它看起来像查尔斯在新中国的鸿沟博客已经找到了新源，以振兴中国博客现场点击：辩论在中国在打击色情活动 。

虽然我通常不支持任何类型的检查，我不得不说我不关心的色情事业在中国。 从我所看到的，性别的小贩是最可耻的，垃圾邮件，病毒缠身，一般无用的互联网网站，分散他们的注意力从更重要的事情做喜欢读我的博客的网民。 你可以确信，你不会找到我在示威者的行列时，这些网站获得禁止。

然而，有一个禁止色情更重要的问题，这是中国当局的定义比我们通常理解为色情去的方式进一步。 它适用于一些精彩的 ​​艺术作品，包括电影，如李安的色戒和注意，或者这个伟大的电视连续剧 ，由柳书。 它是用来像一些优秀的艺术家唐炜边缘化，在一般情况下，有助于进一步扼杀创造力的中国文学和艺术的场景。

是肯定，多次禁止“不健康”的内容，只是一个借口摆脱持不同政见者或保护主义政策辩护。 但一般来说，当中国当局打击色情行动，它是一个真正的道德关注。 这里是在那里我看到一个更有趣的角度来讨论，将这个问题我问去年在有关职位的电视连续剧和共产主义道德的党员：为什么这么假正经呢？

从我的生活在不同的共产主义和前共产主义国家的经验，我认为这是不是严格意义上的中国现象。 事实上，它甚至不是一个共产主义的现象，而是一个处处保守的人的共同特点。 我维持，为什么在中国被禁止色情内容的原因仅仅是，中国共产党是一个极端保守的组织，并为所有的保守派，到处都厌恶性的公共显示，即使在私下，他们可能会觉得没有去妓院的5倍一个星期。

那么，为什么不保守派往往共同对性有特别的态度吗？ ，特别是为什么共产主义政权，废除所有宗教，性别相关清教的前列？

红保守党

首先，我想在这里补充一个保守派的定义，只是为了避免周围有一个词的含义，整个讨论反过来。 像大多数政治方面，这可以在不同地方有不同的含义。 我使用这个职位的意义是，我认为是最直观，最了解国际。 从大英百科全书 ：

表示偏好机构和历史发展的做法和政治态度或思想的连续性和稳定性的表现。 在当今时代，这是第一次表示，通过工程埃德蒙·伯克在法国大革命的反应，其中伯克认为其暴行玷污通过其理想。 保守派认为，实施的变化应该是最小的和渐进的，他们欣赏的历史，是较理想的现实。

在像中国这样的共产主义国家的情况下，它总是复杂，使用正常的政治方面的保守/逐行，或右/左。 原因是，在1949-1978年期间的范式被改变，和老保守派被灭绝。 因此，从零创建一个“新国家”，因此，中国政治生活中，“机构和演变历史的做法”只能算在共产党的历史定义的目的。 在中国的保守派往往是共产主义。

这种现象是很难独特。 它遵循的革命运动无处不在获得主流电源的逻辑：他们的焦点突然转向，从“改变世界”，“维持现状”，通常采取保守心态控制。

这是根本没有必要解释这个已经在中国居住的任何人，但我有一些美国人仍然觉得奇怪，打电话给一个共产主义政权的“保守”的感觉。 如果你觉得这一切仅仅是智力多嘴，你缺少了点。 中共的支持者是真正保守的人，他 ​​们的行为， 完全按照你期望从一个保守的其他地方。

从我与一些在中国共产党的热血青年男子，我在朝鲜的互联网夜长聊天的谈话中，我有一个合理的理解：什么动作那些坚信“共产党人”，他们不喜欢的外国势力，他们重视荒谬的重要性国籍和种族，他们是反对任何听起来像旧观念的思想自由或质疑，他们喜欢传统的女孩，漂亮的老炮，谁不穿迷你短裙，或在公众场合说话太多，结婚;他们不喜欢同性恋的人，他们很快叫“妓女”，当一个女孩酷似许多男人做的行为。

悲剧的是，这些保守的人绝不会是能够连接与他们的同行在美国，因为双方都仍然由他们自己的宗教和冷战rethoric的约束。 应该有人发明党的口号，如：世界的保守党，团结起来！

政治术语汤

我将不得不削减今天在这里，因为我的新博客政策不要让我做平均每个职位超过1000字。 我们将继续在未来的一，但在我结束之前，我想提的非常有趣的问题，在中国的政治术语。

由于上述范例的逆转，仍是一个很好的协议在西方的英语单词，哪些应该被用来命名一个共产主义国家的不同意识形态的混乱。 我没有在中国政治的学者，但我在主体（包括学术著作，如看书维克多施明德 ），我得到的印象，不规范的条款。 唯一的书，我已经看到，尝试做一个分类是小手册：“ 什么是中国认为 “由马克·伦纳德。

我希望有人会借给我一只手，并指出我的一些其他资源，在那里我可以看一下这件事。 在此期间，从我记得那本书和我的主动，主教派去如下：

老左： ​​在CPP要恢复毛泽东思想的强硬派。 西方相反，这些左撇子其实都是很保守的人。

老右：崇拜者和台湾的国民党，今天在大陆几乎看不见。 我从来没有见过的人，所以不知道他们是保守的字符或不。 我以为FLG许多成员将响应描述。

新左派：温家宝总理，推动更多的社会政策，公平分配的财富，等在共产党的统治，这样的政治家。 的心态仍是保守的，但小于老左派。

新右派政治家，思想家和一些企业在邓小平的启发鲨鱼“先富起来”，要优先沿海地区，并建立一个无情的资本主义制度。 他们不会有任何的心态，因为他们太忙先富，他们只要不关心政治思想作为自己的猫抓老鼠。

右左：这是我自己不正常的术语包括许志永或刘晓波等人，以及一些人士呼吁政治改革，民主权利和公民权利在中共。 其中许多是不是持不同政见者，但只是勇敢的党员敢于提出自己的声音。 这是唯一的想法，我有“进步”的心态回应。

你觉得这个术语呢？

注：此清单并不意味着可以作为参考，而是邀请参与，请提出你想要的任何条款，或指出我好读一些有关现代中国的政治。 对于那些来到这里找到一些性别，请明天再来时，我将继续与主体后，我会重视中国的色情图片。 有一个愉快的一天。

上海东方早报正在做一个漂亮的覆盖率每年的 全国人大，政协会议 。 我喜欢今天的纸质版，它带有一个可爱的羊驼旁边的胡图和走的过道，从他们刚刚落成的政协男孩的夫妇。

这是一个长的故事，但对于那些尚未观看左上角这些可爱的动物来指粗鲁的谩骂中国人 ，人们不禁要问，如果没有一个年轻的恶意做头版编辑的文件布局。 因为我的意思是，“羊驼的成本在5000欧元的动物公平的新闻”是难以顶部头版材料的今天，是吗？

无论如何，这一年的时间再来，这里是公平，或两会的双橡皮图章，入侵所有的中国媒体。 昨天我什至观看了中央电视台的就职典礼，英勇行使我的听力技巧，有什么可说是本年度最无聊的政治事件。 如果你错过了它，想象一个巨大的杜莎夫人蜡像馆与成千上万的数字，他们每个人看起来完全下一样，坐在同一位置。 加入到这个国家的赞美诗一个简短的性能和你去那里，开幕了！

即使是举世公认的两会有一点政治权力，而重要的决定都是事先由其他机关，节目仍然是重要的中国问题观察家，很多政策在这个时候宣布。 从理论上讲，这是在人民（通过区域代表出席会议）提出新的思路，政府的行为。 本着这一精神，其他渠道已经打开最近，温家宝互联网聊天一样。

今年，我们甚至有什么看起来像一个独立的私人报纸和网站的主动改变户籍制度。 虽然我怀疑，建议将飞往（一些文章已经被审查），它是很好看私人倡议还活着，并且仍然有一些留在中国的独立新闻大胆地团结起来，并提出政策变化位。

东方邮政还带有一个小的采访最如雷的代表之一的两会， 张晓梅女士。 此委托是在互联网上非常流行的一个惊人的建议ultraprolific起草人去年。 一些网民担心，今年以来，为所有与会代表已配备免费的笔记本电脑（用纳税人的钱！）张的性能将得到加强，打雷的数量甚至可能超过往年。

下面是一些著名的张女士提出的建议 ，其中许多看起来像左机翼，女权主义团体将建议欧洲。 这是可以理解的，很多网友都持怀疑态度：它是所有表演给人一种政治自由，其实是不存在的假印象。 但我个人的看法是，不管张女士和雷鸣代表的真实意图，它始终是积极的，有主动提出不同意见的人。 荒谬与否，这个活动是肯定比首届会议的顺从蜡像更积极的形象。

许志永昨天表示，作为中国人民有一个任务来完成。 届时，一个活跃的民间社会的存在将是宝贵的，中国和倡议喜欢上面提到的是一个好兆头，精神是活着的表面之下。

这是所有为今年的两会就职。 如有必要，最终定论会议后更多的覆盖面。

澄清：我看了昨天的就职典礼，全国政协，全国人大有单独上周五就职，这将是更宏伟，因为它是与各区域的代表团规模最大的一次。 不要不要错过！

我已经离开了一会儿，因为我所有的假期时间已经由上海的两个有趣的故事，其中的一个电视连续剧，另一种新型吸收。

串行是WoJu，蜗牛的家，愚蠢地翻译成英文为的窄Dwellingness，或任何。 它已经在中国红热，因为其在11月的第一次广播。 爱丽丝刘单位“和“ 优酷Buzz博客最近遮盖。

由于这些博客指出，这一直是最具爆炸性的成功，我们还记得在中国的电视连续剧。 在不到一个月的时间里，它引发了激烈的辩论，在互联网上，吸引了数百万在线和关闭，并用了可怕的手检查员。 其快速成功的原因之一是有关的问题，买房子，正好碰到年轻的中国观众当场的中心主题。

但是Woju是远远比房地产和腐败的故事。 这是一个扣人心弦的戏剧，丰富的次要情节不断发展具有非常现实的字符填充，围绕一个中心三角恋。 近代中国社会的一个尖锐的批评，是迄今为止我曾经看到大陆电视上最好的产品。 最初它是一种新型的中国作家 ，我们应该看未来，更加紧密地溜溜，在2007年出版的。

下面是我的串行的印象，现在我已经完成了第15章。 我将集中在两个主要的兴趣点：希望了解中国的人的信息内容，并独立于其他因素的产品质量。 最后也是我观察，审查和其他相关的一些有趣的事情。

内容

这个序列是中国通，有抱负的中国问题专家的天堂。 任何试图了解中国的人都应该看它。 如果字符是不完全真实（没有小说可以永远）他们的忧虑，他们的问题和他们的动机是一个高保真的扩增，中国移动今天的年轻公民的反射。 它是浓缩了中国的现实。

我们一直在说过去几年的所有元素都存在，不是一个单一的一个缺失：关系建设，干部的二奶（爱好者），上海男人欺负自己的妻子的，谁也看不出他们的婴儿，非法工作的父母高息贷款，开发商和地方官员之间shanghaiers和外界的冲突，一夜之间丰富的温州，新中国的道德，拆迁或“摧毁”，“钉子人”谁抵制，移动之间的相互勾结山寨手机......你说出它。

和所有是如此精确，你甚至可以看到多少的人物都在自己的工作收入，高利贷什么兴趣问，要花多少钱的党的干部要得到他的第一个小二奶（情人）。

肯定有更好的书，描绘了在过去的中国社会，但主体正在发生变化如此之快，他们都是过时的。 我不认为有任何其他的小说今天的工作，更准确地反映在大约2010年的上海社会。

“你好，我是市委局局长宋（我只是shagged你的女朋友）”

如果你正在学习中国，该系列产品是一个伟大的地道的普通话双MUST。 如果你不是，然后站在与英文字幕的DVD，希望海盗一个人翻译这一次与他的托福水平。 这肯定是有市场，如果他们与电影明年政府不制止它，我也不会感到惊讶。

质量

但更重要的是比上述所有产品的质量。 这是很好的小说和良好的娱乐。

故事是由强烈的爱情三角形的中心美丽的女演员扮演，年轻的海藻李念 。 上面列出的所有元素，包括房地产热潮的赢家和输，倾向于解决此爱/恨的故事，在接触了两个不同的世界：laobaixing干部，中国城市的两个类。

但也许是最好的串行方面，中国电视上呼吸新鲜空气，是绝对缺乏对公众的道德教训。 这里没有英雄或恶棍。 贪婪的开发商，难耐徒劳的妻子，缩头缩脑上海的丈夫，神秘，蛮横的上海姑娘李念饰演。 他们每个人只是人类的弱点，并和我们一样的野心。 他们每个人都可以以最好的和最坏的。

即使是贪官，是人之常情。 一个软弱的人在中年危机，在他手中的权力太大，不检查自己的行为和系统。 腐败，象爱情一样，发生的事件的自然过程，一个病态的社会​​和个人的邪恶计划不结果。 和绛州，为上海代表中国谭，是强大的旋风行动，其中的所有字符绝望漂泊。

检查

这并不奇怪，串行一直由政府审查。 然而，它已被审查的方式，罢工我假正经，如果不能清楚地白痴。

因为我现在是在欧洲，我已经能够观看YouTube上的串行和审查一个中国网站优酷上的比较。 有没有对图像的审查以上，其中上海市委官员公然与男友聊天的女孩，他刚刚被强奸免费使用他的政治力量。

相反，下面的图片进行审查：

看到原来的场景，下面审查的版本，在中国所示。

这是第一个串行正确的性场面。 在原始版本中，您会看到在屏幕的四分之一海藻呻吟的脸，而其他的图像对应到各自的妻子和男友，谁是在家里，担心自己的亲人，而他们正在做奥运类的乌龟。

是海藻的呻吟脸更比上面显示的快乐先生宋淫秽？ 画出自己的后果。 Also interesting is to note that the producers have participated in the censoring process, and the hot scenes are not merely cut out, but edited and substituted by other originals, as in the larger image of the wife above.

Other Details and Questions

I will come back with more details when I am done with the serial, but for the moment I have 2 questions for the public, and especially for the many Chinese I know who have already watched the whole 35 chapters:

1 - 串行秀为什么如此显着的海藻“Coogle”shanzhaied电话，它只是使其更现实，或者是报复，因为谷歌拒绝赞助？

2 - 有一个阴谋的一部分，我只是不明白：海藻是处女，当她第一次与宋睡觉，如果她已与男友多年的生活吗？ 这是一个阴谋的差距，还是我错过了一些严重和令人担忧的中国文化元素？

我昨晚摆弄一些统计数据，考虑到中国互联网心胸狭窄 ，我们一直在讨论最近的奇怪的想法。 表达本身就是奇怪，因为“互联网”和“与世隔绝”，形成一个矛盾，但你很难注意到这些东西，当你住在这里。 它是土地在社会主义市场经济的正常程序。

不管我们作出的短语，事实是，它每次，无论是讲语言 ， 传媒或政治 ，一切似乎都指向这个方向。 下面的图片是我尝试画一个互联网的世界地图来说明这个岛国，从网站上使用互联网世界统计数据。

这里是我：我与所有国家的统计，超过10万互联网用户，这使得在总共32从中国到摩洛哥的第一个想法。 然后我做了一个Excel图表，每个气泡的面积比例到该国的互联网用户，关键的是，我充满了矩阵码的​​气泡。 结果：世界地图的矩阵：

互联网矩阵的世界地图

在上面的地图中的一个有趣的事情是，亚洲已经是世界上最大的互联网领域。 惊人的，但不是真的，毕竟，它拥有迄今为止世界上人口最多。 这是没有什么比什么来：互联网与中国和印度的增长将是在未来几年亚洲联合。 没有他们，没有命中，将真正全球净。 到现在为止，在网络上的大多数人都从现在大多数发达国家，将来自发展中国家。 我们的社会之间的密切联系，将有在线和离线的重要后果。 也就是说，假如我们真的管理连接。

但是，当我们谈到互联网，它并不太大的意义来看待政治的界限。 有没有这样的边境控制线上，真正团结或分裂人民是文化的东西。 最重要的参数是一个特别的语言：不管你的国籍，作为一个用户定义你的语言你上网，这是为什么我的浏览习惯，更喜欢这个看起来Blogger的不是像有人在我的国家的原因： ESWN，我有完全不同的背景，但我们有共同的冲浪语言。

所以我抬起头来的统计，在互联网上最常用的语言，从英语到韩国10。 这一次，我彩色的气泡与标志，我把他们大约在他们的发言者的社会重心的中心。 结果是地图冲浪语言：

冲浪语言的世界地图

尽管如此，地图不是很大。 许多扬声器在庞大的英语泡沫实际上是印度人，西班牙应该是在美国和欧洲，和澳大利亚是完全出来的照片。 物理距离有没有净的意思，甚至比政治界限。 它变得清晰，地理是我的目的没有多大用处，所以我们不妨转储GMaps实现和坚持气泡。

我的新图看起来像这样，在所有主要的互联网社区的代表一起在云。 我们都是相互关联的，只有坚实的区别是语言。 两个人共享一个爱好，喜欢足球，但他们不走相同的网站，如果他们在不同的语言上网。 媒体和互联网上的资源大部分都没有翻译成其他语言，而是重新编写和重新诠释，由当地部落客/记者，社区之间的边界控制功能。

改进互联网的云世界地图：

我们在云中看到的事情之一是，所有的社区都互相接触。 但我恐怕这不是一个非常精确的图片。 通常俄罗斯不翻译日本的内容，也没有葡萄牙语翻译阿拉伯语。 英语有今天在互联网上的重要作用，因为在大多数情况下，它是通过英语，其余的语言沟通：大多数内容是英语翻译第一，并从那里向其他社区。 英语的泡沫，包括来自世界各地的用户，是互联网的中心。

云的另一个问题是，它显示了所有同样互联社区，这是不太现实的。 谁讲欧洲语言的用户更容易阅读英文。 西班牙社会，例如，包括许多美国人许多他们自己的语言上网的英文网站。 其实，大部分的语言泡沫的与英文泡沫像素的重要组成部分，所以我们可以维恩图的排序为代表的地图：

第二次迭代：维恩图地图

我们看到从上一个新的地图是非常不同的。 现在有一个共享的内容很多西方语言与英语，更多的语言，分享了一下，俄语和阿拉伯语，然后三种语言，形成了今日亚洲互联网的核心集群：中国，韩国和日本。 和你可能已经注意到，我得出中国在其余的距离。

由于种种原因，我们将看到，中国人不使用Facebook或Twitter的，或YouTube或MySpace，或eBay。 他们不读Boing Boing“ 赫芬顿邮报“ ，他们在自己的QQ聊天室聊天。 他们很少收到，我们收到的病毒邮件，反而得到一个和别人一样。 他们所有的事情，我们有一些，但他们建立了他们对互联网的独立包裹并行。

而基于以上的气泡的大小是由一个受人尊敬的收集定量数据源 ，位置才决定由半知情的感觉。 任何读者可能会说，中国不应该是迄今为止对。 有香港，华裔美国人，甚至中国大陆做英语冲浪。 ，我将被迫承认的维恩图是有缺陷的，因为它未能证明了这一点。

但是，在这样一个像互联网世界瞬息万变，位置真的没什么意思。 今天举行的明天可能会有所不同。 什么是真正重要的是动态的方向是中国，以及如何将在10年的上网查查？ 大家都同意，中国互联网社区发展非常迅速，这是自然的。 令人担忧的部分是，它也可能被移动从休息。

第三次迭代：动态地图

因为在西方国家的互联网普及率已经非常高，印度仍然处于滞后状态，在未来10年中国互联网将成为大几乎所有的休息起来。 如果继续偏离，它可能会成长为一个平行的网络，像月亮黑暗的一面，一个巨大的，自给自足的岛屿，政府可以随时切出，里面大多数人甚至没有注意到其中的差别。 这违背了整个构思的www。

不管问题的真实规模，这是大多数观察家认为是中国和互联网的其余部分之间的断开连接 ，并有强大的力量，拉他们远一点。 幸运的是，也有力量平衡，并在未来数年的结果将在很大程度上取决于这些因素如何发挥互相对抗。 这里是我的新的地图现在看起来如何：

互联网的力量

正如我们所看到的这个博客之前，一些主要因素，使从中国独立的世界有以下几种，在图表中红色所示：

• 语言 ，因为我们在此看到后 ，我们证明了中国的语言是美丽和独特的，在许多方面，但它使中国人与外国人连接，它很难。
• 文化 ，在广义上的字，这意味着社区有不同的看法和价值观，他们无法理解彼此。 这包括与媒体的问题。
• 政治 ，多种形式，包括保姆，中国长城防火墙（GFW），直接抓人，中共的蓄意行动，因为我们看到这里 。

在绿色的主要因素，在向相反的方向去。 在这里，他们在细节上，乐观欢喜​​：

• 越来越多的桥梁， 博客和其他互联网使用，连接两个社区的工作。 这些措施包括不仅英语Chinablogs，但主要是中国人的翻译对中国互联网的外国媒体和其他内容。 从这个不起眼的博客，我也做了我对桂枝茯苓丸位 。
• 后的90年代和80年代的一代，已经占主导地位的中国互联网。 他们的个人品味艺术，音乐或电影可能会更加国际化，并推动他们与世界接轨。 这一点是辩论的对象，不过，一些西方人是非常怀疑的80后。
• 业务是连结中国走向世界的最重要因素之一。 由于欧盟的建设，这是没有任何秘密，电子商务可以实现世界和平的最雄心勃勃的目标，所以不管你的起飞是对那些经营头脑的中国人 ，他 ​​们很可能是主力仍保持连接中国的岛屿和控股万维网一起。

你觉得呢？ 你有什么想法？

你觉得我夸张？ 或者是问题甚至比这更糟的吗？ 任何因素，我错过了在互联网地图？ 上网的朋友：你是彩色气泡内的像素，你对这个世界知道，因为它是你的家：评论和帮助我提高我的地图！

您可能听说过的的长期Laobaixing（老百姓），从字面上“百家姓”，中国的老百姓。 在这个网站，专门给他们，他们也被称为LBX的。

laobaixing是一个伟大的词，不仅因为其明显的词源，而且还因为它的内涵是相当不同，从我们的“老百姓”。 从我所看到的，在中国每个人都可以成为Laobaixing取决于它风吹，看在Laobaixing是弥天大罪，你只能享受当人看。 见下文：

这是我看到了几个月前的一个小淮海路巷（ 56minus1是更快地将它张贴）的抗议。 注意白色抗议旗帜，以纪念与其他相同的红色宣传的差异。 的横幅说：“上海交响乐团搬迁到一个新的建设，严重扰乱和破坏社会和谐。”很快消失，有没有办法找出什么它是所有关于。 这个星期，我目睹了这一抗议第二章：

旗帜就是现在像一个海盗旗（借口坏手机摄像头）。黑色文本也更积极的，它写着：“宣传部XX欺骗大家，不关心，如果Laobaixing生或死”。 我问球员谁的旗帜，但小车道menwei紧张地打发我走了。 附近有一张海报，说明问题：车道后面的上海交响乐团建设工程造成的震动和墙壁上的裂缝。 第二天，当所有我又回到，见证绝望的Laobaixing：

这是小车道，LBX的生活。 是的，这是一个Maseratti。 请继续关注的下一个情节，我们将继续无依无靠的困境。

Last Friday I wrote a very long post where I ended up including too many ideas. The main point got a bit obscured as a result, but it was simply this: that vocabulary plays an essential role in learning a language, and that because of this Chinese is not only extremely difficult at an advanced level, but also growing more difficult with time.

I don't suppose this is groundbreaking research, but it is interesting because most people are not aware of it, and also for its implications in the limit betwen language and politics, two fields we like to cultivate in this blog. Here is the argument in full with conclusions, for examples and details see the previous post and its comments:

• To learn a new language the main knowledge required is in three areas: grammar, phonetics and vocabulary. Grammar and phonetics differ essentially from vocabulary in that the first two are rules applicable to infinite cases, whereas the latter is raw data. We can call them the Code and the Data elements of the language. The Code elements are finite and not growing. The Data element is practically infinite and growing, to the point that it is not completely mastered even by native speakers.

• When studying a language, the Code elements play an essential role in the basic and intermediate levels , but at advanced level the real obstacle for communication—and therefore for progress—is Data. For example, in German advanced students may sometimes use the wrong declension, and in Spanish they may fail to differentiate “rr/r”sounds. These things tend to not hamper communication because human languages are highly redundant. I would never understand “pero” (but) when a speaker says “perro”(dog). Ultimately, imperfections in the Code elements amount to the same as having an accent: most of the times they are only relevant as metadata.

• But while Code above a certain level is highly redundant, Data remains essential at every level. Borrowing from this great article : The phrase “Jacuzzi is found effective in treating Phlebitis”is meaningless when either or both of the nouns are unknown. A single missing word can often obscure the meaning of a whole paragraph or article.

• The number of words used passively in real life far exceeds the typical standard lists of language levels. This is because semi-specialized words—such as ionic , j acuzzi or matrix— are not included in vocabulary lists as they are considered too rare. Certainly each of these words is rarely used, but there are so many of them that as a whole they are actually very often used. This Data element is so large that it cannot be memorized in a classroom, and the only way to acquire it is through many years of immersion.

• The reason why most language learners never realize this problem is because they are “cheating”. In most languages in the World, this high level vocabulary is practically identical and it doesn't need to be learned. There is a certain limit level for each language above which most modern words are international and the Data is no more specific of the language .

• This limit level of vocabulary convergence is different for every language, but it doesn't so much depend on the language family or geographical origin, rather it depends on the size and the development of the community of speakers. That is the reason why even non indo-European languages like Basque are extremely easy above the intermediate level: the community is not big enough to support complex terms, and all higher Data is adopted from International words. Most people tend to misunderstand and attach too much importance to the concept of language families, and they come up with absurd lists like this one .

• The internationalization of vocabulary is growing with the advances in telecoms and globalization, especially since English has become the only language of scientific research. There is little point in inventing new Swedish terms in science, for example, when all the scientific community are reading/writing their papers in English. Often, in spite of political efforts to promote a local vocabulary, the economics of language revert the higher Data back to Internationalese.

• There is only one language in the World that for historical, political and demographic reasons has remained an exception to this trend: that language is Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese or others, the difference is irrelevant here). It constitutes a parallel system of high level Data that has very few words in common with the rest of the Word. Japanese and Korean are partial exceptions in that they draw from both the Chinese and the International System, but modern words are increasingly International and these languages are converging with the rest.

• In addition to this, Chinese has a ridiculously difficult writing system unique for its lack of a functional phonetic script. This compounds the vocabulary problem: not only there are more words to learn than in any other language, but each word contains much more information as it needs to be associated with its corresponding characters.

• Moreover, since there is no standardized way to transcribe foreign Proper Nouns, even names of places and persons tend to be “translated” into Chinese, sometimes completely departing the original phonetics and becoming Chinese Names in their own right. This adds to the already massive Data element in the Chinese language.

All this takes us to the conclusion: Chinese is the most difficult language to learn at a high level, regardless of the origin of the student.

This is particularly interesting because up to now the right answer to this question was only: “depends on your own mother tongue”. With the possible exception of Japanese/Korean students, this post justifies that Chinese is actually the hardest for everyone else. Inversely, it is also very difficult for Chinese to learn other languages, although this is mitigated by the fact that other languages do have functional phonetic scripts.

Another interesting conclusion: Chinese is not only difficult, it is actually growing in difficulty.

As the World grows more interconnected and technology occupies a more important part of our lives, new semi-specialized vocabulary takes an increasing part in everyday language. Expressions that refer to international concepts such as “spam”or “plasma TV” increasingly take the place of expressions referring to local cultural heritage. In this sense, we can say that all languages in the World are converging, while Chinese is an island diverging from all the rest.

Then there are the political conclusions that we can draw from this, but I am committed to writing shorter posts, so we will leave that for the next day. Comments and corrections are welcome to my arguments above.

I just received an email that reminded me of this funny post on the China Hearsay blog. In the blog, he says of Wen:

This guy never ceases to amaze me. When he retires from politics, he should really start his own PR firm. The “everyman” stuff is handled perfectly. The only folks who have surpassed Grandpa Wen's staff are the people that convinced the American public in 1988 that George HW Bush, a rich dude from Connecticut that went to all the top schools, was an average cracker from Texas.

The mail I received today says:

你见过总理如此可爱的一面吗.喜欢吗？

Have you seen the cute face of our PM? Do you like it?

And it contains the photos attached below. It is not the first time that I see this kind of thing landing on my inbox, so I post it here to give an idea of the effectiveness of Wen's PR.

I guess my friend will be reading this in a minute, so my answer to her: Sorry dear for using you as blogging fodder again. And yes, I dig Grandpa Wen, in spite of my well-known allergy to cuteness. Whatever they say, he looks much better than the guys who will succeed him.

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Do not miss this story by A. Galbraith of the China Economic Review . In the long debate of China's reaction to virus, this is the most reasonable opinion I've seen in a long time, and also the best informed.

The story reminds me of what my friend, a doctor back in Spain, told me when I went home last Summer: “We are all going to catch it in the hospital, and chances are you'll catch it too. Get done with it as soon as possible and you'll be fine for the season”. That pretty much summarized the feeling in her hospital.

These last months, the H1N1 and the swine flu have been used as biological weapons of debate , often to prove the superiority of some political systems over others. The truth is that the Chinese approach was in principle no better or worse than the Western one, and what it lacked in flexibility, it had in effectiveness—after all, the virus could have evolved into something more nasty.

But the real problem is not that. What we should be asking our politicians—and that includes all the countries—is that they get together and agree on a common strategy against virus. Because some day the Big Plague is bound to come, and when this happens humanity had better learned to face it united.

So from here, I prescribe for all the politicians a prophylactic shot of common sense, and I wish a speedy recovery to Andrew.

(h/t to ESWN )

This business trip in Sichuan is really full of surprises. Today we went to visit the Project, a giant industrial complex which will be, upon completion, the largest factory in the World to produce X. A typically Chinese megaproject on the bank of the Yangtze.

But the surprise came when we went to town for lunch, and I found out that the river that flowed into the Yangtze at that point was called the Wu. I hadn't realized before, because the industrial park takes a different name, but sure enough, our client confirmed this point: we were in the riverside town of Fuling.

If you have read the classic China book “River Town”, you know why I was so thrilled. If you have not, then go and get it now . Since you are reading my blog, chances are you are one of those crazy Westerners that seek to understand the Chinese. This books explains them all for you, and in the process it gives you a rare glimpse into the life of inland China. It is fascinating, especially if you don't live in the country already.

The Book

I am taking this chance to do a little review of River Town, so I can start to catch up with my old plans of running a book reviews section. Considering this book is relatively old and already well known, I will just stick to the main points and try to keep this post reasonable.

The story is very simple, it tells the experiences and feelings of the author during his 2 year stay as Peace Corps in Fuling, a third tier town on the Yangtze. Nothing really happens, except that it is inland China in the 90s, and everything happens. The book is enjoyable from the beginning, almost every page right to the end.

Here are the key points as promised:

- Very enjoyable natural writing, with vivid descriptions of the places and the people. One of the best examples I know of literature meeting anthropology. Memorable is the description of the Fuling streets and their “stick-stick soldiers” in the initial chapters.

- The author is a fine observer, and he has the advantage of direct access to his students, who write down for him their opinions about a variety of subjects. One of the main highlights of the book is the contrast between the Fuling and the Western mentality, expressed on the background of the classics of English literature.

- For the sake of balance, some points I liked less: towards the end the book looses some strength (not surprising, after the great first half). The scientific detachment of the author can become a bit exasperating, and sometimes it feels like the anthropologist has taken over the writer. The last dramatic scene with the mob doesn't help to fix this, and I couldn't help feeling that it was an unnecessary addition. But then, that is only my opinion, and I was never in Fuling in the 90s.

The River Town

From what I have seen today, the town of Fuling is doing pretty well, changing so fast that it is almost impossible to recognize it in the descriptions of the book. For one thing, it took us less than an hour to get there from the center of Chongqing, which qualifies it as a close suburb. This is in great contrast with the backwater river town of the 90s.

Now the Fulingers are going to have some World class production facilities, and a good part of the population will be working there, with thousands more coming from all over China. It feels strange to realize suddenly that I have become myself one of the characters (although a very secondary one) in the story of the transformation of Fuling.

There seems to be only one thing eternal in China, and that is the masses of the working people, the “laobaixing”. Sure enough, the stick-stick soldiers are still there and in good shape, running up and down the stairs with massive loads hanging from their bamboo poles. For them, nothing has changed.

I was pleasantly surprised when I booked my last minute flight to Japan, I got a very reasonable price for the 1st October National Day. When I went to Pudong airport I understood why: the streets were empty in Shanghai, nobody flew at that time because they were all at home with the eyes glued to the TV set, watching as thousands of men and women, looking silly in their flowery dresses, marched on Beijing's Chang An Avenue.

I had the chance to watch the parade for 30 minutes as I waited to board my plane. I have to say it was beautiful. Sure enough there were cringeworthy moments, like when the TV showed the communist model peasants, workers and miners , shining like Mario Bros in 256 colours. But of course, a good deal of hypocrisy is always mandatory in these State events, in China and elsewhere. And regarding the execution, I have watched quite a few of the famous mass events in Pyongyang, and I am pretty sure North Koreans are white with envy watching this one, if their state channel even cared to broadcast it.

All this display of patriotism reminded me of the conversation I had last week with little Yi. It was after we watched an advert on TV, the one where the little girl stands on Tiananmen Square squeaking in that ghastly toddler tone: “妈妈我爱你!” (mum, I love you), and a similar girl says the same in Tibetan in front of the Potala temple of Lhasa. The screen then goes white, and a message comes up: “祖国我爱你”. Motherland, I love you. I don't remember which was the company announced, but the advert has been showing continuously for months, and it was the eleventh time I watched it.

I had a delicate stomach that day, and pushed to the limits of resistance, I couldnt help bringing up the subject:

“This is ridiculous,” I said bluntly, “you can't love a country like you love your mother!”

“Of course you can,” said little Yi, “you don't understand the feelings of the Chinese!”

“Yeah, right.”

Babbling toddlers and feelings of the people. That was about as much as I could take before lunch. I regretted I'd spoken at all.

“Our country is like a mother for all the Chinese, ” she continued, “that is what they mean.”

“Yeah, OK, except that it is NOT the same. A mother gives you life, she will always love you and no matter what happens, no matter what mistakes you do or how stupid you behave, she will be there for you. A country, if you fail to comply, will just abandon you or even put you to death ”

“Well, it is a different kind of mother. If you fail, the punishment is terrible. If you work hard and succeed, the prize is much greater. It is a mighty mother with higher stakes, what is wrong with that?'

“Nothing wrong, just that that is not Love”

“It is,” she insisted. “Or don't Christians teach love of God, and isn't He much more terrible, that if you fail to behave even your life is not enough, and you get an eternity of pain?”

“I…,”

I shut up. She had some point there. I don't particularly believe in the Christian god, and besides, 2000 years ago they invented a mother Mary precisely to deal with the rough edges of the Old Testament. But it is true that, in religion and in politics, many people in the West feel that same kind of loving feelings as the Chinese. So this was not really a discussion about China, but a more general one on patriotism.

My problem is that I do not accept the word love to refer to a country. For one reason, because I understand love as a feeling that can only happen between persons, perhaps sometimes with animals, but not with things. And definitely not with abstract and easy manipulable concepts like “nation”. But granted, this is merely a problem of language, and I don't have the authority to prescribe how the word “love” should be used, even less how “爱” is employed in Chinese. Still, there is a more compelling argument against love for the motherland: I think it is not in the best interest of the “loving” party.

Let's look at the facts. Human society has to be organized some way, and the power needs to be held by someone. In the past it was the tribe, the emperor or the feudal lord. Now it is the nation-state, nothing particularly wrong with that. All forms of organization require the respect and participation of the citizens to work, and it is in the interest of everyone to treat them accordingly, once their legitimacy has been established. Therefore, I understand it is important to respect and work for the improvement of one's country, and I try to do it, just like I do for my company or for my university. But love them like a mother?

It might be that I am speaking from a very European perspective–though by no means mainstream even there. Perhaps I am failing to take into account the particular circumstances of countries like China. Europeans used to be the haughtiest and most virulent motherland lovers, until their excessive feelings brought about ruin and destruction. Patriotism in China never caused any catastrophe of even comparable magnitude, and instead worked well to save the people from foreign-imposed sufferings. So the feelings of many Chinese are understandable, if not necessarily beneficial today.

And still, the key question we have to ask ourselves is: are these feelings in the interest of the citizen, and in the interest of mankind as a whole? Can the World really be in peace if the relation between citizens and their countries is one of blind love, like child to mother? When there is a conflict of interests, is the loving child not forced to fight for his beloved to the last consequences? Since conflicts of interests and greedy rulers are facts of life that will not disappear, is not the love doctrine in contradiction with the ideal of World Peace that most of us profess?

I would like to hear opinions about this. Of course, I understand that for many sentimental people the feeling of love for their country is very much alive, and there is little to explain since it is just a feeling . But Chinese tend to be very rational and in control of their feelings, and when they choose to love it is rarely out of blind passion, but rather because they consider it a good option. I suspect their patriotism is in most cases the result of a prisoner's dilemma : if other countries act patriotic, the only rational attitude is to do the same.

But I wonder if people are actually following this logic (ultimately a defensive attitude) or are really so in love with their country and their flag that they don't even think much about it. And if you do think about it, do you actually believe that a peaceful World is possible in the long term?

Perhaps I think too much sometimes. Perhaps the fact that I am writing from Nagasaki, where I have just seen one of the most chilling exhibitions of human-caused horrors, might have some impact on my thoughts today. And still, I stand by all I write here.

What are your views?

(PS. On the same subject, also see this post just published on Chinageeks )

Yesterday I went for a walk on Nanjing Lu and I witnessed a strange phenomenon I had not seen before: the mooncake brokers. It was last Saturday of mooncake picking season, so they were all busily walking up and down the street, scanning the crowds for potential buyers and sellers.

A bit of background: Every few moons, the Chinese celebrate some important festival dating back to the dawn of history, which they spend visiting their extended family and enjoying traditional activities together. The core of these activities involves, of course, eating things, which is why every festival is associated to some particular edible present, generally small, sweet, and roundish in shape.

Of all the very commercialized Chinese festivals, the Autumn Moon is probably the most profitable for the companies involved. The mooncake, particular snack of this festival, has the advantage of being relatively durable, and so well adapted to spectacular red and gilded packaging in the Chinese style. Under these circumstances, there is virtually no excuse for a Chinese not to give and receive the traditional present. Company to employees, neighbour to neighbour, cadre to “ ernais” , for a fortnight the beautiful boxes circulate freely in the country, always given in pairs.

A lonely box of mooncakes separated from its partner

Now, the funny thing is that, as far as I have ascertained, mooncakes are not to the taste of many Chinese, who rarely eat more than half in one sitting. But this is of little importance, because few by now see mooncakes as foodstuffs. Rather, they treat them as legal tender of the Face Reserve. Failing to give and receive the appropriate amount and value of mooncakes before the Autumn moon is akin to social bankruptcy. Everybody knows the price of the major brands, so this “face currency” is as reliable as 24 carat gold.

The final result of all this is that most families end up with a surplus of mooncakes. Of course, knowing the keen commercial character of the Chinese and their aversion to “langfei”, you don't expect them to sit on their piles of boxes. They don't, and the whole season turns into a curious race to get rid of mooncakes before the Autumn Moon is gone and they loose all their social value (the edible value lasts a bit longer, but that is secondary). And so, the boxes received from the company are given to a neighbour, the ones from the neighbour quickly handed to old auntie Li, who gives them to her park dancing instructor and so on, each pair of boxes passing through many pairs of hands.

Fortunately for the families in Shanghai, mooncakes have an extraordinary liquidity during their 2 week trading time, partly fueled by the habit of the large public corporations to hand out mooncake vouchers instead of giving the boxes directly. All the major mooncake companies have outlets in the commercial streets to redeem vouchers. It is in the vicinity of these points, particularly on Nanjing Lu, that the street brokers set up shop. They buy the vouchers at a discount from passing employees, and then sell the redeemed mooncakes to the less fortunate self-employed and to other bargain hunters.

Saturday, the asking price for the main brands was at 50% of face value, and selling price was at 70%. The difference between these numbers is the spread, which is also the net profit of the broker.

The Nanjing Lu mooncake stock exchange

As I walked in Nanjing Street I was analyzing this phenomenon with my friend Little Yi, who was also there to redeem some vouchers.

“Wouldn't it be better,” I said, “if the companies just gave money directly?That 20% spread is a net loss for both employees and company”

“No, no,” she assured me, “the mooncake voucher is essential, companies wouldn't give money”

“But they do give envelopes of money in the Spring Festival!”

“But this is the Autumn Festival,” she sighed, giving me the silly laowai look. “No family wants to be left without mooncakes in the Autumn Moon!”

One of the things I learned this Summer is that, while I may leave on holidays to Europe, China doesn't really leave me anymore. More than just a country, it is a force of nature, the other face of mankind that is now part of my life. China is always there, and she is everywhere, showing up in unexpected circumstances.

Take Spain, for example. The Chinese community there is largely new, not fluent in languages, and originated from one single point in China: the tiny county of Qingtian, upriver from Wenzhou. When it comes to languages, the Spanish are not much better than them, and the whole situation is full of opportunities for the literate laowai. While a simple “nihao” is usually enough to be the hero of the day, some preparation yields better results. Just wander into a Chinese shop casually dropping a Qingtianese greeting, and comment on the remarkable history of the old stone-carving county, home of the Chinese-Spanish. This makes you popular. And you can drink tea and practice your Chinese conversation for hours on end.

What follows is a true story that happened in my last day of holidays. It includes a Chinese family with extraordinary sleeping abilities, and a team of adventurous Spanish ducks. I hope you enjoy it:

It was the first morning flight from Bilbao to Paris, where I was scheduled to connect with the Air France to Shanghai. As I entered the cabin of the A319, I marked immediately a Chinese family sitting in one of the front rows: a middle-aged mother with her son.

She was wearing a shapeless purple jacket in the style of the hundred names, and her teenage son covered his head in a Korean hip-hop hoody. They stood out in the business atmosphere of the early flight. But what made me notice them—and I couldn't help a smile—is that they were already fast asleep before I even got to my seat. As far as I could see, they didn't switch their positions for the duration of a rather eventful flight.

From the start, the journey proved trying for my nerves. As we were taking off, there was a loud bang coming from the back of the plane, followed by a vibration that grew stronger as we flew. For a while nothing else happened, but then, as we were approaching France, the plane suddenly leant to one side, and the Pyrenees mountains turned 180 degrees around us, until we were headed back West from where we came.

The noise grew worse, and the passengers with notions of geography were increasingly anxious. The town of San Sebastian appeared below us for the second time, only this time the ground seemed much closer. All the service call beeps went off one after the other. I looked around to the other passengers and they were all looking around. Nobody spoke.

Finally, the cabin crew appeared on the aisle, delivering row by row the official version of the facts: during take off a flying object had collided with the blades of engine 2, producing the bang and subsequent vibrations that we were experiencing. It was a common occurrence, and there was no danger. As part of the normal safety procedure, the captain had decided to return to the home airport for maintenance.

“It was probably a bird,” said the stewardess when she got to our row.

“A bird?” laughed the steward, “that was a team of big fat ducks!”

I figured he must have been instructed to keep a light mood. I tried hard to laugh, picturing circles of ducklings turning in the turbofan as we struggled to get past the sharp Basque valleys.

***

After an endless flight we were safety landed back onto Bilbao airport. As we were waiting to disembark, the pilot confirmed that the airplane was done for the day. We had to pick up our luggage first and then go to the Air France office on the second floor to request a new ticket. As usual, my suitcase was one of the last to appear on the rolling band, and by the time I got to the office there was already a long queue, about the length of a duck-stricken A319, and every bit as noisy.

The crowd was growing unruly. Some French passengers harangued the masses with true revolutionary spirit, launching slogans against all winged creatures, including ducks, airbuses, and Air France pilots. Since I was last, there was not much point in queuing, so I just stood on one side in a way to signify my disapproval. Then I noticed the focus was gradually shifting, as the keen Robespierres directed their anger to some unidentified target at the front of the queue. I walked over to have a closer look.

It was the Chinese family.

Clearly, they hadn't understood the instructions to pick up the luggage, and they had come straight to the airline office before anyone else. They were first, and they showed no intention of giving up their position. On the contrary, they were holding it admirably. The mother covered the rearguard with her fierce eye, while the son held fast to the desk. They were obviously well trained in conflictive queues, and they seemed unimpressed by the mob.

Linguistically, the situation was not ideal. The mother was screaming in Qingtianese, the son translated into Chinglese and an Air France employee replied in elaborate Spanglish, while the French head of office stared in disbelief. I was alone, and my faithful friend the Electronic Dictionary & Thesaurus was out of reach in the bottom of my bag. But the time was to act, and I did not falter in the hour of peril.

I cut right to the front and put in a “Qué pasa?什么事?”. All four faces turned to me at once. The queue became suddenly quiet.

“They want to go to China!” cried the employee in Spanish.

“We want to go to China!” cried the son in Chinese.

The positions of the parties seemed to me very much unanimous, and ripe for an easy consensus. But further enquiry proved that it was not exactly so. I managed to reconstruct the following facts:

The family had slept through the flight, right until we landed back in Bilbao. Then they had not understood the strongly accented message of the pilot and they had dashed out of the plane straight to the connections desk, where they had been redirected to the airline office. And they acted so urgently because they only had one hour to catch the connecting flight. All they asked is to board their plane immediately, and they were pretty suspicious of this whole attitude of the staff in Paris.

Because they actually thought they were in Paris.

The problem was not an easy one to explain. Not only the mother's mandarin was as bad as mine, but also she was determined, and she had a deep rooted common sense. They had just flown into Paris and therefore this was Paris, she would take no nonsense from a laowai. I used all my persuasion. I noted how the souvenir shops were selling bullfighters, and not tour eiffels. Finally the young son understood, and he helped me convince her. The fact was settled: We were in Spain, and there were no direct flights to Shanghai from this airport.

The rest was fairly easy to manage, and after a few minutes the three of us left the office with a new ticket. Once their infinite gratitude had been sufficiently expressed, I couldn't help asking the son:

“But, how could you not realize that this is the same airport as before?”

“Well,” he smiled shyly, “Mum was just telling me that she finds all airports in Europe look strikingly similar!”

And his mother, who was tough but good-humoured, found it rather funny, and we all joined in a face-saving laughter. Then I knew I was engaged as official interpreter of the sleeping family.

***

In the end, my work as a translator served my interests well. We got our new tickets before anyone else, the last three places left to connect with the evening Paris-Shanghai. The revolutionaries were so stunned by the performance that they forgot to guillotine us, and the Air France employee gave us some free lunch vouchers for the VIP lounge. To make our wait more pleasant, she said, the company was offering one of their specialty dishes in the “Restaurant des Mondes”.

It was still far from the Spanish lunch time, so we had to wait while they opened the kitchen for us. The prospect of a free lunch worked well to improve the mood of my Chinese friends, and we had a lively chat in the VIP sofas. I took the chance to impress them with my baidupedic knowledge of their hometown. After that they opened up to me, and the last lines of suspicion finally vanished from the woman's brow.

I listened distractedly as the son informed me of the state of the rap scene in Zhejiang. A terrible state that was, apparently, and I waited for a chance to switch topics. It was his mother that I found most intriguing. All the while she was sitting very still, as if lost in her own thoughts. She had an outside appearance that in China would be classified as “peasant”, but her proud, resolute eyes didn't quite fit in the picture. What was she doing flying around with her single son? I finally asked him.

As it turned out, she was a renowned chef back home. Qingtian is the origin of thousands of Chinese restaurants across Europe, and their extended family had made a fortune with a popular chain of Chinese food. She had come as an expert to establish new recipes in the family restaurants in Spain, all the while teaching her son the secrets of the Chinese cuisine. They had toured the country for three months, making the company's food “more delicious, more authentically Chinese”.

“Her most famous recipe is Beijing Duck,” said the kid, licking his lips, “You have never tried anything like that!”

“I would love to have a chance to try it,” I answered, suddenly hungry for duck.

Then the mother, who hadn't said a word all this time, looked at me with a strange smile. I felt there was an invitation coming. Instead, she opened her eyes wide and nervously shook her son's shoulder.

“Heavens!” she cried, “we still haven't picked up our luggage!”

***

When I took them down to luggage collection, their belongings were still lonely turning around on the band, a number of shapeless pieces covered in woven tarpaulin. As we loaded them one by one onto a trolley, the son suddenly found something was wrong. It was the last packet, a cardboard box with some strange little holes pierced on the top. He held the box on his knees and showed me one of the corners where it had been torn open. The box was empty.

The woman was very upset. She started moving her arms up and down and speaking in her sing-song dialect at an alarming speed. I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying, but the replies of her son were more composed, and I could more or less make out the gist of it:

“I told you we couldn't take them on a plane, mum!”, he was saying.

“But how can we pass the long winter without them?”, she replied.

Suddenly I had a very dark premonition. While they were busy arguing, I walked over to the broken box and examined it carefully. As I held it up in front of me, a small, delicate object floated down from the broken corner. It was a feather.

I dropped the box as if it burned my hands, and I kicked it behind the rolling band were it wouldn't be seen. I was in panic now, and I joined the arguing party with my own version of alarmed mandarin:

“We have to het out of here, NOW!”, I said.

“What? But the box?,” said the mother.

“Forget it!” I pushed the trolley towards the door, “we will see to that later!”

“What? But we have to file a complaint. They might have found …”

“No!”

I tried to control my nerves, as I envisioned charges for terrorism, and the dire diplomatic consequences of China's national dish being presented as evidence of the crime. I tried to relax telling myself that at least there hadn't been any human casualties.

“Please help us,” she said.

“We can't do this now! Spain is a bureaucratic country, these things take a long time…” I muttered. “And anyway I'm sure your little friends are going to be fine!”

She gave me another inquisitive glance, like the first time I suggested she was not in Paris. She was clearly reconsidering about my sanity.

“Well, excuse me ,” she said, “but they are important to me, and if you don't want to help me I will have to file the complaint myself”

Just at that moment the airport PA system cracked with a life-saving announcement. All the passengers of the cancelled flight were asked to go back immediately to the second floor, were new information was awaiting us from the captain.

“Quick, this must be our lunch, let's go before we miss it!” I translated, and this argument finally seemed convincing enough for the stubborn lady.

***

On the second floor, the slick French captain was putting in practice the company's open information policy. The maintenance staff had just confirmed—he said—that it was indeed the impact of external objects on the engine that had caused the vibration. The strange bodies had been already extracted and brought in from the hangar for analysis. The decision to return to the airport had proven a good choice, as it was the chief engineer's opinion that we would have never made it to Paris.

A drop of cold sweat fell down my right temple as I considered the chances of those little animals finding their way into the turbine. Even if they managed to tear open the box and then break free from under the piles of luggage, even if they could unlatch the hold door with their little beaks, still, how could they fly over to the engine? It seemed impossible. I remembered the laws of fluid dynamics, and how turbulent airflows exhibit nonlinear, chaotic behaviours. For the first time in my life I felt I understood the real meaning of the Chaos Theory.

In the meantime, the mother had sent her boy to inquire about lost objects, and he was explaining their problem to the captain in such a perfectly unintelligible English that the brave man could only smile politely. They looked around at a loss, only to see that their laowai friend was nowhere to be found. I had just in time slipped into the gentlemen's restroom.

At this point, the airport loudspeakers buzzed again:

Passengers of the AF2435 to Paris, please proceed into our VIP lounge. As a special attention, we are offering you the chef's specialty in our exclusive “Restaurant des Mondes”

***

I joined the family again as they walked down the corridor to the VIP Lounge. It seemed that the luxury meal kindly offered by Air France had conquered the heart of the frightful woman. Her expression showed no more pain for the loss of her beasts, and I hoped she had decided to give up the search. Presently, she was impressed by the quality of the service, and her mood was chatty.

“They know how to treat a client, in France,” she said conversationally, “back in China it's not even comparable.”

“Oh, sure, great service here,”

“Even if they don't have any proper backup plans,” she noted, “they are just great at doing nice surprises.”

“Oh, yeah, you can count on the French for surprises”

“It is all in the attitude, isn't it?”, she said, and her only child nodded in agreement.

As we approached the “Restaurant des Mondes”, the atmosphere was so relaxed that I thought we had passed the worst. I just had to get them on our plane right after lunch, and there would be no more nonsense of lost object complaints. Then I saw the stewardess at the restaurant door, smiling. She held a large sign written in all the major languages of the World, including mandarin. It read:

TODAYS SPECIAL DISH:

“Thin-sliced duck Beijing style”

In case there were any doubts, underneath the text there was a colourful picture of a team of ducks thinly sliced as if by fast rotating blades, swimming in the dark sauce of the traditional Beijing recipe.

I tried with my body to hide the sign from their view, but I was too late. There was not much point anyway, the pictures were all over the place, and the food was coming out any minute. As we sat down, I peeped at her out of the corner of my eye. Her expression was enigmatic, the initial apprehension had turned into something more lofty. Was it triumph? I trembled.

The dishes were served and, unexpectedly, nothing happened. I glanced at my two friends. The were obviously enjoying their meal, emitting now and then favorable grunts and other judgements with the assurance of the true connoisseur. Then, halfway through their ducks, they looked at each other with an understanding smile and, following some mysterious signal, the lady suddenly stood up, knocking her chair behind her, and crying out loudly:

“I want to speak to the person who cooked this!”

There was a spark in her eye as she glared at the kitchen door on the other side of the dining room. I could not think of anything to say this time, so I just sat still, helpless as the slings and arrows flew swiftly towards their target.

Seeing that no help was forthcoming from my side, the mother ignored me and took direct action. She strode across the room and, without further preambles, she thrust open the kitchen door, roaring in Qingtianese. In a minute, the cook came out sporting a high chef hat and howling even louder than her. To my surprise, he was also employing some variety of Zhejiang dialect.

Then something strange happened. The moment he saw the chef, the son stood up and ran across the dining room charging like a fighting bull, and when the three of them were at a close distance, they came together in a long, warm hug.

I stood rather awkwardly next to them, wondering what was next. The chatter of the adults had risen to undecipherable speeds under the flow of emotions. I looked at the teenager for an explanation, but he was too absorbed speaking to the cook. Finally, I managed to catch some fraction of the conversation:

“Uncle Li, we knew it had to be you, nobody else in the World can cook Beijing Duck like mother! What are you doing here?”

“You know, I got a catering contract with Air France, didn't I tell you?”

“Uncle, you really need to help us, mother is really worried! This laowai is with us, but his Chinese is so-so, and he just doesn't get it!”

“Say, my boy, what is the problem?”

“It is the new down-filled coats that mum bought to take home for the winter. She was so upset when we found out that they've been stolen from our luggage…”