tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88360982915136922832024-03-13T13:27:14.861+09:00Ramblings from a RockA blog about travel, teaching ESL and living in the weird and wonderful countries of Vietnam, Saudi Arabia, Korea. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-65507508080743233142014-10-16T23:27:00.000+09:002014-10-16T23:27:18.534+09:00Guilt be Gone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I love my blog.<br />
I hate my blog. <br />
<br />
Today I realised something monumental about my blogging issues. Each post can be as big or small as I want, and I can post regularly or irregularly, it's up to me. The lack of boundaries poses a major problem. Being someone who relies wholly on goals, list fulfilling and timescales, I have recently been feeling continually guilty about my blog posts (or lack thereof). I haven't had much to say of late. Korea just doesn't make me angry enough to want to write about it. <br />
When I haven't blogged for a while it hangs over me, worse the longer I leave it. It's annoying.<br />
<br />
For the most part I enjoyed my blogging experience. It was fun to put stuff out there and tell of my funny experiences. Now I want to do other things.<br />
<br />
The problem is that this is not a finished piece of work, and never can be. I'm therefore stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of guilt! How can I let it go (or at least have a break) without it bugging me?<br />
I don't want to feel guilty. I want to be free to write something when I want. Or not. It's so different to creative writing, which has a tangible end, a time where I can stop. Having a break at the end of a draft doesn't feel like quitting. But stopping a blog really does. <br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-size: large;">Ahhhhh!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
I won't call this giving up, I'll call it "allowing myself to be happy in laying my blog to rest for a while."<br />
I may well change my mind and be back next week. Or not. Who knows? <br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: red;"><span>I <span style="background-color: orange;"><span>JUST <span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: yellow;">WANT <span style="background-color: lime;"><span>TO <span style="background-color: cyan;"><span>NOT <span style="background-color: blue;"><span>FEEL <span style="background-color: purple;"><span>GUILTY <span style="background-color: magenta;"><span>ABOUT <span style="background-color: red;"><span>ABANDONING <span style="background-color: orange;"><span>A <span style="background-color: yellow;"><span>PROJECT <span style="background-color: lime;"><span>!!!!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: red;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="background-color: lime;"><span><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span><span style="background-color: blue;"><span><span style="background-color: purple;"><span><span style="background-color: magenta;"><span><span style="background-color: red;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span><span style="background-color: lime;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: red;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="background-color: lime;"><span><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span><span style="background-color: blue;"><span><span style="background-color: purple;"><span><span style="background-color: magenta;"><span><span style="background-color: red;"><span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span><span style="background-color: lime;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>I am hereby cleansing my aura of guilt.<br />
<br />
No more.<br />
<br />
Screw it.<br />
<br />
I'm off to Bermuda!<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading. <br />
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Oh yeah, one last thing. I got my grades- a distinction for the dissertation and merit overall.<br />
I made it, I'm a Creative Writing Master! <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today I've been reflecting on my love/hate relationship with teaching children. They are so annoying but I would certainly miss them if I didn't work with them anymore. They mess around and fidget and fight. They tell the teacher on each other, <i>"Teacher Cunning!"</i> being their way of informing me that someone is cheating during a game. They pick their noses all the time. They don't listen, they argue and bicker and swing back on their chairs until they fall. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then there are the funny, quirky things. Like this morning, a boy took the stairs four at a time, stretching each leg out as far as it would possibly go, just for fun. Another boy "swam" across the floor to his team line. They laugh at my stupid jokes and are enthusiastic about games and stamps and winning. Boys and girls will scream and immediately stop arguing with each other if I ask if they are boy/girl friend (whilst making a heart shape with my hands). They emphatically inform me they are <i>bery bery bery hungry!</i> or moan when another student cuts the lunch line <i>Teacher, sejegae! </i>(bad spelling). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But my favourite thing about kids, the thing I would miss the most, is how happy and in the moment they are. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The other day we had a talent show. Being someone who only plays the piano in a shadowy, deserted room, I'm always amazed and delighted by the willingness of Korean kids to showcase their talents. They love to dance to K pop (with its wonderful set dance moves- so regimented, so Korean). They love to sing. Sometimes they play instruments and other times they act. I've seen all sorts, and naturally the ability ranges from wonderful to painful, but in my eyes the students who suck are to be more admired. To be able to stand up on stage in front of your whole school and sing a shaky, way-out-of -your-vocal-range rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from<i> Le Mis </i>is no easy task. Well done, I say! Seriously though, somewhere down the line I developed this idea that I would only do something if I was good at it, and even then sometimes I wouldn't want to. I love that these kids just go for it, whatever their ability. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This week's talent show was extra special because we had a surprise performance from the entire school, aka more than a hundred kids dancing in a regimented mass. It was amazing.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> How can I ever say my job is boring?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last week Lee and I went to the Asian Games, to watch a women's semi-finals cricket match between Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. It wasn't the most spectacular thing I've ever seen but nonetheless it was fun and I improved my (albeit almost non existent) cricket rule knowledge. The crowd was sparse to say the least, outnumbered by cameramen 2-1, meaning that we were filmed quite a lot and probably have now appeared on Bangladeshi prime time TV. It was a wonderfully sunny beer-filled day, so perfect that I even had a little snooze halfway through the game. Afterwards we walked around the stalls outside the main stadium, so Lee could play on the games and make new friends.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was tense, I can tell you</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Can you spot the boys in the crowd??</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Lee's big win</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In the moon</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Lee's buddy</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj22uLexQ8LXd2gSWrcXzCFAzcrI3BGmNC5Odx0gTIYDBFuJaIJh-Aw4skY4yho-7N5IQadvy2LNSyAcwf_8ueW3aTg4tTPify3-1X5_YVXrUxIkqO_n_lcO3iE_-Leb7BcI3sPPoPFtV/s1600/20140925_183417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj22uLexQ8LXd2gSWrcXzCFAzcrI3BGmNC5Odx0gTIYDBFuJaIJh-Aw4skY4yho-7N5IQadvy2LNSyAcwf_8ueW3aTg4tTPify3-1X5_YVXrUxIkqO_n_lcO3iE_-Leb7BcI3sPPoPFtV/s1600/20140925_183417.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A grand day out! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px !important;" /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-21228249921600236152014-09-18T20:23:00.000+09:002014-09-18T20:29:59.891+09:00A Break from Beyond the World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I finished my masters! Phewf. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the interests of sanity at the end there, I had to put blogging on the back burner. I promised myself when I started this blog that it would never become a stress or chore, and for that reason, there came a point during my dissertation where I had to let myself leave it alone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So here I am, returned!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The month of August was hard. I chugged away at my story, going through fazes of loving it, loathing it and feeling like it would never in a million years be ready or good enough. I wrote the essay, then had a sleepy epiphany that its focus was all wrong. I started again. I finally made it presentable whilst affirming what I already know, which is that academia is not my strength. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then last week I handed everything in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Everyone asked me if I felt relieved, if I felt free. But the truth is that I'm a writer, which means I'm never free, I'm never finished, I'm never 'off.' And this is certainly not the end of this particular writing expedition. I've only written the first third of <i>Jack Beyond the World</i>, so I have a lot to do. For starters, before I go on with the next chapter I want to go back and do the planning and world building that I didn't have time for during my masters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But not right now, not in September.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">September is a time for other things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For blogging and guiltless reading (I've finally started the Jack Reacher books). For jogging, cycling, watching films and hanging out drinking beer in the still-warm-enough evenings. For catching up with old friends and making new ones. For playing the piano and who knows, even picking up the ukulele again? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">September is a time for being free.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Bring it on! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-k2qy7iAj7It2n7QVI581fSY61ZL80xPCHXkv9SFEoZeEauaFQ-00iEx4mxZ03NITl8bvdMg9d_NR-ghSjx8S1X-Z0En3iBZPUlE_hnVJu2Of5fxK7fEAQbLcxtEla_E0HzxwC1Stg2Gf/s1600/20140915_135138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-k2qy7iAj7It2n7QVI581fSY61ZL80xPCHXkv9SFEoZeEauaFQ-00iEx4mxZ03NITl8bvdMg9d_NR-ghSjx8S1X-Z0En3iBZPUlE_hnVJu2Of5fxK7fEAQbLcxtEla_E0HzxwC1Stg2Gf/s1600/20140915_135138.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Looking most cool with my new bike along the nearby river</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-85502082070668525572014-08-06T23:18:00.001+09:002014-08-06T23:19:21.682+09:00Those Final, Happy, Holidaying Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It feels like a long time ago since we were in Brazil (so much has happened between then and now!) but I'm gonna do my best to relay the tale of what we got up to in those last few days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As if the climate knew of Brazil's impending doom in the world cup, the sky grew thick with clouds in the hours before the game, the heavens opening as Germany rained down the goals. For the next few days it was as if the weather were in mourning for it's country, and we had to make ourselves some new, rain-friendly plans. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was a random few days, with some things not working out at all as we'd thought they would.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We went to an art museum that had a Salvador Dali exhibition, choosing the small queue rather than the big one, because obviously "those people were there for something entirely different." We soon got into the part of the exhibition for which we had been waiting, to find it was a room made into a face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sometimes I hate art. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The botanical gardens were pretty spectacular. I enjoyed just wandering around being amazed by how truly cool nature is. The bored security guard in the orchid house also took some pictures of us in, under and around the orchids. Funny. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We went to a samba bar that we'd read good reviews about. It was quirky with old theatre artifacts on the walls and a lift exactly like the one on the Titanic, but unfortunately all the staff were rude, pretentious w*nkers. I'm sorry, I don't care how 'cool' the place is, if there's a bad atmosphere then I'd rather not bother. On a brighter note, we did meet some nice people to hang out with on the streets again! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Another day we got up early to go on a favela tour. This one had been recommended to us as being a good walking tour of one of the biggest favelas, led by a man (well, boy, really) who'd grown up there. We waited, hungry and thirsty for twenty minutes at the meeting point before he showed up. Then we got into his van. He talked to us for a little while then proceeded to have about a million conversations on his two phones, as if he were some sort of dealer. The driver, too, spent a lot of time on his phone. We stopped and waited twice more, then were told that the trip would be cut short due to traffic. Lee questioned the guy about his non-apologetic attitude to being late, which didn't go down too well, leading to a heated debate that ended in an ultimatum. The boy-man told us we could basically either shut up or get off the bus. So we got off the bus. Luckily we hadn't paid any of the overpriced cost. Finding ourselves at an unexpected loose end, we then went to the fort on the hill at the end of the beach, which apparently does a great brunch. After walking all the way up, we found out that the cafe is shut on Sundays. On the plus side we saw a great view and also the life size bear statues that were up at that end of the beach, each one decorated to represent a different country of the world. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We were so starving by that point that we ate a massively huge and disgusting inch-thick-cheese-with-no-tomato pizza, then felt so sick that we had to walk the length of the Copacabana just to begin to feel over it. There we sat drinking beer and perving on Ian Wright, Glen Hoddle and the rest of the ITV pundit gang. Good times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our absolute food highlight was visiting a churrascaria, aka Brazil's most famous dining experience. It had the best salad bar ever, which was just a side to the big slabs of beef being carried around by the waiters. You could choose which part of the cow you wanted, or have a different meat entirely. Lee left his cardboard circle on 'green' for a few minutes and looked like he was in heaven as the meat piled up on his plate from various sources. It was so good that we went again in Sao Paulo on our last night!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On the day of the final the weather brightened up and we joined the masses on the beach to watch the big screen. Apparently 100 thousand extra Argentinians drove to Rio over that weekend and the roads were lined with their camper vans. The beach was a sea of sky blue and white shirts. I've never seen so many tattoos in my life- I never knew it was so acceptable to have a footballer's face inked onto your shoulder blade... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We left the beach after the Germany goal, in an attempt to not get beaten up for originating from a country in the same continent as Germany. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then, after our final bout of partying on the street, it was time to leave. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And that, folks, is all. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-38160089791648024952014-07-12T05:22:00.000+09:002014-07-12T05:28:31.528+09:00Rio, Rio, Rio!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A city I have wanted to visit for so long has not disappointed me. It feels like we've been here for ages and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do justice to the things we've seen and done, but I'll give it a go.<br />
We've been staying in a gated community for Brazilians, which despite being noisy has allowed us the opportunity to speak to the local kids. On arrival we were pleasantly surprised at being given the only room with a private bathroom.<br />
The football has gone by in a haze of beer and shouting at a big screen; a blur of excitement and being whipped up with the crowds, and the inevitable desperate disappointment. I can't say 7-1 wasn't a bit of a kick in the teeth. We were at the Fan Fest on the beach at the time, and everyone just started leaving. Bloody Germany! (Although now I'm rooting for them in the face of the alternative- I don't think the Brazilian population will cope well if Argentina win the world cup). I've finally plucked up the courage to wear my England shirt and even joined in with some boys one evening in a rendition of "I'm England till I die..."<br />
We travelled in a van up the tiny winding road to Christ the Redeemer, and had a perfectly clear sky for the view. The next day we took cable cars up to Sugar Loaf Mountain, which to me was even more impressive. We sat for ages on a bench (and made friends with a little monkey) entranced by the view. There's something truly beautiful about this city; the mix of trees and mountains with skyscrapers, the shiny buildings interspersed with grotty.<br />
Without realising it, we managed to rent a place right in the popular area of Lapa, famous for its white arches that run across the main street, and its serious night life. The place gets so busy that people can't even get into the bars, instead drinking in crowds on the street, drinking caiprinhas from vendors. We've met so many people, listened to so much live samba and drums, the only downside being that the place often stinks of p*ss.<br />
As with Sao Paulo, in Rio it's impossible to ignore the massive problem of homelessness, and the scariness of many people's complete lack of acknowledgement for the desperate circumstances others are in. One situation that stands out in my head is when a group of heavily armed police laughed at and mimicked a man walking past, dirty and barefoot. The sad thing is that it can be scary and sometimes threatening to be approached by someone asking for money, and often helping one person leads to having ten more come your way. I did get a bit unnerved one day when Lee gave money to a boy, to which many more then came running, grabbing at the notes Lee held out, fighting with each other over it, or crying desperately because they didn't get any. I hope that this holiday has taught me to be kinder and not to ignore the suffering of others with some justification that it's not my problem. <br />
I've seen more police here than ever before in one place. They are mostly military police, armed to the absolute teeth with body armor, batons and guns. We even saw a man jogging up to Christ the Redeemer holding a machine gun! To which the driver said, "He's a policeman" as if that would reassure us.<br />
We've discovered so many gems in this city. It's easy to walk past the ugly as hell cone building in the centre of town that resembles an industrial chimney, missing the beautiful cathedral it is on the inside. We discovered the Escadaria Selaron steps which are brightly tiled with pictures representing countries from around the world, from the ground all the way up to the monastery at the top. We walked across the disused railway line that runs across the white arches of Lapa. We visited three different beaches and discovered hidden roads, restaurants and random markets. We've gone swimming in our underwear and even jumped the waves next to David James!<br />
As I said, it's hard to do it justice in writing. Hopefully the pictures will do a better job.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-48138752634688914232014-07-04T08:55:00.001+09:002014-07-04T08:55:46.035+09:00Sao Paulo and Football Mania<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So what's been going on? My week in Sao Paulo was one of more football than I ever thought I could stomach. We spent a lot of time at the Fan Fest area in the centre of the city with a huge screen and masses of dressed up and face painted fans from all over the world. </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Seriously, I might not find such a mix of people during the haj in Mecca<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>. Funny how
religion and football can be so easily compared- there are definitely a fair few people here at the world cup who worship their team and bow down to their players. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span>For the first time
ever I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>got to experience what itās like to win a penalty shoot out- as an honourary Brazilian. I was even mistaken for a Brazilian girl so I was pretty happy with that! Iāve also fallen in love with the entire Costa Rican team (Greece- Costa Rica, amazing game), comiserated crying Mexicans and had my head
squished between two crazy celebrating Argentinians.</span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melting into the crowd??</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lees new Brazilian buddy</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But enough about football,
what of Sao Paulo? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Itās been an exciting and sometimes scary place to explore,
which I think would be made much easier by knowing someone in the city to show
you around. We arrived in the evening and got a taxi to our slightly out of town 'love hotel' (it was cheap, OK?!), feeling a bit too edgy to venture out into the surrounding quiet streets that night. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It soon became clear that we've been become so accustomed to visiting countries that speak English well that we forgot that perhaps learning some of the native language might be useful. Hence the overuse of the word <i>obrigado!</i> in answer to everything. Oh the ignorant English, *shudders of embarrassment*. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On our first day we went to one of south Americas largest city parks, Ibirapuera, where you can see the skyline of Sao Paulo in all its glory in the background. At the park we drank coconut water and cycled around the lake, admiring the vast variety of big trees. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVkjd6zO_cp7KXZxZqAo9ILoSFShvkpOkGYKlwfHhkyr6cOX0TiXgDyOfSoRzELd9bnOUIhZ9QGR376BTeIkimCRV8M70HPMSWVS3GGooBoXoLrdIVfOVBcrjf6znDXMqOG03JaohVhDU/s1600/P1000069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVkjd6zO_cp7KXZxZqAo9ILoSFShvkpOkGYKlwfHhkyr6cOX0TiXgDyOfSoRzELd9bnOUIhZ9QGR376BTeIkimCRV8M70HPMSWVS3GGooBoXoLrdIVfOVBcrjf6znDXMqOG03JaohVhDU/s1600/P1000069.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUP0gTBKdBevBKzsQs_DDOBFJDKIDwHA8HHHhVd3SfBfVlabavkbuofJ2NJrPDaBURu2fjQMFRmQ3Kj_tCRC9BNrrPc59N_LdLBfZxpm32upbv_Z6T2jxZ8ZRmedBvwq4ZtA03b-jZq8NK/s1600/P1000075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUP0gTBKdBevBKzsQs_DDOBFJDKIDwHA8HHHhVd3SfBfVlabavkbuofJ2NJrPDaBURu2fjQMFRmQ3Kj_tCRC9BNrrPc59N_LdLBfZxpm32upbv_Z6T2jxZ8ZRmedBvwq4ZtA03b-jZq8NK/s1600/P1000075.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In between the many football games, we've trekked the good, the bad and the downright ugly (or should I say scary) streets, taking in the sights and visiting a random selection of bars and restaurants. We've uncovered the joy of the 'weigh your plate' buffet dinner, which I think should have the tag line- "A balancing act between piling your plate as high as you truthfully want to and facing the shame of taking it to the lady to weigh it." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After reading bad reviews about the hotel we've booked for our last night in Brazil, we decided to go and check the area out in advance. I'm so glad we did, as even in broad daylight I've never felt so uneasy! It was a street lined with motorbikes in various levels of disrepair and cluster after cluster of men just hanging around, with a spattering of police vans and prostitutes. Needless to say we're not gonna bother staying there. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We walked around the large business district of Paulista, where people in suits bustle around importantly. We had wine at the Skye Bar, a luxurious rooftop bar on top of a boat shaped building, with amazing views of the city. The menu was actually reasonably priced, except for a bottle of Rockafella white wine which was over a thousand quid, for goodness sake! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Both Lee and I felt that the rich side of Sao Paulo was a little hard to enjoy, when there is so much poverty in the city. At night, homeless people line the
doorways of the city centre and huddle in sleeping groups outside the cathedral. This city is certainly the worst place we've been to in terms of the gap between rich and poor. It saddens me to know that I live in a world like this, where people- including me- enjoy nice wine and nice food while other people starve. It's madness. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkFF196_Xx86R2PGcTFpsk3iqW-5tb_YqdIwCnXfNo4Lf2oLoWm3vobozVtrzzF7qCqF-1PactVSou-z-czp_hZteC3ZeGEGp4_gNhhhSM1Y2hUvrPE9eJR4HfpeeJ54Jb8dSBb7Z2pZc/s1600/P1000093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkFF196_Xx86R2PGcTFpsk3iqW-5tb_YqdIwCnXfNo4Lf2oLoWm3vobozVtrzzF7qCqF-1PactVSou-z-czp_hZteC3ZeGEGp4_gNhhhSM1Y2hUvrPE9eJR4HfpeeJ54Jb8dSBb7Z2pZc/s1600/P1000093.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cathedral of Sao Paulo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1MYvx7pIwp-uNk0jq-N6DAdaBxTwr7eysSF31ApirCGGEmmIL2siW-ii1pC2hfQjxMUQHGIk46bbxvlFkFfYHvxlUpnqjD1h-KafipQP1jKJR5BeEy9DA7Q8A8SE5HPjWgJrZwyRqW6N/s1600/P1000410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1MYvx7pIwp-uNk0jq-N6DAdaBxTwr7eysSF31ApirCGGEmmIL2siW-ii1pC2hfQjxMUQHGIk46bbxvlFkFfYHvxlUpnqjD1h-KafipQP1jKJR5BeEy9DA7Q8A8SE5HPjWgJrZwyRqW6N/s1600/P1000410.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The luxurious Skye bar. Unfortunately we're still working out how to use our camera so the pictures from the top weren't very good. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, after a rather terrifying six hour bus ride with a mad driver intent on bullying every other vehicle on the road and overtaking everything in sight, we've arrived in Rio. But more about that later! </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4af7Fo4kcJQ2U7Tih2yz61cT8Ka3rgzKs42psxcV9RvZJdoy3l1vXiqJDnJoC8lw1Fo47OyeDTJ3XnaFwrEzepeTyjxRWCVl7a63WLDczwT7Uvw0cV6vmE6sm7Wu-ViYMMGeXk-XkTPN/s1600/P1000347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4af7Fo4kcJQ2U7Tih2yz61cT8Ka3rgzKs42psxcV9RvZJdoy3l1vXiqJDnJoC8lw1Fo47OyeDTJ3XnaFwrEzepeTyjxRWCVl7a63WLDczwT7Uvw0cV6vmE6sm7Wu-ViYMMGeXk-XkTPN/s1600/P1000347.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What would a blog about Brazil be without a little graffiti?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-3928436119502460972014-06-23T20:30:00.003+09:002014-06-23T20:35:45.899+09:00Oh the Agony!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
*Warning* This post is somewhat football heavy.<br />
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Part of being an England fan means being all too aware that the world cup will be a tense and sick-inducing time. We always start with the hope that somehow we are magically better than we are, followed by praying that we can scrape through a game on sheer luck. And finally the all too inevitable demise, probably involving penalties. Not to be a pessimist or anything, it's just we all know that the famous year of 1966 is getting further and further away into the past. I remember the first time I got into watching football- It was 1996 and I was 12. England got to the semi-finals of the Euros, getting beaten by Germany on penalties. I couldn't believe it. I thought that if I wanted it enough then we would win. That was my introduction to the pain and anguish of what it means to be an England fan. And we haven't got that far in a major tournament since.<br />
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Here is a little snapshot of the English desperation, as early as the first game. Lovely. <br />
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I knew that buying a ticket to Brazil for after the group stages was a heck of a gamble where England are concerned, but to flop out in this pathetic manner-the first time we've been knocked out in the group stages since 1958, and the earliest we've been knocked out <i>ever- </i>feels like a personal insult! It wasn't what we had in mind when we imagined getting on the plane, but hey ho. Needless to say I'm leaving my England shirts at home. What we have to remember is that we're still going to party in Rio in the lead up to the final, which is hard to feel bad about. I'm now an honorary South Korea fan- it's nice to feel some closeness with another team, to at least have a decent reason as to why you're supporting them. Alas, after last nights result against Algeria, I fear for them too.<br />
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ANYWAY, enough about that. In much more positive news, my sister got married last week. It was a perfect English wedding: beautiful setting by a river, beautiful bride, nice weather we never thought we'd get, lots of drink, food, cake, dancing and of course the dodgy speeches! One of my favourite parts of the day was when the high heeled 'single ladies' battled it out to catch the bouquet. What a tradition!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGB5rH36oprwOSB76gpIit21jsSV9HLtaWXMUGwtDv1dX3na4-4PBkBQaHVrcCQkmpGSmo5NP0n2yCf9owuuHPGpz4LUYaCSqY6L0_06NaUslZs1BQOkroC79aHGeb9iwGCBpIj4osYakj/s1600/Susie+and+wayne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGB5rH36oprwOSB76gpIit21jsSV9HLtaWXMUGwtDv1dX3na4-4PBkBQaHVrcCQkmpGSmo5NP0n2yCf9owuuHPGpz4LUYaCSqY6L0_06NaUslZs1BQOkroC79aHGeb9iwGCBpIj4osYakj/s1600/Susie+and+wayne.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Congrats you guys!</td></tr>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-51639918920888299092014-06-11T04:57:00.003+09:002014-06-11T04:59:32.773+09:00Thirty and in Dirty Blackpool<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As usual, the act of being at home has rendered me terribly busy! I've been here, there and everywhere, seeing people, catching up and of course eating and drinking too much. Oh yes, and all that on top of bashing out a 60,000 word first draft of a story in preparation for my dissertation. It's amazing how a pen can run away with itself!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My 30th birthday was a momentous occasion, and I must say I'm feeling completely older and wiser now. Ha. I've been thinking about everything that happened in the decade that was my 20s. At the beginning of it I was in my second year at university and working at pizza hut. By the end of it I'd had 16 other jobs spanning six different countries, as well as in four different cities in England. I got married. I became an aunty (three times!). I visited lots of wonderful places and met countless wonderful people. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yes, my 30s have got a lot to live up to, but I feel sure they're up to the challenge!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />Last weekend was my sister's hen night in sunny Blackpool. As is obligatory in these sorts of situations, we were drinking by 10am on the bus and arrived to overcast skies and heavy rain to drink some more. She had the full fluffy pink works including everything there is that is 'willy' (willy lollipops, willy whistles, willy straws, you name it). We headed out to a transvestite show, which I have to say showcased Blackpool's absolute finest. That sounds sarcastic, but it's really not. In it's heyday Blackpool was the place to go: ballroom dancing in the the tower, shows, fair rides on the pier and donkey rides on the sandy beach. Unfortunately with the decline of the British seaside holiday (which the crappy weather is largely to blame for), Blackpool seems to now have a sign at the gates saying 'hen and stag dos only.' The result is a load of dirty people being loud and getting paralytic. I saw a fair few collapsed people and ambulances by the time the night was over. Not to mention the fact that Blackpool is known for having a pretty down-and-out populace. 'Funny Girls,' however, was wonderful. Set in a proper theatre, it included tap dancing, ballroom dancing and acrobatics. There were tributes to Michael Jackson and the Spice Girls, and even an amusing montage from The Sound of Music! Despite being up on the balcony I went to order at the downstairs bar, simply to get a closer look at the trannies serving the drinks there. They were amazing! What struck me was the difference between the Dame Edna-esque trannies of Blackpool and the lady boys of south east Asia. The hugely tall compared to short, the larger than life wigs compared to glossy home grown hair, the stuffed bras compared to the real fake boobies, the gruff voices and stubbly chins compared to the high pitched girly laughs and baby soft cheeks. The adams apples compared to the lack thereof. The transvestites compared to the transsexuals. The list goes on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of my favourite parts of the evening was wondering what the 80 year old woman in the booth next to us thought of it all... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">All in all I have to say Blackpool proved itself as a right laugh-if a bit of a dive. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hens out in the sun (if you ask me 7pm is way to early for this sort of thing!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tranny Sound of Music aka 'Rachel's highlight.' Terrible picture but hey...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's really quite pretty when you look at it this way</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hoping to be back a little sooner next time. But in the words of the north, I'll say turrah for now!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-51768610612283812472014-05-23T01:20:00.000+09:002014-06-11T04:59:57.517+09:00Travel, study, pack, enjoy!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At the moment it seems that life leaves little or no space for blogging. In the last couple of weeks in Korea I was finishing three pieces of work for my research methods module and packing up our flat (annoying as we're going back but weren't allowed to keep the room). The packing really put into perspective how much stuff we humans accumulate in life. Just six months of being in Korea resulted in boxes and boxes of stuff to leave there for the summer! You have to wonder where it all comes from and why we really need it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We stopped off in Amsterdam on the way back, but not without hitch. One of the things I'm beginning to realise about travelling so often is that it results in fairly frequent (and expensive) f*ck ups.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So here's the story:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our boss booked the ticket through a travel agent, with a change in Amsterdam on the way to Birmingham International. After deciding we wanted to stay in Amsterdam for a couple of days, we phoned KLM to change the second ticket, but they said only the travel agent could change it. We couldn't get in contact with the travel agent, so we bought another ticket instead, with another airline.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At Seoul airport we were told it was against the conditions of the (first) ticket to pick up our bags halfway through the journey, therefore our bags would be sent through to Birmingham, despite us not wanting them to. Pretty annoying when the journey has been paid for twice! The robotic 'customer handling agent' refused to do anything about it, but said maybe in Amsterdam we would be able to stop our bags.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">11 hours later, at Amsterdam airport...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We were told it was impossible to give us our bags, but if we didn't board the plane then our bags would be offloaded and held until we paid the release fee of 275 euros per bag. Which was obviously insane, not to mention more money than buying a new flight. So we bought a new flight. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We went back to Birmingham and left one bag in the lockers there. The wait time for the flight was four hours, which we spent mainly in the airport bar. This resulted in us drinking too much and (Lee) telling far too many people that we were on our way to Amsterdam, "but had already been there once today."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What a crazy world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amsterdam was, of course, wonderful, and I hold out hope that we'll be able to live there one day, when we make our millions. I love the bikes, the canals, the friendliness, the relaxed atmosphere. I love the cafes and the red light district. I love that every bar has a resident cat! We went to Anne Frank's House, which was interesting, being something I've known about and seen pictures of for as long as I can remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And now, once again, we're home. It always feels so strange in that all the waiting and missing everyone fades to a distant memory, as we seamlessly slot back in. As always, it's like we were never away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This
summer is set to be busy and extremely fun. Plans include meeting two very important babies,
going to a very important wedding, writing a very important
dissertation, clearing out my very important (not really) stuff, helping my parents with their
very important move to Kent, and going to Brazil for the all important
World Cup!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And now I'll leave you with a picture of dear Coventry on a lovely sunny afternoon. It's not all bad here! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The atmosphere here in Korea continues to be a somber one, in the wake of the sunken ferry Sewol. Our camp has been affected by the government's decision to tell schools to cancel all field trips for the rest of the semester. Within a week of the accident 80% of the school groups had cancelled, rendering the corridors, classrooms and open spaces here eerily quiet. The impact of this is that some Korean staff are not having their contracts renewed, and all the hourly paid workers-maintenance, catering, shop assistants, counsellors- are out of a job until things pick up again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On the one hand it's an extreme measure, on the other I can't blame the government, schools or parents for wanting to safeguard their children after such a tragedy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Out of the 325 students who went on the trip from the school in Ansan, only 75 survived. Most of the survivors are still in hospital with many students receiving psychiatric treatment. It's hard to even begin to imagine what survivors, family and friends are going through right now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There's been a lot of discussion and anger about the failure of adults both on and off the boat to respond to the disaster as it was happening. The image I keep getting in my head is of all these obedient children waiting in their cabins whilst the adults failed to rescue them. There have been some arguments blaming the Confucianist values of Korean society, the values that mean young people respect their elders and do what they're told. I don't think it's fair to say the children would've escaped on their own had they not been Korean, but I still can't shake the feeling that the questionless conformity that exists here may have played a part. Funny really that this was the subject of my last blog before the disaster. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In more tragic news, last night I read about the horrific incident in a Leeds secondary school in which a teacher has been stabbed to death by a student, in front of her entire class. I can't even begin to process the implications of this, our first teacher to be murdered inside a British school. I just don't understand how a fifteen year old with a grudge could feel justified or indeed have the guts to take a kitchen knife to school, walk up to his teacher in the middle of class and stab her repeatedly in the neck as she tried to get away. It blows my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Apologies for being full of the joys of spring today. What strikes me about these two awful incidents is that in a way they represent polar opposites. The first shows a failure of adults to help students who trusted them, the other shows a teenager's complete lack of regard for a teacher's life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I would like to live in a society somewhere in between Korean and English cultures, but I honestly don't think it exists. Here we have babies sent to the orphanage if their mothers are unwed; at home we have a welfare state that encourages young mothers to pretend they are single so they can get maximum benefits. More and more I am realising there is no middle ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To end on a (much needed) lighter note, last week I taught a magic class, in which I wowed and amazed a class of 11. One of the high points was a trick in which I put a paper woman into an envelope, cut her in half and then put her back together again. Sometimes I have these out of body experiences where I look at what I'm doing in class at this school and think- huh, is this really my life? Am I really 'teaching'? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then there was mind reading trick. The English level in my class was pretty low so I carefully selected the kid I thought could handle it. I told him a few times (with elaborate actions) to write his favourite animal on a piece of paper. When he finally understood, he slowly and meticulously wrote a word that I swear must have been at least ten characters long. I then asked him to show it to the other students... this also took what seemed like a lifetime. Then I told him to write five other animals on the other pieces of paper. He said, <em>Ney?</em> (Korean for 'Yes' but often also means 'what the heck are you talking about?'). I repeated the command several times in as many ways as I could and as simply as I could until finally he said 'Ah!' and nodding his head enthusiasticly, he got to work on writing down the other five animals. As you can imagine this process was also a long one. Eventually, I heard those magic words- <em>teacher finished!</em> I took the papers off him, ready to perform my magic. The audience waited with bated breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I looked at the first piece paper. PIG. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This was going to be fun, I just hoped I could pull it off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then the second one- PIG. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh no. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">PIG </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">PIG </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">PIG </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">PIG. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Abracadabrah- so I guess your favourite animal's a pig then? </span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And that, my friends, is what we call an ESL teaching fail. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <em>P.S If you feel like looking at the first chapter of my dissertation story, you can read it </em></span><a href="http://storystuff1984.blogspot.kr/2014/04/chapter-1-draft.html" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">here</span></em></a><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">. Any thoughts, comments or criticisms would be greatly appreciated!</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-56269382792861639652014-04-18T22:59:00.002+09:002014-04-18T23:20:08.967+09:00As Tragedy Unfolds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I felt today that I needed to write about the thing that's been at the forefront of my mind for the last couple of days. It's not a happy topic by any means, but right now a necessary one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As the families of the passengers on board the now sunk ferry wait to find out if there are any more survivors, I feel like I am waiting with them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The story has made international news at home and in the US, but in case you don't know, a ferry carrying 459 passengers, travelling from Seoul to Jeju Island in South Korea, sank on Wednesday. The majority of the people on board the Sewol were high school students on a field trip. Reports are inconclusive right now as to what happened exactly but they think either the boat hit a rock, or turned too quickly causing cargo to shift to one side. Either way, the boat fell on its side and then later capsized. As of this moment 25 are confirmed dead and 280 are missing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've been reading all the updates and the tale that is unravelling just seems to be getting worse and worse. Of course it gets worse by the minute in that the likelihood of finding survivors is becoming less and less likely. But there are so many other things too. The weather and sea currents are so bad that the rescue mission is almost impossible. In fact three divers went missing at one point but thankfully were later found. In the official statement released by the parents, they say that they were at first informed that all the passengers had gotten off the ferry and that they should go to pick them up. When they got there, of course they found the reality to be entirely different. Some parents apparently went out in their own boat with private divers to try and help, but had to turn back due to several of them fainting from distress. I can only begin to imagine how distraught they all must be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Police are now requesting an arrest warrant for the captain who abandoned ship rather than trying to help his passengers. Aside from the fact that it's against sea law for a captain to do that, it's difficult to get your head round how he could've left all those children and saved himself. I can't pretend to know I would be brave in that situation, but I like to think I would try and do what I could to help. There are reports coming out now about adults who died doing just that, and I hope they will be remembered forever by those people who were saved. The captain has released a short statement saying he's 'deeply ashamed and so sorry.' I think it would be easy to blame him for what happened and to condemn him for what he didn't do, but at the same time I have no idea if I would be able to act in a different or better way if I were in the same situation. The vice principal of the school was rescued but has now been found to have hung himself, near the gym where all the parents are waiting. I think this shows the extent of guilt any adults survivors must be feeling at this time. Whether we believe what they did was right or wrong, it's definitely fair to say they've been through something terrible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What really gets to me is that unlike a plane crash, there was a window of opportunity in which many more people could have been saved. They ferry was only 25km off the coast of Korea, and there were fishing boats nearby that quickly picked up people in the water. Reports have said that passengers were told to 'stay where they were' and then never actually instructed on how or when to try and escape. And then it was too late. It's so angering. I know it's generally not advised to jump into freezing cold water, but I think a lot more people would've had more of a chance than they do now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Anyway, apologies for such a depressing post, I just wanted to say something about it. And now all I can do- along with the families, the people of Korea and the rest of the world- is put my trust in the rescuers, wait and hope for a miracle. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-29933858290913598312014-04-08T23:18:00.000+09:002014-04-08T23:18:18.299+09:00Questionless Conformity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The trouble with working in Korea is that it lulls you into a false sense of security in terms of your classroom management skills. The students are generally so well behaved it borders on scary. They are also easily controlled due to their love of doing things en-mass. For example, if you say "be!" to a group of Korean kids they will respond with "quiet!" before shutting up completely.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">We often have over 100 students together, and so we adopt this simple crowd control technique to get them to stop talking and listen. It goes a little something like this:</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Teacher: "clap 1 time!"</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><i>Students clap once</i>. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Teacher: "clap two times!"</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><i>Students clap twice</i>.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Teacher: "clap 3 times!"</span></b><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Students clap three times and then (as if adhering to an unwritten code) put their hands on their heads and are quiet. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">They all do it, everyone one of them. To not do it would to be not Korean. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Last week I was in a group activity and the kids were being pretty loud. My colleague decided to make them clap once, clap twice, clap three times. Then they sat there in silence, hands on their heads until she-like a drill sergeant- shouted "3!" again. They clapped three times in absolute unison before putting their hands back on their heads. My colleague sternly surveyed the obedient crowd before once again demanding loudly "3!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">This went on for a while, the students sitting their with their hands on their heads, waiting to be commanded to repeat the procedure. It was weird. Sure, it's nice to have such obedient children, but the likeness to robots is sometimes a bit much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">When I left Korea the first time I took 'clap three times' with me, and remember being a bit put out by my European and Saudi students' reaction to it. As in "teacher, what they hell are you doing?" My seven year old Saudi boys would just look confused and then shrug at each other. The concept was even lost on the Japanese students we taught here a few weeks ago. Interesting as they share many similar 'passive and obedient' traits to their far eastern neighbours, but not this one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I'm aware that the film<i> Frozen</i> has become something of a worldwide phenomenon. I like it. I get it. I've even been practicing some of the piano music. But to like it is not enough here in Korea. Much like their obsession with soju (they've single-handedly made it the worlds most purchased alcoholic drink), the nation has been struck with <i>Frozen</i> mania. Actually, it's more pinpointed than that: it's "Let it Go" mania. The kids sing it in the corridors, they sing it in the classroom, they sing it on their own or as a class choir. In our fashion show they insist on dressing the girl as Elsa, and the boy as Anna (to which he never objects) before parading down the catwalk to the song. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">And on top of all this, I've heard it in so many bars I've lost count. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I sometimes feel like a switch on the motherboard was at some point flicked to "you will love this song with your very being."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Sorry Korea, you know I love you but sometimes you are too creepy! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In the spirit of
things, I'll leave you with an excellent rendition of "Let it Go," sung
by an impressionist as various different Disney characters.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-81802127539042308002014-03-29T01:22:00.002+09:002014-04-05T10:14:09.832+09:00The Madness of Masters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since starting back on my MA last October I've found myself spending a lot of time feeling guilty about not blogging, but not having enough inspiration or drive to get a post done. The fact is, since I began this blog it's been an outlet for my writing, but I guess since I've been studying again I've been spending my brain power on that instead. Also it doesn't help that because of the time difference, my online class takes place from 3am-6am once a week. I'm not really a night owl at the best of times and this absolute invasion of my usual regular sleeping pattern is offensive and brutal, and definitely f*cks me up for the next couple of days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last semester I had to frantically try to plough my way through books that I had little interest in, purely for the sake of being able to put them in my bibliography and then pretend that they inspired my work. You can see how much I 'enjoyed' reading those books on my review blog <a href="http://ramblingreview.blogspot.kr/2014/02/a-blast-of-ma-book-reviews.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I really and truly hate reading fiction simply because I have to. Come to that, I hate reading a story simply because someone else says I should, or because it's deemed a 'classic.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My Research Methods module is currently in full swing, and will later lead into the dissertation. I'm so excited to be working on the story I've been creating for a while now: my fantasy story for children, which all started from a map. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB7LKfCzwmqu0U3zjWXM_im6jpiI8oEFFbkdK5JVgWyRPuEP_CgejWjS3tF_NbjXXkQWua6sWnNgPUpdwOYzGUxVTA9Ga_qH2HRFcDJjOc9AMzsS12giaIjXnvlEIFD0sLPZcaJHFhYhwT/s1600/The+Map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB7LKfCzwmqu0U3zjWXM_im6jpiI8oEFFbkdK5JVgWyRPuEP_CgejWjS3tF_NbjXXkQWua6sWnNgPUpdwOYzGUxVTA9Ga_qH2HRFcDJjOc9AMzsS12giaIjXnvlEIFD0sLPZcaJHFhYhwT/s1600/The+Map.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm devoting my time to developing characters, creating communities and coming up with a weird and fun plot, and it all counts towards my masters! This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I chose a creative writing MA rather than a sensible one such as teaching. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And as if the fun of what I'm working on isn't enough, the research makes it even better. My research has consisted so far of taking notes on handbooks about writing for children, devouring numerous children's books and watching films. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then last week my tutor recommended a way in which to research the development of fantasy worlds: she said I should look at computer games. As a result </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm currently waiting for World of Warcraft to download on my computer. I don't mind telling you I'm a bit nervous. Nervous to suck at it and be outcast from taking part in quests, as veterans (or gaming nerds-call them what you will) worldwide see me for the fraud I am. Nervous to get killed in the first five minutes, and most worryingly of all, nervous to get addicted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So that's it. If you never see another blog post here you'll know why. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgzEn_4RiuRAjNAQlPYrX1fOn6cTMoRY0ykBZhQ3xeYewVyafKosddSgxC3v8quuAdQwZLmsnMPssTgeSZdaPQ0_X92kiQKQKaM-r7KnZ7dF4vKMtrWd-_de3bT3vLeax88FRgRji05VnSdmGxIRhKEciqLoq6QJBMQJ5z4OoTgPbSiXCxo9WCoz_EyvE66XvqfA8w=" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgzEn_4RiuRAjNAQlPYrX1fOn6cTMoRY0ykBZhQ3xeYewVyafKosddSgxC3v8quuAdQwZLmsnMPssTgeSZdaPQ0_X92kiQKQKaM-r7KnZ7dF4vKMtrWd-_de3bT3vLeax88FRgRji05VnSdmGxIRhKEciqLoq6QJBMQJ5z4OoTgPbSiXCxo9WCoz_EyvE66XvqfA8w=" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">A couple of weeks ago we were kindly invited by a friend to stay with her in Jeju Island.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The centrepiece of the island is Korea's largest mountain: a snow capped inactive volcano that erupted a very, very long time ago (yes, that's as accurate as my geography-history is going to get today), creating the rock formations that make up the lay of the land today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">But before we could begin all the cultured sightseeing, we had to get one job out of the way: an entirely necessary trip to Jeju's famous Love Museum!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBPf9uUzOZi__l1_d3r3tldI3Qv4jXhpvrNzIg_WCtW65mlSoRSVOncXaULLsfLCKelm8yI_OCJLs4fqTd93P5MX4V0WCQwrq4Mob5iHZ_tz3NvmkcIw0d9uWHkbmZ3NdQAIixhBgt1N-/s1600/20140306_185119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBPf9uUzOZi__l1_d3r3tldI3Qv4jXhpvrNzIg_WCtW65mlSoRSVOncXaULLsfLCKelm8yI_OCJLs4fqTd93P5MX4V0WCQwrq4Mob5iHZ_tz3NvmkcIw0d9uWHkbmZ3NdQAIixhBgt1N-/s1600/20140306_185119.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Needless to say it was an entertaining experience. I particularly liked the small and notably loveless 'Kids Land' outside the entrance to the museum- a depressing indoor play area for people to deposit their kids before going off to enjoy themselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">And now- allowing the photos to speak for themselves- back to an entirely different type of au naturel... </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rock walk around the cliff</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YlRwQ_cdul-diT9yNWe1jR7O1vZBsgthz16w5qy4C9FL8YaPzoRUXuSEw27iFfgUKJ1_J1IQOQzgXpcMkVoWBajd0_ztxpVEus0w56VUbKn03A10eLatTD1F1JzLzuTBIZ93_Ty5dma9/s1600/20140307_125218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YlRwQ_cdul-diT9yNWe1jR7O1vZBsgthz16w5qy4C9FL8YaPzoRUXuSEw27iFfgUKJ1_J1IQOQzgXpcMkVoWBajd0_ztxpVEus0w56VUbKn03A10eLatTD1F1JzLzuTBIZ93_Ty5dma9/s1600/20140307_125218.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hole in the wall</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwXzMbsEmymNF45pB4dZ5OW3LoZOIcsi2n33GlKq3O_aTt0IWsAcJmjOn-o0eXaeb3qhbKcv1EFpM6NozFEkhDxVpyHxP8ruXc6DheUca6RxFYxos5dhrFBmhvd_HlKvK-3CmuvyJeuIW/s1600/20140307_135949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwXzMbsEmymNF45pB4dZ5OW3LoZOIcsi2n33GlKq3O_aTt0IWsAcJmjOn-o0eXaeb3qhbKcv1EFpM6NozFEkhDxVpyHxP8ruXc6DheUca6RxFYxos5dhrFBmhvd_HlKvK-3CmuvyJeuIW/s1600/20140307_135949.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The view from the posh live-jazz-in-the-middle-of-the-day hotel we nosed around</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExr4sLgP2XyXgmO8eaCFluvtE_3AFchpS-OTZT2z5sykFeq3fz1UNE5JlRGP4J5TiDOW0LggNtPPYYWHcpQkFIXIzW10Bj2J1ead6dRhDYLA_QMRgOTmExxnLcIyu4EopFXSOiE2pcNAE/s1600/20140308_124231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExr4sLgP2XyXgmO8eaCFluvtE_3AFchpS-OTZT2z5sykFeq3fz1UNE5JlRGP4J5TiDOW0LggNtPPYYWHcpQkFIXIzW10Bj2J1ead6dRhDYLA_QMRgOTmExxnLcIyu4EopFXSOiE2pcNAE/s1600/20140308_124231.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Indulging my Alice in Wonderland side at a maze</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmAbAt1U8qqrb-PdS5VnHwET_ks5LUFczyGYWIoguT99zg0NC9FoccJM36c30px79C-Kc0GXOfxNdKZKrfYDfHEN2dt4lGwdorqF0tZE3pzEp1XJbtz5UbrWzkRLJ-GbEmtHDldcwaIza/s1600/20140308_133320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmAbAt1U8qqrb-PdS5VnHwET_ks5LUFczyGYWIoguT99zg0NC9FoccJM36c30px79C-Kc0GXOfxNdKZKrfYDfHEN2dt4lGwdorqF0tZE3pzEp1XJbtz5UbrWzkRLJ-GbEmtHDldcwaIza/s1600/20140308_133320.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The 1km long lava cave. It was so tranquil in here, the only sound the atmospheric drip dipping of water from the ceiling</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAr-Ekn3bDZnaWyVSre8etJ6R1CAqQxKmOrwVDo6FT1dW3sgZJvBxxKlzAWbJsi-Y7x1nrtWolnCfqswETZBnzdJKkgKJii3isTB7fSa19gpnRJsYxlfcOViLLKa5aOW2bMln3ke4QaPr/s1600/20140308_160932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAr-Ekn3bDZnaWyVSre8etJ6R1CAqQxKmOrwVDo6FT1dW3sgZJvBxxKlzAWbJsi-Y7x1nrtWolnCfqswETZBnzdJKkgKJii3isTB7fSa19gpnRJsYxlfcOViLLKa5aOW2bMln3ke4QaPr/s1600/20140308_160932.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">About to climb the crater</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgaVTgFkcmsrqKi9LsLiDF5Tsqp9rIS0m2ASk022JSDJvWU35lV7VGv5GrWaCIEif7xziWgU3THYFt8R5ldm3v0NdZ2sMwzn49nD0J7q_HpZ9QFI46O88xq7GmEcDt1LXrUz1k7GRjxUj/s1600/20140308_161936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgaVTgFkcmsrqKi9LsLiDF5Tsqp9rIS0m2ASk022JSDJvWU35lV7VGv5GrWaCIEif7xziWgU3THYFt8R5ldm3v0NdZ2sMwzn49nD0J7q_HpZ9QFI46O88xq7GmEcDt1LXrUz1k7GRjxUj/s1600/20140308_161936.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">A view from the top through a telescope</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVNbRZEgz2mgAZo-hTyD5UjPBjHAUxHY_xbEHEpvzaGuU-msbL4VR3mGcoUAMl2FqmzzOtDbtKsv-lARCr4dSo_v_neu-9kRUqtuciWcsW7nepeGv3w4xoYdEfB163b2emQyOV6cfBzPm/s1600/20140308_163938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVNbRZEgz2mgAZo-hTyD5UjPBjHAUxHY_xbEHEpvzaGuU-msbL4VR3mGcoUAMl2FqmzzOtDbtKsv-lARCr4dSo_v_neu-9kRUqtuciWcsW7nepeGv3w4xoYdEfB163b2emQyOV6cfBzPm/s1600/20140308_163938.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The crater</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJP86EWEBqrBCEqykYSezJ3rRRps_v9z-mVOlmeFKHvexiy_I-FB0MyNyGSAakHziO_I-vQ336r-rUYhWqs0xZq9C1_1bvtIOu9jBk0RdjOzrMEeo2EjGFVW-14m48XF6A336sfGNDUzk/s1600/20140308_164722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJP86EWEBqrBCEqykYSezJ3rRRps_v9z-mVOlmeFKHvexiy_I-FB0MyNyGSAakHziO_I-vQ336r-rUYhWqs0xZq9C1_1bvtIOu9jBk0RdjOzrMEeo2EjGFVW-14m48XF6A336sfGNDUzk/s1600/20140308_164722.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">And back down again</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I'd definitely visit again, knowing now how much more there is to see. The beaches for one are just lovely, although next time I want to visit during a slightly less blustery season!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-50071156834684737082014-03-04T22:26:00.004+09:002014-03-04T22:27:17.095+09:00The Illusion of Wasted Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm currently in the middle of a wonderful week off from work, in which I've set myself lots of goals in the areas of studying, reading, writing, drawing, correspondence, cleaning and more. In typical me style, each day I've given myself way too many things to realistically do and then spent most of the day wallowing in a mixture of indifference, apathy, self-loathing and pure joy as I procrastinate to high heaven.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm starting to wonder if, by making a task something I <i>should</i> or<i> need</i> to do, I psychologically then don't want to do it. By that logic then if I put 'watch seven episodes of <i>Frasier</i> in a row and eat chocolate' on my list then maybe I will instead practice cartwheels and eat a bowlful of apples.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm noticing a trend. One day I might put 'do the washing' on my list, and end up drawing a picture. Then the next day if I put 'draw a picture' on the list, I might find myself cleaning my clothes. The activity in question is irrelevant- its mere presence on the list renders it undesirable. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So by the list logic I will eventually do everything, but I'll do it in an order that makes me feel perpetually guilty for not having got things done 'that day.' </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As a (tortured) writer I definitely suffer with guilt. There is no escape from the feeling that anything else I'm doing is a waste, a dreaded procrastination. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I sometimes lament the fact that my blog isn't bigger, that more people don't read it. Occasionally I join a link up or something to try and get more traffic. Then I stop and ask myself- do I even really want this? Needless to say popularity would be fun and it would be nice to have more of a blogging community. On the other hand, there are the following drawbacks:</span></span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do I want to do sponsored posts for money? You get sent cool stuff for free, but you're not free to blog about what you want to). </span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do I want to feel pressure to reply to comments left on a blog post? Some bloggers get a hundred comments every time they post something. At my average 0.0047 comments per blog post, I have no problem staying on top. </span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The most popular bloggers blog upwards of five times a week. How on earth would I find five things to write about each week?</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No, I think all in all I'm better off being free to ramble at my own pace, allowing it to be a fun pastime rather than edging into the dangerous territory of chore. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I sometimes dream about being a concert pianist and wish I was (infinitely) better at playing. But then if it was my day job I'd probably hate it. Not to say I hate my day job now or anything, I just mean that sometimes we think if we could have our favourite hobby as a career then life would be perfect. In actual fact for many people, being paid to do something (with the resulting deadlines and boundaries and pressure) can turn the thing they once loved into a pain in the ass. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In short, sometimes hobbies are best left as hobbies. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I read a great quote the other day in <i>Writing Children's Fiction. </i>On the subject of 'Writers Magic' Linda Newbery says, </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"imagination only comes when you privilege the subconscious, </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>when you make delay and procrastination work for you.āā</i> (pg79)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So maybe as a writer I'm lucky. I can do an activity totally unrelated and still call the time spent a success in terms of the daydreaming I did. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But even if I'm not doing what I'm 'supposed' to being doing, or even thinking about it in any way, shape or form, should I feel guilty? Should I care? I've decided the answer is a big fat no. I'm the only one putting this pressure on myself and creating a false sense of what's important and what's not. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the end it doesn't matter what we do with our time. All that really matters is that we're enjoying doing it. Is that not what life is about, after all? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0px none ! important;" /></span></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-67743739973542643482014-02-24T23:26:00.001+09:002014-02-26T14:09:53.477+09:00Hairy History<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yesterday I finally got round to dyeing my hair (from dodgy root ridden blonde to random red!) and then in a crazy mood of hair indulgence I went to the hairdressers for a cut. I've always found Korean stylists a little frightened of western hair, and this trip was no exception. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"English hair very difficult,' professed the hairdresser as she tried to work out the many knots in my wet hair. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">With a look of doubt she then added, "Home, hair care?...Rinse?" (hair conditioner?). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Despite her broken English I got the message loud and clear: my hair was a dry, knotty, uncared for mess. In my defense I mainly blame the shampoo girl, who rubbed my head with the towel so vigorously after washing that I thought my head might fall off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Not getting very far, the stylist called for back up and before I knew it there was a man on the other side of me, holding up more knots and oh-so-slowly-and-carefully trying to get the brush through my poor humiliated hair, unable to hide the displeasure in his face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As I sat there wishing I wasn't there, my mind wandered back to the many adventures and insults my hair has endured over the years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The first time I remember really noticing my hair was when I was about seven and I decided I wanted a bowl cut (where your hair literally looks like someone put a bowl on top of it and cut round the edge). Being a tom boy this appealed to me greatly and I even ended up with some neat little triangle strands in front of my ears, pixie style. I recall being most pleased when I entered the classroom the next day and my teacher said, "Oh look, we've got a new boy."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Skip forward a few years to university, where I decided I liked black dye (regardless of my pale face). On top of this, in an attempt to save money I asked my sister to cut my hair for me, adding in a nice thick fringe. We went out that night and as soon as we sat down a friend of mine proceeded to try and pull my 'wig' off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another time at uni a shocked and appalled hair dresser told me in these exact words, that "if there were social services for hair, mine would've been taken away a long time ago."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">About a year later I had descended into the black with a blue shine tone, which I liked very much until one of the gruff northern inmates at the prison I was working at said I looked like a granny with a blue rinse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then there was the perm. My dream of bouncy, big curls was thwarted by my dreadfully fine hair, instead creating an effect that was more of the limp and lank curl variety. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In the past two years I've continually dyed my hair into varying shades of light brown and blonde. Last year I changed it back to brown, but it came out all patchy with spots of leftover blonde. My answer to this was to go back to blonde again, therefore using five bottles of dye in 2 weeks. Now I'm no hairdresser but my stinging scalp spoke for itself in telling me that this wasn't a smart thing to do. At the end of it all, as my sister so aptly noted, I'd achieved that "yellow I liked so much."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago in Hair Salon class at school, a student said my hair was three different colours: Yellow, gold and brown.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Time for a change, I thought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And so there we go. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgzEn_4RiuRAjNAQlPYrX1fOn6cTMoRY0ykBZhQ3xeYewVyafKosddSgxC3v8quuAdQwZLmsnMPssTgeSZdaPQ0_X92kiQKQKaM-r7KnZ7dF4vKMtrWd-_de3bT3vLeax88FRgRji05VnSdmGxIRhKEciqLoq6QJBMQJ5z4OoTgPbSiXCxo9WCoz_EyvE66XvqfA8w=" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0px none ! important;" /></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYCAcIulfwxfieKnKjEJ87PPoKdV0u-HVN_-nsVMvMR2KeOZ9rea_rSd8L_IfEcyPZjCLSwmfHqdz7mktQd2xnb3yBlbw4tEiPKOscH_CDc89_xO5fn2WbbctuW9codvT8ehAMir0Fs1U/s1600/IMG-20140223-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYCAcIulfwxfieKnKjEJ87PPoKdV0u-HVN_-nsVMvMR2KeOZ9rea_rSd8L_IfEcyPZjCLSwmfHqdz7mktQd2xnb3yBlbw4tEiPKOscH_CDc89_xO5fn2WbbctuW9codvT8ehAMir0Fs1U/s1600/IMG-20140223-WA0003.jpg" height="400" width="300" /> </a></span></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Red hair, lazy picture</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I recently went on an outing to an ice rink (and on a side note I'm pleased to announce that, unlike the skiing debacle, it was a roaring success!) As I slid at my 'Rachel pace' around in a steady anticlockwise motion, I watched the girls in the coned off section in the middle practicing their turns and spins. Despite often falling over (to the great displeasure of their rather grumpy old man instructor), they were amazing. One girl, aged about eleven, span quickly round and round and round, holding her leg bent behind her as she went and then slowly bringing it up until she was doing the vertical splits. Wowser.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Skate+America+1Zc-RaXTjvml.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Skate+America+1Zc-RaXTjvml.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olympic champion skater Kim Yuna</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My friend told me that Kim Yuna herself used to practice at that very ice rink when she was a hopeful figure skating youth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As I watched I began to ponder on the wonderful- and often later forgotten- world of children's hopes and dreams.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A few years ago I attended a training workshop as part of a collaboration between youth workers and other agents of services for young people. The training was led by a woman from Connexions, which for any of you who don't know, was a careers advice service for 13-19 year olds in the UK. My own experience of them had been less than positive, consisting of a single thirty minute slot in which a fifteen year old me checked boxes next to the relevant interests and strengths and was then presented with a list of completely bizarre 'suitable' jobs. I seem to remember accountant being one of them...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The workshop was about helping to guide young people on the right paths to jobs. I can't say I was particularly inspired, but thought the premise sounded fair enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">That is, until the trainer opened her mouth. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Within five minutes she'd depressed me so much I just wanted to run out the door and never look back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Her opening deal was this:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"What did you want to be when you were young?"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We went round the room: </span><i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A fireman!" </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A Space man!"</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A Gymnast!"</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A Pianist!" </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A children's author!"</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh how we all laughed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then she said (brace yourself): </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"And what do you want to be, now that you're grown up?"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Nobody else even flinched.</span><i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A lifeguard."</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A police man." </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A senior youth worker."</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"A manager."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>"Erm...A children's author?" </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She chose to ignore the fact that my two answers were the same (I suppose it didn't really fit with the ethos of her workshop) and proceeded to announce:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> "And thats what Connexion's is here for- </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">to connect young people with their realistic dream jobs!"</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'll never forget that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I teach a class here where each student thinks about what job they want when they grow up. I love that to a child the difference between becoming a teacher or becoming an opera singer, is nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's their dream, and that's it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I say dream big, dream big like a kid and forget what that Connexions woman said. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgzEn_4RiuRAjNAQlPYrX1fOn6cTMoRY0ykBZhQ3xeYewVyafKosddSgxC3v8quuAdQwZLmsnMPssTgeSZdaPQ0_X92kiQKQKaM-r7KnZ7dF4vKMtrWd-_de3bT3vLeax88FRgRji05VnSdmGxIRhKEciqLoq6QJBMQJ5z4OoTgPbSiXCxo9WCoz_EyvE66XvqfA8w=" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0px none ! important;" /></a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">During January two ever so slightly less than successful new experiences have come my way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Skiing</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Looking back I was so naive to think what I thought: that everyone could ski, that it was no big deal. In my head those things were true. And that's how Lee and I ended up at the top of a mountain slope, wondering how the f*ck we were going to get down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I knew I was in trouble as soon as I put on the boots. They were incredibly tight and rigid, and almost impossible to walk in. I nearly fell on the steps from the car park to the ski slope. I probably should've turned back then. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I tried to learn how to move and stop. I couldn't do it. Within minutes Lee went sliding uncontrollably down into the path of oncoming skiers, promptly falling over and detaching ski boot from ski.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For some reason after this we and our two other companions thought the natural progression would be to get on the ski lift and just 'give it a go.' </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The journey was pretty and would've been quite relaxing had I not been thinking about how I was going to manage to get off the thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lee was in front and it was his turn. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He got off and fell over. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I nearly snapped my legs off having not understood the Korean command 'lift your feet up.' My turn came and I began to panic. I couldn't bring myself to jump off the stupid thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Before I knew it I was swinging around and heading back down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I wish they'd left me but unfortunately the staff pressed the emergency stop button and, much to my extreme mortification, came to my rescue. They took my skis off and put them to the side. I waddled over, re-attached them, moved about three feet and fell on my bum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the middle of asking if I was OK, Lee began to slide towards the hill. Before either of us knew what was happening, he was sliding <i>down</i> the hill. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My friend thought Lee was simply keen to get stuck in, but I'd seen the look on his face as he went faster and faster with no idea of how to stop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He disappeared, leaving me to wonder: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">a) if he was going to live to tell the tale </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">b) how I was going to go about following him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The next hour consisted of me shuffling, slightly sliding, falling, spending excessive amounts of energy trying to get up, getting sweaty and stressed and being embarrassed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I thought skiing was supposed to be fun?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Eventually I asked my friend to go on without me, leaving me to cool off in the awkward position on the slope that I'd fallen in. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lee came back for me- which was very nice considering he felt he was a risk up on that slope to himself and everyone else around. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I had one last failure of a go and after that we took our skis off and slid down the mountain in our boots. Now <i>that </i>was quite fun! </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Next time (if there is one) I will be getting a lesson.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHu97luZnFDLgvIeng1KPHV3-1wgCi77Bb_4jVel4I4H6KO8f4Qbw4l_ZfnpClmNr-Dq8oFYlL_0C8vU7CBI9ttrsLAN8W8NJHJWDmF32Wr8p5ekWRSRw2pxOAaVY3PpyDc4Seuz7-uMC/s1600/DSC06317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHu97luZnFDLgvIeng1KPHV3-1wgCi77Bb_4jVel4I4H6KO8f4Qbw4l_ZfnpClmNr-Dq8oFYlL_0C8vU7CBI9ttrsLAN8W8NJHJWDmF32Wr8p5ekWRSRw2pxOAaVY3PpyDc4Seuz7-uMC/s1600/DSC06317.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sitting safely at the bottom</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. Visiting a dog cafe. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dog and cat cafes are pretty normal in Korea. They are what they say on the tin- a place to drink coffee with friends and pet said animals. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've always been intrigued, which is why I forgot to consider one rather large problem- I hate dogs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On the journey there it became more and more apparent that I was being a bit stupid. I've never been friends with a dog. I've been bitten by two different dogs and attemptedly humped by several. They are smelly and needy and hairy and disgusting. They bark and jump up and have big teeth. In general- except for the really small fluffy ones- I find them quite terrifying. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As you can imagine I felt like a complete idiot when we arrived and I had to be coaxed even into the 'small dog' arena. How stupid do you have to be to go to a dog cafe when you're not at all keen on dogs?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_N5lLRN688NNljXW6HzkX-KFiSu3UECdJtqzioL8v0GmOzXHIvJLGkTWGCtqbUsQEThcuSsxRfl83m7ddu0c2cNhF8F_70SzgxDEMH8Y0QbmSXNPbxCfED_IFPjvffqDoCpN-tYb9flH/s1600/20140129_164302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_N5lLRN688NNljXW6HzkX-KFiSu3UECdJtqzioL8v0GmOzXHIvJLGkTWGCtqbUsQEThcuSsxRfl83m7ddu0c2cNhF8F_70SzgxDEMH8Y0QbmSXNPbxCfED_IFPjvffqDoCpN-tYb9flH/s1600/20140129_164302.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lee and his new friends </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the big boys section were a range of breeds and sizes, free to jump up on the adoring customers as they pleased. I lingered at the gate, looking over nervously, but couldn't bring myself to go in. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So I sat in the corner, hoping none of the little dogs would notice I was there. Sometimes a big dog or two would enter the small dog pen, causing an uproar of noise amongst the dogs, and a near heart attack in me. A golden retriever thought it would be funny to slip in when the gate was opened, and run around the edge of the room under all the tables. My heart leapt into my mouth as I held my breath, hoping he would pass without attacking me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And then, the beast to end all beasts, the king of all that is canine, a massive white thing paraded through with its owner. It was fluffier than anything I've ever seen on four legs, yet still its part-wolf-part-horse look frightened the living daylights out of me. Surely it could (and may well) devour every single one of us? My only protection was the chihuahua sitting next to me who began yapping like crazy, clearly thinking he could take on the monster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="goog_957396353"></span><span id="goog_957396354"></span><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oUAFjhQ2ZiG1AWW4Uf8Kv3qA5oWQO7Xi04dcJzzgStbK9LdnxF35J5t53PV-gOv-vfcFUHXhXG8A4yNir1Mqa8qfxxJ-7xrCtz_VE-ZWfIJBSyLAHu4BG2QELJ64kp-4T_Yxt-SAJ3Pk/s1600/20140129_154249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oUAFjhQ2ZiG1AWW4Uf8Kv3qA5oWQO7Xi04dcJzzgStbK9LdnxF35J5t53PV-gOv-vfcFUHXhXG8A4yNir1Mqa8qfxxJ-7xrCtz_VE-ZWfIJBSyLAHu4BG2QELJ64kp-4T_Yxt-SAJ3Pk/s1600/20140129_154249.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Teddy bear/monster wolf cross breed</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thankfully the outing wasn't a complete disaster, in that I did make one friend. A small raggedy old thing that sat next to me, tongue out, slobbering on the chair. Sure, he was asleep for most of the time, but I did manage to stroke him a couple of times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So there you have it: a summary of how Rachel tried and failed to do new things! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What will be next?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0px none ! important;" />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-29815904273940126302014-01-21T02:38:00.000+09:002014-01-21T02:38:01.867+09:00Oh, You Kids!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A bit of background info about the place I work at.<br />
Seoul English Village is an English immersion camp, with situational classes. Students come and stay here for a few days, usually with their school, usually hundreds of students at a time. Students come, students go: a fact which has positives and negatives in equal parts. We get variety in age, English level and background of students, but don't get to build relationships. Kids we like leave, and so do kids we don't like.<br />
<br />
Over Winter Camp we've done Oral Tests, to allow us to put the students into teams based on their level. The Oral Test involves asking questions, to elicit answers hopefully using a range of tenses and vocabulary. As the student sits down in the seat opposite us, we have no idea where they're going to be at. Sometimes they are incredibly cheerful, other times they look around shiftily, looking for someone to rescue them. Sometimes they're fluent. And other times when we ask the first question, <i>'how are you?' </i>the answer is a slow, practiced, careful <i>'I am nine years old.'</i><br />
<br />
Usually I ask a random selection of suggested questions on the list, steering clear of the last one.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"What is the most important thing in the world?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Whoa there! I'm sure there are many adults who would struggle to come up with a quick or real answer to this mind blowing question. I can't help feeling it's immenseness is rather inappropriately aimed at the (more often than not) 9-12 age bracket here at SEV.<br />
That being said, this time around I decided to give the question a go and have become intrigued and slightly addicted to the answers. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> "Money"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="color: orange;">"My brother" </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="color: blue;">"Homework" </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> "Energy"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="color: #38761d;">"English" </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;"> <span style="color: #e06666;">"Water"</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">"Study"</span> <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">(so I can speak to people when I visit Paris) </span></span> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="color: cyan;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #45818e;">"My dream"</span> <span style="font-size: small;">(to become an actor as well as teacher) </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and the most wonderful answer of all, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">"Peace"</span></span></span><br />
<br />
I love how individually valid and different these answers are. There's a distinct line between awareness of the wider world and a close, egocentric (and therefore childish) sense of what is important.<br /><br />
<br />
A class here that can be at either end of the mind numbingly boring-amazingly interesting spectrum for a teacher is <b>Post Office</b>. The main aim of this class is for each student to write a letter to their favourite teacher. More often than not the kids have only been here for a couple of days, and so aren't particularly bothered about writing to a teacher. Other times their English is so poor that they do well just to copy out the words I've written on the board, including the gaps I meant for them to fill with their own words. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm having a ____________ time at SEV.<br />My favourite class so far is______________.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
Nice one.<br />
Needless to say, every teacher is thrilled when one of these bad boys appears in their mailbox.<br />
<br />
Other times you get a strangely insulting letter, such as the one I got a few weeks ago, which went something like this:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Teacher have big face</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm love you</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Joke</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm sorry!</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span> My my. Rude <i>and </i>bad grammar. <br />
<br />
But then occasionally you get those students who've been here for a while, who know the teachers and really want to write a good letter (and not to mention, have the ability to do it). My most recent Post Office class was one of these instances, and here are some of the results:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAk4Cuz9Be7dzsLzYicCSWy9qyF53FaCnZzXFO7wwB_AaddJM6D_w4n5oCuyLGXZO4sli6aUxNEV-lNM1pPcckCer3rEw6tu_wUHHbMX4aPhKxuicz0iGCx5QxhEx1lQORvz4S1VXe2VZ3/s1600/20140120_181909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAk4Cuz9Be7dzsLzYicCSWy9qyF53FaCnZzXFO7wwB_AaddJM6D_w4n5oCuyLGXZO4sli6aUxNEV-lNM1pPcckCer3rEw6tu_wUHHbMX4aPhKxuicz0iGCx5QxhEx1lQORvz4S1VXe2VZ3/s1600/20140120_181909.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>One Last Winner i</b>s a quiz competition- does she think it's gonna be lots of questions relating to snow??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRN46ijBNtu2xJO_liDBehWAhduyo5IzPK53X7-lzYuHUvGmtOwW-CsMI0LG8JR_WNl57Pp69I2k4KuqCvDWuW8M2aNnaUw1dA4OSgDp4kSK_uyVx1-jQCcSHdutkxdhyphenhyphenhkWL0w_zaXvSr/s1600/20140120_181848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRN46ijBNtu2xJO_liDBehWAhduyo5IzPK53X7-lzYuHUvGmtOwW-CsMI0LG8JR_WNl57Pp69I2k4KuqCvDWuW8M2aNnaUw1dA4OSgDp4kSK_uyVx1-jQCcSHdutkxdhyphenhyphenhkWL0w_zaXvSr/s1600/20140120_181848.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He is quite alone in being impressed with the food here! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm concerned my hair colour has really descended into a nasty yellow.</td></tr>
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<br />
Another highly entertaining event here at SEV is the evening Winter/Summer Camp Talent Show, of which we've had a few recently. The talent show is a time for students to dance, sing, attempt magic tricks or put on skits. It's all very cute. There are times when the kids are so good they leave you speechless.<br />
And there are other times when they leave you speechless in a whole other way. A couple of weeks ago we had one of <i>those </i>Talent Shows, where most of the acts were just plain painful. One girl (I like to think of her as the ringleader of the painfulness) decided to sing a cappella. It's not that she was bad, it's just that even professionals can't necessarily sing to a room full of people without musical accompaniment. The audience talked over her and we were embarrassed for her, but she plowed on, seemingly unaware (for not one but two songs.) At the end she won third place, but when she got up to receive her prize she looked far from pleased, clearly not having praticed her 'gracious loser' face.<br />
Then last week she came back for more! Her rendition of 'I Dreamed a Dream,' from Les Miserables of course had no music to accompany it. It was a painful re-enactment of the last weeks performance, but made even better by the last note, which dragged on and on. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">drrreeeeaaaaaaaaammmmmm!</span></i></span> (for at least 10 long, slightly warbly seconds)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Loved it. </div>
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0px none ! important;" />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-73679021148752752502014-01-12T15:31:00.000+09:002014-01-12T15:31:11.411+09:00Getting into Nature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Whilst not being a fan of new years resolutions, I have decided that this year I want to make an effort to get out in nature more. I've spent the last few years living in cities- and capital ones at that- and find it's easy to get sucked into the charms of the man-made and forget to do anything else. When I'm at home especially, I spend the majority of my time in Coventry, Birmingham, London or other cities, with not much chance to get out into the countryside. It was only last summer when I had the use of my Mum's car that I have the chance to see some fields and trees.<br />
It is often argued that how much time we spend in nature can have an impact on our mental health. In today's world it's easy to go day to day from building to building, from concrete to concrete. We are guilty of sometimes valuing technology and money above animals, trees and water, which when all is said and done are things we cannot survive without. To not ever experience the natural world, is, quite simply, unnatural. <br />
<br />
Our school here in Seoul is right next to the mountains. A few days ago I went on a hike with a friend, finding ourselves away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city within ten minutes of leaving the house. There are various trails, a Buddhist temple (with chants emanating through the doors) as well as a tower that shows an incredible panoramic view of the city. There are also some outdoor gym areas dotted around. One place was like a youth club; music blaring, people hanging out and chatting, the only difference being that they were all over the age of fifty. <br />
The mountains are such a calm and tranquil place so close to home. I must remember to go there more often, and next time I will attempt to fit in with the Koreans by taking some makkoli (rice wine) to enjoy at the top. <br />
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Yesterday Lee and I went to Seoul Forest, which is meant to be the biggest park in Seoul. It has been compared to London's Hyde Park and New York's Central Park, but I have to say it paled in insignificance in comparison to either. Perhaps it would be nicer at a different time of year, with leaves on the trees and running water features, but I still couldn't help being a bit disappointed. Seoul is known for its lack of green parks, and Seoul Forest is no exception, favouring concrete over grass in most instances. We had hoped to hire bikes but were told when we got there that you had to hire them from the subway station. The park is also so surrounded by freeways that the constant hum of traffic was never far off. <br />
Complaints aside, we had a good walk and had fun playing in the children's play areas. We drank warming coffee and visited the adorable baby deer park. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNsdH2IEEWDvSaKArQcE2sPEClsSI9rA5mFuMwXlcJKx9IOxJVYn-2VIskSD_qLQckbappMOkh8OKXTNxxcFdXGBAvb7eMdm3nAuAuzUHhRPp0GDEUJYkAywpO-hP9Kt4WBUfNgnfPwOH/s1600/20140111_154143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNsdH2IEEWDvSaKArQcE2sPEClsSI9rA5mFuMwXlcJKx9IOxJVYn-2VIskSD_qLQckbappMOkh8OKXTNxxcFdXGBAvb7eMdm3nAuAuzUHhRPp0GDEUJYkAywpO-hP9Kt4WBUfNgnfPwOH/s1600/20140111_154143.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some rules for the park. <b><i>No burping?</i></b> Seems a little strict.</span></td></tr>
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And one last ramble on the theme of the 'natural.'<br />
Recently I've been going to the gym a bit and am thoroughly enjoying the Korean attitude towards nudity. The women parade around stark naked in the changing rooms, chatting and blow drying and generally seeming ultra proud of themselves. One girl even put on her bra, t-shirt and jumper before even thinking about putting on a pair of knickers. I'm not sure whether to call them weird for being so open, or to admire their lack of prudishness, but either way it's pretty entertaining. <br />
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<br />Well that's it from me. Have you been anywhere nice recently?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-31371294701379896312013-12-31T18:23:00.004+09:002014-01-31T00:14:14.470+09:00All about 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Although self-indulgent, I couldn't resist the old 'round up the year' post. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In 2013 we took 22 flights.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The first half of the year was spent surviving Saudi. Hard to believe now that it was only that long ago.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In January a visit home, for snow and a belated Christmas of sorts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In March a strangely timed holiday with three of our parents to Cyprus, at the height of the country's financial crisis. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Surviving the first year of being married was celebrated with a visit to Dubai's Burj Kalifa.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I challenged myself to get to the top of a climbing wall- and made it!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The summer was spent at home, chilling with family and friends and spending far too much time in Wetherspoons pub. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In July a two week long house music festival in Croatia, to 'get over' Saudi.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Secret Garden Party in August reaffirmed my faith in new music and England in general. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I finally embarked on the second year of my masters course.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lee was best man at his Dad's wedding. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Whilst the stay in Vietnam was short lived, we experienced some of Ho Chi Minh's beauty and history.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then there was the crazy impromptu road trip covering some of California, Mexico, Arizona and Nevada.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I got my first speeding ticket.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We went back to Vegas.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Time travel happened, taking us back to a job and a country we never thought we would. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And last but certainly not least, two of my nearest and dearest ladies brought lovely babies into the world, who I get to meet in the new year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's about it!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Farewell 2013, it's been fun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And now the question is- what weird and wonderful adventures will 2014 bring?</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-59592890850077647072013-12-20T17:04:00.001+09:002013-12-20T17:04:03.392+09:00The Culture of Couples <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In Korea the 'couple' is a widely celebrated entity. On Valentines Day girls give gifts to boys, which means another day has been created for men to return the favour. Exactly a month after Feb 14th couples celebrate White Day, when men give sweets and chocolates to their lady friends. All very sweet (and unnecessary).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But it doesn't stop there. Christmas is also considered a couples holiday, which explains why we have so many children staying at our camp on Christmas Day. We have to look after the kids so parents can romantically celebrate the birth of Jesus. Our first year here we went to Outback Steakhouse on Christmas Day, which was full of other couples. We had fun watching the man and woman next to us picking daintily at a shared steak and lobster in the middle of their table. I seem to remember they had their food already when we arrived and it was still there by the time we left. Cold steak anyone? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At the cinema the other day we got the 'couples set' popcorn and drink combo, which came free with three coca cola flavoured chap sticks (vanilla coke, cherry coke and just plain coke) in a heart shaped tin. The perfect way to say I love you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It still doesn't stop there. I now come to my favourite couple thing about Korea, and the reason for this blog post. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Couples clothes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's right. Out and about Seoul it's common to see girls and boys holding hands and wearing matching t-shirts, hats, bags or shoes, you name it. At the moment it's mostly matching jackets, which begs the question 'what do you do when you split up with your girl/boyfriend and consequently can't bear to wear your only winter coat?' </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And as if that wasn't enough, on my last clothes shopping trip I saw something so amazing that I can now die happy. Couples underwear. Couples silky leopard print underwear. Lee asked the shop assistant what it was all about, to which the shop assistant helpfully clarified which of the teeny tiny sized garments were for men and which were for women. If they were bigger I would've considered buying them for the comedy factor. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After we left the shop I couldn't help wondering if anyone is actually buying them in seriousness. Is this now considered sexy? Did I miss something?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Merry Christmas, with love from Korea!</i></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-46152763379861732782013-12-13T17:59:00.001+09:002014-04-05T10:13:31.472+09:00The Culture of Food<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I like Korean food a lot: meat cooked on the bbq at your table; chicken cooked at the table with potato, spicy sauce and cheese; a vast array of soups and of course kimchi. I do, however, remember a time when I wasn't at all keen on these spicy, alien flavours. They are definitely an acquired taste and persistence is key in getting to like them. <br />
Koreans generally consider their cuisine to be the best in the world and are very particular about what goes with what. Restaurants often find the idea of switching things or doing something different mind-blowing. If you don't want radish in your egg, or you want milk in your Americano, your request will likely get the response of a confused look, tilted head or hands crossed in an 'X' shape. The other day we were told at a restaurant that we could have the chicken without the salad, but not the salad without the chicken.<br />
At school we have many weird and wonderful salad-fruit combinations. It might be lettuce slathered in a tangy mayo, or with sesame seeds and spice, or blended pumpkin with melon (why not?), but one thing's for sure- it will only vaguely resemble the fruit or vegetable it once was. I used to think this was just a school thing, but I have come to realise it's a nationwide phenomena. We were recently served sweet potato pizza (seriously, how can you f*ck up pizza?),which is a replica of the popular Korean choice at pizza restaurants. <br />
After a lot of perseverance and a fair bit of spitting out, I finally came to love kimchi (which, for any of you who don't know, simply put, is cabbage fermented in peppery spices). It's weird and crunchy, it's good hot or cold, in soup or fried. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a3/Gimchi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a3/Gimchi.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kimchi</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4c/Korean_stew-Kimchi_jjigae-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4c/Korean_stew-Kimchi_jjigae-01.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kimchi Jjiage- my favourite <br />
(but eat with caution for it will burn your face off)</td></tr>
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But why do people eat it so much?<br />
One reason is that it's supposed to be really good for you. According to studies it contains plenty of vitamins and has been said to lower cholesterol and help fight cancer.<br />
I'm also convinced that it's addictive. I used to hate it and now I miss it when I don't have it. This theory is backed up by the fact that Koreans eat it at every single meal.<br />
<br />
At the moment it's kimchi making season, so you see it all around the place in apartment stairwells being 'brewed' in big pots. I'm told that many homes here have a second fridge, solely for storing it. Koreans are known for taking it with them on holiday, so they don't have to face two weeks without it. A friend of mine once cooked a roast dinner for her friend's mum. All was going well and everyone seemed excited, until the mum-without any embarrassment at all- laid out kimchi and other Korean side dishes at the table. How unaware do you have to be to not see that this could be considered closed minded or rude? And not to mention ridiculous. It's the equivalent of going to a Thai persons house for Thai curry, sitting down at the table and pulling a jar of pickled onions out of your handbag.<br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-18883264597578880322013-12-05T11:27:00.002+09:002013-12-05T11:27:51.479+09:00A little bit of Thanks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's been a busy few weeks getting settled back into life here. I'm slowly but surely crawling towards this semester's hand in date at uni (hooray!). I've decorated the apartment and put up the Christmas tree. After a rather painful three weeks we've moved onto night shift, finally allowing me that peaceful, wonderful time in the morning to write, read and sleep. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Work is as it ever was and the students are much the same. I've been surprised by their general low level of English, making me realise how good some of my other students have been since last time I was here. In stark contrast to the Saudis, Korean kids are so well behaved and conformist, sometimes to the point of freaky. Generally they are very sweet and enthusiastic about being here at English Village. It's great to be in an environment where the students are happy. I am especially loving them stopping to bow at me in the corridor! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being back after so many other experiences both in and out of the classroom have made me view this job in a completely different light. I'm finding new and interesting ways to teach the classes and am basking in the glory of the non-existent planning. I'm finding the menial paper cutting tasks given to me during 'programming' lessons relaxing and fun. I'm pleased with the free food, even if sometimes there are squid tentacles swimming in the soup.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perhaps as a direct result of my magical positive state, I'm noticing how much other people complain. I've come to realise that depending on how you choose to see it, there is so much to be happy about or equally so much to hate. I notice people saying things that maybe I would've said the first time round. I'm noticing arrogance and superiority and grumbling over nothing. It's making me laugh that people can be so openly lazy and sometimes rude in front of the bosses. At times the unprofessionalism (word??) makes me cringe. I'm seeing that being ungrateful and negative are not attractive traits.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe I've just learnt to live with the shit, but I have to say I prefer viewing the job -and my life- through this new, happier lens.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Playing 'Pilgrims' at Thanksgiving dinner</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mWDLq0LepufU8QTp7HD4uc0MqnIaN42vM6UHbHoCgWOe9iV1IeQ33JCisP2SK4X1bqA-Z_xQAbfpFk68Zv1cB-dv-jqoyP7Mfem3_5h8qEqph9BGuNDFn30e9b6lZjzWRMKjaVBatOzN/s1600/1385785220197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mWDLq0LepufU8QTp7HD4uc0MqnIaN42vM6UHbHoCgWOe9iV1IeQ33JCisP2SK4X1bqA-Z_xQAbfpFk68Zv1cB-dv-jqoyP7Mfem3_5h8qEqph9BGuNDFn30e9b6lZjzWRMKjaVBatOzN/s640/1385785220197.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jerseycitygal.com/files/2013/11/happy-thanksgiving-13948407-1104x1739-1024x650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://jerseycitygal.com/files/2013/11/happy-thanksgiving-13948407-1104x1739-1024x650.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09085535176578277841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8836098291513692283.post-49798966181107068852013-11-25T20:57:00.001+09:002013-11-25T20:57:31.972+09:00American Adventure Part III<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've finally got round to writing about the third part of our adventure- Vegas! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was great after so much travelling around to stop, hand back the car and just be lazy. And for me, drink again (yippee!) I could barely contain my excitement on the way in- driving towards the strip is really something else, so bright and welcoming. We stayed at Luxor (the big pyramid) for the first 6 nights, which was a step up from last time at Terribles Casino. Our room was actually part of the pyramid and so had a sloping wall on the side of the window.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZiZ8MmTGy0vyRgbDlRui2l-WxacuCLz2wq9S0vMQsehBjV622vV6v0M17lYG1OOfr-NxsahEgRsC2Jki9asQ_a-lmVvvD8bMVfpwVX58HvWbWRLtMlH7jLCsX2z9UByBhVXTpmEl06mh/s1600/20131028_204303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZiZ8MmTGy0vyRgbDlRui2l-WxacuCLz2wq9S0vMQsehBjV622vV6v0M17lYG1OOfr-NxsahEgRsC2Jki9asQ_a-lmVvvD8bMVfpwVX58HvWbWRLtMlH7jLCsX2z9UByBhVXTpmEl06mh/s640/20131028_204303.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our first of not many wins </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsu7WsbkeRw3zVfnEQkxbxUr4YYBnVjpbhwxzmjh7KlgLId3a-Pza_1TU5cYLTZpPseBBrjTQok6ocQswzC2gFe_4n7bZlAIwVGvEJXA3PdDhgNZuExpPEnTxJO_TgGOr64qVOfpxExve/s1600/DSC06278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsu7WsbkeRw3zVfnEQkxbxUr4YYBnVjpbhwxzmjh7KlgLId3a-Pza_1TU5cYLTZpPseBBrjTQok6ocQswzC2gFe_4n7bZlAIwVGvEJXA3PdDhgNZuExpPEnTxJO_TgGOr64qVOfpxExve/s640/DSC06278.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Outside Luxor</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> We had fun on the first night wandering around all of our favourite haunts from last time- a particular highlight on that night was the duelling pianos in a bar in New York New York. I love this hotel because you can actually walk around 'mini New York,' with apartment blocks and stuff. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">New York New York</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our friends Rhian and Adam arrived the next day. We visited them at their hotel room in Paris, which looked out on the Bellagio fountains themselves! Lovely. Together we had some adventures: drinking alcoholic iced drinks in tall refillable cups, riding the roller coaster at New York, New York and playing on the kids games, trying our hand at gambling. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdEv6dMB1wrYpkv7TTRDsdsIVO2VJln8bm1muLmrEoXbIqk8t-jW3i2zHJdlK0pq1lw6Ia7xfHZFvwjU4rNsc_SbsXOG93BTUrEXiqaNCu5foZGT8XD3bvYPPDcVeIryRR7r-s-L0y_hE7/s1600/20131029_140551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdEv6dMB1wrYpkv7TTRDsdsIVO2VJln8bm1muLmrEoXbIqk8t-jW3i2zHJdlK0pq1lw6Ia7xfHZFvwjU4rNsc_SbsXOG93BTUrEXiqaNCu5foZGT8XD3bvYPPDcVeIryRR7r-s-L0y_hE7/s640/20131029_140551.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At Senor Frogs</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhudiSbG-Plzb70YJGg2jQt2oQxCf9i-GEtacD3PTFoiWa7Vu3EUGlyg8zJ7Bf0NyNW688im5bH87_QEA5jmKL2XCYlwTiSES3QmjP6eNqzCgdsHNwafoqxQxBkdIDWHxMtKDNeZt1GFuMS/s1600/20131029_142204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhudiSbG-Plzb70YJGg2jQt2oQxCf9i-GEtacD3PTFoiWa7Vu3EUGlyg8zJ7Bf0NyNW688im5bH87_QEA5jmKL2XCYlwTiSES3QmjP6eNqzCgdsHNwafoqxQxBkdIDWHxMtKDNeZt1GFuMS/s640/20131029_142204.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Drinks!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMIY1zgQxw1_PEyWhFk1lnyyCghwtsrXNlLmSNjSN-G-llzLNtMGlqUfTbHz7u5GAttPdUQL4elluLTUr1d23dLr6euCzY98WByjaaSUCXmzeNc_iIXcCtiXIVGu9nQZ9aC3lWaVQgv2g/s1600/DSC06244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMIY1zgQxw1_PEyWhFk1lnyyCghwtsrXNlLmSNjSN-G-llzLNtMGlqUfTbHz7u5GAttPdUQL4elluLTUr1d23dLr6euCzY98WByjaaSUCXmzeNc_iIXcCtiXIVGu9nQZ9aC3lWaVQgv2g/s640/DSC06244.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Trying to play the slots (I don't get it!)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrtpMtE0FN_EkGqrt-VD5zrMBeP4-0HRfDbm73Bn-ylDQVS7ixcfo3fa35NgUfUeLIzPHym_p5YBSEuLtx8TDGSOQoh1kPl_NRIqCqvF29GqG-ZrbNEJ2wSEoaBBB2P4ATn0Xm4SoJsit/s1600/DSC06272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrtpMtE0FN_EkGqrt-VD5zrMBeP4-0HRfDbm73Bn-ylDQVS7ixcfo3fa35NgUfUeLIzPHym_p5YBSEuLtx8TDGSOQoh1kPl_NRIqCqvF29GqG-ZrbNEJ2wSEoaBBB2P4ATn0Xm4SoJsit/s640/DSC06272.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They couldn't help themselves</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Just like last time, Lee and I chickened out of playing any 'proper' games, opting instead for 'the big wheel.' Overall it wasn't too kind to us, but we did have one rather amazing night where we played for more than two hours with only twenty dollars! And of course the waitresses bring you free drinks if you're playing, which we took advantage of (about six each if I remember rightly). Crazy really when you think a Jack Daniels and Coke in the Bellagio where we were playing is somewhere between five and ten dollars a drink. We also went to see the Cirque Du Soleil show Mystere. The acrobatics were mind blowing and the music, which included a live opera singer and huge drums, was amazing. I've decided I definitely want a big drum when I finally move into my own apartment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On Halloween I'm ashamed to admit we didn't dress up, but we headed downtown to bask in the joy of everyone else's costumes. And Americans certainly go all out! It's not often you see middle aged people in full blown fancy dress. Shrek and Fiona, Dracula, a seventy year old Minnie Mouse, you name it. Some of the winning costumes for me were a box of wine, a piƱata and an injection. On Freemont street in downtown was an outdoor rave going on with fire blasters around the stage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We did so many things in our ten days in Vegas it would be impossible to write it all down. We lounged by the pool, went to see Bad Grandpa at the cinema (there was a couple in there with their toddler son-inappropriate much?) and walked for miles and miles taking in the sights and sounds. In the second week we moved to Circus Circus which was not so glamorous but we found the best game in a casino that was a bit like a working men's club- The Dogs! We spent so much time betting 50 cents a go on which computerised dog would come in first. Good times. We watched the volcano outside Mirage hotel, a fully blown erupting extravaganza. We went to see the Beatles Cirque Du Soleil show 'Love.' We ate at a lovely French restaurant and a an American restaurant where Lee had Chicken fried Steak and fries, with a side of Corn bread, enough to feed five people. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFLGHg21sw0MW4ww3QSp0YPEkvi6Rr-3C7GPL-R7orcMTLjP8GHvXL-V6_6gOQF3mJRsrJan-fxgs_FWJoSvLLka7NeZT_bJyNd9YLH_M7L8-RPZv7IjPo84i3AP0R1ool_bMN77LIo3C/s1600/20131104_174932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFLGHg21sw0MW4ww3QSp0YPEkvi6Rr-3C7GPL-R7orcMTLjP8GHvXL-V6_6gOQF3mJRsrJan-fxgs_FWJoSvLLka7NeZT_bJyNd9YLH_M7L8-RPZv7IjPo84i3AP0R1ool_bMN77LIo3C/s640/20131104_174932.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Beatles 'Love'</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsurh58AT9gSBEWUkLTQ-flMQYeA4IHKhKf_lWzTU-S9K7BnglbZzPZQqdvC9nkuaeDlYik7W6oqVOoZV2OwFv3F1Ndd4t1y-FSVnT7W2D_C_pFSSMymwPB8lGszYDiVnC5kIgZhuOFAND/s1600/20131031_231902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsurh58AT9gSBEWUkLTQ-flMQYeA4IHKhKf_lWzTU-S9K7BnglbZzPZQqdvC9nkuaeDlYik7W6oqVOoZV2OwFv3F1Ndd4t1y-FSVnT7W2D_C_pFSSMymwPB8lGszYDiVnC5kIgZhuOFAND/s640/20131031_231902.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Watching the fountains at the Bellagio</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Our last day was weird and most unique. In the morning we headed downtown for the Million Mask March. It wasn't a huge turnout but we felt proud to be part of something that was going on worldwide- people standing together against corporate greed and corrupt governments.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After that we went to try and get cheap tickets to Le Reve- supposedly the best Cirque Du Soleil show in Vegas. We tried to do this last time but it didn't work out so great. The deal is you can get tickets for 75 dollars if you go to a presentation at the Jockey Club on buying a 'vacation timeshare.' You have to be married (check- we showed them photos as proof!) but last time we got kicked out because we told them we weren't currently working. I guess sometimes it's difficult for Americans to understand the concept of time off?! Anyway, we were briefed by the nice lady at the ticket booth (who Lee later told me was most definitely a post-op transsexual- and he knew this because they were flirting...) on how exactly not to F up. We went along to the Jockey Club and listened to quite a fun presentation about how we could improve our amount of vacation time for ourselves as a 'family.' Obviously as things have been going the past couple of years I think we actually need less time together and less holiday! Three gruelling hours later and a near escape from the purchase of some hotel gift vouchers we emerged with our Le Reve tickets clutched in our hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The show was worth every penny. It's an acrobatic extravaganza set on a circular stage in the middle of the audience, which submerges underwater and then reappears intermittently throughout the show. There was syncronised swimming, there was diving, there was acrobatics up high on wires. It was truly amazing! And they gave us a free program <i>and</i> let us take photos. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZodjXY1_-71BDK7JudQ5HIlx3DngShC1XejxMdG7Tg2R93rDYb_DwBKhOw901e7xTRwElwTP1bMWEb49-JUOdzObg4_sD4paSwp76t2GVIkRQ3zCJ7Ap9hgVMxNB5gdGmkWLpC4RNCidl/s1600/DSC06286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZodjXY1_-71BDK7JudQ5HIlx3DngShC1XejxMdG7Tg2R93rDYb_DwBKhOw901e7xTRwElwTP1bMWEb49-JUOdzObg4_sD4paSwp76t2GVIkRQ3zCJ7Ap9hgVMxNB5gdGmkWLpC4RNCidl/s640/DSC06286.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Revolution is nigh</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And so I conclude the blog posts entitled 'American Adventure.' It was a wicked trip, varied exciting and fun. Although I have to say it's nice to be out of the land of eternal unnecessary tipping and back at work! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/40/F99883611425AE6A5141DF7AC0E11765.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></span></div>
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