Understanding
Jan 8th, 2008 by Michael Max
A flashback travel log from the summer of 2001. Back when every new word of Chinese learned was a luminous experience.
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I like spending time with my friend from Brazil, Marcelo. His name in Chinese is
Ma Rou-Zi. The sound comes off my tongue like cranking up an old metal windup toy. The kind that had a special key.
He speaks no English, I speak no Portuguese.
So we share our common language.
The one we are learning.
Together.
.
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I’m not sure how to describe a slice of life subtitled in Chinese. How to express the wonder of him taking me to his favorite noodle shop. Shop, yeah, right. It’s one of the countless carts with a vat of bubbling goo. There is a thin alley, a scooter could barely pass through. A roof has been thrown over. And there is a narrow paint peeled counter, with plastic stools. Surprisingly pleasant Asian rock and roll plays as I slide back between the cart, and the crib that holds the owners son.
I see his wife slicing………….Something.
Ma Rou-Zi is a vegetarian. So I ally my fears of eating something very frightening.
Memory is a funny thing, it is difficult to recall in English, the experiences that unfolded in Chinese. I mostly remember a red rich soup, with tender golden noodles. A lot of laughing. The pantomime of trying to explain 習慣 to Ma Rou-Zi. Explaining the concept of what you get used to. We take a few failed runs at it, and end with shrugged shoulders. Later, in the conversation something comes up.
“習慣!”. This is 習慣, this is it! Extemporaneous learning occurs.
We laugh like madmen. Mouths full of noodles and Chinese.
