I reached a bottom recently, one made from the title of this entry. This last week has possibly been the worst in terms of work since I got here almost a year ago. I haven't been overly busy or boringly underworked, it's just that my schools seemed to have forgotten that I don't speask Japanese.
I was told when I got out here that one of the main problems JETs report is that their schools don't tell them things. I already gave some examples below of what this has meant for me. But after I wrote that entry, it continued. One school (Hikawa again) rang me up at 6pm on Thursday and asked me for a piece of work we'd agreed on Wednesday that I'd present to them the next Tuesday. Seems they had forgotten that, and wanted the next day. Again, when I told them I hadn't done it there was this ominous silence on the other end of the line, like I just told them I'd killed a student. I really had to bite my tongue to stop myself going on a rant.
I also bit the bullet and said I'd try and get it to them tomorrow but I had exams to give all morning in my second school so I'd try and get it to them by lunch. No deal, they needed it by third period. Fine, so I say I'll try and get it in before third. However, it seems over the course of the 2 minute conversation they have changed their minds and need it NOW, not tomorrow but within the next ten minutes. I make several hand gestures that probably would have got me fired had I done it in the staffroom.
Eventualy the teacher on the other end gies me an email and I say I'll get it to them ASAP. Which I do. Or would have done had, you know, the email address they had given me worked. I gave up.
Anyway, other than my schools being arses the weather has been pretty rough recently. It's been raining for the past few days and the humidity has gone through the roof. It's not even that hot, but the air is so thick it's like taking a gulp of milk everytime I breath in. Urgh.
I bought a Nintendo DS Lite while under extreme Peer Pressure. Not that I'm not happy that I did, it's a great little console and very cheap for what it is. There's three of us with them now and I must say Wireless Mario Kart Multiplayer is absolutely fantastic. Reminds me of the Uni when me the rest of 10b Cumberland road would gather for regular bouts on Mario Kart Double Dash.
Fun times.
EDIT: Seems I can't get that video to align properly. Bugger...
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Confusing
My base school have been messing me around somewhat of late. Nothing serious as yet but still, they’re not being very helpful.
First there’s the extra lessons. I am, according to my schedule supposed to do 6 lessons a week. This week I’ve done at least 8. What’s most annoying is that they ask if I can go to these lessons about 10 minutes before they start. Normally this would just be an imposition but recently I’ve been genuinely busy and these unplanned lesson excursions are really digging into my work time.
Thing is, they do ask. It’s not like I have to go to them. Saying no though sends a clear message, and it’s not a good one. Then again, if they keep calling on me I’m going to have to tell the truth and tell them I’m busy.
Then there’s the exams. At my second school they informed me exactly when the exams will be and what they want me to do about them. At Hikawa though, I haven’t a clue. One of my teachers keeps hinting that she wants me to write the Interview test but doesn’t seem to want to come out and say it. So far I’ve played the innocent and only done exactly what she’s asked of me. Now however the exam times are drawing closer (I think) so I suppose I’d better ask her outright.
Finally there are what I’ve come to called the Amazing Changing Classes. Some days lessons are switched round. Say I have a class in the 3rd period. That class may get switched to 6th period. It gets worse when I have more than one class a day (ie, everyday); the class I was supposed to have in 4th period is now in the 2nd and the class I was to take in the 6th period (“plenty of time to prepare!”) is now in the 1st (“oh bollocks”). This shuffling appears to be completely random and the only predictable aspect is the fact that it will happen regularly.
What’s even worse is that no-one tells me about them. Today for example, I was supposed to have two lessons, one in the 3rd period and one in the 6th. Now the 6th period lesson was done yesterday thanks to that day’s Amazing Changing Lessons so I naturally assume that I will have only the one class today. That was my first mistake. My second mistake came when I popped to the shops at the end of first period/beginning of second. I needed a prize for the 3rd period class so I went to the local supermarket (5 mins away) and got a bag of sweets. I return to find a cryptic note on my desk “Please come to classroom 103”. So I do, ten minutes into second period. I innocently ask the English teacher within what she wants with me and am greeted by a look of absolute confusion.
“You don’t have a class now?”
“No, I only have one class today, in 3rd period.”
“Oh.” Confused look. “I was told you had this period with me…”
Turns out that because I had a lesson yesterday that I was supposed to have today, they added an extra lesson on to today’s schedule without telling me. Fine, fine, that should mean that I would indeed have the two lessons I was originally supposed to (before I completed one of them yesterday) and this would mean I would have my original schedule of one 3rd period class and one 6th (leaving out the fact that this would mean I would have an extra lesson this week…). But no, it seems that all 6th period classes are being done in 2nd period today for whatever reason, and no-one thought to tell me that a) I actually had two classes today and b) one of my classes had been moved from 6th to 2nd period.
Confused?
First there’s the extra lessons. I am, according to my schedule supposed to do 6 lessons a week. This week I’ve done at least 8. What’s most annoying is that they ask if I can go to these lessons about 10 minutes before they start. Normally this would just be an imposition but recently I’ve been genuinely busy and these unplanned lesson excursions are really digging into my work time.
Thing is, they do ask. It’s not like I have to go to them. Saying no though sends a clear message, and it’s not a good one. Then again, if they keep calling on me I’m going to have to tell the truth and tell them I’m busy.
Then there’s the exams. At my second school they informed me exactly when the exams will be and what they want me to do about them. At Hikawa though, I haven’t a clue. One of my teachers keeps hinting that she wants me to write the Interview test but doesn’t seem to want to come out and say it. So far I’ve played the innocent and only done exactly what she’s asked of me. Now however the exam times are drawing closer (I think) so I suppose I’d better ask her outright.
Finally there are what I’ve come to called the Amazing Changing Classes. Some days lessons are switched round. Say I have a class in the 3rd period. That class may get switched to 6th period. It gets worse when I have more than one class a day (ie, everyday); the class I was supposed to have in 4th period is now in the 2nd and the class I was to take in the 6th period (“plenty of time to prepare!”) is now in the 1st (“oh bollocks”). This shuffling appears to be completely random and the only predictable aspect is the fact that it will happen regularly.
What’s even worse is that no-one tells me about them. Today for example, I was supposed to have two lessons, one in the 3rd period and one in the 6th. Now the 6th period lesson was done yesterday thanks to that day’s Amazing Changing Lessons so I naturally assume that I will have only the one class today. That was my first mistake. My second mistake came when I popped to the shops at the end of first period/beginning of second. I needed a prize for the 3rd period class so I went to the local supermarket (5 mins away) and got a bag of sweets. I return to find a cryptic note on my desk “Please come to classroom 103”. So I do, ten minutes into second period. I innocently ask the English teacher within what she wants with me and am greeted by a look of absolute confusion.
“You don’t have a class now?”
“No, I only have one class today, in 3rd period.”
“Oh.” Confused look. “I was told you had this period with me…”
Turns out that because I had a lesson yesterday that I was supposed to have today, they added an extra lesson on to today’s schedule without telling me. Fine, fine, that should mean that I would indeed have the two lessons I was originally supposed to (before I completed one of them yesterday) and this would mean I would have my original schedule of one 3rd period class and one 6th (leaving out the fact that this would mean I would have an extra lesson this week…). But no, it seems that all 6th period classes are being done in 2nd period today for whatever reason, and no-one thought to tell me that a) I actually had two classes today and b) one of my classes had been moved from 6th to 2nd period.
Confused?
Photos
Quite a lot's happened since last time I wrote, too much to describe in words. As the saying goes, a picture speaksa thousand...
Hannah in Kagoshima during our whirlwind tour of Kyushu.
Mum and Dad in Aso. They look a little too happy.
Some rocks. Somewhere is Aso.
Kyoto. Some sort of temple there.
Me in Kyoto. Another temple there.
Genuine 18th century samurai armour. Price? £15k
Me, in Gion. Where the geisha live.
Dad calls this the "duck train." Bless 'im.
Engrish bollocks.
Bye bye!
Hannah in Kagoshima during our whirlwind tour of Kyushu.
Mum and Dad in Aso. They look a little too happy.
Some rocks. Somewhere is Aso.
Kyoto. Some sort of temple there.
Me in Kyoto. Another temple there.
Genuine 18th century samurai armour. Price? £15k
Me, in Gion. Where the geisha live.
Dad calls this the "duck train." Bless 'im.
Engrish bollocks.
Bye bye!
Commitment
Well, going off Greenham's (http://www.getjealous.com/getjealous.php?go=jonnygreenham) example, though I might try and start this thing up again.
His is much better.
His is much better.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Phases
I tend to go through phases of updating my blog like mad and then phases of not updating it at all. Oh well, enjoy it while it lasts me hearties.
So, what’s going down? Not a whole lot, as per usual. Got some boring document stuff to sort out at the mo and that’s taking up the majority of my time. Managed to find out about car insurance for the Sally replacement I have my eye on; it may actually be cheaper, even though the car is a 2.1 litres sports car. This is because the plan I’m on now is one of the more expensive ones, covering every eventuality with a whole load of money. I fully intend to downgrade the plan, which will more than make up for the increase in price due to engine size. Anyway this means that, assuming neither Sally nor the new version break down before the switch is to be made, I should be buying this new one in July.
(Quick edit: just after I wrote this I got a reply to my email stating the above from the person who owns the car. Looks like it might not be as sorted as I'd thought. Will let everyone know as I'm sure you're all fascinated.)
Other than that the number of lessons I’m taking a week has completely dried up. For the past 2 days I’ve had none and spent the day reading various books. Rather dull.
However, I’m going snowboarding on Friday so am really looking forward to that. Never done anything like this before so it should be an…ahem…experience. I’ll take my camera and try and gets some shots of snowy Hiroshima. That’ll mean I’ll have been to both of the atomic bomb cities. Weird.
After that: March is one of the few months where I get choseibi. I went into these in my Nagasaki entry but basically I’m not allowed to work more than 20 days a month, so if there are more working days than that I get them off. In this case, by taking the 2 choseibi and placing them strategically around a national holiday and a weekend, I get a 5 day holiday in the middle of the month. Nice. Then it’s my birthday, for which plans are amazingly miniscule. 22. Weird.
Then Hannah is coming over in April for a few weeks, then the parents after that. Exciting.
So, what’s going down? Not a whole lot, as per usual. Got some boring document stuff to sort out at the mo and that’s taking up the majority of my time. Managed to find out about car insurance for the Sally replacement I have my eye on; it may actually be cheaper, even though the car is a 2.1 litres sports car. This is because the plan I’m on now is one of the more expensive ones, covering every eventuality with a whole load of money. I fully intend to downgrade the plan, which will more than make up for the increase in price due to engine size. Anyway this means that, assuming neither Sally nor the new version break down before the switch is to be made, I should be buying this new one in July.
(Quick edit: just after I wrote this I got a reply to my email stating the above from the person who owns the car. Looks like it might not be as sorted as I'd thought. Will let everyone know as I'm sure you're all fascinated.)
Other than that the number of lessons I’m taking a week has completely dried up. For the past 2 days I’ve had none and spent the day reading various books. Rather dull.
However, I’m going snowboarding on Friday so am really looking forward to that. Never done anything like this before so it should be an…ahem…experience. I’ll take my camera and try and gets some shots of snowy Hiroshima. That’ll mean I’ll have been to both of the atomic bomb cities. Weird.
After that: March is one of the few months where I get choseibi. I went into these in my Nagasaki entry but basically I’m not allowed to work more than 20 days a month, so if there are more working days than that I get them off. In this case, by taking the 2 choseibi and placing them strategically around a national holiday and a weekend, I get a 5 day holiday in the middle of the month. Nice. Then it’s my birthday, for which plans are amazingly miniscule. 22. Weird.
Then Hannah is coming over in April for a few weeks, then the parents after that. Exciting.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Whoops...
Oh Christ, sorry!
I have fallen somewhat behind with this blog. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. Don’t try to defend me please, it’s my own fault. No…no I won’t hear you talk about yourself in that manner. I don’t mind if you didn’t notice, I should have updated more regardless. Anyway, you are forgiven.
So, Cambodia then. Seems like a good place to start. I actually wrote a journal while I was over there, but so far it has failed to have taken the leap from page to screen. This is the small amount I did manage to type up:
Cambodia travel journal:
December the 23rd.
Siem Reap. I am reliably informed that this translates as “Siam Defeated” or somesuch. Of course, the first wildlife I see is a Siamese cat sniffling for food. Today was a quiet day, mainly due to us landing here at gone 10pm. After what could euphemistically be called an uneventful flight we arrived at an airport roughly the size of the average Next menswear department and greeted with all the hospitality of a small button mushroom. After being herded through the Visa queue ($20!) and customs line we emerged into the night to be greeted by several grinning taxi drivers. Taxi drivers aren’t supposed to grin. They’re supposed to complain about Margaret Thatcher or how they’ve had Gaby Roslin’s gynaecologist in their cab. These ones appear neither to bear any Poll Tax grudges nor know what a gynaecologist is. They were happy. Inviting even. Our guesthouse was supposed to pick us up from the airport but are a no-show. The smiling cabbies have their day. We picked the least bedraggled and made our way to his car. A Toyota Camry. Remember this, it will become important later on. “$5!” he chimed. What a nice man.
7 minutes later and we arrive at the guesthouse. The staff wear “OMG WTF!?!” faces and bluster around the padlocked gates. The cabbie is still smiling as he claims he told us $5 each. The guesthouse has no record of our booking. Our bags are heavy. We pay the taxi driver with $7 and a scowl, we press ourselves onto the guesthouse staff and we barge our way into any rooms they have going. One double and a single. That was the plan. One double and a double will have to suffice.
Inside. Not the Ritz. Not the Hilton. Not even the Trave linn. More like the cabin. Any cabin. On an allotment. I check the bathroom; windows with no glass and bug nets riddled with deceased beasties. The taps work. The showers works and, thank god, the flush works. I decided to unpack the essentials; pajamas, iPod, notebook and pen mosquito repellent. Early night so I tuck the bug net in around the surprisingly cushy mattress and settle down to an evening of Queen.
December the 24th: Christmas Eve.
Wake up far too early. Listen to iPod again and go for a shower. Take the iPod off first though. Obviously. Turn the handle, the water still runs. Lovely. Step under. Step out again rather quicker. Cold. No visible way to heat the stream of water so grunt and bear it, it’s hot out anyway. It’s uncomfortably cold, like lying naked on an upturned filing cabinet, but still, it feels better to be clean. Water off, soap out, wash hair. Rather an impressive lather going so I play the stylist. Mohican. Dickensian. Dracula. My imagination wasted I decide to finish. Turn the handle. More cold water. Or rather, not. No water of any temperature. Turn the knob again. Nothing. Turn the tap. A rattling, a grumbling, but no water. Bugger it.
I consider my options;
1: Get dressed, hair still resembling a Mohawk, and request the use of the others’ bathroom
2: Spit in a glass and use that.
Not much choice really until I notice the bottles of drinking water lovingly sprawled across a desk. It’s a shame to waste them but it’s better than looking like a creamy Mr T for the rest of the day.
Finish up shower and go for breakfast.
It was pretty much downhill from there*. I’ve stuck a few photos on anyway.
So, has anything happened since? Not really. I now have 3 fewer lessons a week than I did last semester, 4 if you count the fact that my mountain school haven’t needed me for about a month now. This obviously has left me with quite a bit of spare time. What have you done with it? I hear you ask. Well not update my blog obviously.
Oh, and my car broke down, something to do with the spark plugs. Anyway, the mechanic type bloke told me that there was no point fixing it properly as something else would probably breakdown in tandem and render it all a bit silly. Hmm. Apparently my little car (christened “Sally” in an arcane ritual that I will not delve into here) has about 6 months left to live.
L
Oh well. I’ve already begun the hunt for Sally v2.0 and have a few promising leads. Will elaborate when I know more.
Other than that…well Hannah is coming over in April and the folks (you know who you are) are heading over in May. My plans remain the same; to come home at Christmas. That is, if I can afford it; turns out cars aren’t as cheap over here as I was told.
Anyway, I shall leave for the moment but believe me when I say I shall think of little else but this blog for at least the next 2 minutes.
*Just kidding, it was great.
I have fallen somewhat behind with this blog. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. Don’t try to defend me please, it’s my own fault. No…no I won’t hear you talk about yourself in that manner. I don’t mind if you didn’t notice, I should have updated more regardless. Anyway, you are forgiven.
So, Cambodia then. Seems like a good place to start. I actually wrote a journal while I was over there, but so far it has failed to have taken the leap from page to screen. This is the small amount I did manage to type up:
Cambodia travel journal:
December the 23rd.
Siem Reap. I am reliably informed that this translates as “Siam Defeated” or somesuch. Of course, the first wildlife I see is a Siamese cat sniffling for food. Today was a quiet day, mainly due to us landing here at gone 10pm. After what could euphemistically be called an uneventful flight we arrived at an airport roughly the size of the average Next menswear department and greeted with all the hospitality of a small button mushroom. After being herded through the Visa queue ($20!) and customs line we emerged into the night to be greeted by several grinning taxi drivers. Taxi drivers aren’t supposed to grin. They’re supposed to complain about Margaret Thatcher or how they’ve had Gaby Roslin’s gynaecologist in their cab. These ones appear neither to bear any Poll Tax grudges nor know what a gynaecologist is. They were happy. Inviting even. Our guesthouse was supposed to pick us up from the airport but are a no-show. The smiling cabbies have their day. We picked the least bedraggled and made our way to his car. A Toyota Camry. Remember this, it will become important later on. “$5!” he chimed. What a nice man.
7 minutes later and we arrive at the guesthouse. The staff wear “OMG WTF!?!” faces and bluster around the padlocked gates. The cabbie is still smiling as he claims he told us $5 each. The guesthouse has no record of our booking. Our bags are heavy. We pay the taxi driver with $7 and a scowl, we press ourselves onto the guesthouse staff and we barge our way into any rooms they have going. One double and a single. That was the plan. One double and a double will have to suffice.
Inside. Not the Ritz. Not the Hilton. Not even the Trave linn. More like the cabin. Any cabin. On an allotment. I check the bathroom; windows with no glass and bug nets riddled with deceased beasties. The taps work. The showers works and, thank god, the flush works. I decided to unpack the essentials; pajamas, iPod, notebook and pen mosquito repellent. Early night so I tuck the bug net in around the surprisingly cushy mattress and settle down to an evening of Queen.
December the 24th: Christmas Eve.
Wake up far too early. Listen to iPod again and go for a shower. Take the iPod off first though. Obviously. Turn the handle, the water still runs. Lovely. Step under. Step out again rather quicker. Cold. No visible way to heat the stream of water so grunt and bear it, it’s hot out anyway. It’s uncomfortably cold, like lying naked on an upturned filing cabinet, but still, it feels better to be clean. Water off, soap out, wash hair. Rather an impressive lather going so I play the stylist. Mohican. Dickensian. Dracula. My imagination wasted I decide to finish. Turn the handle. More cold water. Or rather, not. No water of any temperature. Turn the knob again. Nothing. Turn the tap. A rattling, a grumbling, but no water. Bugger it.
I consider my options;
1: Get dressed, hair still resembling a Mohawk, and request the use of the others’ bathroom
2: Spit in a glass and use that.
Not much choice really until I notice the bottles of drinking water lovingly sprawled across a desk. It’s a shame to waste them but it’s better than looking like a creamy Mr T for the rest of the day.
Finish up shower and go for breakfast.
It was pretty much downhill from there*. I’ve stuck a few photos on anyway.
So, has anything happened since? Not really. I now have 3 fewer lessons a week than I did last semester, 4 if you count the fact that my mountain school haven’t needed me for about a month now. This obviously has left me with quite a bit of spare time. What have you done with it? I hear you ask. Well not update my blog obviously.
Oh, and my car broke down, something to do with the spark plugs. Anyway, the mechanic type bloke told me that there was no point fixing it properly as something else would probably breakdown in tandem and render it all a bit silly. Hmm. Apparently my little car (christened “Sally” in an arcane ritual that I will not delve into here) has about 6 months left to live.
L
Oh well. I’ve already begun the hunt for Sally v2.0 and have a few promising leads. Will elaborate when I know more.
Other than that…well Hannah is coming over in April and the folks (you know who you are) are heading over in May. My plans remain the same; to come home at Christmas. That is, if I can afford it; turns out cars aren’t as cheap over here as I was told.
Anyway, I shall leave for the moment but believe me when I say I shall think of little else but this blog for at least the next 2 minutes.
*Just kidding, it was great.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Normal service will be resumed;
In two weeks when I get back, including the ending part of my Christmas Tale. Whoops, sorry about that.
Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone and have a great new year!
Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone and have a great new year!
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Non-fiction
Before I go to Cambodia, I have decided to weave (and indeed spin) you a tale of Yuletide merriness. It may involve Roger. It may not. Read on dear viewer, read on…
A log fire burns brightly in the half, the occasional spark rocketing through the thick air to land on the perilously flammable horse-hair rug nearby. The gentle tinkle of sleigh bells drifts through the windows, themselves adorned with snow ready to drop. The air, tinged with the scent of elderberries and chestnuts, plays through the room in wafts almost visible to the naked eye. The sound of excited children occasionally filters through the atmosphere, bringing a slight smile to the elderly relative sitting comatose in an armchair so soft it almost swallows him.
All of a sudden the sealed door bursts open and a father like figure appears. He complains loudly about the Christmas tree lights being wonky and proceeds to the uprooted shrub of a centre piece and jiggles the said lights until they either fall off, short circuit, or fall off and then short circuit. The elderly relative sleeps through all this, having saturated himself with brandy several hours before. A motherly type appears, takes one look at the shouting father figure, screams that she has a headache and takes to the stairs. A silhouette not dissimilar to that which a younger brother might cast appears and grunts that he is going out and taking the car. The father figure screams a rebuttal but is ignored.
Meanwhile, a figure strides purposefully down the stair, a gleam in his eye and a fiver in his pocket. Ignoring the arguing brother, he uplifts the carkeys and heads for the door. He must be quick, twill be but a moment until his deception is uncovered. Heaving open the ivory portal to the outside world, he hauls himself into the freezing maelstrom that lies beyond and heads for his stately chariot. With the work of a moment he is inside; the engine rumbles and begins its night’s work. A quick press of a pedal and he is at the gate, awaiting his turn on the road.
Suddenly from behind, a cacophony of anguish. The younger brother, arms aflail and voice raised, is charging forthwith towards the escaping vehicle. A panic chills the heart of our hero even further as he desperately searches for his opportunity to fly. Alas, dear reader, none has come and in the distance lies an unending column of headlights and speed. Is this the end already? Will the unruly brother triumph in this battle of wills?
...
Oooh, I’m a tease.
A log fire burns brightly in the half, the occasional spark rocketing through the thick air to land on the perilously flammable horse-hair rug nearby. The gentle tinkle of sleigh bells drifts through the windows, themselves adorned with snow ready to drop. The air, tinged with the scent of elderberries and chestnuts, plays through the room in wafts almost visible to the naked eye. The sound of excited children occasionally filters through the atmosphere, bringing a slight smile to the elderly relative sitting comatose in an armchair so soft it almost swallows him.
All of a sudden the sealed door bursts open and a father like figure appears. He complains loudly about the Christmas tree lights being wonky and proceeds to the uprooted shrub of a centre piece and jiggles the said lights until they either fall off, short circuit, or fall off and then short circuit. The elderly relative sleeps through all this, having saturated himself with brandy several hours before. A motherly type appears, takes one look at the shouting father figure, screams that she has a headache and takes to the stairs. A silhouette not dissimilar to that which a younger brother might cast appears and grunts that he is going out and taking the car. The father figure screams a rebuttal but is ignored.
Meanwhile, a figure strides purposefully down the stair, a gleam in his eye and a fiver in his pocket. Ignoring the arguing brother, he uplifts the carkeys and heads for the door. He must be quick, twill be but a moment until his deception is uncovered. Heaving open the ivory portal to the outside world, he hauls himself into the freezing maelstrom that lies beyond and heads for his stately chariot. With the work of a moment he is inside; the engine rumbles and begins its night’s work. A quick press of a pedal and he is at the gate, awaiting his turn on the road.
Suddenly from behind, a cacophony of anguish. The younger brother, arms aflail and voice raised, is charging forthwith towards the escaping vehicle. A panic chills the heart of our hero even further as he desperately searches for his opportunity to fly. Alas, dear reader, none has come and in the distance lies an unending column of headlights and speed. Is this the end already? Will the unruly brother triumph in this battle of wills?
...
Oooh, I’m a tease.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Home
Again, starting to miss home a bit. A lot actually, both home and Leeds. Like I said before, Christmas doesn’t feel the same out here. So yeah, I’ll probably be going home next Christmas. A bit like Chris Rea, the cheeky bugger.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Cambodia
Planning this trip has been a nightmare. And it’s not like I’ve done any of the actual organising. Just getting the associated vaccines, equipment etc has taken me ages and cost me a small fortune.
I’ve now finally got them done, sort of. Anyway, it cost me 20000yen (about £100) for one injection and some malaria medication, although hopefully I’ll be able to recoup some of that from my medical insurance. I’ve now found out of course that I need a hiking backpack. I should really have thought of this as for most of the trip we’re going to be mobile. Hopefully one of the JETs in Yatsushiro has one, I don’t fancy spending another £100 on a backpack I’ll rarely, if ever, use. Looks like January might have to be quite cheap…
It just keeps getting colder. It’s absolutely freezing for the majority of the day now. Luckily all my class and staffrooms are heated but even moving between them is a chore it’s so cold. Of course, the worst is still at my house. I now have my little electric heater on almost constantly so am dreading getting the electric bill. However, that’s a rather short range solution (I usually shove it under my desk so at least my legs are warm) so I’ll be busting out the big kerosene heater tonight. I don’t trust theses things as everyone says you should leave the window open while they’re on to disperse the fumes. But, won’t that sort of defeat the point in the first place? I’ll stick mine on anyway and if you don’t see anymore blogs for a while you can assume the worst.
The hot water bottle I got sent from home works too, but I seem to have burnt my hand on it last night. Well, I woke up with what I assume to be a burn on my hand. It hurts too, but it’s better than being so cold you can’t feel anything.
Anyway, here's something we can all enjoy.
First person to guess which body Tim has chosen to inhabit wins the internet.
I’ve now finally got them done, sort of. Anyway, it cost me 20000yen (about £100) for one injection and some malaria medication, although hopefully I’ll be able to recoup some of that from my medical insurance. I’ve now found out of course that I need a hiking backpack. I should really have thought of this as for most of the trip we’re going to be mobile. Hopefully one of the JETs in Yatsushiro has one, I don’t fancy spending another £100 on a backpack I’ll rarely, if ever, use. Looks like January might have to be quite cheap…
It just keeps getting colder. It’s absolutely freezing for the majority of the day now. Luckily all my class and staffrooms are heated but even moving between them is a chore it’s so cold. Of course, the worst is still at my house. I now have my little electric heater on almost constantly so am dreading getting the electric bill. However, that’s a rather short range solution (I usually shove it under my desk so at least my legs are warm) so I’ll be busting out the big kerosene heater tonight. I don’t trust theses things as everyone says you should leave the window open while they’re on to disperse the fumes. But, won’t that sort of defeat the point in the first place? I’ll stick mine on anyway and if you don’t see anymore blogs for a while you can assume the worst.
The hot water bottle I got sent from home works too, but I seem to have burnt my hand on it last night. Well, I woke up with what I assume to be a burn on my hand. It hurts too, but it’s better than being so cold you can’t feel anything.
Anyway, here's something we can all enjoy.
First person to guess which body Tim has chosen to inhabit wins the internet.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Annoyed.
For the first time this job has really started to piss me off.
It’s exam season at the moment and I have been in the process of making various tests for about 2 weeks now. I was told I may have to do this so I wasn’t really all that bothered by it. A bit of extra work sure, but I wasn’t planning lessons anyway due to the study periods everyone has.
I got pissed off yesterday when I faxed over my draft of the listening test script I’d done to my second school. A few hours later I get an ominous telephone call asking me to come over (I was at my first school all day) and “discuss” it.
When I got there me and the three JTEs sat around a table and I was handed a copy of my computer printed script. Well, what was left of it, which was basically the title and the space for the student to put his name. There was so much red marker on the damn thing it looked like a referee had misplaced all of his red cards in one place, and that place was on top of my work.
Honestly, they had changed everything. From sweeping changes of the format to tiny little nitpicks changing individual words (“Take a right” to “Turn right”). For the next ten minutes, although they tried to hide it, we went through what I had done wrong and why it was wrong. The students don’t know this word; this is too complicated; this isn’t complicated enough.
Why, I was asking myself through all this, did they ask me to do the test at all if they had such a specific result in mind? Everything on that paper was somehow erroneous. And what was all this about the students “not knowing” certain words…it’s a test! A listening test no less where the students have to sift the correct answers from a stream of information, most of which is irrelevant to the questions. I didn’t know half the words in my French listening tests but I still got good marks. What’s the point in a test where the students know everything?
It wasn’t just that though, it was the little things. In one telephone conversation I’d put in a throwaway comment, another red herring that the students would have to dismiss. “How embarrassing!” it went. They spend a good few minutes deciding whether the students could understand “embarrassing”. It doesn’t matter if they can! There were no questions that addressed the emotion of being “embarrassed”, it was simply a line to give the script a bit of realism as well as being, as I’ve said, a red herring. But no, they couldn’t understand that and we spend a good long time umming and erring over it.
And the True or False questions. We had done True or False in my introductory lesson. I know this because I was there. You know, asking True or False questions. However, even though it was eventually decided the students could understand “embarrassing” as they did it 6 months ago, the True or False answers, which we did 2 months ago were scrapped, replaced by other multiple choice questions. What? Surely these were the easiest questions? You have a 50/50 chance of getting the damn things right. No, they had to go. Why? It was never explained to me. Maybe the word “True” sounds like a Japanese swear word or something, because it certainly wasn’t because of the difficulty.
I came away fuming with silent rage that the test I had worked a whole night on had been replaced with one that the other teachers obviously had in their minds from the start. Why ask me to do a test, with no further instructions than “It must have a maximum of 40 points to award”, if you already have one you want to give?
I’m hoping this sort of thing doesn’t happen too often. I’m new to this teaching game and they seem to expect me to know the ropes like a seasoned professor. Most of the time this job is OK, not enjoyable per se and certainly lacking in job satisfaction, but OK nevertheless. I sincerely hope this sort of thing isn’t going to appear until next test time, when I have no doubt it will happen all over again…
It’s exam season at the moment and I have been in the process of making various tests for about 2 weeks now. I was told I may have to do this so I wasn’t really all that bothered by it. A bit of extra work sure, but I wasn’t planning lessons anyway due to the study periods everyone has.
I got pissed off yesterday when I faxed over my draft of the listening test script I’d done to my second school. A few hours later I get an ominous telephone call asking me to come over (I was at my first school all day) and “discuss” it.
When I got there me and the three JTEs sat around a table and I was handed a copy of my computer printed script. Well, what was left of it, which was basically the title and the space for the student to put his name. There was so much red marker on the damn thing it looked like a referee had misplaced all of his red cards in one place, and that place was on top of my work.
Honestly, they had changed everything. From sweeping changes of the format to tiny little nitpicks changing individual words (“Take a right” to “Turn right”). For the next ten minutes, although they tried to hide it, we went through what I had done wrong and why it was wrong. The students don’t know this word; this is too complicated; this isn’t complicated enough.
Why, I was asking myself through all this, did they ask me to do the test at all if they had such a specific result in mind? Everything on that paper was somehow erroneous. And what was all this about the students “not knowing” certain words…it’s a test! A listening test no less where the students have to sift the correct answers from a stream of information, most of which is irrelevant to the questions. I didn’t know half the words in my French listening tests but I still got good marks. What’s the point in a test where the students know everything?
It wasn’t just that though, it was the little things. In one telephone conversation I’d put in a throwaway comment, another red herring that the students would have to dismiss. “How embarrassing!” it went. They spend a good few minutes deciding whether the students could understand “embarrassing”. It doesn’t matter if they can! There were no questions that addressed the emotion of being “embarrassed”, it was simply a line to give the script a bit of realism as well as being, as I’ve said, a red herring. But no, they couldn’t understand that and we spend a good long time umming and erring over it.
And the True or False questions. We had done True or False in my introductory lesson. I know this because I was there. You know, asking True or False questions. However, even though it was eventually decided the students could understand “embarrassing” as they did it 6 months ago, the True or False answers, which we did 2 months ago were scrapped, replaced by other multiple choice questions. What? Surely these were the easiest questions? You have a 50/50 chance of getting the damn things right. No, they had to go. Why? It was never explained to me. Maybe the word “True” sounds like a Japanese swear word or something, because it certainly wasn’t because of the difficulty.
I came away fuming with silent rage that the test I had worked a whole night on had been replaced with one that the other teachers obviously had in their minds from the start. Why ask me to do a test, with no further instructions than “It must have a maximum of 40 points to award”, if you already have one you want to give?
I’m hoping this sort of thing doesn’t happen too often. I’m new to this teaching game and they seem to expect me to know the ropes like a seasoned professor. Most of the time this job is OK, not enjoyable per se and certainly lacking in job satisfaction, but OK nevertheless. I sincerely hope this sort of thing isn’t going to appear until next test time, when I have no doubt it will happen all over again…
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Eyebrows
I love the internet. If it were a person I would gladly throw myself at their service simply because they were so generous.
Through this technical marvel I was able to download and watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last night. True, the quality of picture wasn’t exactly stellar but it was definitely watchable. And watch it I did.
Now, I didn’t really care for the first three films. One and two were so childish as to be rather embarrassing. Three, which held a lot more promise, was let down by the refusal of the child actors to act properly, resorting to ridiculous overacting (Emma Watson’s eyebrows I’m looking at you here) or simply not acting at all (Daniel Radcliffe’s “They were my parents!” strop came off as just that, a girly tiff rather than an explosion of hatred).
This time, however, they hit the nail on the head. Goblet of Fire is by far the best of the Potter books just as this is by far the best of the films. The kids can actually act in this one, you actually sympathise with them and there are some genuinely tense moments between Harry and Ron. Hermione still overacts though.
Moody is fantastic. Brendon Gleeson is quickly becoming one of my favourite British actors and he really brings something to a character than is perhaps my favourite from the books. Alan Rickman is also mind melting good again, even though he only gets about 3 lines of dialogue this time around. The only cast disappointment is Dumbledore. I thought Michael Gambon was shaping up to be a good Dumbledore, better than the “on deaths door” version playing by Richard Harris (however ironic that sentence may be). However, in this he’s not good. He isn’t Dumbledore from the books at all; I won’t spoil it but the scene after Harry’s name comes out of the Goblet is especially bad.
Voldemort is in this one. He looks great, he really does but he lacks any real menace. In fact, he lacks any menace at all, were it not for his makeup he would’ve been less imposing than Lucius Malfoy (who makes a welcome return). His “birth” scene is great though and would’ve scared the crap out of me if I’d seen it when I was 10.
The Special Effects in general are amazing. The start of the World Cup has to be seen to be believed (as clichéd as that may be), the dragon fight is excellent stuff and the merpeople are great too. It’s the little things that set it apart from the other films though; Sirius’ firey communiqué, the Unforgivable curses realised, the various shapechanges that some characters go through are brilliant (if rather disturbing) and even the design of the Water challenge seating is fantastic. (trust me).
Most importantly however, I think Hogwarts was done justice to in this film. In the others it just felt like somewhere the story could take place in; a location. Here it feels like a community. Many of the bit parts excluded from Prisoner of Azkhaban (Neville, Seamus etc) return in this and the film finally gets across that Harry, Ron and Hermione are not the only students at their school.
Although the film is noticeably darker, both literally and in story, it was still to me the closest to its literary counterpart. True, huge chunks have been missed out (gone are most of the Quiddich World Cup, Dobby, Winky, Ludo Bagman, Percy Weasley and the House Elf liberation attempt by Hermione) but I actually didn’t miss any of them all that much (maybe apart from the world cup which we are teased with but never really shown). Despite all of these losses, it felt the same as the book; foreboding but, for the time being, optimistic.
So, very good then. I’d highly recommend it to anyone who enjoyed the book. Really, I think the highest compliment I can pay to this is that it’s the first of the films to really remind me of how good the books are, and the first time I truly thought the characters from the books had hit the big screen in full.
Through this technical marvel I was able to download and watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last night. True, the quality of picture wasn’t exactly stellar but it was definitely watchable. And watch it I did.
Now, I didn’t really care for the first three films. One and two were so childish as to be rather embarrassing. Three, which held a lot more promise, was let down by the refusal of the child actors to act properly, resorting to ridiculous overacting (Emma Watson’s eyebrows I’m looking at you here) or simply not acting at all (Daniel Radcliffe’s “They were my parents!” strop came off as just that, a girly tiff rather than an explosion of hatred).
This time, however, they hit the nail on the head. Goblet of Fire is by far the best of the Potter books just as this is by far the best of the films. The kids can actually act in this one, you actually sympathise with them and there are some genuinely tense moments between Harry and Ron. Hermione still overacts though.
Moody is fantastic. Brendon Gleeson is quickly becoming one of my favourite British actors and he really brings something to a character than is perhaps my favourite from the books. Alan Rickman is also mind melting good again, even though he only gets about 3 lines of dialogue this time around. The only cast disappointment is Dumbledore. I thought Michael Gambon was shaping up to be a good Dumbledore, better than the “on deaths door” version playing by Richard Harris (however ironic that sentence may be). However, in this he’s not good. He isn’t Dumbledore from the books at all; I won’t spoil it but the scene after Harry’s name comes out of the Goblet is especially bad.
Voldemort is in this one. He looks great, he really does but he lacks any real menace. In fact, he lacks any menace at all, were it not for his makeup he would’ve been less imposing than Lucius Malfoy (who makes a welcome return). His “birth” scene is great though and would’ve scared the crap out of me if I’d seen it when I was 10.
The Special Effects in general are amazing. The start of the World Cup has to be seen to be believed (as clichéd as that may be), the dragon fight is excellent stuff and the merpeople are great too. It’s the little things that set it apart from the other films though; Sirius’ firey communiqué, the Unforgivable curses realised, the various shapechanges that some characters go through are brilliant (if rather disturbing) and even the design of the Water challenge seating is fantastic. (trust me).
Most importantly however, I think Hogwarts was done justice to in this film. In the others it just felt like somewhere the story could take place in; a location. Here it feels like a community. Many of the bit parts excluded from Prisoner of Azkhaban (Neville, Seamus etc) return in this and the film finally gets across that Harry, Ron and Hermione are not the only students at their school.
Although the film is noticeably darker, both literally and in story, it was still to me the closest to its literary counterpart. True, huge chunks have been missed out (gone are most of the Quiddich World Cup, Dobby, Winky, Ludo Bagman, Percy Weasley and the House Elf liberation attempt by Hermione) but I actually didn’t miss any of them all that much (maybe apart from the world cup which we are teased with but never really shown). Despite all of these losses, it felt the same as the book; foreboding but, for the time being, optimistic.
So, very good then. I’d highly recommend it to anyone who enjoyed the book. Really, I think the highest compliment I can pay to this is that it’s the first of the films to really remind me of how good the books are, and the first time I truly thought the characters from the books had hit the big screen in full.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Money
As I now know some people still read this thing I have endeavoured to write in it more often. Like now.
I’ve just come out of a class that I knew I was going to dislike. As luck would have it (or not) my first class on a Monday morning is the worst that I have at Hikawa. It’s awful; they never listen, Fukuda-sensei is unable to control them and I might as well not be there. Today was different however.
Today was worse. They were just literally not acknowledging our presence infront of the class. They acted as if they had a free period and were able to do what they liked for 50 minutes. Plus they had a cat. An actual cat. More of a kitten really. I was initially torn between two decisions, telling Fukuda-sensei or just watching the kitten. It was all ginger and lovely. After a few seconds though I felt it was my duty to inform my JTE so I did and the cat was promptly escorted out of the classroom. Where it went I will probably never know. Either the office or the nearest toilet bowl.
Anyway, the reason this one hasn’t gone up as soon as I’d hoped was that I’ve been getting headaches from staring at this damn screen so much. Argh.
Today I have been looking at the Xbox 360. Mmmm. It looks nice. Tempting. Especially as I have a 28” Flatscreen TV doing basically nothing, this’d give it a nice workout.
I don’t know why I’m torturing myself, I can’t afford one anyway. Not sure if I put this up here before but I’m going to Cambodia this Christmas and it’s costing me a pretty penny. At the moment I’m surviving off noodles and cups of tea and trying to limit my expenses as much as possible. I’ve started walking to work instead of driving, am conserving any usable resource such as kitchen towels and washing up liquid and have decided, as bad as it may get, not to turn on the heaters.
Now that last one may not seem too bad until you realise that it hits about 0 degrees here at night. Well, so it does in England sometimes, I hear you shout! True, but English houses have central heating. Insulation. Thick walls. My apartment does not, being designed for the hot weather of the summer. The walls are about 3cm thick, and I have no reason to guess the ceiling is any thicker. Basically, I may as well be outside. Last night I went to bed wearing shorts, jogging pants, two pairs of socks, two t-shirts and a cardigan. I was under three sheets. I was still cold. So cold that it woke me up several times during the night. Nice.
So, you can see that keeping the heaters off is a pretty big sacrifice. BUT, I am trying to put together a nice little wad for when I come home so…I’m sure I can live with it.
Hopefully.
Anyway, on to some pictures:
Hannah and a dam. An interesting combination.
Me and some schoolgirls. An erotic combination
I’ve just come out of a class that I knew I was going to dislike. As luck would have it (or not) my first class on a Monday morning is the worst that I have at Hikawa. It’s awful; they never listen, Fukuda-sensei is unable to control them and I might as well not be there. Today was different however.
Today was worse. They were just literally not acknowledging our presence infront of the class. They acted as if they had a free period and were able to do what they liked for 50 minutes. Plus they had a cat. An actual cat. More of a kitten really. I was initially torn between two decisions, telling Fukuda-sensei or just watching the kitten. It was all ginger and lovely. After a few seconds though I felt it was my duty to inform my JTE so I did and the cat was promptly escorted out of the classroom. Where it went I will probably never know. Either the office or the nearest toilet bowl.
Anyway, the reason this one hasn’t gone up as soon as I’d hoped was that I’ve been getting headaches from staring at this damn screen so much. Argh.
Today I have been looking at the Xbox 360. Mmmm. It looks nice. Tempting. Especially as I have a 28” Flatscreen TV doing basically nothing, this’d give it a nice workout.
I don’t know why I’m torturing myself, I can’t afford one anyway. Not sure if I put this up here before but I’m going to Cambodia this Christmas and it’s costing me a pretty penny. At the moment I’m surviving off noodles and cups of tea and trying to limit my expenses as much as possible. I’ve started walking to work instead of driving, am conserving any usable resource such as kitchen towels and washing up liquid and have decided, as bad as it may get, not to turn on the heaters.
Now that last one may not seem too bad until you realise that it hits about 0 degrees here at night. Well, so it does in England sometimes, I hear you shout! True, but English houses have central heating. Insulation. Thick walls. My apartment does not, being designed for the hot weather of the summer. The walls are about 3cm thick, and I have no reason to guess the ceiling is any thicker. Basically, I may as well be outside. Last night I went to bed wearing shorts, jogging pants, two pairs of socks, two t-shirts and a cardigan. I was under three sheets. I was still cold. So cold that it woke me up several times during the night. Nice.
So, you can see that keeping the heaters off is a pretty big sacrifice. BUT, I am trying to put together a nice little wad for when I come home so…I’m sure I can live with it.
Hopefully.
Anyway, on to some pictures:
Hannah and a dam. An interesting combination.
Me and some schoolgirls. An erotic combination
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Another
Another one? So soon? Why yes.
The last one ended up being a nostalgic ramble down memory lane which is fine if you’re me. If, however, you’re someone reading this who isn’t me, it may have been a little dull.
Anyway, what have I been up to I hear you ask? Well, with Hannah having come over for the last month or so I’ve been up to quite a bit. Firstly, there was our trip to Kumamoto City. Now considering this is a place I have been to multiple times you think I’d be well prepared for such an outing. Not so. I was terrified, this being my first time in the big bad city without someone who actually spoke Japanese. Shops that had once been friendly little opportunities for hilarity were now gaping holes of anxiety. Restaurants, rather than quaint and traditional eating holes, were now giant troughs infested with aliens whose language I have little grasp on. It was odd and no doubt rather frustrating for dear Hannah who I’d confidently told that I knew what I was doing.
Anyway, the weekend passed without any major hitches (although I did choose what seemed to be the most expensive hotel in the city to lodge in) and I’m assured fun was had by all.
Next was to be Fukuoka, the capital of Kyushu Island and the biggest city for hundreds of miles. Unfortunately we had to cancel this particular weekend sojourn as Hannah was feeling ill and was shouting at me. Well, not really but she had a shouty look in her eye. Instead we went to Amakusa Islands, an area of Kumamoto which, again, I have been to several times. This was far less nerve racking and very pleasant; we went for a stroll on the coast, we ate donuts, we met up with Megan (who the more observant of you may remember is the JET I went to Nagasaki with) and had tea. Then I drove home and feel asleep as soon as we entered the house.
We did eventually end up in Fukuoka, using one of my myriad of national holiday breaks. This time I actually planned; found a hotel that was reasonable, got the train times in advance and planned our trip to a tee. And everything went well; Fukuoka was gorgeous at night, like a little Tokyo full of lights, neons and Yattai, little portable noodle shops that seemingly bred into existence at night. However, I was still too nervous to venture into any of them for fear of ordering a plate of the owner’s Mother with baseball sauce. The next day we trekked about the city marvelling at the largeness of it all. It was very large indeed.
And then Hannah went away. This made me sad. It’s still taking a bit of getting used to coming home and finding the flat empty. Sometimes, I cry. Not really, but I do play Crying by Roy Orbison (at least that’s who I think it is) on my laptop. And also Herb Albert playing Spanish Flea which makes even the saddest situations better.
And MC Hammer.
The last one ended up being a nostalgic ramble down memory lane which is fine if you’re me. If, however, you’re someone reading this who isn’t me, it may have been a little dull.
Anyway, what have I been up to I hear you ask? Well, with Hannah having come over for the last month or so I’ve been up to quite a bit. Firstly, there was our trip to Kumamoto City. Now considering this is a place I have been to multiple times you think I’d be well prepared for such an outing. Not so. I was terrified, this being my first time in the big bad city without someone who actually spoke Japanese. Shops that had once been friendly little opportunities for hilarity were now gaping holes of anxiety. Restaurants, rather than quaint and traditional eating holes, were now giant troughs infested with aliens whose language I have little grasp on. It was odd and no doubt rather frustrating for dear Hannah who I’d confidently told that I knew what I was doing.
Anyway, the weekend passed without any major hitches (although I did choose what seemed to be the most expensive hotel in the city to lodge in) and I’m assured fun was had by all.
Next was to be Fukuoka, the capital of Kyushu Island and the biggest city for hundreds of miles. Unfortunately we had to cancel this particular weekend sojourn as Hannah was feeling ill and was shouting at me. Well, not really but she had a shouty look in her eye. Instead we went to Amakusa Islands, an area of Kumamoto which, again, I have been to several times. This was far less nerve racking and very pleasant; we went for a stroll on the coast, we ate donuts, we met up with Megan (who the more observant of you may remember is the JET I went to Nagasaki with) and had tea. Then I drove home and feel asleep as soon as we entered the house.
We did eventually end up in Fukuoka, using one of my myriad of national holiday breaks. This time I actually planned; found a hotel that was reasonable, got the train times in advance and planned our trip to a tee. And everything went well; Fukuoka was gorgeous at night, like a little Tokyo full of lights, neons and Yattai, little portable noodle shops that seemingly bred into existence at night. However, I was still too nervous to venture into any of them for fear of ordering a plate of the owner’s Mother with baseball sauce. The next day we trekked about the city marvelling at the largeness of it all. It was very large indeed.
And then Hannah went away. This made me sad. It’s still taking a bit of getting used to coming home and finding the flat empty. Sometimes, I cry. Not really, but I do play Crying by Roy Orbison (at least that’s who I think it is) on my laptop. And also Herb Albert playing Spanish Flea which makes even the saddest situations better.
And MC Hammer.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Christmassy
Not doing very well with the updating of this am I. Oh well, I hope at least someone is still reading it.
I thought they didn’t have Christmas over here. I thought it was a western thing, a pleasantly commercialised ritual confined to those nations whose idea of a slap up meal is a beefburger and Doritos. Apparently not however. Since mid-October, every supermarket, grocers, general store and shopping centre has begun adorning its walls with enough tack to kill little baby Jesus and make Santa cry. The simple volume of the stuff hung up there makes you marvel at Japanese architecture and the amount of stress it must be capable of taking.
There’s stuff on sale too. Imagine, if you will, the average British bargain shop. For simplicity’s sake, lets imagine B&M bargains in Cleveleys, a vast maze of winding corridors bursting with tat. Now, lets pack it full of Japanese teenagers, all of whom are screaming at something or other. Got that? Ok. Now lets chuck in all the tackiest, noisiest, most plastic Christmas decorations you can think off. We’re talking Christmas trees with scary faces that appear out of nowhere, Santa models that blow polystyrene balls from their head as it t’were snow, Rudolphs constructed entirely out of neons which sing, for some reason, I Vow To Thee My Country. Imagine all that, and add in the shop décor we discussed above. Ok? Well you’re about halfway there.
Personally I love it. Those of you who know me quite well should also know that I love Christmas. I really do, it’s great. I love the build up to Christmas, the first Christmas adverts (usually Argos or Coke) appearing on TV. I love trying to decide on something expensive to ask for as a gift (and seeing my parents reactions when I actually do). Most of all, I love the strange feeling that everything is a bit better at this time of year. Everything is that less…serious.
My Christmas’ at Uni were a mixed bunch. I can’t for the life of me remember the first one, mainly because I was out of Horsforth as fast as my little legs could take me as soon as I could. I think the halls at Trinity and All Saints were probably the least festive place I’ve even been in my life. Claustrophobic, hospital white corridors led to tiny, cramped rooms with furniture dating back to the 70s. And not the cool, kitsch 70s; the 70s that invented paisley wallpaper and thought frilly lampshades were cool. If it were not for the people that lived there I may have been scarred for life. About Christmas.
2nd year Christmas was like most of the 2nd year…much better than the first. Had it not been for the horrible circumstances that year brought with it I have no doubt I would have enjoyed myself immensely. Infact, looking back on any period of my time at 10b Cumberland brings back pleasant memories and good times. I loved that place, and loved living there even more.
And that brings me nicely to this Christmas just gone. This perhaps is my favourite of the three, although extremely different. The last year at Uni was one of contrasts, the good with the bad. On one hand, 33 Cumberland Road was a terrible place to live physically. It was cramped, confined and promoted a separation of the people who lived there. No longer did we have communal dinners in the living room as the 33 Ebberston living room was a damp, drafty hellhole located in the basement, 3 flights of stairs away from me. The kitchen was possibly too big, and always too full of dirty washing and rubbish to congregate in. I really missed the community of 10b. However, thanks to a certainly lovely lady, I had a great Christmas period. Popping down to the Co-op for mince pies (me) and salad (her). Watching the Christmas period This Morning’s. Going to Starbucks and drinking Venti (me) and whatever small is in there (her) Eggnog lattes. All brilliant memories.
Anyway, I’m going on a bit now. I love Christmas you see. Expect more feverish festive ramblings soon.
I thought they didn’t have Christmas over here. I thought it was a western thing, a pleasantly commercialised ritual confined to those nations whose idea of a slap up meal is a beefburger and Doritos. Apparently not however. Since mid-October, every supermarket, grocers, general store and shopping centre has begun adorning its walls with enough tack to kill little baby Jesus and make Santa cry. The simple volume of the stuff hung up there makes you marvel at Japanese architecture and the amount of stress it must be capable of taking.
There’s stuff on sale too. Imagine, if you will, the average British bargain shop. For simplicity’s sake, lets imagine B&M bargains in Cleveleys, a vast maze of winding corridors bursting with tat. Now, lets pack it full of Japanese teenagers, all of whom are screaming at something or other. Got that? Ok. Now lets chuck in all the tackiest, noisiest, most plastic Christmas decorations you can think off. We’re talking Christmas trees with scary faces that appear out of nowhere, Santa models that blow polystyrene balls from their head as it t’were snow, Rudolphs constructed entirely out of neons which sing, for some reason, I Vow To Thee My Country. Imagine all that, and add in the shop décor we discussed above. Ok? Well you’re about halfway there.
Personally I love it. Those of you who know me quite well should also know that I love Christmas. I really do, it’s great. I love the build up to Christmas, the first Christmas adverts (usually Argos or Coke) appearing on TV. I love trying to decide on something expensive to ask for as a gift (and seeing my parents reactions when I actually do). Most of all, I love the strange feeling that everything is a bit better at this time of year. Everything is that less…serious.
My Christmas’ at Uni were a mixed bunch. I can’t for the life of me remember the first one, mainly because I was out of Horsforth as fast as my little legs could take me as soon as I could. I think the halls at Trinity and All Saints were probably the least festive place I’ve even been in my life. Claustrophobic, hospital white corridors led to tiny, cramped rooms with furniture dating back to the 70s. And not the cool, kitsch 70s; the 70s that invented paisley wallpaper and thought frilly lampshades were cool. If it were not for the people that lived there I may have been scarred for life. About Christmas.
2nd year Christmas was like most of the 2nd year…much better than the first. Had it not been for the horrible circumstances that year brought with it I have no doubt I would have enjoyed myself immensely. Infact, looking back on any period of my time at 10b Cumberland brings back pleasant memories and good times. I loved that place, and loved living there even more.
And that brings me nicely to this Christmas just gone. This perhaps is my favourite of the three, although extremely different. The last year at Uni was one of contrasts, the good with the bad. On one hand, 33 Cumberland Road was a terrible place to live physically. It was cramped, confined and promoted a separation of the people who lived there. No longer did we have communal dinners in the living room as the 33 Ebberston living room was a damp, drafty hellhole located in the basement, 3 flights of stairs away from me. The kitchen was possibly too big, and always too full of dirty washing and rubbish to congregate in. I really missed the community of 10b. However, thanks to a certainly lovely lady, I had a great Christmas period. Popping down to the Co-op for mince pies (me) and salad (her). Watching the Christmas period This Morning’s. Going to Starbucks and drinking Venti (me) and whatever small is in there (her) Eggnog lattes. All brilliant memories.
Anyway, I’m going on a bit now. I love Christmas you see. Expect more feverish festive ramblings soon.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Sport
As I’ve reached the end of my supply of archived blogs, I thought I’d better write a new one about what I’ve been up to since Nagasaki (which is just over a month ago now).
Firstly, I’ve started teaching with mixed results. My first ever class was actually at my second school and consisted of 41 18-year-old boys on an engineering course. You can imagine the rapt fascination on their little faces I’m sure. Needless to say, most of them seemed incredible uninterested about Blackpool and its various foibles. Even the picture of me as a peroxide blonde I’d included as a “Hey guys, I’m kerazy!” gesture failed to raise even a titter. In fact, one of them looked as if he wanted to kill me. I think his name was Steve but I may have misheard.
I had three classes the first day; the second being all boys again (slightly less disinterested and no “I’m going to stab you in the mouth” glares) and the third being all girls. As I’d expected, the girls’ class was much more interested and actually asked some questions when prompted. The fact that these questions were “Do you play sex?” and “Do you like young girls?” did little to dissuade me that I was finally doing some good work and raising the level of English in my town by a tiny, erotic fraction.
The rest of the week passed in pretty much the same vein; the classes with more boys looked comatose while the classes full of girls were giggly and rather forward. One class declared I looked better as a peroxide blonde while another said I looked like Annie Lennox. Everyone’s different it seems. I prefer the classes in my second school at the moment, mainly because of the kids themselves. They seem, if not more interested in learning then at least more courteous. Some of the classes I’ve had at my base school have been agony with the entire group looking as if they were in a free period while I was trying to speak: braiding each others hair, playing with mobile phones, crossing the class to speak loudly to a friend. Annoying. The classes here are more mixed than my second school which I thought would be good. However, it just seems to give the boys an opportunity to be macho and the girls the chance to purposefully ignore the boys being macho while talking to their friends. Hmm.
I’ve had a few sports days too. Now these are a different kettle of raw fish entirely to British ones; these things are huge. All lessons are cancelled in the week running up to the big day so the kids can prepare. Actually going to these things was certainly “an experience”. In my first one (which was my mountain school’s do) I was actually assigned to a team and forced to compete. This involved several activities that I now practice regularly in the hope of performing better next year. They were, in the order performed:
1: 100 metres sprint carrying a 20kg bag of sand (who the sand was for, I’m not sure)
2: Team rope skipping (in which I lost us the first round. These kids are all shorter than my calf so I had to simultaneously jump and duck or get hit by the rope)
3: Some weird “folk dance” (which involved, and I’m not kidding, all the teams forming circles and doing an odd Victorian era shuffle. I had to hold hands with at least 5 different young boys infront of a large baying crowd. Apart from feeling like a paedophile in an orphanage, it also started to rain. So then I was a wet paedophile. Marvellous).
The second one (my base school’s) was much bigger and I got some good photos (below) as I wasn’t forced to compete. I also got a nice shot of the Nazi salute tradition. No idea where this came from but it’s eerie to say the least. Seig hail!
I thought I’d also use the opportunity to show off just how good my phone camera is. All of those photos down there were taken with my phone. Not my digital camera, my phone. Good isn’t it? I’d upload the video I have of the Nazi ritual but I don’t think I can on my actual blog. I’ll try and find a way. Anyway, ta ta for now!
The Nazi Ritual. Eery.
The view from my mountain school and the Princple of said school
Another pic of the mountain school
Some impressive acrobatics from my base school kiddies.
Ooh look, Manga me!
Firstly, I’ve started teaching with mixed results. My first ever class was actually at my second school and consisted of 41 18-year-old boys on an engineering course. You can imagine the rapt fascination on their little faces I’m sure. Needless to say, most of them seemed incredible uninterested about Blackpool and its various foibles. Even the picture of me as a peroxide blonde I’d included as a “Hey guys, I’m kerazy!” gesture failed to raise even a titter. In fact, one of them looked as if he wanted to kill me. I think his name was Steve but I may have misheard.
I had three classes the first day; the second being all boys again (slightly less disinterested and no “I’m going to stab you in the mouth” glares) and the third being all girls. As I’d expected, the girls’ class was much more interested and actually asked some questions when prompted. The fact that these questions were “Do you play sex?” and “Do you like young girls?” did little to dissuade me that I was finally doing some good work and raising the level of English in my town by a tiny, erotic fraction.
The rest of the week passed in pretty much the same vein; the classes with more boys looked comatose while the classes full of girls were giggly and rather forward. One class declared I looked better as a peroxide blonde while another said I looked like Annie Lennox. Everyone’s different it seems. I prefer the classes in my second school at the moment, mainly because of the kids themselves. They seem, if not more interested in learning then at least more courteous. Some of the classes I’ve had at my base school have been agony with the entire group looking as if they were in a free period while I was trying to speak: braiding each others hair, playing with mobile phones, crossing the class to speak loudly to a friend. Annoying. The classes here are more mixed than my second school which I thought would be good. However, it just seems to give the boys an opportunity to be macho and the girls the chance to purposefully ignore the boys being macho while talking to their friends. Hmm.
I’ve had a few sports days too. Now these are a different kettle of raw fish entirely to British ones; these things are huge. All lessons are cancelled in the week running up to the big day so the kids can prepare. Actually going to these things was certainly “an experience”. In my first one (which was my mountain school’s do) I was actually assigned to a team and forced to compete. This involved several activities that I now practice regularly in the hope of performing better next year. They were, in the order performed:
1: 100 metres sprint carrying a 20kg bag of sand (who the sand was for, I’m not sure)
2: Team rope skipping (in which I lost us the first round. These kids are all shorter than my calf so I had to simultaneously jump and duck or get hit by the rope)
3: Some weird “folk dance” (which involved, and I’m not kidding, all the teams forming circles and doing an odd Victorian era shuffle. I had to hold hands with at least 5 different young boys infront of a large baying crowd. Apart from feeling like a paedophile in an orphanage, it also started to rain. So then I was a wet paedophile. Marvellous).
The second one (my base school’s) was much bigger and I got some good photos (below) as I wasn’t forced to compete. I also got a nice shot of the Nazi salute tradition. No idea where this came from but it’s eerie to say the least. Seig hail!
I thought I’d also use the opportunity to show off just how good my phone camera is. All of those photos down there were taken with my phone. Not my digital camera, my phone. Good isn’t it? I’d upload the video I have of the Nazi ritual but I don’t think I can on my actual blog. I’ll try and find a way. Anyway, ta ta for now!
The Nazi Ritual. Eery.
The view from my mountain school and the Princple of said school
Another pic of the mountain school
Some impressive acrobatics from my base school kiddies.
Ooh look, Manga me!
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