Languages deciphering the message. | Photo by Christian Rowlands, Flickr

Ní hǎo mā? I fumbled over the basic greeting in Mandarin for the third time. I was in a coffee shop on Hornby Street with a young Taiwanese woman named Jian. She was teaching me basic Mandarin in exchange for English-speaking practice. Even at her high level, she felt the same nervousness and confusion I felt. Undeterred, I repeated what Jian had taught me “Ní hǎo mā?” meaning “How are you?” in English.

Learning a foreign language depends on one thing above all: frequency. How often you speak, hear, read and write something determines how well you can understand and use it. I saw a Chinese couple at the coffee shop looking at me and giggling. I persevered, “Ní hǎo mā?”

I grew up speaking only English but now have a job where I need to deal with many international clients, so I thought that knowing some Chinese might benefit me. Through a language exchange website, I found Jian. A week later, I was learning my first words of Mandarin.

In my first lesson, I learned how to ask someone’s name as well as give my own. I also learned to say “hello” and “goodbye.” Admittedly, it was a little disheartening to find out that the Taiwanese simply say “hi” and “bye-bye.” It did not sound very Chinese and seemed lazy. At my insistence, Jian taught me something a bit more formal and less English-sounding.

I made notes in my notebook, writing words down in the English alphabet as well as in the Chinese phonetic script. Learning complex Chinese characters would have to wait until I could speak more. I have always believed that a language is a tool for communication, not something to be memorized. I endured five unenlightening years of the Vancouver School Board’s French classes and developed a distaste for book-learning a language. I still remember my first failed attempt at French communication during a visit to Québec immediately after finishing high school. I had been an A student, but I could not even complete a transaction in a doughnut shop without resorting to English.

A few weeks and a few lessons later, I was at my grocery store picking up food for the week. Once I had established that the lady at the cash register was indeed from mainland China, I knew it was time to practise.

“Nǐ jiaò shé mo míng ze?” I asked her name, feeling pleased with my effort.

The grocer looked at me confused for a moment, slowly trying to piece together what I was saying. My pronunciation must have been way off. Doubt crept in. I can only imagine what it sounded like to her. My cheeks started to feel warm as I hoped she would understand me. In Mandarin, the slightest miscalculation in tone and your mother (mā) suddenly transforms into a horse (mǎ) or hemp (má).

But she understood. We had a short exchange before I switched back to English. It ended much like my early experiences in Québec, but this time I felt a sense of accomplishment rather than embarrassment.

Today, we have all the resources needed to immerse ourselves in another language; classrooms are no longer the sole place of learning. Radio, tv and film are all readily available online. But most importantly, there are people. It does not take much to pick up a few words at a time, talk to someone and ask them how their horse is doing. I mean how their hemp is doing. No, mother. Ask them how their mother is doing.