What's in a Name?

After being here for nearly a month, I finally registered with the cops. Not that I actually did it, someone in the office did it for me. But just the same, I’m now official and didn’t get in any trouble for violating the law that says I need to register within 24 hours of arriving.
Things took a while because for one, my passport was in Shanghai, getting upgraded to a 90-day visa (Soon to be followed by a 1 year card.) When I was accepted for the job, Harry told me to just get a tourist visa and he’d take care of the rest. China appears to welcome Western workers. I think the government gets a good return from us.
Another reason things took so long was because I was waiting for a Chinese name. Many of my Chinese students have English names (Doris, Lizzie, Susan) so it seemed appropriate that I get a Chinese name. I asked Amy, one of my best students, to help. The idea is that it should sound similar to my surname. Not that Mie Jia Sheng really does, but that is okay because I also got a first name that I like a lot. It’s Hwa Zhe which translates to “A philosopher in China.” Armed with that, I satisfied the cops and now can get on with the business of getting a business card.
I like the philosophy angle because people who know of my yoga classes are familiar with my propensity to sprinkle them with bits of yoga philosophy. That’s been a bit challenging with my language barrier, so I’ve pursued a couple options. In one case, I say it just in case some of my students get it and if nothing else, to repeat it to myself. Amy obviously picked up on that. The other option is to ask that same student to translate. Often, that student is Amy, a woman who shows for at least one class a day.
I’ve taken to carrying a notebook into class so I can try saying stuff in Chinese. Phrases like ‘feet together,’ ‘turn around’ and ‘downward facing dog’ get used all the time so I may as well learn them. Of course, I mangle the tones, but the students seem forgiving enough. As a trade, I’ve promised to teach a whole class in Chinese by the end of my 1-year contract.
It’s been a bit of a chase to find a language school to attend. When I lived in Paris, it was easy to attend the Alliance Française. Here I asked around and came up dry. Then I looked in the Expat magazine and found a brand new school that was just opening. Now, three English teachers and I meet with our laoshi twice a week and attempt to become functional. There are some subtle sounds in Chinese and some of the tones are really hard to distinguish, but just a week into it I’m learning a few basics.
In that respect, coming to Hangzhou was a good choice, since so few people speak English. Sean tells me that in Shanghai, expats can get by learning little more than taxi directions. He’s impressed by the learning that both Ian and I have accomplished. And Ian, for his part, isn’t even taking class. He’s picking it up from the TV, from two phrasebooks, from the office staff and an occasional foray with my computer. Better yet, he’s studying and writing characters and that puts him a big step ahead of me.
For Sean, who has been here for the better part of four years, restaurant workers are still surprised when he can’t read the menu. “What?” they say, “You can speak but can’t read?” Seems reasonable. Even so, Sean’s been working on that as well.
It’s really kind of imperative to learn the language, Not just to do business, but to teach well. While perhaps half the students in Shanghai understand English, we’re lucky to get 10 percent. All the teachers here are trying to at least meet people half way. Zaijian!

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