I'm not sure how one would calculate the number of illiterate people in the world, but since I'm in a country where I can't read, write or speak the language, I should probably be included in the figure.

Even a basic task, such as turning on an air-conditioner and making it supply a steady breeze of warm air, is difficult. Sounds fairly simple, but with a remote control with seven buttons, all in Chinese, it's not that easy. Frequently I find myself standing in a cold room with freezing fingers trying to figure out if I need to press the symbol that looks like a house with a missing wall, three times, or was it the one which looks like an alien walking a dog, two times.

Luckily, the frustration normally keeps me warm. I've even checked the Internet for help but there are no websites called "deciphering-Chinese-airconditioners.com", "westerners-and-Chinese-airconditioners-hand-in-hand.org" or "Chinese-airconditioners-for-dummies.com."

Another challenge is staying with a host family who speaks no English. Fortunately, I've got two sheets of paper with Chinese letters to show them. One says "May I have dinner early today?" and the other, "I will not be home for dinner today." I was considering a prank on the English girls who also live here, but having them give our lovely host family a note saying, "May I have the big goldfish from the aquarium for dinner today - preferably fried well on both sides?" - was simply too cruel.

Sometimes my attempts at communicating fail just slightly. I was ordering a roast duck and wanted to say something to the extent of "hot delicious roasted duck please." But since I have no control over how to pronounce the different words, I ended up saying I wanted a duck that is "cold, vacuum packed and wrapped in leaves." At least that's what I got; nevertheless, it was lovely.

But luckily, there are frequently English translations to help us Chinese-illiterates, although since the languages are so fundamentally different it sometimes gives peculiar results. Like one brochure I read describing a monk, who, after practising Buddhism for 75 years, "got into nirvana." Why it took him so long to realize that a Seattle band had some groove, I don't know.

While traveling around the spectacular Chinese countryside I stayed in a hotel room with a mysterious button that read, "Do Not." Does it warm up the room? Does it shut down a nuclear power plant? Does it start a third world war? After much research it turned out to be turning on a light outside my door that read, "Do not disturb." How boring.

On the same trip I saw an honest sign outside a cable car ticket office which said tickets were cheaper in the "dull season." Street signs constantly remind me that, "In order to keep fit no spitting please" and "No throwing garbage everywhere." A bar had the comforting name "Noproblembar" and the neighboring establishment was proudly named "Promising Restaurant."

But before I get accused of making fun and being disrespectful of another culture, I have to point out that it's really me who's the butt of the jokes as I stumble around with lack of direction, irregular appearance, and a pathetic grasp of the Chinese language. People point and laugh at me all over the place.

But it's all good fun. There's nothing you can do except smile, wave back, keep a humorous perspective on the world, and enjoy experiencing another culture - despite being illiterate in the midst of a tremendously exciting "dull season."

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