For the past six weeks, I have been diligently immersing myself in Chinese. Four hours of classes each morning, followed by the language practice that came from navigating a Chinese-speaking country allowed plenty of time to work on my skills. After finishing my program, one of the hardest things to adjust to has been the termination of this constant practice, of thinking and speaking and writing everyday in Chinese. Language study is such that you have to keep practicing in order to retain the skills you develop, and I don't want to lose what improvements I’ve made this summer.
So, to keep my developing ability well-oiled, I’ve put together a game plan to keep up with studying after I return. These tips can apply to any language, but my commentary will include some Chinese-specific advantages.
The Four-Fold Plan:
Buy a Dictionary. Memorize it.
One of the biggest obstacles I am working through in learning Chinese is building up my vocabulary. Once you establish a good foundation of the mechanics of a language, progress begins to move outward instead of upward: you need to learn more words to describe more complex feelings or situations. For Chinese, a dictionary is beneficial for a few reasons — firstly, and obviously, the dictionary helps you learn new words. In addition, many dictionaries have stroke-by-stroke character diagrams, as well as example phrases. Learning words piece by piece, by practicing characters out of a dictionary, also improves your writing and reading, and even helps you learn new characters faster. Because many parts of characters (radicals) repeat often, the more characters you know, the easier learning new characters becomes. They say it’s a breeze after the first 1,000! :-)
Mine arrived from Amazon today!
Find a Language Partner.
To keep up fluency, find a partner who is willing to speak your target language with you, even if it is just a couple times a month. Meet up for coffee, go for a hike, work on homework together — make it fun! Normal, daily interactions will keep your brain thinking about your language and help your dialogue stay snappy. You can also message or text in your target language, which can give you more consistent practice, and requires less scheduling. I have been using WeChat to talk to friends I made in China, and even though we only send a few messages a week, it is still good practice to switch my brain into Chinese.
Watch movies in target language, with subtitles.
It can be easy to get caught in the textbook rut, where your dialogue and sentence structures feel formulaic. If you don't have anyone to practice with or to listen to, a great way to get more exposure to a language is to watch movies or TV shows in that language. For me, it helps comprehension to have the Chinese subtitles on when I watch movies or shows, and it lets you practice reading as well as listening. Unfortunately, my favorite Chinese movie, Journey to the West, was just removed from Netflix, but there are plenty more Mandarin options left to watch!
Translate songs from your target language
This was something I did to practice while I was in China, and it is something I will continue to do once I return home. For each song, I write out the lyrics in both characters and Pinyin, and then work through the song, translating line by line. This is a great way to see how a language is used in a more lyrical way than would be in daily conversation, and it also lets you learn some song lyrics so you can impress your friends at KTV, should the opportunity arise.
A page from my practice notebook, on which I (roughly) translated a particularly sad song.
One of the most important things I learned from my program was how much I still need to learn and how much harder I need to work to achieve proficiency. Even though I won’t get the same exposure to Chinese back in Utah, hopefully I can stay motivated to keep up practice on my own!
While studying language abroad, one of the most important things you can do is practice talking to locals. For me, this is also one of the most terrifying things you can do. (See post on Language and Identity for a more in-depth explanation.) But, as I have gotten more comfortable here in China, and as I have started to see improvements in my language in the classroom, I’ve been practicing starting up conversations with taxi drivers, shop keepers, and others friendly locals who are willing to chat!
One fail-safe way to start a conversation is to ask about food. Food is universally revered — locals love to share the culture behind their city’s traditional dishes, and travelers love to find out what snacks to enjoy during their stay. “What’s your favorite Tianjin snack?” has quickly become my favorite way to open a dialogue.
This question, and the conversation that follows, provide two critical benefits: authentic language practice and great sack recommendations. Tianjin’s food culture is unique and delicious, and we have been trying to eat our way down a long list of traditional nibbles. Here are a few of Tianjin’s specialty snacks, as well as a few of our favorite treats we have found on our travels.
麻花（máhuā)
The máhuā is one of Tianjin’s most recognizable snack. They are basically long, twisty, oily cookies that come in many flavors and many sizes, and they can be found practically everywhere. My personal favorites are the small, fresh twists tossed with honey.
A bag of my favorite máhuā variety.
You can buy them in bulk, which has been dangerous for my snacking habits. I justify it by reminding myself that I only have a limited time here and I must take full advantage of local culture while I can. Máhuā have the lucky combination of being perfectly crispy and sweet which allows them to be downright addicting.
A larger version of the twist. Many are this size or even larger!
2. 煎饼果子 (jiānbǐngguǒzi）
This snack is misleading. The name, jiānbǐngguǒzi, literally translates to “fruit pancake,” but there is no fruit to be found in this popular breakfast item. There is a large pancake, though, and eggs and fried dough. Usually, these are made to order in roadside stands, and you can add different sauces or spices or fillings to customize your snack.
A fresh jiānbǐngguǒzi being eaten before class.
3. 狗不理包子 (gǒubùlǐ bāozi)
Bāozi, or stuffed steamed buns, are a staple food throughout northern China. Tianjin, however, is famous for a specific brand of bun, called a “gǒubùlǐ.” These buns are famous all over China, and the brand can be bought in stores, but the original gǒubùlǐ was created in Tianjin. The main difference I found between these bāozi and normal bāozi was that the famous brand was just more expensive. A decent bāozi, for sure, and part of the Tianjin experience, but nothing mind-blowing.
Gǒubùlǐ with pork filling.
4. 大饼鸡蛋 (dàbǐng jīdàn)
Unlike the jiānbǐngguǒzi, this dish’s name tells you everything you need to know: the “big pancake egg” is a big pancake filled with an egg. This was one of the first foods we tried in Tianjin, and it remained our favorite breakfasts throughout the trip. You could pick them up on campus, at little pop-up stands that people would tow in behind their bicycles. On top of the pancake and egg, you could add different vegetables, meats, and sauces. My favorite add-in was a fried lotus root.
A dàbǐng jīdàn with lotus root on the Nankai campus.
5. 天津崩豆 (Tiānjiīn bēngdòu)
When we ate these, I thought they were candy covered peanuts. Actually, I thought they were really nasty candy covered peanuts because they did not taste at all like candy covered peanuts. As it turns out, that was because they are roasted fava beans, which are a different food entirely. They are a little too salty and crunchy enough to break your teeth, so I’m not sure I will crave them when I leave, but again -- it’s part of the Tianjin experience.
Honorable mention #6: 芒果冰 （mángguǒbìng）
While this isn’t a Tianjin specialty, it deserves a mention because it is so unbelievably delicious. I'm not sure what shaved ice technology is hidden in China, but whatever it is must be centuries ahead of what we have access to in the US. A mángguǒbìng, or “mango ice” is like a snow cone that has been flavor-blasted into oblivion. The base is finely shaved ice, almost the consistency of Utah powder. On top is fresh mangoes, mango syrup and condensed milk. All of these things melt together into a tangy and sweet and beautiful mess, creating one of the most delightful and refreshing desserts. The best part of this treat is that it essentially just fruit and water, which makes it healthy…I think.
Shots from Suzhou, a city to the west of Shanghai. There is a saying in China that goes, “上有天常，下有苏杭” (shàng yǒu tiāncháng, xià yǒu sū háng), which means “above there is heaven, below there is Suzhou and Hangzhou.” Suzhou, and the neighboring city Hangzhou, are so famous for their beauty that they are regarded as heaven on earth.
Language-learning is an important part of experiencing a new country, but traveling gives you an opportunity to learn so much more than just a new way to speak. Especially in a place as culturally and historically rich as China, understanding culture is nearly as important as understanding the language.
At Nankai University, we have a weekly culture class to give us a taste of the abundant culture in Chinese society. In total, we participated in three different cultural activities: paper-cutting, calligraphy, and painting. Paper-cutting was tedious, and my inability to make straight and crisp folds in the paper made it overall frustrating. Calligraphy was a little more enjoyable, and I loved making bold strokes on the paper, but due to my lack of proper training, my characters mostly came out looking like deformed blobs. I was surprised, however, by how much I enjoyed Chinese painting.
Chinese painting is steeped in tradition, and we barely scratched the surface of the deep well of techniques and principles that makeup this ancient medium. We used one common technique, “水墨” (shuǐmò), or “water ink,” to create simple drawings of plants and flowers, two popular themes in Chinese painting.
I loved mixing the ink and dragging my brush along the paper to make these soft lines and whimsical scenes. It was surprisingly meditative. And the classroom had a very powerful air conditioner that gave us a welcome break from the crushing heat outside.
Here are a few of my favorite paintings from class:
My favorite thing to paint was flowers, and especially the erratic stems connecting them to the leaves.
These characters are what’s called a “chéngyǔ,” which is basically a Chinese idiom. Chéngyǔ are four-character sayings are often pulled from history or folklore, and they are like our idioms in that their literal translation rarely lines up with their meaning. This chéngyǔ, “人生如梦”（rénshēngrúmèng), is similar to our saying, “life is but a dream.”
It can be easy to get caught up the explicit school work that our program requires, and it has been a challenge trying to find a balance between spending enough time studying while also trying to experience living in Tianjin. This program is nice because it builds in a little break from study time while still allowing us to learn about the culture.
Sometimes you study abroad, and sometimes you study abroad and end up being featured on Chinese television!
While we were studying at Nankai, a documentary film crew began interviewing us and filming us going about our daily routine. After some initial confusion as to why we were being followed around by a camera crew, we learned that they were making a documentary about Chinese language education and American students studying in China. They captured us going through our typical days, eating, studying, and attending class, and took us on outings in the city. During our last week in Tianjin, the documentary they created premiered on TV and we had a little watch party in a cramped dorm room. While it was a little disconcerting to see ourselves on TV in another country, the project actually ended up being a really good way to document our experience. If you’ve got half an hour and curiosity about life at Nankai, give it a watch!
Language, Identity, and Embracing Mistakes: Adjusting to Language Immersion
Written 06/09/2017
I have always considered myself an outgoing person. I love talking to people, starting conversations and laughing with strangers, and I’ve always felt confident in my ability to do so in English, my native language. Being thrown in to immersive language classes, however, and interacting in a society where English is rarely an option has stripped me of these abilities, and it has been a disarming experience.
Learning a language in a country without safety nets has lead to a slew of challenges that I never faced growing up speaking English in America. Simple tasks, like finding breakfast or catching a bus, become something I plan out in my head, practicing things to say and ways to ask for help if I should need it. Being immersed in a language has made me reevaluate parts of my identity that I previously assumed were innate.
In China, I have realized that language, and the way individuals use it, is central to the identity we cast for ourselves. If I don’t feel confident using my voice and talking to people, two things I considered defining personality traits, then what other aspects of my character show through? How can I use what language skills I do have to show those parts of my personality? This has been one of the most challenging adjustments to make while abroad.
These worries, I think, are normal — being stripped of language makes you feel vulnerable and being immersed in classes and culture is a daunting challenge. However, the growth and improvement I have seen in my language ability in just three weeks makes me think that all this uncertainty might be worth something. Truly, I think the best way to learn is to make yourself feel uncomfortable, to throw yourself in just a little too deep and a little too fast. Eventually, you’ll find your stride and begin to work around the barriers you encounter.
While language learning has trapped some aspects of my personality in limbo, it has also allowed me to develop other traits. One characteristic that I have had to practice is a willingness to laugh off mistakes and avoid taking myself to seriously. When overcoming a language barrier, there are bound to be many funny or awkward experiences. Last week, for example, a few friends and I wanted to go to a museum. I went to the ticket window to purchase the tickets and asked if they had a discount for university students. The ticket officer responded with what I now realize was something like, “No student discount, the tickets are free,” but I only picked up the part where I was told “No.” Then I asked, “So how much are three tickets?” The exasperated ticket officer repeated again — “They are free!”
On the whole, this was a funny and harmless mix-up. I laughed about it later with my friends, and it makes a silly little story to tell when people ask about my experience in China. In the moment though, this little error was humiliating. It can be easy to let small mistakes like this make you more reluctant to speak in the future, but the trick, I think, is to understand that these errors are essential to learning. Once they are made you’re able to progress even more. Plus, you’ll have more funny stories to share when you return!
My teacher, 高老师, and I at the end of our program. She moved through class at break-neck speed, put up with zero nonsense, and held us all to lofty standards. She is also one of the reasons I saw such vast improvements in 6 weeks, and one of the people I will miss most from China. Sometimes, it is beneficial to be held to an expectation just above your capabilities.
Obtaining a bike is only the first step — to be like a local, you have to ride like a local. In China, that is no easy task. These streets are chaotic, busy, loud, and swarming with vehicles and people. At first glance, there seem to be no rules on the roads; people zoom in every direction, at any time, giving the impression that traffic flow is a hectic free-for-all. In fact, there are some general guidelines that seem to be held in unspoken confidence by motorists, cyclists, and pedestrians. Here are some tips for surviving a ride around the city:
Be aware of your surroundings! Because so few people (on bikes, scooters, or in cars) follow the official rules of the road, safety becomes an individual task. Make sure there is not a car driving on the opposite side of the road before you turn left, and make sure there are no mopeds behind your shoulder (see #4) before merging into the bike lane.
Make deliberate movements! Because of the chaotic nature of the streets, any added hesitation can result in a more dangerous situation. Slow movements are critical. If you pick a course to cross a busy street or merge into a bike lane, stick with the same pace the whole way. Sudden movements or changes of direction start to make things messy.
Don’t trust traffic lights. They seem to be more of a “suggestion” than a requirement. Always look both ways, and remember that the faster vehicle has the right of way.
Watch out for mopeds! Half way between a bike and a car lies the marvelous hybrid that is a moped. They are too fast to be bikes, and too small to be cars, which puts them in a unique position to weave through traffic at lightning speed. Mopeds have a tendency to materialize out of thin air, so they are one vehicle to always be on the lookout for.
When crossing streets, find a “buffer.” If you are going to cross a busy street, traveling in a pack increases your chances of a safe arrival on the other side. Find a buddy, stick close by their side, and get ready to weave.
Honking means many things. There are angry “get of my way or else” honks, yes, but there are also friendly “hello!” honks, warning honks, and little reminder honks to let you know when a car is about to whiz by and nearly knock you off your bike. Learn to hear the difference, and you too can ride like a local!
Here is a quick video of a street-crossing that shows the bustle of the city:
One of the first things you notice in Tianjin, after the inescapable smell of cigarettes, is the abundance of bicycles. At Nankai University, and throughout the city, the transportation of choice is bikes. Old ones, new ones, motorized ones, rented ones — everyone zooms around campus on these self-powered machines. Outside of every classroom building and cafeteria are lines and lines of bikes, locked by the back wheel, waiting for their students to return.
Scenes from the campus
Many Chinese students use bike-share apps to rent a temporary bike for any journey. Much like the Salt Lake City bike share program, these apps let you rent a bike for a short period of time to ride to your destination. But, unlike Salt Lake, there are no designated park stations for these bikes — you can leave your bike anywhere, or a take a bike from anywhere. All you have to do is scan the bike’s QR code and use the combination the app sends you to unlock the wheels.
Unfortunately, setting up a super-simple bike share account requires a Chinese credit card, so our group has been unable to participate in what I hope will soon be an international trend. Instead, we bought bikes in a more exciting and distinctly Chinese way: by bargaining on the street.
Walking home one day, we struck up a conversation with a man under a bridge. We asked him where he got his bike, and for how much. Instead of answering the question, he offered to sell the bike, on the spot, for 60 yuan (about 10USD). Of course, we agreed, and bought our first bike of the day. As that transaction was being carried out, another man walked up, asking if we needed to buy more bikes. He, in fact, was a bike salesman, and would be willing to sell us two more bikes if we would just follow him to his shop!
In a move that would make my parents crawl with disappointment, we followed this stranger down a side street, straying further and further from the main road. Eventually, we veered into a back alley, weaving our way through an apartment complex. At this point, we started getting a little nervous. We were far from our starting point and with a strange man who had only claimed he was a bike salesman. Just as we were about to attempt an escape from what we were sure was going to be a kidnapping, our salesman gestured at a row of bikes lined up in the alley. We had found the bike shop!
In most instances, I would not recommend following strangers into alleyways. Especially while traveling in unfamiliar areas, it’s usually a good idea to stick to main roads and avoid blindly trusting people who claim to sell bikes. Sometimes, though, asking questions and following a local can help you find what you need to navigate a new area. As long as you use good judgement, don’t be afraid to strike up a conversation or ask for help!
After some stiff price negotiations in the back alley, we rode away with two new bikes and a new sense of belonging in the city.
On July 1st, I left Tianjin, my home for the past 6 weeks. Now that I have access to consistent internet, I’ll start uploading the posts I’ve been writing for the past month. Stay tuned!
Social Media Submission: Slowing Down, Taking It In.
Hello, and welcome to my blog! Here, I plan to document my experiences traveling and studying Chinese in Tianjin over the summer.
Since I will be gone for much of the Utah summer this year, I’d like to reflect on some of my favorite memories of summer in the Beehive State.
I have been living in Salt Lake for about seven months now, but I grew up just over Parley’s Canyon in Park City. Located only 30 minutes from Salt Lake, Park City is a fantastic place to escape the inversion, and find some amazing biking and hiking trails.
Living in the mountains for so long, it’s sometimes easy to forget that the access we have to trails and trees and fresh air is remarkable. Often times, when I am out enjoying a favorite trail, I need to remind myself to stop and just absorb the moment with all my senses. I love to listen to the wind dancing in the aspen leaves, smell sweet sagebrush in the warm air, or watch cotton-ball clouds float lazily across the sky.
One of my favorite places to do that is on Park City’s Mid-Mountain Trail. The Mid-Mountain trail rolls for nearly 28 miles, snaking around Park City’s three ski resorts, from Deer Valley to the Canyons. There are multiple access points for this trail, but my go-to is always Armstrong. This uphill-only bike trail is a challenging climb, but it winds through beautiful sections of aspen and pine forest up to the Mid-Mountain Trail.
Scenes from the climb.
At the top of the climb, once you make it to grade level on Mid-Mountain, lies arguably one of the best views in Park City. The hills fold back into a deep canyon, ski runs line the tree-covered slopes, and on the horizon you can spot Jupiter Peak, the highest point of the ski resort. Every time I bike past here, I stop, take a breath (and maybe a picture), and take the view in. No matter the time of year, the vista never fails to disappoint:
Any season, any time, it takes my breath away.
Allowing yourself to slow down and take in the area that surrounds you lets you remember that being in the mountains is pretty darn amazing. The immense natural beauty, and the easy access to it, makes Utah a truly unique place. This summer, I will miss seeing my favorite view, but I know that new views, and new types of beauty, await me on the other side of the world. At least I can always come home to my mountains, and to the sights and smells and sounds I love. Here’s to slowing down and enjoying the moment wherever I am.
On a final note, taking a moment to frolic in a field of spring flowers never hurt anyone. A flower in the helmet is a fitting tribute to nature, as well as a fashion statement fit for a trendy New York street. I would recommend the experience.
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