Peking Duck Fusion

Yesterday a Beijing cabbie asked me which part of CHINA I come from:
"You sound like you're from the South," he said. "Guangzhou?"
Nope. OK - so I AM Cantonese, technically.
"Fujian."
Nope.
He went on with a couple more provinces and finally guessed Singapore when I told him to guess a country.
But yay! He didn't think I was a banana! PROGRESS! This is big deal for a CHIJ girl - a school that created fear and hopelessly among Chinese teachers - our Chinese was so bad. And where a friend of mine who got an A in Chinese hid it from everyone else.
That afternoon, I was able to tell another cabbie which route I wanted him to take (4th Ring Road - it's further but faster). And believe me, they don't speak English.
I guess after three weeks here I SHOULD sound less rough around the edges, and I found myself writing an address for the cabbie in Chinese, I'd seen it so many times in tiny type on the guidebook. And I surprised myself by using a colloquial phrase to respond to someone who wanted to exchange pins.
My Chinese is no where near some of my Beijing colleagues' English. One of them half jokingly said I was OK for a foreigner. Maybe if I stayed here longer I'd be passable.
But the point is this - learning Chinese now seems a lot easier than when I was in school. It's not because I have to, I don't. All my work is conducted in English.
I think we put so much pressure on kids in school that learning isn't fun anymore. It's just something we have to do - like eating cod liver oil - the barf-inducing liquid kind, not the capsules. We'd probably go further if we took ourselves less seriously.
It's like my highschool social studies teacher told me: Don't let academics interfere with your education.
My Chinese was hopeless till I went to grad school and in Washington DC, I dated a Taiwanese IP lawyer. The next time my Chinese improved was when I went to New York and had a Beijinger for a colleague two-desks down.
Neither of my Chinese skill spikes happened in Asia. Go figure.