Friday, November 21, 2008

Chinese Coke: Tasty-Happy

Some brands don't translate well into other languages, like the Chevy Nova, which in Spanish means Chevy No-Go. But when Coke came to China in 1978 as the only foreign company allowed to sell packaged cold beverages, it hit the ground running and hasn't stopped. That's thanks in part to its great brand name in Chinese.

For some reason, last night at badminton we were discussing the Chinese name for Coca-Cola, which is: 可口可乐 (ke3 kou3 ke3 le4). This is really an ingenius translation, and no doubt helped propel the soft-drink maker into the Chinese stratosphere. The first part, 可口 (ke3 kou3) means "tasty," or "delicious." Then the next half, 可乐, (ke3 le4), literally means "really happy," although nowadays it stands alone as the generic word for "cola" of any kind. So Coke in Chinese is "Tasty-Happy." Or just "Tasty-cola," since cola has worked its way into the Chinese lexicon.

Pepsi's name is 百事可乐 (bai3 shi4 ke3 le4), which sort of means "100 Things to Make You Happy." Again, it is also just "100 Things Cola" now, but the literal translation still isn't bad. Sprite's name is a little more poetic: 雪碧, (xue3 bi4), "snowy green jade."

Some product names are translated with poetic names firmly in mind. Take furniture giant IKEA, for example: 宜家 (yi2 jia1). In "English," the name is apparently an acronym of Ingvar Kamprad (founder's name) Elmtaryd (his family farm) Agunnaryd (his home county in Sweden).

According to blogger Xie Zhichun, IKEA's Chinese name was taken from a poem in the ancient 诗经 (shi1 jing1) or "Book of Songs," that goes: 桃之夭夭, 灼灼其华. 之子于归, 其室. (tao2 zhi1 yao1 yao1, zhuo2 zhuo2 qi2 hua2. Zhi1 zi3 yu2 gui1, yi2 qi1 shi4 jia1) "The lovely peach tree displays its magnificent flowers. When the new bride arrives, she brings harmony and peace to the home." The word for IKEA is taken from the last part of the poem and basically means "harmonize the home." Good one, Ingvar.

Revlon is another poetic one. In Chinese, the make-up company's name is translated as 露华浓, (lu4 hua2 nong2). It kind of sounds like the English version (which is based on company founders Charles and Joseph Revson's last name with an "L" inserted in the middle for their chemist, Charles Lachman), but the Chinese version refers to a poem by Li Po, which he wrote about famously hot Tang Dynasty imperial consort Yang Guifei (杨贵妃, yang2 gui4 fei1). And it goes a little something like this: "云想衣裳花想容,春风拂槛露华浓." (yun2 xiang3 yi1 shang hua1 xiang3 rong2, chun1 feng1 fu2 jian4 lu4 hua2 nong2). "Clouds make me think of her clothes and flowers remind me of her visage, the spring breeze blows by her door and reveals her deep magnificence." So Revlon wants Chinese consumers to believe that they will reveal a woman's "deep magnificence," a good thing for a cosmetic product to do!

This is a clever translation that works on several levels: phoenetically (loosely); poetically (real nice) and historically (Yang Guifei is a well-known babe of historic proportions. See statue above!).

Next time: Brand names that don't work! (If I can find any...)

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Radical, dude


Chinese characters are made up of distinct parts called "radicals," or sometimes called "section headers" (bu4 shou3 部首). (So called because of the way you look up characters in a Chinese dictionary.) The current 214-radical system is based on the Kang Xi Dictionary, which was formalized in the 18th century by Qing Dynasty Emperor Kang Xi (kang1 xi1 康熙 ). Most radicals are also characters on their own.

Each radical means something, and often the combination of radicals is a clue to what the whole character means, or sometimes it is a clue to the pronunciation.

For example: The radical represents "three drops of water (san1 dian'r3 shui3)." It even looks like it!

Then this radical, 目, represents "eye (mu4)." Unlike the 'three drops,' this is an actual character, as well as a radical. Put them together and you have "tears (lei4)"!

The characters I wanted to talk about today are characters that are made up of the same radical repeated 2 or 3 times within the same character. These are called "totally radical" characters. (Not really). With these you really get a sense of how cool and interesting the language is. Here are some good examples.

1) Forest and the trees: The character/radical mu4, 木, means "wood, or tree." Put two "mu's" together and you have 林 (lin2), which means forest (it's also a surname). Then put three of them together (森, sen1) and the meaning changes to "luxuriant vegetation!" Therefore a common word for forest is sen1 lin2, 森林. So the word for forest in Chinese is essentially "tree tree tree, tree tree."

2) Sound of Thunder: Thunder in Chinese (雷, lei2) is made up of two radicals, rain (雨, yu3) and field (田, tian2). But if you want to convey a really massive, intense, nerve-shattering thunderclap, throw three thunders together to get this insane ideogram:
(bing4).
This pen-destroying character takes a whopping 39 strokes to write, so if you use it you'd better mean it, buster.

3) Ancient chauvanists? The character for woman (女 , nv3) is a representation of a figure kneeling down. If you think that is sexist, check out this one: , jian1, which is three 'woman' radicals all together. This means "villainous, treacherous or debaucherous." (It really makes you wonder what happened to the guy who invented that character.) The 3-woman version is the traditional form of the character. In simplified characters it is , which is less blatant but still has one 'woman' radical in it.
In the same vein, the character 嬲, niao3, is two 'man' radicals on either side of a 'woman.' It means "to flirt or tease."

4) Five elements x 3: In Daoist philosophy, there are five main elements: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire and Earth. (金 jin1, 木 mu4, 水 shui3, 火 huo3, 土 tu3.) Each of these is a radical as well as a word, and each element has a character that is made up of itself repeated three times:
3 Metals: 鑫 xin1, used in names to symbolize prosperity.
3 Woods: 森 sen1, lush vegetation (as described above)
3 Waters: 淼 miao3, vast expanse of water, infinity
3 Fires: 焱 yan4, flames (also has a 2- and 4-radical version: 炎 yan2, inflamed; 燚 yi4, lots of flames)
3 Earths: 垚 yao2, embankment (also has 2-radical version, 圭 gui1, a type of jade tablet.)

There are many more of this type of character. If I find some really weird ones, perhaps I will revisit the topic in the future. Stay tuned!

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Sarah Palin in Chinese

In the interest of getting everyone super-excited to get out and vote, I have revisited this important topic: Wacky translations of U.S. candidates' Chinese names.

Previously I revealed the translations of the Chinese names of U.S. presidential candidates/hopefuls. But now that we have the VPs settled as well, it is about time to disclose how these two people - Joe Biden and Sarah Palin - are named in the Chinese press. Their names are two more classics in the 'messed-up-out-of-context-literal-translation' category.

Let's start with everyone's favorite right-wing mooseslayer Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin. (莎拉佩林, sha1 la1 pei4 lin2). Her first name, Sarah, is composed of two characters: 莎 sha1; 拉 and la1.

The first character actually has two pronunciations: sha1 and suo1. Read "suo," it is a type of sedge grass apparently used to make ancient raincoats. The "sha" pronunciation is generally used as a phonetic element in foreign names like Shakespeare and Mona Lisa. But it also has a third meaning: a type of insect. The "sha"-bug is a katydid or long-horned grasshopper, otherwise known in Chinese as the (纺织娘 fang3 zhi1 niang2), which literally means "weaving girl." (I don't get it either.)

The second part of Sarah is "la1." Also a favorite with phoneticizers, this character actually means "to pull." OK onto the last name: 佩林 pei4 lin2, which in Chinese sounds pretty close to the English pronunciation.

Pei4 has multiple meanings including "to carry or hang off of," "admire," and "girdle ornament." The last refers to the practice in ancient China where women used to wear jade ornaments that hung off of their belts. And...

Lin2 is composed of two "wood" radicals, and therefore means "woods," or "forest."

Let's recap: Sarah Palin's name in Chinese means: "Katydid pulls the girdle-ornament forest."

OK, on to Obama's running mate, Sen. Joe Biden (乔拜登 qiao2 bai4 deng1). Biden's name is usually written as just a 2-character transliterated surname: 拜登, bai4 deng1. The "qiao" part is supposed to sound like "Joe." Here's how it breaks down:

Qiao2 means tall or lofty. It is also a real Chinese surname, so it gives his name a slight air of authenticity, though here is it supposed to sound like his first name, Joe.

Bai4 means to bow, or kowtow, or to worship.

Deng1 means to scale, climb, or to mount.
Not terribly exciting, but in a nutshell Biden's name means: Tall kowtows and mounts. But, if we take the qiao2 to be "Joe" and combine it with Obama's Chinese name we have a more interesting-sounding final Democratic ticket:

Joe kowtows and mounts Mysterious sticky horse.

Who wouldn't vote for that?

Note: I admit that the title of this post is a shameless attempt to have Google find my blog, just in case someone searches for how to say Palin's name in Chinese.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

The art of the Wait-For-It Phrase, or "xie hou yu"

In a previous post I described the 歇后语, xie1 hou4 yu3, or "wait-for-it phrase," (WFI) a figure of speech in Chinese that is used humorously to express an idea in an ironic or pun-like way.
Other languages have similar playful phrases.

Cockney rhyming slang, for example: "Shut yer bloomin' boat!" wherein "boat" refers to "boat race" which rhymes with "face," so it means "shut your face." Or: "Lend us a Percy, I need to make a call." Where Percy = Percy Thrower (British TV gardening personality), which rhymes with "blower,"which means "phone." ... I know.

Or American English:
(From the Fat Albert Show, courtesy of Eric, of the Internet, possibly classmate Eric Aldrich from Nanjing University)
"Man, you're like school in the summertime - no class."
"Mudbone, you're like Robinson Crusoe - all washed up."
"Your sister's like a doorknob - everybody gets a turn." (I don't think Fat Albert ever said that one)

The above examples are close to the Chinese wait-for-it phrase, but there is a slight difference. In English, the punchline says what you were trying to say about the person in the first place, e.g. "you have no class." But the xie hou yu takes it one step further. Observe:


1) "You're like an ant peeing on a book - you can't read well."
At first it doesn't make sense, but the WFI phrase is: 蚂蚁尿书上 -- 识(湿)字不多 (ma3 yi3 niao4 shu1 shang4 - shi2 (shi1) zi4 bu4 duo1). 'An ant pees on a book -- not many characters get wet' But the word 湿 (shi1, 'wet'), sounds like 识 (shi2*, 'recognize' - in this case referring to characters) so the answer sounds like 'can't recognize very many characters'. (*Even tho the tones are different, it is still a homonym in this case. I didn't know that before.)

The kicker, or second part of the phrase, is an established saying (that is the point of saying the phrase), but it is also a pun! Layers upon layers of cleverness.

Here is another one. 一百天不拉屎 - 坚持不懈 (yi1 bai2 tian1 bu4 la1 shi3 - jian1 chi2 bu4 xie4) "Not [going No. 2] for 100 days - perseverance without rest" (The kicker - 坚持不懈 - means 'perseverance without rest,' and is an established phrase sometimes used when referring to revolutionary gung-ho-ness. But here, the last character in the phrase, 懈 (xie4, 'to rest') and 泄 (xie4, 'to drain, or evacuate (the bowels)' are homonyms. Get it?

Not all are scatological of course. Those are just more immature and thus more easily understood by yours truly. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of WFI phrases. Sometimes they are fairly straightforward (and more directly translatable):

2) "You're like a dog catching mice - not minding your own business"
狗咬耗子 -- 多管闲事 (gou3 yao3 hao4 zi -- duo1 guan3 xian2 shi4) You know, because catching mice is the cat's job, so the dog is getting all up in the cat's business.

3) "A mute eating Chinese goldthread - can't express your troubles."
哑巴吃黄莲 — 有苦说不出 (ya1 ba1 chi 1 huang2 lian2 - you3 ku3 shuo1 bu4 chu1)
The plant Chinese goldthread (黄莲) is really bitter, and "eating bitterness" refers to troubles or problems in Chinese.

4) "A monk living in a cave - no problem."
老和尚住山洞 -- 没事。(没寺)(lao3 he2 shang zhu4 shan1 dong4 - mei2 shi4 (mei2 si4) )In this case, "no problem" (没事 mei2 shi4) sounds like "no temple" (没寺 mei2 si4) which is the pun. The monk lives in the cave cuz he's got no temple, but it sounds like 'no problem.'

This one is interesting too, because as we saw before, sometimes different-toned characters can be taken as homonyms (like with 'wet' and 'recognize' in #1) but here, we have what I like to call "regional consonantal elision." (Just made that up) In some parts of China phonemes like "shi" and "chi" are pronounced without the "h," so like, "si" and "ci." In Taiwan, for example, they will say "ci1 fan4," (eat) and "ci2 hui4" (vocabulary) whereas in Beijing they will say "chi1 fan4" and "ci2 hui4."

OK last one.

5) "Zhang Fei throwing a chicken feather - has great strength but difficulty implementing things"
张飞扔鸡毛--有劲难使 (Zhang1 Fei1 reng4 ji1 mao2 - you3 jing4 nan2 shi3)
This is an example of a literary/historical WFI phrase. Zhang Fei is a character in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms (also a real general). He had legendary strength and skill, so him throwing a feather is like yeah, he could put all his strength into it, but it really would not accomplish much.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Water bears in Spaaaace!

[Note: This has little to do with Chinese or translation, just was interesting to me.]

The other day I read all about these weird creatures called tardigrades, also known as "water bears." [OK, there is some Chinese in this post: water bear = 水熊 (shui3 xiong2) ] They are microscopic invertebrates who have eight legs with little claws and look like strange, alien gummi bears. They also have a sweet skill called "cryptobiosis," where in extreme environments they dry up into little balls, called "tuns," and their metabolism slows to 0.01% of its normal rate.

I was reading a study today about an experiment where these German and Swedish scientists put a bunch of tardigrade tuns onto a spaceship and exposed the water bears to the vacuum of space and strong UV radiation. They brought them back to Earth, and most of them survived and were able to reproduce after being rehydrated.

What captured my interest was 1) the way these things look (see photos) and 2) the fact that they can survive in space unprotected. Altho it is important to note that the water bears are not actual "extremophiles" since they do not "live" in extreme environments (preferring to live in drops of water on moss leaves), but they can survive extreme conditions.

PREDICTION: Someday people will be injected with water bear genes and will be able to dry up, get launched into space at near light speed and wind up on a habitable planet 6,000 years later, rehydrate and begin partying.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Beijing Dairy Air - the origin of "niu bi"


My most successful (in terms of views) posting so far was the one about the Chinese saying "jia you" (let's go!). In that entry I mentioned another, more infamous Chinese exclamation: "Niu bi!" (牛屄 niu2 bi1, pronounced "nee-yo bee"). This phrase is interesting for a number of reasons.

1) It is used as a cheer, but also an exclamation meaning "awesome," or "fantastic."

2) It literally means "cow [bad word for genitalia]."

3) The real character for "bi1" is so graphic and profane that almost nobody uses it. The substitute character most often used is "逼", which is a homonym for the other word but actually means "to compel." Another substitute is the Roman letter "B." [If you search Google for each of these combinations, the real phrase (牛屄) yields about 31,000 results. The second, euphemistic, 牛逼 comes up with 3 million, and "牛B" gives up about 5 million results.]

4) It's origin is an enigma, surrounded by riddles, shrouded in mystery. (You know, like Russia)

5) I will now attempt to explain, for the first time ever, the history of this colorful and bizarre phrase for the Western audience.

Theories abound online about the origin of the phrase. It is worth mentioning that there are two versions of the expression, with slightly different meanings. The first is as I described above, 牛屄, niu bi, meaning great or awesome. The second version is 吹牛屄 (chui1 niu2 bi1), which literally means "blowing the cow ****." This means "to boast or brag." You can also just say "chui niu," blowing the cow, which also means to brag. What the hell, you might ask. The prevailing theory is that 吹牛屄 (chui niu bi) is actually a corruption of the less-dirty 吹牛皮 (chui niu pi2), which also means to boast (lit. "blowing the cow skin"). The parables I found on Chinese search engine Baidu that make *the most sense* (they are still weird) are as follows:

1) The Boastful Butcher

Long ago (and still today) after a butcher slaughtered a sheep or a pig and drained all the blood out, the butcher would cut a small hole in the animal's leg, near the foot. They would insert an iron pipe into the hole, and blow into the pipe until the carcass was fully inflated. This made it much easier to skin the animal, and with just a light touch of the knife the skin would come right off. This was called "blowing the pig" or "blowing the sheep." If you do this to a cow, it is called "blowing the cow." But, butchers rarely used this method on cows, because the cow's body is so large, and its skin is tough, and there is little fat under the skin. So to inflate an entire cow carcass in this manner would take an incredibly strong diaphragm and super-powerful lungs, so only an extraordinary person could do it. So whoever says they can "blow the cow (吹牛 chui niu)" is 99.9999% "blowing the cow!"

2) Crafty Rafters

According to experts' research, the Chinese expression "blowing the cow skin" comes from the upper reaches of the Yellow River. As the river flows through the provinces of Qinghai, Gansu, Ningxia and Shaanxi, the waters are fierce, the waves are hazardous and piloting boats is difficult. In ancient times, when bridges were not so developed, the people on the shores had to figure out how to deal with the difficult problem of crossing the river. So they came up with the idea of using leather rafts instead of boats. Until the 1950s, before trains had reached these areas, leather rafts were an important transport tool for the people living along the upper reaches of the Yellow River.

The basics of a leather raft are as follows: During slaughter, the butcher would remove the skin of a sheep or a cow as one piece. Then they used salt water to remove all the hair, spread plant oil on the four limbs and neck, soaked it in water, and dried it in the sun. After it became soft, they sewed it up with a thin cord to make a sealed bag, leaving just one small hole. After it was blown up the hole was sealed and several of these leather bags were linked together with wooden boards, and thus a raft was created. And in those days, there were no pumps so the only way to inflate these rafts was to use your mouth. A sheep skin was pretty small and you could just blow it up. But even with the sheep skin, it took a lot of lung strength to do it. But a cow skin was too big, and it could not be done by using your mouth only. So, along the upper Yellow River, if someone said he could blow up a cow skin raft, he was considered a braggart. The people there, not tolerant of boastful words, would say to those who bragged about themselves: "If you really have what it takes, go down to the river and blow up a cow skin! (吹牛皮 chui niu pi), " So, over time, "blow the cow skin" came to mean brag or boast.

---

Eventually the phrase was altered by Beijingers and the dirty part was added to connote extra vehemence when deriding a braggart. Then, the 吹 (blow) part was dropped and the last part, cow ****, was left and came to mean totally awesome.
Ah, Language. What a bizarre and twisted mistress you are.
Some other theories from Web forums:

"Some say that because a niu bi is pretty big, “niu bi” has the meaning of surpassing the ordinary. I think this makes sense, and submit it to the reader for consideration."

"The phonetics of the word were corrupted. 'Pi' was changed erroneously in Beijing to the similar sounding and oft-used word, 'bi.'"

"Beijingers have always been clever and inventive and full of humor. Maybe they thought that “pi” was too boring and abstract. Why would you blow a “pi”? Let’s blow the cow “bi”! This song is offered as evidence:

If you want to blow 'niu bi,'
First climb the West Drum Tower.
Buy a leather pipe
Aim at the 'niu bi'
Use a little effort,
And the cow will roll its eyes"

You decide!

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Do old words ring true?

Chinese film director Zhang Yimou directed the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics this year. I could definitely see his influence, especially in the closing ceremonies, where they had the multi-colored banners flying up to look like the torch. The guy loves large swathes ot textiles for some reason, and they appear in many of his films.

Almost 10 years ago, I interviewed Zhang for the magazine "Beijing This Month" (Feb., 1999). In the interview I asked him if he thought he was an "international figure." At that time he had directed the movies "Raise High the Red Lantern" and "To Live," and "Red Sorghum." He had directed other films, but those were known to the West (in a limited capacity). At the time, he replied:

"I don't really think I am 'internationalized.' First of all, I can't speak English. I only speak Chinese, so it's not convenient to go abroad. My main activities are all in China."

Now, with the international success of his films like "Hero" and "House of Flying Daggers," and of course his work with the Olympics, the most international of all events, he might say differently. (I don't know if he has learned English yet.)

I was sifting through that old interview, and found a quote that I thought was kind of intriguing, based on some of the controversies centered on the Olympics. His quote was in response to a question about his being criticized for showing an unpleasant part of Chinese history, for example in "Raise the Red Lantern." That film is about a woman who becomes a concubine of a landlord in 1920's China. Some Chinese critics were saying that he only shows negative things about China and panders to Western audiences. So he said:

"China is very interesting... You know, 'Donkey sh*t is shiny on the surface.' [驴子屙屎外面光 lv2 zi e4 shi3 wai4 mian4 guang1] The Chinese traditional mentality is to dress up and present a beautiful side to everybody. People are not always willing to face reality."

In terms of language, with his donkey analogy, Zhang was using a mode of speech known as 歇后语 (xie1 hou4 yu3), or "wait-for-it phrases." That's not the real name for them, but they are pun-like phrases often used to express satirical ideas. I remember in school in Nanjing one classmate did a presentation on these types of sayings. His comparison was with an English language dis: "Your sister is like a door knob -- everybody gets a turn." The online dictionary mdbg.net defines "xie hou yu" as a "stable figure of speech contrasting two incompatible parts, such as English 'snowball's chances in hell.'"

I call them "wait-for-it phrases" because you say the first part, e.g. "A donkey takes a sh*t ---" and then say the punchline (wait for it....) "--shiny on the surface." (I think I will dedicate my next post to wait-for-it phrases. Stay tuned!)


In more profound terms, consider Zhang's words in light of the singing girls Yang Peiyi and Lin Miaoke. Yang was considered not perfect-looking enough to be in the ceremony, so Lin was substituted and lip-synched while Yang sang in the background. Then there is the gymnastics team. Who knows if they are 16 or not? But it seems like they are, so that is very important.

And then there is the entirety of the Olympic complex and the renovation of the city. Millions of people were displaced to make room for the buildings -- which are amazing, no doubt about that. The real thing to look for is what will happen from now on, now that the games are over? Will the shiny surface of Beijing be worn away to expose mere donkey dung, or does the city have new substance now that it has been the star of the biggest international show on the planet?