A Second Soul

Our flight was delayed, but we took off finally, and they were serving us dinner. The Chinese attendant did not comprehend when I asked for “jiu ro.” I had to say “chicken.”

The plane lurched, and a plastic fork bounced from her tray, hitting my shoulder.  She must have said “I am sorry” six times.  

I assured her it was OK.  “Mei guanxi.”

Every time I successfully communicate in Chinese, it’s a triumph. Languages don’t come easily to me, but I’m persistent. The great philosopher Kongzi, whom the West calls Confucius, said that to learn a new language was to acquire a second soul. Since my Chinese is limited to such profundities as “May I have a napkin?” and “Where are the toilets?” it seems like a stretch to say I’m undergoing a metaphysical change of any sort. Still, it’s fun.