Tuesday, July 12, 2005
My trip to Thailand involved travelling and staying with the whole of my department from school. Most of my colleagues are from a very big city and have little experience of the outdoors. Most amazingly they agreed to go on a jungle hike in the hills of Thailand.
It was terrific!
Some parts of the walk were horribly frustrating. Sometimes I wanted to scream at people for their total lack of co ordination. Occasionally I felt like striding off into the distance and leaving my group of designer clad mall walkers to fend for themselves.
It was terrific because of the story I can tell.
Imagine if they had all been quite capable of walking through the jungle all properly equipped with sensible hiking boots and a ruck sack. There would have been no story to tell.
My lovely Chinese friends were just the most pathetic bunch of people when it came to hiking. The previous day they had all been told what to wear, what to do, what to bring. Everyone turned up very punctually the next morning. Obviously some of them genuinely thought that ‘stout walking shoes’ all had the brand name Gucci and that it was essential, in the jungle, to look up to the minute fashionable even if it meant carrying a few extra pounds of Tiffany jewelry as well as the ultimate accessory of a Prada handbag.
We set off as a group. We hadn’t gone far when suddenly there were cries and shrieks coming from behind me. As soon as the path started to go down hill and a bit slippery many people began to fall over. The Gucci’s just didn’t cut it that day. They became extremely tense and anxious about walking down hill and, unluckily for them, the path started at the top of a mountain and went down to a river. Every few minutes someone fell over.
Some of the more athletic and strong from the group began to help the rest. A human banister was formed to enable the most pathetic and wobbly down the slope. The nervous ones literally shook with exhaustion and fright each time they were required to pass over a small bridge or stream. When it came to very steep areas they edged their way down very very slowly. It reminded me of learning to ski for the first time. People constantly falling over and becoming tired and emotional as they began to realize that they only way out of this situation was to complete the walk. No taxi was about to come along and rescue them for a small fee. The only way to go was down hill.
This arduous walk became even more difficult for them when the jungle thinned out slightly which meant we were no longer in the shade but in bright sunlight. It is very hard to walk on a slippery path, down hill, while holding an umbrella as a shade. The shade is essential to Chinese skin, god forbid they should ever get a sun tan and spoil their clear white complexion. Its funny, I have watched a few adventure programmes recently as well as Michael Palin in the Himalayas. No one ever uses an umbrella while trekking in the jungle!!!
Needless to say the estimated time of one and a half hours to finish the walk actually took three hours. It really wasn’t a difficult route by any ones standard but if you have lived in a city all your life and have only experienced concrete pavements the sudden transition to a wet and slippery down hill slope is too much to cope with. I suspect that going from apartment building to taxi or shopping mall isn’t really the proper preparation for jungle hikes.
It was terrific!
Some parts of the walk were horribly frustrating. Sometimes I wanted to scream at people for their total lack of co ordination. Occasionally I felt like striding off into the distance and leaving my group of designer clad mall walkers to fend for themselves.
It was terrific because of the story I can tell.
Imagine if they had all been quite capable of walking through the jungle all properly equipped with sensible hiking boots and a ruck sack. There would have been no story to tell.
My lovely Chinese friends were just the most pathetic bunch of people when it came to hiking. The previous day they had all been told what to wear, what to do, what to bring. Everyone turned up very punctually the next morning. Obviously some of them genuinely thought that ‘stout walking shoes’ all had the brand name Gucci and that it was essential, in the jungle, to look up to the minute fashionable even if it meant carrying a few extra pounds of Tiffany jewelry as well as the ultimate accessory of a Prada handbag.
We set off as a group. We hadn’t gone far when suddenly there were cries and shrieks coming from behind me. As soon as the path started to go down hill and a bit slippery many people began to fall over. The Gucci’s just didn’t cut it that day. They became extremely tense and anxious about walking down hill and, unluckily for them, the path started at the top of a mountain and went down to a river. Every few minutes someone fell over.
Some of the more athletic and strong from the group began to help the rest. A human banister was formed to enable the most pathetic and wobbly down the slope. The nervous ones literally shook with exhaustion and fright each time they were required to pass over a small bridge or stream. When it came to very steep areas they edged their way down very very slowly. It reminded me of learning to ski for the first time. People constantly falling over and becoming tired and emotional as they began to realize that they only way out of this situation was to complete the walk. No taxi was about to come along and rescue them for a small fee. The only way to go was down hill.
This arduous walk became even more difficult for them when the jungle thinned out slightly which meant we were no longer in the shade but in bright sunlight. It is very hard to walk on a slippery path, down hill, while holding an umbrella as a shade. The shade is essential to Chinese skin, god forbid they should ever get a sun tan and spoil their clear white complexion. Its funny, I have watched a few adventure programmes recently as well as Michael Palin in the Himalayas. No one ever uses an umbrella while trekking in the jungle!!!
Needless to say the estimated time of one and a half hours to finish the walk actually took three hours. It really wasn’t a difficult route by any ones standard but if you have lived in a city all your life and have only experienced concrete pavements the sudden transition to a wet and slippery down hill slope is too much to cope with. I suspect that going from apartment building to taxi or shopping mall isn’t really the proper preparation for jungle hikes.
Keeping my big mouth shut
It’s nearly the end of term and I am beginning to feel a growing sense of panic deep inside me. I have not been moved to write about my experiences. I feel that I am on dangerous ground because it may be that I am beginning to take everything as being normal and have stopped being totally shocked and stunned by directives from above and the bureaucratic gubbins that this country just loves so much.
I love my job. I love teaching and I often have a suspicion that one day a man in a white coat will forcibly enter my classroom and take me away for enjoying myself too much. Once taken to an institution for the deranged and disillusioned they will tell me the truth; the powers that be have merely been humouring me for the last 2 years and that although I have been allowed to teach young impressionable students they have all been part of the conspiracy too. They will gently explain to me that it has all been a scam. A big scam arranged to make me happy and now its over. I have to go back to the institution to be reconditioned by recreational drugs which will lull my brain back into a sense of confusion and bewilderment!
The only thing I don’t love about my job is the money. I don’t get enough of it. Oh the joy of that statement being the other way round. Can you imagine? The only thing I don’t love about my job is the money. Yes that’s right. They give me far too much of the damn stuff and frankly I don’t know what to do with it. Bloody stuff gets in the way, very heavy in my purse and hampers my daily life so much so that I end up giving it away to bewildered people I meet on the street just to off load some of the inconvenient stuff. But no, as always it’s the lack of cash that is the problem.
I tried to convince my boss (the Nun) that I am worth more. I had a meeting with her and attempted to talk about getting more cash. This fell on stony ground and some how she managed to steer the conversation around to sex, abortion and euthanasia. During this meeting I was in a state of panic as I felt backed into a corner and some how she would get the truth out of me, which is that i I am a liberal minded pinko lefty with morals that need adjusting to suit her catholic world. Eeeek! This was my second ‘professional’ meeting with her and the last one also involved the topic of sex, to be precise, one night stands. I felt that last time I skirted the issue and managed to change the subject quite creatively. This time I was suspicious. Last time I thought she wanted to know about it or was going to tell me about them. But this time I felt a little insulted. Was she inferring that I had knowledge of such things?
The subject of my pay scale seemed to be fading into the distance and in an attempt to bring in back to the forefront I jumped in with an example of what a good teacher I am by telling her about the lesson I had taught earlier that day. Oh yes sister, I said. Argumentative writing need not be boring if the topic is interesting and I pride myself if getting my students be to be aware of both sides of the argument. The topic I had chosen for that day was ‘Should people be able to choose the sex of their baby?”
An interesting and scientific argument which involves a variety of points of view. The board filled up with pros and cons on this issue.
The Nun listened. She went quiet. Then she said “But sometimes you just have to tell the students what is right and what is wrong and remember that this is a Catholic School” .
In my free thinking head I had not even thought that I was in any way talking about religion and definitely not abortion, which is what she was inferring. I felt my finger wag at her. Probably a mistake in retrospect! “No” I said. “I was discussing the issue of pre conception, not afterwards”.
The conversation seemed to come to an end. Had she grown bored? Whatever had happened I was relieved to be let out of the room.
A couple of weeks passed. I was sulking about the rejection of not getting any more cash when my Head of Department approached me with a worried look on her face. She quizzed me about a lesson I had taught about ‘abortion’. The good hearted Christian Nun had not listened to a word I had said. I was at pains to explain the real story and could even produce examples of the finished essays. The students wrote their essays and every one of them had said it was not a good idea because nature should not be tampered with and some mentioned that God was the one who should choose. Was I saved.
Another week passed and Sister left for 8 weeks to attend ‘very important meetings’ , a subject I need to address but not now. The Vice Principal called me to sign my contract for next year. I have a job at least. But before I signed it she asked me if there had been some misunderstanding between myself and Sister? I took the bull the horns and clearly explained my side of the story. She looked quietly amused. She must be normal but I have my suspicions that she is not. Her advice was that I must remember that she is a ‘deeply religious’ person. I take that to mean that she doesn’t live in the real world, you know that one that you and me live in! In future I will avoid any type of subject matter (when I talk to her) that may be construed as anti catholic – obviously a minefield! My answer to her every question from now on will be ‘Absolutely’ and then I will keep my mouth shut!
I love my job. I love teaching and I often have a suspicion that one day a man in a white coat will forcibly enter my classroom and take me away for enjoying myself too much. Once taken to an institution for the deranged and disillusioned they will tell me the truth; the powers that be have merely been humouring me for the last 2 years and that although I have been allowed to teach young impressionable students they have all been part of the conspiracy too. They will gently explain to me that it has all been a scam. A big scam arranged to make me happy and now its over. I have to go back to the institution to be reconditioned by recreational drugs which will lull my brain back into a sense of confusion and bewilderment!
The only thing I don’t love about my job is the money. I don’t get enough of it. Oh the joy of that statement being the other way round. Can you imagine? The only thing I don’t love about my job is the money. Yes that’s right. They give me far too much of the damn stuff and frankly I don’t know what to do with it. Bloody stuff gets in the way, very heavy in my purse and hampers my daily life so much so that I end up giving it away to bewildered people I meet on the street just to off load some of the inconvenient stuff. But no, as always it’s the lack of cash that is the problem.
I tried to convince my boss (the Nun) that I am worth more. I had a meeting with her and attempted to talk about getting more cash. This fell on stony ground and some how she managed to steer the conversation around to sex, abortion and euthanasia. During this meeting I was in a state of panic as I felt backed into a corner and some how she would get the truth out of me, which is that i I am a liberal minded pinko lefty with morals that need adjusting to suit her catholic world. Eeeek! This was my second ‘professional’ meeting with her and the last one also involved the topic of sex, to be precise, one night stands. I felt that last time I skirted the issue and managed to change the subject quite creatively. This time I was suspicious. Last time I thought she wanted to know about it or was going to tell me about them. But this time I felt a little insulted. Was she inferring that I had knowledge of such things?
The subject of my pay scale seemed to be fading into the distance and in an attempt to bring in back to the forefront I jumped in with an example of what a good teacher I am by telling her about the lesson I had taught earlier that day. Oh yes sister, I said. Argumentative writing need not be boring if the topic is interesting and I pride myself if getting my students be to be aware of both sides of the argument. The topic I had chosen for that day was ‘Should people be able to choose the sex of their baby?”
An interesting and scientific argument which involves a variety of points of view. The board filled up with pros and cons on this issue.
The Nun listened. She went quiet. Then she said “But sometimes you just have to tell the students what is right and what is wrong and remember that this is a Catholic School” .
In my free thinking head I had not even thought that I was in any way talking about religion and definitely not abortion, which is what she was inferring. I felt my finger wag at her. Probably a mistake in retrospect! “No” I said. “I was discussing the issue of pre conception, not afterwards”.
The conversation seemed to come to an end. Had she grown bored? Whatever had happened I was relieved to be let out of the room.
A couple of weeks passed. I was sulking about the rejection of not getting any more cash when my Head of Department approached me with a worried look on her face. She quizzed me about a lesson I had taught about ‘abortion’. The good hearted Christian Nun had not listened to a word I had said. I was at pains to explain the real story and could even produce examples of the finished essays. The students wrote their essays and every one of them had said it was not a good idea because nature should not be tampered with and some mentioned that God was the one who should choose. Was I saved.
Another week passed and Sister left for 8 weeks to attend ‘very important meetings’ , a subject I need to address but not now. The Vice Principal called me to sign my contract for next year. I have a job at least. But before I signed it she asked me if there had been some misunderstanding between myself and Sister? I took the bull the horns and clearly explained my side of the story. She looked quietly amused. She must be normal but I have my suspicions that she is not. Her advice was that I must remember that she is a ‘deeply religious’ person. I take that to mean that she doesn’t live in the real world, you know that one that you and me live in! In future I will avoid any type of subject matter (when I talk to her) that may be construed as anti catholic – obviously a minefield! My answer to her every question from now on will be ‘Absolutely’ and then I will keep my mouth shut!
