'The ovary and digestive gland of a crab digs up the cabbage' and other menu conundrums in China

As you browse through a menu in China, sometimes courteously translated for you into a version of English we all fondly know here as Chinglish, imagine savouring “ants climbing the tree” or “seafood custard”. (“Ants climbing the tree” is tasty, spicy fried vermicelli with finely chopped pork; I haven’t tried the seafood custard.) Either you haven’t the faintest clue what is going to arrive because of all the poetic possibilities, or it is too much information, to wit, “dried duck’s blood with preserved egg”. Or is it really too much information?

The “civilising” effects of human society have distanced us from the world we apparently live in. Food is so packaged and processed we no longer can bear the thought of what goes on in a slaughterhouse while we munch on a grilled pork chop with apple sauce. The key word is “pork”; we don’t call it pig when we eat. That reality, when it comes to most red-blooded animals, has been denied and displaced by a different word. We don’t eat sheep, we eat mutton; we don’t chew cow or cattle, we chomp on beef. We don’t tear at calf, we dine on veal. It’s not deer, it’s venison. And we don’t nosh “dead-pig-left-dripping-in-the-smoking-house”, we eat bacon, one of my favourites. But in China, you often get what you get, not what you deny. For example, “the large intestine and bean curd cooked in water” is pretty much calling a spade a spade instead of an exhumating utensil.

I have taken the menu item “The ovary and digestive gland of a crab digs up the cabbage” from an article written by John B Wood which recently appeared in one of China’s two English newspapers, The China Daily.

Sadly enough, Wood is calling for the complete eradication of Chinglish from China. I heartily disagree and, having taken a straw poll with other ex-pats in Shanghai, they concur. Some would think I should ask the Chinese, but they don’t care or just laugh: the signs come first in their language and are perfectly clear to them.

Chinglish is often sheer poetry or bluntly brings you back into the real world, which is a kind of poetry. For example, in Shanghai, instead of “tastefully” calling it the Proctology Centre, you are left in no doubts about the purpose of the “Anus and Intestine Hospital”.

Another delightful bit of Chinglish John Wood takes to task is the sign outside a posh restaurant, “No enter with dishevelled”, which he wishes to reduce to the banal, boring, “Proper dress required”. Chinglish opens up the possibilities of language to bring us back to reality or to push back the boundaries of the sayable. John Wood seems to wish to McDonaldise the English language, reduce it to shallow-speak. That much is apparent in the Maoist or Orwellian title of his article: “Smash Chinglish – Now”. Hell, no!

Chinglish is an increasingly fragile species. Inscribed in Chinglish are two vastly different histories and cultures desperately trying to come to grips with each other and their intertwining has produced what foreigners and Chinese call Chinglish. Chinglish is exuberantly hospitable and is winsomely determined in its attempt to communicate … something. And I am not trying to arrogate from a “superior culture”, as some of my readers say I do.

I would just hate to live in a China where I cannot marvel at the semantic possibilities of signs like “Don’t forget to carry your thing”, which can be found in taxis in more remote areas. Then there are condoms with the brand name “Damage”, or at least there used to be. I assume the condom manufacturer got the idea for his brand from the raunchy Jeremy Irons film with the same name. And what about “After First Under On Do Riding With Civility”, which can still sometimes be found on mainland busses? The sign is trying to tell you to let passengers off first, but it sort of comes across as a request to have sex courteously. Which one should.

A lot of people still do not wash their hands after going to the loo, research has shown. This is why restaurants in many countries, by law, serve wrapped peppermints to customers after a meal. This is because research revealed traces of urine on the unwrapped mints. I really prefer China’s forthright signs in public toilets: “Salute to the tourists who keep the public hygiene” and “Wash after relief”. The signs are in your face, really get your attention and remind you to consider others by giving your hands a brisk wash.

The Chinglish signs are an endearing, endemic part of China’s character. Chinese people who speak English also laugh at them. Laughter is the best antidote for all sorts of ills, which, of course, the extremist PC Brigade would fail to understand.

However, I do have to agree with John Wood that we need to understand what public signs are saying in China. I propose the following. For the purpose of preserving a quaint cultural heritage, have each sign in Chinese, Chinglish and correct English. So signs should read like this:

“If you would like to join us, rubbish will never be homeless,” followed by “Don’t litter.”
And “When you are getting off with your lover, pay attention to your bag!” can be followed by the oh-so-prim, “Beware of pickpockets”. But with regard to the vet hospital about half an hour from where I live, the “Naughty Family Animal Clinic”, I don’t think we should try and improve on that one. A bit of mischief is good for the soul.

Even make the Chinglish signs smaller, but don’t take them away. As it is, China did her best to eradicate all the Chinglish signs from Beijing before the Olympics, thus impoverishing us all. But I have had it solemnly sworn to me that one species of Chinglish survived the Olympics in some Beijing hotels and hostels: “You are invited to take advantage of the chamber maid”.

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(Note: A book with photos of Chinglish signs is available, called Chinglish; found in translation compiled by Oliver Lutz Radtke, published by Gibbs Smith, www.gibbs-smith.com. In his book the author sought to record as many of these signs as possible before they disappear. Who votes aye for the “Save Chinglish Club”?)