I have always been a firm believer that language is key to understanding a culture. So upon arrival I began Mandarin lessons hoping to gain a bit of insight into Singapore life and its residents (75% of which are Chinese–Singaporean).Admittedly, I was a bit nervous about tackling Mandarin
; my
entire life I've heard how difficult it is to pick up this tonal language. So it came as a surprise that my first 5 weeks went smoothly, differentiating and mastering the tones without too much difficulty. But as I started my second 5-week course, I began to slip up. Words I thought I knew popped up with new meanings. As I came to find out, Chinese is difficult not because of the tones (there are only 4 and are fairly easy to hear). Rather, the sheer number of homophones in the Chinese lexicon makes learning this language a monumental task. It would be like the English word "tree" meaning one thing by itself, but with about 20 other possibilities in context.
I relayed my Chinese woes to my friend Angie, a Chinese–Singaporean who has mastered both English and Chinese, and she gave me some valuable advice: look at the whole and listen to it in relation to the other words. How right she was...I needed to think more holistically.
Although learning "Western" languages also requires a holistic approach (so you know who is doing what to whom for how many cookies), in Chinese you must look at the whole to determine "who" is and the "what" that they are doing. And of course each individual word on its own and in combination with other characters means something different. Imagine speaking completely in English compounds words and idiomatic phrases, and that's what speaking Chinese is like.
But this holistic approach is not just limited to the Chinese language; it finds counterparts in Chinese–Singaporean culture, too. Take the concept of feng shui (literally meaning wind–water) as an example. The basis of this centuries-old philosophy requires people and things to be in balance with their environment. And it is still observed with respect in Singapore today. In fact, on the advice of several feng shui masters, the direction of the city's newly built ferris wheel was reversed; apparently the original direction of function sent good energy away from Singapore. Even the way people move about the city reflects a certain submission to this holistic relationship, moving osmotically as the environment directs rather than pushing through crowds and running to catch trains.
Though the "whole" picture is often quoted as important in Western culture, it seems a necessity, priority, and way of life here in Singapore.
; myentire life I've heard how difficult it is to pick up this tonal language. So it came as a surprise that my first 5 weeks went smoothly, differentiating and mastering the tones without too much difficulty. But as I started my second 5-week course, I began to slip up. Words I thought I knew popped up with new meanings. As I came to find out, Chinese is difficult not because of the tones (there are only 4 and are fairly easy to hear). Rather, the sheer number of homophones in the Chinese lexicon makes learning this language a monumental task. It would be like the English word "tree" meaning one thing by itself, but with about 20 other possibilities in context.
I relayed my Chinese woes to my friend Angie, a Chinese–Singaporean who has mastered both English and Chinese, and she gave me some valuable advice: look at the whole and listen to it in relation to the other words. How right she was...I needed to think more holistically.
Although learning "Western" languages also requires a holistic approach (so you know who is doing what to whom for how many cookies), in Chinese you must look at the whole to determine "who" is and the "what" that they are doing. And of course each individual word on its own and in combination with other characters means something different. Imagine speaking completely in English compounds words and idiomatic phrases, and that's what speaking Chinese is like.
But this holistic approach is not just limited to the Chinese language; it finds counterparts in Chinese–Singaporean culture, too. Take the concept of feng shui (literally meaning wind–water) as an example. The basis of this centuries-old philosophy requires people and things to be in balance with their environment. And it is still observed with respect in Singapore today. In fact, on the advice of several feng shui masters, the direction of the city's newly built ferris wheel was reversed; apparently the original direction of function sent good energy away from Singapore. Even the way people move about the city reflects a certain submission to this holistic relationship, moving osmotically as the environment directs rather than pushing through crowds and running to catch trains.
Though the "whole" picture is often quoted as important in Western culture, it seems a necessity, priority, and way of life here in Singapore.
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