How It Feels to Learn Chinese
When people ask me why I study Chinese, I tell them my primary motivation is internal. Learning this language brings me joy like nothing else. Here's a small example of what I mean.
Flight home from Denver. Listening to Write of Passage alum Camellia Yang's "Chiwi Journal" podcast. The episode covers a topic I'm familiar with (mental models). I understand 70-80% of what's being said. In certain sections, my understanding jumps up to a thrilling 95 or 100%.
Fourteen minutes in, Camellia's guest starts to explain the idea of "First Principles Thinking." I understand him as he defines the concept.
It's worth mentioning – I've reached the point where, while listening to two natives speakers, I can distinguish every word I hear. This wasn't true a few years ago. As a mid-level language learner, full-speed native conversation sounded like a blurry slur of non-distinct sound, broken up by a smattering of familiar words and phrases. Now the opposite is true – while listening to this episode, I know the meaning of well over half of the words. For words I don't know, I can still hear what they are phonetically. I could write the "pinyin" version (the phonetic equivalent – think ni hao) for all the words in this 45 minute episode.
Distinguishing words is one thing. Knowing what they mean is another. This is my top limiting factor right now – for plenty of words, I simply don't know their meaning. I can carry a conversation for hours with no trouble. And yet, every day I'm humbled by the sheer volume of words I still don't know yet.
Back to the podcast. Camellia's guest starts to riff on an example of first principles thinking in action. I don't recognize a few words, so I'm not sure what example he's describing. I listen on. As he wraps up a sentence, I a crisp two-word phrase enters my ears: xingcheng jielun. "Shing | Cheng | Jay | Loon" is a direct translation of the sounds. These words sound familiar, but I don't know their meaning. I take a quick pause and jump over to my trusty Pleco dictionary app. Xingcheng means to "form" or "take shape". Jielun means "conclusion". Just like that, I've learned a brand-new phrase: xingcheng jielun means "to form a conclusion".
But the fun doesn't stop there. Each definition contains a slew of examples phrases beneath it. While looking up xingcheng, I see the phrase xingcheng xianming de duizhao: "to form a sharp contrast". Boom, there's two more new words: xianming means sharp, and duizhao means contrast.
Let's go even further: duizhao will be an easy word to remember, because it's made up of two building blocks of words I already know. Duibi means "comparison", zhaopian is a Chinese 101 word that means photograph. Duibi + zhaopian (comparison + picture) = Duizhao (contrast). Learning this newfound word is like discovering two old lego bricks fit perfectly together to form a beautiful new shape you'd never considered.
And don't forget xianming. Xian comes from xinxian, which means "fresh". Ming comes from shuoming, which roughly means "to illustrate". Xinxian + shuoming (fresh + illustration) = xianming (sharp).
Last one: while looking at xianming, I see the phrase goucheng xianming de duibi. I already know duibi means "comparison". I just learned that means xianming means "sharp". But I've now learned that goucheng is another way to say "to form". I already know two similar words: jigou means structure, chengwei is "to become". Therefore, jigou + chengwei (structure + become) = goucheng (to form).
For those keeping score at home, I've now learned:
Xingcheng (to form)
Jielun (conclustion)
Duizhao (contrast)
Xianming (sharp)
Goucheng (to form)
All in a matter of about two minutes!
I find immense joy in piecing these words together. But I'm not just having fun in the moment. Learning these words has transformed my time into a renewable resource
By listening to Chinese in seat 9D of this bumpy Delta flight, I've converted two minutes of my life into five small gems (xingcheng, jielun, duizhao, xianming, goucheng). Assuming good health and fortune, I'll speak Chinese for at least the next five decades. These five words are five gifts that I'll give myself in countless conversations, thousands of times, for the next fifty or sixty years.
Learning Chinese is an infinite game that gets better and better, forever.