I think we language enthusiasts — polyglots, linguists, whatever you want to call us — all have that one turning point; that one flip-switch moment that pushes us from being just a learner, to being utterly nuts about a language.

Often, it’s a word that hits you just right. Or an idiom — a phrase so specific, it's best expressed only in that language. I have my own list of favorite Mandarin words and phrases that I shamelessly code-switch for mid-convo, because it has to be that, and nothing else will do. Period.

But my flip-switch? It wasn’t a word. Or a phrase. It was a concept.

A concept I find fascinating and kind of mind-boggling, but also refreshing, grounding, and weirdly comforting... well, you get the point. It's the idea of time and directions — how different they are, yet so intertwined. It tickles my brain in the best way possible.

And since exams are over and I’m a temporarily free bird, with nothing better to do, I thought: why not write about it?

But before I get into all that, two disclaimers: (1) I’m writing this because I just really wanted to write, and I’ve been itching to gush about this little obsession of mine to someone (or something...I guess). (2) I have no idea if the etymology of these terms actually backs up the theories I’ve assigned to them in my head — but hey, who doesn’t love a good dose of 2AM mumbo-jumbo? (I do. Hmph.)

To set the stage for everything that's about to go down, let's clear the basics — the words you'll see very often throughout this mapping, so maybe just ratta-maaro them now only —

1. shàng 上 - up

2. xià 下 - down

3. qián 前 - in front of

4. hòu 后 - behind

So, shàng qù would be "go up", and xià lái "come down". Similarly, qiánmiàn is the "side in front of" you, and hòumiàn the "side behind".

Now that that's cleared and out of the way, let's get to the actual confusion — where all sane logic says ta-ta and flies out the window. Because here's where things start to twist: those same words — shàng, xià, qián, and hòu — don’t just sit quietly in the realm of space. Oh no. They pack their bags, hop across dimensions, and crash the party in the world of time.

In the world of time, qián becomes before — the past — like in zhīqián (before this), or even better, qiántiān (the day before), and similarly, hòu also switches tactics to being after — the future — like in zhīhòu (after this) and hòutiān (the day after).

Haha! That seems like such a but-of-course, doesn't it?
No, it does not.

But — bear with me for a bit — what if we used the logic of being able to see what's in front and not being able to see what's behind? Then by that calculation, past is what we can see — because well, what's done is done — and hence the known; and future is what we can't see, and hence the unknown. Fit qiántiān and hòutiān into that totally obvious line of thought — like, how could you not think of that? 😑 — and there you have it. Something that might pass as..."philosophically sense-making"?

If you thought it ends here, at mere days — you are wrong. These time-traveling directional delinquents have ambitions. They climb higher. They go bigger.
Enter: weeks. months. *drumroll*

Now, we're getting into serious business, guys. Let's welcome to the realm, shàng and xià.
With them, we’re not just walking backwards into the day before — we’re ascending into last week, descending into next month.

Yep. Our beloved shàng, now becomes last, previous — the past — like in shàng gè yuè, or last month; and xià becomes next, following — the future — as in xià gè xīngqī, or next week.

Is there a method to the madness?
Perhapsssss... if you think of an elevator? Apply a vertical flow to time.

Say like, using a lift to go down from the 20th floor to the 1st. In which case, 20th floor would be above you, and gone, hence shàng — the past. The 1st floor that is yet to come, and down, would be xià — the future.

Now does shàng gè xīngqī, xià gè xīngqī, shàng gè yuè, xià gè yuè start to compute? Or at least sound like they could?
Even if the logic’s on a lift of its own — pun intended — but, hey, at least it’s going somewhere!

So that’s days, weeks, and months — done, dusted and directionally disoriented. What comes next in the grand spiral of time? Oh yes. Years.

If you guessed that it goes further downhill, you guessed right. And if you also guessed that there's a (bigger) catch with this next concept? I might just have to bow down to you, 'cause you're smarter than me.

There's no simple back-n-forth, ascending-descending with years. No elevator logic. None of that qián nián or xià nián business. Just ✨time✨ — stripped of its spatial metaphors.

Why, you ask?
Maybe because 'years' feels heavier? Slower? Less immediate and more long-haul? (As to why all these end with question marks, it's because I don't know the answer either —hehe. Like I said, 2AM mumbo-jumbo ;))

So what do we do? We zoom out, and go perfectly abstract and absolutely philosophical. Years — a combination of many eras, chapters, phases — which is probably why the early makers of Mandarin chose to leave elevator and steps behind, and go more...metaphysical, I guess? And also so cinematic, goddamn.

Make way for míngnián (next year), and qùnián (last year). *drumroll again*
We have two new words: míng 明, meaning bright, and qù 去, meaning go. (Remember shàngqù from way earlier? The same.)

That means, we have the bright next year — the light at the end of the tunnel and all that. And we have the gone last year — because what is gone, is gone, get over it. Poetic much? Yes. Very much. The lingustic equivalent of 'best is yet to come' and 'don't cry over spilled milk'. Motivational poster of time meets never-look-back badassery.

The only thing we haven’t touched upon yet — if you've been keeping track (gold star if you have) — is tomorrow, and his humble buddy, yesterday.

Now, we’ve already seen míng in míngnián — the shining promise of next year. So it’s only fitting that tomorrow is míngtiān — literally, “bright day.” Because of course it is. "Tomorrow is a bright new day," said every inspirational quote ever. Sunrises! Hope! New beginnings! The works.

Yesterday, though, is zuótiān. There's a new word there, isn't it? The character for zuó 昨 is 日 (sun/day) + 乍 (first/initial). So zuótiān is basically the day that came first.
LMAO, that simple. None of the earlier abstruse balderdash. Nope. Just plain, simple, first-in-first-out logic with a dash of "eh, let's just call it what it is" to pull a sneaky fast one.

And just like that, the grand directional drama of Mandarin time expressions comes full circle. From elevator rides through weeks to metaphorical light tunnels of years, and finally, a humble nod to fifo accounting — we've journeyed through a timeline that's equal parts poetic, philosophical, and straight-up deranged.

Does any of this make linear sense?
Not in the slightest.

Is it wildly, unreasonably, and almost artistically chaotic?
Yes. Very much yes.

Is it stuff like this that might explain the occasional graying strand in my hair?
Well...we don’t talk about that. Shush.

But does this chaos, confusion, and linguistic whiplash make it all the more fascinating, maddening, and strangely addictive for me?
Hell. Yes.

And — oh my god 😱 — if you’ve actually made it till here, did you just spend a perfectly good, solid chunk of your day getting sucked into a cuckoo girl’s rant tornado about time metaphors in Mandarin, written in the wee hours of the night?
Hahaha, you bet you did.

No take-backs, guys — my alopogeez. And...you're welcome. *smirks and winks*
Toodles! 👋🏻

~ r.a.w

PS: There's also this other rabbit hole — leading to Alice's wonderland — of verb complements, direction complements, potential complements, result complements, and their advance versions. But maybe another separate epistle for them, no? 🙈🤪