Let's face it, China was a big step. A step into the unknown. Unfortunately it's not quite turned out as planned for me.
3 weeks into my stay here and I'm yet to meet another Westerner outside of work - the Irish bar was full of Chinese people. It seems that the ex-pat scene I was promised doesn't exist, or if it does it consists of 3 stuck up backpackers sat in an over-priced French café.
At work, the majority of my classes are made up of snot-nosed little 4 year olds who have no interest in learning English but whose parents are ready to criticise any wrong move you make (some of them listen at the door and some have even gone as far requesting to sit in and watch classes - not a great help when you're trying to get to grips with the job). Despite being told there'd be a range of ages and abilities I can so far count on one hand the amount of classes I've taught that could stay sat down for more than 5 minutes and wipe their own noses. Definitely not what I signed up for.
I'd usually just gorge myself on food and drink to make myself feel better but I have no fridge to keep beer cool and as you know the food here is boring, repetitive and, quite frankly, rubbish. I don't want to risk it too much either; I only yesterday managed my first solid bowel-movement since last week and I'm sick of staring at the opposite wall of my bathroom while I'm squatting over my hole in the floor.
I had a tourist visa until the middle of October so I had to decide whether staying here for 8 months was something I actually wanted to do. I honestly couldn't see a way that it was so I bit the bullet and jumped on a flight home.
It wasn't a decision I made lightly and I know I'll have some work to do to get back on my feet but right now I'm just glad to be here, at home, waiting for the biggest, greasiest fucking pizza the world has ever seen to show up at my door.
No comments:
Post a Comment