I’ve been in this routine before. I’ve been asked to speak in Chinese. I use Chinese to converse every day without a
second thought. But to offer a formal
presentation in Chinese before one hundred people sharpens the focus as to what
a compromised effort this might unfold into. “It would be great if you could do it in
Chinese.” No pressure. I know though that there are way too many
technical words that I do not know in Chinese.
Lay them out. I’ll try to memorize
them. But time is tight and this will
be done at the expense of buttressing the core concepts in English.
On the morning of the event I got a cabbie that seemed to
know where we were heading. North, on
Jing Mi Lu, we’re en route to the satellite town of Shunyi. I was typing and editing and not paying
attention as we passed the turn off to where I’d lived in 1999. Someone texted. Someone called. When I asked how much longer he replied:
“five more minutes” once, twice and then a third time. My colleague called frustrated
that I’d been five minutes out for twenty minutes now. The driver sheepishly confirmed that he’d
screwed up. I was too distracted
preparing for this talk to really care. The extra time was a boon.
And it all went all right. I stood up and I explained what I could in
Chinese. And then I went to
English. When I could I dove hard in
Chinese once again, until I couldn’t and found my self saying “you know it’s
like this, sort of.” And then I’d shift to English. This made for a rather cacophonous
presentation. I looked out and
considered my audience. They were
nodding. I was smiling. They got the bits that were important.
And when I was done, I sat and relaxed, as much as one can
sitting there in front of the room with eighty-eight people staring at your
back. I wrote some things down. Made a real bathroom run. Later made a fake bathroom run out from the
subsequent next presentation that was hard to follow. I tried to absorb the feeling of being
done. For a few hours at least I could savor
this after glow.
Thursday 4/20/17
Thursday 4/20/17
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