Yep, indeed. It’s no longer just America that’s entitled to be “the Beautiful”. The Chinese Shanzhai variant, Emerica, has equal rights for that…
I can only hope that the United States doesn’t sue this Shanzhai company — you’ll render it bankrupt under any chapter in a matter of seconds…
Taken in Beijing
Somehow, I’m sold that Beijing still hasn’t gotten its orders right. As I learnt it the right way in Switzerland, we’re to start with the 1st carriage, then the 2nd, 3rd and 4th… then the 5th, 6th, 7th and onward.
As you can see below, someone’s got the order wrong. We’re not sure why they decided to stick in Guihua Secondth Road on the thing (or is it the Secoth Road?)…
Obviously, it’s that final bit of precision that’s mission.
I’ve seen worse: I’m on a train now where I just caught a glimpse of a road sign going on about RAINY AND FOGY WEATHER… fogy weather…
What It Should Read: Guihua 2nd Road
Taken in Fangshan, Beijing
I’ve slipped in some Chinglish and now y’all are all slipped!
Probably this sign carries a bit of “wishful thinking” in that it “wishes” upon those who read it — a quick slip — so that you’re on the floor reading this.
Either that, or they got the tense and the grammar wrong.
What It Should Read: CAUTION! SLIPPERY FLOOR
Taken May 2011 in Beijing
OK, then get me out of here! I’m stuck… in a place where I can neither pull nor push a — freakin’ door!
This bit of classical Chinglish finds itself on a folding door. It’s unique in that it can’t be “operated” like a regular door. You’ve got to pull a little handle or “fold” the thing.
Worst still is where they decided to stick the thing. In the toilets. Just when your butt’s about to explode, you have to get through these first. The result is a huge stink and the stuff that I can’t blog here about — on the floor.
I’d favour the ones on the train where you push a button to open the door, then push another one to close it and then let go of your lobster that your stomach had a kernel panic on…
What It Should Read: CAUTION: FOLDING DOOR
Taken May 2011 in Beijing
My wife and I had a field day during our first Carrefour adventure. The Chinglish was just awesome. Let’s just go through a few…
- Check Points: Null problemo…
- Good condition of the window: OK, like no scratches or stuff…
- Trolley in anti-device kept: Here’s where it looks a tad odd… What on earth is, say, an anti-device? An anti-tank device?… And how the heck you do stick a trolley in that thing?
- No trouble maker outside: No traitors, no cheaters, no con men, no members of banned “evil royal fetish” cults, and definitely no roaches. Am I right? Or just how do you define a “troublemaker”?
- Patrol Equipment Don’s touch! Hey, get Patrol Don here. He’s supposed to give his touch of blessing on the thing!…
What It Should Read: Check Points
1. Window in good condition
2. Trolley safely stowed; anti-theft devices in working order
3. Proper order outside the store
Patrol Equipment – Do Not Touch!
Taken August 2011 in Beijing
To do Chinglish right in a car park, not only do you have to roll up the ramp slowly, but you also have to — ramp slowly.
As in — make the ramp thingy a verb…
Either that, or it probably means that it is a slow ramp. Aaargh… Too bad if you’re in a rush. You’re being told to ramp slowly!
What It Should Read: Slow Down on Ramp
Taken August 2011 in Beijing
Uhh, yeah… and while I might have sympathies for those who unfortunately are vision impaired, at least I can fully well see that this thing that the label’s clinging onto is a vegetable.
It doesn’t look like anything else. Like, say — oh well, this being a David Feng blog — a train ticket.
The thing is, what kind of a vegetable is this? There are loads of them. I’m picking a few off my favourites list: broccoli, cauliflower… carrot? (My wife’s always in the kitchen. I’m no cook!)
Rather than being vague (and making the expats store Jenny Lou’s look odd), the label might grow a little extra brains and tell folks what the heck the thing is — oh wait. That looks like spinach…
So say it’s spinach! On the label…
What It Should Read: Vegetable
Taken summer 2011 in Beijing
The cartoon police has dictated that the three things in blue type are prohibited!
The language police has also decreed that the presence of obnoxious Chinglish ought to be prohibited!
When the cops mix the expatriates with magnets — foreignets — they either think of the drug dealers off Sanlitun coming in as a magnet for weirdness and criminal acts — or they might have just pulled this one wrong as a typo.
I’m pleased to be a law-abiding foreign magnet (“foreignet”), though. And I hope every last “foreignet” can be one as well. Including the drug traffickers. Even Enimem said it pretty well… short ‘n’ snappy: DON’T DO DRUGS.
What It Should Read: Foreigners
Taken June 2011 in Beijing
Beijing’s Subway Line 4 is amongst one of the less Chinglishier lines for the simple reason that Honkers (folks from Hong Kong) are running the show. Being a former British colony, it’s little surprise that fellow HK folks can pull off English with the least bit of Chinglish — apart from the occasional Honkish Shroff (the cashier’s in a parking lot)…
Sadly, the Beijing MTR has failed to make Line 4 totally Chinglish-free. Right at the former southern terminus, Gongyixiqiao, is this bit of Chinglish by Exit D, pointing you to the City Avnnue.
C’est pas exactement French here, I might want to add. It’s not English either. Guess what: It’s Chinglish!
What It Should Read: City Avenue
Taken May 2010 in Beijing
Neither my wife nor me do any dog — for food. The reason is simply: No same homo sapiens would dare set our teeth on the most faithful creature to mankind — dogs.
And while my wife is a seafood freak, her more Swiss-conservative husband is so conservative that he wouldn’t even think of feeding on rabbit, available in many a Swiss supermarket.
Which is why the idea of an Animal Restaurant doesn’t quite work out here. We’re not vegetarians, but still, when yours truly thinks of a potential “Animal Restaurant”, he imagines either a room full of packed, crammed animals in cages, a supermarket of dead animals you buy and then eat, or worse.
Taken February 2010 in Beijing