ASIA LETTER: Welcome, dear readers, to the confusing world of "Chinglish" For the uninitiated, "Chinglish" is the slang name given to the mangled English translations found on restaurant menus, road signs, and public notices right across China.
Take for example the English version of the menu in our favourite Chinese restaurant in Ritan Park in downtown Beijing.
It took us a while to realise but now we know that the "crap" is, in fact, a misspelt but very tasty fish. The soft-fried "pawns" are a seafood without the "r" and the "special fumed fish" (I presume they mean smoked) we haven't tried yet. We haven't got around to the "Bean Eurd" either.
For several months, we were intrigued every time we passed the "Sex Shop" near the China World Trade Centre. We eventually discovered this store does not sell pornographic material, but reproductive health care products.
Even a night at the theatre can be confusing, thanks to Chinglish. In the Chang'an Theatre in Beijing, the even number seats are marked "double" and the odd ones "single".
North of the city at the majestic Ming Tombs, one of Beijing's biggest tourist attractions, when you want to use the public loo just follow the sign that says "collecting money toilet".
And there's more. Our friend's local gym has a sign which proclaims "this treadmill is in the middle of repairing". A notice on one side of the swimming pool advises "no frolic", and on the other "no drink after entering".
Road signs are always a source of amusement. There is one leading onto a busy junction which proclaims, "don't drive tiredly". One city in the south of China tells departing visitors "Welcome".
How about the warning notice outside a local park that says "decadent songs and actions that go against decency" are not allowed. Or this one: "No pets are allowed, combustible or explodable". And there is a dentist in Beijing trying to woo western customers with the promise of extracting teeth "by the latest methodists".
Yesterday I bought hair conditioner which is said to use "one to two walnuts depending on the length of your hair". Still trying to figure that one out.
For us foreigners, the "Ching- lish" is a bit of a hoot and we can be all too condescending at the English efforts of our hosts. But, for the Chinese authorities, it is becoming more and more of an embarrassment now that China is a fully fledged member of the WTO and Beijing is set to host the Olympic Games in 2008.
In Beijing especially, city officials have declared war on Chinglish and are demanding linguistic perfection.
As part of a new "anti-Chinglish" campaign, a telephone hotline has been set up and people are being asked to call if they see a misspelling or a grammatical mistake.
In the first two weeks of the hotline's operation, 22 English signs around Beijing were corrected.
To go hand in hand with the anti-Chinglish campaign, Beijing's Vice-Mayor, Mr Zhang Mao, has launched the "Capital Residents Study English" movement which aims to give all workers in the tourism and services industry a "middle-school" level conversational competence in English.
Contrast this to the early days of the People's Republic of China, when learning English was actually banned and millions of students ordered by Chairman Mao and his cohorts to study Russian instead.
But with the advent of the "opening up" policy in China, the attitude to English has changed and today the learning of the language is being undertaken with revolutionary zeal.
The Ministry of Education has just made English a compulsory subject for primary school students and has mandated that by the year 2004, between 5 and 10 per cent of all third level college courses be taught in English.
At the New Oriental Language School in Beijing more than 150,000 students registered last year for private two-month English classes costing about 50 euro. And thousands of Chinese are travelling abroad to learn English, with Ireland one of the most popular study locations.
People are so eager to learn that you are often stopped on the street by a complete stranger keen for a chat and some English practice.
In the year we have been here, there has been a noticeable increase in the use of English in public places including bars, shops and tourist locations.
At the forefront of the English language drive are Beijing's 60,000 taxi drivers. As part of Vice-Mayor Zhang's English campaign, they have been issued with a copy of a phrase book and tape and have been told they must learn 100 English phrases by 2008.
And they are taking their tasks seriously. Yesterday, a cab driver, Guo Min, proudly waved his English phrase book at me as soon as I slipped into his cab.
He then put on his tape and for the 25-minute journey had me helping him with his pronunciations. (In fairness, he did offer the quid pro quo of helping me brush up on my pathetic Chinese.) By the time we got home, Mr Guo was showing a lot of promise, uttering a near-perfect "thank you and goodbye".
miriamd@163bj.com