So, I still can't talk about all the stuff that's been going on. It's weird though, it's like all my friends are just pulling together to make me feel great. Most don't know that I'm dealing with some doo doo; yet it's like the heavens or the Holy Ghost or the interconnectedness of us all has taken pity on me.
I get a call at the end of a long Friday as I'm pulling out of the school parking lot (yeah, my car has bluetooth, how cool is that? I actually talk to people through my car and its speakers); do I want to go out to dinner at the Tee-off? Saturday another call, do I want to go walk the dogs on the beach? Last week, a package arrived from England; a good friend there had packed up (and boy did he do some packing!) four bottles of Crabbie's Alcoholic Ginger Beer, and mailed them to me. From England, people! Somehow, they got through, and I'm rationing them. Totally a surprise and very cool.
I'm going to a wine festival next Saturday, and then an overnight at a spa with my two friends. They gave me the spa treatment for my birthday. So very very cool.
My students for the most part are very sweet; I can't complain about their behavior (well, not about most of them), and I so do enjoy working with the other folks in my department.
But you don't want to hear about this, do you? You want the dirt.
Not going to do it here. Can't. Damage-that-I-can't-undo if I did.
However, what I am noticing is balance. When ca-ca happens, so does the good stuff. For me, it's the friends. I'm not so down that I don't see how wonderful one part of my life is. No, there are some massive communication troubles (not on my part, I've never been known to be...how you say... tight-lipped about something that's bothering me), that are upsetting me right now, but at the same time, there are these little bright spots that keep me from wallowing. Oh, I have a good cry about once a day, as one does, but then I get on with it.
I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be secretive here. What I'm trying to say is that it's evening out. This poop that I'm dealing with? Not my doing. It landed in my lap, and now I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of it, but I've not lost sight of the big picture.
Most of the time, it's a good one.
{I just counted. The word "I" is repeated 26 times. Narcissistic much?}
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Angry woman
I can't post about anything right now. I'd come off as a raging female canine and don't want to do that. I'm angry about so many things; is that part of coming home? Where is the place I can rant without it being out there forever?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Early in the morning
I know it. I'm going to be one of those old people who go to bed at 7:30 at night and get up at three or four in the morning.
I'm already up at five. Five am! What is up with that? Not much to do then; what did early risers do before the Internet?
Ah well, here I am. Had a great weekend with some friends from my Pilgrim Pines camp days. Now, when anyone has bad things to say about Facebook, I tell them my story.
See, Pilgrim Pines is and was a very special place. I started going in the summer of 1975, when I was a junior camper. It was a church camp, but the United Church of Christ (not to be confused with the Church of Christ) has always been leading the way for social justice Christians. Those of you that lump all Christians into the hellfire and damnation and narrow-minded category, do a little research. Not all of us are neo-conservatives, nor do we think all others should think exactly as we do. Even in the 70's, we were at the forefront of acceptance. The idea is that God doesn't judge, and neither should we. I know, that goes against what many of you think of when you hear the word "Christian." I've even heard the term "Christianist" to describe the hateful, judgemental way of the neo-conservatives. That bugs me. Please don't lump me in with them.
Anyway, I digress. Social justice is what my church has been about. The church camp was no different, and it had a big influence on my life. I went on to work at the camp as a lifeguard, and made some deep friendships. Later, I went to Japan to teach at a Christian girl's school (Kobe Jogakuin), because of connections made at camp.
As I got older, I lost touch with most of my friends from those times. We all got on with our lives, marriages, children, and all that. I'd hear of someone now and then, but really, didn't know where most of us had ended up.
Enter Facebook. Someone started a page for "Pilgrim Pines from the 80's." My sister found it, and told me, and here we are today. There are over 225 members, and no, I don't remember all of them, but wow, it's been great catching up. I went to a reunion last year; a beach day, and it was great. Yes, we've all changed in the last 25 years, but wow, we ended up pretty spectacular people. So many of us have ended up in careers in which we help others. Teachers, social workers, speech therapists, volunteers. We give back. Some are involved in church life and others like me, not so much.
So, my sister decided it was time to go back to where it started. An overnight at Pilgrim Pines. Yucaipa, California is about 200 miles away from Santa Barbara. It's a drive. A long drive for a less-than-24-hour stay. But wait, there were folks who came from Redding and Oakland. One couple from Houston, Texas. That's how important this place is.
She set it all up through Facebook. We sent her money, we got the reservation, and once again, we were together in that special place.
Talking to people, I realized how many challenges have been in our lives since we were 18 or 20 years old. Cancer, death, divorce... difficult stuff. Things that are rare when you've just become an adult, but become (sadly) more commonplace as one hits the halfway point of his or her life.
Yet, there was a hope, an optimism that still seemed to be a part of my friends. I didn't feel from anyone a sense of giving up, or even of cynicism. No one seemed beaten down, even though there were tough times for some. There was a feeling that if I needed help, it would be there. Just because that's the way it was. Friends help friends. Even if we'd lost touch, the reason we liked each other all those years ago hadn't changed. It wasn't because we were all in the same place at the same time, or liked the same football team, or we had all grown up together; it was because basically, we were good people. How corny is that?
But it's the truth.
I'm already up at five. Five am! What is up with that? Not much to do then; what did early risers do before the Internet?
Ah well, here I am. Had a great weekend with some friends from my Pilgrim Pines camp days. Now, when anyone has bad things to say about Facebook, I tell them my story.
See, Pilgrim Pines is and was a very special place. I started going in the summer of 1975, when I was a junior camper. It was a church camp, but the United Church of Christ (not to be confused with the Church of Christ) has always been leading the way for social justice Christians. Those of you that lump all Christians into the hellfire and damnation and narrow-minded category, do a little research. Not all of us are neo-conservatives, nor do we think all others should think exactly as we do. Even in the 70's, we were at the forefront of acceptance. The idea is that God doesn't judge, and neither should we. I know, that goes against what many of you think of when you hear the word "Christian." I've even heard the term "Christianist" to describe the hateful, judgemental way of the neo-conservatives. That bugs me. Please don't lump me in with them.
Anyway, I digress. Social justice is what my church has been about. The church camp was no different, and it had a big influence on my life. I went on to work at the camp as a lifeguard, and made some deep friendships. Later, I went to Japan to teach at a Christian girl's school (Kobe Jogakuin), because of connections made at camp.
As I got older, I lost touch with most of my friends from those times. We all got on with our lives, marriages, children, and all that. I'd hear of someone now and then, but really, didn't know where most of us had ended up.
Enter Facebook. Someone started a page for "Pilgrim Pines from the 80's." My sister found it, and told me, and here we are today. There are over 225 members, and no, I don't remember all of them, but wow, it's been great catching up. I went to a reunion last year; a beach day, and it was great. Yes, we've all changed in the last 25 years, but wow, we ended up pretty spectacular people. So many of us have ended up in careers in which we help others. Teachers, social workers, speech therapists, volunteers. We give back. Some are involved in church life and others like me, not so much.
So, my sister decided it was time to go back to where it started. An overnight at Pilgrim Pines. Yucaipa, California is about 200 miles away from Santa Barbara. It's a drive. A long drive for a less-than-24-hour stay. But wait, there were folks who came from Redding and Oakland. One couple from Houston, Texas. That's how important this place is.
She set it all up through Facebook. We sent her money, we got the reservation, and once again, we were together in that special place.
Talking to people, I realized how many challenges have been in our lives since we were 18 or 20 years old. Cancer, death, divorce... difficult stuff. Things that are rare when you've just become an adult, but become (sadly) more commonplace as one hits the halfway point of his or her life.
Yet, there was a hope, an optimism that still seemed to be a part of my friends. I didn't feel from anyone a sense of giving up, or even of cynicism. No one seemed beaten down, even though there were tough times for some. There was a feeling that if I needed help, it would be there. Just because that's the way it was. Friends help friends. Even if we'd lost touch, the reason we liked each other all those years ago hadn't changed. It wasn't because we were all in the same place at the same time, or liked the same football team, or we had all grown up together; it was because basically, we were good people. How corny is that?
But it's the truth.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Day one down, 179 to go
It's going to be a good year, I can feel it, but dang, does it have to be the hottest day of the summer on the day we go back to school?
Did I ever tell you about how they fixed the heat problem in my classroom?
Several years ago we had an extended heat wave in May. I get sun on two sides of my classroom, and since it's cinderblock, when it heats up, it stays heated up.
I had seen that my room had been at 92-93 at eight in the morning two days in a row, getting hotter as the day wore on. It was impossible to teach anything to students who were almost comotose, and when I was ready to pass out myself. I asked if there was anything to do, perhaps get the fans that worked with the heater to work independently from it? You know, to at least move the hot air around?
Well, they sent a guy from the district office to come in and take care of it.
He removed the thermostat.
Yeah, we are problem solvers here. Can't see the temperature, then it must not be that hot. Right?
Anyway, I'm in the hot room in the house, because I have to write two example poems. Used to be a time I loved this stuff. Now I just want to sit in a cold bath. Or a cold pool. Or an air-conditioned car. Doesn't that sound good?
Okay, back to work.
Still haven't decided what to do about this blog.
Did I ever tell you about how they fixed the heat problem in my classroom?
Several years ago we had an extended heat wave in May. I get sun on two sides of my classroom, and since it's cinderblock, when it heats up, it stays heated up.
I had seen that my room had been at 92-93 at eight in the morning two days in a row, getting hotter as the day wore on. It was impossible to teach anything to students who were almost comotose, and when I was ready to pass out myself. I asked if there was anything to do, perhaps get the fans that worked with the heater to work independently from it? You know, to at least move the hot air around?
Well, they sent a guy from the district office to come in and take care of it.
He removed the thermostat.
Yeah, we are problem solvers here. Can't see the temperature, then it must not be that hot. Right?
Anyway, I'm in the hot room in the house, because I have to write two example poems. Used to be a time I loved this stuff. Now I just want to sit in a cold bath. Or a cold pool. Or an air-conditioned car. Doesn't that sound good?
Okay, back to work.
Still haven't decided what to do about this blog.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Perhaps it's time
So, the year is over. I'm no longer in the purple house, and wonder if I should retire this blog.
This is open to everyone, and there are things I'd like to say that perhaps everyone doesn't want to hear. This is not the place, even though man, I've got some rant inside me now. Major rantage.
But no, it's all positive, sunshine-y, happy day stuff here.
Not interesting, I know.
What to do? I'm waffling.
This is open to everyone, and there are things I'd like to say that perhaps everyone doesn't want to hear. This is not the place, even though man, I've got some rant inside me now. Major rantage.
But no, it's all positive, sunshine-y, happy day stuff here.
Not interesting, I know.
What to do? I'm waffling.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Boring Car Purchase Post
So, there are still bags all over the living room floor, and I've not even started to look at all the crap stuff I have in storage. That will happen after I get back from Vegas.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I'm home.
(count how many times I use the word "best")
Did this last year really happen?Luckily, G. picked me up at 7 in the morning to drive me to Heathrow and help me schlep my bags to the check-in counter. We did a bit of walking too; we went to terminal 3 when we were supposed to be at terminal 1. Oops. We had time for breakfast though, and I was really glad to have someone with me at the end (Thanks G. And no, it wasn't only the help with my luggage).
There are photos of me on Facebook with all my bags. It's weird that it's so much stuff, and yet I had to weed out all kinds of things to get it down to the six bags. Most people only had two or three bags. I don't know how they did it.
Got home at midnight after my brother and his wife picked me up at LAX. By the time I went to bed, I'd been up 27 hours, with only three hours of sleep the night before. Talk about jet lag.
I woke up Monday in my house, in my bed. Weird. No phone, no car, no computer. I was without a way to communicate, and that was double weird.
A friend came over with sunflowers; "I just couldn't wait!" and gave me one of the best hugs ever. It was a good start.
Mom drove me around all day, got my phone, picked up my computer, hooked up my internet and... PICKED UP CHARLIE. That was the best. God, I missed that little dog. He was cautious at first, and then jumped up on me like, "Where the heck have you been?" Auntie K. and Uncle T. took the best care of him while I was gone. Good people. The best. I don't know how to thank them properly. A gift certificate to a nice restaurant is what I'm thinking... but is it enough?
Yesterday I got the car rented (so I can drive around and look at cars to... eek... buy), went to lunch with sunflower friend, and shopped at Trader Joe's. I've been dreaming of the hand-tossed tortillas and the Gnocchi Gorgonzola for a year now. Got home, put the food in the fridge, hey, wait a minute. Why isn't the light on?
The electricity had been shut off. I'm home 36 hours and poof, no electricity. Guess the grace period has shortened. Call the company, and nope, won't be able to get it turned on until today. "Anywhere between 8 am and 5 pm" I was told. Great.
Bought a 20-pound bag of ice, put it in the fridge and hoped for the best.
Today, ran a bunch of errands, because well, with no power, there's no computer. And, lucky me, my sim card somehow got erased, and I've lost all the phone numbers of everyone who was in my address book, so I can't call anyone either. Argh.
Got home around 12:30, and there is the Edison truck. I get out and holler, "did everything go okay?"
No answer. I start walking toward the truck and it starts to leave. I wave my hands, "Wait! please wait!" and start running down the driveway after it...
As I watched from the end of my driveway, he drove away down the street. As expected, he checked the wrong meter, so I still had no electricity. Joy.
After two more calls, I finally got hooked up this evening. Of course, hanging around the house alone is not what I wanted to do this afternoon, but at least I have power.
I've not had time to think about what it's like to be home.
Ask me tomorrow.
Love,
Rebekah
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
On Packing Up and Moving Out
- I have too much stuff.
- A car would really help right now.
- A beer would taste really good right now.
- I don't remember it being this difficult last year.
- Does one really need all these things?
- Wouldn't it be easier to just buy all this stuff when I get back home?
- With four days to go, is it a silly idea to buy eggs?
- There is a lot of leftover taco seasoning here (my mom sent me 13 packages).
- What am I forgetting?
- Who can I give my extra airmail stamps to?
- I sure buy a lot of post cards.
- My ankle hurts.
- How am I going to pack my mugs so they won't break?
- Where is my friend Mo to help me with all of this (she's really good at it, just 5000 miles away)?
- Shouldn't I get off the computer and get back to work?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Pay Attention
You know, after I wrote the last post on Sunday, I went out to run some errands. Errands on a Sunday take a bit of time. See, the buses run much less often, so it has to be factored into the trip. Stores also close early (around 4 pm), if they open at all, so the few hours of shopping time are completely packed with people.
Anyway, caught the W8 into Enfield Town, bought some sudafed and two boxes of Kleenex for my head cold (which is still lingering on) and some Ibuprofen for my headache. Got some sweets for my students for the last two days, spoiled myself with some scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam from Marks & Spencers, and started making my way back to the bus stop. The plan was to go home and mark papers for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Because here you see, in England, Year 10 students (would be 9th grade back home) have something called coursework. This coursework is required. They can't skip it and take a bad mark. They complete six pieces of this during the school year, or one piece of writing every six weeks. Or they are supposed to.
They don't. I got the first three pieces from most of them, and then they just turned off. It's been a major fight to get the rest of their work in before I leave. Of course, lots and lots of papers came in the week before school let out. How I was supposed to mark all of them was beyond me. I was feeling horribly guilty because I knew I wouldn't get it all done. I would have put a very good dent into it on Sunday, however...
I fell down. Running for the bus, which was already at the bus stop, I did a spectacular drop. I tripped on the pavement/sidewalk, and went over. My right ankle (which I've messed up twice before in the last 15 years) rolled under in a way that ankles are not supposed to bend. After two very loud shouts of a bad word, two people came over to see if I was alright. I was sure I broke my ankle, but you know... embarrassment? "No no... I'm okay... could you just help me up?"
Limped over to the bus stop, where of course the bus had left just a minute before, and sat down. I leaned over to put my bags on the ground, and then I was on the ground. Yep. Fainted. So charming when out alone in public. No one was at the bus stop, so no one helped this time. Those who saw me probably thought I was on drugs.
Got the next bus, limped back home, put my foot up with a bag of frozen raspberries, and thought, "Hmm... that really, REALLY hurts. I should probably go to A & E (stands for "Accident and Emergency") and get it checked out. Because you know, if I didn't go, the next morning my foot would be swollen up like a balloon. So I called a friend for advice, called a cab, and went to the hospital.
Three hours and an x-ray later, I did not have a broken bone. Possibly a torn tendon (what I did last time), a compression sock, and that's about it. Could I go to work? Well, it might be very painful tomorrow morning. Yes, but it's the last two days, can I go to work? You are a teacher right? You stand all day and when you sit it's with your feet on the floor under your desk? It could really swell up. Yes Doctor, but will I injure myself more if I go in? No... I don't think so.
See, I'm kind of used to doctors telling me yes or no for stuff like this. You know, or "light duty only" or something like that. It was really hard to get a straight answer out of him.
Anyway, I hobbled out to the bus stop, got the bus home again, and put my foot up with some more frozen food.
And I didn't get any marking done at all. Major guilt, especially when the teacher taking over my class made it clear he did not want any of the papers from this year left over for him for next year. Gah.
But then, I went to school yesterday to do more work. I know, school is out, but still, wanted to leave things as tip top as possible. I realized, alone in the department on the first day of vacation, at 3:30, that most teachers have the same problem as I do, but they have the same students for two years (year 10 and 11). They've gotten papers late, but they can mark them over the summer, or even the beginning of next year. I can't, because I'm leaving. I still feel guilty, but not as totally horrible as I did a couple of days ago. It's been quite a ride, that's for sure.
And now, gimpy and with a sinus infection, I'm leaving for Dublin this afternoon. Why oh why did I leave my Netty pot at home?
Anyway, caught the W8 into Enfield Town, bought some sudafed and two boxes of Kleenex for my head cold (which is still lingering on) and some Ibuprofen for my headache. Got some sweets for my students for the last two days, spoiled myself with some scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam from Marks & Spencers, and started making my way back to the bus stop. The plan was to go home and mark papers for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Because here you see, in England, Year 10 students (would be 9th grade back home) have something called coursework. This coursework is required. They can't skip it and take a bad mark. They complete six pieces of this during the school year, or one piece of writing every six weeks. Or they are supposed to.
They don't. I got the first three pieces from most of them, and then they just turned off. It's been a major fight to get the rest of their work in before I leave. Of course, lots and lots of papers came in the week before school let out. How I was supposed to mark all of them was beyond me. I was feeling horribly guilty because I knew I wouldn't get it all done. I would have put a very good dent into it on Sunday, however...
I fell down. Running for the bus, which was already at the bus stop, I did a spectacular drop. I tripped on the pavement/sidewalk, and went over. My right ankle (which I've messed up twice before in the last 15 years) rolled under in a way that ankles are not supposed to bend. After two very loud shouts of a bad word, two people came over to see if I was alright. I was sure I broke my ankle, but you know... embarrassment? "No no... I'm okay... could you just help me up?"
Limped over to the bus stop, where of course the bus had left just a minute before, and sat down. I leaned over to put my bags on the ground, and then I was on the ground. Yep. Fainted. So charming when out alone in public. No one was at the bus stop, so no one helped this time. Those who saw me probably thought I was on drugs.
Got the next bus, limped back home, put my foot up with a bag of frozen raspberries, and thought, "Hmm... that really, REALLY hurts. I should probably go to A & E (stands for "Accident and Emergency") and get it checked out. Because you know, if I didn't go, the next morning my foot would be swollen up like a balloon. So I called a friend for advice, called a cab, and went to the hospital.
Three hours and an x-ray later, I did not have a broken bone. Possibly a torn tendon (what I did last time), a compression sock, and that's about it. Could I go to work? Well, it might be very painful tomorrow morning. Yes, but it's the last two days, can I go to work? You are a teacher right? You stand all day and when you sit it's with your feet on the floor under your desk? It could really swell up. Yes Doctor, but will I injure myself more if I go in? No... I don't think so.
See, I'm kind of used to doctors telling me yes or no for stuff like this. You know, or "light duty only" or something like that. It was really hard to get a straight answer out of him.
Anyway, I hobbled out to the bus stop, got the bus home again, and put my foot up with some more frozen food.
And I didn't get any marking done at all. Major guilt, especially when the teacher taking over my class made it clear he did not want any of the papers from this year left over for him for next year. Gah.
But then, I went to school yesterday to do more work. I know, school is out, but still, wanted to leave things as tip top as possible. I realized, alone in the department on the first day of vacation, at 3:30, that most teachers have the same problem as I do, but they have the same students for two years (year 10 and 11). They've gotten papers late, but they can mark them over the summer, or even the beginning of next year. I can't, because I'm leaving. I still feel guilty, but not as totally horrible as I did a couple of days ago. It's been quite a ride, that's for sure.
And now, gimpy and with a sinus infection, I'm leaving for Dublin this afternoon. Why oh why did I leave my Netty pot at home?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
I hate drama
Not that there is any in my life, but wow. Everyone (including me) has their own idea of how things should be done.
People that know me, know that the "Well, if it was me..." argument just drives me up the wall.
You aren't me.
It's an odd time right now for me. The past year has gone so quickly, and I'm only realizing now how very diffferent my life has been for 11 months. Actually 11 months to the day I left for London.
Yes, the house and school and my lifestyle has been different, but I've been different on the inside too. I've been able to be selfish. Not worry about anyone else's wants, needs or desires. I do what I want, when I want, and how I want. How easy it would be to be absolutely set in my ways.
Last year at this time, I was so excited about my exchange; what would it be like? Would I make friends? Would I do a good job? What would I learn? What would I see? Where would I travel?
Now, it's back home. I miss my family, my friends, my Charlie-boy... I'm ready to be with them. I'm ready for my life to be easier too; from washing my clothes to taking a shower to getting to work. Work itself is easier. So much easier. Not just because I'm used to it, but because I'm required to do less than British teachers. I've been astonished at the amount of work expected of teachers here. More work with more student contacts, more lessons/classes to plan, and much less planning time. Yikes.
However.
Every time I want to see a show, or go to a 600-year old church or see a world-class museum (for free no less!), I hope on the train or the subway, and I'm there. I've not taken it for granted, but I've gotten used to it. Santa Barbara is beautiful, and I love it; I don't want to live anywhere else right now, but... it's not a big city. It doesn't have an endless amount of things to do and see. I love the beach. Have missed it terribly at times here, but exciting it's not.
Maybe that's it. My life, for better or worse, has certainly not been boring this year. At school I've heard people say that "The only people who get bored are boring themselves." It sounds like something my friend Torn would say. There's also the Chinese curse about "May you live in interesting times."
It's a fine balance between interesting and difficult. No, my life has not been difficult here, but definitely challenging at times. As I'm getting ready to go now though, I'm a little nervous. Have I changed at all? Will this just become a memory that a few people hear me talk about once in a while? Will I bore people with my stories? Will I be like that character on Friends who comes back from England talking about her mobile phone and her flat with a horrid English accent?
Okay, don't worry about that. Even after a year, I can't mimic a British accent to save my life.
What have I learned from this year? What will I take back with me?
I can't answer that yet.
People that know me, know that the "Well, if it was me..." argument just drives me up the wall.
You aren't me.
It's an odd time right now for me. The past year has gone so quickly, and I'm only realizing now how very diffferent my life has been for 11 months. Actually 11 months to the day I left for London.
Yes, the house and school and my lifestyle has been different, but I've been different on the inside too. I've been able to be selfish. Not worry about anyone else's wants, needs or desires. I do what I want, when I want, and how I want. How easy it would be to be absolutely set in my ways.
Last year at this time, I was so excited about my exchange; what would it be like? Would I make friends? Would I do a good job? What would I learn? What would I see? Where would I travel?
Now, it's back home. I miss my family, my friends, my Charlie-boy... I'm ready to be with them. I'm ready for my life to be easier too; from washing my clothes to taking a shower to getting to work. Work itself is easier. So much easier. Not just because I'm used to it, but because I'm required to do less than British teachers. I've been astonished at the amount of work expected of teachers here. More work with more student contacts, more lessons/classes to plan, and much less planning time. Yikes.
However.
Every time I want to see a show, or go to a 600-year old church or see a world-class museum (for free no less!), I hope on the train or the subway, and I'm there. I've not taken it for granted, but I've gotten used to it. Santa Barbara is beautiful, and I love it; I don't want to live anywhere else right now, but... it's not a big city. It doesn't have an endless amount of things to do and see. I love the beach. Have missed it terribly at times here, but exciting it's not.
Maybe that's it. My life, for better or worse, has certainly not been boring this year. At school I've heard people say that "The only people who get bored are boring themselves." It sounds like something my friend Torn would say. There's also the Chinese curse about "May you live in interesting times."
It's a fine balance between interesting and difficult. No, my life has not been difficult here, but definitely challenging at times. As I'm getting ready to go now though, I'm a little nervous. Have I changed at all? Will this just become a memory that a few people hear me talk about once in a while? Will I bore people with my stories? Will I be like that character on Friends who comes back from England talking about her mobile phone and her flat with a horrid English accent?
Okay, don't worry about that. Even after a year, I can't mimic a British accent to save my life.
What have I learned from this year? What will I take back with me?
I can't answer that yet.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Who pulled the rug out?
God.
Three days left of school. Two more days and I'm off to Dublin. Four days and I'm back here. Six more days until I'm back in California. Nine more days to Las Vegas. And then three days and I'm back to work.
Shortest summer ever.
With the most to do.
Argh.
Three days left of school. Two more days and I'm off to Dublin. Four days and I'm back here. Six more days until I'm back in California. Nine more days to Las Vegas. And then three days and I'm back to work.
Shortest summer ever.
With the most to do.
Argh.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Not too much tonight
I'm actually here in the house tonight; I'm cleaning and getting ready for the folks from the English department to come over for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Oh no, I'm not making a roast... I'm making Jambalaya, cornbread, salad, and for dessert? Watermelon, lime juice and mint salad. It's so good! Better when it's hot out and I don't have three hundred thousand papers to grade, but still. Very simple recipe, but it's really sweet and refreshing and healthy for you. Now, the original had Feta cheese in it, but trying that once was enough. There is too much of a good thing you know.
Made my reservations tonight to go to Dublin in July. It will be my last trip before I go home. Whoo hoo! Home. Lots to do before I go, and it won't be like last year when I had weeks and weeks of summer to get things done. Nope. Last day of school is the 20th of July, I go to Dublin from the 22nd to the 26th, and then five days later? I'm winging my way back home to Santa Barbara.
{Side note here. I had about three more paragraphs written, and just hit some button and lost it all. How did I do that? Not my whole post, just the second half of it. I hoped that it had automatically saved it, but no. Now, what did I write?)
Oh, I know, it was about all the things I had to do before I left. One of which is ending my contract with theminions of Satan Virgin Media. I had to sign up for a year-long contract, although I was told I could pay it off before I left. Now, it took almost three months just to get through to someone and get it started (so I only started the contract in October), but that wasn't the worst bit. I didn't actually have a working internet connection until January, if you all recall. Oh yeah, and it means I will have to call them, which you might remember gentle reader, cost me about 40 pounds being on hold and having my calls to their service center dropped, the last time I tried calling them. I so very much hate that company and the way they do business.
Let's see... the year 10's did two exam papers last week; between 5-8 pages each. Then my year 7's took a writing exam, that's 100 papers. Found out with the Year 7 paper though, that we're using a different marking scheme than what we normally use, with three areas to be marked. You know, like grading it three times. Year 8's, of course, but that's only 20 students, and then my year 9's will be taking their writing exam on Wednesday. It's another 5-pager. Oh, and marks are due starting Tuesday; we have one week to get our marks on the school computer system. Yes, you read correctly, we are giving a written exam actually after we are expected to start entering grades. And the exams ARE their year end grades.
I may pass out.
But Rebekah, you ask, doesn't your school end in another month? Why do you have to be finished with your student's marks so early?
Frankly, I don't know. We also have our summatives (year end reports) due for our form classes by the 30th of June as well. About three paragraphs each for 25 students. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to that. I'm sure there is a reason for all this, but I've not been privy to it.
See, this is why I almost didn't post tonight; whining, complaining, whinging, moaning... who wants to read that?
Sent my mother's birthday present off to her today. Still haven't sent my sister anything. Poo. She wouldn't give my any clues on things she might like from London/England, and when I go into a shop, I go into brain-lock trying to figure out what she would like. I pick something up and then put it back. "Will she like this color? This scent? The shape of it?" I convince myself that whatever it is, she won't like it, and then I buy nothing. I've never had this problem before. I'm good at gifts usually. Not this time. Sister, if you're reading this, help me out. Do you like vanilla? Lavender? cookies, chocolate? Tea? Do you like dangling earrings or beaded necklaces? What colors do you wear most? What size are you?
Made my reservations tonight to go to Dublin in July. It will be my last trip before I go home. Whoo hoo! Home. Lots to do before I go, and it won't be like last year when I had weeks and weeks of summer to get things done. Nope. Last day of school is the 20th of July, I go to Dublin from the 22nd to the 26th, and then five days later? I'm winging my way back home to Santa Barbara.
{Side note here. I had about three more paragraphs written, and just hit some button and lost it all. How did I do that? Not my whole post, just the second half of it. I hoped that it had automatically saved it, but no. Now, what did I write?)
Oh, I know, it was about all the things I had to do before I left. One of which is ending my contract with the
Let's see... the year 10's did two exam papers last week; between 5-8 pages each. Then my year 7's took a writing exam, that's 100 papers. Found out with the Year 7 paper though, that we're using a different marking scheme than what we normally use, with three areas to be marked. You know, like grading it three times. Year 8's, of course, but that's only 20 students, and then my year 9's will be taking their writing exam on Wednesday. It's another 5-pager. Oh, and marks are due starting Tuesday; we have one week to get our marks on the school computer system. Yes, you read correctly, we are giving a written exam actually after we are expected to start entering grades. And the exams ARE their year end grades.
I may pass out.
But Rebekah, you ask, doesn't your school end in another month? Why do you have to be finished with your student's marks so early?
Frankly, I don't know. We also have our summatives (year end reports) due for our form classes by the 30th of June as well. About three paragraphs each for 25 students. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to that. I'm sure there is a reason for all this, but I've not been privy to it.
See, this is why I almost didn't post tonight; whining, complaining, whinging, moaning... who wants to read that?
Sent my mother's birthday present off to her today. Still haven't sent my sister anything. Poo. She wouldn't give my any clues on things she might like from London/England, and when I go into a shop, I go into brain-lock trying to figure out what she would like. I pick something up and then put it back. "Will she like this color? This scent? The shape of it?" I convince myself that whatever it is, she won't like it, and then I buy nothing. I've never had this problem before. I'm good at gifts usually. Not this time. Sister, if you're reading this, help me out. Do you like vanilla? Lavender? cookies, chocolate? Tea? Do you like dangling earrings or beaded necklaces? What colors do you wear most? What size are you?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Finally got myself to York
What a great city. I really didn't have the time to go; although the end of school here is July 20th, I have to have all my final marks in by June 29th. I also have to write 25 Summatives, or year-end reports, for all the students in my form (like a homeroom class) by June 30th. We are giving timed writing exams to all our students for the end of the year as well as their classwork assignments. That means I will have one week to mark about 160 papers from my students from ages 11 - 15. I've been told another teacher is going to help me out, but I am still rather crazed thinking of what lies ahead. Oh, and I leave for a four-day end meeting for Fulbright in Edinburgh (you know, in Scotland?) on hmm... what day? Oh yeah, Wednesday the 29th.
It's overwhelming and I've been stressing heavily about it. What do we do those last three weeks? I actually don't know. I've been told that lots of students leave early so their families can go on holiday early, but three weeks? argh. The consolation is that I won't have to worry about things as much after those early deadlines pass.
Back to York.
This is York Minster. My crummy little camera doesn't do it justice, but it was impressive. It's so huge! And you know, about three times as old as my country. Puts things in a bit of perspective, don't you think? It took 250 years (15 different kings ruled during this time) to build it.
What's so fascinating about it is that there was an Anglo Saxon church, and a Norman church on this site, going back to the 7th century. History man, history.
Of course, there are lots of other churches there. This next one doesn't look too extraordinary, does it?
I was on top of a double-decker bus when I took this photo, and I'm sorry it's got the bar running right through it. Do you see the main entrance at the left side of the church? That's where the people would come in to worship, or get married or to christen a child. But wait, see the small door to the right of the middle of the church? That was the devil's door. It was only opened briefly, right after a child was baptized. It was to let the devil (because of original sin, the devil was in every child, of course) out of the church. It would be closed again very quickly so he couldn't get back in.
Wait, there's more. Even though the bar is running right over it, can you see the tiny double windows near the bottom of the church on the right? Those are Leper's Squints. There were a lot of people back then with Leprosy, and they weren't allowed in the church to avoid infection, but they were still expected to worship. They would be able to watch the service through the "Squint" and stay outside at the same time. Again, this history thing? pretty cool.
Here we are. I didn't ask permission from M. to post this, but since she's hiding behind the shades, I'm hoping it's okay. Got to be careful and all. We took a bus tour, and the weather cooperated, which was nice. You just never know what's going to happen. Makes packing a pain, that's for sure.
That's it. More like an alleyway than a proper street, but the name is funny.
I liked York.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Half term break
This week has been great, with its share of annoyances.
Saturday I left for Kyiv (or Kiev, or however it is you feel it should be spelled). I loved it, but the visit was far too short.
It's a beautiful church behind me, right? Well, yes and no. Yes it's beautiful, but it's no longer a church. It's used for storage. Even though it's not been a communist country for almost 20 years, this lovely place is used as a giant garage.
The main market is on the Andriyivskyy Descent; a very steep, and cobblestoned street. It was Kyiv Days, so it was more croweded than usual. Some of the women there wear heels I'd have problems just standing still in, yet they navigated these streets with ease.
I love the nesting dolls. As a child, one of my aunts brought one back from her travels, and I remember it very well. I could look at it on the table, but I wasn't to play with it too much. It was too special. Yes, technically they are Russian, not Ukrainian, but still...
We went to a traditional Ukrainian (read"Catering to tourists") restaurant, and it was delicious, but I got a kick out of one of the offerings:
No, I didn't order it, but it sure made me giggle. I would have really liked to see what it was though.
What was really nice about the trip as well, was just being with an American family. Just like at Christmas with S and T in Vienna. J and P and their two kidlets are a typical family in a very atypical setting, yet it felt like home. I think that's how it must be for a lot of foreign service workers with spouses and children. As a single person, I don't notice it as much until I'm around a family.
Okay, so it was a quick visit, and I was back on Tuesday. Wednesday night, very late Wednesday night, my friend H who is another Fulbright teacher here in England, came over to spend the night. She was in London to see an opening of an art exhibit, and thought she'd be to my house by nine or ten. Hah. At a quarter to one she rolled up in a taxi. Even tipsy though, she's one of my favorite people. She's truly interested in everyone she meets, and hanging out with her is easy and comfortable. There's no rules I have to follow or topics I have to avoid, or actions I'm not allowed to take. I've met a few folks in the last few years that say they want to be friends, but only on their terms. I just want to be myself; and not have terms and conditions for the friendship. Anyway, H is a good one.
We took a three-hour (which turned into a four-hour) boat trip down the Thames to Hampton Court on Thursday, and it was a beautiful day. The suntan lotion did its job except where I missed; the tops of my feet are still quite red. We raced around Hampton Court, and then came home and ordered Indian food. I will never get tired of that stuff. I know I'm going to miss it terribly when I go.
Yesterday, we went to Kew Gardens, but only for a short time because we were meeting another teacher from my school to go to the Museum of London. Sheesh. Do you get the feeling that I'm running around, trying to get in all my cull-cha before I go? You're right. I really have a short time left at this point and I don't want to miss anything.
It was another beautiful day, and after the museum we walked all over the south end and over to Covent Garden... definitely ready for a pint or two at the end. And I discovered a new favorite adult beverage:
Crabbie's Alcoholic Ginger Beer.
Wow. Yummy yum yum. So tasty on a hot afternoon. We hung out, had a few drinks and then decided it would be fun to take the bus home. Hm... perhaps not the best choice on a Friday night, but still.
It's light here until almost 10 o'clock now, so it's always rather surprising to look at my watch and find out it's bedtime rather than dinner time.
And that's what time it is now folks. I know... this wasn't a post, it was a list. Sorry about that. I could complain about how my paycheck still has not been issued, and that it's a week late, and that I only get paid once a month, and how I am not one of those people who have six months worth of salary in savings, and how I'm getting charged an obscene amount of money to use my overdraft account, but that would be boring, wouldn't it?
So I won't. Have a good rest of the weekend people!
So I won't. Have a good rest of the weekend people!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sunny with spells of rain
Sunday morning. I got up early (I can’t help it, the sun comes up now just after 5 am), and got some laundry in. Thought I’d get the sheets done on the line, since I don’t have a working dryer. Everything else is okay, but there’s no where to hang sheets. Of course, two hours after I hung them up, it started raining. I was just glad I hadn’t left the house yet. Now I’ve got sheets draped over things in the house.
I miss having a dryer. Here, it seems people are more frugal; most have a clothes line or clothes “horse” to hang things on. Jeans, socks and towels, those are the ones that just don’t get soft unless they are tumbled dry. Maybe I’m just spoiled. There is a dryer here, but it’s broken; it heats up but doesn’t spin. Ah well. I have discovered the magic of laundry conditioner. It certainly helps.
Yesterday I was writing a letter to my mother, and listed 10 things I’m looking forward to when I get home in August.
1) Charlie (but you all knew that anyway)
2) Stores open later than 5:30 pm
3) Mexican food
4) Showerheads attached to the wall
5) The beach
6) Going to Outback Steakhouse with my mom
7) Phone calls to businesses that don’t cost 60 cents a minute
8) Hanging out with my friends
9) Warmth
10) Trader Joe’s
Then I thought of 10 things I will miss when I leave England.
1) Indian food
2) Boots. They have EVERYTHING there.
3) Students who hold the door open for me
4) steak, stilton, and potato pasties (I miss these already since Morrison’s stopped carrying them)
5) My new friends
6) Tea break
7) The tube
8) Prescriptions that never cost more than ten dollars
9) The markets
10) Dinner and a show for 20 pounds
Oh, and you teachers out there? The US teachers? Shut up already on Facebook about having only 15 days left of school. I still have over two months.
Bitterness.
I miss having a dryer. Here, it seems people are more frugal; most have a clothes line or clothes “horse” to hang things on. Jeans, socks and towels, those are the ones that just don’t get soft unless they are tumbled dry. Maybe I’m just spoiled. There is a dryer here, but it’s broken; it heats up but doesn’t spin. Ah well. I have discovered the magic of laundry conditioner. It certainly helps.
Yesterday I was writing a letter to my mother, and listed 10 things I’m looking forward to when I get home in August.
1) Charlie (but you all knew that anyway)
2) Stores open later than 5:30 pm
3) Mexican food
4) Showerheads attached to the wall
5) The beach
6) Going to Outback Steakhouse with my mom
7) Phone calls to businesses that don’t cost 60 cents a minute
8) Hanging out with my friends
9) Warmth
10) Trader Joe’s
Then I thought of 10 things I will miss when I leave England.
1) Indian food
2) Boots. They have EVERYTHING there.
3) Students who hold the door open for me
4) steak, stilton, and potato pasties (I miss these already since Morrison’s stopped carrying them)
5) My new friends
6) Tea break
7) The tube
8) Prescriptions that never cost more than ten dollars
9) The markets
10) Dinner and a show for 20 pounds
Oh, and you teachers out there? The US teachers? Shut up already on Facebook about having only 15 days left of school. I still have over two months.
Bitterness.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Post 41
I actually do have a lot to say, but don't seem to get it down. Not a lot of good excuses for it. Oh, like right now, I have a pretty incredible headache, or lately I've been getting heartburn like you wouldn't believe... these things happen when I get stressed. Why am I stressed you ask? Because there is not enough time in the day to do my job well. I plan for four different levels and I'm finding it impossible to plan for them all at the same time. Most other teachers here have five or even six levels they teach, so I can't complain, but still. I will plan out some fabulous lesson for year 10, and then realize I've not made the copies for my year 8 class. And the marking? Good god. Although homework is only assigned once a week here, the marking is amazing.
No more complaining right now. The high today was a balmy 48 degrees. In May.
Oh wait, that was going to be more complaining, wasn't it?
Okay, here's something, This weekend, I got together with some friends I met in Japan. When I was 24, I signed a contract to teach English for three years in Nishinomiya, Japan. It was one of the best decisions I've made in my life. Living as an absolute foreigner, one who is pegged the moment she is seen as "other," actually did change my life and my outlook on it.
However, I sure had fun. Being that there were so few westerners there, perhaps around a thousand in our 20's, teaching English, having adventures, we had a pretty tight-knit community of English speaking "Gaijin."
S was from Ireland, P from Canada, and J from the east coast of the US. I even went on P and J's first date, not knowing it was supposed to be a date. They got married and now live in the Ukraine where they both work for the embassy. S married a Japanese man, and they live back in Dublin now.
Anyway, we had a reunion of sorts. S flew out and stayed with me the past two nights, and P and J and their two kids are in England for a 10-day vacation (they lived here for several years as well).
It is amazing sometimes, when we look back. I've not seen S since 1993, and P and J since 1995; we've all taken different paths, lost touch with each other for periods of time, and yet last night, eating take-out indian food, and drinking (far too much) white wine, we had a ball. Yes, we're all in our 40's now, yes, we all have responsibilities now, but we're still the same. We still get along, we still laugh and laugh and laugh.
As much as I complain, I have a blessed life. I really do. I have friends all over the place, from all different parts of my life, and yet they are the kinds of friends who last. Last summer, I got back in touch with a pile of friends from the summer camp I used to go to and then lifeguarded at when I was in college. They are all good people. We all met up at the beach just before I left for England, and again, I was touched by how lucky I am. There are so many lovely people in my life, who have been in my life, and will continue to be in my life... new people from this year in Enfield too.
No, I don't have a family of my own. Not the one I fully expected to have when I was 21 or even still hoped for at 30. I won't give birth to my own children. But I do have a family. These people, all over the world, are my family. Do I wish things were different? I can't answer that. Would I have to give up one for the other? Perhaps. My life is what it is. Right now? It's a pretty good one.
No more complaining right now. The high today was a balmy 48 degrees. In May.
Oh wait, that was going to be more complaining, wasn't it?
Okay, here's something, This weekend, I got together with some friends I met in Japan. When I was 24, I signed a contract to teach English for three years in Nishinomiya, Japan. It was one of the best decisions I've made in my life. Living as an absolute foreigner, one who is pegged the moment she is seen as "other," actually did change my life and my outlook on it.
However, I sure had fun. Being that there were so few westerners there, perhaps around a thousand in our 20's, teaching English, having adventures, we had a pretty tight-knit community of English speaking "Gaijin."
S was from Ireland, P from Canada, and J from the east coast of the US. I even went on P and J's first date, not knowing it was supposed to be a date. They got married and now live in the Ukraine where they both work for the embassy. S married a Japanese man, and they live back in Dublin now.
Anyway, we had a reunion of sorts. S flew out and stayed with me the past two nights, and P and J and their two kids are in England for a 10-day vacation (they lived here for several years as well).
It is amazing sometimes, when we look back. I've not seen S since 1993, and P and J since 1995; we've all taken different paths, lost touch with each other for periods of time, and yet last night, eating take-out indian food, and drinking (far too much) white wine, we had a ball. Yes, we're all in our 40's now, yes, we all have responsibilities now, but we're still the same. We still get along, we still laugh and laugh and laugh.
As much as I complain, I have a blessed life. I really do. I have friends all over the place, from all different parts of my life, and yet they are the kinds of friends who last. Last summer, I got back in touch with a pile of friends from the summer camp I used to go to and then lifeguarded at when I was in college. They are all good people. We all met up at the beach just before I left for England, and again, I was touched by how lucky I am. There are so many lovely people in my life, who have been in my life, and will continue to be in my life... new people from this year in Enfield too.
No, I don't have a family of my own. Not the one I fully expected to have when I was 21 or even still hoped for at 30. I won't give birth to my own children. But I do have a family. These people, all over the world, are my family. Do I wish things were different? I can't answer that. Would I have to give up one for the other? Perhaps. My life is what it is. Right now? It's a pretty good one.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Time for a sacrifice?
Okay, so my friends are here. Great, right? Well, sort of. See, they came to visit for the second week of my Easter break. One was supposed to go home Friday, one Saturday. They're still here.
Right now, the weirdest thing is that no one knows how long the ash from the volcano will continue to hang about above the UK and Europe. A is scheduled to go home on Wednesday now, and B is scheduled for Tuesday. Whether or not that will happen is anyone's guess.
Both have children, and both would really like to get home to them. Like a hundred thousand other people who are stranded here or there. Maybe that's exaggerating, but the number gets bigger every day. At my school, we have teachers who went to the States, and to Hong Kong and other places in Europe for their two-week holiday; I don't know how many got back before Thursday when all this started. How many teachers can be gone from a school? And why did't I go somewhere to get stuck as well? I'm just saying.
What I'm finding interesting, is how many people are saying to my friends. "Wow, you get extra days! How great! Enjoy yourselves!"
Except, there's this feeling of uncertainty; what's the best thing to do? We hear on the news that this could be going on for months. No one knows what's going to happen. Should they try to take a coach and a ferry and a train to Spain to catch a flight from there? What if the ash reaches Spain before that, and they get stuck there? At least here, they have a place to stay, and don't have to spend extra money. should they try to book passage on a boat? That's silly... isn't it? I mean, this will clear up at the end of the week at the latest, right?
Or not.
It costs about $1600 and takes seven days to take a ship from here to New York, and then there's the flight home to California after that. Is it ridiculous to consider that as an option? Will that be the only option?
We have another friend who went to Prague on business, and is stuck there, and A's teenage nieces are stuck in Germany somewhere. These are just my friends from the states who can't get home.
Of course, the weather today is fabulous, and my friends are out enjoying it the best they can. I'm here. I have papers to mark. I'd planned to mark them yesterday and today, since they were supposed to already have left.
Interesting times.
Right now, the weirdest thing is that no one knows how long the ash from the volcano will continue to hang about above the UK and Europe. A is scheduled to go home on Wednesday now, and B is scheduled for Tuesday. Whether or not that will happen is anyone's guess.
Both have children, and both would really like to get home to them. Like a hundred thousand other people who are stranded here or there. Maybe that's exaggerating, but the number gets bigger every day. At my school, we have teachers who went to the States, and to Hong Kong and other places in Europe for their two-week holiday; I don't know how many got back before Thursday when all this started. How many teachers can be gone from a school? And why did't I go somewhere to get stuck as well? I'm just saying.
What I'm finding interesting, is how many people are saying to my friends. "Wow, you get extra days! How great! Enjoy yourselves!"
Except, there's this feeling of uncertainty; what's the best thing to do? We hear on the news that this could be going on for months. No one knows what's going to happen. Should they try to take a coach and a ferry and a train to Spain to catch a flight from there? What if the ash reaches Spain before that, and they get stuck there? At least here, they have a place to stay, and don't have to spend extra money. should they try to book passage on a boat? That's silly... isn't it? I mean, this will clear up at the end of the week at the latest, right?
Or not.
It costs about $1600 and takes seven days to take a ship from here to New York, and then there's the flight home to California after that. Is it ridiculous to consider that as an option? Will that be the only option?
We have another friend who went to Prague on business, and is stuck there, and A's teenage nieces are stuck in Germany somewhere. These are just my friends from the states who can't get home.
Of course, the weather today is fabulous, and my friends are out enjoying it the best they can. I'm here. I have papers to mark. I'd planned to mark them yesterday and today, since they were supposed to already have left.
Interesting times.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Back, and in one piece
So, we all got back in one piece. Two seperate trips to the hospital emergency room, five stitchs for one leg, one extended nosebleed, and vomit less than a mile away from the school, but we all got back. I could have slept for 12 hours; I forgot that 12-year-olds can and will stay up all night if they can. Sheesh.
Much fun was had by all, but man, was it cold? Dang. Spring, my foot. Yesterday was 63 degrees and I thought I was in heaven. I really thought things would be warming up by now...
Yesterday, I went to Camden Town to see the markets. On my way to the train, I see this sign:
I don't know why I like it so much. Something old-fashioned about it.
Rode the train, rode the tube, and got off at Camden Town Station. I don't know why I didn't take any pictures of the shops or the markets themselves. The streets reminded me of funky stores in Los Angeles/Hollywood; lots of vintage clothing and tattooing and piercing places.
At lunch, I ate my falafel overlooking the water:
It was so nice to sit outside and feel the sun's warmth. Of course, I was wearing an undershirt, long-sleeved t-shirt, a sweatshirt and a denim jacket, but still...
Lots of fun little trinket-y things for sale, but all I got was a scarf (really pretty, lots of colors) for four pounds and some touristy London stuff to send to my friend's little girl for her birthday. If I'd been here in my 20's, the place would have been cleaned out.
Then, as I rounded a turn in the market stalls. I saw a woman sitting on a bench in a kind of a shelter, with her feet in a tub.
It was those flesh-eating fish! Only dead flesh, mind you, but flesh all the same.
Of course I had to do it. Just for the story and photo opportunity:
(Okay, I know, my hair is really short. Not my intention. Drinking before getting your hair cut is not a good idea. It'll grow).
So I smiled for the camera, but was grossed out a bit too. And why were they so hot for my ankles? The dry skin is on the bottom of my feet, and my heels. Very strange.
Much fun was had by all, but man, was it cold? Dang. Spring, my foot. Yesterday was 63 degrees and I thought I was in heaven. I really thought things would be warming up by now...
Yesterday, I went to Camden Town to see the markets. On my way to the train, I see this sign:
I don't know why I like it so much. Something old-fashioned about it.
Rode the train, rode the tube, and got off at Camden Town Station. I don't know why I didn't take any pictures of the shops or the markets themselves. The streets reminded me of funky stores in Los Angeles/Hollywood; lots of vintage clothing and tattooing and piercing places.
At lunch, I ate my falafel overlooking the water:
Lots of fun little trinket-y things for sale, but all I got was a scarf (really pretty, lots of colors) for four pounds and some touristy London stuff to send to my friend's little girl for her birthday. If I'd been here in my 20's, the place would have been cleaned out.
Then, as I rounded a turn in the market stalls. I saw a woman sitting on a bench in a kind of a shelter, with her feet in a tub.
It was those flesh-eating fish! Only dead flesh, mind you, but flesh all the same.
Of course I had to do it. Just for the story and photo opportunity:
So I smiled for the camera, but was grossed out a bit too. And why were they so hot for my ankles? The dry skin is on the bottom of my feet, and my heels. Very strange.
Don't look at how my calf resembles a tree-stump, look at the fishies! The weirdest bit was when they were trying to get between my toes. Odd, odd, odd. These little guys are banned in at least 15 states because of health issues (the water is not changed between people, bacteria might grow, are the fish treated humanely, etc.), but I took my chances.
On my way home, I stopped in Enfield Town to buy some nylons (why is it I hate nylons, but don't mind tights? And did you know that over here, they're all called "tights?" Yep, nylons, hose, stockings, tights... all the same word), and check out the charity (thrift) shops for books to read. Got five of 'em (books, not tights), and I was a happy camper. This is the corner where I wait for the W8 bus:
I love how weathered it is.
Hopefully, I will fare better, and that word won't be used to describe me when I come home this August.
Be well.
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