One. Whoever says "[When] You're in _________, you should speak _________," clearly doesn't know how difficult it is to learn another language. I'm giving my all, but I just feel like I'm drowning right now. I know it isn't all supposed to immediately come to me, but I feel so severely hindered in my expression that I'm developing a different perspective on how little I've chosen to verbally express myself at home. However, it is still a significant amount compared to my capabilities here.
Also, we need to differentiate the standards we set for ourselves and the standards we set for the "other." Jane H. Hill has written some especially effective summations of this. As Americans, we so often fail to speak the "standard"/"proper" language in the first place, yet still hold foreigners to higher standards than we do ourselves. I, for instance, found myself saying "wanna" instead of "want to," which I'm fairly sure is frustrating to those individuals that are learning - and speaking - the standard. In coming to Chengdu, most people speak Sichuanhua and not Putonghua (Mandarin), the dialect I've chosen to study. I do hear a difference, and it is rather slurred and drawling, with completely different term usage. It is unfortunate that in many instances they are fully capable of understanding me... but when they open their mouths, my brain shuts down - I don't recognize a thing. I feel ridiculously stupid, but I shouldn't... Learning new languages is hard, especially as a monoglot, and especially if you're illiterate.
Two. I was really sick last night. I was bent on taking a half-hour nap before class, which I did... only to wake up 43 minutes late, suddenly having to vomit. Normally in such a situation, our bodies are actually giving us two options: diarrhea, or projectile vomit. I know I'm probably grossing some people out, but I was severely ill and opted not to throw up. I was dehydrated and bed-ridden until about 7-8pm. After taking imodium and drinking a shit-ton of water, I lost access to my first option and started throwing up. I felt much better... and I feel much better, but still weak. I couldn't even do my homework since I was knocked out for almost 15 straight hours and had dreams about poor Chinese people rolling me in garbage and giving me traditional medicine until I was rehabilitated.
Three. After walking 5-7 blocks to the subway, I went down the stairs and promptly turned back around; it looks like an underground airport... I was too scared to even buy a ticket. Feeling frustrated and yearning for familiarity, I decided to try out a KFC or McDonald's that I had passed on the way there. Everyone stared from the windows of KFC as I squinted awkwardly at the menu, realizing McDonald's was probably easier to order from. When I got there, all I could muster up was "qi," or 7, and "xie xie." The chicken sandwich was better than a Peter's Tex-Mex burger, and the fries tasted lighter - similar, but the oil they used was clearly different and less meaty. And the chicken was chicken - brown inside, not some weird white steroid depository. I'll post a picture of the ad for it, since I didn't have my camera at the time I ate it. Finally... I feel full. The way I normally am full.
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