Chinese Language Blog

It was this time last year that I was en route to give a talk at a university in Wuhan.  During the drive from the airport, I began to chat with the driver.  Our focus soon shifted to trade between the US and China.  As we built rapport, he asked very frankly, “是不是美国公司就把这些垃圾食品卖给我们中国人吃?” (Are American companies just selling junk food for us Chinese people [to eat]?)  It seemed like a far-fetched notion at the time that American companies would dump low-grade products on the Chinese market.  If they did that, then they would have no competitive advantage over locally produced low-quality goods, to say nothing of locally-produced high-quality goods.

Having lived across the street from Beijing’s famed 秀水街 (xiu4shui3jie1 – silk market) as well as Shenzhen’s noted 罗湖商业城 (luo2hu2shang1ye4cheng2 Luo Hu Shopping City), I have seen no shortage of fakes, knock-offs, and imitations that were “not quite quite.”  My only possible explanation for the local government’s 睁一只眼闭一只眼 （zheng1yi4zhi1yan3 bi4yi1zhi1yan3 – one eye open, one eye closed) or staggered approach to combating fake goods is that having people employed selling fake goods is generally better for social harmony than having restive unemployed citizens.

The original appeal of 次品 (ci4pin3 – factory seconds) is that goods can be had at low-cost, not unlike the factory rejects often on sale at outlet malls or bargain bins like you might find in the States.  This concept extends beyond mere clothing, however.  Printers with iffy paper feeds, bookcases missing screws for shelves, and other consumer goods are all part of the 次品 market in China.

Knowing the importance that people attach to foreign brands and understanding of quality that exists among Chinese consumers, imagine my surprise to read the March 16 China Daily article describing how several world-famous 名牌 ( ming2pai2 – top brands) imported into China had failed routine quality inspections.

The girlfriend of an associate of mine works for one of the top foreign luxury brands in China, running a store in one of China’s second-tier cities.  She has observed how sales girls with employee discounts will skip one meal per day for months in order to scrounge up the money to purchase a bag from this company.  The revelation that the goods may not be up to par with the originals sold in Europe or the Americas quickly unravels the allure of getting such a product.

Readers, what have you experienced?

When I lived in Beijing, every day I would pass a trash compactor station where tricycle-bound trash collectors would empty the contents of the storage tank mounted on the back.  I would reflect on how having  a roving fleet of trash collectors could replace several garbage trucks and reduce congestion and air pollution on Beijing’s roads.  Anything that could not be recycled was 垃圾 (la1ji1 trash), and I’d bring my paper, glass, and bottles to independent people bearing signs reading 高价回收 (gao1jia4hui2shou1 [high price paid for recycled goods]).  It was never difficult to find them- there were about 3-4 stationary people in high-visibility areas within a 1-mile radius of my apartment.

Now in Beijing’s so-called “7th ring” area, there is a growing concern about trash management.  According to a recent Guardian article, Beijing’s existing trash-handling capacity can only handle 61% of the trash produced daily (11,000 ton handling capacity to meet a daily output of 18,000 tons).  This has led to an unexpected short-term solution.  Instead of developing a contingency plan for improving recycling, waste management officials have installed several deodorant guns near landfills past Beijing’s 6th ring road.  This is used to keep the smell down before the trash is burnt.  This has led me to informally examine systemic issues with recycling both in Beijing and Shenzhen.

In my building, every floor has two separate trash bins- one for recyclable items and one for non-recyclable items.  Since moving to Shenzhen last August, I had assiduously separated my trash into each bin every time I took out the trash.  Earlier this week, I encountered a building employee emptying both bins into one bag, commingling my biodegradable newspapers with plastic bags.  After asking the woman what happens to the trash, she notified me that a person downstairs 分类 (fen1lei4 [sorts]) it.  Except for glass, it seems that most waste could be dropped down a chute rather than having someone come upstairs, mix it, then bring it downstairs for somebody to separate it again.

Most of the  coworkers whom I surveyed expressed that separating their goods was very 麻烦 (ma2fan2 [annoying]), but that they’d consider doing it if it were made easier.  Readers, what have your experiences been with waste management in China?  Does your office separate trash from recyclables?

Now that our readers have familiarized themselves with Chinese numerals (0-100), we can start putting them to good use on the streets and in shopping centers. The following is for everyday purchases (either food, drinks, cheap clothing or trinkets) that costs up to 10 Chinese renminbi 人民币 or yuan 元。 I’d just like to point out that instead of saying 人民币, the vernacular way of saying money is 块 kuai4 when referring to quantity of money because it is a measure word. For example: Q: 这个是多小钱－How much is this？A:六块(钱)-6 Dollars. Here the 钱 is optional, so most people just say 六块。

Like most cultures, China tends to use hand gestures to represent numeric value–but not in the same way westerners do. While numerals 1-5 are represented the same way on one hand, the Chinese have developed an ingenuous way to do all ten numbers on one hand. Please see below:

*As a note, 10 or 十 can also be represented by a crossing of the index and middle finger just as you would for good luck and seven can be represented by pinching your thumb, index finger, and middle finger together.*

I personally found this hand-number system to work quite well if you’re in a very loud area (most cities are quite loud); if you or the person you are talking to are having trouble understanding one another; if you’re in a hurry or long line of people and want to signal for something (particularly effective in bars 酒吧 and take out 带走 spots); or if you want to play some fun drinking games with your 朋友s. And as you’ve probably figured it out by now, each hand signal almost pictographically represents the number in terms of stroke order.

Plus, the hand signals usually get a good rise out of a visiting 外国人. Hawaiians and surfers love the 六 hand-sign, often wriggling their hand back and forth with a grin as to say “aloha” to a vendor. 八 or the number 8 often brings laughs to foreigners who see people holding it up and close to their heads as if to say “loser” to everyone else (my students last year, after watching countless hours of western media soon started walking the halls making goat sounds (baaah) and flashing 八 to their classmates…so odd).

But my favorite is the 十, which looks exactly like the character and has led to many confused western responses. Note, if you are a westerner visiting China with very little experience in the language or culture, you’re first encounter may be can slightly traumatic. When a relative came to visit with no Chinese language experience, she was shocked to find cabbies, vendors, even subway officials were “hissing” (the shi sound with 2 tone inflection) and flashing the sign of the Cross as if to “ward her away like a vampire”. She wanted to know if she was offending anyone or doing something wrong. I explained that they were just trying to tell you how much the ride, fare, and price were, not trying to scare her away. Funny how a simple hand signal can mean a world of difference.