Gotta learn both
Or, why learning to read Chinese is twice as hard as you might think. Here’s part of the label on the back of the power adapter for my girlfriend’s laptop (Taiwanese model):
This adapter is made in China. So maybe you’d expect it to be labeled in simplified Chinese. On the other hand, it was sold in Taiwan, so maybe you’d expect it to be labeled in traditional Chinese. You’d be wrong either way: it’s labeled in a seemingly random mix of both!
On the top line, for example, you have five characters 电源转換器. The first character, meaning “electricity,” is simplified (traditional would be 電), though it’s one of the many simplified characters that’s also widely used in Taiwan. The next character is the same in both forms. The third one, meaning “to turn,” is definitely simplified; the traditional version is 轉. But the very next character, meaning “to exchange,” is definitely traditional. In simplified it would be 换 instead of 換.
It gets more random than that, though. See the text to the right of “Made in China”? The second-to-last character, meaning “to manufacture,” is simplified: 制. The traditional form would be 製. And you don’t have to look far to verify that: you will find the traditional version on the very same label (second line from the bottom, left side). Even for the same character, they couldn’t decide which writing system to use!
Which brings me to the title of this post. If you’re learning Chinese as a foreigner, you pretty much have to learn both forms of the writing system. Not a pleasant fact — there are enough characters to memorize already, even in just one form — but it’s pretty much what you’re stuck with.
So far I’ve encountered exactly one instructional item that treats learning both character sets as a primary goal rather than (at best) an optional exercise for especially ambitious students: an oldish computer program called “Easy Chinese.” But that program is so deeply flawed in most other respects that it’s hard to recommend more than halfheartedly. It’s easy to understand why most books don’t throw a bunch of extra work at beginning students, but it’s also a shame because (I can say from experience) it’s discouraging to go out into the real world and have little idea how to read words that you’ve already learned in the other form.
Still, I suppose I shouldn’t complain. It just means that this “learning Chinese” hobby of mine will last me that much longer! It’s like a bunch of hidden levels in a video game or a director’s commentary on a DVD: more entertainment value for my language buck. Or something.