Ruby Grimshaw earns Cantonese brownie points

As I got on a bus in London Road last week I had to wait while the Chinese gentleman in front of me was trying to make the bus driver understand him. The passenger was waving a piece of paper with directions and numbers on it, but the driver shrugged his shoulders. “Just tell me where you’re going, mate.” The Chinese man tapped the paper again, looking confused.
At times like these I feel ashamed that many years ago I passed a Cantonese exam in Hong Kong, even earning a bonus of $200 for obtaining a distinction. It was now so frustrating to find that all I could bring back to my memory were such phrases as “Where does it hurt?” (useful for a physio but not for giving directions) and “Do you like to drink beer?”.

The driver did look as though he could do with a stiff drink

of some sort and I felt I had to do something. “Where you go?” I said, dredging up the phrase from somewhere. I’m sure it wasn’t correct Cantonese but the Chinese gentleman was delighted and looked about to hug me.
For the rest of the journey to Churchill Square he regarded me as his best friend and kept regaling me with nods and loud remarks in Chinese. I had no idea what he was saying but I just kept smiling and nodding. Cantonese is a very loud guttural language and it can appear as though everyone is having an argument and that it won’t be long before the whole conversation comes to blows. I was not surprised the passengers on the bus looked amused but also puzzled. I had remembered by now how to say “How are you?” and “Do you enjoy dancing?” in Cantonese but I felt we had gone past these niceties.
At Churchill Square I accompanied my new friend to the man in the Transport Enquires box and together we got him onto the correct bus (the 5B of course; is there anywhere that bus does not go?) I did feel as though I had done my good deed for the day but I also felt I could have done better. When I got home I found my old Teach Yourself Cantonese videos and cassettes, bought a few years ago when treating a delightful patient from Hong Kong. They still lie unopened on my bed while I decide whether to fit Cantonese into my schedule of yoga, meditation, writing and riding. I am not optimistic, unfortunately.