It's been about a month since my last class in Cantonese. Yep, I signed up for lessons.
It was not the best choice of time frame for me. My house was for sale, I was trying to figure out what I'd do if it sold, and then, as if I had been tempting fate, it actually sold just as my classes were winding down.
Now in the interest of full disclosure, these classes were two hours long, once a week for ten weeks. This was not Cantonese immersion.
Add to this the fact that there were no tests, and no real requirement to study, other than not wanting to embarrass myself at the next session, and you have a recipe for potential failure to thrive.
But in truth, we were all adults, all interested in the language, the subtleties, the nuances, the differences it represented from the languages we used prior to engaging in this course.
And so, we were diligent and dedicated, in class at the very least. Several of us worked at their studies as homework as well, though I must confess that I did not spend much time at that myself.
Still, the class was a breath of fresh air, an oasis of information from a source who, in her residence in Canada has found a way to be a bridge between two great cultures without becoming a homogenized mixture of them.
May Ip keeps her Chinese heritage like a treasured family heirloom is kept on an honoured shelf in the most important room of the house of her life.
But this heirloom is clearly not porcelain. It is bronze, polished with the touch of loving hands as she shows it to anyone who would want to see any aspect of it.
In class, we were as likely to discuss Chinese customs, the language of Mandarin, the things one would find different in travelling to China, all inspired by the lessons in Cantonese, as we were to actually study that language.
And always, a quiet pride of sharing lit May Ip's smiling face as she did her best to mold our rigid minds around the new and exciting ideas that were represented in her culture, her experiences, and most of all her language.
And in the end we did learn. We learned, and we grew, and we became better people, bigger souls, wiser human beings.
Can I speak Cantonese now? No, I cannot, though I can say a few things and possibly order a meal in a Chinese restaurant.
Was the class a success? Yes. It was a resounding success. Why? Because I set out to learn something of another culture, a little bit of its language, and I did. But I learned so much more.
No one can teach respect, but anyone can learn it if they open their mind.
I can't speak Cantonese. But I did learn.
Thank you, May Ip. You're the best.