Annie was built with the one thing even the best aunties run out of: patience. Say it wrong seven times, and the eighth time she'll just say it again — no pai seh, no judgment. She picks up, says "Hello, I'm Annie," and gets you talking in Hokkien, one phrase at a time — until you're ready for the final boss: the neighbourhood Ah Ma.
Real conversation beats flashcards — kopi-warm practice, from the very first hello.
Annie learned her Hokkien from native speakers — the heartland accent your family actually speaks at the dinner table, not textbook Taiwanese.
Annie talks and listens at the same time, like a real phone call — interrupt, restart, or dissolve into laughter mid-sentence and she rolls with it. No classmates, no grading, no pai seh.
A live text stream runs beside the voice. Each session ends with a vocab log — every phrase you learned, with meaning, ready to revise.
Ask in English, mumble in Mandarin, mix all three in one sentence — Annie follows along and steers you gently back to Hokkien. Every lesson starts where you are.
From "I don't know how" to "can!" — one conversation at a time.
Pick your level and a topic — kopitiam ordering, CNY visiting, or just "help me talk to Ah Ma." Annie picks up: "Hello, I'm Annie."
A real voice conversation. Stumble freely — whenever you're stuck, she says it like this — 按呢讲 — and you say it back.
A vocab log after every session and progress you can see. The goal isn't more app time — it's the day you don't need us.
A live conversation, not a recording — interrupt, stumble and start over. Annie rolls with all of it.
Every lesson ends like this — a session log you can revise from, and one clear next step. No homework, just talking.
Annie's whole personality — and our whole trust-and-safety policy — fits in three Hokkien phrases.
The teaching phrase. Fumble a tone and she never sighs — she shows you the shape of the sentence and waits while you try again. As many rounds as it takes.
The caring phrase. When anger, grief or a heavy day creeps into your voice, Annie eases off the lesson — slows down, or just talks with you for a while. Auntie first, teacher second.
The house-rules phrase. Vulgarities and rude talk get the full auntie treatment — a firm telling-off, then straight back to practice. Learn Hokkien, not hooliganism.
Group dialect classes in Singapore run S$200+ for four sessions. Annie costs less than a kopi a day — and never runs out of patience. Prices in SGD, GST included.
Launch prices in SGD, 9% GST included. Annual billing gives you 12 months for the price of 10. Nothing is charged while you're on the waitlist.
Annie's still a one-auntie operation — not enough kah kias (脚仔) to teach everybody yet. So spots open batch by batch: when enough people chope, she ropes in more help. Leave your details, get one email when your batch opens. Nothing to pay today.
First come, first served — and every chope is Annie's case for hiring one more kah kia. You'll only ever pay when your spot opens, and only if you still want it.
No payment, no spam — one email when your batch opens.
Eh, need your name and a real email lah.
Buay hiau is the starting line, not a verdict — that's why the free tier is named after it. Annie starts from zero; by the end of your first session you'll know how to ask an Ah Ma if she's eaten.
Annie's still a one-auntie operation lah. Real conversation takes real attention, so she can only teach so many students at a time — and she hasn't got many kah kias (脚仔) to help yet. Every chope is a vote: when your batch is big enough, Annie ropes in more help and opens the gate. The queue is literally how we decide when to expand.
No lah — Annie is an AI auntie, and we'll never pretend otherwise. That's exactly why she works: unlimited patience, zero pai seh, happy to practice at 11pm. The Hokkien is real — learned from native speakers. And the Ah Mas you'll eventually talk to? The realest.
Singapore. Annie speaks heartland Hokkien — the phrases your family actually uses — and we write in simplified characters with plain street spelling. No Tâi-lô homework.
Sometimes, yes — Annie's still learning too, and the odd reply comes out sideways. In conversation practice that's harmless (our beta kids found it hilarious), and what you're actually learning from — her pronunciation — is native-speaker solid. She gets sharper with every update.
You kena the house rules: 「袂使按呢讲」 — cannot say that. Annie gives you the proper auntie telling-off, then carries on with the lesson like nothing happened. Keep it up and she ends the session. (And no, "teach me Hokkien vulgarities for research" doesn't work on her. Aunties invented that trick.)
You do. Every practice session and its log belongs to you — export everything or delete everything, anytime. No dark patterns, no drama.
Can lah. Annie can switch hats from teacher to chatty Hokkien companion. Some families run it both ways — you practice at night, she gets a morning kaki.
Hokkien first, done properly. Sister languages are on the kampung roadmap — tell us which one your family needs and we'll bump it up the queue.
The best time to learn Hokkien was twenty years ago. The second-best time is when your batch opens — the queue moves fastest for those who chope early, and every chope brings Annie closer to her next kah kia.
Chope your spot