Posts stuck in draft form

I am way to busy to complete anything anytime soon.  Here is a list of some posts I’ve started; I may or may not actually publish them.  Let me know if you have any requests.

• Monolingual problems – the weird assumptions that monolingual people make about language.  
• Why the Asian kids sit together
• My Billionaire Goals
• Language Learning:  How to Hit It Hard
• All the Tropical Easiness
• Terrible Language Learner Strategies
• Standardized Testing is a Scam

Two short dialogs

a: Yo… me gusta… la comida… de Mexican.
b: Mexican?  Huh.  You think there might be a Spanish word for “Mexican?”
a: Yo me gusta la comida de Meksikan-oh.
b: Meksikan-oh. Did you just say “meksikan-oh?”

______

a: Ella… vive… en… Europe.
b: You know there’s a word in Spanish for “Europe.”
a: Wull, how am I supposed to know? Omg.
b: It’s a European country.
a: Oh right, ella… vive… en… Spain.

Recipe: Chiles rellenos

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First, cut the tops off of four poblano chiles, and pull out the seed pods.  You can rinse them with water if you want.

Then, roast the chiles until the skins are black. I put them directly on top of my stove, right in the flame.  They sizzle and pop.  Turn occasionally to blacken all the way around.  Wrap  the blackened chiles in a clean bandana and then seal them (bandana and all) in a plastic bag… a gallon-sized ziplock freezerbag works just fine.  Seal them up good and then set them aside.

Later… ten minutes later?  Four hours later?  Whatever… take the chiles out, and pull off the blackened skins.  Be careful not to break open the peppers, don’t be too rough with them.  Put a slice of cotija cheese inside each of the peppers.  You can use or queso fresco or queso oaxaqueño or whatever you want.  Dust the stuffed peppers with some flour and set them aside.

Separate three eggs and beat the whites. When you get to stiff peaks, beat the yolks together, and then fold them into your stiff peaks carefully.  The idea is to work fast and gentle, so the eggs stay as fluffy as possible.

Drench the flour-coated, cheese-stuffed poblanos in the fluffy eggs and then drop them gently into some hot oil in your non-stick egg pan.  Brown them on both sides.

Serve with a simple tomato sauce.  Mine is a puree of stewed tomatoes, sweet onions, and a little bit of chicken stock to loosen it up.  Salt, oregano, a little powdered chili…

Cultural Secrets that I Know

Here are some cultural secrets that I know.  Enjoy.

• African Americans who you don’t even know are happy to greet you on the street in Ann Arbor, Michigan, with a “good morning” or a “hello;” Often, but not always, the greeting continues through “how are you doing today?” and “fine thanks, yourself?” A friend pointed it out to me, so then I started doing it. It was wonderful. It worked for me in Washington DC, as well, but not in Madison, Wisconsin. It works only sometimes in Seattle. A friend of mine who lives in Harlem took of a picture of a homemade sign posted on a… mail box?… saying “Black people should greet each other!”
• The asian kids sit together in the lunch room because they like each other. Also, they know that nobody at the table will “yuck” their food out loud. I grew up with the value that people who “yuck” somebody else’s food are themselves garbage.
• Asian folks find it *horrifying* when people put soy sauce on their rice at a restaurant. We say nothing because it’s rude to yuck other people’s food.  UPDATE:  you know soy sauce is not on the table in Asia, right? The exception is sushi, of course, where soy is an important condiment.  But for the rest of Asia including non-sushi Japan, soy sauce is a kitchen ingredient, not a table condiment.  So in North America that little soy bottle appears on your table expressly for the white folks, black folks, and Latinos that… well… they don’t know about/aren’t following an Asian philosophy of rice.  Long story.  
• If you are a served a stack of warm tortillas, Mexicans will take tortillas from the middle, and not the top. They will presume that you are smart enough to do the same.  That top tortilla gets crusty and dry, but it keeps the middle ones steamy hot.
• During the Easter season, people in the Eastern churches greet each other with “He is risen!” and the proper response is “Indeed he is risen!”  The rest of the year, you may use the standard words for “hello.”
• Americans will give you a tour of the whole house when you go to visit them for the first time; when they visit your house, they expect a tour. If you don’t offer one, they will ask you for one.
• Asian people greet their friends with “have you eaten.”  Most of the time it’s a courtesy question; the answer is “yes,” or “don’t worry, I’ll eat later.”
• If there is a pole in the street (telephone pole, utility pole, lamp post) your African American friends might comment if you “split the pole;” i.e., walk on the other side of the pole than they did.  If you ask if they believe in that superstition, they may deny it, but if you’re close to them, they will comment if you do it again.
• In New York City, if you yell “where do I get the F train?” at someone they will tell you, they might even STOP to tell you. If you ask them “Excuse me, I was wondering if you have a moment, I’m from out of town and my trying to find the F train, so if you could possibly…”  If you set up your question with all that, they will have walked away from you after the fifth word.
• In Seattle, if you are pushing your car for some reason, men will appear without a word and help you push.  You’ll be pushing, and the next thing you know, there are men on either side of you.
• There is a square of paper at the bottom of that humbao.  Don’t eat it.

• There is a cupcake liner at the bottom of that big fluffy Hong Kong style sponge cake, in addition to the wax paper.  Don’t eat that either
• In New York, if you sit at the bar, the bartenders will often pour you a drink on the house. This happened to me a couple of times in Spain as well. (UPDATE:  apparently there’s a word for this; it’s called a “buyback.”)
• In Italy, if you bring your wet umbrella into an establishment, they will get annoyed at you and then scatter saw dust all over the tiles to soak up your drips.  In Taiwan, they have huge umbrella racks outside of every business, where you deposit your umbrella and nobody steals it.
• The is very little speaking in a Mexican barber shop.  Silencio.  When I got my hair cut once in Cuernavaca, I was afraid to even ask how much to pay.  I just took out a big bill and let them make change for me.
• French people don’t wait in line at a deli, they just stand patiently in a big mob. When you enter, you ask “who was last?” Once that person has had their turn, you know it’s your turn.
• A Taiwanese friend pointed out to me that where she was studying in northern Florida, nobody ever said “thank you” or “you’re welcome” ever.  Instead, they said “‘preciate it,” and the answer was “no problem.” Another friend tells me that in Argentina, the answer to “gracias” is “por favor….” every time.
• Filipinos use lips and eyebrows to point at stuff in conversation. Chinese people point with their whole arm, palm face up.  Americans will beckon you by reeling you in with their index finger. In Rome, we learned to wave “goodbye” to people by opening and closing a fist, with your palm facing your own face.  YOUR OWN FACE.

UPDATE:  I have a comments section below… but this post got linked over on Unfogged, so the real discussion is over there!

The Rule is that You’re Wrong

When I was studying in Rome, my friends and I rented a car and drove to Cannes, France on the Côte d’Azur. I was the only French speaker, so K was asking me about how to greet people in French.

I had studied in Avignon, and it seemed there were cultural difference in the blue collar south that they hadn’t taught us about in college. FIrst of all, in Avignon there are three cheek kisses, as opposed to the northern custom of two. In Avignon, all of our declarative sentences ended in “quand même,” and I didn’t even know that the rest of the francophone world ended declaratives with “quoi.” Finally, there was a very strict good morning/good evening dichotomy that we had to observe with greetings.

I’ve found that with most of my French speaking friends, “bonjour” is ok to say even if it’s night and the moon and stars are out.  In Avignon, however, while I was studying there, “Bonjour” was good morning, good afternoon, and “bonsoir” was good evening. when you’re saying goodbye at night, you could say “bonne nuit.” This is exactly the same system we were doing in Rome at the time, with “buongiorno, buona sera, buona notte,” a system which was making K crazy. Whenever he would greet somebody, they would correct him with the proper time of day, he wasn’t able to deduce what the rules were.

So we get to France and K asks me, what’s the system in French? What time is the cut off between saying “good day” and “good evening” so we can quit being wrong all the time.

It’s just like Italian, I replied, which caused him to clench his fists; all his anxieties about being corrected every day by everyone started to spill out.

Americans don’t like being corrected all the time. It’s cultural, we’re not a nation of language correctors. Sure, there are occasional grammar mavens, but mostly we do not stop a conversation to repair damaged language. I was telling a Taiwanese friend about this cultural tendency not to correct, especially if the person is ESL.  After a few months in St. Louis, she confirmed it to me; no, Americans don’t care to correct ESL mistakes.  I, personally, sometimes don’t even hear them.

Anyway, I thought about it for a second.  ”The rule is that you’re wrong,” I explained.  If you’re anywhere near the border between “bonjour” and “bonsoir,” whichever you choose will be wrong, and they will correct you.

I was kind of just being facetious.  But then K came back to me the next day and told me that he had tested my hypothesis and confirmed it; he greeted a stranger with “bonjour” as he was passing him in the street.  The man responded with a correction saying “bonsoir…” and then fumbled a bit to correct himself when he realized it was only 10 in the morning.

Present day:  I don’t hear French speakers say “bonsoir” at all anymore, I seem to be hearing “bonjour” at all hours of the day or night.  I don’t know if society has changed, or if it was just a regional thing in the first place.

Or maybe it was a vast conspiracy, now that I’ve figured them out, to ensure that I remain wrong when I’m speaking French; they all got together and decided that me speaking correctly could not be tolerated.

I wouldn’t put it past them.

Tough Day

It was a tough day today. I’m sure it will be better tomorrow.

I went to bed early last night, and I posted on Facebook that I was going to sleep in. Because of a late start and a schedule rotation and a little bit of mercy, my first class this morning didn’t start until 10:45 am.  Sweet right?  Sleep until 8 am!

Unfortunately my allergies and a tummy ache woke me up at 4 am.  I played a game and did some pre-dawn facebooking.  There was an email from a listener who said that my use of “Nahyeli and I” in an objective position grated on his ears.  I had a chuckle and then went back to sleep.  My radio alarm came on at 6 am, and I meant to get up and turn it off… but I ended up drifting in and out of sleep with the radio blaring.  Finally, when it shut itself off at 8 pm, I decided to get out of bed.

I didn’t realize until I went to make breakfast that I was all out of eggs.  Sigh.

My commute was a comedy of red lights; it took about twice as long as usual.

When I got to work finally, I made the coffee (which was delicious) and then tried to get ready for class.  Unfortunately the internet was down all day, so I couldn’t facebook about my study hall.  More importantly the presentation I worked on for two hours was inaccessible, so I didn’t get to ask my students their (subjunctive-laden) opinions on Margaret Thatcher’s passing, on North Korean saber-rattling, or a baby snuggling with three puppies.

The internet was down all day… what a mess.  The teachers actually showed up in the faculty lounge and ate lunch together, it was barbaric.

I had a meeting after school, and then I came down to the cafe.  And the outlet is not working.

Tough day!  Oh well, at least there were no super villains involved, like tough days in the past.  Tomorrow will be way better.

Spring Break 2013 (Part Deux)

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Just a few bullets:

• Left SFO at 10 am. Drove I-5 North to Seattle, arrived at 1:30 am.  
• If you stop at Umsted’s Smokehouse, order anything but the brisket, which was a greasy shredded mess. Horrifying. On a positive note, the fried mushrooms were good.
• We blew through Portland like it was our job.
• Went to the SAM with Aussie C (Miss X-ing), rode on the Great Wheel, ate at the Salmon Cooker, took a stroll through the Market.
• She also saw the EMP and the Chihuly  Fun Forest, and reported enjoying both.
• Had a little dinner party with Don D, ate oysters, cheese, and fruit.
• Saw the Michael Owcharuck Trio at Vito’s.  Jacques Willis and Nate Omdal were sitting in.
• Went to the Ballard Locks.  A seagull totally shat in my hair and on my hoodie, which made me pout.  The men’s room doesn’t have any paper towels, so I had to make do with toilet shields.  They do have sharps disposal containers, interestingly enough.
• There was also Pho Bac, Hing Loon, and Regent Bakery.
• My summer plans are set; I’ve paid my tuition and have found a place to stay.

First Stop in Daly City

Mork Calling Orson

Archery and Black Cat

Cherry Blossoms on 36th Ave S. With Aussie C

Some Bodega in North Beach

Great Wheel Graphics

Western Ave Poster

Aussie C (Miss X-ing) in the Tunnel

A China Daily box on Upper Queen Anne?

China Daily Box from Caffe Fiore

Bonus image:  Magnetic putty “eating” a rare earth metal.

bonus image: magnetic putty vs. rare earth metal

San Francisco Adventure 2013

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I took an evening flight to SFO on Virgin America, which is working hard to be the cool airline. When I landed around 9:20, I took the BART to Colma Station, where cowsin C picked me up. I was hungry, so he took me to In-n-Out, where I had a double double animal style. I ordered it from memory, not really sure what it means. I was surprised that the place was packed. We hung out for an hour or so, just talking; cowsin to cowsin.

The next day was Easter Sunday. We men lit a bbq, while Auntie R started cooking. There was BBQ chicken, pork ribs, pot roast, and a pansit. Later cowsins F and D showed up with nephew E. That little boy loves eating with lola, and he loves him some coconut juice.

J and I had coffee at Java Beach in the Sunset, and he taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow at the archery field in Golden Gate Park.

I BARTed into town to meet Aussie C that evening; we ended up at a Thai restaurant and just caught up for a while.

This morning, Auntie R made some longsilog. Then I BARTed in again to spend the day with Aussie C, who I might start calling “Ms. X-ing.” We met at the Little Griddle on Market and Fell. Later we bused up Market and then walked to Chinatown. We kept walking through North Beach hand some coffee and a pastry, and walked to Lombard Street to ponder some crookedness. We made it all the way down to almost Fisherman’s Wharf before we decided to turn back and have lunch at the Stinking Rose, an Italian restaurant that serves bread with chimichurri. We had gnochetti and fettuccine.

After that we walked back down the Corso Cristoforo Colombo all the way to Ghirardelli square, and when that was all sorted, we sat at the beach with the stadium seats for a while, watching the bulldozers, the fog, and the dog chasing the birds. Then there was a short walk to Pier 39, for a Coke Zero. It was there that we worked out that we wouldn’t be able to meet Mr. C.

We took the 47 bus down Van Ness to Sutter, and then walked to the cathedral, which was LOCKED. The PRC Consulate next door was also shut. Then we walked around Japan town and settled on some sushi at Kappo, which was fine in all respects except for some reason the one roll we ordered was sliced all unevenly, with fat pieces and skinny pieces. Embarrassing.

We walked back down to Market and then I BARTed back to Daly City early; big drive tomorrow, gotta be rested.

I’m certainly learning a lot of new Aussie terms; I should be writing them down. I’ll start tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spanish Class Tournament Brackets

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People love tournaments.  They love making predictions, they love explaining their comparisons, and regardless of how successful they are, they love to follow along and react.

You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you… that tournament brackets are perfect for a language class.  So I made one; it’s animated.  Click here for all the thrills, including the final solution.

The bracket shown above is not the basketball tournament; it’s a tournament for who is my favorite singer.  I could have chosen vocabulary words, but I chose celebrities instead.

There will be predictions; description, comparisons of inequality, maybe even narrations in the present past.  Students will have to reconcile their own opinions with what they know of my opinions.  There will be conjecture and hypotheticals, so they will have to use all kinds of future, conditional, and subjunctive tenses.

There will be reactions; expressions of victory and loss, disgust and incredulity at upsets and defeats.  Also at stake:  the wisdom/stupidity of whoever seeded the brackets.  Subjunctive, subjunctive, subjunctive.

This motif can be repeated ad infinitum; favorite foods, favorite restaurants, favorite colors, who cares.  We can use historical figures or members of the faculty and set them up as a death match… or just as easily, a niceness match; who wouldn’t want to win a niceness championship based on a Spanish class conversation topic?

Who would win the condiment tournament?  Would Mayo finally face off against Miracle Whip?  If there was a cute baby animal tournament, people would learn animal names in a snap.

You could even do numbers; which items, are more expensive on Amazon?  Which cities in Western Washington have the highest murder rate?  Who in this class has the most Twitter followers?  Possibilities are endless.

Language Learning: Recommended Reading

I only read short stories.  When you read for pleasure, you’ll start acquiring vocabulary by the bucket-full.  When I read short stories, it doesn’t matter if I start out by looking up almost every word, because I CAN SEE THE END.  I know that when I get to the end, there will be some kind of resolution or realization… unlike news articles, which lead with all the important information and then piddle out into specifics, speculation, and man-on-the-street reactions.  I do read novels occasionally, but if I don’t get some action or resolution within a few pages, I lose interest, and reading becomes a chore.  With short stories, you can read and finish and feel that sense of accomplishment before that feeling of “this is a chore” sets in.  

Here are the short stories I read, when I was studying these langauges:

• In French I read short stories by Guy de Maupassant, and Alphonse Daudet… and more recently, Le Petit Nicolas.  These are all very charming.  I think I read Pagnol’s full-length novel Jean de Florette to see if I could, but getting through it seemed like a chore and it didn’t stick with me much.  French teachers always want to you to read articles about unrest in the Parisian suburbs; which, while a very important and worthwhile topic, turns me off to reading in French.  And to the French language.  And to France, and French people in general.  I’ll stick with Lettres de Mon Moulin for now, thank you.
  
• In Italian, I read Racconti Popolari Italiani, which is basically a lot of folk tales, many involve wish-granting talking fish. I remember reading that while in Rome, and then for the two weeks I had back home before moving to Ann Arbor for graduate school.  After that, Spanish became my dominant language and I didn’t have much time for Italian… I do miss it.  
• In Spanish, I read microcuentos, micro-short-stories.  These are amazing, because Latin American writers (Denevi, Benedetti, Rulfo, Borges, Cortazar, García Márquez… they all took microcuentos as seriously as novels, so they pack a real literary punch.  Here, just get the anthology.  Or this anthology.  Or this anthology.
• In Chinese, I’m reading some graded readers:  Tales and Traditions, Chinese Breeze, and a few short stories collections we found in a bookstore in Taipei. I’m not sure what happens when my reading level advances past intermediate; I hope I can find more to read on my kindle.  

Yes, I consume other forms of written media, but short stories are the best, and the shorter the better, for my attention span.  I do watch videos in the target language, feature-length and youtube shorts, and yes, I do occasionally enjoy popular music.  But short stories are the way to go.  At first it seems like you’re looking up every word, but keep at it and before you know it, you’ll be skipping the dictionary.

 One thing:  people who don’t have experience (or don’t remember) learning a second language are always telling me, JUST READ CHILDREN’S BOOKS,  as if they didn’t totally just make that up, as if they knew what they were talking about.  As if there were people in the world who’s grammar, vocabulary, and interest level were somehow served by Clifford el gran perro colorado.  

Here’s my advice:  read for pleasure, and you will become literate.  If that means Bonsoir Lune, then by all means.  But if you’re interested in reading something where the author was trying to entertain and engage adults, then you have my recommendations above.