Writers dig into ways of China

A few months ago I rushed to check in at the airport and a guy’s babbling caught my ear. He animatedly talked with his companion as they exited baggage claim. He had the long white beard of a pioneer man descended from European immigrants.

He spoke flawless Mandarin. I felt a mix of jealousy and awe over his perfect tones, those quirks of pronunciation that give each Chinese word five different meanings.

It’s been a long time since I lived in China. Even then my tones remained hit-and-miss. I never asked anyone for a pen, for example, because if I got the tone wrong I’d be asking to borrow someone’s vagina. So, props to pioneer man.