I have never learned a language so completely different from my native one. Looking at a page of Chinese looks like gibberish: there is seemingly no connection between the character, the sound it indicates and, finally, what it actually means. To be surrounded by this for the last two months is, to say the least, frustrating, isolating and anxiety-inducing. True, I've picked up some key phrases simply through living here (they usually revolve around the topic of food...), but for the most part, I've remained ignorant to what is going on around me, at least in the language sense.

Chinese class started last week. Just me, my friend Meg, and our instructor; two hours a class, twice a week. Honestly, I was nervous before our first class. I was already overwhelmed with the langauge and this was even before I looked at a textbook. However, it turns out I had nothing to worry about. We have two different teachers: the one on Tuesday seems to focus more on vocabulary and the one on Wednesday really emphasizes pronunciation. While it is sometimes difficult to have two teachers who don't know what the other one has taught (there's a tendency to have things repeated), I'm not sure repetition is a bad thing, in this case.

And, for the first time today, I was able to put my new-found Chinese skills to use. In our first grade class, we were talking about the letter L, and my co-teacher pointed out that there is a ruler shaped like an L. Lucky raised his hand excitedly and said (in Chinese): "My father has one!" I was so happy I was able to understand that (seemigly insignificant) bit of information. Come on, Chinese. Hit me with your best shot!