I woke up this morning with a slight sense of identity crisis. I have been living in the UK for so long, how much of my Frenchness have I lost?
Here's my list of changes.
I write names as 'Name Surname' rather than 'SURNAME Name'.
I write numbers with a coma to separate thousands and millions and a point to mark decimals, 1,256.35 rather than 1.256,35.
I put the currency sign before the number rather than after: £50 rather than 50 £.
With the rare cheques I write nowadays I put the beneficiary's name first, then the amount, rather than the other way round.
I drive on the left-hand side of the road, sit on the right-hand seat and handle the gear stick with my left hand.
I say "hello" much more often than I say "salut", even to French people.
When I come up to a roundabout in my car and I see a car coming up from another road, I slow down to let them go rather than speed up to get through before they do.
When I see a pedestrian waiting to cross the road, I slow down and gesture courteously to them to cross the road safely while I wait, rather than speed up to discourage them from daring to walk up to the road in front of my car.
When I parallel park my car, I am very careful not to touch the cars in front of or behind me, rather than push them to squeeze my car into a space that was originally just slightly too small for my car.
When I feel down after bad news or a long day at work, I make myself a cup of tea (Yorkshire tea, with milk), truly believing that this will make things better.
When I walk around French department stores or friends' and family's houses in France in the winter, I strip down to a Tee-Shirt or vest top, wondering how anyone can live in such an overheated environment.
I love a good roast and 3 veg on a Sunday.
When I've been away from home for too long, one of the first things I fancy in order to feel at home again is a good Indian curry.
I talk about the weather, a lot.
I cringe when I see too much nudity on TV or poster ads.
I speak in French with a high variation in pitches. And when I was told this for the first time, what I wanted to say was "reeeeeeaaaaallyyy?"(very high tone on first syllable, low tone on last).
I don't think Marmite is weird and disgusting, in fact I like and buy the stuff.
95% of the bread I eat is sliced bread, and 95% of the cheese I eat is cheddar.
I no longer think that it's weird that the Queen and the Royals are so prominent in this modern country when in my mind, royals used to be the people who had been decapitated 2 centuries ago.
In fact, I have a lot of respect for the Queen and think that British politics would be worse off without her.
I watch Harry and Paul and think it's hilarious.
I no longer think that weighing more than 50kg for my 1.63m height is being fat.
I pay an arm and a leg to use public transport and don't moan and rant about it.
I don't mind when people serve cheese and dessert at the same time and I don't even cringe anymore when people cut the nose off the cheese rather than cut it in the length to allow everyone to have a bit of the best bit in the middle.
I drink hot chocolate in the evening before bed rather than in the morning for breakfast.
I eat pretty much only one brand of yoghurt because there isn't a whole huge aisle at the supermarket dedicated to yoghurts which makes my eyes sparkle with curiosity and excitement to try the new appetising products.
I eat parsnips but not artichokes, and radishes are round, not oblong.
For me most of the lettuce comes in a packet of leaves rather than whole.
Crisps have sneaked their way into a very high proportion of my meals.
I know what Rosemary and Thyme, Allo Allo and Dad's Army are.
I know the lyrics to Twinkle Twinkle and I'm a Little Teapot.
I know who Danni Minogue, Cheryl Cole and Myleen Klass are, but don't talk to me about Koh Lanta.
Well. I had better stuff myself with escargots and foie gras and pâtisseries and start arguments while queuing at the supermarket next time I'm in France, for I can no longer afford to lose anymore Frenchness lest I truly and completely become a Rosbif!
Tuesday 13 November 2012
Sunday 26 August 2012
Don't judge a book by its cover
I have mentioned before that I am a westerner in a Chinese-looking body and that my boyfriend is a Chinese man in a blonde-haired blue-eyed outfit.
This usually puts us in comical situations. A couple of anecdotes below.
As we were wandering around the courtyards of the Louvre during our holidays in Paris this summer, a Chinese lady walked up to me and talked to me in Chinese. My Chinese is shamefully poor, and I looked up to my boyfriend, who said: "she is asking you where the entrance to the museum is". I weighed up my options, and thought that the extent of my vocabulary would not allow me to give a clear enough answer in Chinese. So I turned back to my boyfriend and said to him in English: "tell her she needs to walk round to the other side of the big pyramid to the entrance and go downstairs", which he duly translated to her in his fluent Chinese.
In the meantime, the Chinese lady was still staring at me, expecting Chinese words to come out of my mouth and probably not understanding why the Chinese words she heard were in such a deep voice!
That's what happens when you have a "banana" and an "egg".
Today my boyfriend was showing his flat round to a prospective flatmate, a lovely Russian Maria. I said hello and had a little chat with her, then left them to it. He took care to be engaging with her, and telling her enough about himself and his life and finding out about herself and her lifestyle, to see whether they would get on as flatmates. When she reveals that her boyfriend is French, he says: "my girlfriend is French too", at which point she wears a very uncomfortable and unsure look on her face.
Sensing what was happening, I offered: "that will be me!"
She walked up to me and blurted out with a hugely relieved expression: "oh YOU're French?"
She must have been thinking that he was talking about someone else while I was in the room, hence the discomfort.
Hey that's what happens when your looks don't match your inner nature.
And it's often hilarious.
This usually puts us in comical situations. A couple of anecdotes below.
As we were wandering around the courtyards of the Louvre during our holidays in Paris this summer, a Chinese lady walked up to me and talked to me in Chinese. My Chinese is shamefully poor, and I looked up to my boyfriend, who said: "she is asking you where the entrance to the museum is". I weighed up my options, and thought that the extent of my vocabulary would not allow me to give a clear enough answer in Chinese. So I turned back to my boyfriend and said to him in English: "tell her she needs to walk round to the other side of the big pyramid to the entrance and go downstairs", which he duly translated to her in his fluent Chinese.
In the meantime, the Chinese lady was still staring at me, expecting Chinese words to come out of my mouth and probably not understanding why the Chinese words she heard were in such a deep voice!
That's what happens when you have a "banana" and an "egg".
Today my boyfriend was showing his flat round to a prospective flatmate, a lovely Russian Maria. I said hello and had a little chat with her, then left them to it. He took care to be engaging with her, and telling her enough about himself and his life and finding out about herself and her lifestyle, to see whether they would get on as flatmates. When she reveals that her boyfriend is French, he says: "my girlfriend is French too", at which point she wears a very uncomfortable and unsure look on her face.
Sensing what was happening, I offered: "that will be me!"
She walked up to me and blurted out with a hugely relieved expression: "oh YOU're French?"
She must have been thinking that he was talking about someone else while I was in the room, hence the discomfort.
Hey that's what happens when your looks don't match your inner nature.
And it's often hilarious.
Wednesday 8 August 2012
Love languages and MBTI personality types
You may have come across the MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) personality types, used widely by corporations to understand people's psychological preferences in how they perceive the world and make decisions.
The theory defines 4 axes on which everyone is plotted.
- introvert - extrovert: whether you are "energised" by solitude or by other people. A good way of thinking about it is, when you are really stressed out, do you prefer talking it through with others or shutting yourself away to think it through?
- sensing / intuition: whether you are a detailed or big picture person.
- thinking / feeling: do you make decisions based on facts or based on feelings?
- judging / perceiving: are you a planner or do you leave things to chance? Do you need to finish your work before you play or do you play whenever you like? Do you need a structured plan or are you more spontaneous? When buying an Ikea flatpack, do you read the instructions or do you start getting on with the job straight away?
Each of these axes is a scale, where you determine how strong your preference is.
For example, I have a very marginal preference for the Extrovert way of energising and for the Thinking type of decision-making. However I am 3/4 of the way towards being detailed-oriented ('Sensing'), and I am a very strong planner ('Judging').
At the beginning of our relationship, my boyfriend and I discussed this theory. Since he hadn't taken the assessment before, I took a guess as to which type he was, and sent him a long email explaining why I thought he was an ESTJ. A sociable and extrovert, detailed-oriented, organised person who makes decisions based on logic and facts and doesn't really let feelings influence his decisions.
His response to my indigestible email was: "what an unusual way to say "I love you"!".
I found that a very cute and funny response to the geekiness that many of my friends accuse me of.
A few months later, he actually took the assessment with his company, and to my surprised disappointment, he turned out to be an ISTP, someone who is energised by thinking in solitude, is detail-oriented, makes decisions based on logic and facts and does not like to make plans.
The big discovery was the 'P' - Perceiving. I always thought that because his work requires him to juggle with many projects, clients and deadlines, he was a very organised planner. The assessment showed that he actually prefers spontaneity.
Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Before that, I couldn't understand why he would systematically promise that he would be somewhere at a certain time and tell me at the last minute that he would be there an hour or two later, or not be there at all. I couldn't understand why we would agree to do certain things but he wouldn't even move until the very last minute. I thought his behaviour showed a lack of commitment and consideration.
Well, it wasn't any of those. It's just how he is, how his brain thinks and drives his behaviour.
Nowadays when I get annoyed by his lack of planning and forward-thinking, I just blurt out: "you're such a 'P'!!". It actually sounds like an insult too. After that, I feel satisfied that I have made a point, and I can move on by observing that I accept his personal preferences, without getting upset doubting his feelings for me.
Anyway. Must dash, I am off to sort out a present for his best friend's imminent wedding.
The theory defines 4 axes on which everyone is plotted.
- introvert - extrovert: whether you are "energised" by solitude or by other people. A good way of thinking about it is, when you are really stressed out, do you prefer talking it through with others or shutting yourself away to think it through?
- sensing / intuition: whether you are a detailed or big picture person.
- thinking / feeling: do you make decisions based on facts or based on feelings?
- judging / perceiving: are you a planner or do you leave things to chance? Do you need to finish your work before you play or do you play whenever you like? Do you need a structured plan or are you more spontaneous? When buying an Ikea flatpack, do you read the instructions or do you start getting on with the job straight away?
Each of these axes is a scale, where you determine how strong your preference is.
For example, I have a very marginal preference for the Extrovert way of energising and for the Thinking type of decision-making. However I am 3/4 of the way towards being detailed-oriented ('Sensing'), and I am a very strong planner ('Judging').
At the beginning of our relationship, my boyfriend and I discussed this theory. Since he hadn't taken the assessment before, I took a guess as to which type he was, and sent him a long email explaining why I thought he was an ESTJ. A sociable and extrovert, detailed-oriented, organised person who makes decisions based on logic and facts and doesn't really let feelings influence his decisions.
His response to my indigestible email was: "what an unusual way to say "I love you"!".
I found that a very cute and funny response to the geekiness that many of my friends accuse me of.
A few months later, he actually took the assessment with his company, and to my surprised disappointment, he turned out to be an ISTP, someone who is energised by thinking in solitude, is detail-oriented, makes decisions based on logic and facts and does not like to make plans.
The big discovery was the 'P' - Perceiving. I always thought that because his work requires him to juggle with many projects, clients and deadlines, he was a very organised planner. The assessment showed that he actually prefers spontaneity.
Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Before that, I couldn't understand why he would systematically promise that he would be somewhere at a certain time and tell me at the last minute that he would be there an hour or two later, or not be there at all. I couldn't understand why we would agree to do certain things but he wouldn't even move until the very last minute. I thought his behaviour showed a lack of commitment and consideration.
Well, it wasn't any of those. It's just how he is, how his brain thinks and drives his behaviour.
Nowadays when I get annoyed by his lack of planning and forward-thinking, I just blurt out: "you're such a 'P'!!". It actually sounds like an insult too. After that, I feel satisfied that I have made a point, and I can move on by observing that I accept his personal preferences, without getting upset doubting his feelings for me.
Anyway. Must dash, I am off to sort out a present for his best friend's imminent wedding.
Tuesday 31 July 2012
Confident humility in the workplace
Over the last year I have been to Thailand several times for work, and every time I am struck by how Thai people seem to be exceptionally respectful and helpful.
In my experience they would generally acknowledge your arrival into a room with a large smile and either a nod or with their hands joined together in front of their face and head slightly bowed, welcoming you with a 'sawadee-ka(p)'.
They would always make you feel like they are at your service, and they will be truly pleased to help you if you ask them any favour.
I am in awe of their patience and their confident humility to 'serve' you as an honoured guest while you are in their country.
I am even aware of an email written in English by a Thai person trying to be very polite and helpful to a customer by finishing their message with something along the lines of 'I am at your service to satisfy your heart's desire'...
I chuckled but I am touched by the innocent spirit of service behind it.
I can't help but contrast this with my experience to-date working in the UK where one tends to resist doing anything too remotely distant from one's job spec.
I am also guilty of this.
I feel that in the western professional world, I often have the need to prove my rank or my expert skills and therefore would feel offended if I were asked to do anything below my perceived worth. ('You will never guess what So-And-So asked me to do the other day, the cheek! Doesn't he know I am a qualified accountant? What does he think I am, his secretary?').
I have been concerned that if I do not 'stand up for myself' I will be taken advantage of, what with being a really nice and helpful person and all that...
I have had to balance my endeavour to be a good team player and volunteer to do thankless jobs to improve my team's performance with the need to assert my position and credibility with my seniors as well as people I managed.
My Thai experience also heavily contrasts with my experience working with some large companies in the UK where the culture is one of antagonism and unspoken battle for power and the upper-hand in all situations. Different departments would struggle for power, trying to push for work to be done by others, trying to prove who is more important, and whose time is more precious...
Don't get me wrong, I am a real advocate of getting the right people with the right skills to do the right jobs that suit their competency. This is the efficient way of getting things done as a team.
I recently talked my boyfriend into getting a cleaner by discussing the 'opportunity cost' of him spending half a day cleaning his flat himself at weekends when he works 70 hours a week. What else could he be doing in his precious free time instead of scrubbing his bathtub? Or another way of looking at it: how much would he pay himself to clean his flat? (this one didn't work: he is clearly too humble to think that his cleaning skills are worth much).
But I digress.
Clearly this power struggle also exists in Thailand, but I am unaware of it in my own experience, owing to the blissful ignorance provided by the language barrier.
I can't say that I understand much about what goes on when I am at work in Thailand, since people seem very busy running around to do things for you that you didn't even know you needed, therefore in the absence of words to assess my environment, I rely on feelings. And those are very warm and welcoming.
I am learning a lesson of patience and tolerance with this experience, and wish I had the confidence to have the humility to be always that helpful.
Who said language barriers were a bad thing!
In my experience they would generally acknowledge your arrival into a room with a large smile and either a nod or with their hands joined together in front of their face and head slightly bowed, welcoming you with a 'sawadee-ka(p)'.
They would always make you feel like they are at your service, and they will be truly pleased to help you if you ask them any favour.
I am in awe of their patience and their confident humility to 'serve' you as an honoured guest while you are in their country.
I am even aware of an email written in English by a Thai person trying to be very polite and helpful to a customer by finishing their message with something along the lines of 'I am at your service to satisfy your heart's desire'...
I chuckled but I am touched by the innocent spirit of service behind it.
I can't help but contrast this with my experience to-date working in the UK where one tends to resist doing anything too remotely distant from one's job spec.
I am also guilty of this.
I feel that in the western professional world, I often have the need to prove my rank or my expert skills and therefore would feel offended if I were asked to do anything below my perceived worth. ('You will never guess what So-And-So asked me to do the other day, the cheek! Doesn't he know I am a qualified accountant? What does he think I am, his secretary?').
I have been concerned that if I do not 'stand up for myself' I will be taken advantage of, what with being a really nice and helpful person and all that...
I have had to balance my endeavour to be a good team player and volunteer to do thankless jobs to improve my team's performance with the need to assert my position and credibility with my seniors as well as people I managed.
My Thai experience also heavily contrasts with my experience working with some large companies in the UK where the culture is one of antagonism and unspoken battle for power and the upper-hand in all situations. Different departments would struggle for power, trying to push for work to be done by others, trying to prove who is more important, and whose time is more precious...
Don't get me wrong, I am a real advocate of getting the right people with the right skills to do the right jobs that suit their competency. This is the efficient way of getting things done as a team.
I recently talked my boyfriend into getting a cleaner by discussing the 'opportunity cost' of him spending half a day cleaning his flat himself at weekends when he works 70 hours a week. What else could he be doing in his precious free time instead of scrubbing his bathtub? Or another way of looking at it: how much would he pay himself to clean his flat? (this one didn't work: he is clearly too humble to think that his cleaning skills are worth much).
But I digress.
Clearly this power struggle also exists in Thailand, but I am unaware of it in my own experience, owing to the blissful ignorance provided by the language barrier.
I can't say that I understand much about what goes on when I am at work in Thailand, since people seem very busy running around to do things for you that you didn't even know you needed, therefore in the absence of words to assess my environment, I rely on feelings. And those are very warm and welcoming.
I am learning a lesson of patience and tolerance with this experience, and wish I had the confidence to have the humility to be always that helpful.
Who said language barriers were a bad thing!
Monday 9 July 2012
Holiday reading
Apparently French people read as much on holidays as they do during the rest of the year combined.
I love holiday reading, because you can take your time savouring each word, each sentence, each detail. You can read long chunks of a book in one go, therefore really getting into the atmosphere of the book and think about what you are reading rather than just superficially following the broad lines. The best thing is you don't need to read the same line over and over again because your brain is too tired to focus or because you have inadvertently fallen asleep in the midst of the process.
I really enjoy tackling new subjects on holidays that I have an interest in, but have not had much time to look into in more detail during the rest of the year. Previous subjects have included environmental issues, the banking crisis, the meaning of friendship, relationships, etiquette at work, and Neuro Linguistic Programming. (Yes, I am a fan of self-help books, despite much teasing from my friends; I find that they help me re-assess my beliefs and behave in a way that is truer to myself).
Of course, I always bring my dose of light and inconsequential reading which allows you to sit on the beach and spend time in a frivolously purposeless manner.
This year, during our holiday in France, one of the subjects I will be looking into is chess. My blonde-haired blue-eyed Chinese boyfriend (see post on Love Languages) introduced me to chess after I complained that my strategic thinking was abysmal.
I experienced BBCB's naturally great pedagogical skills there.
After explaining the basic rules and roles to me, we started playing, and of course, at first I could not think of anything else than what my current move should be, often taking a long time to decide, in fear of making the wrong decision.
To help me relax and enjoy the game, BBCB employed a few unusual tactics. First he would ask me questions such as: what happens if you make that move? and we would work out together the sequence of events that this particular move would trigger. It would generally eventually lead to me losing the game. At that point of realisation, he would get back to the original decision point in the game, piece by piece, move by move (How can anyone remember that many moves??!!) and I would have another go at making that original move.
Another tactic BBCB has used to help me think about my adversary's game is to suddenly turn the board around and switch games: I would take his pieces and he would take mine. At the beginning I would often feel like I am starting a new game, having paid no attention whatsoever to his pieces and how advanced he is in his game.
I really enjoy our chess games: we both play for me to win! And I am very grateful that BBCB clearly has the patience of a saint...
Another book I will be reading is The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton. I will always remember that my last philosophy teacher at university (in a business programme) said to me in our last class with her that most students probably won't ever do any more philosophy in their lives. She was probably right for the majority of the time, but holidays give a great opportunity to make an exception to the rule. A little bit of philosophical thinking is good for the soul! And Mr de Botton is good at making philosophy accessible and pleasant to read.
Then I would like to read Watching the English by Kate Fox (subtitled The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour) again. This is a very insightful and funny book about things English people do, which during my first years in the UK used to seem completely alien, illogical, eccentric, quaint... but which I now also do myself unconsciously, having clearly had a cultural transplant! I recently celebrated my 10th year living in the UK, and I would like to think about all the things that I love about the English and that have made me want to stay in this country.
The whole thing will be punctuated by dipping in and out of French learning books, as BBCB is intending to further improve his already very good French. I am planning to give him daily challenges to use a series of expressions and words he has learnt.
Hopefully these challenges will lead us to discover the region's tasty cuisine (we are off to French Catalonia). For any French-Chinese person no holiday is complete without satisfying your tastebuds' hunger and curiosity! For background on how I am French-Chinese, you can refer to this post.
I am already dreaming of 'jamòn jabugo' (exceptional cured ham from very muscled black pigs exclusively fed on acorns), 'sobrasada' (paprika and mince meat spread), tomatoes packed with flavour and of course the local wines, especially the sweet red Banyuls, which I am planning to drink as an accompaniment to whichever fanciful dessert will be on offer.
Now my stomach is growling. I am going to prepare dinner before dreaming about what brasserie dishes I will have during our stopover in Paris: escargots? steak tartare? sole meunière?... (Obsessed? Me??)
I love holiday reading, because you can take your time savouring each word, each sentence, each detail. You can read long chunks of a book in one go, therefore really getting into the atmosphere of the book and think about what you are reading rather than just superficially following the broad lines. The best thing is you don't need to read the same line over and over again because your brain is too tired to focus or because you have inadvertently fallen asleep in the midst of the process.
I really enjoy tackling new subjects on holidays that I have an interest in, but have not had much time to look into in more detail during the rest of the year. Previous subjects have included environmental issues, the banking crisis, the meaning of friendship, relationships, etiquette at work, and Neuro Linguistic Programming. (Yes, I am a fan of self-help books, despite much teasing from my friends; I find that they help me re-assess my beliefs and behave in a way that is truer to myself).
Of course, I always bring my dose of light and inconsequential reading which allows you to sit on the beach and spend time in a frivolously purposeless manner.
This year, during our holiday in France, one of the subjects I will be looking into is chess. My blonde-haired blue-eyed Chinese boyfriend (see post on Love Languages) introduced me to chess after I complained that my strategic thinking was abysmal.
I experienced BBCB's naturally great pedagogical skills there.
After explaining the basic rules and roles to me, we started playing, and of course, at first I could not think of anything else than what my current move should be, often taking a long time to decide, in fear of making the wrong decision.
To help me relax and enjoy the game, BBCB employed a few unusual tactics. First he would ask me questions such as: what happens if you make that move? and we would work out together the sequence of events that this particular move would trigger. It would generally eventually lead to me losing the game. At that point of realisation, he would get back to the original decision point in the game, piece by piece, move by move (How can anyone remember that many moves??!!) and I would have another go at making that original move.
Another tactic BBCB has used to help me think about my adversary's game is to suddenly turn the board around and switch games: I would take his pieces and he would take mine. At the beginning I would often feel like I am starting a new game, having paid no attention whatsoever to his pieces and how advanced he is in his game.
I really enjoy our chess games: we both play for me to win! And I am very grateful that BBCB clearly has the patience of a saint...
Another book I will be reading is The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton. I will always remember that my last philosophy teacher at university (in a business programme) said to me in our last class with her that most students probably won't ever do any more philosophy in their lives. She was probably right for the majority of the time, but holidays give a great opportunity to make an exception to the rule. A little bit of philosophical thinking is good for the soul! And Mr de Botton is good at making philosophy accessible and pleasant to read.
Then I would like to read Watching the English by Kate Fox (subtitled The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour) again. This is a very insightful and funny book about things English people do, which during my first years in the UK used to seem completely alien, illogical, eccentric, quaint... but which I now also do myself unconsciously, having clearly had a cultural transplant! I recently celebrated my 10th year living in the UK, and I would like to think about all the things that I love about the English and that have made me want to stay in this country.
The whole thing will be punctuated by dipping in and out of French learning books, as BBCB is intending to further improve his already very good French. I am planning to give him daily challenges to use a series of expressions and words he has learnt.
Hopefully these challenges will lead us to discover the region's tasty cuisine (we are off to French Catalonia). For any French-Chinese person no holiday is complete without satisfying your tastebuds' hunger and curiosity! For background on how I am French-Chinese, you can refer to this post.
I am already dreaming of 'jamòn jabugo' (exceptional cured ham from very muscled black pigs exclusively fed on acorns), 'sobrasada' (paprika and mince meat spread), tomatoes packed with flavour and of course the local wines, especially the sweet red Banyuls, which I am planning to drink as an accompaniment to whichever fanciful dessert will be on offer.
Now my stomach is growling. I am going to prepare dinner before dreaming about what brasserie dishes I will have during our stopover in Paris: escargots? steak tartare? sole meunière?... (Obsessed? Me??)
Friday 6 July 2012
Friday night and the first sip of beer
I love the French author Philippe Delerm. And I recently found a wonderful English translation of his best-selling collection of short stories 'La Première Gorgée de Bière' entitled 'We Could Almost Sit Outside'. This means I have been able to enjoy the delicious little stories with my non-French speaking friends.
I never understood the pleasure of beer until I started living in the UK.
I used to think it was a wishy washy beverage chosen by red-nosed middle aged men who were in the bars a little too early in the day and a little too often (well, I suppose that's still not entirely false, but it's become kind of an endearing thought for me).
I got into the habit of frequenting the pub next to the office with a couple of (male) colleagues after work in my first year in the UK, and would have a couple of pints of Stella before commuting home.
Maybe I was taking the saying 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' a little bit too seriously then, but the result is that it opened my eyes to the joys of drinking beer.
In Monsieur Delerm's wonderful (translated) words, 'The first gulp! Its journey is already well advanced by the time it reaches your throat. With a frothy trail of foaming gold around your lips, bitter happiness slowly permeates your palate. [...] The ritual is familiar enough: the right quantity to ensure a perfect prelude; the instant rush of well-being, punctuated by a contented sigh, a smack of the lips, or silence; the giddy sensation of pleasure teetering in the brink of infinity...'
How accurately described! I love this feeling on a Friday night, after a long week at work: as you gulp down that first sip of beer, you feel all the burdens and the worries you have carried during 5 days melt into the golden liquid.
Do I sound like a bloke? Hold on, it gets worse!! I later got introduced to real ales and the world of CAMRA pubs. The surprises in the flavours of different carefully brewed lively ales (caramel, grapefruit, and other unexpected things) makes the experience a real joy - at least until my stomach starts to protest against the overload of yeast!
Once during a work function, as I was caught drinking a pint of lager by the Operations Director, a conservative-minded Englishman, I was told that as a lady, I should be drinking half pints.
What was strange was that by switching to half pints, I still drank the same number of glasses, therefore halving my intake and the cost to my wallet. Genius!!
Nowadays I don't tend to socialise with work colleagues in the pub anymore - partly because I work from home.
But I still drink that Friday night beer fondly, and all the years I have lived in the UK and loved this country rush into my brain.
I never understood the pleasure of beer until I started living in the UK.
I used to think it was a wishy washy beverage chosen by red-nosed middle aged men who were in the bars a little too early in the day and a little too often (well, I suppose that's still not entirely false, but it's become kind of an endearing thought for me).
I got into the habit of frequenting the pub next to the office with a couple of (male) colleagues after work in my first year in the UK, and would have a couple of pints of Stella before commuting home.
Maybe I was taking the saying 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' a little bit too seriously then, but the result is that it opened my eyes to the joys of drinking beer.
In Monsieur Delerm's wonderful (translated) words, 'The first gulp! Its journey is already well advanced by the time it reaches your throat. With a frothy trail of foaming gold around your lips, bitter happiness slowly permeates your palate. [...] The ritual is familiar enough: the right quantity to ensure a perfect prelude; the instant rush of well-being, punctuated by a contented sigh, a smack of the lips, or silence; the giddy sensation of pleasure teetering in the brink of infinity...'
How accurately described! I love this feeling on a Friday night, after a long week at work: as you gulp down that first sip of beer, you feel all the burdens and the worries you have carried during 5 days melt into the golden liquid.
Do I sound like a bloke? Hold on, it gets worse!! I later got introduced to real ales and the world of CAMRA pubs. The surprises in the flavours of different carefully brewed lively ales (caramel, grapefruit, and other unexpected things) makes the experience a real joy - at least until my stomach starts to protest against the overload of yeast!
Once during a work function, as I was caught drinking a pint of lager by the Operations Director, a conservative-minded Englishman, I was told that as a lady, I should be drinking half pints.
What was strange was that by switching to half pints, I still drank the same number of glasses, therefore halving my intake and the cost to my wallet. Genius!!
Nowadays I don't tend to socialise with work colleagues in the pub anymore - partly because I work from home.
But I still drink that Friday night beer fondly, and all the years I have lived in the UK and loved this country rush into my brain.
The pleasures of dim sum (yum cha)
As I received the visit of a family member last week, I found myself going and returning to London's Chinatown again and again for those dim sum made by expert chefs trained in Hong Kong, and which just don't taste the same in Paris (which can boast great Vietnamese food but not so much proper Chinese food).
Many varieties of dim sum contain prawns and mince pork, a combination made in heaven.
The firm texture and fresh briny taste of prawns, the crumbly melting texture and intensely salty taste of mince pork, underlined by the crunchy and mild flavours of cabbage or Chinese chives, wrapped in a choice of tofu skin, or thin rice paper or eggy pasta sheet.
Each dim sum is a little cocktail of carefully balanced ingredients, each mouthful an alliance of different tastes and textures having an elated party with your tastebuds.
The hint of chilli from the chilli paste that you have dipped your little parcel in is giving you an extra kick, an extra dimension which makes the party extra special, like that special fruity cocktail you made for your party which makes all your guests want to drink a little more, and encourages them to be even more sociable.
And then all the other varieties.
Pan-fried turnip cake, the wonderfully melting texture of the white cake with the soft turnip and its slightly crunchy chestnuts.
Shanghai dumplings (xiaolongbao, literally little dragon dumplings), the juicy parcel skin having started to soak some of the (dangerously) hot stock packed with meaty and veg flavours, bursting in your mouth as you take your first bite into the pretty round creamy white coloured dumpling.
Fried taro cake, the crispy oiliness of the brown hairy-looking batter stuffed with mince pork and taro, the marriage of the salty, melt-in-the-mouth pork and starchy sweetness of the taro.
Marinated chicken feet - I know it sounds awful, and I don't pretend that it's easy to overcome the repulsive idea if you were not brought up with it - the intense garlic, chilli and soya sauce flavours soaked right through the skin. The soft melting texture of the skin. The highly satisfying gnawing action, biting into the piece, separating the skin from the bones in your mouth, and spitting the bones out (I think only Chinese people can really appreciate the pleasure of gnawing through bones).
And then all the "accessories".
Tea, the only beverage that will help your stomach digest all these little parcels - dim sum are quite oily. Tikuanyin is a family favourite, its strong slightly bitter flavour balancing all the salt in the food, the heat of it comforting your stomach and kicking off the digestion process.
The friends and family, if possible a full table of 10 or 12 people you haven't seen for a long time, catching up as you express your love and care for them by putting parcels in their bowls as the waiters bring them to the table, pouring tea into their cups, making sure that their plate and cup are never empty until no more steaming bamboo dishes are brought in and everyone has a full stomach and is drinking their tea to wash everything down before getting ready to carry on with their own Sunday afternoon's programme of fun.
One of the small pleasures in my life. One more reason for me to stay in the UK!
Many varieties of dim sum contain prawns and mince pork, a combination made in heaven.
The firm texture and fresh briny taste of prawns, the crumbly melting texture and intensely salty taste of mince pork, underlined by the crunchy and mild flavours of cabbage or Chinese chives, wrapped in a choice of tofu skin, or thin rice paper or eggy pasta sheet.
Each dim sum is a little cocktail of carefully balanced ingredients, each mouthful an alliance of different tastes and textures having an elated party with your tastebuds.
The hint of chilli from the chilli paste that you have dipped your little parcel in is giving you an extra kick, an extra dimension which makes the party extra special, like that special fruity cocktail you made for your party which makes all your guests want to drink a little more, and encourages them to be even more sociable.
And then all the other varieties.
Pan-fried turnip cake, the wonderfully melting texture of the white cake with the soft turnip and its slightly crunchy chestnuts.
Shanghai dumplings (xiaolongbao, literally little dragon dumplings), the juicy parcel skin having started to soak some of the (dangerously) hot stock packed with meaty and veg flavours, bursting in your mouth as you take your first bite into the pretty round creamy white coloured dumpling.
Fried taro cake, the crispy oiliness of the brown hairy-looking batter stuffed with mince pork and taro, the marriage of the salty, melt-in-the-mouth pork and starchy sweetness of the taro.
Marinated chicken feet - I know it sounds awful, and I don't pretend that it's easy to overcome the repulsive idea if you were not brought up with it - the intense garlic, chilli and soya sauce flavours soaked right through the skin. The soft melting texture of the skin. The highly satisfying gnawing action, biting into the piece, separating the skin from the bones in your mouth, and spitting the bones out (I think only Chinese people can really appreciate the pleasure of gnawing through bones).
And then all the "accessories".
Tea, the only beverage that will help your stomach digest all these little parcels - dim sum are quite oily. Tikuanyin is a family favourite, its strong slightly bitter flavour balancing all the salt in the food, the heat of it comforting your stomach and kicking off the digestion process.
The friends and family, if possible a full table of 10 or 12 people you haven't seen for a long time, catching up as you express your love and care for them by putting parcels in their bowls as the waiters bring them to the table, pouring tea into their cups, making sure that their plate and cup are never empty until no more steaming bamboo dishes are brought in and everyone has a full stomach and is drinking their tea to wash everything down before getting ready to carry on with their own Sunday afternoon's programme of fun.
One of the small pleasures in my life. One more reason for me to stay in the UK!
Love languages
A few months ago, my boyfriend introduced me to a book called The 5 Love Languages.
Since then I have been fascinated by how people's behaviours and words betray their preferred way of expressing or receiving love.
To the risk of generalising and stereotyping, I would say from my observations that Chinese people tend to express love through Acts of Service and Gifts, and definitely not through either Words of Affirmation or Physical Touch, which would be more of a western way of expressing love and affection - see previous post on family and peculiarities.
The fifth love language is Quality Time, and perhaps this could be a common ground between Chinese and western cultures?
My two dominant love languages are Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. For that reason, my boyfriend says that I am like a little cat, purring and asking to be stroked and cuddled.
To make things really easy, he and I have the same two dominant love languages, which means that without much effort, we both feel emotional safety, reassurance and trust towards each other.
It is quite interesting that we have the same love languages, even if I often joke that I am a black-haired brown slanted-eyed westerner (or "banana": yellow on the outside, white on the inside), and conversely he is a blonde-haired blue-eyed Chinese man, through years spent living and breathing Chinese culture.
He masters the Chinese language incomparably better than I do (yes, I feel ashamed), and his understanding of Chinese cultures is much superior to mine (he actively worked on understanding a foreign culture, whereas I only ever passively tried to cope with a culture gap).
I have come across a few Chinese people who would say, strongly believing that their perception of the world is the one and only truth, that the only proof that you love someone is how much money you have given them (love language of Gifts). They believe that western parents molly-cuddle their children and repeat to them that they love them (Words of Affirmation), but that when it comes to it, they wouldn't part with their money, and therefore their words are empty.
If you have read Battlehymn of a Tiger Mother by Amy Chua, you have come across this dilemma, and it has probably stirred strong emotions in you, making you want to express your opinion loudly, whichever way you lean.
What do I think as a French-born Chinese living in the western world?
I will do what I am often accused of doing, due to my loathing of confrontations: sitting on the fence.
I think that when you love someone enough, you want to have the tolerance to try and understand their point of view, even if it is diametrically opposite to what you believe in. You may never succeed, but you will definitely listen and try.
If you both adopt that mindset, you may still bicker, get frustrated with each other, occasionally feel hurt and often feel misunderstood, but you will know that you are both trying, and accept that the other person just thinks completely differently.
Think of the Buddhist concept of Lovingkindness - wishing everyone well, no matter how similar or different they are (just to throw in some more clashes, as I come from a family of firm believers in Christian Protestant religion).
Easier said than done.
In the meantime, I will relish my easy life with my blue-eyed China man.
Since then I have been fascinated by how people's behaviours and words betray their preferred way of expressing or receiving love.
To the risk of generalising and stereotyping, I would say from my observations that Chinese people tend to express love through Acts of Service and Gifts, and definitely not through either Words of Affirmation or Physical Touch, which would be more of a western way of expressing love and affection - see previous post on family and peculiarities.
The fifth love language is Quality Time, and perhaps this could be a common ground between Chinese and western cultures?
My two dominant love languages are Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. For that reason, my boyfriend says that I am like a little cat, purring and asking to be stroked and cuddled.
To make things really easy, he and I have the same two dominant love languages, which means that without much effort, we both feel emotional safety, reassurance and trust towards each other.
It is quite interesting that we have the same love languages, even if I often joke that I am a black-haired brown slanted-eyed westerner (or "banana": yellow on the outside, white on the inside), and conversely he is a blonde-haired blue-eyed Chinese man, through years spent living and breathing Chinese culture.
He masters the Chinese language incomparably better than I do (yes, I feel ashamed), and his understanding of Chinese cultures is much superior to mine (he actively worked on understanding a foreign culture, whereas I only ever passively tried to cope with a culture gap).
I have come across a few Chinese people who would say, strongly believing that their perception of the world is the one and only truth, that the only proof that you love someone is how much money you have given them (love language of Gifts). They believe that western parents molly-cuddle their children and repeat to them that they love them (Words of Affirmation), but that when it comes to it, they wouldn't part with their money, and therefore their words are empty.
If you have read Battlehymn of a Tiger Mother by Amy Chua, you have come across this dilemma, and it has probably stirred strong emotions in you, making you want to express your opinion loudly, whichever way you lean.
What do I think as a French-born Chinese living in the western world?
I will do what I am often accused of doing, due to my loathing of confrontations: sitting on the fence.
I think that when you love someone enough, you want to have the tolerance to try and understand their point of view, even if it is diametrically opposite to what you believe in. You may never succeed, but you will definitely listen and try.
If you both adopt that mindset, you may still bicker, get frustrated with each other, occasionally feel hurt and often feel misunderstood, but you will know that you are both trying, and accept that the other person just thinks completely differently.
Think of the Buddhist concept of Lovingkindness - wishing everyone well, no matter how similar or different they are (just to throw in some more clashes, as I come from a family of firm believers in Christian Protestant religion).
Easier said than done.
In the meantime, I will relish my easy life with my blue-eyed China man.
Tuesday 3 July 2012
Family members and their peculiarities
Every family has its own peculiarities. We all have an old aunt who is a bit odd, a great-uncle who has a dubious sense of humour, a brother-in-law who has an unusual personality...
As I had the privilege to receive the visit of a dear elder family member during the past week, I have been collecting a few gems, as I experienced the comical side and the frustration that these peculiarities bring.
Workaholic
Amazingly she has been doing business in English, while she never learnt it, nor ever lived in an English speaking country.
She has been up early every morning to check her business emails.
And every morning without fail, as I walked downstairs to blow dry my hair around 8am (I had lent her my blow-drier and left it in her room), she would start asking me questions:
'How do you say XYZ in English? '
'How do you spell "of course"?'
'How do you reply to a message without starting a new email?'
If I interrupt my blow-drying, at this rate it would take me 3 hours to finish drying my hair.
If I don't interrupt myself, I can't hear anything.
What do I do?
'I am taking advantage of the fact that you are by my side to ask you these questions that I normally struggle with.'
Right. Glad I can be of use from the very first moment I am up!
OCD
And every morning without fail, as I walked downstairs to blow dry my hair around 8am (I had lent her my blow-drier and left it in her room), she would start asking me questions:
'How do you say XYZ in English? '
'How do you spell "of course"?'
'How do you reply to a message without starting a new email?'
If I interrupt my blow-drying, at this rate it would take me 3 hours to finish drying my hair.
If I don't interrupt myself, I can't hear anything.
What do I do?
'I am taking advantage of the fact that you are by my side to ask you these questions that I normally struggle with.'
Right. Glad I can be of use from the very first moment I am up!
OCD
In my family many houses are immaculate and look like show apartments. This comes at a cost. Personally, I have been looking after my own household for 15 years, and I like my house to be clean, but I don't like to sacrifice my lifestyle to upgrade it from very clean to über-clean.
Before she arrived, my cousins were starting to tease:
'You must make sure that you have a different pair of slippers for different parts in the house which have different grades of cleanliness'.
While I was wiping the table clean after dinner:
'You must not use the washing up scourer sponge to clean all the table. You should use it to soap up only little dots on the table, then use the plain sponge to wipe the whole table.'
'You need to wipe the dishes with a dishcloth then let them go extra dry on the work surfaces before you put them away.'
She reorganised all my cupboards.
She wiped my fridge, freezer, microwave.
Free cleaning and tidying services, with tips as well!
Pride and expectations
There is a turn of phrase that sounds particularly accusatory. Why didn't you...?
The assumption is that it's obvious what should have been done, yet you didn't do it.
There are clearly certain standards that should be met when you are part of the family, and I hadn't met them.
'Why didn't you turn the toilet you are not using upstairs into a storage room?'
'Why didn't you have some bespoke kitchen cupboards for more space?' (she knows that I had a very restricted house refurbishment budget).
In the train, sitting next to a very good-looking young girl. 'Why don't you dress like this girl, she looks very classy. You would look better in long trousers, especially because your legs are a bit fat.' (I am a size 8 trousers).
Drama
I was woken up at 6.30am by repetitive sneezes the same number of decibels as a motorbike ridden by a teenager full of testosterone trying to impress his friends. 'Oh, did I wake you up? I think I am allergic to the damp smell on your bedsheets.' I smelled them, and couldn't smell anything. And I have the biggest nostrils in my family! Of course I washed the bedsheets again anyway.
'I don't like bins with a lid'. And with that, she starts to leave her rubbish on top of the lid. (The lid sticks sometimes, and she cannot touch the lid because she would have to wash her hands immediately afterwards).
Stubbornness
We went on a little walk in London. She looks up to a shop front sign.
'Oh, Pret A Manger. Is it a French company?
- No it isn't.
- Then they must do French food at least.
- No they do sandwiches and salads.
- You must be wrong, the name is French, it has to have some kind of French food.'
She kind of has a point. Why don't they do any French food with that name?
When you are an expat you have a lot of autonomy and much less influence from your family. It's wonderful to have family members visiting, and to have quality time bonding with people you just don't have the opportunity to spend much time with anymore. But you know what? After a week, I am mentally exhausted by having to think before every single gesture, just to make sure it is the way she wants it done.
And I am so grateful that I can hold the reins of my household again, and lead my life in exactly the way I like, in peace and quiet.
Before she arrived, my cousins were starting to tease:
'You must make sure that you have a different pair of slippers for different parts in the house which have different grades of cleanliness'.
While I was wiping the table clean after dinner:
'You must not use the washing up scourer sponge to clean all the table. You should use it to soap up only little dots on the table, then use the plain sponge to wipe the whole table.'
'You need to wipe the dishes with a dishcloth then let them go extra dry on the work surfaces before you put them away.'
She reorganised all my cupboards.
She wiped my fridge, freezer, microwave.
Free cleaning and tidying services, with tips as well!
Pride and expectations
There is a turn of phrase that sounds particularly accusatory. Why didn't you...?
The assumption is that it's obvious what should have been done, yet you didn't do it.
There are clearly certain standards that should be met when you are part of the family, and I hadn't met them.
'Why didn't you turn the toilet you are not using upstairs into a storage room?'
'Why didn't you have some bespoke kitchen cupboards for more space?' (she knows that I had a very restricted house refurbishment budget).
In the train, sitting next to a very good-looking young girl. 'Why don't you dress like this girl, she looks very classy. You would look better in long trousers, especially because your legs are a bit fat.' (I am a size 8 trousers).
Drama
I was woken up at 6.30am by repetitive sneezes the same number of decibels as a motorbike ridden by a teenager full of testosterone trying to impress his friends. 'Oh, did I wake you up? I think I am allergic to the damp smell on your bedsheets.' I smelled them, and couldn't smell anything. And I have the biggest nostrils in my family! Of course I washed the bedsheets again anyway.
'I don't like bins with a lid'. And with that, she starts to leave her rubbish on top of the lid. (The lid sticks sometimes, and she cannot touch the lid because she would have to wash her hands immediately afterwards).
Stubbornness
We went on a little walk in London. She looks up to a shop front sign.
'Oh, Pret A Manger. Is it a French company?
- No it isn't.
- Then they must do French food at least.
- No they do sandwiches and salads.
- You must be wrong, the name is French, it has to have some kind of French food.'
She kind of has a point. Why don't they do any French food with that name?
When you are an expat you have a lot of autonomy and much less influence from your family. It's wonderful to have family members visiting, and to have quality time bonding with people you just don't have the opportunity to spend much time with anymore. But you know what? After a week, I am mentally exhausted by having to think before every single gesture, just to make sure it is the way she wants it done.
And I am so grateful that I can hold the reins of my household again, and lead my life in exactly the way I like, in peace and quiet.
Monday 25 June 2012
Teochew culture through the glasses of its language
I mentioned in an early post that there are many Teochew communities abroad (outside of the region in China) - around 10m people!
Several hundreds of thousands of them live in the Chinatown in Paris' 13th arrondissement alone (this is where I grew up), having emigrated there from Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos in the 1970s.
Teochew people may be living in Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, Hong Kong, France, the US, etc, but there is a real identifiable Teochew culture that is passed on from generation to generation.
As a 3rd generation expatriate (my grandparents lived in Teochew, but neither my parents' generation nor mine ever lived or even went there), this is my observation of the Teochew culture through the glasses of its language and use of expressions.
1) Life is hard and bitter
Bitter melon is a vegetable prized by Teochew people despite its aggressively bitter taste.
It looks like a pale knobbly cucumber, and is used in soups (my favourite is soup of bitter melon stuffed with mince pork), omelettes, stir-fries, etc.
When eating with my non-Chinese friends, if we happen to have it on the table, I will feel a slight sense of dread as I watch them put it in their mouth for the first time, and my face will automatically take an empathetic look. Invariably the corners of their mouths will turn down, from the aggressively bitter taste that has no real comparison in any Western cuisine that they or I have ever tasted (maybe raw olives or broad beans still in their pod if you have ever tasted them).
My uncle says that you need to have tasted the bitterness of life to be able to appreciate that vegetable.
I personally liked it from an early age. Clearly I've had a very hard life!
I have always felt that there is indeed a real belief in Teochew culture that life is difficult and that you have to work very hard to survive. And it makes me think of this expression: 'waist like a tortoise' means 'hunchback', the idea that your back has been forced to bend by the heavy burden of hard work. You might say 'he works until his waist is like a tortoise'.
2) Social values
There is a concept that my mum has spent our childhood and our adulthood to date (and most probably for many more years to come) trying to get into our heads: the concept of 'Zuo ren'. Litterally 'to be a person / human'.
Note: I am using mandarin phonetic translation because I am unfamiliar with Teochew phonetic translation and always end up confusing myself when I try.
Sentences I often hear are 'bu hui zuo ren' (one doesn't know how to be a person), referring to people who don't abide by the correct social etiquette, and 'bu shi zhe yang zuo ren' (this is not how you are / behave like a person), referring to someone who has behaved in a way that society will disapprove of.
To me this is a very strong and unforgivable concept, to be able to judge whether someone is worthy of being called a person. If they can't be called a person, then what are they? An animal?
I have wondered for a long time what exact array of criteria make up this concept. I will reserve a more thought through explanation for another time, but for now, here are a few illustrations of what is valued or disapproved of.
'He is so salty astringent':
He is so stingy. The astringent taste of unripe plums or olives makes your tongue dry, it makes you wince a little.
The mental image I get is of someone skinny, shriveled and wrinkled.
'Desiring to be in the limelight':
This is a derogatory adjective used for someone who likes showing off, something that Teochew people disapprove of. Humility is a laudable character trait.
'Eat fast, walk fast; go to sleep late but rise early':
Teochew people are generally very hard workers and acute business minds. They are sometimes called the 'Jews of Asia'.
I guess that might explain why many of my family members are what Western people might call workaholics?
3) Talking with strong colourful expressions that give your imagination (and your stomach) a roller-coaster ride!
As I grew up, my parents were using certain expressions as encouragements or (mainly) threats to ensure that we behaved, and because I had heard those expressions so many times, I only focussed on their purpose but never dissected them to extract their literal meaning.
Until recently, when I was on a business trip with some family members. We hooked up with my uncle's best friend in Hong Kong, and he used some very colourful expressions which I had never heard before.
It took a little while for my Western brain to get over the crudeness of the expressions, but eventually my eyebrows dropped back down to their normal place, I took my hand away from before my mouth and pushed my jaw back up (elements of my usual horrified look), and started to appreciate the art of colourful scatological expressions.
One thing is for sure: the images strike your imagination and you really understand and remember what the person using the expression wants to say!
Warning: it is not for the faint-hearted! You may want to leave it till after your dinner to read...
'Taking your trousers off to fart':
It seems that for Teochew people, when one needs to fart it is unnecessary to take one's trousers off. One only needs to take their trousers off to poo. This refers to an unnecessarily complicated process. 'Faffing around' could be an approximate translation.
'Give someone a smelly fart beforehand':
This uses the idea that a smelly fart is generally the precursor of an activity of the bowel. Isn't this a really stinky way of saying 'preparing someone for some big news'?
'Treating something (said) like a fart':
As this refers to not giving consideration to something said or not listening to, acknowledging or obeying a suggestion, recommendation, order, etc, this has to mean that for Teochew people, farting is an activity that is overlooked in society, and that it is common and acceptable for people to fart in other people's presence.
Hmmmm I think that Chinese people's idea of what falls into the 'tasteful' category is very different to that of the French or the British! What do you reckon?
'Smelly mouth':
This means talking inconsequently or saying the opposite of what you actually believe in your heart, and may be translated by 'you don't mean what you are saying'.
I can't come up with a clever explanation of what this has to do with a smell in your mouth. Maybe that there is a bad smell coming from inside which betrays hidden thoughts?
'Spitting poo and spitting pee':
This is actually a cruder version of our 'talking sh*t'. Except this is not mere talking, it is spitting! Teochew people love strong images!
And to crown it all... one that accompanied much of my childhood...
'Did you grow up eating poo?' (generally uttered by a very angry shouting Chinese parent after you have done something you are really, but really not supposed to do):
This refers to the upbringing rules 'fed' by parents to their children for them to grow up (in maturity vs physically). If you are behaving in an unacceptable way, then you have been badly brought up, or you have been 'fed' unsuitable rules.
Although this rhetorical question always brought me close to tears by how insulting it is and how horrible the image is (who likes being told off by their parents?!), I always thought that saying this also reflects on the parents' responsibility to bring their children up properly...?
No doubt this is another one of the mysteries that I might crack one day in my long quest to bridge the gap between my French and Chinese sides...
Do you know strong colourful expressions that strike the imagination and teach cultural concepts and values effectively?
I would love to hear your thoughts!
Note:
The title of this post was inspired by 'Through the Language Glass' by Guy Deutscher, a very interesting and clever book about the interaction between language and culture. I hope Mr Deutscher won't mind (if he notices)!
I also used a post from Friends of Station SIN to help me explain some of the expressions.
Sunday 24 June 2012
A Frenchwoman in Greater London
When I recently reached the 10 year-mark of my life in the UK, I looked back at how things evolved from what they were when I first arrived.
I was fresh out of university (to be accurate, a business school in France), had always had top marks and never-ending praises from teachers in English, and had never really spent any significant amount of time in an English-speaking country. Naively, I thought that if I had always been top of the class throughout high school and further education in English, then surely working in the UK was going to be a doddle (even if I didn't know that particular word back then - 'doddle').
So finally here I come to an 'Anglo-Saxon' country from the top of my 21 years old, feeling like I was going to conquer the world.
I arrived in August, to what seemed like a very cold and rainy autumn, with completely unsuitable summer clothing. My commute to work involved a short train journey from Wembley station, and in the sleepiness of the early mornings, as I waited for my trains in the middle of the cold and draughty old station, with damp wind gushing through my bones and all the Asian faces around me (in France, foreign faces are seldom Indian-looking, but rather Chinese or African), I truly wondered whether actually I accidentally took a trip to a strange unknown developing country instead.
Soon I worked out that I really could not understand what people were saying. 'This really isn't like in the American films I have been watching or any of the videos that my English teachers have been using to improve our listening comprehension' I used to think, 'what language are they speaking here?'.
First of all, when I was introduced to people, they were making this strange noise which reminded me of kung fu films, and that was making me jump back in surprise and fear. I later worked out that British people greet each other with an enthusiastic and high-pitched 'Hiya!!' when they are friendly with you.
I asked people to repeat themselves a lot, and in the first month, it didn't matter how many times that was, I still didn't get what they said. I got so frustrated that sometimes, I just walked away.
Many a time, I would have a Scottish, Irish or South African person on the phone, and the conversation was just ridiculous: I could not understand the numbers they were saying - I couldn't decide whether to burst into a hysterical laugh or to cry at how difficult this was.
Although my spoken English was formal and not at all idiomatic, people used to understand me very well. So I would end my phone conversations at work with 'could you confirm what we discussed in a fax please?'
As for a lot of French people, my reading comprehension was miles better than my listening comprehension.
I was very determined to improve very quickly - I simply could not cope with that much frustration for long - and soon my little vocabulary notepad was full of useful words and expressions which I conscientiously memorised and tried to use again.
One of my colleagues was a young and tall rugby player who used to tease me by saying that this is the best country in the world because it is GREAT Britain. I used to overload him with my language questions, to which he would sometimes respond amicably in characteristic English humour 'Bloody foreigner!'. It reminded me to occasionally pause in my continuous and intense quest to conquer the English language to laugh at comical situations and take in the progress I had made.
In Chinese education, your parents tell you that if you work hard enough, you can do anything. And sure enough, after much hard work and persistence through many frustrating and comically ridiculous situations, I started to be able to understand people quite well, express myself in a more idiomatic way, and managed to have fluent conversations at a decent level within 4 or 5 months.
Things stepped up when I had a sentimental relationship with an Englishman. He was a bit of a lad, had left school at 16, yet managed to climb up the corporate echelons through good business skills, and favoured slang and idiomatic expressions to formal words. In our first interactions, I had no idea what he was talking about, even if I understood every word. What on earth does 'doing my head in' mean? Or 'making things up'? Or even 'working things out'?
I learnt to speak like a true native.
A few years later, I found myself in Yorkshire for the majority of the working week, working on projects for my company. It was a step back in my ability to understand people, but by then I was used to having to work hard from an uncomfortable start to reach my goals. I even picked up a slight Northern accent, and when ringing my cousin in London one day, got told that she spent a few seconds wondering 'who is this northern girl ringing me?'
The best milestone was when I first found myself reading books in English seamlessly, without stopping to check the dictionary after every paragraph.
Fast forward to 10+ years after my first arrival. I still learn words and expressions from time to time, although I no longer carry a notepad with me everywhere. Sometimes they are simple words I just never came across in the past. Recently I had to ask my friend's daughter 'what's a stitch?' (I had worked out we were not talking about the sewing or the laughing kind). Funnily, this is probably very revealing of the fact that I hardly ever run!
Mostly I enjoy being able to fully understand what people mean, what they refer to, with all of the nuances that their choice of words and tone express, not just the general meaning.
It makes me able to understand the English culture and to integrate by saying the right things at the right time (or trying at least), respond to a joke appropriately, and build trust with friends and credibility with colleagues.
This will probably sound like self-flattery, and I know that my written English is still far from being perfect, but I would just like to mention that many new people I meet nowadays tell me that they thought I was born or at least raised in the UK. What a wonderful compliment to have for those efforts throughout the years! I feel very proud of that achievement.
From time to time I will have a dumb day where words just don't come in English at all - they are a mixture of French or Chinese. And conversely, when I return to my home town, I sometimes realise that I am constructing sentences in an English way and that it just doesn't sound right in French. My sister usually politely laughs and kindly corrects me.
Learning to speak a foreign language fluently is one of the hardest yet one of the most rewarding endeavours that I have ever engaged in. It has brought a lot of richness in my life, not only the ability to fully understand people in the country I live in, but also the ability to fully integrate in it and to completely feel at home here.
Today I just feel that the UK is my loved and loving, welcoming adopted country.
What is your experience of expatriation?
First things first. Food talk!
Having grown up with French AND Chinese cultures, I am suitably obsessed by food: once I have finished a meal, often I will start planning my next one.
In my mind, days are made up of several chunks of time, separated by meals. Meal times are happy times because you can experience one of the best pleasures in life: eating. And the world is so full of wonderful dishes!
This is the French side of me.
Now to the Chinese side...
My grandparents' experienced hunger in their early lives in China, and recently to my great surprise my grandmother told me that she spent her childhood surviving solely on sweet potatoes. Once she begged her father for a bowl of rice with some soy sauce as a treat. Now this is what I would eat as a student if I had run out of money at the end of the month from too much partying!
Overall this background has stayed deeply ingrained in my family culture in many ways. Although my parents grew up in relative abundance, they never let me waste food as a child - they would threaten us with 'if you don't finish every single rice grain in your bowl, then you will be a beggar when you grow up'.
At family gatherings, meals would be one of the main highlights and would occupy close to half of the conversations at least.
At home my parents would always cook much more than absolutely necessary, and we would never leave the table hungry (actually I often felt like a goose destined to be turned into foie gras and sometimes had to feign a stomach ache to avoid finishing my bowl of food).
If we have guests for dinner, we have to display abundance and quality in food to show that we honour them. Food is used as a communication channel to express respect and love.
In my life as a Franco-Chinese expat in the UK, I have a very strong relationship with food: it occupies my mind for a significant proportion of the day.
I am by no means a great cook, but cooking, especially for other people, provides me with incredible pleasure. Eating, either a new dish at a restaurant or rediscovering a familiar one at home, can still trigger a large flow of - not just saliva, but also - superlatives, along with huge grins on my face and a sensation that everything in the world is just wonderful.
My friends love that I can rustle up some easy but tasty French food for quick casual lunches (a little bit of imagination and you start having many tasty variants of quiches and salads), and also love my Chinese homemade food, dishes taught as a compulsory part of my upbringing by my mother.
And because when I cook, I feel truly relaxed and happy, I just can't think of any better way of cheering myself up on a bleak day than cooking and inviting friends round for a meal or some tea and cake.
I am also very pleased to observe that over the years I have spent living in the UK, the food I have experienced in restaurants has become better and better and better (and it's not just because my food budget in my first years here was much more limited).
Nowadays I would rarely feel that my options are so restricted that I would have to settle for disappointingly mediocre food in bland restaurant chains, and I have had countless wonderful meals in gastropubs.
I am very thankful to Jamie Oliver for opening people's eyes to easy tasty and healthy food, and feel even less inclined to leaving the country when 1) I see how many lovely food-related TV programmes we now have and 2) I increasingly come across British people who are wonderful home cooks and love talking about food!
The food culture here is changing dramatically!!
Although nowadays I feel completely at home living in the leafy English home counties, every so often I will miss foods that I still cannot find that easily in my suburbian village.
'Escargots' (or snails), the soft and tender melt-in-the-mouth small piece of meat in the shell full of garlic and parsley butter (if it's chewy then it's not right).
I sometimes go to London's Chinatown solely to have my fix of roast duck and crispy pork. I like to have them with chili paste, a side dish of Chinese vegetables (pak choi, choi sum, or morning glory are my favourites), lots of rice, and a glass of hot soya milk.
If I haven't been back to Paris for too long, then I will start dreaming of the smell that comes out of the many 'boulangeries' and 'pâtisseries' of the city. The quick cheeky purchase of a chocolate éclair, or simply a 'croissant' or 'pain au chocolat', devoured on the street.
Vietnamese sandwiches (or 'banh mi') from Paris Chinatown, the succulent fattiness of the roast pork meat balanced with sweet grated carrots, crunchy cucumber and fragrant coriander, topped with a little chili sauce wrapped in a tasty French baguette.
The list is endless, but I have to say that Rachel Khoo in her recent TV programme 'The Little Paris Kitchen' did a really good job of showing what the world of food in Paris is about.
Chinese cuisine is full of 'weird and wonderful' foods. You will probably remember the HSBC advert with the dish of giant eel (I'm not even sure that is what it was)?
I came across a food writer who enabled me to understand Chinese food from my French / English brain. Before her, I was always frustrated that I could only talk about Chinese food in Chinese but could never find the right terms in French or English, and therefore could not share certain experiences with my non-Chinese friends.
Fuchsia Dunlop is a British writer who spent years in a (solely Chinese-speaking) Chinese cookery school. She renders the complexity and peculiarities of Chinese food with admirable accuracy and skill. As she describes the umami taste, I can feel my mouth producing exactly the reaction that I previously failed to explain so many times.
Fuchsia Dunlop, the woman who built a bridge between two previously seemingly unreconcilable parts of myself
There are certain proofs that I am not all Chinese. To this day, despite many attempts from my parents to develop the acquired taste in the expensive delicacy that is sea cucumber, I still take a bite and have the same inner dialogue: 'yes, it still looks like a turd, and yes, it still tastes of... well... something like that' (or what I can imagine of it).
There are also certain proofs that I am not all French. I spent the first years in my life being treasured like a little princess by my Chinese grandparents, being the first grandchild that they had to look after. They are originally Teochew, which is a place within the province of Guangdong. Many Teochew people fled the region for Western and South East Asian countries: a high proportion of Singapore Chinese people are Teochew, many live in Thailand, the Chinatown in Paris 13th arrondissement is dominated by the Teochew community, and many other places. In fact, if you type 'Teochew' on YouTube, you find a lot of Teochew communities abroad.
I remember breakfast in my early years was congee (rice porridge), with salted radish omelette, many wonderful pickled vegetables, and sometimes some fried fish. All meals were wonderful Chinese dishes sometimes tinted with Cambodian influence (my grandparents lived in Cambodia for many years).
So when I first went to school, my palate was incompatible with cheese. In fear of being told off by teachers and dinner ladies, I would put a piece in my mouth, and would invariably need to run to the loo once the greasy tangy taste hit my tastebuds.
Years of French school dinners, meals at nice French restaurants, and willingness to be able to join in at Cheese and Wine parties have now made me able to enjoy quite a few cheeses, although still today, if I find a cheeseboard solely composed of brie, goats cheese and blue cheese, I disappointingly have to turn it down, which triggers teasing comments from my friends about how I cannot possibly be French if I don't really like cheese.
What is your experience of foreign food? Any good or bad surprises?
And finally, since I promised in my last post some guidance for any tarte Tatin virgin, here is a link to Raymond Blanc's recipe of this deliciously sticky heavenly experience.
Raymond Blanc's tarte Tatin recipe
You can also try using pears for this recipe, which I much prefer.
I made the mistake of licking the spoon I was using while making the caramel syrup when I made this - ouch!! I would recommend you don't do that.
Bon appétit!
First Blog Post: what's this nouveau blog?
Well, I will start by introducing myself.
I am a 30-something woman born in France from Chinese parents, and have spent the last 10 years of my life in the UK (you know, it's always the same story, you think you will spend 2 years in the UK to add an experience abroad onto your CV, and 5 to 10 years later, you're still here! Good old Blighty!).
I had a Chinese upbringing - has anyone read 'Battlehymn of a Tiger Mother'? -, spent my teens in state secondary education in Paris then in the French elite business school education, and spent my twenties working in the English corporate world.
This means I have lived across several cultures for most of my life, and I still find myself surprised, perplexed, fascinated by how much words, expressions, and behaviours show that how we act and what we say and how we say it derives from a specific culture that we belong to.
Do you know how many French words there are in the culinary lexical field? (a lot!) And how many synonyms of 'drunk' in English? (although in reality the French drink more than the English).
If you have left the country where you grew up for a significant period of time, or if your parents come from a different country, you will probably be able to relate if I say that I have often felt like a black sheep in the middle of a happily grazing beautifully white-wool herd.
But the ability to draw from resources from more than one culture and language brings about a real richness in one's comprehension of the world and ability to communicate with others. (Of course, sometimes things get complicated, and what it does brings about is richness in confusion and frustration!)
This is what I would like to explore in this blog - how we live across several cultures, the surprises and richness that it brings, but also the frustrations and comical situations that you can end up in.
Happy reading!
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