The Mancunian’s Guide to The Galaxy

2^nd June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

The foreign press have laid into mistranslations of recent movies such as Avengers: The Age of Ultron.  Let’s be fair English to Chinese is blooming hard.  Also, one translator, post surgery, was tasked with the work.  Liu Dayong did a job that left the Chinese audiences confused – but it has to be said?  Why does only one man do this sort of billion dollar job?  Why not have a team and some proof readers?  Mistranslated segments such as when Captain America said, “Even if you get killed, just walk it off!” have been changed into Chinese subtitles as, “If someone is trying to kill you, you should run away quickly.”  I mean that does change context massively.  It is worth noting that even the reported so-called news also has misquotes of quotes.  On one website the above film phrase has different words, “Run fast if someone tries to kill you.”  The beauty of two totally different languages and cultures means things do tend to get lost in translation.  The main thing is, it isn’t anything too important like USA-China relations or bilateral talks between Malaysia and China over the South China Seas…

 

In recent weeks, I have watched Tomorrowland and I, Frankenstein at the cinema.  Neither have been fantastic but the movie going experience here is amazing.  The pre-screening warnings and rules are starting to appear in China.  They look on the most parts, homemade, filmed in a dull basement, probably under the cinema.  At some stage this week, a look in at 末日崩塌 (this means “Doom collapse”) or San Andreas in English is required.  I’ve written about the beauties of going to the cinema here on HubHao – but would like to stress it has been edited (due to the cinema where a photo shoot was taken) having some issues with my tone of language use.  That is fine, after all I don’t want to alienate or upset anyone… especially ahead of going to see Jurassic World this month.

 

Over the weekend Murray’s FC played out an 11-5 win in roasting conditions at AcTel Tangxia F.C.’s massive football pitch.  The grass was actually too long but the game was a tough one in simmering 34°C heat and high humidity.  The game, an hour each way, with a ten minute break ended just in time for a windy violent storm to sweep through.  Afterwards, showering under a tap, positioned one metre from the ground over a trench in a homemade shower cubicle was challenging.  The cold water was a welcome treat in the warm airs of the evening.  After our team all converged on a 1500-seater cafeteria but opted to head into the town for something more delicious.  The wait within a local bar called Lulu’s was too long.  Hunger set in.  Two slider burgers and a few over-the-top burnt shrimps later and more than half of our squad bailed.  I’m not sure why Murray’s FC favour western-style food after a game.  Granted it tastes good, but with local cuisine you know the fodder is fast and always in great supply.  It is also significantly cheaper than western chow.  After hot-tailing it back to Houjie, a sleep was needed.  A late night viewing of the FA Cup Final at Irene’s Bar was not needed.  I’d correctly predicted it to be a one-sided affair earlier that day. 

 

On Sunday, good food – and a chance to write about Gigg Club and their array of Thai and Chinese curries – was had.  Monday meant all the teachers in primary school (up to grade 6, the highest age being 12 year olds) and students had the day off for Children’s Day.  Happy Children’s Day (儿童节快乐ér tóng jié kuài lè) could be heard many a time.  Meanwhile, in middle school I had my grade 8 classes, class 803 and 804.  803 have always been difficult but yesterday they were only half-difficult.  804 switched from being very good to just about good.  Both classes have dynamics that mean a quarter of the class try very hard, and to a degree don’t give the others in the class a chance to push on.  As such, the remaining students quieten up and make for a challenge.  On going round and checking with those I feel need a kick up the underside, I usually find they have capable and very good answers on the whole.  Confidence and time to deliver is something they lack.  I try, but in 40 minutes per one class every week, I’m not there enough to give them the impetus to deliver results.  Their form teachers are more than capable of this.  I suspect I was as bad during puberty, I just can’t remember if I tried too hard and suppressed others from trying… or switched off.  I guess I did a bit of both.  Who’d be a teacher?!

 

Now, I’m not allowed to discuss my contract with Worlda or mention numbers.  It is a sackable offence.  However, in the last two weeks I’ve had two summer job offers, two offers for work at a new company next semester and other part time job offers.  The thing is, I like to keep things simple.  I don’t want to work too many hours within my free time, and then I’d prefer to pursue my own interests or activities.  Within school, I like the rapport here.  It can feel one sided at times, what with the Chinese ability to do a fantastic poker face, but I have learnt, seeking feedback is for those considered as unprofessional!  With respects to self development, I look at the quality of my work one year ago and laugh.  I’m adding new dimensions, testing myself and analysing students’ responses to the material taught more frequently.  Yes, I could earn more at other schools, and I’d probably be just as happy, but I believe in loyalty and my loyalty is to pushing forward with what I have now.  Why not?  I think, come Spring festival, I’ll review my options, but for now I’m happy with my working life.  Staff like Jessie, Casey and Kimmie have made it a very pleasant place to work.  Dao Ming Foreign Language School and the staff within have always been welcoming.

 

Today, my mind has been totally switched to that moment of landing at Ringway (or Manchester International Airport) come the end of June.  I can’t wait, my bank balance will be hammered by summer but it’ll be worth it.  I have ideas and a list of things I wish to bring back.  Maybe the Mancunian temperatures would be a good starting point.  The rains here replicate Manchester very well already.  The sun inbetween is something else though.

 

Life’s road ahead may be bumpy, but I’ll have my worklife to settle me down.  It is 32°C here now.  Turn down the heat someone!

 

Want to read more about teaching?  A tad later than planned, the second teaching column is online at http://www.hubhao.com/author/john/ under the link Tips for the Classroom. Other bits shall follow at HubHao.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

我来自 曼彻斯特 (Wǒ láizì Mànchèsītè) I’M FROM MANCHESTER.

8^th June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

With the new contract signed, the Visa being applied for tomorrow, only 13 more working days, and only 3 grade 8 classes left (I finished class 803 earlier – who I am told shall miss my classes, but shown no real enthusiasm to the class we did), no more classes in grade 7… and exams only remaining… here are some of my Summer plans:

 

• Obviously, catch up with family and friends.
• Have an oven bottom sandwich with roast ham, pickles and cheese on the canal by Gran’s old apartment.  Think happy thoughts.
• See my best friend Dan, with his lady Vanessa and their bouncing criminal twins in the making.  I’m kidding, they look like future scientists/Manchester City centre forwards.
• Sell some of my old clutter and belongings.  I have too many things and not enough experiences in life.
• Cycle somewhere Lancastrian, Yorkshire-like and Cumbrian – as well as the Manchester medal factory that is the National Cycling Centre/velodrome.
• Watch some football, from pre-season friendlies to ladies football to the world’s greatest football club, Manchester City.  Maybe go and watch Maine Road F.C.
• Watch some comedy.
• See the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight and one of the Vulcan Bomber’s last flights.
• Swim in the sea!

 

List of things to bring back to China for teaching:

 

• magnetic teaching aids;
• giant snakes and ladders;
• good quality but cheap secondhand story books;
• simplistic videos or DVDs;
• more things to do with Manchester and the U.K. in general;
• prizes for games and competitions;
• extra and refreshed enthusiasm;
• wit and humour;

 

In the last hour a small to medium storm came and passed.  I was rather drenched on my return to school.  I looked soggy and rather rainswept on my return from a local corner shop.  Every time somebody comments on my love for the rain, I feel like replying “Oh, you think rain is your ally. But you merely adopted the rain; I was born in it, moulded by it. I didn’t see the sun until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but TOO HOT!”  To adapt the Bain quote from The Dark Knight Rises doesn’t take much skill.  Staying dry in monsoon rains does.

 

This weekend was spent in Shenzhen admiring the massive smelly durian fruits hanging from the trees.  If they fell, they’d kill you.  Nearby was some lychee trees with threat of 100RMB fines for each lychee taken.  I followed the rules.  They’re cheap enough in markets.  Beyond that many shield bugs, butterflies and kites were seen on this very sunny weekend that flew by.  That and the legendary single men and women part of the park (Lianhuashan park/Lotus Hill) where parents try to find their offspring partners.  I’d advise not standing still too long in the marriage market… [There’s also one in Shanghai]  You can read about their age, height, job, income, education, family values, Chinese zodiac sign, and personality – in Mandarin, Cantonese and occasionally English.

 

It is currently 32°C and I smell like a hamster cage.  If one of the teachers in my office could have an oven in here to heat his food, and a heater to up the air temperature to 45°C… and maybe a sauna style cooking pot, he would.  The good news is that next semester I shall change offices!

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

Post #CXIX: WITH THE FLOW OF FOOD

15^th June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

Last Wednesday night meant watching a massive movie on its release.  Jurassic World is a beast of a movie. It grips you in its teeth and throws you around. The film is laden with humour compatible with the original movie (and translated well into Chinese for some proper belly laughs), a soundtrack new in structure yet with shades of the emotive John Williams score and fills in with some new stories. The Lost World: Jurassic Park and Jurassic Park III didn’t need to happen – and this is a fantastic continuation to my beloved Michael Crichton‘s novel adapted into what I can safely say was the biggest movie of my childhood [alongside Ghostbusters and Gremlins]. The characters are built up perfectly and it does not pretend to be something it is not. That was what 3D cinema was made for. And, when you have Crystal, Snowy and Angel almost crying and hiding from every scene with the rest of the Chinese audience, that makes for a good night out. If you don’t like dinosaurs or mild peril, then avoid this bloodcurdling beauty! It even references the novel, but I can’t say how as that would be a spoiler.

 

Having not played football for a week and a half, my legs felt a little Jurassic.  On Saturday, we had a game in FengTai Guan Shan Bi Shui (丰泰观山碧水) – oddly the English name is mistranslated into the more marketable name of Peninsula.  This mega-apartment and leisure site (there are tennis, basketball and other sports located in the area) hugs the shoreline of the Henggang Reservoir.  The pitch costs 200RMB an hour, so two hours split between two teams made for good news on the wallet.  Water, 2 crates of it, cost around 2RMB per bottle – whilst not cool, it was certainly refreshing in the 32°C heat, magnified by humidity.  Marcelo had picked Kaka and I up from outside Tescos (where a staff strike has rendered the supermarket practically closed… it is open but has no staff, except for security staff.  You cannot buy anything).  Chris, Mikkel and Andreas joined spectators Nikki, Snowy, Angel and Crystal in taxis to the venue.  Alain with Calum and Aron arrived together.  Weng, Max, and Alekaze arrived soon after without Danish.  Danish, Leonardo and a school teacher pulled out on the day.  Rogerio (Marcelo’s dad) and Marcelina (Marcelo’s wife) came to support us.  The game finished 14-4 to Murray’s FC against QiuQi FC despite us surrendering a 2-0 lead to go 2-2 inside 20 minutes.

 

After the game rainforest showers were very pleasing (in stark contrast to a previous away game in Tangxia, where half way up the wall taps were mounted and a communal bucket was needed to douse yourself in cold water).  The pitch itself only had around a foot of space from the sidelines to the fencing but it was certainly one of the better pitches I’ve played at here in Dongguan.

 

Afterwards we all headed to the bright lights of Houjie for Mexican—Indian food at Munchalot’s.  Ray has always been a great host.  The spread was served gradually.  Indian and Maxican food mixes really well.  Burritos, vegetable kebabs, chiminchangas, fillet empanizado, potato wedges, chicken tikka, naan bread, palak paneer, mutton rogan josh, and ten side caraffes (1.25L) of Budweiser beer were enjoyed by my football team and my invited P.E. teachers.  Not bad for 100RMB per head! [Well the beer was 550RMB on top for everyone]

 

After the food, we headed down to Irene’s Bar along Yue Fan Shan Street to celebrate his birthday.  They had a barbecue on earlier that day, and Revolution played some music later on.  After this point a few busy drinks at Irene’s meant a return to Munchalots – and an early night around 2am, because I was utterly exhausted.  The constant heat here, and anything that encourages dehydration gives rise to muscle fatigue.  Sunday was pretty much a lazy day watching Marvel’s Daredevil TV series and eating Taiwanese noodles in the evening.  An evening that crept up far too soon.

 

Now, I am in my office, and soon I’ll be in class 603, finishing their oral English exam papers.  This last week has seen the exams flying by.  Students like Howard in class 607 remind me of Tim Wonnacott (Bargain Hunt presenter) or chairman Tony Bates at Aberystwyth Town F.C. in Wales.  Other students like Lucy or Amy in the same class (607) have extensive vocabularies and can converse fluently without need for prompts.  The latter student is reading the entire collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes novels, in English.  Then there are students likes Tank and Tuby who are just mischievous, but not in a bad way.  Martin, in class 603, always wants to buy candy from me, even when I don’t have sweets with me.  I suspect he has learnt more English through conversation about sweet sales than via my classes.  I’ve had some students that I’d be dubious about their ability in the spoken oral exams – yet all have performed brilliantly.  Several students from the first semester who did not do well, have bettered themselves.  There has been no need so far, to prompt students or hint at answers.  The task in hand has been clear, and the end product clearer.

 

To end post 119:  119 is the emergency number in Afghanistan that belongs to police and interior ministry.  Other countries use it to report emergencies too.  119 is also the atomic number of the theoretical element Ununennium.  119 is the sum of five consecutive primes (17 + 19 + 23 + 29 + 31).   The next post shall be post 120.  120 inches is the height of a regulation hoop in the National Basketball Association of U.S.A.  China copy that height for their C.B.A. too, but their players are mostly far smaller in height.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

With the flow of the dragon boats

19^th June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

Will I cry?  Will I miss it?  Will I want to return?  What if… but… maybe… So many possibilities.  “This city is insane; Every possibility; Nothing’s left to chance; They’re throwing rocks and pavings stones; Who says it has to last?” Doves song N.Y.  Inside 12 days, I am going home for the first time since the 11^th of February 2014.  That’s 502 days away from the U.K.  1 year, 4 months, and 17 days.  71 weeks and 5 days.  12,048 hours.  722,880 minutes.  43,372,800 seconds.  In the grand scheme of the world, a blink of an eye.  In my lifetime, a fraction (4.2%) of the 11,931 days (32 years, 8 months) I’ll have spent on this planet.

 

For HubHao, I have been busy and remain busy doing several tasks (last night I went to Liaobu).  The most recent publication is about a sport (cough, cough, I mean drinking game – or do I?) called darts.  Click to visit the article.  The introduction goes something like this:

 

“Steel tip darts has always held a special place in many of the bars in Dongguan. The introduction of soft tip darts has seen the game start to reach new places and players. John Acton sat down to chat with some of the people who have helped make darts in Dongguan what it is today.”  You can also read it in Chinese here.

 

There’s also a review of Winners Bar in Hengli (which name means horizontal drain).  In English and in Chinese.  Other articles shall follow via this link.  I’m working on pieces involving extreme cycling, restaurants where the ground moves beneath your feet and places where golf has gone a little over the top.  I also reviewed a shopping street too, mainly focused on sportswear.  Have a good read.

 

Here comes the sun… Mr Sun has arrived.  It sounds like he shall take over the duties of Cherry next semester and he strikes me as closer to how Bright was in the first semester.  He spent the best part of Tuesday afternoon exchanging ideas and visions with me.  He hails from a school in Guangdong’s Huìzhōu (惠州) having originaly graduated from Nanjing Normal University.  He was born and raised in the province of Anhui (Eastern-China).  Naturally the conversation was steered away from the subject of earnings, into one more based on freetime, culture and drinking.  That and we talked about Yuè Fēi, loyalty and weaponry.  All in all, a standard random afternoon at school.  This week I have no classes, just seven exams in grade 6, of which the first class (603) was completed on Monday, with the lowest scores set at 88% and 77% of the class winging in at full marks, 100%.  Other than that, I spent Tuesday working on country profiles for new school signage and education posters.

 

Class 604’s exams were finished by Wednesday morning, complete with a student called Rex looking well and truly flu-ravished.  I thought the poor kid would keel over, he looked so dizzy and unsettled.  He soldiered through scoring 98%.  On the whole, 75% of his class scored top marks.  The lowest score being 80%.  In class 605, the lowest mark was 90%.  80% of the class scored maximum marks, although I had to stop Raymond turning his exam papers into an airplane – he is such a smart kid, he could answer everything with sentences based around, “I don’t like…” making sure the keyword fitter correctly before answering something more appropriate.  His nodding and sounds of hmmm can be a tad patronising but he’s a witty so-and-so.  Cindy was cheeky as ever and her friend Lucy told me the keyword I read isn’t there, even though it was.  She spent ages questioning it before falling out with me.  As she left the desk, she spotted it.  In that class Willow told me she was sad not because school would soon end, but she was saddened by so many exam papers.  James, in this class, was as humorous as ever – he is destined for a career in Chinese comedy.  For my money, he’d rival any worldwide gurning champion too.

 

After lunch class 606 stepped up to the plate.  69% of their class gained full marks.  One student set a low of 55% but I could not get him to speak, no matter how hard I tried.  The same kid spends all classes doodling pictures of guns.  This is a worrying craze for some students here in school – in the country with the tightest gun control, thankfully.  Aside from him, nobody scored below 90% in his class.  In class 606, Coine (who I often see with her sister near to my apartments) told me her life story in less than five minutes with some complex sentence structure examples befor Eric said he was afraid, but still managed to sail through the exam with flying colours.  Shortly after this class in class 607 completed their exams, with 82% of the students scoring the big 100%. Four of the six students who missed out on 100% scord 95%.

 

After Wednesday night’s shattering win for Murray’s F.C. Oranges against Murray’s F.C. Greens, and a slightly exhausting bikeride back, I drank two iced kumquat lemon teas, ate a small pot of ice cream and fell asleep.  I woke up tired, hungry and bizarrely with a sore eye.  On arriving at school, class 601 started their oral English exam papers but did not finish them all.  Class 602 followed after lunchtime, and unsurprisingly they scored high.  The lowest mark was 95%.  Only three students did not reach 100%.  91% got the full marks.  Miss Jiang, or Aaron (pronounced Erin) runs a tight ship in her classes.  The students are always hardworking and always attentative.  Despite the strictness she imposes upon them, they can also be wily and clever impudent little monkeys.  When asked to take my desk outside, Bob asked if I wanted to do the xam by the W.C to enjoy the fresh air.  I declined.  Johnny signed his paper by his class nickname of Monkey Boy.  He is the smallest student in grade six at 140cm, and is ever so slight.  He is 10-15cm below average height, and what he lacks in physique, he expands in vocal adeptness.  Roy, a lazy and fat kid (fat here is not insulting) advises at the weekends, “I sleep because I am fat.  I am lazy because I am fat.  I eat because I am fat.”  He beams joy with every answer.  China’s obsesity epidemic will not be beaten with that attitude.  Sat outside the classrooms in the steamy 32°C shade, alongside wilting, withering and waning plants, I wonder, who waters plants for those who go home in this migrant populated city?  That’s my life business plan, to run a plant nursery that simply minds your plants when you go back home or on holiday.

 

Today is Friday, next week I have six grade six classes and have to complete 11 student’s oral English exams.  Outside of that, Mikkel, Liane, Catherine, Andreas and I must sing “Uptown Girl” at an end of year show on our final working day.  Friday the 26^th will be emotional, but at least I know I’ll be back soon enough.  This weekend is an extra day long for the Dragon Boat Festival.  端午节快乐!  Duānwǔjié kuàilè!  Happy Dragon Boat Festival!

 

So, there’s a few plans in the pipeline:

SATURDAY 20TH JUNE 2015

Bus to Nancheng then bus 67 to Zhongtang [Machong (final stop)] to see Jiangnan’s Dragon boat parade and races from 10am to 2pm.  [Other buses:  L1 to 58 / 219 to 58A / 213 to 64 to 1 / 222A to 2 to 27.]

From here a taxi, minibus or bus to Wangniudan’s races (Liaoxia River, Dongguan) that run from 12pm-3pm before ending at the Daojiao Food Festival.  The bus or taxi back will be my last concern.

 

SUNDAY 21ST JUNE 2015

Somehow get to either Hengyong Village River in Zhongtang Town for 10am to 2pm or head to Dongjiang River Liaohe Section at Shipai Town for one of the two races.

That evening Murray’s F.C. face Dongguan Sheraton F.C. in what could be my last appearance until September.  I joined the club in July last year and we had a winter break during the spring festival for four weeks.  We have consistently had one to three games a week in 5, 7, 8 and 11-a-side games.  That to me, seems crazy.  The Chairman, Eddy, and his secretary are working on the appearance stats this weekend… I’d be curious how many games I’ve played since giving up football (in Norwich) [for the second time in my life, the first being after leaving Plymouth].

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye

 

That play what I wrote

23^rd June 2015

Here’s the completed and published HubHao articles so far…

ISSUE THREE:

Shoppers’ Guide To Wanjiang Sportswear Street

Badasses Of Chinese History – Hua Mulan

The myth behind the Disney movie China has one of the longest and most interesting histories in the world. From rebels who thought they were Jesus to beauties that…

Winners Bar – Bar Review

A winning blend of English authenticity The doors were opened wide by two ladies dressed in what appeared to be outfits like those worn by the Royal Guards outside of…

Going For The Bullseye

The growing popularity of Darts in Dongguan Steel tip darts has always held a special place in many of the bars in Dongguan. The introduction of soft tip darts has seen…

ISSUE TWO:

How To Survive Going To A Cinema

The cinema is a place of magic, emotions and white-knuckle rollercoaster rides. Often many battles are on-screen and increasingly as East meets West clashes engulf the…

Tips For The Classroom – Part Two

Often we can learn from trial and error, observing others, or good old fashioned teaching. There’s no right way or wrong way, we all develop our own style to learn,…

Atlantic Attraction at Brown Sugar Jar – Arts Review

The atmospheric intro quickly faded into a homely vibrant song. The kind a popular TV show could easily mould into a soundtrack. Before long lead singer Kevin, complete…

ISSUE ONE:

 

 

Badasses of Chinese History: Zhuge Liang

China has one of the longest and most interesting histories in the world. From rebels who thought they were Jesus to beauties that would put Helen of Troy to shame. Each…

Restaurant Review – Munchalots

I love food. Food experts probably scrutinize food far too deeply. I personally pick satisfaction above all else. In an effort to show you my writing and taste has some…

Tips for the Classroom – Part One

 

#122: Hanging like a shark in a net

23^rd June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

The end of era; when Maine Road closed down for good; the last broadcast; the final furlong; the final chapter; the last act; the last leg; the ultimate week; the decisive semester; the conclusion of a story; the culmination of my learnings; a cessation and termination of a journey; the closure; an expiration to this story; the completion of undertakings; the grand finale; the week that winds-up the closing stages and brings all to a halt… thankfully, it is just an interruption, a hiatus before the next chapter of life.  As the doors of grade 9 swung shut, they graduated last night and the promotion of grade 8 (to the most senior students on site) happened, I slumped back and enjoyed the final hours of Monday’s holiday day.  My physical condition, battered, bruised and lethargic, with just enough spirit to get through a grey summer’s day, in the humid but cooler 28°C temperatures.  Milky tea and lemon teas have served me well this weekend.

 

On Friday night, sushi was required, that and a gentle but sleepy stroll after a week that felt just too long and inactive for my liking.  Saturday was met with an early rise.  I met Amy, a teacher from grade 9/grade 3 (at Dao Ming Foreign Language School), and we headed to Zhōngtáng (中堂 /middle hall) in the North West of Dongguan’s townships.  After taking the number 67 bus, we arrived and sought a taxi to get us the last few kilometres to Jiāngnáncun village for the Dragon Boat parade.  Despite local advertising, it turned out there was no such thing that day!  Two more taxi drivers and a local confirmed this so.  Amy’s old students at a school nearby verified it further.  Plan B was turned to…

 

A short ride on another bus, in the direction of Zhōngtáng bus station meant Amy had put us on the right bus, wrong direction.  I had questioned this earlier.  So, we boarded the same bus and headed away to Wàngniúdūn (望牛墩) via XiaLuCun, MaLiCun and LiaoXiaCun.  On arriving there was a brief wait before the Dragon Boat races began.  Almost as soon as they began Tina, Nikki, Daniel, Crystal and Chris arrived to join us.  Kim was going to join us but got lost in a taxi.  The taxi driver didn’t know the town, let alone the village.  The village did seem to have an unusual amount of dead chickens floating downstream…

 

After a fantastic hour or so of racing, and the best 5RMB lemon tea I have ever had, with seemingly unmeltable ice chunks, we departed for Daojiao (道滘) and the The 6th Daojiao Food Cultural Festival held at Jichuan Square on the river banks, and amongst the indoor arena.  Here many foods were sampled, drinks drank and a man who has dwarfism was watched dry-humping his colleague on the Hollywood Baby Too stage.  Some blueberry wine was purchased and eventually our band departed to Houjie.  From Houjie we proceeded to a village called Qiaotou, just south of the town centre.

 

At Qiaotou, we could see a neatly arranged barrier central in the central Qiaotou Square with tables set aside for judges.  Nothing seemed to be happending.  We were a little early.  So we waited.  Soon after it became apparent that the boxes stacked two metres high and as wide as long as high, were not bottles of water, as I suspected.  It was in fact a combination of fire crackers and bangers.  The square had four sets laid out in the middle and was cleared of any wandering toddlers and small children.  The police and local volunteers all went to several positions, each with a bag full of ordnance.  At which point, my phone rang, Edison, who teaches in this village, “Hello John, where are you?  Do you want to join in?”  Then I lost his words and the call ended.  Several loud fire crackers in close proximity having near-deafened all around me.  Edison called again, “Where are you?  I’m to the left of the square.”  I looked high and low and could ot see him.  Then, “I’m in red, waving.”  My eyes looked left.  Nothing.  I caught motion from the farthest corner of my eye.  He was to the right of the square (in a position, no-one could ever call left, due to the lay of the land and buildings tight to the square).  “Come and meet me.”  I said to the others I’d go and see what he was doing.  I scarpered to meet him not knowing what to expect.  Edison was parked in a place a Police Officer asked him to move from, he gestured to me in the car, “Come!  Quickly!”  I dived in not knowing what was happening – and more importantly where was Edison taking me?!

 

His four wheel drive car turned right, alongside the square, the square disappeared from view behind us.  It jolted down a bumpy road, alongside a food market and shopping area.  After a kilometre or so, Edison turned his offroad car left, up a bending road, into a chasm of alleyways and then right, over a bridge before parking a further kilometre away near a lake and basketball court.  This end of Qiaotou was not nearly as modern as the end with the Qiaotou Square.  Here buildings struck me as much more traditional and put together with less budget, whilst maintaining as much care as possible to practicalities such as waterproofing and doors before windows.  Air conditioning units hung sadly from walls.  Electical cables formed no order, strung from building to sorry looking building.  Bricks replaced concrete and rubble replaced tarmac.  The earth infrequently offering anything green within this area.  We hurried along to a gran looking village hall.  Here it was much more modern.  The village elders and chairman obviously knowing how to save their funds.  Here I met some of Edison’s family and friends.  Photos were taken and locals taken aback by my presence.  Edison said foreigners never enter this village, and have never had reason to.  There are no multinational production companies in Qiaotou village.  After pleasantries had been exchanged, a XXXXL red (the forbidden colour)  t-shirt was flung at me.  “Welcome to our team”, Edison informed me.  I could not say no, even if it meant wearing red.  I had my purple Manchester City shirt underneath to prevent red t-shirt to skin contact.

 

The team, one of seven in Qiaotou, was approximately 2500-strong, from toddlers to the near elderly.  The village’s most eldest people watched on from doorways and seats around the area.  Here everyone was given either a branch (to beat the clouds away from the dragons), a flag (the red or yellow colours of the village), a drum (noises to replicate the racing beats), or replica dragon boats (finely carved but festooned with neon lights giving a tacky visual making).  I was an amateur and newcomer.  I was given a branch.  We soon set off, joining the red tribe.  There were yellow, blue, green, orange, black and gold tribes around the large village streets.  The object was to snake around the village.  On meeting the other tribes, firecrackers were thrown at their feet to signify the battle of the racing boats.  The team that did not dance well with those who carried the dragon boats performing their moves, decided without hesitation by the opposing teams, had to turn around and snake another route.  The tradition, I was told, dated back four generations and was brought about due to the drying up of several village creaks and two men who raced, carrying large dragon boats, down a village street.

 

Over the years, tribalism has rocketed [pun intended] with each clan being rewarded at the central square for their final dance.  The central Qiaotou Square is where the judges convene and do their best Simon Cowel impressions.  The team of kinfolk from Qiaotou that wins, receives honours and a prize for their ‘hood of Qiaotou.  On asking Edison to translate my questions to many locals, it became apparent that this is a totally unique form of this festival nationally.  CCTV, the state television, were in attendance, exclusively offering live coverage of this one-off custom.

 

At the time, I felt wave after wave of euphoria and privilege to have been invited to such a matchless and rare occurance.  This happens annually but only for a few hours.  Through working for Worlda, I was posted to Dao Ming Foreign Language School, who sent me on a Thanksgiving Day task to Qiaotou’s state school.  Here I met Edison, who has friends involved in this event every year.  A set of links so finite that led to experiencing something so exceptional and spellbounding.  I felt joy, like never experienced for many years before, like a kid at Christmas, unwrapping a present, not suspecting that his parents have worked exceedingly hard to buy them that Lego set the kid dreamed he would never ever reach.  I was that kid once, thanks to my mum, I had that gift – and through her (and Dad’s) gift of life to me, I experienced that moment.  The moment has gone, but every now and then life throws something beautiful my way, wiping out the sight of dead chickens floating downstream…

 

Around 55km of travels later, after a cold beer at Irene’s Bar with Edison and his girlfriend, home was departed for… and desperately needed sleep.  The badly shot highlights of Saturday can be viewed here in video format. 

 

Sunday, was a gratifyingly lazy day followed by an intense 7-5 win in football for Murray’s FC against XiLu Hotel FC (West Lake Hotel).  It was our debut at their newly opened pitch.  The win almost killed me.  I raced onto a right wing ball, sprinted beyond the left back and spun a ball into the box.  My momentum carried me forward, unable to stop I hit a fence knee high (full on into my kneecaps), flipped over the fence into the black netting that prevents footballs being lost.  I went head over heels downwards, clattering against the wall, suspended in the net like a shark being fished for its fins.  It was equally as worrying.  For a moment I thought I’d hit my head, I hung dazed, as both teams’ players ran over.  A few moments, and helping hands lifted me up, still stunned and stupefied.  I stood up, assessed I had many scratches and two bruised knees before returning to play the final ten minutes.  I thought I was a goner.  I found out Aaron had graciously stopped the play despite being in a goalscoring opportunity.  That’s our team, through and through.  We work for each other.  Afterwards the opposition players kept asking me “Hao bu hao?” or “Hao ma?” to which I said I am fine, thanks.  What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.

 

I’ve just been told that a senior school member, Mr Yang has asked me to present certificates to my graduating students in grade 6.  The message should have reached me several weeks earlier.  It didn’t.  The ceremony is next Wednesday.  I am gutted that I will miss it.  Seven classes of grade 6 students (around 37 students a class) doesn’t go into 4 classes of grade 7.  I’ll have to say my goodbyes this week.  How typical that messages never reach me.  Sometimes I wonder of Cherry, my immediate supervisor here, doesn’t pass messages on purpose or shirks her responsibilities out of idleness.  She works damn hard as a teacher but I don’t think she can come to terms with being the link between school and the foreign teachers here.  Liane, today, advised me her apartment drawer is stuck and she cannot get into it, a job for the landlady, yet Cherry “can’t call her.”  I don’t know whether that means she is away, or she doesn’t have her number anymore or anything.  I love vagueness.

 

And today, we have further been practicing and murdering Uptown Girl by Billie Joel for the school show this Friday morning… Mikkel and I lack enthusiasm, Andreas is giving his all.  Catherine knows her stuff and Liane is very forthcoming with ideas.  But, the song means zip to me…  On the day, I’ll give my all.  Until then, I’ll just wake up and make up my mind.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye

WELCOME TO MANCHESTER!

30^th June 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do from Manchester,

 

Thursday the 25^th of June 2015 was the penultimate day of term for me and the other foreign teachers here.  Mikkel and Andreas are off to Xiamen, Shanghai and Beijing from Monday 30^th June; Catherine and Liane are also backpacking around China from the Sunday, a day earlier.  Meanwhile Chris, Bryony, Cliadnha, Tina, Kim and Nikki remain teaching kindergarten until the 11^th of July.  School term beginning and end dates can vary locally, regionally or even within the same parent organisation – or local government state schools.  Exams are being taken left, right and centre within Dao Ming Foreign Language School and being overseen by external bodies to ensure cheating and malpractice cannot surface.

 

And on Thursday, I found myself sat in my school office writing a review of the school semester and my experiences for my company.  My mind was semi-blank on the subject, subdued by the lack of action in the classroom of late.  All but one class last week had been cancelled.  Class 602 played games and my final class was an absolute joy.  A few students had tears in their eyes, but on the whole they sent me off, happy and proud to have been part of their lives, even if just for a blink of the eye in time.  That evening I ate with Miss Jiang, Emma, Doris and Nancy in a Guangdong restaurant in the local area to our school.  I found out that Emma and Doris are both leaving school.  That’s a real shame, but I wish them well.  Our loss is someone else’s gain.  Doris is homesick whereas Emma has a job offer in Humen city with a larger school.

 

On Friday morning, we gathered on the school playground alongside the students of grades 1-6.  The primary school grades each sang a song.  Renditions of Do Re Mi (from the 1959 movie The Sound of Music) by grade two; hilarity and beauty in other songs like You Are My Sunshine (first recorded by Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchel in 1939) to more modern numbers like Emilia’s 1998 number, I’m a big big girl in a big big world finally was rounded off by the teachers singing Sunshine After The Rain by Swedish group BWO (covered by Jolin Tsai under the title Ri Bu Luo Cai Yi Lin).  The finale was Mikkel, Liane, Catherine, Andreas and I performing Billie Joel’s Uptown Girl.  I think, considering the lack of passion for the song and practice finally paid off.  The team did very well overall and delivered the song with a degree of energy that received good reception by students and teachers alike.  Following this Andreas read a brief speech and the Principal handed us a gift bag with a porcelain style notebook, biro, business cardholder, USB-pens, and keyring all with the school’s logo on them.

 

For the morning, I signed autographs, had my photos taken with students and teachers, walked and danced, dictated with actions an English test (as guest teacher), helped students with homework, smiled more than I thought humanly possible and said my farewells.  It was emotional.  The seven classes in grade 6 cannot all return to grade 7, because there is only 4 possible classes.  I do hope to see the majority of the students return and wished every single one good luck, with hand written and personal messages too.  It killed my wrists writing for over 290 students – but that’s the level of respect I have for them.  They work damn hard and if one student takes a tiny amount of inspiration, bottles it for later, takes it with them, or uses it, then my job has been a good one.  The afternoon flowed by, and I slipped out the door quietly before further farewells to teachers.

 

On Saturday, the day passed far too soon, with great company and teary eyed goodbyes.  Hong Kong style food and wanderings emptied the day of time.  In the evening, tired, weary and still not packed I went to Irene’s Bar, said my farewells and drank some beers.  Michael, the careless-with-money shoe business man paid for everything.  Crazy!  He also had some sky blue light up shoes that just shouted, “Oi look!  I am rich!”  Anyway, after the ever hospitable Irene slammed a millipede’s worth of chicken legs on my plate and a shank of beef, I tried to sit back and relax.  It was pleasant to say goodbye to those leaving like Josefin, Catherine, Andreas, Liane, Liam and Mikkel.  Andrea, Chris, Kim, Nikki, Cliadhna, Peter and a few others will remain in the locality for next semester.  I hope to keep in reasonable touch with those who are leaving.  Kira, who left in spring had an article published recently and shared this, but it is in German…  So, exiting to Frank Sinatra’s rendition of New York, I went home to bed.

 

For Sunday, day 502 away from the U.K., I was up early, packed my rucksack and hand luggage.  I went out and had a breakfast before returning.  Catching a taxi-limo across the border from the Hyatt Garden Hotel in Houjie to Hong Kong International Airport cost 210RMB and was totally hassle-free.  Having tried the train, the walking route and other coach/bus options to cross the border, I can safely say the Trans Island Limo service offers value for money, comfort and is stress free.  They even do services from Houjie to Disneyland, downtown Hong Kong and generally anywhere within the region.  After arriving, I sat with a lovely roasted vegetable sandwich and we discussed world politics.  Not really, I ate it!  Watching aircraft land and depart is relaxing.  The busy airport that is Hong Kong definitely has air traffic.  The extremeness of one of the runways is very clear to see.  After stroking a police sniffer dog, I checked in my baggage and smoothly slipped through the customs gates.  I boarded my flight at 1830hrs and the flight departed shortly after at 1855.  Up into the sky.  Away from Hong Kong and southern China.  Due west.

 

In flight I enjoyed three movies.  Black Sea being the first.  I usually dislike movies with Jude Law but here he shows depth and range in his acting.  At first I questioned whether it was even him.  With co-stars as talented as David Threlfall, Tobias Menzies, and Michael Smiley – to name but a few, this film could have been lost at sea.  It is a dark but beautiful tale of dreams, shatterings of society and greed. Get on board.  Before watching that I accidentally selected Big Eyes, due to turbulence.  Christoph Waltz really is a disturbingly talented actor.  Amy Adams is beautiful and very good at drawing you into her charcter.  The movie is based on a real life story that is truly wonderful.  My first selection of the flights was Kingsman:  The Secret Service which was very witty indeed.  Aside from an early message on the first flight, “Is there a doctor or nurse onboard the plane?” the journey was uneventful.  There is only so much you can do strapped to a seat on a flying metal tube in the sky.  Thankfully the man who needed a doctor as the Etihad Airways aircraft departed Hong Kong wasn’t so serious and just needed oxygen and some tablets for his angina.  My journey involved a change at Abu Dhabi International Airport.  Almost drifting away to sleep, I boarded the plane, found my seat and promptly passed out.  I awoke once, a bearded middle-Eastern man to my left awoke me to pass me the inflight food.  I ate this and properly felt alive again.  I began chatting to the man, who hailed from Oman.  We talked about China, the U.K., his new place of study (Nottingham), the green forests of Ain Sahalnout, Salalah and many more subjects.  The last three hours of the flight… flew by.  Collecting my bags swiftly, passing through arrivals and being greeted by the waft of Gregg’s Bakery, I met Mum and Paul.  They were late, or as I found out, I was early!  We went for breakfast at The Milson Rhodes (Wetherspoon’s) in Didsbury before a short walk around a garden centre, a cup of green tea and then met my sister Astrid.  A combination of time slipping away, dizziness from jet lag later and I awoke at 6am.  I’m sat back, swigging a machine filtered coffee right now.  The Weetabix and fresh milk from within my bowl have long since disappeared.

 

I’ve been reading up news, local and international whilst trying to shake away the jetlag.  Notably I found out my former Aviva work colleague Vicky Aspinall and her posse aren’t backing down to fear.  I hope they enjoy their holiday.  One brutal and stupid act of terrorism will have a massive regional and international effect on people’s livelihoods in the affected area of Tunisia.  I wouldn’t say that I’d want to stay there in that situation, only you can decide such things at such times, but hats off to Vicky for staying there and trying to support the local economy.  Calm waters don’t make good sailors, but sailors who don’t shirk away from big waves often make great sailors in the sea journey of life.

 

And now I’m booking things, looking at things to do… I might skip Bakewell’s Baking festival.  Although the custard pie fight sounds fun.  I’ve booked tickets for £10 to see MCFC’s City Live.  City Live, at the G-Mex (or Manchester Central) will feature former Doves singers’ new band Black Rivers amongst new signings being unveiled, the Etihad Player of the Season award, the Nissan Goal of the Season, the LG EDS Player of the Season, the EA Sports Performance Index award, and the Vitality Fitness Award.  It seems a long time since City had a big club with a small club mentality… and a lifetime since half-hearted Thomas Cook Trophy games.

And now for another jet lag inspired nap…

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra from Manchester / Goodbye

Monkeys, mountains and a Mancunian

2^nd April 2015

From the moment of entry into the classroom, the mood changes.  The students embrace you.  They see you as something different.  You are foreign.  They know that.  You probably won’t understand their native tongue.  They use that to their advantage.  An advantage they don’t understand you can dispel over time.  The attitude of welcoming each class for the individuals within or the collective wits and humours makes the day fly by.  Today, class 602, who are surely the best class in school surprised me with a simple spoken English show that turned into a near Shakespearian rendition of the importance of washing your bag for school and how busy the cast’s weekend was.  In the previous week, a show based on recruiting a goalkeeper has produced an intimidating and menacing restoration piece of Reservoir Dogs.  I don’t know what Miss Jiang, the head of foreign lanaguages does to this class, but it works.  They think outside the box and are very amusing as a result.  Their sharp humour often makes me laugh.  Their English skills are equally fast – and not a single student lags behind.  They are for me a fantastic model class.

Classes of late have been far from dull.  Sometimes the material has been dull.  Try for example bringing to life the topics of charity, volunteering, rules or permission.  They can be hard to understand without examples – and to a degree, examples aren’t often relatable.  The significance of homelessness is denied here, even though many students have or will see homeless people on a near-regular basis.  The air quality is very good, according to many classes, so there is no need to plant hundreds of trees – whilst volunteering.  To quote the recent Spectre movie trailer, “You’re a kite dancing in a hurricane Mr. Bond.”

Over a month has passed since departing the beauties of Zhangjiajie in Hunan and return to basecamp in Guangdong.  Photos have been edited, memories are fresh.  The cool invigorating airs and bracing views seem like both a lifetime ago, yet only yesterday too.  My thirst to visit such a place again is unquenched.  The new interns, Mikkel (of Danish origin), Andreas (also a great Dane), Liane (from Bedfordshire) and Catherine (from up t’ Yorkshire way) are all planning to go to Zhangjiajie in May.  Whilst three days there may be expensive and not a great time period for such a place, it seems like this donkey wants that carrot.

Departing the great city of Beijing on the 21^st of February late at night (Air China CA1359.  1462.5RMB per seat. 2.5hours inflight) to arrive in Datong airport on the outskirts of Zhangjiajie was underwhelming.  The taxi journey, after being negotiated from 600RMB to 200RMB, was an experience and entire novel or video could not do justice towards.  On departing the airport the taxi driver gestured us to swap cabs around a few kilometres after entering the vehicle.  The second driver was a distant cousin of Finnish rally car driver Sébastien Loeb.  Or so it seemed.  Overtaking fast moving vehicles on hair-pin bends with oncoming headlights on double track roads is not my idea of fun.  I left handprints in the upholstery from squeezing hold for dear life.  I’m glad I did not need the toilet.  I would have deficated at some of the manoeuvres this driver span.  My heart raced from the first bend to the last roundabout 28 kilometres later.

On arriving at the hostel, check-in was simple.  Wulinyuan Zhongtian International Youth Hostel worked out at 345RMB for 5 nights.  Located midway up the catchily translated North to Zixia Taoist Temple Baofeng Road in Wulingyuan, it was pretty much as well located as anyone could ask for when wishing to explore…  Let’s be fair.  I’ve come to see the beauty of Zhangjiajie’s national park and the local scenic zones.  I haven’t come for luxury.  As hostels go it, it is basic – but that is all I want.  And I say basic loosely.  There’s an air conditioner with heating settings and a TV with cable.  That to me is luxury.  The bathroom featured a shower with very hot water and a wide mirrored sink.  That’s also a luxury.  The bed was double in width and longer than 1.8m.  For us giants, this is a luxury.  Extra blankets accompanied a thick duvet.  Luxury.  The room looked dated and could easily have passed as a budget hotel room but it was more than convenient.  For the price paid, it was very good value.  The WiFi was available and extremely reliable.

During Spring Festival it is considered the proverbial bottom end of winter in this region.  Two weeks ago snow fell.  The air felt mild – damp outside but not cold.  Inside the hostel entrance and the cafe bar style ground reception area, the air felt much cooler.  The host, Victor, explained food was limited at his hostel in the quiet season – and promptly directed anyone to local restaurants, food markets and local eating establishments.  Hunan has rich and spicy food, so a poor choice of places to eat is a rarity.  The location is perfect for many local and regional attractions.  A taxi from the airport is 140rmb but buses are far cheaper.  Ask the hostel for assistance.  The local bus station in Wulingyuan is around ten minutes walk away – with buses to the national park main entrance, the city and other local villages possible.  Victor was a fantastic host, in someways like a tour guide that can set you on your ways.  I will recommend this place ahead of all others.  I will also look to return one day.

What can you do near Wulinggyuan?

Well, the first stop was on a rainy day.  You need to be indoors.  The Huanglong Dong (Yellow Dragon cave; 黄龙洞) allowed just that.  At 103RMB (3RMB is for insurance) and 15RMB to see the stalagmite-stalactite labrynth was marvellous value.  This included a short boat ride and more than two hours of strolling.   After entering via the Huanglong Cave Ecology Square and an excellent set of grounds, the amble through one of Asia’s longest cavern and cave systems is demanded if you’re in the region.  The caves features huge neon lit dry caves, water-filled caves, stalactites, stalagmites, stone blossoms, stone curtains, stone branches, stone canals, stone pearls, and stone macrospores.  There’s certainly some stones to be seen.  There are thousands of stairs too making the stroll a little arduous – yet worthy of labour.

Once back on the surface many shops, stalls and eateries look for your money.  Amongst them are some fantastic local tastes – and not always spicy!

Victor, the hostel advisor, advised us that out of season the four day access cards for Zhangjiajie National Park had dropped in price to 139RMB.  With that bonus in mind, a walk from the hostel to the Wulingyuan gate of the Zhangjiajie National Park briskly flew by.  On buying your tickets, swiping your card and the park staff taking a thumb print, you then board a bus to Suoxiyu.  The short ride into a more central location of the park winds alongside a reservoir, lake and many streams.  Forestry thickens very soon and Karst rock mountains rise from the ground like giant tombstones.  For the first day a route was calculated along the Golden Whip Stream.  The route passed many paoints with elaborate names:  Jumping Fish Pool, Reunion Tree, Lovers From Afar, Zicao Pool, Turtles Peeking At The Stream, Candl Peak, Monkeys, Golden Whip Peak, Welcoming Rock, Southern Heavenly Gate, Picking Star Terrace, Huangshi Cun, Front Garden, and the Huangshi Pine.  The final exit point was Zhangjiajie Cun – a village featuring the main Zhangjiajie National Park Entrance.  Here a rapid Bus to Wulingyuan costing 10RMB returnsd you in less than forty minutes, complete with memories and a rejuvenated mind, body and soul.  The air quality in the vallies is some of the best experienced globally, let alone in China.  After a full day in the park, there was only one thing needed…

…to return into the park.  The route on the 24^th differed somewhat.  After arriving at Suoxiyu and following the previous day’s route, a detour after the Reunion Tree towards the Back Garden walk was had.  On observing monkeys pick pocket, snatch bags of nuts and generally stuff their cakeholes with….erm… cakes, a lengthy climb and thousands of footsteps required scaling.  Some lacked tread and were a tad slippery.  Others lacked consistency in height requiring a shuffle or a stretch.  All pointed upwards.  Each step becoming progressively higher until reaching the Back Garden.  Here many Karst mountains form the Enchanting terrace; the Heaven Pillar; the overcrowded and slow moving pathway that accompanies the Greatest Natural Bridge; before reaching a bus terminus at Shadaogou.  On hopping onto a smaller minibus to Tianzi mountain and winding around the roads, the end point is the Tianzi pavilion.  Here has crept in a McDonalds.  The feet carried on plodding and took a steep downwards pathway to see the Warrior Taming Horse, the Imperial Armchair and pass through the Southern Heavenly Gate, before passing the Echo Cliff and reaching the Monkey Garden bus stop.  That night’s extremely tasty and piquantous food cost 25.5RMB for one serving.  The fact it was served from a market barbecue onto a makeshift seating area in a ground floor of a building site made it all the more magical.

So with two days of service under the belt in Zhangjiajie National Park Entrance, Victor directed the following day’s course in a new direction.  A bus from Wulingyuan to the Zhangjiajie National Park Entrance allowed a fantastic potato based breakfast at that gate.  Hereon the strol banked east – and up.  Always up.  Passing the Yaoying Fortress after seeing some endangered species tablets made for a great photography moment.  This way was simple passing the Wuwei Pass, another Echo Valley and many points around the Yaozi Village including a hairily scarily crumbling and closed pathway – amongst the paths, bridges and ledges.  The names this way included Commenting Freely On A Dominant Position; simply Decent to Golden Whip Stream and the walk eventually led to being reunited by the Reunion Tree, complete with nearby greedy monkesy.  From here a ramble to Suoziyu and beyond gave rise to a ride on a short monorail.  At the far monorial station, I witnessed my second Giant Salamander – in a tiny glass tank (one step up from the one sat in a washing bowl witnessed by a restaurant yesterday).  The saunter back allowed the sights of the sites Herb Picking Old Man; Monkey King Keeping Guard and the Natural Garretts.  That evening demanded more energy and food cost around 76.5RMB each.  It was accompanied by a local beer, which tasted closer to water than bottled water has ever managed to achieve.

The 26^th day of February was to be the final holiday day.  The final day in Zhangjiajie.  The final day before returning to Houjie via Guangzhou.  Why take it easy?  A wander to Tianzi mountain, again stopping at the Tianzi pavilion and again avoiding McDonalds was called for.  This time the views were slightly clouded out.  The clods sitting beneth the views at the Emperor’s Throne, the Celestial Bridge, Cock Pecking and other such oddly named views.  The walk down was familiar but far more slippery owing to a fine rain, the sort that soaks you through and through.  On passing the Warrior Taming Horse; Imperial Armchair; Southern Heavenly Gate and Echo Cliff for the bus out, it was clear the disposable poncho sales ibn the area that day were booming.  Sadly, the disposal was less impressive, strewn and sometimes tied to trees, sometimes dumped by but not in a bin, sometimes littering the pathways.  Chinese tourism has boomed in recent years – and on the whole, even the Chinese folk will argue the effects can be messy and nothing to be proud of.  On this trip thankfully solace and solitude was found often.  However, mass smoking groups in non-smoking areas (the risk of forest fires), blazing phones banging out dizzingy dance numbers, and littering are a problem on the busier routes.

Zhangjiajie is one of the best places in the world I have ever visited.  Whilst most of the major pathways are set in stones, thus preventing erosion and furger damage, there are ample places to stride on lesser pathways.  The beaten track can be avoided with ease and sights can be seen with relative peace.  Each person values something differently and here you can find something for you.  Even if it posing with a plastic sculpture of a dragon from Avatar, or enjoying a cable cart ride through gargantuan Karst pikes, this park offers something for everyone.  No amount of words or photos can do it justice.

One hour and a half hours after leaving Zhangjiajie’s Datong airport, China Southern Airlines CZ3382 touched down at Guangzhou Baiyun Airport.  The 968RMB ticket and delays at getting a taxi to the 94RMB a night craphole that was the Super 8 Hotel Guangzhou Baiyun Airport Subway Station Inn took the gloss off an otherwise amazing exploration.

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

 

I’m delicious. Are you?

8^th April 2015

The first week of April seen a huge boom in vampire-like mosquito numbers.  Mosquito zapping rackets, sprays of chemicals like deet, anti-mosquito coils, strong-winded fans blowing swirling air, repellent stickers and more have been deployed, often of little effect.  The little bloodsucking bastard flies plod on, their seemingly endless feasts creating many an itch or bitemark on many brave souls, willing to walk, sit down or be exposed to the crowded evening skies.  I have nothing against the short-lived male mosquito, he happens to obey the five-a-day fruit campaign of western countries to a tee.  His bushy antennaes allow him chance to find a mate amongst a huge swarm around dusk.  There are plenty of swarms locally of late.

 

My mosquito sexism is actually pure hatred for the female of the species.  Her tube-like mouthpart (proboscis) wants to pierce us warm-blooded victims.  I wish she’d pierce off and bother Peirs Morgan or some other non-interesting infamous anti-celebrity.  Her saliva, the drooling winged bitch, causes irritation and sometimes carries vector-born diseases.  Global diseases like malaria, yellow fever, west nile virus and filariasis are the direct result of this girl group on a par with the Spice Girls or other equally talent free girl bands for repetitive irritation levels.  You’ll be left with a small or large wheal (histamines trying to fight off the protein left by the attacking insect).  I personally just want to squash them under a car wheel.

 

On inspecting a mosquito close up, they can be surprisingly colourful or patterned.  Often each opportunistic species sports a separate brand of colour-schemes.  Their body is alien in shape but surely inspirational in simplistic natural aviation design shapes.  Their crepuscular (dawn or dusk) feeding times means that every day you have the chance to see one here in Dongguan.  Every day, all year.  We also host other species such as the Asian tiger mosquito which pop out during the day to raid you for some sweeeeeeeet blood.

 

To public health officials the world over, knowing which species is where and what threat they offer is important.  I personally splat them on an equal basis.  Zero discrimination.  Dead.  But who is to blame for the spread of the mosquito and their 3,500 plus subspecies?  Man.  Sudden deforestation, loss of isolated habitats and even scientific studies have carried some nasty biters around the planet, surprisingly mostly by ship, train and aircraft.  Their simple lifecycle from egg, to larva to pupa is often unnoticed.  Once they mature into adults, the war begins.  This is where we humans also mess up royally again.  Most species lay eggs in stagnant water.  Man-made reservoirs, drainpipes, drains, buckets, storm drain channels… oh the list goes on and on… all play their part in incubating the scrounging, sponging species of spectacular survival.

 

Our most deadly foe has been around since the dawn of time and the battle against these freeloaders shall never end.  The world’s ecosystem depends on them for pollination and they are dependent on us for blood.  So, take up your arms and keep squatting…

 

Blowing hot and cold.

9^th April 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

Yawn!

 

Two days ago the nighttime temperature was close to 27°C, having hit 32°C in the daytime.  Then yesterday morning, temperatures plummeted to 16°C, with much last night rounding off at 15°C.  Today, it is a similar temperature.  The five day forecast shows very little difference.  This cold snap locally has seen a rush for sweaters, umbrellas, warm trousers and slipper sales.  The local hospitals, I imagine, are overwhelmed based on every other native teacher telling me, “I went to hospital last night.”  When I ask the teachrs why, they say headaches, sniffles and ailments back home in the U.K. frowned upon as barely ill.  Their complaints come across as weaknesses and minor complaints so trivial they necessitate no further treatment than a hot drink.  That said, most people here drink hot plain undiluted water anyway.

 

The drop in temperature has been welcomed by some.  The night of the 27°C temperature saw a poor night’s kip for me.  I don’t think I have woken so many times in a night for a good few months.  The temperature plunge and smattering of light rain showers has for now abated the growth of the mosquito population and bites per square centimetre ratio on my body.  The cool air last night allowed for a better night’s sleep.  That said, after a tough game of football for Murray’s F.C. in Binjiang (whilst we played a game simultaneously at the same time in Dongguan’s Soccerworld some 10km away) which resulted in double defeats and sore ankles didn’t comfort my own sleep.

 

As for my bed, raised only a foot or so off the floor, the bed here at the apartment is extra long.  It is extra wide.  The firmness of the mattress is a massive downfall.  The mattress is essentially a surface with a slight amount of carpet.  To wake up with a sore neck, paresthesia (whether tingling, tickling, pricking or another sensation) or stiff in the joints are not unusual morning phenomena.  Somewhere along the timelines of history, somebody said sleeping on a firm bed is good for the health.  Beds sat above ovens occurred long ago in northern China.  To my mind, every bed since has tried to replicate the feeling of porcelain experienced back then.  Students at schools often carry their bamboo matting and pillows into classrooms every day of the week for their lunchtime naps.  Firm beds may be proven by scientists or so called experts to be good for spinal support or heavy muscle support, but the bits inbetween should not ache or have reduced circulation.

 

What is obvious, and to anyone going from a softer western to a hard as nails Chinese style bed, is that they aren’t easy to get used to.  It’s like swapping a nice-as-pie well-mannered and genteel footballer like John Charles for footballing hardman Andy Morrison.  You will notice the difference.  Or you can just have immense nights of slumber often interjected by the idiosyncratic inferior night of sleep, followed by a discontented blog interval.

 

I’m off for a nap.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

“I said words they mean nothing, so you can’t stop me”

6 seconds ago

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

The title comes from Words by defunct Manchester band Doves.

 

Who’s been reading this blog?  Well it is hard to tell, but no less than 60 hits a week have been recorded in the last year and with a peak high of 212 unique views, that can’t be bad a for a diary-cum-family-and-friend message wall.  Response wise I’ve had emails from ex-colleagues at Aviva Insurance in the U.K.; emails from fellow Brits embarking on that first step to teaching in China or beyond the Great Wall; there’s been messages from Chinese residents welcoming me to China (even a year after arriving, this is very much the norm); the blog has reached South Africans, Canadians and Australians.  Whilst I don’t expect this to be regular, I do find is mesmerising and furthers my desire to write.  Picturing that first novel on the shelf is central to my biggest ambition. 

 

The blog posts are thinning like the hair on my head.  You’d be a fool to assume that my passion for writing has slumped.  Far from it.  This last few weeks has seen me churn out several works.  This month alone has seen production of five pieces for the new magazine and website of HubHao.

 

• My first requested task was advice for teachers.  Several titles were suggested and my students in class 602 seemed to have won it with Teaching with Tofu.  It does have a little tinge of homage to Jonathan Last’s excellent memoir Teaching With Chopsticks (TEFL from the frontline) which I’m hoping he won’t mind.  [That reminds me, did I ever review that book on Amazon?!]  [808 words clocked]  The title of ther regular article has been decided by the Editorial Team and may have changed since.  I also had to submit my blurb and a few other bits to accompany it.  Hopefully my photo won’t scare off readers.
• The second duty involved eating.  And a review.  So, Munchalots in Houjie, the western-style Indian-Mexican restaurant bar faced the pen.  Some words blended and landed on paper.  [804 words clocked]
• I thought that was that.  A few failed attempts to make numerous concerts followed.  Eddy from Murray’s F.C. and Editor of HubHao (he previously was an Editor at Here Dongguan) asked me to review Brown Sugar Jar and – two birds with one stone – the band Atlantic Attraction, on tour from the Netherlands who happened to be playing at said venue.  So I did.  Essentially two tasks in one. [461 + 449 words clocked]
• I noticed Eddy was running around like a blue-arsed fluttering insect for the magazine’s maiden edition so offered my skillz [innit, blood!] or assistance.  With that I found myself learning about Zhūgě Liàng for a website only article (ergo my fifth undertaking).  Eddy wanted 1000-1500 words.  I penned 1955 words.  His job is Editor.  He has a job on.  Zhūgě Liàng and the stories around him are actually very fascinating.

So, here is the one off unedited version, ahead of publication in HubHao and to my smaller but far from undervalued audience.  If only one person reads it, then I have a victory.

 

Badasses of Chinese History: Zhūgě Liàng (诸葛亮)

Zhūgě Liàng is recognised as one of the most accomplished strategists of Chinese history.  He is often likened to another and much more ancient Chinese tactician and writer of The Art of War, Sun Tzu.

 

From the years 181 to 234, Zhūgě Liàng walked our fair Earth.  Back then it wasn’t such a fair place to live.  Like Bruce Wayne in popular graphic novel fiction, Zhūgě Liàng was an orphan.  Instead of Gotham City, Yangdu, Langya Commandery (7^th century BCE to 7^th century CE word for province) made up his fatherland.  Uncle Zhūgě Xuan was his Alfred the butler.  His uncle led him and his siblings to Jing Province before Wòlóng (Crouching Dragon) Gāng became his new nest.  They farmed.  They studied.  Early on, they led a simple life for the best part of a decade.  His sisters married.  His brothers worked alongside him.  Simple.

 

Life rarely remains simple, in times of conflict.  Liú Bèi, the warlord (and an aspirational figure), came knocking.  Three visits later and he gained a man to his cause.  Zhūgě Liàng was now in the ranks, mainly in a diplomatic capacity.  His Longzhong Plan (隆中對) essentially founded a basecamp in the south with flanking manoeuvres to the north on the cards.  Previous tacticians showed signs of jealousy and were promptly swept aside.  Liú Bèi was a “like a fish that has found water.”

 

By the year 208 (Han Dynasty), Liu Cong sat down the Jing Province to the powerful forces of Cáo Cāo (fresh from unifying northern China).  Liú Bèi caught wind of this.  His now aggrandised forces had warriors, tacticians and civilians hand-in-hand.  At Changban (south of present day Jingmen, Hubei) battle enraged, on the road to Hànkǒu (then Xiakou).  Liú Bèi sent politician Lǔ Sù and Zhūgě Liàng to Jiāngdong.  It was here that Zhōu Yú, general of Sūn Quán, after perceiving weaknesses in Cáo Cāo’s forces, joined a coalition with Liú Bèi.

 

Jealousy can either consume or spur on certain people.  The famed story Borrowing Arrows with Thatched Boats 草船借箭 is one of interest.  Zhōu Yú when asked about fighting the opposition on the river suggested bows and arrows as a good combat tool.  Not expecting this to be feasible, he said the assessment was fine but impractical due to a shortage of arrows.  He suggested Zhūgě Liàng make 100,000 arrows within ten days.  The suggested timeframe to Zhūgě Liàng seemed quizzical and the need for readiness demanded a shorter target.  So he advised, “I only need three days.”  Zhōu Yú thought that his new acquaintance was taking the biscuit and mocking him.  Zhūgě Liàng declared he would accept punishment by death if he could not complete the task.  A guarantee was signed at a great banquet.  Three days passed.  Convention was not used.  Lǔ Sù and Zhūgě Liàng contrived a plan.  They catered 300 men between 20 small boats.  Each boat was disguised in dark cloth.  Along the boats’ ports and starboards straw characters lined up.  Three days passed and not a single arrow was made.

 

On the second day Lǔ Sù and Zhūgě Liàng set sail on the boats with their men.  In thick fog they finally reached the Wei camp.  Under the shroud they beat drums and lined their boats out horizontally.  Three hundred men on their decks, outnumbered, outflanked by better weaponry, in a perilous position.  Fearless shouts bore from the boats.  The calamitous sounds reaching the Wei camps beyond the shoreline.  Cáo Cāo ordered arrows to be dispatched into the thick fog.  Sure enough over 10,000 bowmen released their projectiles.  The arrows flew silently through the fog and embedded upon the straw figures on the many boats’ port sides.  Zhūgě Liàng ordered the ships to turn around 180 degrees.  This they did.  The starboard sides lined with the straw figures received further arrows from Cáo Cāo’s firing bowmen.  A collective thank you was shouted back by Zhūgě Liàng’s men as they set sail on the river’s strong current, complete with their new arsenal.  More than 100,000 arrows were removed.  Zhōu Yú was astounded and conceded, “Zhūgě Liàng had god-like foresight and an ingenious strategy. I am no match for him.”  Zhūgě Liàng had studied the terrain, geography and weather conditions vigorously.  He knew three days was possible.

 

Later in the year 208, a monumental win for the Sūn Quán/Liú Bèi partnership occurred (giving influence to the 2008 film release of Red Cliff directed by John Woo – and countless books, like Romance of the Three Kingdoms as well as scores of nationally significant verses).  Cáo Cāo scattered with his tail between his legs to Yèchéng.  His family would later return to the fray…

 

As a result of hard graft Zhūgě Liàng became Military Advisor General of the Household.  Whilst a mouthful, it was a significant promotion.  Lingling (now Yǒngzhōu) was one of his ‘hoods he was tasked with governing, alongside Guìyáng and Chángshā.  His tax schemes helped fund the military.  Liú Bèi in the meanwhile had taken over the Yi Province – and eventually founding the Shu Han state by the year 221.  Zhūgě Liàng came to the fore.  He was soon appointed Military Advisor General.  The boss.

 

In the previous year, the proverbial hit the fan.  Cáo Pī, heir of Cáo Cāo, had declared himself Emperor, ending the Han Dynasty – and founding the Wei state.  He waged wars versus the states of Shu Han and Eastern Wu.  Liú Bèi declined a similar imperial title before our man Zhūgě Liàng used his persuasive powers.  Zhūgě Liàng succeeded Zhang Fei as Director of Retainers after his death and also shouldered the task of Imperial Secretariat.  Liú Bèi went on an attempted conquest north, failing, he was beaten back in the year 222 to Fèngjié xiàn (then known as Yong’an – and long before any Three Gorges Dam).  At the Battle of Yiling and Xiaoting, the Wu beat the Shu Han.  Liú Bèi died in 223 leaving Líu Shàn as the second Emperor of the Shu Han.  Zhūgě Liàng acted as a father and was awarded yet another title, the Marquis of Wu.  Soon enough, all state affairs were handed to him.

 

The state of Eastern Wu had become rebellious and Zhūgě Liàng sent envoys to make peace.  His diplomacy spared wars on many occasions.  The reign of Emperor Líu Shàn and his able partner Zhūgě Liàng focused on regaining territory lost following the fall of the Han dynasty.  They could not risk pushing on against the state of Wei without guaranteeing their stomping ground capital Chéngdū remained untouched by infighting.

 

How many times can you capture and release an enemy?  The year 225 is one that Zhūgě Liàng allegedly caught the dissident alliance leader Mèng Huò for the first of seven times.  Seven supposed releases followed.  That’s the historical equivalent of The Joker being captured and set loose to terrorise Gotham, episode after episode.  Fans of the early Batman materials will know that such things can and do happen.  Many leading academics including Zhang Hualan and Miao Yue laugh this off.  To some, an embellished story is just as good as any old fiction.  An old adage springs to mind:  “Don’t believe what you hear and don’t believe half of what you see.”

 

Mèng Huò ultimately swore an oath to govern his people and uphold the southern frontier of the Shu state.  The advance to the north was now conceivable for Zhūgě Liàng.  The thing with the north, in most northern hemisphere countries that is, is that the people are usually hardier.  They often survive harsh winters, lack of farm lands and other such challenges.  History, novels, movies and television warns you, if you go north, you do so at your own peril (that’s why I avoid the Scottish highlands).  So, by the year 228 after years of prearrangements, Zhūgě Liàng led his troops on a march to the Wei state.

 

Five campaigns would follow.  All but one would fail.  Local strategies and gains were made, although of little value (the impecunious Wudu and Yinping prefectures).  Zhūgě Liàng’s greatest victory was the recruitment of a Wei military officer, Jiāng Wéi.  His Shu army remarkably managed to retain around 95% of its military numbers after each defeat.

 

Ask many a Chinese person about the name Zhūgě Liàng and the response will be one tantamount to strategy and intelligence.  They may even tell you what a giant of a man he was.  Reports say he was around 195cm tall (or 8尺forearm lengths).  Like his reported size, the stories and tales around Zhūgě Liàng are big and powerful.  Luó Guànzhōng’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms has propagated an already fanned flame.  Legends, myths and history have gradually blurred into the man nicknamed Crouching Dragon into something near-immortal.

 

On checking my local bookshops, Thirty-Six Stratagems, and Mastering the Art of War, both penned by Zhūgě Liàng stand firmly on the shelves in several prints.  There’s also an abundance of material online.  Shrines are out there too:  the Temple of the Marquis of Wu in Chengdu, and the Temple of the Marquis of Wu in Baidicheng.  One things for sure, his works have inspired bilateral thinking.  The Empty Fort Strategy was an example of his reverse thinking and luring an opponent into the belief a careless leader would not use chance to gain ground.  Sīmǎ Yì’s armies fell for this trick through arrogance and has since been referred to as leaving one’s house doors unlocked (擺空城計).  Entry into the deceptively vacant city of Xicheng (where Zhūgě Liàng’s troops posed as civilians and all flags or banners were discarded with; even the city’s four gates remained open) would have drawn Sīmǎ Yì’s forces into an open ambush.  Sīmǎ Yì’s ordered his armies to retreat in case of being set up.

 

In the cooler air of the year 231’s spring, times had to change.  As flowers sprang up on the famous Mount Qi (祁山; the mountainous regions near to Longnan, Gansu), much blood was spilled at the Battle of Mount Qi.  Zhūgě Liàng’s death wasn’t to be at the hand of a sword.  It came three years later, owing to illness and stresses.  He fell on Shaanxi’s Wuzhang Plains, aged 54.  He had aimed to fall twelve years later but a ritual to do so, failed – it was interrupted by his inrushing military general Wèi Yán.  On his wishes Jiǎng Wǎn and Fèi Yī succeeded his brilliantly imposing strategic mind.  His final death title was awarded:  Loyal and Martial Marquis by Emperor Líu Shàn.  According to legend his burial tomb was at Dìngjūn Shān.

 

Zhūgě Liàng’s legacy included 24 military strategy volumes, three sons (one killed in action; one adopted but died early on), four grandchildren (one again killed in action) and long after a Hong Kong based model claiming to be a model (see Marie Zhuge Ziqi 諸葛梓岐).  A primitive landmine was invented; a wheelbarrow-based weapon sprang up; an aerial signalling lantern entered the realm of warfare and a kind of semi-automatic crossbow appeared – again this is debated amongst academics, but all agree it fired with more venom and farther than predecessors.  The Yufu Shore of the Yangtze River by Baidicheng (Chongqing) is the site of the Stone Sentinel Maze.  Whether this was a diversion or a scaremongering tactic remains to be seen.  The rival leader Lù Xùn legged it and conceded he could not defeat such a judicious adversary.

 

Next time you eat deep-fried mántóu – a popular Chinese dessert served with sweetened condensed milk – remember you’re eating the Barbarian’s head, as invented by non-other than Zhūgě Liàng.  You don’t have to throw 49 barbarian heads into a river though.  Times have changed.

 

 

For further reading:

“Zhuge Liang, Three Kingdoms Period”. TravelChinaGuide.com. Retrieved 2015/04/10. Walter Ta Huang (1967). Seven times freed. New York: Vantage Press. OCLC 2237071.

Zhuge Liang; Liu Ji; Thomas Cleary (1989). Mastering the art of war. Boston: Shambhala Publications. ISBN 978-0-87773-513-7. OCLC 19814956.

Luo Guanzhong, Three Kingdoms: A Historical Novel: Volume IV, translated by Moss Roberts. page 1889. Foreign Languages Press. Tenth Printing 2007. First Edition 1995. Beijing, China 1995. ISBN 978-7-119-00590-4.

“Zhuge Liang – Kong Ming, The Original Hidden Dragon”. JadeDragon.com. Retrieved 2015/04/10.

Walter Ta Huang (1967). Seven times freed. New York: Vantage Press. OCLC 2237071.

Zhuge Liang style-name Kongming A history of Zhuge Liang and his writings. Including a guide to historic sites in China connected with Zhuge Liang.  Retrieved 2015/04/10.

Works by Zhuge Liang at Project Gutenberg.  Retrieved 2015/04/10.

Works by or about Zhuge Liang at Internet Archive.  Retrieved 2015/04/10.

Empty Fort Strategy at Cultural China. Retrieved 2015/04/10.

 

Tomorrow, in Dongcheng’s One For The Road it is the HubHao launch party.  It looks pretty good!

APRIL 18 (SAT)
ONE FOR THE ROAD
Dongguan Hubhao Launch Party
5pm-11pm: Games for the kids, a free BBQ starting at 6:30, and live performances throughout the event. Culminating in the official launch of the Dongguan Hubhao magazine website, app, and monthly magazine. Gift bags for the first 200 register, lucky draw with over 20 prizes ranging from spa days, dinners, trips to Sanya, to a prize of his/hers iWatches.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

Written yesterday…

26/4/2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

One week has passed since the launch of HubHao.  In that week Hubhao.com failed.  The internet uploads of many an article fell on a sword.  The webmasters and extra staff recruited to repair the website aim to get it uploaded within the next few days.  The re-packed, relaunched and complete website will be online for my 32^nd-and-a-half birthday this Tuesday.  Last week’s launch party involved drinks and a massive barbecue buffet amonsgt other things.

 

Between now and the next physical magazine release, and massive web update, I need to collect my 600RMB first month’s remuneration and await the same for three articles to appear next month – plus hopefully one more article on cinema survival, and maybe mosquitoes.

 

In a week where class 602 and 601 appear to have gone all West Side Story on each other and other classes seem to be lunatics, pre-midterm exam tension has clearly arose.  The fate of a thousand students’ collective ears being bashed by angry parents at anything less than 100% passes rests on the coming week or so.  On Monday of the following week I have one class, 603 (who are several classes behind their counterparts in classes 601/602 and 604-607).  Grade 7 and 8 have exams on Monday and Tuesday.  I have zipped-doo-dah to do and no preparations as such.  On Wednesday grades 6 to 9 all go on a school trip.  I’ve been asked to go.  I will.  Where it is to, is anyone’s guess.  The teachers have all mentioned zoos, nature parks, museums and hiking.  Liam, a teacher at the International School nearby went to a museum in the nearby DaLingShan National Park.  The park celebrates the resistance against Japanese occupation – and is heavily anti-Japanese.  His students come from South Korea, Taiwan – and Japan.  Whoever organised that, did so without thought!  Our trip is probably going to be to the moon at this rate.

 

Yesterday, I was asked why we didn’t as a foreign language teacher team, do Easter activities.  I tried explaining that last year my grade 7 and 8 students made it very uncomfortable with so many questions as to why – and religion is not something we can teach.  So, I abandoned the plan.  Plus, Easter fell four weeks into the start of the semester, which from an organisation point of view is too soon – and I had no commitment to prize funding or resources from the teacher in charge of liaison between my team and the school, so struggled to get anywhere.  So, to compromise I’m going to organise a school sports day, western-style.  Expect sack races, three-legged races, beanbags between knees, planking, wheelbarrow races, egg and spoon races, target practice, archery, pea-shooting, danceathon, a blind-folded maze, hoopla, spin-the-kid penalties etc.  The Dao Ming Fantastic Fun Day will be… erm… fun and erm… fantastic.

 

This week has seen me miss football, the pub quiz at Irene’s Bar and pretty much everything inbetween, including Mikkel’s birthday meal and drinks.  Today, I feel dizzy and my nerves are on end.  I don’t know whether it is illness or the heat.  It comes and goes, but is worse in the evening.  It kind of feels like anxiety with a slight headache and a bucketful of muscle aches.  Sometimes it pays to rest to fight another day.

 

Last Sunday, after going to sleep around 5.30am and waking up at 10.30am, I had an unperturbed day of video watching and then bizarrely went to the cinema to see a film I didn’t want to see, with three of Nikki’s colleagues Snowy, Crystal and Angel (their collective age average is 20, yet they still welcome me).  Kim, bailed and a few others bailed at the very last minute.  I only went to give them the cinema card to get them cheap tickets.  Inexplicably, I ended up watching Fast & the Furious 7 in 3D.  My initial thoughts on the film were very low, extremely derogatory and belittling.  The fact that Jason Statham was in it, and the hype surrounding the death of the main star Paul Walker didn’t help.  I’m highly critical of movies and media hype.  That said my deprecating nature swept aside, the story was simple, the action scenes like a rollercoaster and the lack of acting appreciated.  The finale of the movie was actually very sweet, if not a little drawn out.  I can appreciate the slushiness and mawkishness and it drew me in.  Behind the 3D glasses a tear formed for the buddies that drove away on separate journeys did resonate.  I miss my friends and family back home.  That said, if I leave here, I’ll miss my new friends.

 

And with that schmaltziness, I need to decide this week whether to return to Blighty for good, or go on a Summer holiday to the U.K. for a month or so – and return; or opt for something new… Thailand?  Cambodia?  Japan?  South America?  I need to be crystal clear on the next move… and I’m not so good at decisions.  Or am I?!

 

More importantly, I need to jump back on the saddle.  Two weeks ago I had my fourth puncture in as many weeks.  The old therapeutic rupture machine needs to be ridden.  My psychiatrist is my bike.  It is my escape, my ease of pressure, my vessel to self evaluation and discovery.  It sits upset down awaiting either a new tyre or new innertube.  Tomorrow, it rides, it rides all day.  A week is too long to not ride, two weeks is practically unheard of (the spring festival break was four weeks without riding and that damn near killed me).

 

And this week I formatted my laptop because Word and Powerpoint kept freezing the system.  So, with this week and new battery it’ll determine if a new system is required… or not.  I do worry the laptop has passed the shelf life, but time will tell.  Locally, HP and Dell laptops are hard to find.  Acer, Lenovo, Asus and many other Chinese brands sit out there – and all have bad reviews.  I need a workhorse and each laptop I have seen has 2GB-4GB of RAM, mine has 6GB – so I won’t take a step back.  Some lack VGA ports and have no DVD drives.  I think finding genuine versions of Windows, etc is an issue.  I need to get back to the U.K. and make a life decision and a laptop decision.  Oh well, no pressure.

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

After Sun Jihai

27/4/2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

[Written in December, I think, but thought lost, only to be recovered from my laptop yesterday]

 

One chilly afternoon after a bike ride, I sat down to read a book, with my bicycle stood beside me.  After maybe twenty minutes or so later, I became aware of a man sat next to me.  The man introduced himself as Zhang Wěi Tāo (family name always precedes common names).  Tāo means wave and Wěi means big or great.  Disappointingly, though he wasn’t born by the sea.  He said is friends called him Tāo.  Tāo talked about himself a little and then asked me why I wear such a light colour of blue.  He said he rarely sees this colour.  I explained the colour was sky blue, like the sky above our heads, and was very common in Manchester, with the reasoning.  Tāo asked, “Why do you support Manchester City?”  I could have said, “I just do” and left it at that.  But, being a passionate City fanatic, I gave him a run down.  I explained about Our City, why I’m a blue, defining moments, City legends, highs, lows and more lows… he still seemed keen to listen.  I expanded about favourite players, derby day, other rivalries, away day trips… Tāo explained he knew of Sūn Jìhǎi playing in England; Li Tie (once of Everton, now assistant manager of Guǎngzhōu Héngdà Táobǎo); another Evertonian player Zhèng Zhì (who still plays at Guǎngzhōu Héngdà Táobǎo); and Dǒng Fāngzhuō (who I’d never heard of until searching online – he played for Manchester U****d, once).  He said Chinese players rarely travel, they’d miss their families too much!  Impressed by Tāo’s English ability, he asked for more…

 

Next I told of managers, the Premier League years, being Champions, the Football league, the Champions League… “Please tell me more.”  He listened with an intensity and interest level I have never experienced.  I ran great goals past him, cup runs, the FA Cup, friendlies, folklore, famous fans, families at football, great friends at games, talked about terracing, seating, Maine Road and the Etihad.  Tāo told me how he sometimes plays football with his students but they have no goals.  They have to use jumpers.  I smiled.  That is proper football!

 

Tāo asked, “Do you miss going to games?”  “Yes, very much.”  He could see I was somewhere else now, my mind wandering away, so he asked, “Do City value the community?”  I smiled, and explained City In The Community, school programmes, groups and supporter clubs in and beyond Manchester, City Giving, City and their representation at home and abroad, in World Cups and the like.  He then talked of his football memorabilia and his own experiences of football – and barely knowing who 曼城 Màn chéng (Manchester City) was and where we’re from.  His football memorabilia, was tucked in his wallet, transpired to be one simple ticket from a game between Brazil and Argentina, held in China.  He had saved up for many months to go to this game.  He talked with utmost fervency about the game.  I stole in, explained that three of the players who played that game, Demichelis, Agüero, and Zabaleta play for City.  I glossed over Robinho’s short stay at City.  “I keep the ticket.  One day I will go to Brazil and watch the same game.”

 

I looked at my watch (a City one of course) and noted we’d been chatting for one hour.  I decided I had to get back, wished him well at his cousin’s wedding and happy new year (the purpose of his gargantuan trip).  Tāo said he was an English teacher in Nánjīng and he’d offer me a job if ever I visited.  I said, maybe one day, just maybe, but not today.  Today, I am happy.  As I had a t-shirt (it is quite cold cycling at times in the recent 10°C to 21°C temperatures) underneath my football t-shirt, I gave him my football t-shirt (although large) as a gift.  I told him to use it as a goalpost next time he plays football back home.  Tāo said he thinks no matter what, City will win the league, “for your fans are so passionate and speak so clear with love for your club.  I won’t support your team but I will wish them luck.  Tell all your friends and people at the football, in China you have our best wishes.”

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye

One.

8 Feb 2015

One year has passed.  You’re not forgotten, far from it.  You’re no longer a memory, but a spirit inside us all.  Where you lived, we will live, where you watch, we will be watched.  How can we move on from having you in our lives?  We can’t.  We live with you always in our lives, always and forever.  Some feelings are meant to pass, love for you is not one of them.  I miss you Gran.  We all do.  Keep shining on, and we’ll do our best to be better.  The sky is not a limit, just a place you can watch from.  I promise to have an oven-bottom with smoked ham and salad followed by an egg custard, alongside a warm milky tea on my return to the UK.  I’ll look at the views of Lancashire and beyond, the beyond you so encouraged me to explore.

Thank you for the memories – and thank you for life, support and encouragement.

This blog will go on… in your memory, and for my memories.

Back to school with personal reflections of Qīngdǎo

3^rd March 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

Xīn nián kuàilè (Happy New Year)

 

With a sudden clobber, life returned to normality, or the closest form of familiarity and routine that my awareness allows.  Monday morning featured frantic timetable changes, a school opening ceremony for Dao Ming Foreign Language School and heaps of sitting around.  The waiting game.  Anticipation is not something I enjoy.  I have eagerness and hope by the abundance, coupled with keenness and positive expectancy.  What I lack is the ability to switch off the negativity button.  The negation of such a skill may be natural, but like a dedicated cyclist who falls off their bicycle, I want to get back on sooner rather than later.  I do not enjoy waiting.  I dread that first moment of class after any lengthy break.

 

First up for Monday, class 803, situated on the 5^th storey of the Middle School building at the north-western axis of school, hidden away.  My office sits in the 1^st storey ground floor, once again occupied by Mr Wan Hei Fae (Chinese Teacher), Mr Yang Wenbo (Maths Teacher), a plethora of mosquitoes and I.  The flights of stairs upwards are gruelling and punishing usually, but after this Spring break I feel more than prepared.  On entering class, expectation of me was high.  Excitement dampened down, as the toll of new homework and class demands arose.  Whilst I don’t set homework, this was their second class of the day and the students already had a duo of homework sheets for mathematics.  The usual sneaky attempts to complete said task went noticed and extinguished with just a glance.  Each student knowingly in the wrong hid their work away.  The class plundered on like a freight train gaining momento before a crescendo of point scoring using a board resembling a dartboard and some Velcro balls.  One team had five marks so they got five throws to determine their points, whilst other teams had two to four marks.  On the colourfull Velcro board lay points from 5 to 100.  Team one scored 10 points from 2 throws, team two’s five attempts gave them 30 points, team three converted their 3 throws into 70 points holding off team four’s four throws and 10 points.  The game went down a treat.  Time to think of new ideas and then deploy more things to look forward to.  Later in class 804, the game was also a success.

 

On Sunday, I spent hours with teachers essentially creating my class timetable – and in an odd state of coincidence, we’ve collectively recreated last semester’s timetable, give or take a few minor changes.  So classes 601-607 get one lesson each.  701 to 704 all get two lessons.  801-804 get one lesson apiece.  VIP classes, the teachers’ classes and a few other matters have yet to be arranged.  For this week I have a standard nineteen periods lasting 40 minutes each.  Although, due to an extended flag-raising and school opening ceremony, class 603 fell by the wayside.

 

A month away from Houjie seems like a lifetime in some respects.  In others, the memories are as fresh as yesterday evening’s cooling drizzle.  Leaving Houjie on the 31^st of January, by way of a 300RMB taxi from the Sheraton Hotel to Shenzhen Airport (Terminal 3, domestic departures), was to leave 12°C relative warmth and coolness.  This week, the temperature lows have been 16°C and highs of 24°C.  After departing the taxi and passing through security, where the female security officer tickled my feet in the body search, Costa Coffee’s cappuccino and panini was had.  Flight Shandong Airlines SC4682 (costing 951.5RMB a seat) departed and three hours later landed in Qingdao.  The inflight apple peel snack wrappers dropped into a bin as a further 300RMB taxi (Qingdao Liuting International Airport is 22km away from the hostel) was boarded (it being late at night and no buses were to be seen).  On arrival in crisp, cool, icy winter air (-4°C) check in was completed at the Qingdao Huayang Youth Hostel for 360RMB per person over 4 nights.  Hostels opposite majot hotels like Holiday Inn, are easy to find.  The tower block is No.2, Xuzhou Road.  Looking from the Holiday Inn, across the road, it was certainly easy to locate.  Getting beyond the security gate required a call to the hospitable proprietor.  On arrival you’re made to feel at home.

 

The hostel features a very personal touch.  It doesn’t have a restaurant inside, but it does have a shared use kitchen.  You could even have meals cooked by the owner.  There is no end of welcoming.  A tennis court can be used, wi-fi is strong enough to listen to BBC Manchester’s football coverage online, there’s a washing machine, a fan, proper water-piped central heating, and a good strong shower.  The shared lounge features board games, a book exchange, cosy sofas and much more.  Location wise, it is right by the bus routes for many areas nearby.  The hostel is a short stroll to the Olympic Sailing Center (1.7km), Zhongshan Park (3.2 km) and as such very close to the city centre, seafront and many regional attractions.

 

The first full day, and first day of February was spent walking the coastline.  The skyline of Qingdao is exceptional, modern skyscrapers interlope with western style buildings many years old from Germanic, Russian, and other occupied or shared histories.  Amongst them new, old and occasionally communist style Chinese buildings spring up.  The beaches are clean, although at this time of year pockets of ice could be found littering them!  The walk south from the hostel involved views of the majestic Olympic Sailing Bay, an old naval base now museum, Xiao Qingdao Island (well worth the ¥15 entrance fee), views inwards of the oddly placed St. Michael’s Cathedral (Tiānzhǔjiàotáng), and the concrete pier Zhànqiáo (you can see this on bottles of Tsingtao Beer in the logo).  The pier pavilion houses a sadly dull aquarium and tourist stall area, making the 5RMB entrance questionable at best.  The evening’s 12” pizza meal (137.5RMB per head), alongside mash, garlic bread and calamari ended a thoroughly relaxing jaunt.  A bus back costing 1RMB saved the flats of the feel for another day.

 

Beginning the 2^nd day where you left off is easy, diving onto the number 316 bus, alighting at the pier sets you back 1RMB.  The coast can be followed around further bus does end at a naval base, effectively forcing you to turn around.  Here the number 217 bus can get you to Xinhaoshan Park (Signal Hill) and for a further 13RMB you gain entry, after a few steep steps.  The rotating teashop within the old German signalling station is dated, but the view is fantastic.  Whilst the smell of vending machine coffee and strawberry teas wafts by, the seats on the outer rim look out on fantastic scenery.  The grounds are worth an eyeball, lofty pathways take you past fountains, many Jays flutter by or forage along the pathways, and the views are again very good.  From here, boarding the 217 bus allows you to visit the market areas surrounding the Qīngdǎo Píjiǔchǎng (Tsingdao Brewery).  In this area you can eat chealy and drink even cheaper.  Sweet potato fried, egg wraps surrounded by shredded vegtables and various western influenced drinks are plentiful.  Beer is sold by weight, rather than by the bottle. 500g, or half a litre is served to you from a plastic bag. 

 

Bus 104 from nearby the nearby Hong Kong Middle Road costs 3RMB.  The journey to Láo Shān highlights how big a city Qingdao is and how big it shall be one day.  The journey takes around one hour.  The Qingdao Laoshan National Park entrance demands you enter it by bus.  The ticket is ¥130 (Tàiqīng Gōng/The Temple of Supreme Purity is a further ¥20).  There are many walks through the beautiful mountain scenery featuring caves, ancient gates, ridges, valleys and temples.  The granite landforms are spectacular set against the backdrop of the sea.  The cypress trees, other flora and natural landscaping make for a wonderful scene.  Some places are meant to be hiked.  This is one such gem.  The view from the Taiping Lion’s Rock of the fishing villages below providing a spectacle.  Coaches protect the park from far too many cars entering it, and as such you can be ferried from the feet of many mountain climbs easily to further valley hiking areas.  The air temperature does drop drastically with sea mist.  Endure the cold, see far more.

 

Departing Qīngdǎo, as my Grandad once did in the mid 1940’s, I hoped it isn’t another 70 years or so before an Acton sets foot there again.  The taxi on return was metred, the driver did stop half way for a toilet break, but 83RMB seemed like great and fair value for money.  The taxi even included onboard computer games.  I set a highscore on Crazy Golf.  Hainan Airlines HU7253 departed ontime, landing only and hour and a half later.  At 1006.5RMB per ticket it was expensive but saved on the 13 hour train journey time, in a period where tickets were unavailable.  After a slightly longer than necessary walk from the airport bus drop off point, check in was completed for 630RMB per person (for 7 nights) at the Hash International Youth Hostel.  Now drugs in China, are massively frowned upon.  If the drugs don’t kill you, the death penalty will.  So, to stay at a hostel sporting a leaf of a banned tetrahydrocannabinol narcotic seemed odd.  The room featured no windows, a very hot radiator and had many places to bang your head, I doubt consuming drugs would help your stay.  After a lavish western style burger slider meal and yoghurts totalling 154RMB for one person, you’d have thought I was on drugs.  The freezing conditions outside in the days to come would be testing…

“Ahhhhhh…. ahhhhhhhhhh….. We come from the land of the ice and snow…”

6^th March 2015

Hā’ěrbīn has many variations written in the romanized style, Harbin, Haerbin, Ha’rbin.  The city sprung up on the banks of the Songhua River as a byproduct of railway engineers maintaining the famous Trans-Siberian Railway living in the few villages of the 19^th century locality.  Oddly the name哈尔滨translates as a place for drying fishing nets.  The city has since been hugely influenced by White Russian émigrés, Estonians, Lithuanians, Polish, Germans, Jewish, Ukranians, Tatars and may other immigrations of history.  The Japanese invasion of 1931 gave rise to the presence of Kempeitai, the birth of the infamous Unit 731 (the museum is located at Qīnhuárìjūnde 731 Bùduìyízhǐ)  and many other atrocities.  Thankfully, few reminders are present.  The city is a hive of life and activity.  In more recents Harbin has persisted to progress.  Industry has thrived, winter sport games have been held frequently and the world famous ice and snow festivals can be found on Sun Island (太阳岛; Tàiyángdǎo), Zhaolin Park (Zhàolíngōngyuán) and at the Ice and Snow World (冰雪大世界).

 

For just 10RMB, Jílèsì (极乐寺; The Temple of Heavenly Bliss) can be explored.  The large and mostly active – even in extreme cold – temple houses some amazing structures and sculptures.  During February flakes of snow gave it an eery winter atmosphere.  There is a subway station nearby to Dōngdàzhíjiē and a much more eery fairground closed for winter scattered around remains of old Russian churches.  After visiting there 59RMB at Hans restaurant (金汉斯啤酒烤肉), a Germanic themed joint seemed good value, and included large beers.  Sadly, the Bavarian ditties on the television sang by hairy men accompanied by large breasted ladies does take away any element of relaxation.  In some ways the videos looked like an Englishman’s stereotypical view of Germany, shattering the real culture of such a modern wonderful country with just one set of lederhosen.  February the 7^th also seen some snow flurries, so the restaurant served as good respite from the elements.

 

The food also ended my tortuous taste sensation, having purchased a cheesecake earlier.  Why was the cheesecake 28RMB?  What was the lady in the bakery continually asking me?  It was durian fruit!!!!  Durian fruit, for those unknown to it, smells like the worst body odour you have ever smelt, a sewer full of rotten detritus, decaying corpses, and pretty much every bad smell you have ever experienced all at the same time.  The first taste is like licking a sweaty armpit.  The second taste is gloriously over-sweet and sour, yet delightful.  The tastes thereafter are like tasting the best unsweetened custard you’ll ever be blessed to try.  Sadly, the after taste resembles the first taste and it can make you want to urinate far too much.  As a raw fruit, you always smell it, before you see the spiky mega-melon.  Just be warned, it is better as a food component than a raw fruit.  That is an entirely more unpleasant story.

 

Haws, Hāěrbīnhóngcháng (Smoked sausage), Chuàn’ér (meats on a stick), Russian breads and Chūnbǐng (Spring rolls) could be found frequently in the city.  Dōngfāngjiǎoziwáng (Oriental Dumpling King) demanded two visits.  It was cheap (48RMB one time/60RMB the second time) and delicious, located just below the cobbled pedestrian streets of Zhōngyāngdàjiē (中央大街;middle central big street).  The long old road runs from Jingwei Jie to Stalin Park at the river and is completely surrounded by an old quarter of European style buildings.  Plaques adorn each interesting building reading of their illustrious pasts, whether they are Baroque, Byzantine, Jewish, French or more recent.

 

Staying at Hash International Youth Hostel meant one thing.  Unlike most restaurants or bars, where cool air seeps in through busy ever-swinging doors, the hostel was a veritable heat trap.  The rooms are spacious, simple, and effective.  The reception has plenty of information, in English, Chinese and a little Russian.  The location is spot on for exploration.  A bus (many choices, 88, 64, and 94 pass most of the central and river areas with the former bus crossing over and being close to the snow world, Polarland and tiger park) from the road behind the hostel can be taken easily.  There is a well-priced bar and the surrounding neighbourhood features restaurants, and a huge western style shopping mall (200 metres away, with food in the basement floor and top floor).  A good bathroom with a very good shower.  Outside on the main road it was easy to get a taxi, the city seems to be thriving on short-distance taxi journeys.  The hostel promoted my trips and excursions but it is possible to do them yourself for far less, and with fewer time limits.  The downside to the hostel was the room had no window, poor ventilation as such and the food menu ends very early.

 

The river Songhua freezes for a large fraction of winter.  At which time, the horse rides, sleds, dog sledges, ice-buggies, ice-tanks, skis, sliding devices and ice-zorbs pop onto the river.  The word play to the Chinese becomes a requisite demand rather than an option.  The riverbank from the town side looks towards the Sun Island with the large railway bridge to your right.  On foot, the distance over the frozen river must be close to one kilometre.  The gondolier/cable-cart is a quick chilly option to pass over it and admire the sunkissed icy tundra below.  However, the foot option is the most exciting, if not testing.  Protecting the body from bitter glacial disdainful breezes is a necessity.  -22°C and windchill factor are not great friends to hang around with.  Having experienced frostbite in my nose on a return journey across the ice, I can vouch for that!

 

One evening, Tatoc (established 1901 complete with original interior and furnishings), a Russian restaurant was tried and at 87RMB per person the food is okay, however the cool air chilled the food far too fast.  The Borsch was excellent.  Throughout the stay in Harbin, Costa Coffee (there are several branches) was an essential calling point for breakfasts and coffees.  One day an American former Policeman/UN Peacekeeper strolled in, talking rather overzealously about his teaching experiences and subsequent exiled state in Harbin.  Americans as expats can either be so loud they are annoying or so passionate it will inspire and excite you, or in this guy’s case, a teller of tall tales.  Anything is possible, but surely not everything?!

 

On the 8^th day of February, one bus ride in heavy traffic later, a pair of new gloves purchased (and ripped within an hour), the third crossing of the frozen river heading to the northbank and a short stumble by Russia World (it may have been called that, it resembled Jurassic Park but full of Russian cultural exhibits, dancers, sculptures, Russian handsome men and beautiful ladies.  It looked awfully tacky) the destination of the Sun Island International Snow Sculpture Art Fair was reached.  230RMB was given to the kiosk staff, entry was gained.  My new gloves were replaced by my old gloves.  The air temperature during that day was floating between -18°C and -22°C (Most nights in Harbin it dropped to -32°C).  The park was amazing with scultures ranging from Charles Darwin, William Shakespeare, Minions, animals, Disney characters to landmarks and famous cultural scenes.  Afterwards a taxi back cost 120RMB to travel the short distance back.  The cold weather being too much to brave the river crossing under the cover of darkness – and a convenient lack of buses.

 

The Sun Island International Snow Sculpture Art Fair (太阳岛国际雪雕艺术博览会; Tàiyángdǎo guójì xuědiāoyìshù bólǎnhuì) makes up one of the three main components of the Harbin International Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival.  One of the other two chunks is the huge area that is the Ice and Snow World (冰雪大世界; bīngxuě dàshìjiè), again in the northbank of the river, but west of Sun Island by around 2km.  The smaller Ice Festival, Zhaolin Park (冰雪游园会, 兆麟公园; Bīngxuě yóuyuánhuì, Zhàolíngōngyuán) is located in the centre of the city on the southern bank.  The smaller park is fantastic to see smaller sculptures, lanterns and is set in a rather quaint park.  ¥200 entry does seem a little much in comparison to the bigger parks, but when you’re exploring and enjoying it, why not?!  The larger park costs 300RMB and requires much more time than one evening.  There is a disappointing indoor ice and dance show with a cast of Russians – I personally was annoyed to have queued up for that.  Outside there are hundreds of scultures, many slides, ski slopes, bars and cafes amongst an utopia of frozen creativity.  The number 88 bus stops by the park gate and cost 1RMB from the city to get there.  Afterwards you just don’t want to leave!  For 130RMB you can enter Polarland, an indoor polar wildlife park towards Sun Island.  If you like seeing squashed in Polar bears, Beluga whales and sad looking Artic foxes then this the place.  Chinese zoos and wildlife parks lack animal welfare and are sadly so far backwards, I can never see myself going to visit such a place out of curiousity ever again.

 

For a relaxed final day, a wander to St. Sophia Cathedral (圣索非亚教堂; Shèngsuǒfēiyàjiàotáng) seemed to do the trick.  I’m not massively into churches and strongly not of the religious irk.  However, a stand alone chuch, cathedral, synagogue, mosque etc stood amongst other buildings does strike at the heart.  Be it defiance or strength of beliefs, I respect how religions hold their own sometimes in societies not indoctrinated to such worships.  As Orthodox churches go, it was quite interesting, costing just ¥20.  The slightly ran down interior houses the Harbin Museum of Architecture, in essence a collection of old photographs of bygone days.  Later that evening the cold, following an hour riding an ice-sled (made from old school seats) demanded the sampling of a local specialities, hot sausages on sticks.  With respect to the hot Coca-Cola… give that one a wide berth.  I’d imagine that is the reason old sailors drank urine on long journeys… it was that or hot Coca-Cola.

 

On the next freezing morning, the 100RMB taxi departed very early, drove along almost empty roads before reaching the airport.  The catchily coded flight 3U8859 departed and in just over an hour landed at Mǎnzhōulǐ, Inner Mongolia.

“Wǒ ài Mǎnzhōulǐ”

March 6^th 2015

Mǎnzhōulǐ isn’t particularly exciting, it isn’t dull, it isn’t very plain and it isn’t very bold.  This is a city that lives in shadows and is far more functional than attractive.  Getting deep and far on the plains of Inner Mongolia in Winter is nigh on impossible, and practically a request to commit suicide.  The night temperatures are far too extreme with −40°C not unheard of.  The daily mean average temperature for the period of time from the 11^th to the 14^th was a relatively warm -20°C.  No snow happened throughout this timeframe.  Oddly, as the airplane neared landing after flying from Harbin’s covered snowscape all the way north over mountains, hills and fields of snow, a few kilometres prior to landing and the snow covered surfaced ended abruptly.  A vast frozen lake, Hūlún Hú, sat just south of the city (and was viewed from the aircraft), but for this journey remained off target to explore.  The extreme cold switches off nature in this region, few animals would be seen.  The lake being surrounded by plains meant few trees and little mountainous habitats.

 

After a shared taxi (100RMB) with two other travellers, check in was completed.  The Super 9 Hotel (249RMB/person for 3 nights) staff are friendly, helpful, and their communication is great.  The winter ice sculpture festival was brilliant to explore (even if it had closed and was left derelict – with the song “Wǒ ài Mǎnzhōulǐ” on loop).  The local food is great (37.5RMB at a local restaurant/75RMB at a cafe/87.5RMB at an Italian style pizza place) and it is very easy to avoid fast food (there are three KFCs, a pizza hut and McDonald’s, for the latter you must go to the northern part of the town and the large Wanda Plaza).  Buses are cheap but there’s only ten routes so getting lost is quite hard.  The Russian doll plaza, and border museum (the museum was closed to non-Chinese people but the entrance features a steam train and airplane as well as great views) are north of the town, near to a mausoleum on the aiport road.  There is a stadium and what appears to be an opera house upon high too.  There are many local parks and sculptures scattered throughout the city are worth a wander.  Stray camels and donkeys aren’t unusual.    The visit was during Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) meaning Manzhouli was practically a ghost city.  Very few Russians were present and the many stores and shops that sell to the visiting Russians remained closed.  As did most restaurants, street-markets and hotels.  The main squares with full of hawkers flogging fireworks and Chinese New year related paraphernalia.  The city is full of taxi drivers eager to cash in on foreigners and a 70RMB return taxi journey to the airport soon became 70RMB each and then 200RMB as the taxi driver and other taxi drivers became confrontational.  That sort of thing leaves a bitter taste.  The durian fruit of people.  Like most people who know of the city, I think it is only worth passing through, not staying.  Manzhouli has charm, a style unlike any other area in China or Russia, but with extreme winters, I couldn’t live there.  On Valentine’s Day flight HU7116 (Hainan Airlines) departed Manzhouli soon after, destination:  Beijing.  Flight time:  2.5 hours.

“The New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.” *

22^nd March 2015

“To survive a war, you gotta become war.” John James Rambo.  The doors of our carrier opened out wide.  Chris and I took the first wave of impacts to our chests.  Luckily neither of us was injured.  In scenes resembling the D-Day landings of Saving Private Ryan we alighted the bus, seeking shelter from incoming jets, mortar fire, aerial assaults and full blown frontal attacks.  The enemy had sighted our party of seven westerners and two Chinese translators (fānyì).  Unarmed we quickly sought munitions.  One ammo store wanted 80RMB for something resembling a weapon from Men In Black.  We could not negotaiate so fled as we took further hits to our torsos.  Face shots rained through the bushes from our left as we ducked along the still cars flooding the road.  The apocalypse had began.

 

A blue cannon gun was purchased, charged with ammunition and my co-fighters Chris (Hartlepoole where they hung a monkey), Josefine (Denmark), Nikki (Cornwall), Liane (Bedfordshire, U.K.), Tina (Russia), Cliadhna (Ireland) flanked by our translation squadron Crystal and Selina set off along the roadside.  The battle of Dongkeng (东坑) was well and truly under way.  The Water Splashing Festival and Labour Selling Festival takes places annually and if your body is entirely covered in water, it is said to bring you a year of luck.  That is until you get the water bill.  Along the long stretches of road, hundreds of businesses, from powertool sellers to restaurants to hairdressers all stock water pistols, waterbombs, buckets, balloons, inflatable hammers, ponchos, and allow refills for your gun at 1RMB a go.  Some give out free water.  Some assist you and bring bottles to top your weaponry up.

 

From alighting the number 76 bus from Dongcheng bus station prematurely due to gridlocked traffic to the main square of Dongkeng, wave after wave of gangs assaulted to yells and shouts of “lǎowài” (old outsider or foreigner).  Every so often one or two gangs would surround us holding their hands in the air to signal to others, we fell under their protection.  The onslaught would abate briefly until we advised we had been split from our group and needed to reconnect soon after.  Our experience lasted over two hours.  Nine of us set out, eight returned.  Josefine became lost and due to wet phones and the risk of further damage, calls were not an easy option.  Even in waterproof pouch my passport and phone, alongside some money was swamped.  Standing underneath people’s apartments to make calls wasn’t an option.

 

Zài jiàn

 

*We_shall_fight_on_the_beaches excerpt.

 

The year of the goat emerges

22^nd March 2015

Běijīng (北京, north capital) is huge.  Second to only Shanghai in the People’s Republic of China by way of population.  On Valentine’s day the flight from Manzhouli followed an experience 200RMB taxi to the aiport.  Prior to that further exploration of the area had been done.  Now the capital of the most populated country in the world was under my feet.  The digs was to be the value for money Beijing Feelinn Hostel costing 525RMB for 7 nights.  The location in the hutongs is right within reach of The Forbidden City.  The hostel featured a standard bar and restaurant in the reception area with plenty of advice for tours, walks, places to see.  The rooms were warm and simple with a little wallmounted television.  The bathroom was so tiny that legroom wasn’t possible whilst enthroned on the western toilet.  A short walk from two subway stations and inner city bus routes would bring you to this hostel.  Nearby plenty of restaurants, snack markets and shops open late nearby and its side street location ensures no traffic noises interupt your shut eye.  As city centre locations go, this was perfect. The shower practically over ther toilet wasn’t great but needs must.

 

On the smoggy afternoon of the 15^th of February, the surprisingly quiet Forbidden City became the destination for exploration.  At 40rmb for the entrance ticket, and a further 40rmb for a foreign language headset represented good value.  Many words can be said for the experience but for this day no words shall be written.  Some places have to be experienced for yourself.

 

Mùtiányù was the next destination.  For 260RMB a return coach journey, lunch and entrance to a large section of the Great Wall was an absolute bargain.  Prior to arriving in China, every image of media, TV, movies and aerial shots shows how long it is.  Until you see it, it cannot be comprehended.  When looking in two directions, seeing ramparts, turrets and fortified walls jut in and out of mountain ranges and straddle ridges as far as the eye can see.  This section dates as far back as the mid-6th century during the Northern Qi.  In the distance at Jiànkòu you can see the esceptionally steep watch tower known as “The Eagle Flies Facing Upward” (鹰飞倒仰 / 鷹飛倒仰).  The walk to the wall took over 4000 steps and umpteen pints of sweat.  A set of stairs one shop worker carried up 4 crates of water and 24 bottles of Coca Cola.  I struggled.  He breezed it.  The wall, the feeling of freedom, the cool breeze on the skin, the sunlight in your eyes gave the feeling of magic to the Great Wall.  A truly wonderful wonder of the world.  Beyond the wall on both flanks lie streams far below in thick forestry.  After a murky day in Běijīng here was inventiveness, abandon and candour that a city setting will never ever provide.  The main area of 2.2km can be walked, some of the ruined sections had to be accessed by passing a sign that said, “do not pass.”  It had to be done.  The wild and unrestored sections are as deeply interesting as the perfect 7-8.5 metres high sections spanning 4 to 5 metres.

 

That evening’s pub quiz at The BookWorm in Běijīng where I met a fellow City fan and our team won a bottle of wine could not compete with the emotions experienced at The Great Wall.  The following days would teater on spiritual at places such as the Lama Temple; exceitment and pride of seeing British medal winners engraved on the walls at the Olympic Park; seeing the nationalism at the flag closing ceremony in Tiān’ānmén (天安門) square with the Gate of Heavenly Peace as the backdrop; exploring the temple fairs; resting in Costa coffee; eating in the side streets of Guǐjiē (where Bĕijīng kăoyā – Beijing duck – had to be sampled); enjoying the light displays of the Performing Arts Centre; walking through snowfall at the Temple of Heaven (Tiāntán) whilst admiring the traditional ceremonial shows (in toal around 70RMB well spent); and so much more.  With the last day a perusual of Xiùshuǐjiē (beautiful water street; or Silk Street!) demanded a 100RMB Indian food meal.

 

For the 18^th – of the eve of Chinese New year – Hòuhǎi lake was the destination.  Liam joined with half a dozen hostel stayers and we convened at several bars around the lake, particularly over an ancient bridge.  Liam had with him a guy called Chris who lives and works in Běijīng.  He advised that this was the place to see fireworks, around the Silver Ingot Bridge.  Intially we disbelieved this as display after display went off in every direction many kilometres away but none within our purlieu.  Soon after box after box of firework was laid down, one after the pther, firecrackers were alight at your feet, bangers were here and there, many flashes and bangs happened here, there and everywhere.  You couldn’t just watch these dangerous and yet beautiful explosives go off, you were part of it.  Held hostage by no way out.  Every path spelt danger.  The Police assisted local and expatriate patrons alike with lighting the rockets, the pyrotechnics, varied volatile materials that produce so many colours.  After many an hour the fireworks died down dramataically and soon enough cleaners cleaned up the mountainous piles of debris and detritus.  The year of the Goat emerged long before.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in Běihǎi

6/1/2015

Forget standing in a line.  Why congregate in a formation of structure?  Spread out.  Dot the odd scooter in for fun.  Hide a three-wheeled rickshaw in for good measures.  Make it a challenge.  We all line up behind a police officer, armed with a whistle.  A stray female lurches forward but is beaten back by a blast of sound.  The Policeman’s whistle is something you feel.  Impatience is defeated, bodies flicker forwards and back ready to charge.  Nobody can go.  Eyes are left on the adjacent traffic lights.  Eyes look forward at the little red man.  When will he go?  He stands firm.  Traffic spins from all angles, left, right and centre.  Eventually our time will come.

Without warning the red man is replaced by a jolly skipping green man.  The feet are moving forward.  Rickshaws and moped rev and zip across every possible angle.  The crowd surge forward from each opposing side.  From above, a bird’s eye view could be reminiscent of battle scenes from Braveheart, or Lord of The Rings.  Eventaully the first wave of scooters and rickshaws meet in the middle, foot passengers converge further and eventually everyone vies for inches of space.  Space to the left, space to the right, it all remains scarce.  The whistling law enforcement officers at either end of the melee look on.  The commotion has to end.  With confusion, each soul edges through, the free-for-all tactics and tussles die down.  A skirmish has been avoided as each destination is reached.  The struggle to cross the manic road is over.  Not a word has been spoken by any user.  A silent battle of Xiàngqí (Chinese Chequers) has been won by all.  There are no casualties.

Aside from crossing roads in Běihǎi, some sun was soaked up, albeit passively.  The city of Běihǎi is one of the world’s fastest growing cities.  To be there, is to understand why.  In all directions loiters construction after construction after, you guessed it, construction.  On a bike ride south and east of the city, the apparent reclamation of massive belts of the Fengjia river floodplains into desert-like plains of aridness could be seen as far as the eye could see, and beyond.  Alongside this a new road structure meanders the coastline, often slicing through areas of beauty like a knife through butter.  The smaller streams of Xiacun have disappeared, buried and now running underground.  Haijing Dàjiē banks south as the main construction site of a road banks north.  Here you pay to enter the obviously named Beihai Mangrove Ecological Tourism Natural Nature Reserve (it seems every sign had a different name for this place).  Mudskippers, Horseshoe Crabs, Fiddler Crabs and other such strange crabs could be seen with ease.

Other means of transport taken on the excursion included buses (for a massive 1.5¥ and 2¥ per journey) and the obligatory taxi journey resembling something found at a funfair.  One such journey by bus arrived us at the old street of town.  After the 1876 Sino-British Treaty of Yantai, several Western nations (including the U.K.) set up consulates, hospitals, churches, schools, and maritime customs in Běihǎi.  There is a heavily damaged and aging western style area.  The remains of old buildings are mostly inhabited but under severe attrition.  The area could easily feature in a remake of Oliver Twist, or equally a more modern western story.  These colonial buildings are often being repaired but the vast majority shall, without quick protection, rot away.  Not too far from here is a poor man’s Sea Life Centre.  The Underwater World was in all honesty, a little bit shit.  There is apparently a better place called Oceanorama, which was poorly advertised locally.

At the western end of Haijing Dàjiē, the Guantouling National Forest Park rises up above the sea and city coating the headland in perfect layers of green foliage.  The number 6 bus ended here, in an uninviting looking carpark.  A few steps to the left and around a scooter park and perfect golden sand wrapped around your toes.  The 26°C heat helping to add a touch of summer to winter in this humid subtropical climatic region.  The first sunburn of the year was encountered.  That, and many different wedding photos being stumbled upon.  Here was a photographers’ paradise, with great swathing beaches and crumbling rock-pools to aim the viewfinder towards.

So from arriving into a sleepy Běihǎi on New Year’s Eve at 11pm to departing around 8pm yesterday, a quick refreshing winter break was had.  Today, in Houjie it is 22°C and sunny but it feels mild.

Christmas in Houjie

Christmas Eve marked the final 5 classes relating to Christmas.  The problem of using the same material for 5 classes, is that, when you have back-to-back classes in can tear you apart mentally and tire you very fast.  As the fatigue sapped energy, the students’ competitive spirit and happy responses abated any feelings of nausea.  I found that for every class, I could twist and vary the structure enough to squeeze a little extra out of it.  The cookies and sweets (candy) given out as presents or prizes helped things.

In the evening our collective foreign group scattered for Dongcheng to eat western food.  Kira (from Germany) and Micaela (from Sweden) celebrate Christmas with their family more so on Christmas Eve.  The bus journey involved a stop at a petrol station for the drover to refuel our chariot.  Half the bus alighted and then lighted.  Smoking in a petrol station isn’t just wrong, it is damn stupid.  Without creating our own version of the Christmas caper Die Hard, we departed again.  On switching buses from the L1 to the C1, we diverted our journey to the bus depot to drop off the driver’s cash.  After the added ten minutes, we arrived and all legged it to the English themed bar One For the Road.  The bar is excellent with a fine range of western and eastern foods.  The interior and exterior could be any public house in the U.K.  On arrival, Jason, the owner of the establishment, advised it would be 45 minutes before the kitchens reopened as it was so busy.  We all agreed to have a few drinks and bide out that time.  Hunger could wait after the longer than usual bus journeys.  Sadly, after one hour, Jason apologised.  The kitchen would not reopen, he handed us a 100RMB voucher each as way of apology.  By which time, Rossi had arrived.  So Rossi and I tottled up the road as an advanced scout group.  Roadhouse, American owned, had spaces at the inn.  Everyone arrived, we had some luxury grub and drank BrewDog IPA, all the way from Dundee.  Santa called by the bar, gave us all a free hat, spoke something merry with an Australian twang before departing for what I’d assume was a busy night ahead and behind.

On Christmas Day, a grim smoggy white skied Christmas, I arose, eventually.  To Irene’s Bar I departed.  Here I helped prepare food alongside Icy, Irene, Marcus Nikki, and Kira.  It was most relaxing.  Over time, more folk turned up and the game of Scattergories was played, often with a competitive edge tantamount to aggression.  Lunch was fantastic and many a drink was wassailed.  Family was clearly missed by all expats and emotions seemed penned back by many.  Christmas truly is a time for families to come together.  The experience was a testing one but thankfully Marcus and Irene were very welcoming and accommodating.  Thank you!

Boxing Day meant a return to school.  The scheduled Arts Festval moved to the following Tuesday.  A threat of rain that never came being good cause to shuffle the date backwards.

For Saturday evening, Snowy and Crystal from Nikki’s school joined Kira, Micaela, Emily, Nikki and I for food at One For The Road.  The 100RMB vouchers being put to good use.

On Sunday, Rossi and I met to go bike shopping.  His assistance helped me to purchase new wheels.  We ate lunch in a Hongkongnese restaurant instructing a recipe for a Sichuan style spicy dish or two.  Later than evening Rossi insisted I joined him and his friends for lamb.  So, we had a leg and some ribs of a lamb on a spit.  It was delicious.  I cycled back, well aware that the evening air had cooled to around 8°C with a slight cool breeze in tow.

Aside from the Art Festival, more shall follow later on this… most of this week, yesterday, was a simple day, rounding off the oral English exams for grade 6 and typing up the necessary results.  With only 3 students (all off ill) from 275 exams remaining, the lowest percentage has been 68% and the highest 100%.  The overall average is 99%.  Considering the tasks are a little harder than the previous year’s missions, this is far from bad.  I personally think it is too easy but the teachers all agree it is much harder than a standard grade 6 paper and closer to that of a grade 7 oral exam paper.

By the end of the day my textbooks were handed back, my staples and pens removed from my draws, and a few quiet goodbyes were said.  I’ll be back…

Notes:

The word rickshaw originates from the Japanese word jinrikisha (人力車, 人 jin = human, 力 riki = power or force, 車 sha = vehicle), which literally means “human-powered vehicle”.

Post #95: The Arts Festival

6/1/2015

One thing Chinese schools do well is confidence boosting school shows.  They happen at the end of each semester, sandwiched between in lesser forms on a frequent basis.  Students here get chances to shine, be seen for their talents and often receive a wide audience.  Most parents arrive in their hundreds and often bring close family members.  On stage the student will face an audience of thousands.  Do the students shy away?  No, they get on with the job in hand.  They embrace the challenge.  I personally hate to stand in front of big rooms full of people and detest the idea of standing before a crowd, yet deep down, I do crave an audience a little, just an insignificant amount, enough to take the chances presented before me.  With a team, I think everyone had more confidence in their collective effort than my lack of art skills.  It did feel like I was the deadweight being pulled along…

 

Image:  The middle one is a teacher.

 

For many a week, and many an hour, Kira, Joe, Micaela and I had been rehearsing a Disney Medley of songs accompanied by simple actions.  After many shy showings to the principal, Miss Jiang and the other school directors, we were as ready as could be.

 

Image:  An adaptation of The Star Money or The Star Talers (or Die Sterntaler) by The Brothers Grimm (or Die Brüder Grimm), Jacob (1785–1863) and Wilhelm Grimm (1786–1859).

 

The DaoMing Foreign Language School 5^th Technology & Art Festival had been moved to the 30^th of December 2014.  The weather was fantastic, sunny warm and not a spot of air movement.  Sunburn was a possibility.  The entire school’s students, parents and teachers alike sought shade under umbrellas, school newspapers and other improvised visors.  The theme tune for the occasion rumbled over several speakers.  Performers on the day dotted close to stage, behind stage in grade 3’s classrooms, now converted to dressing rooms.  Our foreign teacher contingent stood close to stage in anticipation of the acts ahead.  The principal, the president of the Oxford Education Group and other parties made speeches.  Students gave messages of aspiration, hope and a great future ahead.  Then the principal gathered leaders of the local education authority with him, hit a button and blew up the school.  It was loud, ear-shattering, BANG!  Smoke lifted up the walls of the school exterior, colours blended in like an advert for a leading high definition T.V. company, and a cloud formed high above.  A formation of helium balloons drifted overhead, released seconds earlier by the students.  Music billowed out, a second stream of fireworks discarded left, right and centre.

 

Image:  Mr Wan Hei Fae, a Chinese teacher from my office, leads his school choir.  A dance teacher dances infront, because behind the choir would serve no use to anyone.

 

After a few fabulous acts, some a little strange, including Kung Fu, dancing and singing, up we stepped.  It is safe to say, after seeing so many well-tailored costumes, so many refined songs and so many choreographed dances that we were Vanarama Football Conference to the student’s UEFA Champions League.  It was all a bit of fun, and it felt fun, just about!  Any nerves disappeared as I tried to fathom out the functioning and non-functioning of the microphone, it went on and off frequently early on, and later on.  The five minutes or so, seemed too short, yet in practice they seemed too long.  It is funny how the mind experiences the same thing in varying ways.

 

Image:  The executives, directors and special guests.

 

Afterwards, we could observe the remaining performances (some were very eye-opening, asn I suspect totally unacceptable in the U.K.) and relax.  It truly felt a privilege to be involved with, to witness and to enjoy such a wonderful day.  I’d also like to have it on record that more sky blue has started to appear recently.  I think the battle against all things red is gaining momentum.  The blue and white colour scheme is invading…

Mysterious Murder In Snowy Cream.

14/1/15

Walking back from a well-known British named supermarket (Lègòu or Tèyìgòu) in soggy conditions isn’t the best way to spend an afternoon.  The walk back to my digs usually takes 15 minutes.  Not today, today curiosity and a relaxed demeanour controlled the amble back.  The routes that can be taken differ in very little difference.  The main route is down Liaoxia Dàdào (main street/avenue), turning right at Cǎiyún xīlù (West Road) and arriving after 250metres on the left side.  However, a massive block (as the Americans would say) of apartments and very small shops is sited in the square kilometre block between my apartment and Lègòu.

 

I’ve often wandered these meandering streets, alleyways, ginnels and passages full of inquisitiveness, nosing in on every nook and cranny like an old-fashioned headmaster wanting to know each and everything.  To the locals, they don’t regard me as prying (I hope), but you see the counter-curiosity darting back from their eyes.  The rarity of a westerner breaching these off-the-beaten-track trails adds to the novelty factor of my presence.  As I marvel at the diversity of life and living, I feel calm and a guest, welcomed not by open arms but received without concern.

 

Amongst this block, there is one small road called Liaoxia Cūnlù (village road).  It runs dōng běi (north east) to xī nán (south west), parallel to Cǎiyún xīlù.  Hetian Police Station lies at the most southern point alongside a public square.  Houjiezhen Liaoxia Community Elderly Activity Centre is next door.  A very old looking gate sits inside a shabby wall.  The dilapidated area around it, suggests a renovation is long overdue.  Across the road is a pavilion in the traditional style surrounding a basketball court and public toilets.  Beyond this is a huge excavation, as much as 25% of this entire area has been rebuilt since I arrived in February of last year.  Buildings have risen from 5-storeys to 8-storeys and beyond.  Alleyways and open space has been reduced.

 

Lex Luthor: “Miss Teschmacher, when I was six years old my father said to me…”
Miss Teschmacher: ““Get out. “”
Lex Luthor: “Ha ha. Before that. He said, “Son, stocks may rise and fall, utilities and transportation systems may collapse. People are no damn good, but they will always need land and they’ll pay through the nose to get it! Remember,” my father said…”

 

Amid the micro-factories sit shop after shop, wholesale, retail, internet based or not.  The vast majority sell handbags and footwear with local, global and possibly even Mars as their customer targets.  Often here, fake merchandise mingles with the real deal.  Branded sports companies and high street high end brands are victims to this crime of selling for survival.

 

Regionally, there is an attempt to shed the “Made In China” label.  Businesses often favour using “Made in PRC.”  The endeavour supposedly discards the perception of meagre quality goods, purely by a lost in translation method.  Here on these alleyways, and inside the rooms off them, it is easy to spot glue, staples and other simplistic crimping tools forming items such as jewellery, watches, shoes, accessories, handbags, earphones and other such small articles.  What doesn’t fit the street-side micro-factory standards, is discarded ready for the elderly patrols of road hand-sweepers.

 

Last Wednesday football resumed after a winter break.  We lost against a well-organised Chinese team who loved to call offside for anything everything.  When you play on a half-pitch width with no linesmen, how can you play the offside trap?  Not to worry.  Win some, lose some.  With only one substitute available and no goalkeeper, it was a good test of fitness.  The second game we played fell on Sunday, a 6-3 victory over Italians FC, with Werner Wertz netting 4, Erick Dreyer bagging a tap-in and Alain finding the goal.

 

On Friday, Emily, Kira, Joe, Micaela and I joined the school Principal, Cherry, Regina, and Sherilyn for lunch.  The previous evening we presented a thank you cake to the English teachers and shared thank you messages all round.  It was a very touching experience.

 

During Saturday evening Irene’s Bar laid on a steak sandwiches, it was rude not to go.  Coupled with the previous night’s farewell dinner at Munchalot’s (Ray’s Indian/Mexican restaurant) it was far too much western food in a small space of time.  That and the tequila, Jaeger, etc…

 

In this last few days, fellow foreign teachers Emily, Joe, Kira and Micaela have departed.  Bryony is leaving her school digs to live with a teacher called May.  Kim is settled in kindergarten’s accommodation but now starting to look at more private digs, without a curfew.  Liam is remaining at Oxford Kingdom International School in Tingshan for next semester.

 

Did you know the UK-filmed movie The Full Monty translates as Six Naked Pigs in Mandarin?

Knocked Up (Seth Rogan) became One Night Big Belly.

As Good As It Gets (Jack Nicholson) became Mr Cat Poop.

Junior (Danny DeVito and Arnie) became Son Of Devil.

Leon became The Hitman Is Not As Cold As He Thought.

Sixth Sense (Bruce Willis) kind of had a spolier.  It became He’s A Ghost!

The Shawshank Redemption became Excitement 1995.

Fargo somehow became Mysterious Murder In Snowy Cream.

Nixon (Sir Antony Hopkins) became Big Liar.

Risky Business (Tom Cruise) became Just Send Him To University Unqualified.

G.I. Jane (Demi Moore) says a fair bit about gender inequality as it became Satan Female Soldier.

Twister became Run! Run! Cloud-zilla!

Pretty Woman somehow ended up as I Will Marry a Prostitute to Save Money.

Boogie Nights evolved into His Great Device Makes Him Famous.

Lost in Translation (Bill Murray) became Mi Shi Dong Jing (or Lost In Tokyo) essentially living up to the English title’s meaning…

 

Tonight, I head to play football again.

 

Zài jiàn.

#97: Is Winter over? Not yet…

16/1/2015

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.”
AA Milne quote from a poem Daffodowndilly.

Image:  The planned Spring Festival holiday involves around 10000Km of travelling, amonst the 4 weeks away.

Image:  Police raids shake down pavement hogging noisy speaker blasting mobile phone stores, causing scuffles and tension – and traffic jams from nearby crowds enchanted by the activities.

Image: One from sometime ago, a Thanksgiving Day evening meal for all the English teachers in primary (so not middle school).

 

Strange Loves (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Teaching)

January 23^rd 2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

On January the 24^th 2014 (it’ll be a year tomorrow, but I write today), I signed off from Aviva, departing on an air of uncertainty (either the future or the bus journey from Aviva’s Broadland Business Park site to Norwich City centre, you can decide).

It has been almost a year on, since arriving in China.  This week I have been preparing for an impromptu schooling experience.  Next week, I shall teach at Dàlǐngshān (大岭山) Lianping Primary School.  That’ll be the fifth school I’ll have taught at in a year (Admittedly I taught at one school for one day; and two kindergartens for around a month).  Dà (大) is big.  Lǐng (岭) is something akin to range or mountain range.  Shān (山) is mountain.  This satellite town is clustered with industries including some international names like Toyota, Fuji Xerox etc.  Snake soup, Roast Goose and Hakka Dog Meat feature often on the menu, so I have to be a tad careful as to what I shall eat.  On the entertainment front the Cultural Square has frequent events and themes as per an old guarantee set about to highlight local talent.  Anyway, my role at the school involves ten days of teaching.  There shall be 4 classes a day split between grades 4, 5 and 6.  The material shall focus on:

Day One:  Class rules, self-introduction, greeting words, western manners, (interrupting someone, asking permission, saying sorry, making requests, appreciate parents and teachers), help students with pronunciations, group activities.  Monkey protection to be discussed in brief.

Day Two:  Review previous day, functional English- traveling in English, asking ways, seeing a doctor, ordering foods, talking on the phone, shopping.  Group practice (students pretend to be patients and doctors, shoppers and sellers).  Elephant and Rhino protection to be discussed in brief.

Day Three:  Read some small articles or biographies, make a short speech, talk about your idols (sport starts, movie stars etc.), describe someone you love (Mum, Dad, teacher, best friend), talk about your dream, what are you going to do in the future, why, play some games, test students’ vocabularies.  Wildlife protection to be discussed in brief.

Day Four:  Famous places, scenery spots, foods, talk about your favourite place to travel, make a travel plan, how much is your budget, how can you make that money.  How to protect our environment, pollutions in China, how to be a good citizen.  Wildlife protection to be discussed in depth.

Day Five:  Describe Chinese new year in English, traditions, eating dumplings, making new year wishes, wearing new clothes, lucky red colour, lucky money, fireworks, family dinners, visiting relatives and friends.  Chinese animal zodiac protection to be discussed in brief.

In total 90 PowerPoint slides have been prepared, games and supportive material sit side by side.  I think I am prepared and have a good plan, but until that first class, I have no idea of the student ability and depth of ability for each class of 40 students.  So, by Monday evening after that first day, plans may twist, change, resolve, modify, trade, switch, alter and vary drastically from the base strategy and design currently to hand.  That’s the beauty of creation, you either repair, adapt or destroy the plan – and nothing should be simply the same as the initial idea or proposal.  Best laid plans…

This week has involved a trip to the cinema to see Kung Fu Hustle in 3D.  With Stephen Chow as the lead role and director, this film could not fail. Shaolin Soccer is still the better flick for me, but in 3D this film is pretty darn good. Eva Huáng Shèngyī doesn’t speak in this film but her words are loud and clear as do the full ensemble of this Hong Kong cinema epic deep-rooted with Chinese stars and references. In some ways the action comedy martial arts film is a spaghetti-western Neo-noir epic. The music is captivating and the choreography engrossing, bringing you into a comic reflection of 1930’s Shanghai. Liáng Xiǎolóng as The Beast may have made his name in the Bruceploitation that followed the death of Bruce Lee, but in this film he is a worthy adversary of any good guy. I have no idea why a 3D release has been shown in China and Hong Kong, around 11 years after the original release… kerching (I expect it will head west soon: http://variety.com/…/kung-fu-hustle-to-be-re-released-in-3…/ )  The best thing about this cinema trip was Kimmie, Nikki, Liam and I were the only people in the cinema.

Last weekend Murray’s FC with only 8 players beat Italians FC 5-2 [ERICK, MARCELO, ROGERO, WERNER, (all from Brazil), TIM (New Zealand), MAX (Nigeria), ALAIN (Sheffield) & I played] and in midweek we lost 7-5 [MAX, MARCELO, DANISH (India), ROSSI (China), ERLIN (China), ANDREW (South Africa), BARRY (Nigeria) and I] to a very good Brazilian side.  In the five games I managed, we won three.  A 60% winning rate isn’t bad and amongst the games, the last two made me proud to play football with such a hard-working team.  With that, due to teaching and the travel plans of Spring Festival, I’ll hang up the boots for a few weeks/maybe just over a month!

More shall follow on the travel plans…

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

 

#99:  Xīn nián kuàilè

30/1/2015

Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello,

 

Chūnyùn grows ever closer, it sits around the corner, waiting to pounce.  If you blink, you won’t miss it, it’ll go on for some time.  My only real comparison from experience was cramming on a train from the University of Aberystwyth (Wales) to Shrewsbury or following a visit to Wembley with Manchester City.  Passenger journeys here however shall far exceed the national population.  Two billion plus journeys.  I’ll start counting and it’ll take more than two years to get to two billion…  Students, migrant workers, locals, commuters, everybody, all moving at once.   If we all jump at once, will it cause the ground to shake?

 

Businesses here will halt, many have already drawn their shutters.  Families, friends, distant friends, people without friends, prisoners and so on… for people here, this is the most important period of the year.  Community and togetherness are brushed aside, now is the time for family.

 

Chūnyùn, is essentially a race for life, if you don’t get the train, coach, or air tickets, you’ll be stranded.  As migrations go, it is more impressive than witnessing an undersea, unexplained mass sponge migration.  Kick off this year is set for around the 4th of February but signs are already showing of the impending stampede.  Houjie has no train station.  It does have a ticket booth and having passed it earlier on this week twice, the queues stretched 500 strong.  It was as if One Direction had arrived in town, but the screaming teenagers had been replaced by people as old as alleged victims of Cliff Richard.

 

Soon enough, tickets available on sale 61 days prior to national residents (or 21 days prior to journey if you’re a foreigner), will be in hand.  That is, assuming you have your Identity Card or passport to hand, the relevant train number and an idea of whether you want first class sitting/sleeping (hard or soft bed), second class sitting/sleeping (hard or soft bed), or to stand for journeys longer in distance than anything I care to imagine.

The average person may take more than their bodyweight by way of bags, suitcases, foods, gifts, snacks for the journey, etc.  At each station, or coach terminus, all must be scanned under an X-Ray machine, sniffed by the odd sniffer dog and sometimes inspected by hand.

 

The Ministry of Railways, the coach companies and to a lesser extent air travel are The Fat Controller.  Thomas and friends are everybody else within the realms of Zhōnghuá Rénmín Gònghéguó (People’s Republic of China).  Railway travel is cheap, far cheaper than air travel.  Coaches can also be very cheap.  Easing travel and queue times seems to be a nightmare for all involved.  So the extra few days of being able to buy tickets (it used to be 21 days in advance for all passengers) filled every train to major and lesser cities.  Teachers at my school panicked and cancelled classes in order to book journeys sooner.  Some journeys depart at early or late uncomfortable hours.  The main thing is, they’re going home.  To climb a mountain’s summit you must put in the effort that the scramble requires.

 

I haven’t experienced the joys of Nián Jié (Chinese New Year/農曆新年) or the cāidēngmí (lantern festival/猜燈謎) 15 days later yet [March the 5th this year].  The entire Spring Festival promises to be very interesting.

 

I’ve read reports that say around 80% of people from Běijīng (meaning Northern Capital), Shànghǎi (the name means above the sea), Guǎngzhōu, and Shēnzhèn (the name means deep drains: 深圳) will migrate with one aim:  to get home for Chúxī (除夕).  The equivalent to Chinese New Year’s Eve, which involves families congregating for a huge reunion dinner, named as Nian Ye Fan/Evening of the Passing.

 

I still can’t get how populated or how big China is.  This link shows a list of cities.

 

So with this intended last post of the lunar year…  Xīn nián kuàilè (Happy New Year)

 

Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Goodbye.

“Why worry? Each of us is carrying an unlicensed nuclear accelerator on his back.”

4/11/2014

Nín hǎo (if you’re old) / Nǐ hǎo (to everyone else),

 

“Why worry? Each of us is carrying an unlicensed nuclear accelerator on his back.”  There’s something strange in this neighbourhood.

 

This morning after receiving a confusing message from Cherry about a timetable change for primary school, I was accosted by several female members of class 701.  It turns out, I was late.  Late for what?  Late for a changed class from 14:50-15:30hrs that somehow was changed to 09:00 to 09:40hrs.  Honestly, a slight morsel of communication in middle school would fashion a substantial and constructive difference.  Instead a half-sleepy teacher rushed up the stairs, laptop in hand, and eventually woke up after 5 minutes of a frantic and condensed class.  40 minutes of substance into 30 minutes seldom slinks into status.  Afterwards, I double checked the new two day temporary timetable.  It shall heavily impact classes tomorrow, essentially pulling them forward by an hour or so.  The reason for the mass upheaval of studies is to allow students to have their health check.  One conducted at various stations around the school grounds by a team of scary looking health professionals.  Nurses wear pink, presumably, they washed colours with their whites.  Doctors wear white, and get to smoke like troopers on the school grounds, barking orders to conduct strange looking muscle movement assessments.

 

In the two weeks since I last wrote those words that I last wrote, Eric Morecambe’s had his legs stolen, the Dachau gate has gone walkabouts, a space mission went up and down rather fast, and more locally I deflected a moped bike with four people on board.  It has been a strange period indeed.  Pull up a chair, gather round the campfire and let me tell you more…

 

The most upsetting thing, in a week or so of strangeness, for our clan of foreign teachers has been the denial of entry to P.R. China to our colleague Becky.  She went to Hong Kong knowing that an application for a visa would result in a 7, 14 or 30 day extension at best.  Sadly, the at worst scenario occurred.  Here ended her teaching experience in Houjie, only one week after her and Bryony’s housewarming party!  Last Friday, Bryony asked Nikki and I to call by the kindergarten office.  A plan of action soon fell into place, in amongst a dozen or so teachers and senior staff drawing up their own ideas but not showing or revealing them until much later on.  After a commotion it was determined someone who have to take Becky’s luggage and final salary to Hong Kong.  Only Nikki and I had the relevant multi-entry visa to allow for this.  So, after signing for her wages, as my responsibility (no pressure!) and agreeing to drop Becky’s luggage, we went to Bryony’s (and formerly Becky’s) apartment, packed her things, ate and then went to Irene’s Bar.  All of this fell on Hallowe’en and at the end of a very hectic and tiring week.  Being physically tired, mentally fatigued and emotionally drained during a sub-tropical autumn spell is not good.  Yesterday, we all gathered in a coffee shop and group video-called Becky via Skype to say goodbye and wish her a pleasant journey back (she flew this morning).

I had previously said goodbye to Becky in Hong Kong, having taken a stroll for pizza and a coffee with her, passing the protest site in Wan Chai and taking the Star Ferry just to get some sea air.

Back to Sunday, and with this day, most of us helped carry Bryony (now detached from her contract at the apartment) and Bryony’s belongings to school accommodation (where she’ll share an apartment with Joe).  On the way over, I crossed between cars, waited at the halfway markings, looked left, a motorbike-scooter was 100 metres away tucked behind a car, looked right, could cross after a car passed me in 5…4… 3… 2… 1.  I stepped forward.  Whallop.  The bike had hit me.  The wheel was on my foot and four people fell off it.  Hard bloody luck.  The handlebars caught my waist area.  Shocked as I was, I looked at the two adults and two teenagers gathering themselves at the floor, scowled and walked away.  Thankfully, I was not injured and not too annoyed.

 

On Tuesday the task of setting up the outdoor Hallowe’en area started.  Originally we had been told, “make it ready for Thursday morning.”  That changed to Wednesday morning late on Tuesday.  What with it being my 32^nd birthday, I thought after the Mandarin class we’d go for food.  Prior to Mandarin class was a manic rush to mark out the Hallowe’en area and convey to Micaela, Kira, Joe and Emily of my plans for said grotto.  Whilst the day started brightly, an autumnal glow of sunshine reflecting off everything in sight soon faded away to greyer skies.  Classes passed with pleasure, two classes, 703 (fast becoming my favourites, something I don’t usually agree with) and 701 performing the traditional birthday song very well.  The school flag raising ceremony conductor even led class 703.  During the day I forgot my aches from the previous night’s football (a massive 10-1 defeat to Murray’s F.C. Smoggies to a Brazilian team featuring the brilliantly skilled Mateus; our other team Murray’s F.C. Owls beat Italiano F.C. to keep our collective unbeaten record against their teams).

 

That evening our foreign teacher clan went to Al Pozo’s Italian Kitchen on Houjie Dadao.  Here I had gorgonzola gnocchi and a Bombay pizza, followed by a complimentary dessert and several house spirits.  I enjoyed it, despite feeling like I wanted to sleep all day.

 

Wednesday arrived, we worked our socks off, and cobbled together the Hallowe’en area.  Particular credit to Emily for her artwork and Kira for assisting throughout.  Micaela and Joe worked hard too.  During that day, my classes had all been cancelled to allow me to assist with our four games (Pin the bone on the skeleton; witches’ hat hoopla; a ten pin bowling alley; and a blindfold game where the aim is to pop a balloon within the shape of a pumpkin.  Over the three days, the students enjoyed the games, gave great cheer and the feedback from the teachers matched this.  It may have been fastened together and bodged a fair bit, but it worked well.  All the foreign teachers felt shattered from manning the posts for the three days.  My respite coming in the form of 7 classes I had to attend on the Thursday and Friday.  Even so, I sweated a fair bit, was bitten a lot by mosquitoes and students alike, and felt like a zombie afterwards,

 

Irene’s Bar on Friday was fantastic, even if I arrived late and departed soon after.  Marcus and Irene had decorated the place to resemble a haunted grunge bar.  Black-curtain-clad walls lined with spooks and spectres topped off with freaky looking effigies and fantastic make-up special effects for the staff (it looked professional and wouldn’t have been ill-fitting on the cast of The Walking Dead).  Local school students, children, adults alike from the neighbouring area lifted the curtain entrance flap up and gazed in wonder at a brilliant display.  Fair play to those who helped create this horrifying wonder.

 

The week before Friday morning I’ve been teaching the P.E. Teachers words useful for their coaching of basketball.  Slam dunk is one phrase they really wanted to learn.  I’m not sure the basketball teams here have a player who can jump half the height of a basketball net.  Still, at least when they do, they’ll know the correct locution for the instance.  Mr Hu and the other P.E. teachers, joined most of us foreign teachers for food at Liaoxia Market and drinks at Snow Bar.  In an evening, where he chatted up Becky, little did I know he’d call me the night after Becky was denied her visa, and cry about how much he wanted to get to know her and how much the opportunity for love had been missed by Mr Hu.  This sounds crazy enough, but for the detail that his English is not so good and my Chinese far poorer.  Thankfully, Shirley, was on the other end of the phone too, so acted as fānyì (translator).

 

Last night’s football game against Fred F.C. (another all-Brazilian outfit) ended in a 7-5 defeat.  Their Messi-aged-40-lookalike proving to be a handful bagging most of their goals from long range.  Afterwards, I, like the team felt, deflated – but on reflection that we competed against a team heavily graded as being superior to our own.  We were without our star keeper Eduardo (a Brazilian) and Ken stepped into goal, and gave his all, but alas it was not to be.  Afterwards, I agreed to teach English to another Brazilian (Rogerio, who is Marcelo’s uncle) from next week.  I’m sure with this many Brazilian expats in Dongguan, the area is technically and enclave of Brazil – and with many contracts locally going to the production of the Rio 2018 Olympics, they should just raise their flag and call it a good old fashioned invasion, and not a peaceful one, I demand samba music and street parties galore.  Unless of course a street party contravenes regional laws and could be mistaken for a protest.  Did you know in China it is only legal to protest against Japan?  I didn’t, I’m not even sure this is true, it sounds like an urban myth.

 

Temperature-wise and weather wise, Autumn has arrived, the high today is 25°C.  Tomorrow’s high is 28°C.  The lows are pretty much 19°C all week.  The air feels cooler and humidty has dropped off.  The air is a little fresher but I’ve yet to feel anything tantamount to cold.

 

Here Dongguan send a weekly email with a brief weather forecast.  Last week it read as follows:

 

Under the dominance of anticyclone aloft, the weather will be generally fine over the region in the next couple of days. 

From the Dongguan Meteorological Bureau:

Friday, October 31: Mainly fine, 23-30°C (73-86°F)

Saturday, November 1: Mainly fine, 24-31°C (75-88°F)

Sunday, November 2: Mainly cloudy, chance of showers, 22-30°C (72-86°F)

Monday, November 3: Mainly cloudy, chance of showers, 21-27°C (70-81°F)

 

Well, there won’t be any snowmen around these parts for a long while.

Zài jiàn.

Remembrance Day 2014: The Lost of a not so great war.

10/11/14

Their voices can no longer be heard, their words no longer spoken.  The souls have carried away lives that never were lived.  They had an hour, a minute and a day, so little time when a month or year was needed to live long and happy.  They stood for pride, for their country, their friends, their family.  Some were conflicted, some battled hard, others deserted, many of whom suffered before, during and after.  You cannot experience anything someone else can feel, not precisely.  Fight or flight.  The battles, conflicts and wars of yesteryear gave rise to needless deaths.  Some heroic and many tragic.  Some deserters survived and changed names, some faced gaol, a bullet or other such tragic ends.  The Shot at Dawn Memorial is a British Monument (National Memorial Arboretum, Alrewas, Staffordshire).  306 soldiers faced this in The Great War.  Of them 25 Canadians, 22 Irishmen, and 5 New Zealanders.  3000 had been ordered to be executed.  The unfair trials of cowardice and the stigma that surrounds this remains a stain on history, a blot that should not be swept away or looked upon in shame.  Embrace it, and remember, attitudes and times were different in darker and more desperate days.  The firing squads also suffered the emotional pain of executing their own when fighting the enemy. Those shot for such offences deserve pardon, in a way that does not insult those who died honourably on the battlefield.  Nobody truly wants a war or battle.  You fight for freedom or belief when words cannot fix something.  But to be shot for fear, when some lied to enter the battlefield is wrong.

Whatever your belief, I think it is too late for the lost voices.

Remembrance Day 2014: “Though dead he still liveth (雖死猶生)”

1 day ago

For Tuesday night, following Mandarin class, I finally sat down and watched Dawn of the Planet of The Apes.  It was very good indeed and full of geeky links to all the predecessor films and T.V. series.  In some ways it was a temporary escape from everything around me.  Beyond that a tough game of football was had on Wednesday with victory over a local Chinese outfit, containing a lad who is prolific at scoring goals and has a mean right foot – it broke Marcelo’s fingers with a shot recently.  We triumphed 15-10, with a comfortable ten goal lead until the final 15 minutes, when we can safely say, no substitutes or energy assisted the opposition.  Thursday and Friday petered by, a restlessness ahead of the following week’s midterm exams crept in, lowering the usually happy mood of the classrooms.  On Thursday evening I met Jonlin and Sofia from the Summer kindergarten I worked at.  We talked schools, Becky’s sad departure, the variety of foods locally and other such small talk that assists one with relaxing.  All this was over a delicious, yet spicy hotpot.  For Friday night and Saturday, I designed my powerpoint presentations and class lesson plans.  A cycle ride, many spicy dishes for lunch with teacher Shirley and another teacher I don’t know their name filled up a very lazy day.

Sunday resembled Saturday, save for going to have pizza with Liam and enquire about how to repair and clean my laptop.  I met another teacher from Liam’s school, Cherry (Cherry Number 2 – is her username on wechat, honestly there are so many girls her called Cherry, Coco, Yoyo, etc), she is tiny.  This is very common here, most people are small but every now and then, someone more petite than tiny is introduced to me.  It does make me self-conscious about my stature, even if still confident!  China really can resemble the Land Of The Giants at times.  Bizarrely, there are some really tall Chinese folk, just few and far between.

So, today, three successful classes have passed, one on key vocabulary moulded around the African Hunting Dog and one class based on Hotel vocabulary.  A student said today he has learned so much about UK culture, Manchester and football from me today.  For this, I am content.  But, I don’t want to rest on any Laurel and Hardy’s.  It is easy to spot a badger in a zebra convention held at a zebra crossing.  You must strive to be better, always.  Always, better.

Tonight, I play football for Murray’s FC Smoggies, which is something I have enjoyed in freedom because of others in the years that have passed by.

Today is sandwiched between Remembrance Sunday and Remembrance Day, something I value ahead of my own birthday and Christmas or any other holiday.  In China few people understand the significance ofthe 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.  Tomorrow, I have no class at this time, so I shall find a quiet area and pay my respects.

I found some interesting material on the forgotten army of World War One.  BBC’s Dan Snow didn’t have to deliver it to me either.  The Chinese Labour Corp are little known.  Britain and France both recruited soldiers from China.  140,000 Chinese soldiers experienced the language barrier without the aid of google, Bing or other such search engines, without MP3s, or Rosetta Stone (aside from a profit making language course, look this name up).  China declared war upon Germany on the 14^th August 1917.  Prior to this the soldiers serving were not allowed to fight, purely to assist with logistics and all round labour.  Most of the Chinese who served travelled the long way round, via the Pacific and Canada… then the Atlantic.  The three month journey favouring safer passages than the horn of Africa and eastern Europe.  They even repatriated later on via the same routes.  Many hundreds of students accompanied the 40,000 troops under French control and 100,000 under British control.  Unlike modern days, back then the Chinese could only be identified by a personal reference number, not a name.  It was estimated around 5000 or so remained in France.  Following the conclusion of the war, the British government sent a bronze War Medal to every member of the CLC.  The medal was identical save for material to the silver British War Medal.  Very few soldiers saw combat yet 2000 souls perished during and after the battles.  Spanish Flu claimed the majority of these men in an alien land.  There are several distinct tombs and burial sites in Belgium, Northern France and the U.K, each engraved with Chinese characters guarded by two stone lions, gifts from China.

“Faithful unto death (至死忠誠)”

“A good reputation endures forever (流芳百世)”

“A noble duty bravely done (勇往直前)”

“Though dead he still liveth (雖死猶生)”

Who’d be a teacher?

12/11/14

Happy World Pneumonia Day!  [and in case I don’t get to write tomorrow, enjoy World Kindness Day]

 

Today, is considered cold by the locals.  It is 20°C now with highs of 25-26°C and lows of 16-17°C expected most of the week.  It is damp, drizzly fine rain (the kind that soaks you right through).  Whilst others don jumpers, sweaters and jackets, I bask in the cooler air.  It is always shorts weather.  Autumn is considerably cooler and there is little to no humidity.

 

Here I stand, against the flow of traffic, free from the usual 9-5 rigmarole of regimented retirement aiming British cultural work life.  On departing Blighty, a mixture of excitement, sense of a new opportunity and a nervousness or apprehension about not knowing what awaits filled my already cluttered mind.  Here I sit, stand and wander, 275 days after leaving my native lands.  How do I feel?  49 days of this year remain, I need to make my mind up.

 

With respect to the occupation, a profession revered highly here, I still feel more highs than lows.  The ups outweigh the downs.  Each class, each student, individual in their responses, often swayed by the passions or lack of passions by others.  I totally understand attention needs amusement.  There is more pressure than a Bayern Munich goalkeeper having to save a last minute penalty from Sergio Leonel “Kun” Agüero Del Castillo to deny Manchester City a victory (I can pray for such moments).  Each day is different.  Some days I feel I have achieved much, others not so much.  One class can make you feel like an asset, another like a snag in the school hierarchy.  You can be the most positive, passionate, prepared and determined teacher with all the transferable skills in your arsenal but one or two class hijackers can change anything.

 

Class 704 are in this respect, kitted up with every possible form of I.E.D. or anti-tank bazooka.  They don’t intentionally want to bring you down.  They aren’t feral naturally.  They just happen to have a pocket of eight to ten boys hell-bent on swabbing the decks with you.  It isn’t that they aren’t bright, their grades are above average.  They are too active, too determined to be heard above the rest.  As such the forbearing girls and the more imperturbable boys get no voice.  So, as the bad boys demanded games, more games and only games in my last class yesterday, I held back.  No games.  Just words, just sentences, just repetition, just repetition, just recurrence, replication, reiteration, reappearance, reverberation, repeat, repeat, repeat…  Did it work?  Not really.  I even had to rig the scoring system to quieten the boys.  I removed the prospect of lollipops as a reward.  The golden goose was there and then the golden goose was not.  I hope that the next class is far better.  It is vocabulary tied to many games and activities.  I’d love to show them how well class 703 perform alongside them.  703 are saintly, angelic, beatific, and virtuous.

 

This morning I’ve taught class 604 and 605.  605 are very noisy but easy to control due to their heavily competitive nature.  They are also quite witty.  There is however one boy who likes to dictate the pace of the class and answer every question.  He is far brighter than his age – and even two of his peers who have a Western parent in their family.  The local word is hùnxuè’ér, which means half-blood or half-breed.  It is a term I’d expect to find in Harry Potter, propaganda from hard-line fractions of Israel and all-in-all not something I’d expect to be heard in the 21^st century.  In a very traditional society, mixed races are rare to be seen, unless you hang out with foreigners – and then they are still few and far between.

 

That said, am I model pupil at Mandarin classes?  No.  I turn up Tuesday at 6pm, tired.  Barely able to think and after having class 704 a matter of a few hours before, with headache and drowsiness to hand.  Even my throat was sore.  And then Wednesday night, I play football so don’t even turn up.  I do have a plan of action to learn Chinese, I’m working on it.  I need to be confident, fast flowing and speak street talk, not textbook.  Until then textbook, multimedia and one to one conversational exchange is the way forward.

 

Below is some text I created from our simple lessons.  I am trying to recite this without error.

 

Nǐhǎo, nǐhǎo ma?  Wǒ hěn hǎo.  Wǒ jiào John.  Wǒ xìng Acton-Brown.  Nǐ jiào shénme míngzi?  Nǐde diànhuà hàomǎ shì duōshǎo?  Wǒ sānshíèr suì.  Nǐ duōshǎo suì?  Nǐ huìbúhuì shuō zhōngwén?  Wǒ xǐhuān tīzúqiú.  Wǒ shì Màn Chéng mí.  Wǒ xǐhuān tīngyīnyuè.  Wǒ xǐhuān kànshū.  Wǒ xǐhuān kàndiànyǐn.  Wǒ xǐhuān lǚxíng.  Wǒ zuìxǐhuān de huódòng shì tīzúqiú.  Nǐ yǒu shénme àihào？Nǐzuìxǐhuān zuò shénme? 

Fēicháng xièxie

 

Hello, how are you?  I’m fine.  My name is John.  My surname is Acton-Brown.  What’s your name?  What’s your phone number?  I am 32 year’s old.  How old are you?  Do you speak Chinese?  I like playing football.  I’m a fan of Manchester City.  I like listening to music.  I like reading.  I like watching movies.  I like travelling.  My favourite activity is playing football.  What are your hobbies?  What do you like doing best? 

Thank you very much.

 

For further, and frank, reading on teaching abroad, I recommend Teaching With Chopsticks (TEFL from the frontline) by Jonathan Last (ISBN: 9781780690353).

Zài jiàn.

#87: I am more homesick than I care to admit

17/11/14

The smell of drains doesn’t just waft through the air today.  It pierces the air, penetrating all around like a cloak of dark rancid twice-rotten flowers.  If flowers make for pleasantry then this stab of air marks tragedy.  The tide of a thousand homes, an old and battered sewerage system coupled with no doubt the carcass of a decaying rodent or two lay impugn.  Today, air-fresheners, odour eaters, friendly flowery fragrances or a breeze of fresh air are poor weapons against this whiff.  Any feeling of unease is exasperated.  Stomachs clench, each breath of air tense, the head dizzy with intoxication of vile odours.

And he can see no reasons, ‘Cause there are no reasons.  What reason do you need to be shown?  Tell me why?  I don’t like Mondays.  This is probably the first Monday where the morning has undergone as an arduous task for me.  Perhaps I am perturbed by the news I am centred upon in a rumour (one which is laughable, but nevertheless flattering that someone can spend time creating such nonsensical fiction and then furthermore spreading the slander thereafter); perhaps it is a slight groin strain and ankle injury from Saturday’s 6-2 win over FC Italiano by Murray’s F.C. (which I like to think of as my best game for Murray’s to date – having lasted the full two hours playing time; and ran around for the ten minute break too); perhaps it is my indecision over, “what next?”  (Should I renew the contract?  Look elsewhere in China?  Try to travel?  Look at another country?  Settle down here?  Return to Blighty? Etc); perhaps I am more homesick than I care to admit (missing my parents, siblings and not so close friends); perhaps I did not sleep so well?  (The air conditioner makes it too cold, the room feels stuffy with no air movement and it is too loud to open the window – plus the mosquito numbers are high, my legs having been fed on in a dozen very itchy locations); perhaps I am mentally fatigued?  (I need a break, but then so does the vast majority of China!)

So three classes today have gone by, 603 was okay – mostly amazed how I can wear just a T-shirt in 20°C heat.  The high today is 25°C, the low 13°C at night.  The lack of humidity certainly makes for a much more British-like climate.  If I could wear shorts to school, I would.  That would seriously bemuse my students in their woollen jumpers, gloves, hats and padded jackets.  I explained Manchester’s high temperature was 11°C today – cries of “Game over” rang around the classroom.  “Game over” is kind of a gentrified euphemism for death here.  I explained even at that temperature I’d happily wear shorts.  “You are crazy!”  Straight to the point.

Class 803 did their utmost to maximise the trading of TF Boys postcards and play Chinese Chequers in their notepads.  Honestly, TF Boys are nothing short of shit.  Yet, these little pubescent types attract each and every girl – and most boys with their whiny singing, prancing around like unfinished dancers and pouting.  Yes, I am clearly not a teenager and have no desire for pop music or the worst kind of manufactured type, current Chinese climatic communist-clicked kiddy creations.  They’re too nice and lack character.  Anyway 803 are quiet at the best of times, and today they reverted to type, lacked focus and generally left me standing at the front trying and failing miserably.  I told them at the end I was not happy and I may have to go away and sulk.  They understood.  Resumption of trading TF Boys cards followed immediately.

Class 804 have Ann sat at the front.  She is a childhood genius and will happily interrupt every aspect of the class to ask her own, sometimes unrelated, questions.  If the scenario falls outside of the concrete box painted by textbooks then it can be a little time-consuming but she does ask some good questions.  If anarchy happens this way, I’d point the finger firmly her way.  Her partner in crime is a giddy, but clearly learning off her lad.  His name is Taobao, after a major Chinese online retailer.  He is now equally committed to questioning everything.  I like their passion.  Their team comprises of a block of ten students, who never do homework in my class, listen attentively and always want to answer first – and win everything, even if chance games make the balance of classroom power harder to control.  One game I use frequently involves choosing a new vocabulary word from a MS Powerpoint (other presentation software is available) screen and simply making a sentence.  On completion of a correct sentence the word disappears revealing 2 points, 1 point, 2 points for another team or their team loses 2 points.  I like this game because it breaks down boundaries, the smarter students can lose points.  Other teams can conspire and use their own tactical knowledge to win.  Camaraderie and collaboration fall hand in hand.  Today, team 2 were racing away with points prior to the review game, and then team 3 gave help to team 1 – a last minute victory.

As I was waffling on with the above, a momentary pause was had, as I sprinted alongside 500 or so Middle School students to the playground/running track.  The wailing fire alarm test reminiscent of World War II air raid sirens shattered any notion of hearing for a few minutes.  Alongside this every student held their faces like I did a big smelly fart.  I guess to prevent fumes or gases etc entering their craw and gullet.

Tonight, I resume playing football for Murray’s F.C.  After last night’s near relaxation of watching Interstellar at Xingx International Cinema for 25RMB, tonight will be more physically enduring.  The cinema experience last night involved the usual amount of nattering on phones, a crèche formed at the front of the screen with a half dozen toddlers going for all intense purposes, ape-shit bonkers.  I’d recommend the film greatly, but don’t watch it in a noisy Chinese Cinema!  The cinema here reminds me of Spike Milligan’s poem:

On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
and the monkeys all say BOO!
There’s a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can’t catch ’em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!

17.11.1999:

Today marks a date I remember well, a date I lost my best friend in life.  It has been 15 years and I remember it like yesterday, I wanted the world to swell up at the time and swallow me whole.  It was as far from pleasure in losing him, my closest companion, my dearest acquaintance and comrade on many walks across many fields of time.  I knew it would come.  I’d felt loss before for my Nana – it was long and painful for her, and painful for our family to experience but I was still young and still trying to understand cancers and disease and the effect on those around you.  Throughout that tough time, my one hope and saviour and support was him, the ever reliable.  Without him, I can’t have imagined an alternative.  He was the rock I could talk to, could cuddle and feel life, coursing through my veins.  He was pure, harmless and never ever judged me, or if he did he kept it to himself.  My Dad called me that day and told me he was going to the RSPCA in Eccles and would return without him.  Inside I was hollow, empty, devoid but glad for him, glad he would not have to suffer any longer.  Right now, I want to cry, such is my love and yearn for the moments we had together.  To quote Dr Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”  I like to think out there the spirit of Pup is alive and kicking.  My lost family and I can walk with Pup one day.  I miss you my friend.

Feeling bugged

18/11/2014

“Keep warm or you’ll catch the flu” came the message at school today.  Almost denying that typical influenza is transmitted through the air by coughs or sneezes, creating an aerosol containing the virus.  Nasal secretions and contact with contaminated surfaces also cause flu.  It is worth noting in this school for over 1950 students, each bathroom does not come with soap.  Cold water is the only tool for washing your hands.  This is something reflected in the vast majority of public water closet facilities and something western establishments go for the opposite approach: soap.  As clean as hand gel is, and as clean as you want to be, germs always find a way.  Yesterday, I started off with a mildly sore throat, ended with a bothersome cough.  By the time kip arrived, I had a temperature, some mild fever and a groggy, gooey, fluid nose.  Couple with my narrow left nostril, this was painful and almost acidic in its burning nature.  Following last night’s football (Murray’s FC Smoggies lost 7-1 to FC Italiano – a side we have dominated for months, I saved a penalty having played in goal for the second half, where we found ourself 6-0 down – without an subs and a totally mismatched starting 5); I also had a puncture on my bike and ahd to mend it, cycle back bit by bit, pumping up the tyre every 5km or so), I had the usual aches and pains – this time augmented by this viral cold or flu.  This morning’s headache has assuaged slightly, without aid of Paracetamol, for I have ran out of said aid.  Ibuprofin is numerous but not advisable on the basis Dengue Fever etc symptoms can worsen and cause liver damage by using such a remedy.

So, today, I have weakness and fatigue, the general discomforts, a trickling nose and chills.  I’m confident that whatever it is shall pass within a day or so.  I just need rest and good food.

After a nap this morning in my office, rudely awoken by a foreign teacher meeting and two litres of orange squash, I am looking forward to a lunchtime nap.  Every sinew of me demands energy, energy I haven’t got.  The meeting was a chore, a laboured and arduous task.  Emily, Joe, Cherry, Micaela and I contrived to talk about this week’s school trips.  Cherry made known to me that a Communication Outing has been pencilled in for a trip to another school, here I must deliver a lecture on cultural differences.  Shall I hold back or be fair?  I never hold back.  Parents will also be attending various classes next week as part of the Open Days.  I’m hoping I have some good classes then!  The best news was the news that Christmas Day, all us foreigners can have the day off.  China is rapidly accepting western holidays, be they for promotion purposes in the many shops or simply an excuse to dine, like next week’s Thanksgiving Dinner for the teachers.  We also have to arrange a song and/or dance for the Art Festival in mid-late December…

And now, class 703 fast approaches, at 1120 my four in a row class schedule starts (separated by lunch).  If I make it through today’s four grade 7 classes, I can beat the world.

I think this was a Tommy Cooper gag:  A Post Office employee in Bournemouth is retiring after 41 years without using any of her sick days.  Friends describe her as “dedicated”.  Co-workers remember her as, “That daft bat who kept giving me the flu.”

“My dear doctor, I’m surprised to hear you say that I am coughing very badly, because I have been practising all night.” John Philpot Curran

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. “

27/11/14

Yes, the title is a Sir Winston Churchill quote.

Day eight of working with man-flu, which I acknowledge is totally incomparable to influenza or the Ebola Virus, or other such serious strains of disease.  I can only convey my thoughts on my experiences.  The students on Tuesday last week were angelic, even my nightmare class 704 performed brilliantly and calmly.  I don’t know whether they subdued due to my croaky voice or because I selected half of the naughty boys earlier on.  Their form teacher, Sharon, was equally shocked by their change in moods.  I doubt feigning illness in the next class shall be of any benefit.

 

Class 703 began last Tuesday’s teaching with a spirit and sympathy tantamount to being the idyllic class that every teacher strives to get on day one.  After class several students gave me sweets (candy).  One student gave me a flower and another a little post it note, which she would not explain.  I asked the passing teacher Cherry Lee what was on the note.  The post it note translates as, “I want to be more intelligent than a tortoise – ha ha.”  If some moments in life are just meant to perk you up, these are those said moments.

 

Middle school teacher Sharon later asked me to import Nutrilon baby milk powder from the UK or the Netherlands for her teacher friend Cherry Lee.  This is a common request by teachers – and highlights how hard it is to find good quality milk powder or milk in this country.  I could not find any regulations until I returned through customs, later in the week, at one of Hong Kong and China’s border-crossing.  It turns out taking anything above 1.5KG is a criminal offence.  So, I won’t be taking big orders in future.

 

Last Tuesday after lunch, I had the option to cancel one class but decided to plough on through.  Class 702 started the ball rolling and it was fun, if not very hard to speak.  Class 701 followed, we played some games.  One student said aloud, “This game is boring.”  At the end of the round of games, he was begging to play the game again.  The trick with games is to make them interesting, simple and to teach language and words via their means.  You can’t play the same games too often and you cannot play too many games.  Students learn, they adapt, they are very much like the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park, don’t trust them for too long.  They will capture you and eat you alive.

 

After class 704 ended that day, I felt mentally exultant that I had completed the day’s teaching.  I returned back to my lair after school, kicked back and watched Homeland’s latest two episodes.  I decided going to learn Mandarin at the class was too strenuous a task.  I was half way through my second episode of Homeland when absolute nausea kicked in.  I slept from around 6.30pm until 8am the following day, waking only to eat bacon, egg and tomato on bread around 9pm.

 

Last Wednesday I somehow cruised through the day, and eventually cruised home, going to bed early once again and finding the next day arriving sooner than imagined.

On Thursday, I awoke feeling brighter, the prospect of a day without classes and a school trip to the theme park in Changlu was a great motivator.  In the morning grades 4, 6, 7 through to 9 and numerous teachers assembled on the playground-cum-running track-cum-parade square-cum-queuing zone.  Here we were divided into coaches.  I was placed into class 602 alongside several grade 7 students too numerous to have their own coach.  The coach set off promptly as arrived at 8.30am – we were told to arrive for 7.30am.  Our journey stopped after 15 minutes.  It transpired that students were sitting three abreast on seats for two over several rows.  As the convoy of 20 or so coaches whistled by, one stopped to collect our excess five students.  The maths teacher from my office, Mr Yang Wenbo, was fuming.  He isn’t the happiest man at the best of times, but his anger resulted in fierce stares and much more angry tones than usual.  I would never like to upset him.  Later that day, he smiled for a photo.  I almost keeled over in shock at his smile.

Our journey circumnavigated the River Pearl crossing the massive Hǔmén Dàqiáo (Tiger Gate Huge Bridge) with magnificent views of the river below and the Weiyuan Fort (now housing the totally biased Opium War Museum).  Onwards the road hugged a railway line for some time.  The line rising like a long straight ridge high above our already raised roadway.  Super high-speed intercity trains bulleted past with passengers unable to focus on the nearby landscapes along their fast journeys.  The coach journey featured a comedy war film involving many Chinese children humiliating their Japanese oppressors.  It was like Home Alone meets Saving Private Ryan.

 

On arrival at the Changlu Farm theme park, it appeared to me, to be the busiest theme park I have ever seen.  At least two hundred empty coaches sat outside waiting to occupied once again.  Huge groups of school students from kindergarten to college ages.  It looked too busy to resemble being comfortable.  After being given a swipe card with 100RMB credit to go and “play” (the Chinese-English word for having fun and doing what you want), I legged it with a group of students to play a kind of game involving a cannon firing solid globes at moving targets.  Sadly, the sight on the weaponry had been worn down to the point of inoperable décor by many a visitor.  I still hit the target a few times more than my students.  Boom.

Seconds passed before I fired a few arrows at the archery and then wandered to the dodgems/bumper cars… and hereon I moved from group of students to group of students.  All keen to have me as company for a few minutes and take photos of their fun day out.

 

I met some of my cool grade 8 students queuing for the biggest rollercoaster.  I queued up alongside them for the better part of 30 minutes only to be told the height limit is 180cm.  Not to worry, I wandered off, found teachers Cherry, Regina, Mr Wan Hei Fae, Emily and a few other teachers.  Here I beat the two males teachers –and four other Chinese students – at go-karting over five laps.  Then lunch arrived, we ate in a banquet hall.  The dòufu (tofu) was very good but the rest of the food was mass-produced and barely palatable.  Even my fellow native teachers winced at the lack of flavour.

 

Teachers Emma and Doris commandeered me to go on a ghost ship, which was okay, but by U.K. standards not scary in the least.  For the entire 200 metre walk around the dark, the biggest grade 8 student clung to the back of my jacket for dear life.  He grade 6 peers were too scared to notice.  The Chinese have a learned fear of everything occult and dislike tombstones very much so.  Death is not something that features in television shows or movies, unless they are fighting the Japanese.

 

A ride on a water-based tricycle around a lake, a wander around the park and a quick stroll around the zoo followed.  The sorry looking zoo, looked very well designed but lacked space for enclosures and had some odd combinations.  Wolf and Sheep read the sign, very much in the same way of the Chinese cartoon The Pleasant Goat and Big Bad Wolf.  Sure enough two big sheep stood upright with Wolves snoozing overhead, prey and predators in total disharmony and close proximity.  Beyond this enclosure the Tigers (possibly Tigons and Liger hybrids) mixed in with their natural wild counterparts the Lions… and… some wild boar.  The most chilled out of the inhabitants in an enclosure only described as a theatre stage with three tiers and a moat, complete with audience seating.  On the whole the zoo, as expected, was grim.  Only the Red Pandas looked reasonably happy.  For the sake of the elephant enclosed in a tony paddock resembling a tennis court, at least it had the luxury of passing away a few months back.

 

The fun of the theme park, like many in the U.K., ends with an exit via the gift shop option.  The other options, never visible, nor known to any living soul.  Unlike U.K. theme parks, this park had a massive emphasis on buying food from each province of China, as well as a smattering of the usual tacky gifts and novelty items.  Here was an arcade, where any remaining credit on your entry swipe card became converted to tokens.  I had a fair stack of tokens, so I gave them to my students to enjoy the claw-grabbing machines and other such opportunities to win prizes.  Soon after, on finding our coach in the gargantuan coach and car park, we boarded and returned – slowly – rush hour traffic combined with heavy roadworks by the Hǔmén Dàqiáo (Tiger Gate Huge Bridge) allowed several, now tired, students to get some shut eye.  One student prevented me from moving by using my right side as a pillow.  The cheek!

Friday came and went.  Classes in grade 7 were all cancelled due to parent’s day.  This is like parent’s evening in the U.K., only during the day – and students get to go home once their parent has been spoken with by a teacher.  I taught my P.E. and Science teachers and then tried to rest, whilst preparing the next week’s work.  Having flu does not inspire, as I would soon find out.

On the Saturday, I headed to Hong Kong with every intention of exploring new places.  I did.  I made an effort to visit the Mong Kok, North Point, Wan Chai and Central protest sites.  The emotions I felt here were incomparable to anywhere else I have ever visited.  The passion, the cause, the artwork, the belief, the fury, the anger, the worry, the message and the need never to give in was clear to all.  The Hong Kong democracy debate is certainly very interesting.  People in China now very little as to what is going on there; people in Hong Kong don’t want to have less freedom.  Back in 1984, China agreed to govern Hong Kong under the principle of one country, two systems, where the city and surrounding areas would enjoy a high degree of autonomy, except in foreign and defence affairs for 50 years.  The Chinese government had previously promised direct elections for a new chief executive by 2017.  So in 2014, anger arose when China’s top brass committee ruled that voters will only have a choice from a list of two or three candidates selected by a nominating committee on the mainland.  The scale of the protests is hard to fathom until you reach the ground.  The Wan Chai and Central/Admiralty site is up there with a Glastonbury campsite.  Littered with tents, art installations, a gym, a running track, a café, homework and study areas, lecture areas and other well-thought conveniences.  It is polite too.  Everywhere you look there are apologies for any inconveniences caused to commuters.  The people are welcoming and engage in conversation, they all smack of Mark Thomas without the swearing.

The Saturday evening (and Sunday early hours) was spent in the company of the Hong Kong Manchester City Supporters Club.  As always they were welcoming and this time made me sign up and in return they gave me two scarves in a place where a scarf has no function.

Sunday, involved a wander and some uncharacteristic shopping.  I hate shopping.  It must have been the flu telling me to keep busy.  Monday swiftly plonked itself on the radar.  I finished my lecture for the following day’s cultural exchange activity at another school.  Monday, my muscles really ached.  I clambered five flights of stairs to class 603 only to be told the class was cancelled due to a Chinese class being observed.  I plodded down slowly and without enthusiasm.  After a small lunch, my appetite long lost and subdued, I had class 803 and 804.  The former being a nightmare.  The latter being the absolute opposite.  It was the first time I felt I did not care how good or bad the job was.  The flu seemed to be coming on stronger.  So, in a sensible rush of blood to the head, I decided I was fit enough to play football at 9pm that evening.  Murray’s F.C. Smoggies faced Murray’s F.C. Owls.  Our team. Smoggies, only had 6 players compared to our revitalised opposition.  Many new players had moved into their unit, mainly Max, Brian, and two fellow Nigerians.  This caused some upset the week prior, so we received Rossi in return with Nicolas and Rogerio.  None of whom could get on with the Nigerian contingent.  Kenmicel, Eddy, and I made up the remainder of the six players.  We were pretty well matched, despite me sweating and drinking epic amounts of fluid and feeling utterly abysmal.  My logic was to sweat it out.  Beat the flu by working hard.  In theory it may have worked, in practice, it felt worse.  Our game was the first draw in the Dongguan Foreigners’ Football League after 17 games played by all of the teams to date.  Forfar five, East Fife five would have been a good scoreline to read out had our teams changed names.  The opposition Owls looked rattled and upset afterwards, and yes, Max and his Nigerian comrades were having a right go at Olli (Israel), Terence (Hong Kong) and Marcelo (Brazil).  The team spirit in that unit is low.

 

The Owls have a form sheet of:  LLLWLD.  4 points.  Massive goal difference against.

Smoggies form is WWLLLD in the league.  7 points.  Actually, the worst goal difference against in the league.

 

Although, following an altercation with the very polite referees by Fred F.C. it looks like the league will lose another team.  The all-Brazilian teams are very sore losers, but thankfully for them, they only struggle against each other – and the referees!

 

So, I returned back, a lift by car off Rogerio saving my efforts.  I collected my bike from Marcelo’s who lives nearby, headed for Pizza, went home and slept.  I woke up weighted down, with a building sat on my head and dizzy.  I have learnt here, in China, and punctiliously at this school, how not to worry.  The Tuesday meant I had the presentation at Lakeview Middle School in Houjie, in front of 100-200 English teachers, each autochthonous of China.  I was told a week prior to this the talk or lecture would be in at least two weeks.  That changed suddenly, with me finding out the exact date on the previous Thursday evening.  Soon after that, I asked many questions, and received fewer answers.  I was told it would be one hour long, followed by thirty minutes questions.  So, Thursday and Friday night I prepared this talk, and Monday I completed the task, refining it on Tuesday morning.  As I boarded the school bus, Cherry cheerily conveyed that the presentation will be one and a half hours followed by thirty minutes interrogation.  Thankfully, on arrival, I was still not nervous.  Until I entered the room.  The lecture theatre was very modern, with at least 400 seats.  The lectern and desk at the front as broad as a bus.  The powerpoint screen double the usual standard classroom standard.  No pressure.  I set up the laptop, stood by a tall upright airconditioner and let the cool air slide down my shoulders.  The room started to fill.

 

Teachers, like students, head for the back rows initially, and fill forward.  Nobody wants to be asked a question or made an example of.  On the whole, Chinese people have bad eyesight and require glasses.  So, by going backwards they make the task of reading harder.  Some teachers even brought students.  So, the room’s English ability ranged markedly.  I began after an introduction by the hostess, Miss Liu.  I stopped the presentation midway through for ten minutes break, toilet and water opportunities.  In this break, I was commandeered by a local journalist who asked me many questions.  The second string of my presentation lecture, padded out well, showing off a few games and ideas I use to capture student imagination and creativity.  I could only see three or four from at least 120 teachers sleeping.  Most looked interested and smiling.  Some did wear the usual poker face of no emotion.  I felt overall I did okay.  Not great, not bad.  Afterwards every single teacher had photos with me.  This lasted far longer than the questions and answers.  Since the lecture many teachers have added me to QQ (a Chinese message and contact system) and asked me numerous questions.  It was a tough but enjoyable experience.  I felt drained physically before it, during it, but afterwards I felt slightly more energetic.

 

Yesterday’s grade 6 classes passed well, a new game, called who am I   The game is based on riddles and clues worked well.  In the evening, a large group of us foreign teachers went to Al Pozo’s Italian Kitchen to celebrate Emily’s birthday.  Liam and I had a good catch up, and I met a new colleague from my company Worlda assigned to Liam’s school (Oxford Kingdom International School).

 

The last two days have involved intense sweating, accompanied by the added warm spell of weather (today’s highs are 28°C/82.4°F) and massive muscle discomfort.  But today, I have flu in my head still and mostly my muscles.  Otherwise the coughing has abated, the snotty runny nose (why do we have feet than smell and noses that run?) has dwindled away, and my eyes feel less dry.  The classes today seemed to drag.  Happy Thanksgiving has been the message from many students, some making flowers and some giving lollipops.  I return the Happy Thanksgiving message and occasionally explain, when prompted, why we don’t have such a day in the U.K.  This evening our teachers are all going to a Happy Thanksgiving meal – following on from the Happy Thanksgiving teacher exchange to other schools – which nobody knows much about.  Still, we might find out afterwards!

 

This week I need to make a decision.  Here are the options, I must decide on by no later than next week:

1. My company have offered me a 6 or 12 month contract.  The latter has slightly better pay.  Both involve a pay rise of more than 10%.  If I choose the 12 months, I’d fly back to the U.K. and catch up with family and friends for at least 2 weeks in February.  If I choose the former, I’d travel around China in Summer, return to the U.K. and then decide the next step.  The school really want me to stay, and yesterday, despite feeling utterly bobbins and having little confidence (I’ll explain why later) they said how much they want “the best foreign leader we have met” to stay.  Better than Obama and Cameron.
2.  I travel and work short-term contracts, which are often unstable and not the best way to relax, enjoy yourself or further yourself career-wise.  Not my favourite choice, for I don’t want a career anymore, I want to live!
3. I return to the U.K. and look for a job, which in all probability, I won’t enjoy.
4. I look for a new job, opportunity or company willing to throw money at me in order to remain located here, there or anywhere.
5. Other.

Is 2 years or 18 months too long to be away from the nest?
Zai jian.

The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall

4/7/2014

Rising from the sheets late on the Saturday seemed to be a theme for all our foreign teacher colleagues.  Dehydrated, mouth parched, Nikki and I met Birgitte and headed for the number 5 bus.  Our aim, A-One Shoes, a new plaza built especially for shoes and the sales of soled things.  On arrival, we jumped off the bus a short stroll away.  On closing in, the enormous metal and glass vessel of a building loomed into view.  It half resembled a craft from Star Wars and further looked like the cast of a huge uncompleted cruise liner.  In all actuality it was abandoned, uncompleted and required many further touches.  A ghost shopping village lay next door, a long lost empty and discarded neighbour.  Disappointed we wandered back to a bus stop, not before seeing a man on a motorbike hit a car.  The biker, without helmet and inadequate clothing for such a vehicle flew over the bonnet, landed out of view, a flip flop landing feet from us.  Bits of bike shattered outwards, the sound of plastic and metal meeting unintentionally joined with screeching tyres.  The air filled with burning rubber and tension.  Out dived the driver, his first reaction was to light a cigarette.  Nikki, Birgitte and I hesitantly looked at each other, our first instincts to help met with a conversation based on logic.  In eyesight nearby, there was half a dozen policemen, the driver had a phone out and we knew not enough Mandarin to assist.  The motor bike driver appeared to be sat up, no visible head injury and just a trailing leg that looked knackered, possibly broken.  The driver of the car’s full attention was now on his own vehicle.  The nearby policemen never left their shaded posts.  We walked away.  No other cars stopped, life carried on.

In the evening food was had a restaurant on road in Liaoxia.  Liam, Esben, Bryony, Nikki and I tucked into the several dishes we ordered with gusto.  Becky and Birgitte did not join us as their parents had arrived for a few days.  James stayed in, with a stomach problem requiring numerous uses of the squat-hole Chinese toilets.  Whilst James had no pleasure, the quality of food from this restaurant gave great contentment.  As the gannets circled the central plates, remains became less and less.  An egg dish resembling omelette was so good, it was re-ordered.  The egg and tomato dish; the creamy egg noodles with pork; a gingery spicy beef dish and some bread all vanished sharply.  So did my seat.  Without warning, I was upended.  The plastic legs gave way and many passers-by stopped to look at the giant westerner sat on a half broken chair in shock.  An older lady at the restaurant, likely the owner’s grandma came over and started laughing.  Thankfully I was not injured!  It was funny though.  A new chair followed.  Everyone bid farewell after food around 9pm.  Esben, Nikki and I reconvened at midnight and headed to Snow Bar, where John (the bar owner, he is Chinese and his name is very hard to understand in Mandarin!) welcomed us.  Esben and I tucked into a tower of beer for 48RMB.  Nikki was offered a free Samurai Juice by the owner John.  The Brazil versus Chile game was projected onto the outside wall of Tesco’s.  During the time there I tried some meat and a really amazing aubergine cooked chockfull of spices.  After full time, and as the game entered extra time, I was left all alone.  James had later joined us briefly but felt unwell and scattered with Esben and Nikki homeward bound.  I remained, drinking my way through th best part of the second beer tower.  I witnessed an off-duty policeman go to his car, change and drive away – whilst heavily drunk.  Drink driving here is very obvious.  After the penalty shoot-out, the bar area emptied of the 20 or so souls, and so did the car park.  I then bid farewell to my namesake and owner of the pavement mounted outdoor drinking establishment.

Walking back would have been uneventful normally, a few scurrying rats and the odd sleeping local on benches here or there.  However, I witnessed  a 30 metre section of power cable glowing bright red.  Within seconds two local men stopped alongside me, in awe of what we could see.  The wire casing ignited.  Plastic dripped around us.  A local policeman (sober) turned up.  He just watched.  Nothing was done.  Then another policeman arrived.  He just watched too.  Eventually the wire burst into life, fire and molten plastic reigning down from 3 metres above several cars and alongside an empty looking built up area.  The policemen were joined by at least 5 more contemporaries as the first car window started to kindle.  The policeman became full of action and eventually advised me and the locals to go away.  So off I went, home and in bed for 3am-ish.

Sunday, up in good time, Nikki and I jumped on bus number 5 to Shuilian Mountain Park.  This time not to scale the peaks, more to wander around the reservoir and nearby butterfly house.  The butterfly house’s gardens happened to have many butterflies fluttering by.  The buildings housed galleries, bird displays and even a lonely ferret.  Many tarantulas, scorpions and lizards happened to have minimal enclosure security – meaning any local could open the enclosure, prod and tease the animals into a perfect photography pose – and then leave them be.  We decided to skip going on a boat in the baking heat, headed back via the number 10 bus (and I say via, via Dongguan, due to a minor clerical error on our part) and then the number L1 bus.  A massive 5RMB added to the expected 4RMB journey.  Surprisingly, that evening we were shattered by the extra distance journey through inner-city Dongguan and back.

Monday for me, meant Cherry class, Banana class and Peach class in K2 (aged 4-5).  Lychee class (K1, aged 3-4) slotted in there for good effect.  The day flew by, and seemed to have a cohesion to it, that has been lacking in my magical kindergarten teaching experience to date.  In the evening, Esben, departing Houjie the following morning, acquired beverages of the alcoholic variety for James, Liam, Nikki and I – at the top of Houjie International’s rotating restaurant.  Esben is game over.

The Rickshaw Man

8/7/2014

Classic title time.

Tuesday came, a return to the market for food in the evening and classes as functional as can be expected from kindergarten kids hyper on anything stronger than water.  Wednesday drifted in, a meal at Boton Restaurant in the centre of Houjie followed a short rickshaw ride.  Cod and steak, with noodles and scallops coated in cheese made for a very western themed meal.  The quiz at Irene’s Bar that evening was very well orchestrated by Bryony and Becky.  Varied questions of tough and easy made for good fun.  A team was formed with Birgitte (to mark her final night in Houjie) with Nikki, James, Liam and I.  Birgitte’s parents and their two friends from Norway also appended to our team.  Victory was had, and thankfully not too many Disney questions – as anticipated.  Well done to the quizmasters, for taking flak, handing back wit and banter – and for a fun quiz.  Marcus, Irene’s other half, gave his thanks and a mild applause followed.  Many moons agao, Marcus said he admired that our group of foreign teachers don’t just drink at Irene’s Bar every night, and explore so many other places locally – and further afield.  I think this makes that particular foreign bar much more welcoming.  CHAMPIONS.

Thursday, a nightmare day at school, one late class (Apple, N1 level, aged 2-3) was cancelled without anyone telling me.  In the school there are many teachers, only Yuki, Kitty and Winnie have enough confidence to speak with me – and I suspect they’re the only few who speak English fluently enough.  Not that I am allowed to use any pigeon-Chinese to try and help, one of the big rules for foreign teachers is “Only speak English.”  The earlier classes followed very little cohesion due to unruly and excitable children.  When a class is interrupted by a delivery of plates, knife and forks with a cuddly banana by a local children’s centre promoter it doesn’t bode well for the day ahead.  That and the teacher, who was observing, leant through a window nattering with two passing teachers.  Strewth, how can I win with these rules reminiscent of playing at Old Trafford?

Friday arrived, the day surpassed previous days for levels of chaos.  Firstly, Kitty and Winnie had deserved days off at the seaside.  Secondly, it being Friday, the kids are understandably bouncing off the walls excited by the freedom of the weekend ahead.  Firstly, Apple Class tested my wits, but only for 10 minutes, as two new teachers were introduced to them.  Afterwards classes passed with only two headbutts to the leg and one punch to the testicles.  Talk about putting yourself in the line of fire.

To mark the imminent departure of James and Liam, the terrible two joined Becky, Bryony, Nikki and I for food at Boton restaurant.  For around 615RMB, we all enjoyed drinks, at least 2 courses and a platter of sides to share.  Afterwards we caught a rickshaw to Irene’s Bar, after one drink Bryony went home and soon after, full on several rum and cokes, Nikki went home.  Both had to be in school for 2 hours on Saturday.  After which Liam, James, Becky and I plodded (by rickshaw) to Houjie’s Jiŭbā Jiē (bar street).  We entered the unbecomingly named Party Bar.  A few staff members wangled around, and we played the most popular dice game in the world (chuīniú – bluff or bullshit).  You should play it.  After a few games and during half-time of the Germany versus France game, we rolled over the road to the newly opened H.One Bar, a nightclub/cabaret style bar with a stage that rises up for the staged dancing, singing and other oddity interludes.  For the peculiarity of China, see http://www.chinasmack.com/ or http://www.chinahush.com/.

During the night I think all four of us were accosted for dancing in circles (like I never left kindergarten), “have a drink” with me, drink and talk… etc etc… oooh blue champagne… tastes of bubblegum.  Back massage in the toilet by the toilet attendant?  That is novel.  Ouch, and rough.  The night fizzled out with a drink in Iron Bar as James rolled home, sleeping in the taxi as he left, before Liam, Becky and I shared a rickshaw back soon after.  The two seater rickshaw gave rise to a form of gymnastics I like to call, inebriated.  And into bed for 5am.

Saturday, was surprisingly relaxed, Liam, James, Bryony, Nikki and I went for lunch – at Boton, three times in one week.  The 36°C heat combined with humidity made us all flee to indoors for shelter.  It was too hot for comfort.  Sweat should not roll in some places.  That evening Liam departed to the U.K. via Beijing for a few days.  The market was a stopping point for food with Nikki and Bryony followed by Snow Bar to watch the Argentina against Belgium game.  Nikki and Bryony mixed Samurai Juice (Blueberry based) with Morgan’s Spiced rum.  James arrived soon after, and departed at full time, for a late night McDonald’s (located around 2-3km away).  We bid farewell, James was to head to Shenzen, Beijing and then west Lancashire soon after.  Good luck to James at the University College of Dublin.  He won’t need it, the smart git.  And then there were three.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

10/7/2014

There is no doubt whatsoever, kindergarten is full of characters.  There are the odd shy and silent types that barely compete with others.  There has only been one wee tot who has cried so far.  Most are easy to be distracted.  Some don’t pay attention (full stop).  Each class has at least a couple super-contestants – likely to be very talkative.  The energetic wing of the class usually features one or two naughty brats.  Their attention is not available to you, no matter how much you endeavour.

Points to consider every day:

• Rules, rules, rules, repeat.  Stop.  Try again.  Reinforce.  There is light at the end of the tunnel.  Eyes on me, eyes on you.  Be quiet.  Listen to Teacher John.
• To control a class, you need the Chinese English Teachers or Class Teachers on hand.  Each class should be treated differently and best laid lesson plans will be destroyed with ease.  Children do that.  Never work with animals or children learning English and not entirely fluent on their native tongue.
• Songs, games, activities that are simple – and feature an eye-catching video always help.  Repeat if passion is shown by the students, bend the song to fit to game or roleplay activity.
• Flashcards have to be durable otherwise they will litter the classroom floor.  Forget paper.  Laminate, encase in plastic, entomb in steel – and you may still have flashcards after class.
• You must be clear with your instructions, don’t stop mid-flow and certainly use good body language – vivid and expressive – to win the students’ attention.  Without this, they will eat you alive.
• Keep it interesting.  You are competing with passing spiders, light shining on shiny things, teachers passing by, other students – the list goes on and on, and on… and on…
• Group competition is a great idea, if you can keep the groups separate.  Boys versus girls is easy, unless your class is massively imbalanced on the male to female ratio.  This is not unusual.
• Role play is great, but don’t lose the class with long examples.  Let a fair few people try.
• Sentence practicing is relatively easy, I say relative, it is like pissing into the wind on a freezing cold day with Siberian gusts and many loose branches flying by… but that is the easy part of the day.
• Never introduce more than 3-6 words, depending on the age range of the class.

Of course it is easy to stereotype kindergarten students, they are much more dynamic in their behaviours.  The monster yesterday, could be today’s angel and tomorrow’s disinterested student.  Chinese people work around 50 hours each week, often including Saturdays or Sundays – with overtime pay mostly unheard of.  Students seem to have it the same way.  Long weeks, long hours – and exhaustion mentally or physically common.  Teachers in China are very highly respected, often seen as the second parents to the children students, and their bond with the resident teachers is heartening and pleasant to see.  Respect on the whole follows as standard.  In spite of this, the foreign teacher is seen as a play thing.  And duly so, we work nowhere near as hard as our local contemporaries.

The Education Bureau of China finances state schools from kindergarten to high school.  The state education focal point is school discipline strictly.  State education is getting more advanced but conversely private schools, training centres, and company executives that need teachers are also evolving and improving drastically.  As such, parents and those with financial interest in education want to see results.  To improve your results means you must also evolve, adapt and improve your skills.

That said, nothing prepares you for being assaulted by a group of 6/7 children from K2 Banana Class.

Walk, amble, march, saunter, stroll, stride, pace, toddle, totter, move, tread, pace and gait

14/7/2014

Today, July 14^th is St Stithian’s Show, in Stithians, Kernow (Cornwall), UK.  I hope the day is a massive success for all those involved, those visiting and the community locally and regionally.  Nikki and I wish we were there.

On the previous Sunday (July 6^th) we wandered around the Dongguan Botanical gardens where perhaps the biggest kite I have ever seen flew with relative ease.  I said to Nikki and Bryony that this giant dirty red kite shaped like a stingray would not take off.  It pretty much did instantly, the thermals good, and the kite-flyer clearly vastly experienced in smooth take offs.  The kite’s 100metre plus tail dragged along clumsily but up, up, up it went.  En route to the park in the 36°C sunshine the rusty bus number 5 stopped by Oxford Kingdom International school, oblivious to our location, whilst nattering away, it became clear many more eyes than usual were set upon us.  Words flung back at us like a wall of sound.  The driver thought we wanted to dive off at that stop.  “Bù, xièxiè” we shouted back – and off continued the tarnished old bus.

Monday through to Friday was largely uneventful.  School was 90% chaos with a smidgen of what the flip and two whole pounds of “holy mackerel Batman”.  Wednesday evening saw Irene’s Bar mix it up a little.  Marcus allowed us to draw numbers from a pint glass to designate which team we would sit upon.  Nikki, Bryony and Becky drew number 2.  I got number 3 and joined Axel (from Germany), a loud but fun Aussie lady, Cody from USA, a British lady who knows her Sir Christopher Wren facts well.  In the end our team won.  Surprisingly we did very well, considering we did not answer the biggest tea producing country in the world (China, but we put Sri Lanka) and coffee producer (Brazil, we put Columbia).  Still, we ended with a rendition of We Are The Champions by Queen.  Champions!  See my review of Irene’s Bar online now:  http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Attraction_Review-g297412-d6558560-Reviews-Irene_s_Bar-Dongguan_Guangdong.html

Earlier in the week we watched Transformers – Age of Extinction in the Xingx International Cinema – after a heavy meal in Pengs restaurant at the local Wanda Plaza.  The pasta dish was far too peppery, the chicken dish just right, and the curry was tasty.  I also had a lovely Tuna salad.  We ordered too much between us.  After a heavy meal, what better way than to watch a CGI-loaded dizzying film to keep you alert.  The film was actually very good and hearing the local Chinese audience purr at some of the action scenes was quite funny.  Every time a Chinese product appeared on screen, there was excitement in the auditorium.  Cheers too.  C’est bon is French for its good or something to that effect – here in China it is a leading brand of water.  Product placement present pretty much in every scene.  I won’t be buying a Chevrolet (they sponsor some tinpot team).  Guangzhou and Hong Kong featured in the film too.  Some landmarks were instantly recognised, others had to be looked up later – and disappointedly Hollywood had fibbed a few landscape scenes from northern China into Hong Kong scenes.  Boo on you!

This weekend passed with a trip to Guangzhou, starting on the Friday night.  A short coach journey to the big city was followed by a quick underground metro ride to our stop by the Baiyun Mountain Park.  A lengthy stroll, we should have got a taxi, progressed us to the gates of the Oriental Resort.  The entrance is a kind of a curved European design leading to a long snaking road into the heart of the resort.  At reception we presented our passports, paid the deposit (to include the 796RMB two night double room fee) and went to our rooms.  We then headed straight for the restaurant and had noodles, a spicy stuffed chilli pepper dish and some shredded pork that was very juicy.  We looked at the closing outdoor pool afterwards before heading to bed via our first bath since we arrived in China.

The next day, after a Chinese buffet breakfast and a swim in the outdoor pool, I made Nikki walk, amble, march, saunter, stroll, stride, pace, toddle, totter, move, tread, pace and gait a fair distance.  We walked from the hotel to the South Gate of the park (4km), jumped on a cable cart up the mountain side, had a wander around the top, ate some grub and then explored.  We started at a bird park, headed for Moxingling (the highest peak), fed Koi fish at Taohuajian, walked along the Yunshan North Road and departed the Baiyunshan (Cloud Mountain) West Gate before strolling back to the hotel (around 13km).  So in total about 17km (or 10.5 miles) – and plenty of mosquito bites, sweat rash and sore toes to show for it.

That evening food was greatly appreciated in the restaurant.  After that we watched the supermoon whilst swimming in the outdoor pool.  Moonlit, bats flying overhead and a fine steam mist rising off the water.  There will also be another supermoon on August 10 and a third on September 9 in most parts of the world.  Give it a look!

Any given Sunday bloody Sunday

21/7/14

[written yesterday (20/7/14) ,posted today]

Last Sunday we spent wandering the streets of Guangzhou, shopping is the term most people use.  I use wandering.  For when I shop with Nikki, I lead her off the shop-fronted straights and into the twisted alcove terraces of the shabby ginnels (one for you Asa) or alleyways.  Here you find real China – the animals enjoying their last breaths before the blade arrives; the piles, like mounds of rice, of medicine strong in stench and colours reminiscent of 1970’s English curtains; the ground is littered with by-products of the makeshift assembly workshops lining the close propinquity-based doorways and windows; cats and kittens clamber across canopies and rooftops.  Real China gives you perspective, culturally we in the west are so different, yet the same.  There is much more community here.

Families work long and hard to provide for each other.  Retirement is but a dream or a myth to most.  The old sacrifice time, health and freedom for the young often.  It is evident some companies, state-ran areas, private schools and the odd rich person pay into pension scheme equivalents, but for most it is out of reach.  Most working life starts on leaving school, assuming the person attended school, until near death.  5am is a good time to get up – and midnight is habitually the time to hit the sack.  Anyone working 9-5 shifts is lucky, this is something seen as rare, and retained for Westerners, who have yet to adapt.  Working days vary everywhere, and to any observations are generalised but very close to the absolute precision of actuality.  There is almost always a breakfast at work or school; a lunchtime break; an afternoon snack and regularly an evening meal.  The evening meal is rare in kindergarten or lower grades at primary/junior schools, the younger ones aren’t expected to be up so late – however, being out at night in Houjie, the wee ones always appear to be out!  When do they sleep?

I have, since arriving here, asked many Chinese people, “What do you do in your free time?”  To which the standard response has been, “sleep.”  On asking the question in different forms, the answer either remains the same, or “What free time?”  Some families enjoy long summer trips to their home provinces, but only on account they have saved enough during the school year in order to do so.  Even then, most will work part time or travel locally to earn their bread and butter (or rice and noodles).

This week at kindergarten, I have had some good days, some manic moments and overall reasons to be cheerful.  The last day was quite sweet, lessons were cancelled and sweets/candy was devoured in a way that local dentists will not lose trade for years to come.  Cakes, chocolate and seaweed accompanied.  That and milk-based drinks too vile to be consumed by a sane adult.  The kindergarten kids ate with zest, passion visible by their sugary grins.  I started that day in Apple, N1, the youngest class, essentially babies (aged 2-3).  We played games outside in the kindergarten park (where UK health and safety would have condemned the slide and swings long ago), danced and smiled lots.  Afterwards, Strawberry class (K2, aged 4-5) had a party, looked at photographs of the year gone by and we generally played – and had merriment.  Lunchtime slipped in after Lychee class (K1, aged 3-4) where we started a short class of songs, played with Duplo (chunky Lego) and other plastic based construction toys.

In the afternoon, I joined Cherry class (K2) for a further party, had umpteen sweets forced upon me, and an apple, and a banana… and then the Aunty (a domestic who helps prepare foods, clean up after the wee brats etc) forced me to eat massive purple grapes that tasted like gooseberries.  Life can be so abrasive at times.  From here I went to Banana class (K2).  Banana class are 90% misbehaving and 8% uninterested; the 2% venom.  One kid is pure evil, he even looks like a notorious wartime leader of a state in Europe that recently won some world cup in sport I am familiar with.  He can be nice to talk with, but if you talk to other kids, protect the groin, protect the face.  Brace for impact.  By 4.15pm it was all over, 4 weeks of discordant, blaring, raucous, jangly, pleasant, enjoyable, amiable, cheeriness all over.

That is, until next week, assignment number three arrives.  On Monday, I start my second kindergarten position.  This time, for the same group of schools, at Oxford Kingdom Flying Kindergarten.  I have no idea where the word flying comes from.  I can only assume that the pilots of China Southern Airlines all passed through the ranks of Oxford Kingdom Flying Kindergarten.  That or I am to teach parrots.  My latest role involves a class of K1 students (with one K3 student slotted in for good measure) aged roughly 3-4 years old.  I have 10 classes totalling 30 minutes each, alongside other interaction, outdoor play, and morning exercises.  This role lasts 5 weeks (less the week beginning 4^th of August).

In other news…

The recent Supertyphoon Rammasun (Siamese for Thunder God) brought cooling winds/breezes to our local area.  Nothing more thankfully.  The local media has covered the deaths and destruction it brought to some of our province (eastern area), Guangxi and Hainan Island.

 

In the week, we came 2^nd in the quiz at Irene’s Pub.  We joined a team and missed the first round.  Our punctuality problem stemmed from a late meal at Boton restaurant on Bar Street in Houjie, some distance from our area of Liaoxia.  Our local magazine for foreigners, Here Dongguan, has published a guide to our fair town of Houjie.  Go visit it at:  http://heredg.com/2014/07/town-guide-houjie/ I didn’t know Houjie translates roughly as Thick Street.

On August the 2^nd, we may visit Zhuhai to see The GAC Trumpchi Zhuhai International Lovers Tandem Cycling Race.  Well we couldn’t see the Tour De France in Yorkshire!

So, our week off, we aim for either Zhangjiajie or Guilin.  Guilin is about 538km (334 miles) away by road, roughly the same distance as Manchester to Redruth (Cornwall).  Zhāngjiājiè is just a tad further north in Hunan Province.  Both look stunning, however, Zhāngjiājiè is much harder to get to.  We may have to fly CAN or SZX to KWL (around 1 hour) or go by train (around 9-10 hours) from Guangzhou.  Buses are not an option at 17 hours or so!

Then late August sees the 6th China International Animation Copyright Fair.  It is a kind of  cartoon carnival, cosplay competition and performance event.

Today, we ate at a lovely restaurant.  I say we, I mean Becky, Nikki and I.  Bryony bailed on us yesterday, flying back to the UK via Thailand.  Bryony will be back in around 5 weeks.  Becky flees midweek to the UK via Beijing.

In closing, Happy Birthday to Alexander the Great and Claudio Reyna, Macedonian king.

Semester One: The official summary (by Nikki)

24/7/14

From February 2014 to July 2014, I taught English at the Oxford Kingdom International Kindergarten in Houjie, Dongguan. I taught 4 classes comprising of 64 students; 2 K3 (giraffe and elephant class); 1 K1 (Zebra class); and a baby class. For baby class I had a book called ‘Tiny talk’ to teach. This book just had simple words and sentences to teach, like lunchtime, bedtime, family, weather and much more. For K1 and K3 there were many different English lessons including, audio visual, reading, craft, conversation, song and phonics. For audio visual, phonics and conversation I was given books and DVD’s to follow and use in lessons, which helped a lot!

Students in my all my classes behaved very well, sometimes they would get very excited over the activities I use in class, and all want to try. Baby class enjoyed learning songs with actions, so after teaching the vocab I would play a few videos. Towards the end of the semester the children would ask me to play certain songs, and could sing the songs without the videos. K1 were hard to control to begin with, but after a month or so myself and the Chinese/English teacher worked together as a team, and controlled the children. Some children in K1 were quiet to begin with, but by the end of the semester they were talking a lot more in English. One of my K1’s, Sunny  who is very smart, would always ask ‘What’s this?’, to different objects, which is an excellent way to learn, and others picked up on this question and asked me as well. Both of my K3 classes were very smart and learnt words and sentences very quickly. There were always a few children in giraffe class that would not be listening, so I always made sure to get them to join in with activities at the front of class, so I could check on them. Children in both K3 classes would regularly talk to me in English asking questions about me, and using the vocab learnt in lessons.

The school has looked after me from the beginning, and I get along with all of the staff. All of the teachers have been super, assisting me when I need it. Sofia has always been a great, and she will often ask me for ideas for displays at the front of school, which I also help make. I really enjoy teaching at the school and look forward to next semester.

Semester One: The official licensed summary (by John)

24/7/14

Dao Ming Foreign Language School (Houjie, Dongguan):

• A slightly dated but very pleasant cramped school with many classrooms and not enough grounds.
• The teachers and management are very welcoming, there is an ethos of try harder and you can succeed.  Belief is engrained on the school’s fabric.

 

Job role:

• To assist with the teaching of oral English practice by way of lessons involving games, activities, computer-aided Powerpoint presentations.
• To liaise with the school hierarchy and foreign teacher team in order to formulate different, fun, engaging and varied measures of teaching oral English.
• To improve the English of my fellow teachers and the P.E. staff.

 

Classes:  701-704 (Grade 7) and 801-803 (Grade 8).  5^th Grade VIP.  7^th/8^th Grade VIP.

 

Students’ behaviour:

• This varied drastically between the age groups and classes.  80% of each class seemed to be engaged on the whole.  Several students in Grade 8 seemed to act up to get the attention of others; or simply down to their hormones.  That said, some lessons the same students would be the polar opposite and show absolute enthusiasm for the topic in hand.
• Class 702 were as near perfect a class as anyone could wish for.  They had leaders within, who encouraged their fellow students often.  Their behaviour was exemplary.
• Class 704 were great fun, and whilst their ability seemed a tad lower than the rest, they gathered strength and belief as the semester went on.
• Class 701 always seemed to be a challenge, for the last class of Friday.  At least three students in this class could not be engaged and regular interruptions by their form teacher were needed – however, on the early day in the week, this class was very well behaved.
• Grade 8 classes on the whole had many stand out students – and much more discipline.  The subjects were on the whole harder by a degree, but the desire to learn more seemed to up a notch too.
• VIP Classes varied.  Grade 5 had far too many student changes initially and not enough classes in a row (competitions, rain, etc cancelled a few classes).  After the first 4 weeks or so, no Chinese English Teacher attended, causing problems with controlling around 16 students.  Grade 7 and 8 was challenging but on the whole rewarding.

 

Overall, I like it.  I want to do the best job possible and continuously improve.  I feel I owe it to everyone I work with, for and those I teach.

The Changjiang River waves behind drive the waves ahead.

28^th July 2014.

Nín hǎo (if you’re old) / Nǐ hǎo (to everyone else).

Last night we arrived back, shattered from a weekend in Shenzhen.

Saturday, Nikki, had us onboard a pedal boat (designed for our shorter legged far eastern cousins) racing around an island looking at birds.  That and turtles.  And Chinese people taking photographs of the foreigners on their lake.  Lychee Park is stunningly arranged, a large boating lake, moon bridges, expansive green fields and tree-lined pathways.  Flowers, water lilies, frog filled ponds, beehive displays, dancing by young and old alike.  China might be riddled with development, overbuilding, habitat loss for wildlife, but here stands tranquillity.  Beyond the fencing and outer hedgerows sits a bustling City.  Inside, you’d hardly know it.

 

Here you may whip the camera out at this juncture, gaze at this, observe that, people spot, what a magnificent refuge for life’s need to unwind.  All the green colours and flowers bleed into one kaleidoscope offering no yearning to flee the open space.  Step on in, stay.  There is nothing middling here.

In the evening we walked an endless walk around for food before settling on the sight of our previous evening’s repast.  On the Friday night, I settled for barbecued sausages with peppers and thin sliced pork, resembling soft bacon with courgette.  This was topped off with Potato Tornado (spud on a stick) with spices.  DongMen BuXingJie (DongMen ZhongLu) has some amazing places to eat.  Here you can find fantastic food hidden away up here and there; grab something as a gift; walk and see the shops.  Big names, lesser brands, local and knock off sit side by side.  Bargain, barter and beware.  This was a great place to wander, but like all busy places, it pays to keep an eye on everything you hold dear.

 

On Sunday, we checked out, headed to the central bus and train station area.  Our bags were to sit in a locker for 20 RMB whilst we explored more of the city.  Hopping onto the Metro transit underground subway system is easy, and it was.  Lianhuashan Park was reached by arriving at The Children’s Palace station.  Here a patisserie can be found amongst all the restaurants and cold drink cafes.  The main building from the Metro station has 4 levels.  The top being the footpath into the park.  Outside you can cross a forecourt to admire the impressive Children’s Palace architecture, think modern European style meets Chinese modern.  Intricate and convoluted in shape and gallant in size.  The Children’s Palace hosts an attention-grabbing science museum, 4D cinema and starlight exhibition to name but a few contents.  It’s for kids.

The park, Lianhuashun, has big green fields surround a verdant hillock with the best land-based views of the Cityscape below.  Hong Kong rises in the distance.  In the park there can be found some impressive sculptures and statues.  The landscaped style of the park convenes well for kiteflyers, runners and walkers alike.  We exited the park at Lianhua North Station.  Lianhua West Station was also an option but the path never led that way.  That’s life.

 

Last week, a week that hit 37°C, I started at Flying Kingdom Kindergarten, Houjie.  I expected to have a class of six students, one K3 level and five K1 level.  I boarded the school bus without legroom and fitted with seat lap-belts that could not fit around me.  On board was Winnie, from the Oxford Kingdom and one other teacher I recognised but knew not her name.  Four students boarded, of which it would later transpire only two were destined for my class.

Within ten minutes I arrivedat the huge five storey building of the kindergarten.  The main edifice is accompanied by an outdoor Astroturf play area (complete with a closed climbing frame, a closed sandpit and a closed paddling pool).

On entering the building, a familiar face (name unknown to date) shown me to my classroom.  In here, it was explained that a cover teacher would be present until the afternoon to assist me.  My first student, Justin, was on the bus with me.  He hails from Nikki’s Oxford International Kindergarten and is of Taiwanese or Tibetan pedigree, depending on who you ask.  He looks five or six years old.  His English skills are far more advanced than most in Grade 3 of Dao Ming Foreign Language School.  He is four years old.  He can converse near fluently.  The second student off the bus is a mini-Chinese early day’s Liam Gallagher lookalike.  He even has his attitude.  Tommy is funny, nevertheless I have since learned, has no attention span whatsoever.

 

Soon after Beautiful (her English name) and Doris (I have known only two other people/creatures named Doris in my life… my sister Astrid’s hamster and a teacher at Dao Ming Foreign Language School.  That particular teacher told her friend I’d work for them as a Sales Representative, even though I never agreed a thing.  Lost in translation.)  Beautiful is a chirpy little girl, bubbling away with words I do not understand and always full of smiles.  The same can be said for Doris, although Doris gets giddy far too easy and half-laughs, half-screeches.  My class is Tommy, Justin, Doris and Beautiful.  No more students are expected.  The other students in the summer school bring the total pupils to a whopping 16.  There were initially four classes, but since then, the other three classes have merged.  My class, the K1s, is an elite four students, also, the only students with English classes.  Although I am presently contracted to teach all week, I have 11 (eleven) thirty minute classes (story, performance, song, conversation, craft and phonics forming the core of the English oral topics).

The first day was mostly introductions:  “I am Teacher John.” / “What’s your name?” / “My name is…” / “How are you?” etc…  In the afternoon, Jonlin, arrived from mid to North China (roughly 21 hours away by train).  Jonlin is tiny.  Of all the teachers and staff here, only one is tall, and very leggy for that matter.  On the whole, I am a giant to everyone here, teachers and students alike.  The other teachers and the school Aunty (who cooks and cleans) are very accommodating.  Everyone welcomes me.  The language may be a barrier, but the bodily actions and gestures are international.  The school is large, five storeys, the lower storey has 7 classrooms, an area set out as a castle, an area for spacehoppers and a few other nooks and crannies.  Beyond the ground level is the offices, a medical room, an arts room, a small science room, a western toilet and an area full of fictitious fishing pools, shops and a hospital.  The next floor up has more than a dozen classrooms.  Floor four is a massive building length dance area with a music room adjoined.  The top floor is derelict, incomplete, unfinished, lacking content – dormant and waiting for a purpose.  Each classroom, including my own has a sleep area, like a mini-loft within the room, set high above the student’s eyeline, on a par with my own head-height.  Below that a raised stage, where should I dance, I will wallop my head.  The rest of the room is the standard shelf, table, chairs found in generally most schools globally, although in minuscule sizes.

 

The week progressed in various forms of game, craft and conversation basics.  Justin’s ability outshines the rest, and sometimes it is hard to balance the gap between him and his peers.  At lunchtime, the whole school (all sixteen students) convene in one classroom around 4 desks.  The teachers hang back around the rims of the room.  At the head of the room sits a trolley with the lunch.  Here is where a metal bowl and spoon becomes handy.  After the learners tuck in, teachers can fill their metal bowls.  Soon after eating, the students and teachers retire to the in-class sleeping quarters.  I head out for a walk – as sleeping forty winks is not my thing, not for two hours!  The two hours break is a good time to plan lessons, read or do some shopping in Houjie town centre.  A cold lemon and kumquat tea is always on the agenda.

Monday night, we had pizza at Jerry’s Wow with Becky for her last meal in Houjie before departing the following morning to the UK via Beijing.  Cue Arnie voice, “She’ll be back…” in around 5 weeks.

Wednesday night marked the first quiz Nikki and I entered without other foreign teachers.  We drafted in two regulars to our team and came second overall by a two point margin.  Too many twos.

 

This week gone, we tried a spot of badminton in the wind, and some football tennis (which gives the locals something to look at in bemusement).

Tomorrow is day 169 away from the U.K.  Is it getting easier or harder?  I haven’t thought too much about this.  I miss family, football and friends greatly – but I really love being here.  More to follow… The blog has hit over 40,000 words.  Mostly gibberish.  Gibberish certainly boosts the statistics.  Gibberish is good.

Bài bài la (bye bye – commonly used in Taiwan and locally).

Honk Kong & How to avoid huge ships

4 May 2014

The title is in homage to this link.

Wednesday, as always, means Irene’s Pub Quiz.  With impeccable discipline driven on by Becky (the foreign teacher equivalent of Alex Ferguson) we romped to victory.  There was no real choice, Becky would have killed us should we have been first loser or below.  It is the taking part that counts?  Not with Becky.  3 wins in 5 attempts isn’t too bad though.  As Thursday was a national holiday we could drink our winnings, the vodka tasted vile so we allowed James and Liam to do as they please with the liquid sentence of duress.

For the national holiday, Nikki and I hopped on a CTS coach from the Sheraton Hotel (Houjie) to the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China.  For the national holiday (Labour Day, May 1^st) we were allowed Friday and Saturday off work, meaning Sunday we would have to return to the grindstone (and a latent sluggish six day week).  So, with our bags packed with dreams, toothbrushes and mosquito-repellent the coach tore down the highways of China towards Shenzen and the border crossing.  The journey took around three hours, of which half was spent at the border crossings.  Note the plural.  The first section, China stamp you out, check your visa and then you hop on another CTS coach for less than two minutes.  Here you take note of the next bus stop you need to seek.  You fill in an arrival card for Hong Kong, show your passport, get a little print-out advising when you must leave Hong Kong, oddly mine said by no later than October 28^th 2014 (my birthday!).  After this, you leg it to te next bus stop and the world changes.  Not massively, but enough to notice.

Hong Kong, being an ex-British colony, drive on the left.  There is order.  Traffic lights work.  Traffic stops at them.  There is a significant amount of street cleanliness, better than Blighty too!  Rare double decker buses patrol the streets for lost souls at every turn.  The roads follow clear and easy formats, bilingual signage adorns everything.  Europe and the Western world meets the East.  Guangzhou was big, Dongguan and Shenzen a multidirectional sprawl of urbanisation, and Hong Kong, well, massive.  Proper massive, like the old Maine Road floodlights.

The colossal roads and bridges open onto Kowloon island, looking out at Hong Kong island with ceaseless towering towers looming and soaring skyscrapers climbing the mountain sides like stalagmites creeping from a great lake to the heavens.  The lush peaks lined with dense foliage splintered repeatedly by lumps of leviathan Lego.  Sometimes, just sometimes, you look at a human creation and gaze in absolute wonder.  Hong Kong is one of those amazing wonders, a panorama of artificial textile over a topography twisted by time.

After departing the coach at Wan Chai, we exchanged our Chinese RMB (Monopoly money) for Hong Kong Dollars (special edition Monopoly money).  The Harbourview hotel was easy to locate and check-in was uncomplicated.  The room had a spectacular view of the strait between Hong Kong island and Kowloon island.  Soon after our feet began to pound the pavements, level and smooth, established and clean around the local vicinity.  Nikki and I decided upon a Turkey burger and a Canton Pulled Pork burger respectively, both filling our bellies with great ease.  Exhaustion and the overwhelming nature of H.K. (as the locals refer to it) led to the need to get some much needed shut eye.

Friday arrived, and waking up with a dramatic vista of the city once named after a fragrant harbour.  Numerous Black Eared Kites glide effortlessly on thermals overhead, amongst the skyscrapers and over the sea channels.  Egrets wander the seashore as ships sail serenely by.  Nikki and I head to a Swiss bakery, wander to the Hong Kong Park to see the aviary and explore the Tai Chi gardens.  Here beauty and relaxation surround you, grip you by the arm and drag you away from the city.  The very large aviary with a pathway raised above the trees envelopes your senses whilst many birds make their varied sounds, beneath water flows and fish swim.  Outside the enclosure Yellow Crested Cockatoos (introduced species) perch, flight and battle for their patch of sky.  In 1941, the then Hong Kong Governor Sir Mark Aitchison Young freed the Government House’s bird collection just before yielding Hong Kong to Japanese invaders.  They have bred a fair bit since.  After the serenity of the park, the bafflement of a two hour queue for the eight minute journey up to The Peak made for a polar experience.  The old engine house and equipment being from Bradford, Manchester (think Eastlands, Etihad Campus way) came as a pleasant surprise.  The ride up, with too much anticipation time, was worthy of the wait.  Up flew the train, at angles akin to that of the Harrier jumpjet.

The view at the top of the Pearl of the Orient is the impressive.  As far as the eye can see, islands, mountains, littered with buildings, tower after tower for businesses and accommodation, a patchwork of humanity.  Each building with many different diverse shapes, curved, straight, triangles, coated in seemingly impossible amounts of plastics, wood, metals and concrete or rock.

The Peak circular walk (around 2 miles) was pleasant enough, plenty of views of the city below, the islands afar and the many straits beleaguered with ships and ferries.  Birds flew by, insects roamed in numbers and mosquitoes attacked with rancour.  We stopped to talk to a local Chinese man who shown us his amazing images of juvenile mantises.  He helped us snap some!  Soon after we stumbled on some beautiful leaf and stick insects, I say stumbled, I mean spotted.  The wander ended with some wonderful frozen yogurt at about £10 for two cornets (H.K. is not cheap in any sense).  That evening, we met up with Chris, one of Nikki’s bootcamp mates from back in Essex.  Chris is in I.T. and has been sent to work in H.K. for a few weeks.  There are worse offices, globally.

After the Star Ferry crossed the strait, with magnificent views all around, we made a pilgrimage to the Avenue of Stars (Hong Kong movie and TV stars), took a snap of Bruce Lee’s statue and drank Asahi (Japanese lager) at a local bar.  At this stage it was agreed we would seek steak, on the suggestion of Chris.  On the way back we watched the breathtaking light show that is the Symphony of Lights (H.K. must have a big electric bill), set against awful music.  So, steak we sought and La Taverna (since 1969 located in H.K., ran by some Italians) was average – at best.  And overpriced.  Then we wandered around the hustling, bustling markets before stopping at a Spanish themed bar until 3am, where a taxi ride through the tunnel was required (the ferries stopping at 0130hrs).

Chris failed to mention that it was his birthday that day!  So, shēngrì kuàilè Chris!

Saturday, Nikki and I arose from our slumber late on.  We decided to meet Chris for breakfast (around lunchtime) before going our separate ways (Chris was off to Macau to jump off the world’s biggest bungee jump and we had to get a coach back mid-afternoon.  We hopped on an old H.K. tram, explored some more of the city areas before catching the coach back over the border to the hooters of Houjie.

Today is Sunday and we were both working.  I am shattered!

曼城 Màn chéng (Manchester City) / Yīng Chāo (Premier League) / Guàn jūn (Champion)

13/5/2014 lunchtime.

1. 曼城 Màn chéng (Manchester City) / Yīng Chāo (Premier League) / Guàn jūn (Champion)
2. A six day working week is normal for many Chinese teachers.  I can substantiate to you that working one additional day was far from natural.  Firstly, Thursday is my busy day, and with that I have 6 periods, so Sunday’s classes mimicked that of the Thursday.  Class 704, in effect, having one more class than the remainder of grade 7.  On top of this brutal Sunday school, I had to host one extra class for the Chinese middle school teachers of English.  The subject being a comparison of U.K. and Chinese culture.  Needless to say, a log could not have developed a better style of sleeping than I did that night.  Nikki looked equally shattered.
3. Up dashed Monday morning, the customary 40 minute flag- hoisting ritual.  Three grade 8 lessons later and an early night.  The subsequent day and the haze of a three-day weekend (not quite on a weekend) lifted.  VIP class for grade 5 fell at the hurdle due to a writing competition.  It seems warnings of cancelled classes never arrive before the class starts.
4. Wednesday morning waltzed in, cancelling an English lesson for the P.E. teachers who had to oversee an interschool basketball game.  Hereon, the day progressed progressively with some progressing progress.  We came second in the pub quiz at Irene’s Bar.
5. During what seemed like an elongated week, nothing is better than to have two Thursday class schedules.  VIP class for grade 5 again was cancelled, this time an art competition, held outdoors pulled the plug.  Then it rained, just to ensure it could not be completed.  In the evening grade 7 and 8’s VIP class was a flashy affair.  The monsoon outside developing into a tropical storm.  Most of my class hiding their faces as soon as minute long rumble shook the roof.
6. Friday stuttered along like a McVities advert for a cold loving aquatic-feeding bird.  The evening comprised of food at the market, mainly shāo kǎo (barbecue).  That evening Nikki and I retired to the apartment, shattered but awake enough to watch the remake of Oldboy.  Pretty light watching before bedtime.  I prefer the original.
7. Saturday, Esben and I went to the bike shop to swap my pedals around and generally confuse the staff within Giant’s local branch.  The lady behind the counter wanted a photograph with me, being a giant in Giant.  Esben photo-bombed it (for the elderly out there, Photobombing is the act of purposely putting oneself into the view of a photograph when not invited to).  We then popped to our favourite DVD store, exchanged numbers with some of the staff, spoke limited English to some schoolgirls who kept following us around.  Their giggling and screeching altering a staff member to tell us, “they want to try English with you.”  This is not an unusual request or occurrence, it is pretty much the norm.  Anyway, the TV series Dexter is now on the to do list/pile of things for a rainy evening/day.
8. The evening started at the shìchǎng (market), proceeded to Anchor Bar and then Blue Orleans bar.  Blue Orleans is ran by Luther, a loveable Chicago ex-pat who teaches English too.  He is closing his bar today.  The lack of business, the lack of customers, the lack of regulars giving him rise to sell up, start a language school near Shanghai with his wife.  Good on him, I wish him all the best with his healthier venture.  Somehow, I did manage to get around 40 mosquito bites on my arms and face that evening, not good.
9. Sunday, a write off of a day if ever there was one, we ate, watched bad movies (Four Lions & Con Air) and avoided the monsoon enveloping our lives.  The whole of our foreign teacher circle came over and shared their smelly feet, damp jacket aromas and fridge contents.  I count Liam as eating 87.4% of all crisps we have ever purchased in China.  Esben and I braved the rain, headed to the market, made a bulk purchase of chǎo miàn (fried noodles) and Jiǎozi (dumplings) alongside some Bǐng (flat pancakes) and jī (chicken).  Jīròu means muscle and after walking back in that heavy rain, my muscles strained and one whole pot of chǎo miàn and Jiǎozi entered my belly.  I was bloomin’ ‘ungry.  After everybody had departed Ian Cheesman and The Goat popped on the internet radio, GDTV’s coverage of City v WHU was firmly switched to on – and the game was enjoyed.  Champions of England, once again.  The Premier League is a marathon not a sprint.  We didn’t limp over the line, we deserved to tear the finishing line.  I spotted my mate Nick, Nat, Dean and Frank on the telebox coverage.  Ed, who flies from Mallorca every game was clearly visible too.  To see everyone at the fulltime whistle fill the green pitch in blue, just shows what football means to Our City.  Forget the finances, the sponsorship, the lack of English players – Manchester simply welcomes all, and discards nationality, we’re people after all.  The future is bright for City and the massive Etihad Campus will bring us forward.
10. Monday, or Champion Hangover day, as it should be known, felt tiring.  Two lessons with a projector seemed steady, I asked the teacher in class 801 why the students are so reserved at speaking out in front of their peers, “they’re too concerned by their face; you’re doing a good job.  Don’t worry.”  I don’t worry, I just strive for better, and class 801 speak so well in groups or when I go around checking them individually.  The final class being with a broken projector meant use of the old fashioned chalk and duster on the chalkboard.  It didn’t go smooth, but a roughly filed sharp spike is better than an atom bomb.
11. Today is Tuesday, it is very humid.  All foreigners here are sweating moisture in amounts comparable to the contents of a bucket.  I was going to observe Esben but he has no lessons.  The teachers have taken away his lessons for Open Lessons (parents may observe).  This is odd because Liam, James and Birgitte all have Open Lessons.  Instead I have my three classes and have observed a class taught by James.  I may observe one or two of the other classes later.  Tonight is Mandarin class and Blue Orleans closes, for good.  I don’t think I’ll go to Blue Orleans.

The Walking Puddle of Houjie

13/5/2014 1545hrs.

Until today I did not believe air could be so humid.  Yes, you see humid tropical rainforests on television, people so sweaty their proverbial bits of dropped off, but now I believe the U.K. has the finest air in the world.  The sweat is pouring off my body like the collective Horseshoe Falls, American Falls and Bridal Veil Falls.  [Nikki’s Mum and Dad should know their name]  Outside classes on the open-plan corridors students are sliding, taking risks up and down every slippery staircase to sanctuary.  The walls are damp.  Paper softens with every sap of soggy air that passes over.  The thermometre reads as 30°C, it feels warmer.

My back is clammy, my brow soaked.  My legs restricted by the dampened trousers encasing them.  Soggy pockets hold my increasingly sodden passport entombed in a waterproof wallet.  My arms are sticky and rest on the desk, sticking occasionally and gasping for fresh air.  Every breath taken brings with it heavy air, not choking but heaving and testing the boundaries of my breathing.  My core temperature has risen, ice or a pool of crisp fresh water would be my Elysium.  I desire coolness, the air conditioner and ceiling fan battle heat, losing.  Nausea is my blanket, my stomach coated with water, unable to take more.  My concentration in Esben’s class I observe drops, I see this from the students’ view.  Tired.  Too hot.  Why bother?

Rain comes in short swathes, a storm is wanted, a quick blast of cooler air, break the humidity, this clamminess is a tortuous unwanted moisture.  The forecast is the same for many a day.  Why isn’t there a demand for English teaching in Antarctica?

Singing In The Rain II (*with script*)

3 days ago

Barely a day passes without the questions, “do you have children?” or “will you have children?”  The Chinese are a vastly curious folk and no level of personal question is kept secret.  “How much do you earn?” is easy to defend, because contractually, and to the letter of the local laws, we are not allowed to discuss.  This is because a Chinese teacher will work harder than us, longer than us and earn less than us.  Some teachers work all week, some have one day off, some have the odd weekend off.  Invariably, they habitually work relentlessly.

On Wednesday, I asked the question, “How many days of continuous high humidity do you usually get?”  The response from a younger, much more petite Chinese teacher was, “Until a big storm.  This could be three or four days.  What will you do after China?”  For every question I ask, a finer further probing query arises.  The cultural difference of displaying uncertainty as to that next step clearly fascinates the Chinese teachers, but they accept nonetheless.

The Chinese rarely move occupation or change employers in comparison with us British.  They may move school or college, have a company taken over or be laid off and enter a similar company as a result – or their business may scrape by, but people rarely change jobs.  Even when a baby comes along, the little blighter is popped out, homeschooled for as little as possible and packaged off to kindergarten to learn in great detail.  Forget reception and nursery, kids start school in their first year of life.

Whilst most adolescents in China are surprised by my number of siblings, to mention cousins, uncles, aunts and their jaws hit the deck.  The recent revolution from a one child policy is apparent.  After school you see many younger children (up to 8 years old) alongside their babyish siblings.  Bumps on local women indicate winter was cold, maybe as low as 10°C.  This bodes well for kindergartens but maybe not so well for a population spike.

“When a man and a woman exercise together, they have a baby.  How?”  This is the second occasion and similar phraseology utilised to ask that all important question.  The standard response has always and will always be, ask your class teacher.  Each class has a dedicated teacher, there for most subjects or pottering around when I half-inch their desks.

Last night, “Team Floppy Birthday” in honour of Liam’s 19^th birthday won the pub quiz, we had been 2^nd or 3^rd until the last round, but we crept across the concluding line comparable to commendable Champions.  Prior to that I almost cycled over a dozen chickens in the mean backstreets of Houjie.

Today, like yesterday, has been incredibly hot, a furnace of a day.  Around 14:45hrs a light shower passed over, a few distant rumbles of thunder and all the students holding their hands out to the light rain, welcoming the coolness of every drop.  It did look rather bizarre.

My students refer to me as Teacher John or Teacher, never sir or miss.  Today, a dozen or so of my students had the opportunity to watch the foreign teacher’s enforced audition (yes, we had no choice) for the Children’s Day Show on 30^th May 2014.  To date, we have had 6 rehearsals (without props and effects), but alongside good old Gene Kelly (perhaps the greatest name for a football stand ever).  I give to you the “Singing In The Rain II (or That Play What We Tried To Write)” script.

Singing In The Rain II

(That Play What We Tried To Write)

Act 1:

The scene is a building site.

LIAM:  “I’m working 9 to 5…” [starts humming]

ESBEN:  “I’m so happy, oh so happy…” [hums and dances, with a power stapler in his hand]

BREE:  “I’m happy because I don’t have to watch The Lion King.” [whilst using a trowel to apply make-up on ESBEN]

LIAM:  “To me.” [Liam throws James something)

JAMES:  “To you.”

LIAM:  “To me.” [Liam throws James something)

JAMES:  “To you.”

[Enter] JOHN:  “Good morning workers.”  [John walks towards James] “What is your name?”

LIAM:  “Don’t tell him your name James!”

(a phone rings) SOUND EFFECT: NOKIA RINGTONE

[ESBEN answers a giant phone] “HELLO… I’M BUILDING AT A SCHOOL… I CAN’T HEAR YOU…. GOODBYE”

JOHN:  “James, have you fed the parrot?”

JAMES walks over to a parrot in a cage, the parrot is stuffed.

JAMES:  “Yes, but he hasn’t eaten.”

JOHN:  “Let me have a quick look at him.”  [the parrot is examined, hit across the side of something] “This parrot is dead!”

JAMES:  “He’s not dead.  He’s just having a sleep.”

JOHN:  “He very much is dead!”

JAMES:  “”You stunned him, just as he was wakin’ up! Norwegian Blues stun easily.”

As this happens… the argument fades away… LIAM lifts up a plank of wood, walks by JAMES, turns and hits JAMES on the head.  He then turns another way hitting ESBEN’s head before passing BREE who ducks to avoid being hit.  LIAM then ponders, realises he forgot something heads back hitting ESBEN’s and JAMES’s head again.  BREE dives out of the away with a big reluctant smile, “Phew!”

JOHN walks on reaches into his pocket, pulls out a paper bag, opens it, pulls out an imaginary ball, shows the audience, throws it in the air, catches it.  BREE looks at this in envy, tries to copy it, throws a ball in the air nothing lands.  JOHN snatches the bag back and catches the imaginary ball.

JAMES:  “What do you think of the show so far?”

LIAM:  “Rubbish!”

BREE:  “Today is sunny, I hope it doesn’t rain…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Act 2:

[Music starts to play:  Singing in the Rain, by …]

Duration	Actions	Lyrics	Flashcard
0:00	Singer emerges from door, holding hand out checking for rain.  FALL GUY watches.  Singer opens umbrella.	Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo…	UMBRELLA
0:17	FALL GUY:  look of confusion; eyes follow the singing/dancing person & the runner by covering their head.	I’m singing in the rain Just singing in the rain What a glorious feelin’ I’m happy again	HAPPY
0:34	Singer with umbrella spins around a fixed object, lamppost?	I’m laughing at clouds So dark up above The sun’s in my heart And I’m ready for love	HEART
0:46   *0:55	Singer throws umbrella and does not catch it.   *water from a drainpipe onto FALL GUY.	Let the stormy clouds chase Everyone from the place Come on with the rain I’ve a smile on my face	SMILE
0:58         *1:11	Singer folds up umbrella, skips side to side. FALL GUY moves to right about 1 metre. *water from another drainpipe onto FALL GUY, who takes off hat, scratches head.	I walk down the lane With a happy refrain Just singin’, Singin’ in the rain	SINGING
1:15   *1:25	Singer dances forwards and backwards.  FALL GUY walks side to side following singer’s movements.   *Bucket of water thrown onto FALL GUY.	Dancin’ in the rain Dee-ah dee-ah dee-ah Dee-ah dee-ah dee-ah *I’m happy again! I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain! I’m dancin’ and singin’ in the rain…	DANCING
1:33   *1:39	Singer pushes a canopy hung up above.  The canopy empties water onto the FALL GUY.	I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain! I’m dancin’ and singin’ in the rain…
	MUSICAL PIECE. FALL GUY, “I’m wet through!” protests to the singer. FALL GUY snatches the umbrella, singer shrugs shoulders, walks away. FALL GUY tells the audience, “I’m wet through!” FALL GUY soaks himself… in / by ???
			I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain! I’m dancin’ and singin’ in the rain… Why is each new task A trifle to do? Because I am living A life full of you.

The BBC TV recreation featured Ernie exactly copying Gene Kelly’s dance routine, on a set which exactly copied the set used in the movie, and Eric performed the role of the policeman. The difference from the original was that in the Morecambe and Wise version, there is no water, except for some downpours onto Eric’s head (through a drain, or dumped out of a window, etc.).   John Robert Acton-Brown’s recreation was written hastily, mostly copied and edited in homage to the original – not for profit, but to introduce others to Morecambe and Wise.

“Our hands may be active, but our consciences are at rest.”

7 seconds ago

Today’s title comes from The Churchill Centre.  Not even remotely Chinese in origin, but it does make good bedtime reading.

Thursday evening passed by without eventualities worthy of note.  The lack of local internet access at school and home proving costly to the process of doing lesson plans and materials for the following week.

Friday could have easily passed as an audition into a boiling underworld, a cauldron of a netherworld, the road to perdition, or an inferno within the abyss.  Houjie had a power-cut of biblical proportions, which someone did not affect our apartment blocks, but everywhere else was not spared.  In hindsight I am exaggerating but in reality it was brutal agony.  Firstly, all foreign teachers were asked to turn up at 07:30hrs for photographs with Grade 6 students.  This eventually started by 08:15hrs, as is the way locally.  After a few random snaps, it was apparent the power would not return to the town (and school) anytime soon.  Goodbye powerpoint.  Secondly, water coolers and ceiling fans depend wholeheartedly on a constant supply of electricity.  Some local shops had generators, but not many.  Dehumidifiers dotted around the school’s larger buildings resembled colossal paperweights.  By the time 10:20hrs arrived, I had observed a lesson by Birgitte by means of chalk and chalkboard.  My class started ten minutes later.  704 are a very good class but you could see the heat draining their eyes, their many pleads of teach outside (in the raw sunshine) falling on my deaf ears.  We soldiered onwards; it was enjoyable and seemed to allow them to speak a great deal.  My back had drained and my stomach full of water warmed by the thermal nature of the air.  Class 703 arrived and the teacher from this form elected to cancel my class and just practice reading.  Her protest of “They won’t listen, they are too warm” being enough for my agreement.  “Go and rest, cool down” she told me, the moving mere of Manchester.  So, I went to observe a class by Liam and further repeat the dehydrate/rehydrate cycle. Lunchtime staggered in, a storm blasted through, I was utterly drenched, but relieved of too much heat.  The air heavier with humidity but far more welcoming than the intensity of the morning high temperature.  I ran back to empty the freezer in our apartment of a pot of luxury strawberry ice cream.  Nikki lay there is the air conditioned room basking.  Her neighbouring kindergarten where Briony works had been sending students home, having roasted the wee ones right through.

The afternoon rain faded within the hour, classes resumed, powerless, class 702 embraced my impromptu activities well but their polar opposite class 701 had burned out long ago.  Interest was not present, respect was distant and concentration so titrated it could easily have passed as a homeopathic lesson.  The afternoons on Friday start early and end at the usual 16:40hrs.  The storm began again after I impulsively observed Liam’s final class of the day.  His grade one students have buckets of enthusiasm, and whilst sweating like athletes after a full day’s training, the little blighters were still bouncing off the walls.  Straight after class, the heavens opened up, the downpour flooding the lower pathways of the school enough to merit tiptoed walkways between buildings.  I met Liam and Birgitte at their office.  Soon after James arrived.  We wandered up the building to the penultimate floor of five levels.  We looked across the vista at the low cloud, heavy deluge, lightning strikes and listened to the cracks, claps and din of thunder.  The inundation of rain dizzying the senses by the sheer magnitude of the cloudburst.  Every now and then a strike of lightning would crest a building nearby and the rumble would seem dangerously close.  Having seen a hasty lightning probe zap from above our roof over the courtyard below onto a neighbouring school building we scattered to the sanctuary of the office again.  Birgitte advised the teachers had moved desks because the lights above sparked around the time the building was struck.  Monsoon season is never boring.

In the evening, Liam, James, Birgitte, Esben and I ate at a steak house (which did not sell steak).  Nikki was out with her kindergarten staff for a meal at the posh Hyatt Garden Hotel and then KTV that evening.  I chose chicken in tomato sauce, on a bed of rice.  Out came chicken, in a white sauce on a bed of spaghetti.  Nobody seemed to get what they ordered.  We politely ate up, paid and vanished.  The food was so insipid and so trivial that it merited a pizza practically straight after.  The pizza shop (one we have not tried before), being of very good quality and orange juice was only 1¥.  The workers there even chucked an additional drink in gratis for everyone!

Soon after we retired to Irene’s Bar to drink the Champions of the Pub Quiz vodka bottle and other various drinks.  Much later Nikki joined us, alongside Briony, Becky and teachers from Briony’s school (with such exotic names as Yukky).  The intentions of an early night scampered, Nikki and I went home around midnight; Esben retired much earlier; and the rest of the clan went to Pink Lady for further licentiousness.

And then one Saturday morning, a bus took Birgitte, Briony, Becky, Nikki and I to Guangzhou.  The weekend involved a trip to the dark ages (I mean zoo), a meal in the evening at Perry’s Bar and overnight accommodation at Lazy Gaga’s.  Some of the zoo was okay, some was awful.  Saturday night, Sunday morning (Esben’s birthday) was spent playing Poohhead card game with Chairman Mao Zedong style playing cards.  Sunday, the monsoon swept through Guangzhou limiting tourist opportunities outdoors to visiting shopping streets, playing hide and seek in the city, and exploring many shopping malls/centres/precincts.  Esben, back with his beard, received a “I love beards” waterbottle from our group.

I started work today at 07:00hrs, not bad for someone who hates the morning almost as much as sweetcorn.  After reverberation, replication, recurrence, reappearance, repetition, and reiteration of the phrase “Good Morning,” I was released to relax at 07:40hrs.  The 07:55hrs flag raising ceremony appeared to be rained off.  Take two arrive twenty minutes later, as did the rain.  The initial marching with flag was okay, then the first attempt at raising the flag failed, the flag floundering as it was not fastened up correctly.  The national anthem being cut short on the parade ground, and soon after the ceremony became defunct.  Next door, Nikki’s nursery played over the loudspeaker a tune to make all westerners laugh, “Ole, Ole, Ole, we are the Champs… we are the Champs…”  Well it is a World Cup year I suppose.

MCFC, HKFC Citibank International Soccer Sevens Champions.

7 seconds ago

Anyone of the group of ten from Brandon Barker, Charlie Albinson, Pablo Maffeo, Kean Bryan, Thierry Ambrose, Ashley Smith-Brown, James Horsfield, Angelino, Nathaniel Oseni and Denzeil Boadu will give Manuel Pelligrini something to look at and hopefully a selection headache.  In 32-35C heat, with the sun overhead, City looked as professional as ever.  The famous sky blue kits and the two away variants being worn with pride for each battle.

Throughout the tournament the Hong Kong Manchester City Supporters belted out chants and did the odd Poznan.  They clapped the opposition and cheered equally for very goal.  Typical City fans.

On Sunday, City U-18’s fought out a hard victory over Hong Kong U-23’s.  Their opposition had won 2 and drawn one (against Newcastle Utd 0-0) of their group games.  The 3-1 win in the quarter finals, seeing a Thierry Ambrose double and a Kean Bryan wondershot.

City earned a semi-final meeting with Sunderland (who came 2^nd in their group behind Kitchee) and the Black Cats seemed stronger in the air and much bigger in build.  City patiently got the ball onto the deck, worked it around before Pablo Maffeo drew City level.  His half pitch sprint and dive onto Jason Wilcox acted as a prime example of the team’s belief in their gaffer.  The entire squad soon piled on.  Sudden death extra time arrived, meaning four against four football.  City shed their keeper, looked to gain and retain possession.  Angelino popped on his gloves, passed the ball patiently with the other three blues before rifling a shot hard into the onion bag.  City followed Kitchee’s tactics in an earlier game of fielding an outfielder player and working the ball around towards the net.  Angelino’s superb strike being one of confidence and a worthy winner.

The group stages on Saturday gave light to City’s spirit in the squad.  City never looked like losing to Singapore Cricket Club (a 4-0 romp), Rangers (a well battled 1-1 draw) or a very well organised (and undefeated in 2013) BC Rangers (drew 2-2).  The final results in the group meant City topped the league closely followed by Rangers.  BC Rangers also finished the group on 5 points but goal difference sent them to the minor competition.

The final was a match up between Group C winners City and Group B winners Kitchee.  Hong Kong’s dominant club and won the 2013/14 First Division.  City’s age difference, the build difference and overall underdog appearance against a side more acclimatised to the weather conditions on the back of their successful season did not stifle the young Citizens.  City battled valiantly and earned the win.  Sadly, I could not stay for the final as I had to catch the last bus to Houjie (China) at 1900hrs.  Well done to the lads, the highlights on TV looked great!  Here is a team who can battle form behind, fight to the end and refuse to be beaten.  Champions.

Indiana John & The Rickshaw Ride of Houjie

9 seconds ago

Monday, May the 19^th’s classes last week seemed improved upon previous Monday classes.  Class 801 actually talked a lot when required, 802 delivered their required demonstration and 803, as always allowed for banter and hard work.  Not a bad day.  Tuesday rolled up and a solitary lesson with class 703 flew by without a great deal of fuss or commotion.  Sometimes classes feel smooth.  The students engaged, the work flowed.

Just when you want to go riding or running, Wednesday threw a torrent of rain at us.  The probability of rain increases as time draws closer to 16:00hrs.  The evening we celebrated Bryony’s 23^rd birthday with a slap-up meal at the market followed by the pub quiz (we came 2^nd) at Irene’s Bar.  The competitive teams often shout cheat, despite all phones being firmly away and it being obvious their teams are using their phones!  Some of the ex-pats here are a tad bitter towards other foreigners, this strikes me as very odd.  They are nice as pie face to face, but in their clicks, they can be right (excuse the Mancunian) “knobheads”.

Thursday, dragged by, rain and heat does that.  Oh and the six classes.  At lunch Liam, James, Esben and I went for pizza in town.  Esben and I returned via rickshaw, and survived.  My VIP class with the grade 5 students resembled and outtake from Gremlins.  A video of the rickshaw ride is here.

Friday, a lunchtime audition for our show on Children’s Day passed well, probably the best we have performed as a group.  Although I had to explain to Esben to duck from the plank or place his hands over his head and let the plank strike against his hands to create a loud slap.  His forehead having a little abrasion for his troubles.  Liam and James behaved too, this is rare in any rehearsals.  I’ll put it down to the heat and exhaustion.  Birgitte is professional.  I am not very confident in my performing skills (or lack of).  I need to perfect the Eric Morecambe paper-bag trick.   I was more annoyed it cut my class for 702 into half a class.

Nikki and I spent Friday evening on a bus to Hong Kong, queuing for very little time at the cross-border passport points.  The coach from the Sheraton Hotel in Houjie changed to a luxury people carrier for 5, due to lack of customers.  I for one was not complaining, top quality air conditioning and comfy leather seats beat a coach journey.  We checked into the Ovolo Hotel in Aberdeen (easy to get to from Wan Chai/Hong Kong central) and enjoyed the free minibar (two Tsing Tao beers, several soft drinks and a snack pack).

On Saturday morning, Nikki and I swept through the breakfast buffet like a plague of locusts.  After which we headed to Hong Kong Football Club for the football.  In the afternoon we explored Mongkok after taking the Star Ferry across from Central.  Soon after we wandered every market in the area (well it seemed that way), soaked up the views and bright lights.  Three polo shirts (for school), experience bargaining for a laptop fan (with built in light), a City towel, a traditional fan, an embroidered picture and a few random other bits later we finally had food (Mexican in Wan Chai) before heading off to dreamland.

On Sunday, Nikki went off exploring whilst I topped up my sunburn in Hong Kong Football Club.  We headed back very late on and went bed soon after.  Shattered.  Sunburnt.

Following a month of inactivity over at http://acton28.wix.com/a28/apps/blog , I have decided to relocate to wordpress. I have been unable to login due to a processing error and a lack of error solving information hasn’t helped me. So here we go… take 2. Bit by bit, I plan to move the old junk here and end my association with Wix.