bus

Return of the Bus Journey

20/11/202320/11/2023oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

No plan survives contact with the scheduled 76 bus. Nor the second timetabled bus. Arriving late into town meant one of two things. The 192 bus or a train. The train is the quicker option to Stockport. The price, a modest £5.30 one way, demanded a mortgage. The things you do to try to get to work on time. Cycling is off.

Having missed the 0748 Manchester to Bredbury train, I tried to slingshot ahead of the later service arriving to Bredbury at 0835. Sadly, the bus at Stockport’s Heaton Lane bus station was scheduled for 0835, too. Murphy’s Law. My cursed aching muscles and sudden varicose vein development on the right leg suddenly became weighted against a potentially exhausting bike ride to work the next day.

Having rang work to say I’d be late, I questioned how getting up earlier to arrive at work later made sense. This is Britain, formerly Great Britain. The new Manchester Bee Network for public transport is the least integrated and most underwhelming range of services known to mankind. People in Himalayan foothills have more reliable public transport options. Adding a rebrand to buses, trains, and trams in Manchester makes as much sense as being a Public Relations officer for Suella Braverman. Lifestyle choices, my arse.

Better late than never? I want to work. I enjoy my job. Today, however, I still feel worn down, lethargic, and done in. Still, it could be much worse. Jules Verne could turn this morning’s journey into an adventure. Likewise, it could be much better. Here’s to a blessed week.

Dear UEFA…

15/06/2023oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

Below is a draft letter:

ADDRESS TO: UEFA, CHAMPIONS LEAGUE, Football Supporters’ Association, City Official Supporters Club, Manchester City, City Matters, Fans Europe, TBC, etc…

RE: LETTER OF DISSATISFACTION

Dear Sir or Madam,

I wish to express my complete dissatisfaction of many aspects experienced before, during and after the UEFA Champions League final in Istanbul. I understand that UEFA has disclaimers and small print to cover some of these matters, but that is a poor excuse for the overall ineptitude on display. I politely request you review the matters below and apply strategies to future events to avoid such a wealth of embarrassment.

On arrival to İstanbul Sabiha Gökçen Airport, at 11:00am, I immediately stepped onto the first coach which said MAN CITY – Yenikapi. After less than an hour into the advised 1.5 hour [as advised via the UEFA fan app and uefa.com ] the coach’s engine was pumping smoke out. The driver pulled into a service station and said to “wait twenty minutes”. I didn’t mind it, and most supporters were understanding. We grabbed food and waited about an hour for a replacement coach. The coach did a tour of Turkey, passing the Atatürk Olympic Stadium, before heading back into the centre, missing turn after turn, whilst the driver kept asking passing motorists for directions. The coach arrived at the UEFA Champions Festival for 4:00pm. I entered the festival, used the toilet and went to find how when to get the coach to the stadium.

Time spent on a bus: 4 hours.

After joining a queue, exposed to direct sunlight coach 3 departed into traffic, arriving at the fan zone of the Atatürk Olympic Stadium. The temporary car park and pathways were unwelcoming but not a hindrance for the mobile. I did see several fans helping people pass over the uneven surface to the City fanzone. The queues for food at the fanzone and the lack of options to drink were unpleasant but expected with such large crowds at 7:00pm. I asked for an ice-cold Heineken® Original but couldn’t get one as the man serving advised that they’d ran out. I went to another tent and found a beer to enjoy, but couldn’t queue for food as the service was beyond reasonable.

Time spent on a bus: 2.5 hours.

After this, I walked through another security check. Yenikapi had two bag checks. The fanzone had two bag checks to enter. A further two bag checks was made before walking to the stadium along the ten-minute route. On entering the gate, I had my bag checked at three points. The final bag check, the man emptied my small A4 bag clumsily. He refused to allow a 50ml sunblock container, my smaller-than-phone-sized power bank and a small packet of rivaroxaban (with just 2 pills left). I snatched the latter back, which was wrestled from my hand by the steward, and asked to see a supervisor or boss, and that boss refused the permitted items. Bizarrely, they overlooked the loose coins in my bag. Using what little dignity, I had I picked the rivaroxaban from the rubbish bag and emptied a tablet into my hand and swallowed it. I needed it for the flight back on the next day. Two 20mg tablets of the anticoagulant decreases the risk of developing Deep vein thrombosis (DVT) dramatically. The steward and supervisor laughed at me and I walked away.

Before the game the service for food and water was acceptable, save the 5 Euro price of water for tiny-little plastic cups. I hydrated and purchased enough for the game. However, by half time I was severely dehydrated, dry and had a sore throat. I went to queue for water. After 15 minutes of half-time, I was still queuing and listening to the haggling of those selling water at the counter by block 332/331. I could hear City fans being offered a 1.5L bottle of Pepsi for 35 Euros! By the time Rodri scored on 68 minutes, I hadn’t been served. I’d missed the goal of the top-level competition in Europe and I couldn’t celebrate properly because I was past thirsty. Around the 75 minutes mark, I was served but had to argue the 10 Euro price of the advertised water at 5 Euros. The counter man said it was “bigger” than other water bottles earlier. I even had to haggle for Pepsi and paid 15 Euros because there was no hope of getting a drink later. This is a great shame. The region deserves a greater profile and the culture is amazingly diverse. This was not a good advertisement. This buffoonish fan experience was a yarn with little pleasant anecdote.

When Rodri scored, and I missed the goal, the server of the drinks and food even recorded the fan reaction of the crowd behind me, ignoring the angry and annoyed fans in front of him. Others behond the counter behaved similarly.

After the game, I tried to use the toilet to vomit, as dehydration curing by Pepsi hadn’t gone well. I rushed behind the signs in the Fanzone to find a plethora of campervans spewing with rancid faeces and urine. The vomit added to the tarmac of disgust.

The joy of seeing your club lift the trophy quickly became a reality call, that a bus journey was needed to get back to İstanbul Sabiha Gökçen Airport. Post-match buses to the airport were scattered around a toxic fume-pumping atmosphere of stationary cars and coaches. The waiting point was blocked by a bus unable to move, and only after forty minutes did a lesser-spotted steward advise that the bus was “somewhere down a road or in the car parks at the back”. He advised me to go look for the bus. Walking on uneven stones, through cars edging impatiently and leaving little room for movement, I became thankful that I did not bring my son to the game. This was no safe place for a family and a kid. Eventually, I jumped onto a bus with other fans. Here, the bus edged out of the car park during a two-hour period. On meeting other fans at the airport, I was told of people who had had their phones stolen, passports snatched, and other permitted items seized at the stadium.

Time spent on a bus: 4.5 hours.

Is it acceptable to spend 11 hours on shuttle buses? As, the premier cup of European nations, the UEFA Champions League is supposed to outshine every tournament in the region. On reflection, I truly believe the final to be the most underwhelming experience I have experienced. I compare this to remarkable cycling (track and road), rugby league, athletics, martial arts and other experiences that I, or friends and family, have attended over the last three decades. I do not expect a response, although one is certainly welcomed. I feel that UEFA’s Super Cup in Athens and future finals will be difficult to attend without worry and anxiety.

Key points:

1. Two concessions stands for the away end curve of the stadium.

2. Insufficient stewarding and staffing.

3. No simplified WiFi access for fans travelling overseas.

4. A lack of functioning toilets.

5. Gravel carpark and exposed fan zone areas with little shelter from sunlight.

6. Lengthy shuttle bus journeys without access to water or toilets.

7. UEFA branded tape on stadium steps came loose, causing a huge tripping hazard.

Yours faithfully,

J.R. Acton

Other notes: FSA survey completed.

City official dossier? Consider UEFA review?

No UEFA response, consider an ombudsman

Peace and comfort.

02/04/2021oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

I can’t roll my eyes. Nor can I change my seat. The old man besides me is yelling like thunder. His voice so loud that my chest is shaking. His young grandson is shaking a phone, striking it on my legs. He’s but a year or two under half a decade of age. He’s just watered the seat too.

I can’t change my seat. Nor can I stand up. The elderly man has boxed me in. There’s a stack of mangoes, sticky and sweetly overpowering in fragrance. They hide the wretched stench of urine. They boy ignores every dramatically loud instruction. “DO NOT PLAY!” “BE QUIET!” “DO AS I SAY!” His flabby chin wobbles with every wasted forced breath.

I can’t silence the noise. Nor can I use my earphones. I’ve dropped them onto the floor. Into the piss. The gray old man, swats his grandson’s head but still the boy persists in screaming and cheering. “Automan! Automan! Automan!” One superhero and his name rattle throughout the coach. The smell is getting warmer now. The heat of the coach’s overworked air conditioner is vaporizing the urine. Breath it in.

I can’t understand the old man. Nor can the old man see I’m annoyed. The child suddenly stops. He ceases all noise. His grandfather keeps hitting his head. Not gently. There’s a slapping sound. Thud! Thump! Slap! He shouts and balls at his prey. I kick my bag to try and stop the flow of warm stinking yellow waste water finding it’s way to my bag. The bag skips a beat and lodges between the old man and his grandchild, now sat on the floor. The grandchild looks up and strikes the old man with my bag. Oh! My! Gosh!

I can’t understand what the old man is shouting at me. Nor can he catch my look of innocence. He spits between his words and I suddenly want a rain jacket. The flow of words and abuse rains down on me. I’m thankful for my face mask. He prods a finger at me. I understand a few words. Foreigner this. Foreigner that. America or something. Go away. Get out. And that’s when I decide I’ll never use a public coach again. The end.

He’s not gapp

Visit Kathmandu 2020.

11/03/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

Sawasdeekhap / Namaste / Welcome!

I’m sat here, in Thailand, writing an chomping away on a bag of makok. These fruits come from the Spondias Dulcis flowering plant. They’re sour, and pickled ever so slightly. The tough flesh makes it feel like a beastly olive. I’ve had this fruit in curries before, and always wondered what it was. Now, I know, I like makok. Oh. That’s erm, awkward. I like to eat… No I can’t finish that. Makok is very… No, not there either. The sour pickled green ball is yummy. That’ll have to do. I bet it’d make a mean dip if the chunky seeds were removed. Just don’t name the dip.

Finally, I have got round to my time in Nepal this year. 2020 has been marked as Visit Nepal 2020, a concerted effort by the Nepal government to get overseas and overland visitors to bring their hard-earned money into the country – and experience ever-lasting moments that will tease visitors back time and time again.

The landscapes from valley to valley within Nepal can give you sensory overload. My experiences across two visits gave me a bombardment of sounds, sights, tastes and colours. The moment I left Nepal the first time, I wanted to return. This applied to the second time – and has since applied to this third time of visiting.

I touched down in Kathmandu, Nepal once more. This trek was to take in some of the Annapurna Circuit region. With prior knowledge of snowfall being heavy, I purchased some rusty looking blue crampons in the twisting narrow streets of Thamel. I’d enjoyed a great breakfast at the Northfield Café and a good night of sleep at the Northfield Hotel. I was excited and happy to be back in Nepal. My plan was simple. Go for a wander. No aims, no worries. Some passes and some mountains can’t always be seen. It is, what it is. Bumping into Srirang at The Café With No Name, he revealed his plan to trek the Annapurna Circuit with Livia, from Hungary. We’d all met last year trekking the Everest Base Camp route. I had no problems about joining them on the walk this time around. Srirang looked much leaner than last year. He must have been training hard in his native Mumbai city.

Armed with a great salad, and a wonderful pumpkin soup, I tucked into my Panini and enjoyed the feel of this wonderful backstreet café. A ginnel is the route to the small and atmospheric café. All the profits of The Café With No Name are sent to the charity Our Sansar – which benefits street children and brings them into education. Every great coffee or beer you have, benefits someone. That’s maybe why I decided to visit this place every lunchtime I had spend in Thamel, this time round. You can find it down a small alleyway. Look for a chalkboard when you face from the central supermarket looking in the direction of Purple Haze Bar. When you reach the bar, swing left and somewhere by Merry Hotel, you’ll find this treasure of a café. Expect to feel at home on the crate-made tables, and cosy furniture. There’re books to exchange and lots of things to make the eyes wander. The staff are great and so heartwarmingly friendly, it makes you want to live in Kathmandu. Perhaps the world’s dustiest city needs great retreats. This is one such wonder. Expect to feel a great musical vibe and return time and time again.

At Northfield café, that first morning, I sat with a beaming smile on my face. I enjoyed a good hearty breakfast, with the masala omelette filling my belly, alongside a strong coffee. The staff went to turn on the heater, but I was enjoying the cool air. Cold air sharpens the senses. It keeps your wits sharp. It helps me to focus. Heat makes me sleepy and sluggish. I sat watching people drift up and down the street outside. Few shops were open. Shutters sank and sagged to the ground like dull metallic cold blinds to the world beyond them. A few clear western people walked by. Some were spiritualists, hippies long off the bandwagon of Thamel’s once famous Freak Street, trekkers, climbers, cultural tourists and no doubt a few who reside in Nepal for work. There’d be some amongst them feeling enlightened, some caught in the ambience and many sponging up the vast cultures around them.

Looking at the headwear of those passing by, there were knitted ski hats, traditional and regional ethnic pieces, and an equally diverse array of jackets. Some combined with various pieces of formal office wear and others with striking multi-coloured knitted socks. Evidence of around 125 different people and 123 languages mingled with tourism and those from elsewhere. It all belonged perfectly. A tapestry of diversity in a wealth of colour. This intertwined nation coexists with such ease. Poverty and adversity sit only around the corner from the luxury cocktail bars and the bright lights of pocket-sized night clubs.

The tarmac road created less than two years ago, now looks swollen, crumbled and churned. Bits stand out here and there. A vintage Royal Enfield motorbike tackled potholes and narrowly missed a static scout mannequin outside of a store proudly displaying Gurkha knives, the kukri. Khukuri World Store was a trove of gifts, memorabilia, and shiny things hoping to lure people inside. The scout model held out a Nepal flag, its beautiful triangles coated with the sun and moon, a combination of blue, red and white like no other flag. Next door to this knife and survival gear shop, a sprawl of 100% natural cashmere and yak wool piles spilled over two steps. The Friendly Pashmina Shop had so much stock, it was practically leant against the White Mountain Outdoors shop further along the row. Above which was a White Water Rafting Co., somewhere beneath layers of dust and soot. Dusty raincoats, sleeping bags and long puffy down jackets hung still, half admitting that they’ll never find a buyer anytime soon in that state. A ginnel (tiny pathway) into Nana Hotel looked uninviting between a sodden empty crates and Nepalaya Money Exchange. The shutters of Al Noor Gems revealed little indication of what treasures lay within. I guess even Indiana Jones would be put off by the rusting bulk of metal. The possibility of tetanus for the sake of some fool’s gold wouldn’t be a good gamble.

A hairdresser and the ATM cash machine tussled for space over a few cubic metres as the morning footfall started to increase. School children dressed in an array of uniforms drifted in small clusters or singularly up and down the road. A hooded man, slimmer than a twig, drifted amongst the crowd playing the sarangi (a string instrument) and trying to sell many of the same pieces from his sagging shoulder bag. Along the very same road, powerlines and cables draped the floor as workers fed neat replacements overhead, clearing years of cluttered dangerous cables. Trybal Handmade’s shop’s lights flickered in reply. A call for help and stable feeding. New life, please.

Inside the glass-window front of the restaurant and a little over the shoulder, a family sat enjoying their foods and drinks. The grandmother of the group made gratified noises as two younger women, perhaps in their forties, jostled food around their plates. Three young children ate quietly with great respect for their surroundings. They talked infrequently, warmly and softly, amongst themselves in what I believe was Urdu. I don’t know the language but I recognised one or two words. A smiling waitress with big beaming eyes came over to them and served them tea. The well-kept long hair spilled from her headscarf far beyond the rear of her waist. Her hand glittered with earthly coloured stones, natural and modest yet bold and fitting. The Northfield Café itself had warm earthly colours dominate the walls, and even a real tree trunk shot up through two floors and out of the roof offering a canopy of green amongst the buildings.

Effigies of door gods stand by the glass entrance doors. A piece of A4 paper is taped onto the inside of the door. It boasts of WARM DINING inside, without skimping on the use of capital letters. By now my omelette had vanished and a second cup of coffee had found its way into my hand. Three men joined the large respectful group. The conversation remained tender and calm. The younger children remained as attentive as I did to my coffee.

Two staircases within Northfield Café stretched upwards. Two lobbies spilled outwards giving an aura of space. The energy of the room had a seamless flow. My eyes strayed around the room enjoying the care and attention each member of staff gave to newly seated customers. Each patron matched the calm of the room. The staff both blended in and simultaneously made themselves available. Hidden servants of the spiritual rooms of Northfield Café. The very essence of the symbiosis within the walls. Just like the draw of Kathmandu, I was excited to be back in the Northfield Café once again.

Sticking to food, we visited Gilingche, a Tibetan restaurant, far too late in the day and ate far too much. I had to take a doggy bag home – and fed a dog. I’ve visited here a few times and always enjoyed it.

Following two days in Kathmandu and a few purchases, Srirang and I took a tiny taxi (enough room for knees by your ears), two bags and a squashed driver to the new bus station. Here we purchased our bus tickets to Pokhara. And with a ticket for 17:00 and being told it would take around 13 hours, we departed just after 15:00 and arrived less than 9 hours later. The bus had spent an hour loading with apples on an industrial estate within Kathmandu too. It stopped at the Dal Bhat Power restaurant, around half way – and the scenic route had weaved perilous mountains throughout the foothills of the Kathmandu valley and the lower Himalayan range all the way to the reasonably flat Pokhara area.

Visit Nepal 2020 has progressively barred visa on arrivals to many nations. China, as Covid-19 origin, copped for it first. Three missing Nepali guides and four Korean trekkers succumbed to a terrible avalanche that also saw hundreds of people rescued from the Annapurna Base Camp region. In 2014 alone, 40 people were killed on the Annapurna circuit in one sever snowstorm. Nature rules these ranges. Man (and woman) is a guest. On top of this Donald Trump and USA struck Iran’s top military brass with missiles, putting many under the impression that perhaps a global war would follow. Even days after I landed the tragic news of eight Indian tourists died in a room, probably from carbon monoxide poisoning. With a lack of flights, and mobility – or will to travel during a time of pandemic, Nepal’s tourism, imports and other support lines have shrunk. Hotels, trekking lodges, guides and other such avenues offered to overseas clients have receded faster than my hairline (in the last decade). The demand from these avenues to agriculture and industry will slim faster than a diet pill overdose. An already struggling country is facing yet more challenge. I witnessed Kathmandu on my return from Pokhara and the Annapurna regions. It was akin to that of a ghost town. Nothing much happening, but worry and fear. And on top of all this (and more), many have mocked the artistic interpretation of the yeti drawn up for the Visit Nepal 2020 campaign.

Rhino deaths, Nepal may struggle even further. Over half of the money, earned overseas by Nepali workers, comes from Qatar (think World Cup construction), the U.A.E., Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain. As the virus hits that region, Nepal has taken actions to keep its people safe and on Nepali soil. It was no surprise to see that Visit Nepal 2020 has been postponed until 2022. I hope to return for Visit Nepal 2022 – and maybe I’ll pop back in 2021, if time permits. But right now, humanity is battling. We must pull together.

But, first a cup of tea…

March 2014’s posts

15/12/201601/01/2024oyster28catcher (JRA)

Last bus from Guangzhou

3 Mar 2014

Last Wednesday, it was all lesson plans in and feet up around ten p.m.

After school on Thursday I had to teach the Chinese English teachers some English. We discussed the difference in UK working/study hours compared to China. I can safely say they were shocked. I also explained on my old school, Reddish Vale, we had a a farm, and no animals were ever slaughtered for food. They did not understand. I did stress on the whole in the UK we have a cuddly attitude to animals in general. I avoided the badger debate.

Later that day, we joined a group of foreign teachers to play (and I use this word loosely) basketball and football. Suddenly, our status in the community went from being strange western folk to rock and roll stars. The locals at the quaint square showed us how to play basketball – and we in turn played piggy-in-the-middle with a football. Some badminton occured but on the whole not much to pass comment upon.

Friday night arrived and we had some grub at the local market with Briony, Becky and Birgetta. Esben, James, Simon and Liam weren’t allowed as their names do not begin with the letter b. I’m unsure how we managed to get an invite on that basis. They did stop by briefly before getting a taxi elsewhere. The food was akin to Chinese meets Tapas. We each grabbed some grub (around 50 Yuan, enough for 5 people) and added our own beers (6 Yuan per 600ml bottle).

On the Sat’day, we popped over to Guangzhou by bus (38 Yuan) with Esben and Birgetta. It took just over 1.5 hours from Houjie bus station (via Dongguan). The journey wasn’t too bad, with plenty to see, including Baiyun‘s cable car. We then popped on the busiest underground railway I have experienced to Shamian Island. Here there is a pretty green gardens full of statues showing old and modern life in the this once colonial settlement. Oh and birdsong throughout! This is something I have noticed in Guangzhou and Dongguan so far, there is so little nature! The whole region has many river basins, tributaries and streams. You will not see any ducks. You’ll barely see any birds.

After the little island hop, we wandered though the main market area and eyed the varied spices, dried dead things, funghi, caged birds and plants (loads of Bonsai trees and cacti etc) before settling down for a late lunch at… Pizza Hut. Think UK Pizza Hut but smaller portion pizzas, regular is tiny. Oh and they do rice, noodles, Chinese teas, Chinese food too. Compared to other places, cost wise this equated to 330 Yuan for 4 people. Massive difference to any local foods.

Once the bill had been paid we headed to the banks of the Pearl River, strolled along and enjoyed the bright lights, hid our distaste of the hook-a-duck style game for bunny rabbits, turtles and little caged birds… delighted at seeing a wild terrapin swimming, only for someone to scoop it up and put it in a box (food or pet?). In the distance we could see the Canton Tower, very far away. It is massive, China’s 2nd tallest building – and globally number 5 on the freestanding structure front. This is one place we shall explore soon!

Our feet grew heavy, so we departed via bus (30 Yuan each) – changing at Dongguan for a taxi (60 Yuan between 4 of us). The last bus from Guangzhou to Houjie departs at 1830hrs – and we left at 2120hrs.

And last night I watched Manchester City win the League Cup on Chinese TV, on a sofa. Armchair fan.

Timetables do not exist

4 Mar 2014

Nín hǎo!

So, today I asked what time do the buses run to Guangzhou and where can I find a bus timetable. The response gained was simply, “They run diffferently every day and change often, even on the day.” So if you travel by bus, pray one is there to be journeyed upon. On Thursday we both have to travel to Guangzhou, to arrive by 1430hrs, by bus. We leave our workplaces at 1130hrs. The journey can take anywhere between one to two hours.

Oh and as to timetables, today I had not one, not two but three massive school lesson timetable changes. Life here is so fast. People here work hard, things filter through bit by bit. But on the whole, you’ll not hear me rumbling, life is good here.

Nikki has just wandered in off the streets having been out drinking with foreigners from another school.

Now I shall pop on some Morecambe and Wise* before bed (it is 2210hrs now). Feel free to email me videos to download etc – and anything you think I can share with my students. There is a great website here called Tudou which has reasonable streams of recent movies.

zai jian

(*something to get the locals into)

Well Nikki writes a post!

7 Mar 2014

Hello everyone!

Well I finally got the link and password for the blog, so now you get to hear some bits from me. Well week 3 is over can;t wait for the lie in tomorrow. It’s not just me but all the teachers feel tired once we get to Friday. I’m fine teaching the kids as they keep me on my toes, but as soon as I get home thats it I shut down. Really enjoying it here its a great community there isn;t a day that goes by without someone saying hello. I’ve not done any running as yet, but do have trainers for when I start just been busy preparing for the 15 lessons I teach each week. Now I know what I’m doing (kinda) I can start Nikki’s Chinese Bootcamp in the next week or so.

Really enjoying teaching the kids always make me smile. I teach K3 (5-6years old), K1 (3-4) and baby (2-3). K3 is fun as they are really smart and can understand most of what I’m saying/teaching. There are a few kids that constantly speak to me in Chinese so I just keep smiling and saying yes, but I love that they want me to be part of their class. K1 is hard work as they are very playful, but they are my favourite class as I get lots of hugs from these kids (plus I know all of their names as only 12 kids), just need to think of ways of controlling them. Baby they are cute they have no idea of English so its down to me. Now they know my name everytime I walk by their classroom they say ‘Teacher Nikki’, this always makes me smile. I even stay and have lunch at the school with one of my K3 classes, food is better than the free food in the canteen where John eats. They even celebrate birthdays of the kids during the month by having all classes together, we all sing Happy Birthday,play games and then we all get cake! I have already helped redecorate the school with kids crafts/drawings, craft is defo my favourite lesson the kids love it,and during it they are quiet and well behaved.

We hope to explore the area over the coming weeks/months just need to get an idea of how to get to some of these places.

I have chatted to some of you on skype however if you are on skype and have not got my address it is little_nikkinz@hotmail.com would love to hear from you all.

Take care and I’ll write again soon 🙂

In memory of Gran

2014-03-09 08:19:57.0

We’ve just sponsored Family of Ivy Freeman. You can help them raise money for Dr. Kershaw’s Hospice too by donating at www.virginmoneygiving.com/team/IVYFREEMANFAMILY

John & Nikki x

The Cliff Richard fan club

9 Mar 2014

Nín hǎo!

On Wednesday, one of my colleagues, Birgitta had her bag snatched on the way to school. The culprits sped away on scooters with a bag containing Birgitta’s passport, laptop and purse. Since then the school community, the local Police and foreign teachers community has really pulled toghether. Thankfully she wasn’t hurt and has responded positively, despite what was clearly a tough ordeal.

On Thursday we went to Guangzhou to apply for residency, a process pretty painless, save for a reasonable sized queue and the local government office taking our passport/foreign expert certificates off us for about 2-3 weeks. we have photocopies until they are returned.

Today we went for a wander, looking at some shops and the town centre of Houjie, where we found the first DVD shop I have seen in China (that isn’t found on the back of a wheelbarrow). We got Muse live at Wembley and an Elbow DVD for 15 Yuan each (about £1.50). There are recent releases for similar figures too. There were around 20 shelves of DVDs from the west, but one was wholly set aside for Cliff Richard! Afterwards we spotted some impressive cacti for sale, alongside goldfish, rabbots and terrapins. Nothing in China surprises me anymore.

This weekend has been grey and rainy, alike to that of Manchester. The forecast is to quote the locals very poor (http://www.bbc.com/weather/1809858) – just hitting 20-24C next week.
Nikki wants some plimsole shoe things. In Houjie, where we live, you cannot move for shoeshops. Every second shop sells belts, sunglasses or accessories in some form. Every building, be that shop or house seems to sell shoes. This place caters for millipedes, with tiny feet.

This past week has been all about preparing lessons for the coming week – and activities for my Grade 5 (10-12 years old), Grade 7 (12/13/14) and Grade 8 (13/14/15) classes. I have regular classes (around 40 students), VIP classes (8 to 14 students) and classes for PE teachers or English teachers to learn English better.

Tonight, we met several more foreign teachers, a Russian called Ginny, a lad from Cambridge called Adam and his partner Nicky from That London way. They came with several Chinese teachers for grub at the market. Nikki seemed to be enjoying hersefl, having shaken off a mild form of man flu manifested in a cough and general aches/pains. Nowt serious thankfully.

Right time to watch Uncle, downloaded from BBC3 recently.

Zai Jian!

Rest assured it is centre not center

14 Mar 2014

Wǎnshàng hǎo! Good evening!

“Teacher, you have spelled kilometre wrong!” Back off American spellings? No, I had to explain the difference between USA American English and proper English from proper England. I even avoided a debate on oven bottoms, muffins and barmcakes (cobs etc) – I think here, just calling a bread roll, a bread roll is enough food for though (pun intended).

This week I have succumbed to using a VPN service (roughly £5.70/month) as access to a proper search engine is needed. BBC iPlayer, Facebook and Twitter is a bonus, that said I won’t spend too much time on them. A bigger bonus being that I can change the Internet Protocol address to other countries and watch their TV online… good bye free time, hello TV. Scrap that, TV is not something I am missing that much. It is good to watch some comedy on every now and then, but it is not essential. Tonight, a group of us foreigners are off to a Korean BBQ place. It doesn’t specify if the food is of south of north decent, I assume Korea is unifed it’s love for grub and hate of ostrich meat (topical… but where?).

This week has flown by, work is busy but very, very laid back. Today, in one class a Chinese English teacher was asleep, in her custom made deck chair. I wanted to take a photograph but didn’t want the students to notice… oh and no phones are allowed in class… so I didn’t. It isn’t the first class this teacher has kipped in. On a sidenote all students sleep from 1245hrs to 1330hrs daily in their classrooms, and most teachers follow suit. Not me, too much to do. I have to practice my ping-pong skills (or lack of).

Oh and the PE teachers thought I was scared of a giant spider in my office. I was trying to catch it to take photos!!! It was as big as my hand, grey (or gray, sicne 1825 AD in US of A) and quite flat looking, but immensely fast.

This May I have my eyes set on a trip to Hong Kong FC to see MCFC Under-21’s. Fancy going?

Have a good weekend!

Gàobié / Goodbye!

John & Nikki

The oddity of scale

19 Mar 2014

G’day!

So many people, left, right, centre, behind, infront, all over. 1,363,370,000… and rising by 0.46% per year (ranked globally as 155th on the CIA World Factbook. The U.K. is growing faster percentage-wise and ranks at 147. China has 19.1% of the Earth’s people. China’s official government bureau dedicated to statistics even has its own clock to show the ups and downs. China has around 141 people per square kilometre, compared to the UK’s 262 people per square kilometre. So why does it alway feel busy?

Welcome to MegaCity One (one for the graphic novel geeks). 711,820,000 people in China live in large towns, conurbations and cities. In the U.K., 79.6% of people live in an urban environment. In China, it equates to around 50% (and rising). The percentage of arable land set free for farming here is much higher than the UK, as such, 943 people are sustained on each km squares of arable land to the U.K.’s 1077. China has lots of ghost cities, towns, shopping centres and sparse unpopulated built up areas. Of the 16 gargantuan apartment blocks I live in, the vast majority stand dormant, dust-ridden and bidding for new occupiers. One such example was on TV recently here (and after searching online via a very colourful search engine), I have read more into Ordos. Have a gander, loads of opportunities there.

Anyway, last night I joined Nikki, Bryony, Becky and Bri with the lads (Liam, James, Esben) at the square. Life here never seems to stop. At 5pm the roads and public areas are busy, the same at 7pm, 8pm, 9pm etc. The girls danced in a local version of China’s Got Talent (a big square full of couples and kids, cheap disco lights provided by rollerskate-clad kids zooming by and Chinese music of the disco kind). Meanwhile us lads (less Esben who fell over in a recent shower accident and gashed his feet – this is his second such fall in as many months) played football with the local children. I say football, I mean, I’ll pass, James’ll half-pass, Liam will pass, then the local kid smashes the ball at… a) a fellow local kid; b) an innocent passer by; c) in the mush of one of our group’s face. Proper good clean fun. Last night we even had a local man join us and show us his silky skills. There is always a real sense of community and welcoming here. And dust…

Dust, more dust and dirt. There is no three second rule. Chinese people squat to talk or sit somewhere clean. The floor has no seat, bags are held onto and not placed down, and anything dropped is pretty much discarded. Streets have order on the whole, litter is few and far between, there is always a hand road-sweeper to erm… hand. There is more dust than I care to imagine. Houjie is under the process of building a major shopping area, new hotel area and railway line. On top of that every second block has some form of minor re-construction or other building work. Esben, Liam, James, Bri, Becky and Bryony all live in a block for interns. On Saturday, they were kept hostage by building work. The 7-storey building adjacent was occupied last Thursday. By Friday it was empty. The top floor relocated to the floor below. On Saturday morning, the builders blocked the interns into their apartment. Gravity and physics brought all remaining blocks to the road – blocking the interns’ front door (until around 6pm). Things just happen here. No warning signs, no roadblocks, nothing to indicate health and safety. If Rosie (Health and Safety) at Aviva could see this, she’d be flabbergasted!

That night we went to KTV (Karaoke). The Chinese love it. We met the interns, Randy, Armstrong, Vanetia, another Nikki and Mike from a different school at the market for food, crossed the road around 9pm, paid 98 Yuan [around £9.80] (for all 13 of us, including snacks, and 6 drinks to be shared) – it being about 4 Yuan a drink thereafter (about 40p). In KTV you get a booth/private room (with ensuite Chinese toilet, nowt to shout about), a TV and Karaoke computer ad 2 microphones. You then murder every song possible. The selection methods are odd but many western classics are on there. Each is butchered accordingly. 13 people, 13 lots of differing tastes and a considerable mess later we head home. For marriage reasons I cannot mention Nikki as being on the porcelain blower to God that night, but to be fair, she had been on the local brandy, and had lager. Cider and rum being nowhere to be seen. Ford the record, I sang a couple of songs, badly. Your rain is on me.

Yesterday, I was bitten on my left cheek (face not bottom) by a mosquito. Bite number 3 of the Chinese adventure. I’m fairly certain Nikki has not been preyed upon by the airborne biting fraternity.

Thought of t’ day: 0.83% of Chinese people speak English. Welcome to job security and demand to all English Teachers.

Local forecast: (Imperial measurements) (metric methods)

Who’ve we got out here then?

Becky, early 20s, from Birmingham/Sutton Coldfield area. Softly spoken, mean sense of humour when her partner in crime Bryony allows her chance to speak. You never see Becky or Bryony separately. They are not Siamese. Becky is often seen in dresses, she suits them a lot. Becky teachers in a Kindergarten linked to the school but approximately 10 minutes away by bicycle. I believe Becky is from the mental health profession originally. How admirable.
Birgitte, AKA Bri, Bree etc, mid-to-early 20s, Norwegian. Her accent is American. She looks American. There is an apple tattooed on one of her wrists, she lived in New York for a while. Norwegians appear blonder and certainly more fair-skinned. Bree is going on to teaching at University after this TEFL placement.
Bryony, early 20s, from Scarborough/Whitby way, British. At first I thought Bryony was mouthy, loud and possibly obnoxious. I could not have been more wrong. She is just loud. Brighter than she makes out, a good conversationalist and passionate about teaching the wee ones in Kindergarten. Her eyes are steel-willed and intense, I will not pick an argument with her at any stage soon. I think Bryony is pretty down to Earth, a proper Yorkshire type.
Esben, from Denmark, around 21. Dippy, clumsy, accident prone, naive but generally very friendly. His sense of humour is different. Still a puppy that is well travelled and needs to relax and stop trying hard to be popular. Esben loves his hair and beard too much. Vanity issues. I think he is the youngest of a few brothers. He seems to like drinking and living up to a Viking stereotype. I’ll keep him away from the villages…
James, below 20, from Ramsbottom or Rawtenstall, East Lancashire way. If James was any more laid back he would devolve or become Mork from Mork & Mindy. He is very giddy over things like dinosaurs and politics but means well. He can sleep in the average nightclub, with all speakers blazing Justin Bieber or some god awful racket about the fox’s choice of speech.
Liam, acts 12, is 18, from Weymouth, Dorset, U.K. A little boy, but bright, competitive but non-threatening. He’s different because he is from Southern England, Bath is Barrrtttthhhhfff. He isn’t one of them hoity-toity types. He seems to be like peas in a pod with James, they’ll miss each other after China. They may even get married to each other.
Simon, early 20s, Swedish. Stereotype lived up to. Rarely seen with other foreign teachers, he regards himself as a “token white person.” He does openly admit to being here for inter-racial relations with the locals.

Not a bad bunch here, very little character clashes so far and certainly no backstabbing or bitching – unless I’m the topic of conversation (unlikely as I am boring). If you are one of the above and you feel my descriptions have been less than satisfactory, you know where you can recycle the letters and write your own prose or elegy.

That’s all folks!

Something flu by

2014-03-20 03:54:41.0

Dear diary… dear friend… dear John… etc

Sat’day afternoon I was feeling groggy, but nowt major. Sunday, I seemed to perk up but occasionally had a bout of dizziness. Monday, my voice, came and went several times over. I had three classes, it was a managable day. Tuesday, three classes later and I felt awful. Along popped Wednesday and cold sweats, hot flushes and every part of me ached. For two days I have been to bed early. Today, I feel worse, yet yesterday I seemed to get better as the day went on. Today, I ache. Have I been to the gym? This morning, Bright, the head of department informed us foreign teachers, the sudden change from cool to hot temperatures brings a seasonal flu. That may explain the numbers of sneezing, coughing and spluttering students that are in classes. There is the odd empty seat as students are off for vaccinations etc too.

Oh and spitting is massively normal and accepted in China. Hock one up, the bigger the better and gob it out, walls and floors are acceptable. I won’t be joining this habit! Yuck. Great way to control flu…

In the U.K., I pretty much would not have gone to work like this. Here it is expected, deathbed or doctors before you consider a day off. It hasn’t been an easy day. I have not finished my powerpoint presentations or games & activities for next week. I have done my lesson plans for the 18 classes. Maybe tonight I will finish, if I stay awake. Today’s classes have felt like a strain, a burst of enthusiasm seems out of reach. My Grade 5 students bounced around happily and I just managed to keep them on the right side of anarchy. Meanwhile my Grade 8 students were half asleep, tired by a combination of hot weather, P.E. classes and flu symptoms. A half-inert teacher did not inspire them greatly! The four-in-a-row and racing car games got their attention, mind you!

For lunch we had an option of beef (mostly fat), seaweed and chillis (do not eat when ill or dehydrated) or fishheads (whole) in chilli with green leaves or finally soup. There is always lots of white rice. Always. So rice and beef was today’s lunch time choice for me. Nikki can eat in my school canteen but opts to eat at her school (they get way more choice, noodles, dumplings etc). Most foreign teachers avoid “fish-head Thursday.” I have tried it, but there isn’t much meat on a noggin of any fish. The eyes taste horrid too. The brain isn’t that bad. I’d recommend that.

Anyway off for dinner (evening meal or tea) now.

Ta’ra!

John (Nikki will write soon!)

Maintain lane discipline

2014-03-23 02:47:16.0

Yesterday, we fancied a wander. In this neck of Houjie, there is the odd park, a river and some sports parks to explore but nowt major to shout about. So, we set off around noon, the temperature a mild 23C, from our gaff to Nancheng (between here and Dongguan centre). Two and a smidgen hours later (via a food place that was playing Christmas songs in English) we arrived in Dongguan city centre. Along the S256 Guantai Road, we deiced we’d head for Dongguan city centre. 13.7km later we arrived at a welcoming park with a half-drained pond, some sort of Chinese talent show stage and a concrete screen of animals you can no longer see as they have been eaten.

Dongguan is massive, but not as big as Guangzhou or London. It does have some pretty big open spaces in the centre. The parklands stretch up through the cityscape like a snake descending a tree. Dongguan markets itself on being green, it isn’t far off. With our Here Dongguan map and monthly magazine we wandered around aimlessly. The odd English poster was to be found adorned the odd shop window about ex-pat activities. Dongguan appeared very new, international but lacking of old buildings and traditional Chinese decor.

The park wasn’t bad, then we had a gander in a shop and Nikki now has some more minions… and I have a bottle of Captain Morgan’s spiced rum for 元91. Yey! We had a wrap with something carrot and bread based in, very light indeed

On the way back we grabbed a taxi (after walking from Dongguan centre to Nancheng bus station – nowhere near the city centre! It is worth noting the other bus station by the South China Mall is much further away too!) and it cost a massive 元23 (or £2.30) for a 20 minute ride back. Taxi rides, coach journeys and other trips along the road are interesting. There appears to be very few rules on the road. Generally cars switch lanes like some wild version of roulette and lanes are optional at the best of times. Cycles, mopeds, scooters, or three wheeled taxi bike efforts can use pavements, roads (regardless of direction of the lane) head on, alongside, through red lights – with no hint of regulation, and if the Police are present, there is again no rules. Maybe I should get them to consider cycle helmets.

This week I am mostly trying to learn numbers in Mandarin… and they have a smidgen of logic… but are damn hard to understand.

〇 líng 0

一 yī 1

二 èr 2

三 sān 3

四 sì 4

五 wǔ 5

六 lìu 6

七 qī 7

八 bā 8

九 jiǔ 9

十 shí 10

十一 shíyī 11

十九 shíjiǔ 19

二十 èrshí 20

二十一 èrshíyī 21

二十八 èrshíbā 28

三十 sānshí 30

三十二 sānshíèr 32

四十 sìshí 40

五十 wǔshí 50

六十 lìushí 60

七十 qīshí 70

八十 bāshí 80

九十 jiǔshí 90

一百 yībǎi 100

And, to close please visit http://acton28.wix.com/a28 to see photographs on the tab marked Spring In China.

Ta’ra!

Tasty little things

30 Mar 2014

Tuesday came, Tuesday went – and with it high humidity for the best part of the day. Somewhere between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning my body had become an all-you-eat buffet for mosquitoes. My left arm has gained two prize winning bites; my right hand was not spared a nibble; the left forearm had a bite; my lower back had two lumps of feeding frenzy and my ankle (right on the sockline) copped for one too. So yesterday, I was a tad itchy but resisted – and still each bite falred up like a dod displaying it’s breeding lipstick (too graphic? Tough, my bites are bigger than the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral). Today (Friday), I find another additional chomp mark by my left eye. So, how do you avoid mosquitoes? Nuclear war seems the only viable option. That, and tonight I shall stock up on coils of mosquito repellent at tesco (or our other local supermarket). The mosquito net (in our otherwise mosquito free apartment shall be put up, just in case). Deet and the alternatives are at hand. Not so I can avoid being bitten, moreso to avoid canine penial metaphors. It could be worse Briony has a massive 28 bites from one evening. From nowehere came the winged terrors.

Good news is here. On Thursday, I invested in a bicycle (the seat stem had Giant Butted written on it, a selling point of ever there was one). Bad news is equally here. Last night I suffered my first punctured tyre. The roads here are littered with bits of metal, glass and shards of the wastes of life. I have a pump. I own a helmet (practically the only bike helmet in China – and one that fits too). I also have a rear bike light. Bikes here (scooters and motorbikes too) rarely have lights. Cars often never use them too. I’ve seen artics travelling poorly lit streets in our area with what i can only describe as two Tesco value torches fastened to the front. Anyway, tonight I shall buy lubricant and a puncture repair kit for my bike. Nikki hasn’t got a bike yet. That is something we shall sort this week.

This weekend, starting Friday, I intend to go to the pub ran by the wife of Marcus (a Maori bloke). We had a pub quiz there last Wednesday night. Our team came second but with the team name “Liam’s Mum’s Tribute” as the least imaginative team name going, we didn’t deserve first place. The team that came first had and average age of 55. Our team’s mean average age was closer to 25. The round on US aircraft threw us out a bit but we still came 2nd that round but we lost many points in the music introduction round. It turns out Otis Redding and Elvis Presley are not our collective strong point. Next time we’ll win!

On Tuesday, we wandered to a local temple, (see the map for our location by Liosha Road/Liaoxia). It was very pretty, and had some good views. Photos will follow at some point.

At school this week I have had two very quiet days, Wednesday and Thursday being month end exams for my grade 7 and 8 students. So with that, 8 classes were cancelled. Feet up? I think not. I was asked if I’d like to teach kindergarten (Nikki teaches them). It turns out the two kindergarten schools located next to my school are linked with my school and another. Nikki’s kindergarten shares facilities but not graduating students. So, James, Birgitte (referred to as Bri), Briony (known as Amy due to kindergarten students not being able to say Briony), Kelly (another foreign teacher from a local kindergarten) joined forces to prepare for Friday’s demo/recruitment class.

This morning started with weather (sunny, cloudy, rainy, and windy – complete with actions), the days of the week, a body parts song (heads, shoulders… knees and toes) before moving onto a song based on fingers and clapping. Twenty minutes later, a bucket of sweat (we were outdoors in 28C) we sat down and watched the entire school (less grade 1, 7 and 8) perform a dance routine. Not as bad day, but not something I am keen to repeat. As great and as enthusiastic as nursery/kindergarten schoolm children are, they’re too tiny.

This Sunday I am tempted by the Science Museum in Dongguan (for the dinosaur exhibition etc). We have to pass on the local comedy night due to our not-too-impressive-lack-of-Mandarin.

One for next month? This looks ace!!!! We’re expecting a long weekend too (so this is on our radar).

**written on Friday, published Sunday early hours**

Happy Mothering Sunday…