棋子  (song)

Chinese singer Faye Wang has a song entitled “棋子 (qi2 zi3),” Chess, where she compares herself to a chess, who is stuck and manipulated by something stronger than herself, be it a lover or fate or God.

象棋 (xiang4 qi2), or Chinese Chess, is a strategy board game for two players. 象means elephant; 棋, chess. Why elephant? I really don’t know. (Some people express their ideas about this online but I’d rather skip the part I’m not sure.) The chess board looks like this:

 

Chess of different color, red and blue (or black), represent the two sides of the game, each of the chess with a name slightly different from their counterparts. For example, the “king” of the red chess is named 帥 (shuai4); while 將 (jiang4) for the blue. Both mean general, the highest ranking commander in the army. (But帥哥(shuai4 ge) refers to handsome guy.)  The two sides confronts with each other with a border zone 楚河(chu3 he2)、漢界(han4 jie4) between them. The side that captures the king of the other side wins. That’s why we often use楚河漢界to refer to the boundary.

The lowest rank of the chess are 兵(bing) for the red side or 卒(zu2), the blue side. They both mean soldiers. We often use 無名小卒 (wu2 ming2 xiao3 zhu2) to refer to small potatoes, or nobody. In this song, it uses 不起眼的小兵 (bu4 qi3 yian3 de xiao3 bing) to mean the same. (In your eyes I’m not the unique general but an obscure soldier.)

In Xiangqi’s rule, 兵 and 卒can only move forwards, not backwards. Once they cross the borderline楚河漢界, they can move both forwards and aside, but still not backwards. That’s why when we are a condition that allows us only to go forwards and there’s no backing down, we’ll use過河卒子(guo4 he2 zu2 zi3) to describe ourselves. We’ll say “Now I’m a 過河卒子and all I can do is go forwards without looking back.”

Another example of such a “chess expression” is飛象過河 (fei xiang4 guo4 he2), referring to those rule breakers who cross the line. Because when playing Xiangqi, 象 of the blue side or 相of the red side, can’t cross 楚河漢界. So if an “elephant” flies across the river, he’s breaking the rule.

There are not only rules for the player, but also rules for the watchers. Sometimes it’s hard for some people to keep quiet and let the players play the game on their own. They just can’t help expressing their opinions and interrupting the game. So for the watchers, we say 觀棋不語真君子(guan qi2 bu4 yu3 zhen jun zi3), when watching a game, those who are silent are really gentlemen. Here 君子means gentleman.

What follows it is 起手無回大丈夫(qi3 shou3 wu2 hui2 da4 zhang4 fu), those who won’t change their moves once done are real men. This is a regulation for the players. For some hesitant players, they might sometimes regret their moves and would like to move back and do it again, which is considered improper and despicable. In Wong’s song, she uses 舉手無回 (ju3 shou3 wu2 hui2). It’s the same idea.

Not every Chinese play Xiangqi, but they do use these related expressions in their lives.

Here you can hear the song with lyrics.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7Ip9Xle_So

楚河漢界=楚河汉界

無名小卒=无名小卒

過河卒子=过河卒子

飛象過河=飞象过河

觀棋不語真君子=观棋不语真君子

起手無回大丈夫=起手无回大丈夫

舉手無回=举手无回

撿屍 (up-to-date term)

The other day I read a piece of news where a teenage girl accused a man of taking her home in the way of 撿屍(jian3 shi) and raped her.

撿屍, literally meaning “picking up the body,” is a term coined recently from night clubs. In the early morning outside the night club, you might see some girls badly wasted lying motionlessly on the ground like dead bodies. Horny men come to them, pick them up, take them somewhere and have sex with them.

We do have a term 屍姦 (shi jian) for raping a body. Well, since a body won’t be able to express her will, it is considered a rape. That’s why we use the word姦 , meaning rape as in 強姦(qiang2 jian) ,or adultery as in 通姦 (tong jian).

It reminds me of an occupation in Taiwan called撿骨(jian3 gu3), picking up the bones. In Taiwanese custom, those who are buried underground will be dug out of the earth several years later, their bones washed, rearranged into a jar and buried again (except for those who pass away younger than sixteen.) Such a job is carefully done by professionals called撿骨師 (jian3 gu3 shi) with complicated procedure.

Well, for those who don’t want to be treated like a body but want to have fun at night clubs, maybe they should pick up their designated driver指定駕駛 (zhi3 ding4 jia4 shi3) before they start to party.  

撿屍=捡尸

屍姦=尸奸

撿骨師=捡骨师

指定駕駛=指定驾驶

Moon River  (Chop Suey)

I learned from the paper Andy William’s death. Immediately his song “Moon River” came to my mind and so did his voice.

It’s Mid-Autumn Festival 中秋節(zhong qiu jie2) today. For the Chinese people, it’s a day of the moon and the family; for today’s Taiwanese, barbeque too.

There’s too much to talk about as far as the moon is concerned—stories, customs, poetry, songs. One of the most often told story is the beautiful resident of the moon 嫦娥(chang2 er2) , who flew to the moon after taking her husband’s 仙藥(xian yao4), magic drug of immortality.

Along with her on the moon is the rabbit 玉兔(yu4 tu4), who keeps pounding medicine to make仙藥. And a man 吳剛 (wu2 gang), who keeps felling a cinnamon tree that will never fall, much like Sisyphus rolling up the stone.

Taiwanese of my generation were told as kids that we shouldn’t point at the moon. If you do so, one of your ears will be cut. Back then threatens of this kind from parents or grandparents were common for a certain educational purpose. (If you don’t finish the rice in your bowl, you’ll marry a freckled faced husband/wife.) For this one, many people interpret it as a teaching to treat nature with awe and respect.

Previously I’ve mentioned poet 李白Li Bai’s moon-related poetry several times. (See “低頭族” & “Raise your glass.”) Legend has it that the poet himself died from drowning himself when trying to scoop up the moon from the river on a boat. This story is called 李白撈月, Li Bai scooting up the moon. The legend consolidates Li’s relationship with the moon even more aside from his numerous well-written lines on her.

With so many poems chanted on her, you’ll find dozens of colorful names for the moon, some of which very poetic and beautiful. For example, 冰鏡(bing jing4)，ice mirror; 白玉盤(bai2 yu4 pan2), white jade plate; 銀盤(yin2 pan2), silver plate; 嬋娟(chan2 juan), beauty. . . .

My favorite lines on the moon are mostly form Li Bai. But that’s not what I’m gonna focus now, for I’d rather talk about it later than make this one too long. I’d like to wrap up my writing here with a well-know song by Faye Wong 王菲, whose lyrics is in fact a poem 水調歌頭(shui3 diao4 ge tou2) by 蘇軾(su shi4).

The last stanza of the song is as follows: (adopted from Wikipedia)

人有悲歡離合  People may have sorrow or joy, be near or far apart.

(ren2 you3 bai huan li2 he2)
月有陰晴圓缺  The moon may be dim or bright, wax or wan.

 (yue4 you3 yin qing2 yuan2 que)
此事古難全    This imperfection has been going on since the beginning of time.

(ci3 shi4 gu3 nan2 quan2)
但願人長久    May we be all blessed with longevity.

(dan4 yuan4 ren2 chang2 jiu3)
千里共嬋娟    Though thousand miles apart, we are still able to share the beauty of

(qian li3 gong4 chan2 juan)        the moon together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIdDASnirbY

中秋節=中秋节

仙藥=仙药

吳剛=吴刚

低頭族=低头族

李白撈月=李白捞月

冰鏡=冰镜

白玉盤=白玉盘

銀盤=银盘

嬋娟=婵娟

水調歌頭=水调歌头

蘇軾=苏轼

人有悲歡離合=人有悲欢离合

月有陰晴圓缺=月有阴晴圆缺

此事古難全=此事古难全

但願人長久=但愿人长久

千里共嬋娟=千里共婵娟

Rip Van Winkle vs 南柯一夢 (Idiom)

In a short story published in 1819, the author Washington Irving created the literary figure Rip Van Winkle. To escape his wife’s nagging, the somewhat idle and hermitic man wandered upon the mountain with his dog. After drinking liquor with a group of men he met there, he fell asleep.

The man woke up as any other humans would, except it was 20 years later. Everything had changed: American Revolution taken place, his wife gone. . . .

The story is known as “李伯大夢(li3 bo2 da4 meng4)” in the Chinese world. 夢 refers to a dream. What Rip had is not a small dream but a “big” one. This “big dream” is often compared with the Chinese legendaries南柯一夢(nan2 ke yi2 meng4) or 黃粱一夢 (huang2 liang2 yi2 meng4)

A man named fell asleep under a big tree in his yard on his birthday after drinking with his family and friends. In his dream, he went through a series of successes such as topping at the Imperial Exam, married the princess, assigned as governor of 南柯county and gained the favor of the emperor.

Three decades passed and the man turned a father of 7 kids with fame and wealth and people loved him. Things began to turn against him, however, as the dream went on. He was dispatched by the emperor to fight a war and he lost it. He was discharged from his post and ended up an ordinary civilian with nothing.

Screaming and yelling the man woke up to find what he had gone through was only a dream.

This man was not alone in the Chinese history to have such a dream. A man surnamed Lu had a similar story to tell. On his way to the Imperial Exam, he met a Daoist priest at an inn, who gave him a pillow and claimed that it would guarantee a “sweet dream.”

Lu went to bed with the pillow when the inn keeper started to cook a crop called黃粱.

Like magic, Lu had a wonderful voyage of life similar to the dream mentioned above. He ended up a man of power and money with a beautiful wife and a big family, who enjoyed a long longevity of 80.

When Lu woke up from this sweet dream, the crop was not even done.

“Is it only a dream?” asked the puzzled dreamer.

“Isn’t life so?” replied the Daoist priest.

The great author 蘇軾(su shi4) also has a beautiful line on this dreamy life thing:

人生如夢，一尊還酹江月

(ren2 sheng ru2 meng4, yi4 zuan huan2 lei4 jiang yue4)

 Life is a dream. Why don’t we make a libation to the moon on the river?

南柯一夢=南柯一梦

蘇軾=苏轼

人生如夢，一尊還酹江月=人生如梦，一尊还酹江月

方便 (Joke)

Some Chinese expressions have so multiple meanings that they cause a lot of misunderstanding. Here is an example:

A foreigner who has learned a little Chinese comes to Taiwan for the first time. He’s invited to a restaurant by some Taiwanese friends.

After led to their table, a Taiwanese friend says, (1)“Sorry, but I have to方便 (fang bian4)” and then left. Another Taiwanese friend explains to the foreigner that方便 means “going to the bathroom.”

During the meal, one of the Taiwanese friends says to the foreigner, (2)“I hope next time when I go to your country, you can offer me some方便. ” The latter wonders, “Why do I have to offer him bathroom?”。”

The folks eat and talk until the closing time. A waiter comes to the table and says, (3)“Sorry, but it’s our closing time. Would you please check the bill if it’s方便 for you?” The Taiwanese goes to the bathroom before he pays the bill. The foreigner wonders if it’s a special custom in Taiwan to go to the bathroom before checking the bill.

Before they leave, one of the Taiwanese says to the foreigner,(4) “I’d also like to treat you to dinner when we both 方便.” The foreigner’s puzzled why they keep talking about going to the bathroom when inviting him to eat?

Besides being a euphemism for “going to the bathroom,” 方便mainly means convenient. That’s why we have to use it when inviting someone. For example, in English you might say “Is it convenient for you to come tomorrow?” In Chinese it would be “明天你方便來嗎？” (ming2 tian ni3 fang bian4 lai2 ma?)

In the second sentence, 方便 means favor, help. So the Taiwanese is asking for a potential favor from the foreigner. Such favors are often business ones, especially from the authority. For example, when passing the Customs, some celebrities or high ranking government officials might be allowed special entrance to give them privacy. This is a方便offered to them.

In China, 方便麵 (fang bian4 mian4) refers to instant noodles while in Taiwan we call them 泡麵 (pao4 mian4).

I’d also like mention one thing about inviting someone for dinner. It’s Chinese way to be modest and keep a low profile. As a result, when inviting someone to a meal, we often call the meal 便飯, which means a simple, usual meal, nothing fancy or luxurious.

So, next time, when you’re asked when it is方便 for you for a便飯, it has nothing to do with your nature call. And very unlikely it will turn out to be a simple potluck!  

明天你方便來嗎=明天你方便来吗

方便麵=方便面

便飯=便饭

我本將心託明月 (chop suey)

Recently I’ve read a book by George Kao, where he talks about how he has started to translate the American novel “The Great Gatsby.” He mentions that 林以亮 (lin2 yi3 liang4) has once used the poetic line “我本將心託明月(wuo3 ben3 jiang xin tuo ming2 yue4)，誰知明月照溝渠 (shei2 zhi ming2 yue4 zhao4 gou qu2 ” as a conclusion to the theme of this novel.

Literally the line means “I meant to trust my heart to the moon, only to find her shining on the ditches.” When you treat someone with unreserved trust and sincerity but end up being treated relentlessly, this is a line you can use to show your disappointment and regret.

We can say that all Gatsby has done in his life is spurred by his obsession with Daisy, an attractive but shallow woman who once was in a romantic relationship with him. He goes from rags to riches as a bootlegger, moves to Daisy’s neighborhood and throws lavish parties in the hope that she will come. In the end he even gives away his life playing a scapegoat for her.

Gatsby’s life is built on an illusion that is created by his clinging to the past and his obsession with Daisy. He sacrifices his life for this nostalgic complex, but Daisy, the very center of this illusion, doesn’t even show up at his funeral. (As a matter of fact, few people do.)

To me, this is a novel about disillusion. Somehow more or less we have to experience such a disillusion in our own life. We create lots of beautiful bubbles and eventfully have to watch them broken, no matter how they have once made this world amazingly colorful. When people feel they’re taken for granted or mistreated like Gatsby, they may look up, take a sigh and utter the line, 我本將心託明月，誰知明月照溝渠!

我本將心託明月，誰知明月照溝渠

=我本将心托明月，谁知明月照沟渠

大不一樣 (Joke)

Here’s a joke to show you how the same Chinese characters can give very different meanings only by changing the order they are put.

A woman asks her doctor: “I’d like to have a boob job, but what  difference will it make?”

“Well,” the doctor replies with composure, “There’re five possibilities:

1. 大不一樣 (da4 bu4 yi2 yang4)
2. 不大一樣 (bu2 da4 yi2 yang4)
3. 不一樣大 (bu4 yi2 yang4 da4)
4. 一樣不大 (yi2 yang4 bu2 da4)
5 樣大不一 (yang da4 bu4 yi)

All the five expressions are made up of the same four words with different orders and different meanings accordingly, except for 3, and 5, which have very similar meanings. Also, have you noticed that 不 is not  always pronounced with the same tone?

一樣means the same, which makes 不一樣 “not the same,” “different” because 不means “not.”

1. 大不一樣: Hugely different.大means big, huge, very much.

2. 不大一樣: Not exactly the same. Somewhat different.

3. 不一樣大: Not of the same size. (Oh, my!)

4. 一樣不大: The surgery doesn’t make any difference. They’re still of the same size—no big.  (Sue the doctor!)

5 樣大不一: Not of the same size.

大不一樣=大不一样

Packed like sardines (idiom)

Recently I went on a trip to Hong Kong. It was a short trip of only three days, as what we often call, 走馬看花 (zou3 ma3 kan4 hua), to look at flowers while riding on the horseback. What I got was only passing glances and superficial impressions.

Like any other big cities in the world, there’re big crowds of people on the downtown streets. Moving in the city is like moving in a stream of people. On the overpass, in the subway, on the way to the ferryboat, you’re always moving among people walking in two directions, most of which without much expressions and many of which with their earphones on. No wonder in Chinese we’ll use a lot of water-related idioms to describe what it is like with crowds of people or vehicles moving around, such as 川流不息(chuan liu2 bu4 xi2), and 水洩不通 (shui3 xie4 bu4 tong), where 川is  river whereas水, water.

Another expression for such jostling each other in a crowd would be 摩肩接踵(mo2 jian jie zhong3), literally meaning touching (摩, 接) each other’s shoulders肩and heels踵.

One morning when moving among the stream, however, a poem I read in college, some twenty years ago, flashed into my mind. It’s Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro” in 1911:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

The textbook I read said this poem was a mimic of Japanese haiku, which is actually very Chinese. With those faces approaching, I imagined countless petals blossoming in front of mine.

I used to think Taiwan was a crowded place but when I saw those clusters of uprising buildings in Hong Kong, I realized how “big” Taichung, the city I’m living in, is comparatively. Closely they are standing very neatly to each other like fish scales or teeth of a comb. That’s what 鱗次櫛比(lin2 ci4 jie2 bi3) means. Spiderman will be thrilled swinging among them, I think. Perfect playground for him.

While watching the old buildings on the hill, I couldn’t help recalling those characters living in the stories told by Eileen Chang. Yes, this is a city where people are packed like sardines. Perhaps that’s why 范柳原(fan4 lie3 yuan2) and 白流蘇(bai2 lie2 su) could manage to meet each other in “Love in a Falling City.” And as a tram passed by the bus I was on, I seemed to be hearing the jingling sounds that make the background of so many of her stories. I began to realize that I love Hong Kong for the sake of Eileen Chang, not for anything else.

走馬看花=走马看花

水洩不通=水泄不通

鱗次櫛比=鳞次栉比

白流蘇=白流苏

低頭族 (up-to-date-term)

More than one thousand years ago, when the Chinese poet 李白, Li-bai put down one of his most well-known lines, “ 舉頭望明月，低頭思故鄉(ju3 tou2 wang4 ming2 yue4, di tou2 si gu4 xiang,”  “I look up at the bright moon, and then lower my head thinking about home,” he wouldn’t have foreseen that years later there would be a group of people labeled as “低頭族,” people who lower their heads.

    (from idn-news.com)

Ever since smart phones hit the market, we’ve seen more and more scenes as above: on the bus; in the train; in a restaurant or a coffee shop, where people meet and are supposed to talk or socialize with each other. . . . As a result, a new term was coined for those smartphone addicts--低頭族

Besides its literal meaning, 低頭also means surrender, giving in. Sometimes when people have to compromise, yielding to a stronger power, we’ll probably sigh and say “人在屋簷下，不得不低頭 (ren2 zai4 wu yan2 xia4, bu4 de2 bu4 di tou2), ” you have no other choice but to lower your head under eaves.

A more literary expression for 低頭 is 俯首(fu3 shou3). When confronted with hard evidence, a crime suspect insisting on his innocence may lower his head and confess. The act is called俯首認罪(fu3 shou3 ren4 zui4). Or you might lay down your arms and surrender to someone. In that case, 俯首稱臣(fu3 shou3 cheng chen2) will be proper for the situation.

On the contrary, when people are triumphant and making great strides with their heads up, you can say they’re 昂首闊步(ang2 shou3 kuo4 bu4). But people these days may lower their heads before they stride. Think about those Spanish football fans, what did they do first when their team won the 2012 European Football championship? Probably texted the news to friends or spread it on Facebook!

低頭族=低头族

舉頭望明月，低頭思故鄉=举头望明月，低头思故乡

人在屋簷下，不得不低頭=人在屋檐下，不得不低头

俯首認罪=俯首认罪

俯首稱臣=俯首称臣

昂首闊步=昂首阔步

Getting stood up (Slang)

“I got to tell you this!” My friend Agnes exclaimed to me, panting.

“But I’m starving!” She took a bite of the hamburger in her hand.

“We got stood up by the aboriginal driver who said he’d like to adopt two of the puppies. He kept us waiting for 40 minutes and his cell phone was off!”

“It sucks!” answered me with anger.

“Perhaps it’s better not to give those puppies to people of this kind. If he stood you up and turned his cell off, he’s irresponsible and will be likely to abandon the dogs when he doesn’t want them.” I concluded.

Previously I wrote about how my friend Spencer had lost his dog “Star” and got her back in the writing “完璧歸趙.” She’s delivered a litter of 7 puppies. Now the puppies are ready to leave their mother and we’re trying to give them away.

We often use to term “放鴿子(fang4 ge zi),” releasing a dove, to refer to the act of standing someone up, when someone makes an appointment with someone else but doesn’t show up, not because of irresistible causes. Sometimes a cabbie or a tour bus driver might make the passengers get off before reaching the destinations. Such act is also called放鴿子.

I really have no idea why we say that. One possible relation is the under-the-table gambling of dove race in Taiwan. To train the racing doves, the keepers would take them far away from home, set them free, and then go home without the doves. The doves have to find their way home. Probably this is why.

Another expression related to “放,” set free, is 放牛吃草(fang4 niu2 chi cao3), literally meaning to release the cattle to graze, leaving them alone.  Some parents ride with a loose rein when bringing up their children. You may use the expression to describe their attitude.

Back to the old times, before the cattle were replaced by machines in farming, the farmers would bring the cattle to a grass, releasing and letting them graze freely on the grass. There’s no need to bind or control the cattle. Such a “let-it-be” attitude thus is called放牛吃草.

It turned out that my friends were not 放鴿子. The driver was stuck by a mud slide in the mountain, where the two puppies are now running around happily growing up, I believe.

完璧歸趙=完璧归赵

放鴿子=放鸽子