Mommy, Noam, He is What?

Last week, I just picked up the boys' Israeli passports. These are their fourth ones. No, I do not mean their fourth Israeli passports. No, these are their fourth passport, after their American, their Canadian, and their Polish ones. A real bunch of globetrotters. And it makes me look like a poor mother, with only one passport!

This is a picture I took of family's passports... We are a family of four, for those who do not know us.

For those unfamiliar with the passport business, nope, you can't buy these online (or else we would not have so many people lining up our embassies). As they were born in the States, the kids automatically got the citizenship, and now for most travels, they have been using this passport. Since Pauli and I are respectively Israeli and Canadian citizens, the kids also qualify for those two nationalities. Of course with different countries, different rules, so even if they would have been born here in Beijing, they could never be Chinese, and even if one of us two parents would be Chinese, they would eventually have to make a decision between one and another, as China does not allow dual citizenship. The Polish one? Well, Pauli's parents are of Polish origin, and since Pauli also has this citizenship, the kids automatically qualify for it. The only drawback to all of these is the amount of paperwork. But as you see, it is possible.
Now, time will tell what use they will be able to make out of them. Already last week, when I applied for Russian visas (we are traveling via Moscow to Israel next week), I realized that Polish passports were better, granting for cheaper visas (50$ instead of 150$ or so!). And only later I will come to realize that for this specific destination, Israeli passports are best (free)... 

So indeed our kids are globe-trotters. They already have logged many visas, many long flights, and many immigration officers. But are they only that? Defacto, they are citizen of the world. Later, when one will ask them where are they from, they might have trouble answering... Today, Noam says he is Canadian (proud mommy) but is he really? I was just reading about similar questioning in a blog...

Kids born from parents of different cultures already have a faire bit to process. If they live in one of the parents' birth country, the answer might become easier with time, as they immersed completely in that primary culture. However, when these mixed couples raise their kids in a (third) different culture, then things becomes more tricky. Are our kids Israeli or French-Canadian, or simply American? Are they Jewish or Christian? Can they be all of that together?

Take Emmanuel. Born in the US, he spent most of the 20 months of his long life in China. One month last summer in Canada, one month at birth in the US, 3 weeks in Israel last year and 2 more soon. So he is maybe more Chinese than others. But is he? We obviously do not eat dumplings daily and do not do like the Chinese in most of what we do. But he needs his daily rice! We do not dress Chinese, we do not cook Chinese, we do not spit in public, we do not even speak good Chinese... Well, I might drive now like a Chinese, but I don't think it applies.
In fact, outside of our respective cultures, I came to realize we need to find (and create) references and markers to maintain some of our own cultural identities, and to create our own unique family identity. So, to the despair of my dear husband who finds religion cumbersome, I try to ensure the kids get a bit of a Jewish culture at specific holiday times. But yet I also celebrate our usual Christian holidays, and try to also include some of our traditions. The tricky part for a parent is to know what is important, and how to carry that cultural baggage without too much effort. So it appears it is easier to make a Christmas tree than to make a Seder dinner... We still have to work on that.

One of the main determinant of a culture is its language. So here in Beijing, we try to maintain the Hebrew and the French language. We do it because both are important for me and my husband, respectively, in how we define ourselves. But also because we feel that it can be a strong baggage for our kids' future. So to avoid confusions, I address the kids in French, and Pauli in Hebrew. It has been great for me, now my Hebrew is at the level of a 3 and half year old. Then me and Pauli converse mostly in English. So the kids get exposed to the English language in that way, but also in kindergarten, where Noam has now extensive conversations in English with his little friends. And then of course, by being in China and having a Chinese nanny, we all speak a bit of Chinese, sort of. The kids are really good at it. What is really amazing is that amongst all this mix of languages, the kids seem to make sense of it. When Noam was about a year and half, he could already ask for water in French, in Chinese and in Hebrew, knowing whom to ask in which language.

We have this book at home. It is 42 pages of Hellos, in 42 languages. The book is filled with cute little drawings of kids faces, and not other text than the various forms of greetings. When I first read it first to Noam he asked me right away: "Mommy, Noam, he is what?" I pointed at the little girl with the frizzy hair that says "Shalom", the one with straight brown hair that says "Bonjour", the little boy with a cap that says "Hello" and the little almond-eyed girl that says "Nihao" and told him that he is lucky because he is all of those all together, and that makes him quite special. I am not sure he understood well what it meant but in any cases, he looked happy to be 4 different little guys at one.   

My Son is an Alien...

Here in China, our status of foreigner puts us in a special situation. In practical terms, apart from some inconveniences, it is not really a problem. Of course, we sometimes feel as if we are circus animals, with so many people watching us doing mundane things. Other times we feel just a bit different, as they do things with such obscure logic.  And then, we know we are being monitored (to various degrees probably depending on our profession and background). (Today's post is not so much about monitoring or censorship, but you can refer to these earlier posts here or there...)  We need to report to the police when we come in the country (I blogged about this here), and our elevator is plastered with indications on what each Alien must do upon landing in the country, to report. This is where we learn that we are officially labeled as such (rather than the more friendly term of "foreigner").
I really just can't get used to the word Alien. It really tells about our place here, as if we are always going to be looked at with some distance, with curiosity, interest or bewilderment. In some ways, the terms also evokes some possible risks. Looking back at China's history, not so long ago foreigners were limited to live in a few official hotels and apartments during their stays. And Chinese were officially encouraged to limit their contacts with Aliens (read here about early eighties' general state of mind towards Aliens ). And in a not so much more distant past, China was completely closed to the exterior world. Of course a huge amount of things have changed since the beginning of the Economic Reform, but it should not be a great surprise if some terminology in usage today still transpire the historical past of the country.
I could maybe start some kind of chinese archeological linguistic research here... 
And then when Emmanuel was born, we of course also had to register to him, and get him an official Chinese Diplomat ID (yes he is starting his career a bit young). And then I understood that despite all good intentions, their perception of us might be, well, hum, different...

Poor Emmanuel, he is fine now.

Sinking Under The Weight Of The 汉语。。。

Shame on me. This has been too long since my last post! I had promised myself I would be a good reporter, and would let you know about our lives here, and then I disappeared like this!

There are several reasons for this, but the main one is that since my return from France last month I have enrolled in this new Chinese school, with 4 hours per day of lessons. It is very interesting, but as it sounds, very intense. 

Since our arrival my learning has been one on one with a young teacher, Qihua, a very nice young woman from Chongching. After several months of daily one and half hour classes, even if there was progress, I felt it was limited. I started to feel a certain lost in motivation. In fact what really triggered me is that my friend Paige, after a month of the 4 hours a day regime, was now pretty much at my level, with my 5 months of one and half hour a day diet. So I went for the big change, registered to the school and started the program. 

Every morning we have two classes, a first one about writing and a second one about speaking. As a good visual learner, and with a good background from the method I followed before, I feel really comfortable with this class (probably a sign that I could be upgraded to a different class). But when it comes to the speaking class, I have been feeling like my brain in flapping in the wind with so many new words, and so much information intake. The classes are really fast, and I have to catch up on vocabulary that others in the class have having (the colors, clothing, etc). I assumed that since I started (less than a month ago) I have been seeing more than 200 new characters! Truly a challenge, since I have trouble finding extra time (beyond the hour and half I already spend for the homework). But outside of class I can feel a certain progress, so I do not despair.

So my blog is suffering, and you have been left in the dark... 

Tonal Tuning - Taxi Story One

One month ago, returning from a shopping expedition, I had a small moment of grace.  I did not have a religious experience; at the contrary it was a rather a banal one. But what a big deal for me: I had my first-ever small chat in Mandarin. I had hopped in a cab with a bag of freshly made popcorn, and the driver initiated a chat. Unlike those in Montreal, Paris, Tel Aviv, New York or London, taxi drivers here are not really the chatting type. It is quite acceptable here to get in a cab, state a destination, drive in silence, and only exchange words at the time of fare paying. No weather talk or traffic comments are expected, and not only from foreigners. 

But that driver was curious and wanted to talk. He started by asking me if we had popcorn in my country. And where I was from. And how long I had been here. How many Chinese lessons have I been taking weekly. The conversation kept going for the length of the whole ride, which was a little long as I was arriving from the West side of the city. 

Don't take me wrong, I was not chatting away like an Italian. At the contrary, I was rather slow, using very limited sentence structures, and probably was very roughly clear tonaly. At times I had serious trouble expressing anything near to what I wanted to say. But the fact that I could understand most of what this guy was saying, and that I could actually find a few words to provide some answers was precious! 

It felt as if my daily one hour and half 中文课 sessions were starting to pay off. 

Then the next day, things went back in their order: another cab driver got exasperated with my poor language skills and started repeating what I was saying like a parrot, adding a question to everything (吗 ma?), indicating obviously his inability to understand me. As I could not provide him with further clarifications, he started shouting at me some ineligible things that did not sound friendly at all. I realized then that my ride with this him would not take me anywhere, so I just jumped out (fortunately we were not moving yet). That little event roughly brought me back from my little 高兴 happiness cloud. 

De Taxi Story One

One month later, with a few more characters in my pocket, I am still hoping for another moment of grace. Of course, there has been a few more of those semi-conversations, and some gained confidence at asking specific things (how much does it cost? where are you driving? I want a coffee; etc.). But in fact it feels like if the last few months have merely been an "ear tuning" exercise. I can now hear some tone differences. At last, since I still have trouble having the right one out of my mouth. I can now recognize some words when people speak around me. I can also sometimes hear those small words that are so short that you would mistake them for non-words. As an example, the word hungry is said like a "e" pushed out of your throat. It is such a strange and short sound that you could not really think it means anything. Throat clearing at its best, it could be. 

And while I am trying to express anything short of a sentence, struggling to repeat these strange sounds, or finding the right words, my poor brain runs on overdrive, so unaccustomed to the twists and turns of the language. Yesterday, in my class, my Chinese teacher ask me about a movie I had seen, the latest Woody Allen (which is a really good one actually). She did not know Allen, she wanted me to practice expressing myself. And what a practice it was: I spend almost one hour trying to explain the story to her in Chinese. To my credit, the story is a typical Allen one, convoluted and funny, but of course told in English or in French, we would have been done within a quarter of an hour. 

208! (or 39792 to go. Humpf!)

I am slowly improving my Putoungua (Mandarin language). I have learned 208 characters so far. I counted. Sounds great, isn't it? Well, I still need to learn 3792 more to be able to read the newspapers. Or another 39 792 to really master the language. Put that way, it can be a bit demoralizing. I mostly try to avoid the idea, and I rather spend my time staring out the cab window, trying to recognized those scribbles I am supposed to know.

There are many things about this language that are puzzling me. First, its sounds and tones. For those who are not familiar with the language, Mandarin is a tonal language. It means that you can say exactly the same sound (for example, "ma") in 4 different manners, and you will get 4 different words and meanings. The first tone is like a stretched out "maaaa". The second one is more like a ascending question "Maa?" The third tone stretches the syllable on two notes, a descending and then ascending one, "maaa-aaa?" And the fourth one is a rather sharp, descending tone, like if saying in a short breath "ma". This tone is the easiest to recognize. Of course to simplify the exercise, those four tonal "ma" have each a different meaning and their respective character.

From the limited vocabulary that I have already acquired, there are already 10 versions of the sound "shi" (and their associated 10 characters), in various tones (with only 4 tones, at least a few are pronounced exactly the same way.) I find this really bizarre. Why would you keep on using the same sounds? Why would you not try to use your tongue and mouth in a different way?

I also am really puzzled by the fact that they only use mono-syllables. In fact each character is one word, one sound, and at least one meaning. Of course, for certain objects you can combine a few characters and you get a new meaning, related to the combination of characters. I find the exercise an interesting way to expand my understanding of their world. For example, television is 电视 (DianShi), a combination of Electric电 (Dian) and Vision 视 (Shi). 

Of course it is not always that simple. (C'est du chinois quand même!) When looking into this very useful Chinese-English online dictionary (to copy the characters in this blog), I realised that there are about 9 other completely different character combination for the same (approximate) pronunciation (if you are tone deaf like me). 9 different DianShi! Amazing!

Also yesterday, during my lesson, I came across a character that is pronounced in a completely different way, depending on its context. 乐 means Happy and is pronounced Le. But it is also meaning Music and is pronounced Yué. I can tell you how much I felt cheated. I really thought that once you know how it is said, at least you are sure of what you read, even if there are slight changes in meaning. Nope. Not really. 

Pfffff.

Of course I have not even yet tried to explain the complexity of the characters themselves! But I will leave this topic for another post, as I am afraid to bore you here...