Do I have something on my face?

Do I have something on my face?  

(A blog about getting attention)  

Growing up I was always a pretty shy kid. In new situations I would always shy away from people and be very quiet. I wish I had been a more outgoing and carefree child. When I'm teaching, it's always the bubbly energetic kids that are always the most fun in class. Of course there's a limit, but it is much better than sitting quietly and not taking part. Therefore I now try to encourage this trait, of being outgoing, energetic and enthusiastic, in all my students. From ages two to twenty-two, I love finding new ways of helping them overcome being shy. Life is so much more fun when you don't worry about what other people think of you, when you don't worry about making a mistake, when you just do what you want!!!  

Now, there is a big difference to being outgoing and enthusiastic, to wanting attention. Sure a bit of attention is great, we all crave it. Of course there are "those" people, who want or need constant attention, who need to be the centre of the universe all the time. They possibly crave fame. I asked my university students this week if they would prefer to be rich and famous, or just rich. I got mixed responses of course. But when one of them approached me after class, and wanted to know what my answer would be, it really made me think.....  

I like being noticed just as much as everybody else. It makes me feel good when somebody pays attention to me, especially if I want this person to pay attention. Being a teacher comes with a lot of attention, as your students, often large classes will spend each day giving you their undivided attention (I would like to think so anyway). Teaching is a form of public speaking, which if you had asked me to do or pursue a career in, a few short years ago, I would have most certainly laughed in your face. But now look at me, I spend each day in front of a class of students of all ages. Strange how our minds can change about things.  

I love the new, more outgoing and enthusiastic me. University of course helped me overcome my shyness. Working as a waiter, serving different people every night helped too. And of course living and working in foreign countries, constantly living and working with new people, drastically help extinguish most of my shy personality. I would recommened these options to anybody who feels like they are too shy, and long to be more outgoing, carefree, enthusiastic.....and a little mad!!!  

But like I said, this doesn't mean I've become one of those people who want the entire world to know me, or watch me.  

I have come to live and teach in China, and I am now four months into my just over five month experience here. And out of all the culture differences, the strange food, the rapidly changing weather.....the one thing I actually cannot get used to, is the attention I get every day. Now, granted the city I am in doesn't see too many foreigners walking around on a daily basis. But that fact lost it's affect on me, three months ago. Everytime I walk down a street, or take the bus, or walk around the university campus.....all heads turn to me, and glance, and stare, and continue to stare. I stare back (thinking if they see that I've noticed, they might stop). They continue staring. It's so strange. It often results in a very weird stare-off, which makes no sense. It can be funny at times. But when you've had a bad day, and you're on an over-crowded bus, on your way home from a long day at work.....the last thing you want is to look up from your phone and see a bus full of people staring at you, as if they were at a zoo, and I was some exotic animal. It can be creepy.  

Of course, like I said it can often be funny. Usually the funny times are when I am noticed by kids, who sometimes react in such utter shock or surprise, that they just stand there with their mouths wide open in amazement, until I have completely disappeared from view. Yesterday as I was on a bus I take every week, a young baby in her mother's arms, spent about ten minutes staring at me once she caught sight of me. Before this she had been crying non-stop. Everyone else on the bus noticed her staring at me, and found it amusing, as did I. And when I got off the bus I could hear the baby starting to cry again. It was a strange experience to say the least.  

But when it's an older adult, or a group of people, and they're all staring in a sort of "what are you doing here" kind of manner, it's more upsetting than funny.  

So this week as I explained to this university student how I didn't think I'd like to be famous, because of my experience of getting attention in China, he told me he had a solution for me. I thought to myself, this is interesting, and how nice and helpful this student is being to stay after class and give me this advice. He thought me a phrase in Chinese, got me to repeat after him, and told me when I want people to stop staring at me just say this phrase to them. Then I asked him to write it down for me, so I can remember it later when I'm walking home and instead of wondering "if there is something on my face", I can repeat my new phrase. He wrote it down in Chinese characters, which as cool as they look, have no meaning to me whatsoever. I asked him next to translate my new phrase into English, to which he replied with a grin, and a mischevous laugh before leaving;    

"Don't make me hurt you"

An Unlikely Friend

An Unlikely Friend
(A blog about alcohol)  

Alcohol. My friend. My enemy. You lift me up when I am down, and bring me down (and I mean really down) after being up. We've had a bumpy journey together.  

I was one of those "good" students while at school. I was one of the top in my class, quiet and never missed a day of school. I always did my homework on time and always answered the teachers questions (goodie-two-shoes.....a bit). I went to school, went training after school, then dinner, homework, and bed. My everyday routine. This was my routine for almost all of my schooling life. Until...  

At the end of my second-last year of highschool, something clicked in my brain, and for some reason I no longer wanted to follow this routine any more. Call it my teenage rebellious stage perhaps. It was perfect timing though.....just in time for my final year and exams (to the delight of my parents, as I'm sure you can imagine). I "retired" from sports, and instead began spending my time going out at the weekends with my new best friend.....Alcohol!  

To be fair, I did basically wait until I was 18 to start drinking. Now I'm not saying that I'm some sort of saint (maybe I am), but compared to most of my peers, this was an extremely late start. Nonetheless it was a start, and what an amazing year it would be. Although it still involved hours, endless hours, of studying, those few free hours each week were the best I'd ever had. I went from having very little school friends to having too many friends, and not just from school, but from other nearby towns too. I started working part-time in an Italian restaurant (a place I now think of as my second home.....as I spend more time there than my own home). I started becoming best friends with my co-workers, and their friends. My new best friend, Alcohol, encouraged me to make friends, to talk to people and to not be afraid of what other people think. We had it good.  

When I started university, Alcohol did too. We became even closer friends. We started hanging out two or three times a week. Being friends with Alcohol allowed me to be more confident, in everything. This firstly became very clear to me when, one morning my university friend phoned me up and said " I didn't know you could speak Italian". Now, I was in my first year of studying the language, and I knew full well I couldn't speak it (or so I thought). But my friend went on to explain how the night before, she had me a group of Italians in a que for a nightclub, and she for some reason remember I was studying Italian, and that it would be funny to put me on the spot, so she phoned me. Now I too had been out on the town that night, with my best friend Alcohol of course, and when I answered the phone I was somehow, magically, able to manage a fifteen minute conversation in Italian with these people. Alcohol.....you're amaazing!!!  

Surprise surprise.....it wasn't an isolated incident. When I first moved to Italy, my spoken Italian was very poor. I could understand it pretty well, but I really lacked the confidence to return conversation. Then me and my friends would crack open a large bottle (or two) of really cheap (and surprisingly delicious) red wine. We'd head out into the warm, paved Italian streets at night, and somehow we became fluent speakers of the local language. So much so, that one afternoon, as my friends and I were enjoying an open-air lunch on some random, bustling Italian street, we heard a sudden and rather loud shriek of excitement. A young Italian woman, about our age, or a little older (and who I still to this day have little to no memory of meeting) came running over to our table, hugging and giving us the traditional two-cheek kiss, like we were old, long-lost friends. She explained (after noticing the utter confusion on our faces) that we spent an entire night, recently, with her and her friends, speaking in Italian.....of course. Now I remembered hanging out with a group of people that night, but I had believed the conversations to be flowing in boring old English. Alcohol.....what is this magical potion?  

But alas, it would be a lie (a rather large lie) to say that my good friend Alcohol is always just an outstanding, good influence. No, unfortunately with all the the good, comes an equal (if not more) amount of bad. During my final year of highschool, while Alcohol and I were making countless new friends, I wasn't as studious as I had previously been, and as a result I did not achieve the required grade to be accpepted to my number one choice, of university. And while we were off at university being confident and speaking Italian by night, my grades continued to not meet the expected outcome, and I eventually ended up having to repeat an entire year of university, simply because I did not pass two small modules. There were also a few of those nights (very few thankfully), that I had little to no memory of what happened, a feeling which always left me feeling afraid and ashamed. Something had to change...  

At this point in my life, I realised that it was time for me and Alcohol to spend some time apart. We of course didn't cut all ties (now I couldn't do that to any friend, I'm not a monster), but we only saw each other on rare occasions for a while. And to be honest, I got so much done. I felt better, happier, and a lot more productive. I took control of my life, in much simpler terms.....I grew up.  

I have no regrets. As I've said before, I'm a big believer in " Everything happens for a reason", and if it hadn't of been for Alcohol, I probably wouldn't have gone to Italy, made so many amazing friends that I have today, and I probably wouldn't be sitting here today, half way across the world in China, telling you all about it. So thank you Alcohol, you're a great friend. But we don't need to hang out all the time. They say that one glass of red wine a day with a meal is actually really good for you. We can can do this I think. We've grown up now. Thanks for all the ups and downs!!!

Who needs breakfast anyway?

Who needs breakfast anyway?

(The first in a series of blogs about cultural differences)

Culture? What does it mean?

A few years ago, my local “big city” was named European capital of culture for a year. It seemed like such a big deal at the time. There were posters, banners, events and everything. But I had no idea what exactly it was we were celebrating or demonstrating? What is culture?

I guess at school we were taught that culture is a country or regions way of life, its lifestyle, its history...basically its personality (well at least that’s what I understood as a kid, I don’t know about you). So how would you really describe culture? Are there really that many different cultures out there in the world? What’s so different about one culture and another? And what makes a person cultural? (It’s a lot of questions, but these are the questions I always asked, and to be honest, still often ask).

From my experience, the only way to get the answers to these difficult questions is to just go and find out for yourself, and the only way to do that is go explore and venture into other regions and countries and experience for yourself, first-hand, what defines culture and the differences between the many diverse examples.

Prior to this present year, I had only travelled within Europe to such places as Italy, Spain, Greece, France and Belgium (to name a few). Now they say (I really want to know these “they” people, always so wise) that Europe is the most cultural continent. And to be honest it probably is, at least it has the most varied amounts of different cultures anyway. Almost every country in Europe has its own language, and until recent years its own currency. Throughout Europe you experience a wide variation of climates, different histories, and a wide range of different forms of head of states including; kings, queens, presidents, chancellors, prime ministers etc.

I absolutely adore travelling around Europe, experiencing these incredibly beautiful places, observing and learning from their different ways of life, their cultures.

Food of course, is such a major part of a country’s culture (And who am I to complain about trying so many new and delicious foods). But it’s not just the literal food that differs, but also the way we eat. For example, at home in Ireland, I have always been brought up being constantly told, that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. My teachers would tell me that without a big breakfast you cannot concentrate in class during the day. It made sense I guess, it was the way things were done. However, I then began a three-month adventure in Italy, living each week in the home of a different Italian family. Now of course this experience allowed me the perfect, first-hand, insight into Italian culture, and to experience as one of the family their everyday way of life. But imagine my surprise when I arrived downstairs to the breakfast table each morning, to find that breakfast involved a few biscuits (often chocolate) and a coffee. Where’s the big bowl of cereal? Where’s the toast? How will I survive the trials of the upcoming long day? At first I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. However my host-families were such amazing people, they did their research. Each family would always ask me what I liked to have for breakfast, pointing out the fact that it was different there. I remember one family in particular asked me if I liked toast, bacon, egg, sausage, yogurt etc. Now of course I replied that I did (I wasn’t going to lie). However, the next morning, when I arrived downstairs to the breakfast table ready to join my latest family for this hefty morning feast, imagine my surprise when I realised this feast was only made for one, me. It was a little awkward, and I felt bad that they went to all this trouble just for me. Italian families are SUPER NICE (why do you think I keep going back every summer). But after a couple of mornings of persuasion, I convinced them I didn’t need all this food, and that once was enough, there was no need to spoil me each morning. I was perfectly happy enjoying the same simple breakfast that they would have. And to be honest, that wasn’t a lie. To my surprise I quickly became accustomed to this new breakfast lifestyle. I think it may have something to do with the warmer climate, and quite possibly have something to do with the fact that Italians tend to eat the biggest meal of the day, dinner, later at night, so by morning you’re still full, and it’s too hot to want to eat anything so early anyway. I became so used to this breakfast ritual that I have never been fully been able to adapt back to the big breakfast routine. Its’ funny isn’t it, how such a little cultural difference can affect someone’s entire eating habits. Who needs breakfast anyway? When you can have lunch in a place like in the photograph bellow!!!

After spending a total of nine months in Italy over a two year period, I was influenced in many ways by the culture. Along with basically giving up breakfast, my language improved dramatically (Living each week with a different Italian family, some of whom have little to no English, kind of forces a person to improve their spoken Italian. I loved it). Then come the gestures. Italians are famous worldwide, for their countless, amount of hand gestures. They’re a passionate people, and this is how they express it. Only days after arriving home in Ireland after my first summer in Italy, my friends and family began questioning why I was throwing my hands around in the air, like a mad man, while talking. I hadn’t even noticed. What’s happened to me? Am I now one of these cultural people, infected by a different culture. If so, I like it, I need more.

And this is one of the reasons I am currently halfway across the world in China!!!

Life of "The Noble Maggot"

Life of “The Noble Maggot”

So, what does your name mean? Believe it or not, this is a question I get asked on quite a regular basis here in China. Until recently I always answered that it has no meaning, or I have no idea.

Here, everyone has two names. Firstly their given Chinese name. Which as if weren’t confusing enough, they go ahead and put their surname first, and then the given name. But that doesn’t really make a difference to me, because the sound that comes out of their mouths when they tell me their names, is beyond impossible to repeat. But I do try!!! I always ask them to repeat what they have said...twice...but only twice. You should never ask someone to repeat more than twice. Three times is just rude, or gives away that you are some sort of idiot (I’m really not). So after all this awkwardness, I’m eventually told “But you can call me... (insert random English word)...” Yes that what it appears to be. Now to be fair, there are plenty of Mikes, Marks, Lucys, Alices etc. And to be honest I much prefer the Candys, Angels, Yoyos and Stars. They’re much more interesting and different. I hate normal.

But then there are some that are just hilariously brilliant. And by brilliant I mean really cool but maybe not the best name for a human child. The following is my;

 TOP 10 UNUSUAL KIDS NAMES:

1.  Hero (Now who would not like to be called Hero. But there’s going to be a lot of pressure to live up to).

2. Robot (Very funny kid, and there were moments during the class that I was almost convinced that this was more than a name. He was an extremely hyper kid, too hyper to be human)

3. Sky (Now this is a name I actually am now obsessed with, and if I were to change my name, I think it would definitely have to be to Sky. It sounds like a really cool surfer dude type name...yeah I think that would suit me)

4. Bubble (I’m a bit biased with this name as this kid in particular is just awesome. He is the kid I mentioned in a previous Blog who advertises for my English classes in his free time, mainly while on the bus. Also, when he first came to class his name was Kimmy. Now as cool and different this is for a little 4 year old dudes name, I’m glad he changed it to Bubble)

5. Ace (I actually gave this kid his name. I was asked to give him an English name, and on that particular day I was in such a rush, so I quickly scanned the room and noticed a pack of cards, and hence the name Ace. Turns out Ace is like my one of my favourite students, along with Bubble of course)

6. Barbie (Yeah...no comment)

7. Microwave (I personally never got to meet the infamous Microwave, but he was all the rave at my China orientation)

8. Goblin (One of the first kids I met in China, I actually couldn’t stop laughing at this name, but a really clever kid...no resemblance of a goblin though)

9. Vampire (Some of my elder students tend to also have strange names, and also have a strange obsession with full black contact lenses...leaving me to question the literalness of this Vampire girl)

10. Tiger (another cool name really, and another awesome kid. Arrived into class one day with a t-shirt covered in tigers, however did not make the connection when I tried it out)

So you can imagine how interested parents are in their children’s names. So much so when I first started teaching at this one school, it was many of the kid’s first experience having a foreign teacher, so they hadn’t had an English name before. Now who do you think got the honour of giving all these children their new names? Yes of course, this lucky guy right here.

Now the comedian in me wanted to give all my students names like Banana, Toilet and Sandwich. But then I realised after naming the kids, I would be asked for the meaning of these precious names. And how do I really explain to a mother that I have just named her only son...Toilet?

So then I had the idea of naming each child after a member of my family and friends, just for laughs. No that probably would have ended up being very confusing. Yeah, I don’t think those will work. Instead, there have been names such as Ace, Bubble, Skip, Rose, Tom, Ben, Jessie, Stone, and so on! It’s a tough job. There’s a lot of pressure in naming a child, and usually the parents just stand there staring at me, like they expect me to have this endless list of meaningful children’s names, ready to present and know exactly which one suits their child. I feel like they expect me to be like that wand shop guy in Harry Potter (The name will choose the child). Yeah...it doesn’t work like that guys! As if!!!

I think it’s just weird how there will be all these kids that will grow up with these names, that I have given them. I’m like some sort of God, bestowing on them a life-long name. Or, they’ll just ask someone else for a new name next year. Names seem to be items that can be casually mixed and matched here.

I think it would be cool to have two names though. So of course when I was offered to be told what my Chinese name would be, and what it means, I jumped at the opportunity. The result (As you can see from the adjoining picture) is “Warrior, Thunder, Ideas”. Now that’s an awesome meaning. From now on I will tell people this.

But strangely enough, after telling a friend of mine, the situation of being constantly asked the meaning of my own name, he got back to me after finding out the answer to this long sought after question, and informed me that my name is supposed to mean strength. That’s pretty cool (I don’t know why I never thought to simply, Google my name....come on Brian). So after searching Wikipedia myself, I learned that my name possibly means “high” or “noble”. Well I must be of high nobility to be able to have the power to give names to children at random, right?

However as I scrolled the page I came across another meaning of my name....”maggot”. Yes, apparently I am a noble maggot. Who know my name had so many “interesting” meanings.

Do you know the meaning of your name? Go find out!!!...anything interesting?

I think I was happier just thinking my name had no meaning. Or else that it means whatever I make it mean. However I decide to represent it. Yes, that will be my names meaning. And if that doesn’t work out, then I can always change my name to Sky!!!

Excuse me waiter, but my food won't stop staring at me!!!

Excuse me waiter, but my food won’t stop staring at me!!!

A few months ago, as I was preparing to depart for China, the main thing people would tell me was “You will lose so much weight”. Now firstly, this immediately left me thinking that all of my friends and family believe I have weight to lose!!! Apparently I’ve packed on the pounds during my university years. Maybe I chomped down on a few too many pizzas during my spell in Italy?!!

No, I didn’t think I had weight to lose. But it’s not the first time weight has come up in conversation to me in the last year or so. For the past year or so before I came to China, this customer that frequented the restaurant I waited at, would say the same thing to me every time he walked in the door (perhaps once every two months); “Brian, have you lost weight? You look great!” Now...I realise this is a compliment, but where does this weight that apparently I once bore, keep going? And if every time he comes to the restaurant I have lost more weight, what is going to be left of me soon!!!

Everyone said I would be living off rice. Stereotypical much?!!...well it’s not completely far from the truth. Yes, I find myself eating a lot of rice these days. But I’m also eating so much other things, some of which I don’t know how I will live without once I return home, but alas, some of the food I’ve tried or simply seen here, I will be happy in the knowledge that it won’t be following me home!...or will it???

One of the more disturbing/hilarious meals I’ve experienced since arriving in China left me thinking the possibility of it following me home is quite literally possible. Luckily for us foreigners who speak little to no Chinese, many of the restaurants here have these massive photographs of each dish on one wall of the restaurant, with the prices written in the corner, so as all you have to do is simply point to the photographs which grab your attention and off you go to your table! Now on this particular day, we were still new to China, and were craving a bit of chicken. After recently learning the Chinese word for chicken we were delighted when we saw it written above a rather mouth-watering photograph. After eagerly pointing at it, along with another few pics, we made our way to our table to await our feast. Here in China people share food. A group of people will order a number of dishes, and everyone will pick and mix their way through the lot (another way of life I expect it will be weird to go change back from). So we were all in this chicken adventure together, there was no going back now...

First came the veggie dishes, then the rice. We started nibbling, knowing too well that the best dish was still to come. Or was it?!! It arrived, this massive mountain of diced chicken. Our mouths were watering. We dug in!!! The first sign that something wasn’t right was when I noticed a bone in my piece of chicken. Oh well, it’s a piece of bone, no harm done. But then as one of my friends reached for another piece and pulled it away...we all saw it. Right there, under our beautiful pile of chicken, was lovely Mr Chicken's FOOT!!!! I’m pretty sure we all just sat there in shock and disbelief first, thinking there surely must be some sort of mistake here. But no, that’s how the dish comes. None of us could touch that plate again (But it does make for a good “remember the time when...” story).

A not as bad a story from one of these restaurants, rather a “just why” story, involved me thinking one of the photographs was cheesy potatoes (I really miss cheese...they don’t tend to use a lot of dairy products here). But of course, of course, I was mistaken. They were potatoes, just not covered in delicious melted cheese, but coated in caramelised sugar and sprinkles, all neatly piled on top of a bed of prawn crackers. Why China, just why?!!

Now coming to China you hear stories of bugs, beetles, crickets, scorpions etc. Surely that isn’t a thing. Oh yes it is. However I don’t think the Chinese (at least not most of them anyway) actually eat these things themselves. They’re more of a tourist attraction. And being the ultimate tourist myself, we had to take a trip to the local “weird things to eat” street in Beijing, the very first week we arrived. Some of the people in the group tried all sorts; bugs, scorpions...seahorse (that was a weird one...poor seahorse). Not for me. It was actually the smell of the street itself that put me off these local delicacies, or at least that’s what I told myself. But, I couldn’t be the chicken of the group. So I was convinced to try...snake! Yes, I did it, I ate snake. SHOCK HORROR!!! It actually just tasted like steak. No major UUUUGGGGHHHH moment there. But at least I can say I tried something from that weird street (I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, oh well). It sure beats the chicken foot anyway!

Meat in the supermarkets and from the BBQ restaurants or stalls always freaks me out. We tend to stick to the restaurants or stalls we know have the good meat (We have I’ll admit reached the stage at which we all agree, if the meat is good, then why question it). However I will not go near something that resembles a recently skinned animal that has the power to return my stare of disgust as I eat it. Chicken heads are an actual, legitimate delicacy here. You see them on the photographs in the restaurants, hanging from the BBQ stalls in the streets.....everywhere. They see you coming. It baffles me, how someone could eat one. I still haven’t seen one actually being eaten, and I don’t know if I want to either. No no, if something arrived on the table in front of me and returned my gaze, I’m afraid I’d have to say sorry and decline (To the waiter, and possibly to whatever it was that would be staring back at me from the table).

So going by these accounts, I should have lost a lot of weight, right?!! Between all of that and finding Seaweed flavoured Pringles yesterday it would seem impossible not to have. Well to be completely honest I have. Either that or my jeans are somehow magically getting bigger. They have begun to slip down, and I resemble those “dudes” you see with their trousers around their knees, proudly displaying their underwear. It’s not the style for me I think.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t like the food here. Far from it! These accounts only tell the story of a very small portion of what China has to offer me for my dinner. Firstly, I honestly do not know how I am going to survive back home without what me and my housemates have so creatively named, “Food on a stick”. There are a certain type of restaurants here (they also come in convenient stall that pop up in the street by our house), that serve their food barbequed on sticks. Every Wednesday evening we get together with some other teachers and eat at one of these stick places. We get different meats on a stick (no chicken), spicy and covered in sauce bread on a stick, mushrooms (what are apparently mushrooms anyway) on a stick, onions wrapped in tofu on a stick, and potato on a stick. All of this was barbequed, by a man outside on the street, in front of the restaurant. I LOVE IT!!!

Then there are all the little things. Like my recent find...Pocky! I’ve suddenly become addicted to these biscuit like sticks that are coated in what to me tastes like different flavoured white chocolate (yes I know my description doesn’t make sense, but I can’t read Chinese to explain to you what they really are). Anyway my favourite flavour until today was mango flavour. But then today, they were out of mango (probably because I’ve bought them out), so I had to try a new flavour, and that’s when I saw them...BANANA AND CHOCOLATE flavour. Two of my favourite things (as anyone who has known me since I was a child knows, I love banana and Nutella sandwiches). So I’m addicted, and I’m going to have to stock up for the flight home (family, expect your souvenirs to be eaten before I get home...it’s a long flight).

So between these, food on a stick, chopsticks and sharing dishes, I honestly have no idea how I am going to adjust back to having my very own meal served to me on a plate, with a (what do you call them again?) fork and knife. It’s going to seem so unnatural. Good thing I got my own personal set of chopsticks to bring home and ease my way back into it...and I really do miss cheese!!!

A day in the life of my life in China (A series of selfies)

A day in the life of my life in China (A series of selfies)

Today, as one of my housemates and I both had a day off from work, we decided to go and wander around the city. We both needed some cheering up and to get out of the house after working a lot lately and also both kind of also dying from unknown illnesses a few weeks earlier (maybe nearly dying is a bit of an exaggeration). So we got ready, ate some fruit and headed outside...

First stop was the little park outside our apartment building, which literally in the last week, has magically transformed from a grotty square patch of dirt, to an unrecognisable garden in which we can get lost in. Right in the centre is a small stone table and chairs, where the locals (i.e. not us) hang out, chat and play some weird sort of board game. Like the oddballs we are, we stood in front of them taking selfies on our phones of the neighbourhood happenings. As we walked along the street to the bus stop, we realised the street looked completely different. And it wasn’t just that street. The entire city, I swear, looks completely different to what it did a week ago. The weather in the past couple of weeks has gone from snow to hot hot times, from people wearing ten layers of clothing to shorts and t-shirt. It’s mindboggling! And, as much as I love the instant summer, it may have been the cause of the recent illnesses. A small price to pay I guess.

We get on the bus, which is thankfully quite empty. The buses here are not the most pleasant of experiences. There aren’t many seats, and they are almost always full. People are packed in like sardines, and to top it all off the bus drivers are lunatics. The buses jolt and twist all over the place. I swear this one time as I was walking through the bus I was going in one direction, the bus suddenly went in the other, and for a brief moment I was mid-air, defying gravity. It didn’t feel right, let me tell you that (my housemates found it hilarious though). So today, as per usual on the buses, as we don’t speak the local lingo quite so well, we weren’t so sure where to get off, to get to this park we had heard about. As we were driving past it we noticed of course, but luckily the next stop was right then.

We found the park eventually, after avoiding the recently dug foundation of what surely can only be a stadium, we made our way through the twisting paths, taking photographs of every second tree (Trees in China are so much cooler than at home). Crossing a little bridge over not the best smelling river, I noticed that the riverbed was paved. Who has time to pave an entire riverbed?!! Bit odd really. We wandered on and found the centre of the park, the true park, an open area of green surrounded by beautiful trees, and families enjoying the beautiful sunny day. However the Chinese tend to not like the sun, at least not on their skin anyway, so they enjoyed it from under the shade of those beautiful trees I told you about. Meanwhile, enter the foreigners. We of course, happy as ever to find this awesome patch of green to take in some sunshine and get to work on the tan, meandered through, stopping to take a few selfies, and noticing a few dozen eyes, curiously staring our way of course. This is one of the things I cannot get used to here in China.

THE STARING!

Every time I walk down a street, get on a bus, eat in a restaurant or go shopping.....the entire place turns and stares. I’m such amazement to them. It can be amusing; however it can also be a little creepy. They don’t just stop when you catch them staring, they continue, and often take a sneaky photo, thinking you don’t notice the camera in the phone, peeping out behind their hand. I thought I would get used to it, but I guess not, oh well. At least I know now that I would hate to be famous, the attention would drive me insane.

As we were exiting the park we noticed a man crouching in the trees. At first we thought maybe that he was doing some cool Chinese exercise (and no he wasn’t taking a number two in the bushes). We didn’t know what he was doing. His suit jacket was hanging on a tree next to him, and he was crouching over with his hands on his head (mid-life crisis perhaps). My housemate and I of course, like the caring people we are stopped and.....took a photo. Yes, we’re those people. But to be fair, it was quite funny. It sort of looked like he had somehow lost his jacket, and forgotten it was on the tree beside him.

We eventually left the man to his crouching and left the park. Do we turn left or right? We had walked right through this big park, but had no idea now how to get to the mall we thought was near the park. My housemate said left, I said right. The dilemma!!! Now I don’t like the brag, I’m a modest guy, but I’m pretty good at directions. My housemate on the other hand.....well it’s better not to talk about it. But because I’m also so nice (very egotistical in this blog), I agreed to turn left and.....prove her wrong. We only walked for about a minute when she turned to me and decided she was wrong. We laughed. So we began our walk back the other way. But after twenty minutes or so of walking the way I was sure we should be going, we still didn’t recognise a single thing. But we continued on, the walk was pleasant. It felt as though we were in a completely different city. I really do believe to truly get to know a city you have to get yourself lost in it. We truly know Harbin now (No we don’t).

We eventually found the street we were looking for, and after almost getting washed away by a machine that waters the street plants, almost getting knocked down by about ten cars and a few selfies later, we arrived at the mall.

Now the reason we came to this particular mall, was because it had a Carrefour (A popular shopping centre in Europe). We were in need of some home comforts, and for some reason I believed this Carrefour would have all the home comforts we could ask for. Of course not! It was like every other Chinese supermarket, and of course it was, we’re in China. However after our long trek there, we decided to take a look around the rest of the mall as well anyway. But not for long...

It’s very common for retailers here in China to often drag you into their store, or over to their stall, in some cases quite literally. So was the case with my experience today. As we reached the top of the escalator of the third floor, a man literally came over to us, pointed at my shoe, crouched down and squirted some sort of cleaning cream on it. Then as I was saying “No thank you”, he started ushering us over to his stall, where he tried to start cleaning my shoe with all sorts of products. But knowing too well at this stage of how some of these people operate, I quickly said no and ran off, not wanting to be asked for too much money for something I didn’t ask for. The funny bit though was trying to get back past him to get back down the escalator, after we realised it was the only way out. We slowly made our way, closer and closer to the top of the escalator, and finally made a dash for it, curling over in stitches of laughter in the process.

After this we decided to call it a day, treat ourselves to an ice-cream cone, take a selfie, and go home. All in all it was a very eventful day. A very random and strange day!!! But it made us laugh, and this is pretty much how a day in the life of my life in China goes...

A Child's World

A Child's World

  By now I have decided that I will be working with children for the rest of my life. Does this worry me? Scare me? Children are hardwork, hyper, crazy, sometimes misbehaved. So why would I want that to be constantly in my life...  

I have grown up always surrounded by young children. Coming from a large extended family, I have countless numbers of cousins, a family of rabbits in a way. And now as the yearly new cousin rate has seemed to slow down to an almost stop, a new rate, of a new generation of young kids has started spawning from the oldest of my cousins. There is no stopping it! But then again I don't want it to. Children are the most interesting people. They don't have a care in the world, they don't care what people think of them, they are outgoing, curious and adventurous.....everything I try to be as an adult. Strange as it sounds, I guess I am an adult. Now that's scary.  

Throughout my school years I never thought of myself ever becoming a teacher. Although I mostly enjoyed school, it never crossed my mind to continue on and remain in a school for the rest of my life. But then I finished school, and began university, not sure what I would like to do, trying my hand at a few things, looking for inspiration. All I wanted to do was travel. I wanted a job where I could work in every country in the world, and see all the amazing places and people it has to offer. Then a friend mentioned a summer camp program she worked for during the summer, teaching English to kids, in Italy. Now Italy is one of the top places on my list of places to go...so naturally I was intrigued. But was teaching for me...  

I said to myself there is only one way to find out. I had always been rather shy growing up, and public speaking seemed to be my worst nightmare, so of course teaching seemed very daunting. But I decided I needed to throw myself into the deep end (...as they say), and find out if I could do it. I applied for the summer camp experience...  

Fast-forward two years, I have just been accepted into a postgraduate degree for primary education, I am half way through 5 months of teaching English in China, and I am trying to fit in a third summer of these camps in Italy. Turns out teaching is definitely for me. As for the public speaking side of things, if you pushed me out on stage in front of 30 adults and told me to speak or teach something I would more than likely faint right then and there. However, throw me into the middle of circle of a 100 kids and I can sing, dance and teach anything. It's strange isn't it...  

Children are just another species really. They don't judge you. You don't feel intimidated by them. If you're feeling low on energy some day, they somehow transfer all of their crazy energy to you. At least that's what I have found anyway. They want to learn, they are enthusiastic, energetic...simply put, they're crazy!!!...but so am I, and that's how it works. I'm on their level.  

The best part for me about teaching you kids, is actually seeing them learn. Whether it's a kid who remembers something you taught during a previous lesson, watching one kid help another, or hearing them sing an English song you taught them earlier that day or week, it is the best feeling, knowing you gave them that, you inspired them...you're a teacher.  

Currently I am teaching English in China, and yesterday I heard a story about one of my 4 year old kindergarten students that added to the feeling that I am sure being a teacher is for me. As this student was on the bus with his mother, on the way to my class, he started chatting to another young child that was on the bus. They were playing and chatting randomly when the other child asked him; "Where are you going now?", to which my student responded "To my English class". Very interestingly to me, the other child asked; "Is the class good?". Here was a young 7 year old child on a bus asking a complete stranger, a 4 year old child, about an English class...I find this so inspiring, a child genuinely interested in a weekend English class. But it gets even better. My student, this 4 year old child, responded by saying; "Yes, my foreign teacher is so much fun". Of course at this stage of the story I was feeling so good about myself, and so inspired by this young child. But it gets even better. Not only did this other kid and his mother get a number for the kindergarten or something...the two kids convinced them all to come right there and then to my class, and now I have a very cool, clever and friendly new student in my class, appropriately named...Star.  

It's because of moments like these, that makes being a teacher the most amazing job, that makes me certain I want a career working with children and have a lifetimes worth of stories just like this one, that makes children the most interesting and inspiring people in the world!!!

I hate wearing clothes...

I hate wearing clothes...  

Clothes...ugh!!! Now don't get me wrong, i'm no nudist. I recently had the topic of nudists explained to me by a 5 year old child. It was my first day work-shadowing at a local primary school, and I was excited to see what I would learn from observing. Little did I know the first thing I would here about was nudists. The very idea amazed and shocked the young 5 year old who still couldn't believe it himself as he told me what these strange creatures were all about. I of course found the whole situation to be brilliantly hilarious and the perfect start to the week. But it got me thinking...

No, I don't want to become a nudist. But after spending two full summers in the beautiful Italy with it's unbeatable warm weather, it is truly awful returning home to freezing cold and wet winter. I got so adjusted to always wearing the bare minimum of clothing...t-shirt, shorts, flip-flops. Now I feel like I spend half the day putting on layers of clothing only to take them off again once I reach the stuffy confines of a cafe or office. Then, the moment I want to step outside again, the routine of layering up begins all over.

It's so much simpler when it is warm. Imagine how much we would save on clothing if it was always warm. Who created weather anyway...did they not predict this problem. People in countries where it is warmer always seem happier and healthier. There is something about sunshine and feeling the warm rays on your back as you dip your feet in the refreshingly warm waters of the meditteranaen sea, that makes you a lot happier. I can honestly say I have never felt so healthy, refreshed and overall in good spirits, during my periods of stay in Italy. Then the moment I return home the runny nose, chesty cough and overall dullness overcomes me.

I'm ranting. I love being at home. But come on universe...throw some of that good weather our way for a change. Shake it up a little.

Travel

Travel...
Over the past few years I have done my fair share of travel, from quickie flights over to the UK to see my friends in their ''foreign colleges'' to traveling around Italy teaching English to kids. Whether it's by foot, bike, car, bus, boat, train or plane I always find an element of adventure to travelling, and it always instills a surge of excitement in me.
Soon enough I will be embarking on my biggest adventure to date...China!!! Yes in a few short weeks I am breaking free from the continent for the first time to begin a 6 month adventure on the other side of the world. Am I crazy???...apparrently so to many of my friends and family. Why China they ask. Why not I always reply. China has always fascinated me. Of course every possible place in the world fascinates me...and makes me want to be this type of crazy, and organise more and more adventures around the world. Yes it's a big leap from Italy but, yes it's cheesy, life is short, and as a clever young boy from a fictional animated movie once made me aware: Adventure is out there!!!
So why not? I am young, healthy and relatively fit (getting fit again...been my new years resolution for a few years now). I hate it when people say, why don't you get yourself a steady, well-paying job, retire early and then you can relax and see the world. First of all back to the cheesy line of life is short...what if I don't survive that long in the world (touch wood I will live a very long and adventurous life). Secondly, unless you're happy sharing this retired world expedition with a very nice walking stick, I don't think these people have thought it through. I on the other hand want to enjoy my travelling of the world while actually being young and fit, so as I don't have to spend more time wishing I could just sit down for a minute, than actually enjoying what the world has to show me. So yes...off I go to China!!!
Culture shock is a major worry. But it is the same everywhere you go. Luckily I never became quite so dependent on the traditional Irish roast. I am more of the experimental type when it comes to foods from different cultures. I think I will survive just fine on rice... Along with travel comes so many different people, with so many different personalities and so many different stories and outlooks on the world. That's what I look forward to the most. From my recent travels around Italy, I have made more connections than I can possibly keep in contact with. However I still remain contact to the ones who made a big impact on my life. To think I spent about 2 weeks tops in total with some of these people seems insane to me. I feel like I have known them a lifetime. But I love this feeling, I love that people from different parts of the world can make deep and meaningful connections in such a short space of time. I have made some truely amazing friendships over the past 2 years, and my plan is to continue this routine of making friends for as long as I possibly can. Travel allows me to do this. We only get one lifetime. Why spend it in the same little corner of the world, thinking about the awesome travels we could have, when we could quite easily just get up and do it. DO IT...
That's what I am doing anyway. I am only writing to tell you this as I arrived at the airport a little to early (5 hours) and have time to kill. So as I sit here in a deserted airport, sipping on a well deserved beer, I am quite content to think about that in a few short weeks I will be all the way on the other side of the world, away from all my family and friends. They will always be there, I will of course always come back. Home is home, wherever you come from. But life is short, adventure is out there, China is waiting for me...what's stopping you. JUST DO IT...TRAVEL!!!