How I learned I do NOT speak Mandarin in Arkansas?
I have. Once. I no longer remember WHY I was there, except some vague notion it was because my teenage daughter and I were going somewhere, and an online friend of hers lived in Arkansas and, well, you know how it goes.
She had driven most of the way and didn’t care to see whatever small city we were in, so she stayed in the motel while I went foraging for food because her eyes were tired.
At around 7 pm I found a Chinese restaurant with a small placard on the door. “We speak Mandarin.”
It just so happened that I played bridge frequently on line and someone who was often my bridge partner was Chinese and had taught me some Mandarin. I smiled and went in.
A lovely woman, the hostess, looked up with a radiant smile and said, “Hello! Welcome!”
With the casual confidence of someone who had no clue how MANY words and phrases comprised the Mandarin language, I answered “Ni hao.” (Polite hello.)
Her dark eyes lit up and she let fly with what might have been The Gettysburg Address or simply a listing of the menu options. It was then I realized I neither spoke nor understood Mandarin.
Awkward. When she stopped, we looked at each other for a time while I ransacked my memory for anything ELSE I knew in Mandarin and located one more phrase.
I looked her right in the eyes and said, with a helpless shrug that telegraphed “This is all I’ve got.”
I said, “wo ai ni.”
From a translation website:
[/b]”this phrase is an extremely serious declaration of emotional attachment in Chinese and is rarely heard among native speakers[/b]
In English, roughly equivalent to “I love you. I love you so much, I want us to marry, and have children together.”
She stared and then realized my predicament and tried not to laugh. She couldn’t manage not laughing, even with her delicate hand over her mouth. She howled, the howling interspersed with what I assume were apologies.
I laughed, too, almost as hard, because feeling stupid makes me laugh. She waved a helpless hand and retreated through the swinging doors to the kitchen. I could hear inquiring noises and a lot more laughter.
Then the kitchen doors swung open and what seemed like 47 more small dark-haired people came out to see the comedian. It WAS undeniably funny, and they clutched each other and the counters in an effort NOT to ROFL. Most succeeded.
At last the roar of laughter subsided and most returned to the kitchen. The original hostess then said, with an occasional hiccup, in flawless and nearly in accent-less English, “How may we help you?” Giggle.
I humbly ordered a couple of things. She smiled and nodded.
What I believe happened next was one of three things:
1. They were going to close soon and rather than tossing out perfectly good food, they packed it up for me.
2. They thought I was so incompetent I would not be able to order food anywhere else
3. It is customary to pay the entertainment.
My bill was exactly what I had ordered, but the hostess brought out two filled-to-overflowing grocery bags.
When my daughter saw what I carried home, she said, “Mom. You have lost your mind.”
She had driven most of the way and didn’t care to see whatever small city we were in, so she stayed in the motel while I went foraging for food because her eyes were tired.
At around 7 pm I found a Chinese restaurant with a small placard on the door. “We speak Mandarin.”
It just so happened that I played bridge frequently on line and someone who was often my bridge partner was Chinese and had taught me some Mandarin. I smiled and went in.
A lovely woman, the hostess, looked up with a radiant smile and said, “Hello! Welcome!”
With the casual confidence of someone who had no clue how MANY words and phrases comprised the Mandarin language, I answered “Ni hao.” (Polite hello.)
Her dark eyes lit up and she let fly with what might have been The Gettysburg Address or simply a listing of the menu options. It was then I realized I neither spoke nor understood Mandarin.
Awkward. When she stopped, we looked at each other for a time while I ransacked my memory for anything ELSE I knew in Mandarin and located one more phrase.
I looked her right in the eyes and said, with a helpless shrug that telegraphed “This is all I’ve got.”
I said, “wo ai ni.”
From a translation website:
[/b]”this phrase is an extremely serious declaration of emotional attachment in Chinese and is rarely heard among native speakers[/b]
In English, roughly equivalent to “I love you. I love you so much, I want us to marry, and have children together.”
She stared and then realized my predicament and tried not to laugh. She couldn’t manage not laughing, even with her delicate hand over her mouth. She howled, the howling interspersed with what I assume were apologies.
I laughed, too, almost as hard, because feeling stupid makes me laugh. She waved a helpless hand and retreated through the swinging doors to the kitchen. I could hear inquiring noises and a lot more laughter.
Then the kitchen doors swung open and what seemed like 47 more small dark-haired people came out to see the comedian. It WAS undeniably funny, and they clutched each other and the counters in an effort NOT to ROFL. Most succeeded.
At last the roar of laughter subsided and most returned to the kitchen. The original hostess then said, with an occasional hiccup, in flawless and nearly in accent-less English, “How may we help you?” Giggle.
I humbly ordered a couple of things. She smiled and nodded.
What I believe happened next was one of three things:
1. They were going to close soon and rather than tossing out perfectly good food, they packed it up for me.
2. They thought I was so incompetent I would not be able to order food anywhere else
3. It is customary to pay the entertainment.
My bill was exactly what I had ordered, but the hostess brought out two filled-to-overflowing grocery bags.
When my daughter saw what I carried home, she said, “Mom. You have lost your mind.”
