQ can also be random, so if you really want to practise your Chinese, I suggest you either find a Chinese friends (although most just want to learn English) OR cough up and pay for a TUTOR at ChinesePod.
Believe me, you cannot learn to speak another language unless you use it.
CONTENTS
If you want to learn to speak Chinese you must first learn Pinyin 拼音
Introduction to Pin Yin - the 4 'tones'
The full meaning of Chinese words
Pronunciation of Chinese words is in two parts
Remember that a language is like music
Learning Chinese as a 2nd Language from an adult 'Westerner's Perspective'
CCTV (China Television) - Learn to Speak Chinese
Learn Chinese in China with AllSet Learning Shanghai
Practise your Chinese for FREE - Chatting to China on QQ
(Full Size Images)
Graeme has been using ChinesePod since 2007
"I highly recommend ChinesePod, I haven't found any Online teaching programmes that come close."
Set in Zanzibar in 1910, it is the story of two people from different worlds falling in love. Susan immerses herself in Zanzibar. Asim falls in love with this woman from the nation that killed his wife. Susan is a spy. Asim is the chief advisor to the Sultan of Zanzibar. Germany and France are holding secret negotiations to form a Pan European alliance, which would isolate Britain and destroy her power. Susan and Asim are caught up in all this and their love is finally dashed on the cold, hard reality of international high politics.
Available on Amazon's Kindle $4.99 - Over 400 Pages
Chapter One
Zanzibar
'A maharaja’s ruby cast on a Persian carpet by the blackest of hands'
Their souls danced, honouring his promise.
The ancient dhow stirred in the soft morning breeze, moving through the water like a sated lion, snuffling about the other boats on the harbour; some scurrying, some at anchor, some darting before a brief gust of wind. The lateen sails a bustling panorama of blood-red and sun-bleached white.
Aft, the woman's eyes searched the skyline, drinking in the architecture of Stone Town, the heart of Zanzibar; its jagged, cluttered silhouette so familiar, so much a part of her soul.
Abruptly, her eyes ceased their restless searching, jagged by an invisible hook, transfixed by the grand buildings on the northern shore, Beit-al-Ajaib, the House of Wonders, Palace to the great Sultan of Zanzibar. The distinctive architecture captured in the tropical light: coconut white outlined by contrasting shadow plays of pepper black.
A smile, ever so slight, started to play on the edge of her mouth then disappeared. A memory that should have been fond instantly turned to sharp unbearable pain. Her eyes hardened and moved on.
Without warning the captain threw the rudder over. Stumbling, the woman barked her shin on a wooden box, a rough-hewn coffin. She recoiled, knocking over an untidy stack of cane baskets. Imprisoned in the baskets, rusty cockerels, their scruffy heads straining through the latticework, snapped at her, cried out to her; their raucous din overwhelming her, drowning her.
Dimly, through the fog of noise, the strident swearing of the sailors in Kiswahili seeped into her conscious. Understanding, she smiled mirthlessly.
The coffin had been carelessly stowed, a chore, rather than a labour of respect or love.
London 1910
“Hello, who are you? I am Oliver, is Edward at home?”
The words were spoken by a tall, impeccably dressed young man as he rushed into Edward’s flat shaking off surplus water and calling for whisky while shoving his umbrella into a stand. It was a blustery, grey, bitterly cold February afternoon in the heart of London. He brushed a curl of soft auburn hair from his forehead and smiled charmingly.
Susan laughed, her hazel eyes dancing with the exhilaration of the new. “Yes, he is having a bath. I think he is trying to get warm. I’m Susan, Susan Carey, his sister.”
“Ahhh yes, from Australia. How do you do?” said Sir Oliver, smiling broadly and offering his hand. He noticed the laughter in her eyes, and the depth, particularly the depth, intensified by jade flecks that made them striking and alluring. “So, you have arrived, good trip I trust.”
“I am very well thank you, and yes, it was a good trip,” replied Susan.
He laughed and glanced at the sitting room, “whisky?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, please come in…….. that was silly of me, after all, it is your flat.”
Oliver smiled and gestured for Susan to lead the way. He followed her into the room, and after helping himself to a generous portion of whisky, walked over to the fire.
Shortly after, Edward, wrapped in a huge ruby-coloured dressing gown and wiping soap from his ear strode into the room. He was of similar age to Oliver, late twenties, well built, if slightly podgy, with dark auburn hair and a full moustache. Susan looked up and smiled to herself, she could see now where he had picked up some of his new mannerisms.
“Thought I could hear voices. I see you two have met, no need for introductions then.”
As he was speaking, Edward walked to the side table and grabbed a whisky decanter by the neck. He glanced at Oliver who nodded. A long finger snaked into one of the tumblers followed by the distinctive clink of crystal. He swept the decanter off the table and carried it to where Oliver was sitting. After pouring the whisky, he sank into a lounge chair and sipped from his glass, enjoying the warm glow as it spread through his body.
Suddenly he sat up exclaiming, “Sorry sis, would you like something to drink?”
“Kind of you to remember, but no thank you, and yes, Oliver has already inquired.”
Edward nodded and sank back into his lounge chair.
They chatted, tentatively at first, getting to know one another. Edward had not seen Susan for two years and was unsure how his sister would take his new relationship. Oliver was intrigued by Susan. An attractive, self-assured young lady of high intelligence with a degree was a rare find. And, as fate would have it, she was also a trained and experienced teacher. He suggested a picnic at Oxford, which was met with ready acquiescence. Arrangements were made for the following Sunday.
“I’ll see if the Rolls is available,” mused Oliver. “Must ring father, haven’t spoken to him in ages.”
Oliver, Sir Oliver Marchmaine, was an unaffected young man of intense intelligence who saw life as a great adventure to be lived to the full. He was also unyieldingly loyal to his country, England, which is why he had joined Military Intelligence on leaving Oxford.
It was 1910 and Europe was stirring. It was a time full of interest, intrigue and danger. The European chessboard was becoming increasingly complex, the moves more subtle. A time when an unexpected move or feint could have profound consequences.
Regaining her balance, the woman’s eyes were drawn, hesitantly at first, resisting back to Beit-al-Ajaib. She wondered if it was still the same. Still the same centre of power and intrigue that had been so much a part of her life all those years before; that had defined her life.
She remembered those first few moments, remembered standing in the foyer of the palace, .………… remembered the breathtakingly beautiful Persian tapestry ........
The sea breeze stirred her clothes. She smiled a little sadly, and in her mind the tapestry gently swayed. Two small apparitions ran giggling up the stairs: two small exquisitely rich burkas disappearing along the first floor landing. Childish squeals of mischief and joy left in the air.......
“Move to seaward, you accused of Allah! Move!”
Her thoughts were clawed back to the dhow, the captain crashing the tiller over to avoid another boat on the crowded harbour. The woman instinctively ducked her head to avoid the heavy boom as it swung over her, the rusty cockerels squawked their raucous indignation, their heads straining through the latticework, relentless.
The collision avoided, the dhow continued on its way. The cacophony dying down to the occasional command by the captain or the cry of a seagull.
The woman's thoughts returned to Beit-al-Ajaib
…………. laughing and giggling, girls of seven or eight. A door on the first floor slammed and all sounds of them disappeared. Silence. The woman smiled. She could see herself, a young woman, dressed plainly, unselfconsciously, her sexuality tantalisingly just out of reach, hidden beneath the thin veil of her clothing. She remembered standing alone in the foyer, looking around, perplexed. Asim came through a door to the left of the tapestry.
“Salaam.”
The woman started and looked around. Then, realising, was cold again. Alone again. Alone, rocking to and fro to the rythm of the sea. Alone, beside a rough-hewn coffin.
Now Available on Amazon's Kindle $4.99 - Over 400 Pages
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