learning-cantonese

[learning-cantonese]

The Phantom Tone

My confusion set in before lesson one. My textbook of choice, Teach Yourself Complete Cantonese, begins with a pronunciation guide. There I learned that “there is no ‘official’ romanization of Cantonese, and many different systems are in existence.” Which would this text choose?

The Teach-Yourselfers went with the Yale system, developed at Yale University in the late 1950s by Gerard P. Kok to teach Cantonese to native English speakers. The tone markings are similar to the pinyin system for Mandarin, while an “h” is added to the end of a syllable to indicate a lower register. The Yale system notes seven tones:

(mā) high level

(mà) high falling

(má) mid rising

(ma) mid level

(màh) low falling

(máh) low rising

(mah) low level

I can do this, I thought. The only differences between the Cantonese and Mandarin tones are that Cantonese possesses a middle register and lacks a low “dipping” tone. On to the first exercise!

My Complete Cantonese CD (remember CDs?) instructed me to write down nine two-syllable words in Yale romanization. Easy? No, not so easy:

Okay, I guess I need to practice. But one word got in the set under my skin: the fourth, boǹgsóu. Specifically, one syllable of that one word bothered me: boǹg. Because, you see, it didn’t sound like a high falling tone at all, but a high level tone (bōng). Here’s my own recording of what boǹgsóu sounds like on the CD. And here’s what I expected boǹgsóu to sound like.

As I went on to the first lesson, this phantom high falling tone was nowhere to be found. It was written in the book, but I just couldn’t hear it. Every syllable written as high falling sounded to me like high level.

I did the sensible thing: I turned to Wikipedia. I found a chart comparing the various romanization systems, and there it was: high level and high falling lumped together in Jyutping, the romanization system created by the Linguistic Society of Hong Kong:

Simon Ager, wizard of Omniglot, explains: “The high level and high falling tones are not usually distinguished and have merged together in Hong Kong Cantonese.” The Yale system preserves the memory of the high falling tone, but the recording for Complete Cantonese does not.

That’s just one orthographic relic, compared to all the silent vowels and kn- words in English. But the Great Vowel Shift of the English language transpired centuries ago. The Yale system and its high falling tone mark debuted in 1958. Perhaps Cantonese is going through a phonological revolution all its own, right now.

Progress Note: It turns out that the hardest part of teaching myself Cantonese is making the time for it. Since January, I’ve only advanced through three lessons in my text, and not because each lesson is so difficult or packed with information. My new goal is to do a new chapter every week. To accomplish this, I’ll study first thing in the morning. If I don’t make time at the very start of my day for Cantonese, I’ll just keep pushing it back. I’ll be back in a few weeks to update you on my progress. Thank you, dear reader, for keeping me honest!

So 2012: All the cool kids are on Medium. Now my blog is, too! I’ll continue posting here on Tumblr, too.

[learning-cantonese]

Why Learn Cantonese?

I’ve decided to teach myself Cantonese. It’s been a long time coming. I learned “thank you” for my first trip to Hong Kong in 2012 and left it at that. In 2014 I gazed with baffled longing at the papers and sensational books on display at newsstands. I tried to pick up a bit here and there, but it’s hard to learn a language alone and from afar.

Then came the Umbrella Movement, also known as Occupy Central: the 79-day occupation of the city’s major thoroughfares in a grassroots push for universal suffrage. As translations editor at China Digital Times, I did my best to pluck a few choice signs and cartoons from the creative torrent the movement generated. But my team only knew Mandarin, and Mandarin is about as close to Cantonese as French is to Italian—clearly related, but not at all the same. Suddenly, I realized that Cantonese would not just allow me to navigate Hong Kong on my next trip. I could cut the Mandarin and English middlemen and dive into that flood of Facebook posts, those Stand News’ scoops, those TV Most parodies. It could unlock a world of debate about what it means to be a citizen of Hong Kong.

By understanding in depth the struggle for universal suffrage, debates over autonomy from the People’s Republic of China, and preservation of Hong Kong’s linguistic and cultural identity, I hope to contribute important insight into the delicate dance between Hong Kong and Beijing, and through that to throw into relief the identity politics and shifting power structures happening in so much of the world right now.

There is my lofty reason for this project, a long-term goal that I will approach incrementally through 15 minutes of mostly-daily study. There is a simpler goal, too. I love the process of learning language in and of itself. I miss the feeling of strange new vowels on my tongue, the struggle with new sentence patterns, the delight of hard-won comprehension. So I decided to taste a little bite of Cantonese (almost) every day this year and see how it goes. I’m starting with Complete Cantonese, and have chipped away at two-and-a-half lessons so far. I’ll blog about my progress and experience with Cantonese throughout the year, and hopefully beyond. Sometimes I’ll nerd out about grammar and phonology. Sometimes I’ll connect what I’m learning with what I’ve learned about Hong Kong and Cantonese culture. I’ll be back in a few weeks to tell you about my journey.