learning Cantonese

Cantonese is spoken 90% of the time in the Lui household. In fact, I'm pretty certain that it's only spoken when I enter the building, but much like whether or not the light turns off in the fridge, I won't ever be able to know for sure.

So it's unsurprising that his parents are pleased with my faltering attempts to learn Cantonese.
Hon's dad does his best to convey his stories and wisdom to me in English, but it's a challenge for sure. His mother is better, but she's also much more comfortable in Canto.

Hon is encouraging this as well, teaching me all sorts of colloquial things to tell his dad. Tonight's was "Lai hai jok-hoc." I can't remember Hon's half-translation of this (you are a rice scoop?), but it's supposed to mean: you are Chinese Chinese. Hon, on the other hand is 'jok-sing' which translates literally to that thin, papery residue that forms on the walls of your rice cooker. It implies that you're somewhat Chinese, but not really authentic. Hon's dad was pleased--despite the fact that I called him the wrong one at first.

The majority of the words that Hon's family has taught me revolve around food. If I hear "sek" followed by an unfamiliar word, I know we're about to eat something. Usually something unknown and often untranslatable. I know choi, fan and fun (veggies, rice and noodles). And tonight I learned my meats.

The useful things usually come from Pimsleur.