This is the day I start, seriously, to learn Chinese, and I’m scared. I am really not sure I can do it. This is a tough admission, because I speak Spanish fairly well, and can converse a little in French and Italian. I can read those three languages and also some German. Linguistically, you see, I’ve always been confident and felt quite adept. But Chinese is different.

If you saw my car and my desk at home, though, piled with different programs, two-tape sets and big CD collections, you might think I had already started learning Chinese. I’ve spent many driving hours listening to these tapes and CDs. But the sum total of my language skill is little more than it was after a couple weeks in China: “Good day” and “Thank you.” I recognize some words now, but most go into my head and then vanish. (Interestingly, the word for “restaurant” stuck.)