I Did It

This face accurately describes my reaction as soon as I realized
that I actually kind of know what I'm doing for the first time ever

This will likely be my final post of the year. I will be going on a little holiday for the break, one of the upsides to living in the China-not-China neighbourhood is that it's a stone's throw from plenty of warm and nice places to spend a two week break. During that time it'll be unlikely that I'll be around a computer, so here's my chance to say a few things before the new year.

Two years ago I couldn't be trusted to remember to put a belt on or be in charge of my own smartphone. I didn't know how to manage online banking, and I was overwhelmed with the concept of credit cards. Many camp sweaters laid down their original sizes because I didn't know how to wash my clothes properly. Now, as of December 18th, 2015, I have been teaching full-time for six months. TEACHING. MONTHS. SIX OF THEM. We're talking about a professional, responsibilty-endowing, you-need-to-put-on-nice-clothes-that-don't-have-shmutz-on-them job. Learning how to actually do it properly took a lot of work, and getting to the point where teacher's college would even think about taking a bum like me almost took more. So this is my chance to say that I couldn't have done it without you.

"Stuart that sounds like a scripted golden globes award speech"

But really. Like, I mean having friends that always come out to spend time with you even if it's a Sunday afternoon and it's Hamilton, a family that foots the bill to the countless times I've done something one of my students wouldn't have done, and coworkers that step up, check up, and support you every day. I really could not have made it anywhere close to where I am now without people who give a shit. So thank you, like, a lot. My kids are the ones who benefit the most from it, which brings me to them.

The perfect visual representation of fun

My Kids (that's right, they belong to ME)
While I cannot show their faces, I can use my masterful MS Paint skills to shield their identities while still capturing their full emotions at any given moment, and also tell you how awesome they are. I can also tell you that while Macau is Westernized-ish-kinda, there are still a few things here and there that don't line up with our ways back home. They will say silly or funny things that you wouldn't get the honor of hearing back home (at least not in the innocent and honest ways they say things), such as:

How to Science: Soils

Example 1: Upon finding a picture of me on google doing research for their newspaper projects
 - "I found Mr. Stuart with a big furry beard on his face!"
(Followed by finding a picture of Brent close to mine, which I pointed out. Apparently they didn't understand that was NOT me)
 - "Is that a picture of you Mr. Stuart? Was that you when you were younger?
 - "Oh my god such an old picture, he isn't even fat yet!"

Example 2: Upon wearing my tweed jacket from Value Village school for the first time
 - "Oh my god, look it's the President. Like the president or like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Jr. but with the different skin"
 - "No, it's Mr. Brant. Mr. Stuart doesn't have anything that looks that good"
 - "Guys but Mr. Brant went back to Canada remember? He even let Mr. Stuart keep his glasses"
 - "But he's wearing a fancy jacket, he must be a doctor. I think he's Dr. Brant" (more on Dr. Brant later)

How to Fractions

Besides the silly things that they say, most of my kids will:

  - Poke the hair on my arms when I'm not looking and call me 'furry' like any number of animals (I think I liked 'a furry big horse' the most)
 - Poke their heads into the classroom during recess while I'm leaving whatsapp messages to various people (Whos names I now preceed with a Mr. or Miss)
 - Encourage their friends (esp. in other classes) to MANGIA at lunchtime during cafeteria duty (and also teach me Chinese, since that's the only time I let them speak it when they're around me) - Look at me with a straight face and ask me "Are you really am 51 years old?"
 - Find ways to surround me at my desk with a barrage of questions of when they will see Dr. Brant

How to Mangia

I love my kids. Sometimes I talk about them to others on how they're all neat and different but also awesome and I realize that I do love my kids.  I have kids who know all the things before I even begin to teach them. I have kids who have stupidly neat printing, who can pick up inferences and summarize better than me. I have kids who read at a goddamn grade SEVEN reading level. They know how to have fun, and they get a little better at things every day. I would say I wish I could be like them when I grow up, but since I've got 16 years on them already, I my job is to take that awesomeness that they possess and aim it at something fun so they can think for themselves, do cool things, and become the kind of people I'd like to play Dutch Blitz with.  


The Story of Dr. Brant
This came as a collision of two events. Halloween isn't a huge event at our school (nor really in Macau), so my interpretation of dressing up was to wear my other glasses to school (currently my only intact glasses until I get my hands on a new pair), and posing as someone else, in this case, Brent. This eventually turned into the character of 'Dr. Brant' after I wore the aforementioned tweed jacket to school for the first time. If I'm at recess and see one of my kids in the hall, I'll put on a different voice and they'll jump to attention and begin drilling this apparently new and unique human being all sorts of questions about his past life. Secretly I love having the personalities of my friends wriggle their way into my teaching (if not my relationship with my kids), I wrote one of my exams based on the story of two of my actual friends who go shopping together. I use other friends in word problems (specifically in math) that tie into their real life qualities. One day I may even be lucky enough to have a visitor in the classroom one day. But for now, it's time for a well deserved holiday break. I'll be in the Philippines with two teacher friends of mine, plus one not-teacher-but-still friend of mine, for almost the entirety of the two weeks we have off. It'll be warm, tasty, and I'll probably have access to a motorcycle there to go FAST. I'll put all the happenings of the next two weeks up just as soon as I'm back. Until then, sit tight and have yourselves a chuffing excellent Christmas break. 

So that's all from China-not-China for 2015. I suppose all years are good if you've been able to do a little something and make somebody feel good about themselves while having a little fun yourself. What's the point of things anyways?

A Useless Guide to Cooking

You know that feeling you get when you do a thing, and you do it properly, and it's been a while since you did that thing (if even ever), and you're bloated-to-bursting with self-confidence and pride in your new-found ability to do simple things with a heap of confidence?  While it can be a detrimental feeling (I.E. when you buy multiple antiquated cars and think 'I can fix anything' before realizing you are in completely over your head), it adds that healthy dose of UMPH to life that makes you do fun stuff and turns an evening into an adventure. And so I've found that feeling taking things in the kitchen, and pushing them together to make tasty things. 

This is where I do battle. There's no oven, a single gas burner, and all the outlets are the wrong shape, but so are the plugs and they fit so that works out I guess. This picture was taken a good 5 months ago, so you don't get to see the industrial-grade Chinese blender with mystery controls I can't read. It's not much, but it's mine, and I'm proud of it. 
This, my friends, is a rice cooker. It is my most treasured If you do not own one, you are living in the past. This thing will cook rice & noodles perfectly, steam vegetables tenderly, boil soup thoroughly, and keep your food warm, moist and perfectly sealed for as long as you want (I left mashed potatoes on 'warm' mode overnight and woke up to the most wonderful breakfast). It may be the thing that allows me to get away making good food with my level of inexperience, but we're not here to talk about my things. So without further delay, these are the two not-so-disastrous results of the kitchen...

Garlic Chili Peanut Chiggin
I bought some chicken at the store because, well, because I wanted to eat it (there's not really any more reason to that when you buy things at the grocery store). Not knowing what kind of chicken I was going to make, I defaulted to the classic 'Get something green that comes out of the ground' strategy (works every time).
The purchased chicken, plus the things you see in the above picture, are the main things I used. I chopped the chilis and garlic, cooked that with the chicken, and then added some sugar (for that Thai flavour), peanut butter (because I felt like it) and some coconut milk to loosen up the consistency. 

While that was going, I put the rice cooker on and put some salted green onions up top to let the steam get to work. Then I put the lid down and it goes. IT GOES. I don't have to watch it, check it, think about it, NOPE. It just goes. Then it stops when things are done. What a gem this thing is. 

Result: When all was said and done, this turned out pretty well. I didn't taste much garlic, and the chilies were hard to detect (I later remembered that peanut butter is useful for quelling overly spicy foods, so I suppose that wasn't a great pairing), but it was really tasty. A savoury, thick peanut sauce that went really well with the rice and salted leeks. A little portion of comfort food with greens on rice. 

Pumpkin Tiramisu
For this one, I had to give Mom a call and ask for the recipe. I am not capable enough to make Tiramisu without instructions, but I am capable enough to improvise. Know how I turned the raw pumpkin into fresh pumpkin goop? Rice cooker. That's right. I put a pumpkin in a rice cooker. I broke all the rules and I still came out on top. See where the heap of confidence comes from? RICE COOKER MAN.

The first step is to make the goop that is the basis for the Tiramisu. Whipping cream, cream cheese, sugar, and the other things that I forget. Don't do what I did and try and whip the cream in a blender. Once you've got a handsome jug of goop like you see here, it's time to get to work on the assembly. 

I got some chocolate wafer cookies from the store, and dipped them in a boiled water-sugar mixture to help them soften up. I lined the bottom and the sides and they happened to fit almost perfectly. 

Then you take your goop and start pouring. Well, if you did what I said specifically NOT to do and mixed the whole thing in the blender, then you'll be pouring. Otherwise, scoop the goop (hehe) into the container, and then line it with cookies again when you're halfway full.  

Top the whole dealio with some cinnamon and cloves, and let it sit in the fridge while you pray that you didn't ruin the whole thing by using a blender instead of a hand mixer. Pray all night, and don't even look at it the next morning. Pray and hope until the evening, and then slowly open the fridge door, clutching what hope you have left, and with any dumb luck, the mixture will have thickened out and you will have fooled your friends and coworkers into thinking that you're a master dessert-maker. 

Result: Holy poop. This stuff was gooooooood. I even had an extra container of goop that I ate with cookies (I mean that I used the cookies as a scoop and powered through an entire cup of the stuff) by myself while watching a movie. You might fart the next day, but you'll have a damn good dessert that goes really well with brandy or amaretto. Don't believe me? Well I suppose you'll just have to come by and try some for yourself. 

Miss(ter Stuart Goes to) Saigon

I have a few long weekends during the year, and while it becomes very easy to opt for food and not-leaving-bed-for-days, I was coerced into joining two of my friends on a trip to Ho Chi Minh City, better known to the western world as Saigon. 

Ho Chi Minh is super neat. Well I suppose that's because it's the first place outside of the polluted nest of China-not-China that I've seen. But really, it's super neat; A mix of West & East, old & new, socialist vs capitalist, etc. It's the last city that the army took over during the war. Then the war ended and that was that and everyone said WELP and called it a day. That's basically what wikipedia said (I knew that from before, but from reading wikipedia). They've also got a really comprehensive war museum that comes from a fairly-anti-western standpoint that is simultaniously justified (to an extent), more against the American government than the American people. 

Food's great here. Street food is life. Sitting on a little plastic chair with a beer and some tasty lil fried stuff that's as fresh as can possibly be. Did you know they make coffee here? I didn't know that. Did you know there is a liquid version of temporary eternal life called Matcha? It sounds like MANGIA but it has more kick and literally has more kick, because it's concentrated green tea extract stuff that they mix with milk and serve it either hot or cold. Kale and coffee had a cute lil babby and it tastes delicious. I had one. I had several. I HIGHLY recommend it. I should start my own business and import it to Canada and become that guy who does that stuff. Also if you steal my idea I'll come after you. 

Neat things even happened when I decided to brave the nightlife and converse with strangers. My version of participating in said nightlife was to sit on a street-side patio and multiple beers, chatting with the various people who cycled through the tables next to me. I ran into a couple of charming ladies who happened to work at one of the schools that offered me a job during the same recruiting fair that I found my current job at (as a kindergarten teacher in Taiwan, could you imagine? I actually considered their offer for a good moment). Gotta say I was a fan of that. Hopefully they give this a read and have a chuckle (or even better, a pang to come to Macau). 

The single best thing I've done in the past almost-year happened to me that weekend (notwithstanding some better-than-neat events). I rented a scooter. I rented a scooter in an Asian city of 7M people with no rules of the road, no qualifications and CERTAINLY no experience whatsoever. 

"Wait wut"

I said I RENTED A SCOOTER. Not a motorcycle(I know myself well enough that I don't need to complicate life with things like a clutch handle and a gear-changer-pedal). The series of events was less of a series of events and more of a moment I was walking and saw a place with 'MOTORCYCLE RENTAL' posted out front. Immediately, like the logical person you know me to me, I weighed the pros and cons of such an opportunity:

Pros
-----
> "Holy shit I want it"
> "I can go so fast and honk the horn at the same time"
> "They probably won't even ask for my license"
> "I can make motorcycle noises and pretend it's the real thing"
> "It's literally $14 USD for the whole day"> "I'm an adult I can do what I want"
Cons
-----
> "I have no insurance of any kind"
> "The traffic is nuts and I've never been here before"
> "I have no idea what I'm doing"

A logical person would look at the situation, and obviously see that there are more pros than cons. Something that is more than another thing will weigh more than that other thing, so therefore the pros outweigh the cons by force of numbers and I AM and adult and I will INDEED do what I want.I walked the scooter to the curb and, knowing the staff were watching to see if this silly tourist knew what he was doing, did the unthinkable. I twisted the handlebar, put my feet on the feet-spots, and just WENT. 

My initial thought was "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HOLY SHIT NOPE" but decided to ignore these thoughts and continue to pretend to know what to do. So I went faster.  After about 20 minutes of practice, I learned that I had mirrors, a turn signal and a horn I could use to help me navigate. Then I went faster and honked more. For those of you who have seen the Top Gear Vietnam special, driving in Vietnam (especially a city like Saigon), is both completely chaotic and relatively straightforward. It is in no way like the conventional driving that you & I are used to, but at the same time is pretty manageable. You literally just GO and you watch out. But you have to go (but you have to watch out). You've got to be both assertive yourself, and observant to what's going on in front of you (not behind you and only sometimes besides you). Want to cross over 5 lanes of traffic? Go and watch out. Want to turn left with no light? Just GO but WATCH OUT. Want to go all around the city because you can? GO but WATCH OUT BECAUSE IT'S GETTING LATE AND WHERE DID ALL THIS TRAFFIC COME FROM WATCH OUT!
I drove around the city for 5 hours. FIVE HOURS. 300 MINUTES. I actually had to take lunch breaks because my wrist and palm were getting sore from the handlebars. It was stupidly liberating how fun it was. I just... I can't... I mean that I loved it so much that if I tried to speak to you I couldn't because the feels are so big and strong they'll get caught in my heart and not be able to make it out. I visited a few places that the Top Gear presenters went to during that special. I found some neat buildings, some more museums, some bustling markets, and then roundabouts to go round and round because you just can (the most inside lines are usually empty, so you can go FAST).
---- Disclaimer ----
You cannot actually go fast. Don't go fast. Fast on a scooter in Saigon is not actually fast.
20 km/h is your standard cruising speed
30 km/h is a wide-eyed hurry
40 hm/h is a few minutes past NOPE o'clock.
I may or may not have reached a blistering speed of 80 km/h on a wide parkway farther from the city center. I would recommend it to those who would like to be reminded that life is a precious thing. 

TL;DR
I went. I went but I watched out. Then I went fast but I still watched out. I watched out extra hard at night but I still went. 

My gearheaded-ness still lives, and while I will not own any antiquated and dilapidated automobiles in the near future, I do plan to return to this fantastic and only slightly-daunting place on a proper bike and go (but watch out) from one end of the country to the other. Maybe you'd like to join me?  

When Friends Come to Visit

One of the most enjoyable things about living overseas is the egg tarts receiving visitors. This week, a pal by the name of Conlan Flynn graced Macau & Hong Kong with his presence for a total of four days. I cannot say how much joy it brought me to have a friend come by, but I will try.

I have had visitors before. A friend I played in a band with a while back & his gf came by to Macau and gave me the opportunity to be the host in a country I'd been living in for only a month. It gave me the opportunity to go out in my new home city/country, and put me in the 'host' position again, something I haven't had since Uni (I am talking about the position you are in where you feel like the warm welcoming person who brings others together to hang out VIA eating, drinking & being merry). Considering the fact that I do not have a functioning digital camera and that my new phone arrived only recently, I have minimal photos to use and share. 

We managed to snag some awesome street food (and drink) from some awesome places. After hours of hunting for a phone that couldn't be found anywhere in the damn city, we came across a coconut-shake-blending place. They take actual coconut husk & meat, blend it with ice and condensed milk, and then it becomes a magical nectar that rejuvenates the soul. Paired with some hot tasty Hawaiian pizza, I felt new life. In Macau, we came down to Hac Sa beach to get some simple Chinese BBQ and beer. Hac Sa may be my favourite place I'll have to show it to the lot of you . I shamelessly stole this instagram pic from some tourist who posted it with some trendy writing and made it look like a Polaroid. Doing the food thing is probably my favourite part of having visitors. Come for yourself and taste all the tasty things POUR MANGIA (which reminds me, I'm behind on my food posts).

I should clarify that Conlan is a bud I went to Teacher's College with, someone who also went to a music school. He teaches in Phnom Pehn and was visiting Macau for some 'professional development' (what adults call field trips when they go places to learn things). I offered up my place, and the hangs went from there. It's so much nicer to drink with someone rather than alone watching Mad Men.

During those four days, we've stayed in a less than scrupulous hostel in Hong Kong, spent far too much on beer, had some fantastic Hong Kong street food, went to a live big band show, and developed a new way to spend our time in the best way possible, called a WATCH & SCOTCH™. 
Watch & Scotch™ (All Rights Reserved) is a patented procedure that consists of purchasing a wrist-strapped timepiece and purchasing and/or consuming at least a single dollop of Scotch Whiskey. Watch & Scotch™ is a useful way of:
 - Expanding your watch collection
 - Exploring the world of acclaimed Scottish spirits
 - Testing the health of your bank account and throat

We both purchased watches at a small shop in Hong Kong, and we ended the day with a visit to a Scotch bar to taste some scotches and chuckle at our new development and the impact it will have on the course of human history.

I truly enjoy each opportunity to have someone from home come and spend the time to have a beer & catch up. I suppose that as life goes along, the people you care about, their lives go along too. At home, the board games have gotten dusty, the visitors have been few, and time spent with friends has diminished as real life has devoured so much time and effort, as it does. Leaving Canada accelerated has certainly accelerated process for me, but you expect that to happen in any situation once you leave school, you leave a lot of the people you've been around so much. Sometimes those people are friends for just that time in your life, sometimes those people are friends for much longer. Whatever the case, for me, it just makes the time spent together that much more special. 

Well done Conlan. If I had a working phone that weekend, there'd be a picture of us here.

Happy Halloween

Most of you are, at this point, making plans or getting ready to follow through on made plans for the wonderful holiday of Halloween. I, at this current moment, am doing neither of those things as I've spent the past 18 hours of recovering from an evening of poor choices. That's about all I'll say about that. Being stuck inside does have a few upsides, such as : Being forced to look at your dirty laundry for so long that you actually get some of it washed. Another good one is memorizing the sparse contents of your fridge to such an extent you become aware of how truly little there is to eat. Or my personal favourite, sitting on the floor of the shower and realizing that there isn't anything to grab onto when your feet go out from under you as you're trying to stand up. I'll have to remember that one for next time. Since I no longer have a functioning camera or phone, I'm going to have to dip into the rich history of photos that illustrates all the wonderful things this holiday has to offer, including these two pictures Mom graciously provided of our cat, dressed up as a 'sourpuss' and 'tabby cat'. I won't argue with it. 

Since I'm trying to eat healthier and take in more reasonable portions, I'm not having any candy tonight. I've even been so lucky that the traditional tide of cupcakes, chocolates and other treats has been relatively low this year (I guess our school's emphasis on healthy eating for the kiddos is working). My costume this year took the form of wearing my other glasses to school for the first time (my kids hadn't seen these ones yet), shaving, and calling myself 'Mr. Brant', feigning as Mr. Stuart's twin who was only teaching in Macau as a supply teacher for the day. The experience was complete with asking the kids for help with directions around the school, what the procedures were, and purposely messing up their names to everyone's enjoyment. It might not have been much, but it was fun. And what's life if it's not fun to have fun anymore?

I see a lot of you folks dressing up and doing Halloween to the fullest, and I think that's really cool of you. Well done. I wish I had access to more thrift stores and venues that celebrate Halloween (there isn't much here unless you want to hit up the club), although the past has not proven me to be a big dresser-upper. Take last year for example. This was my attempt at Bill Nye (the science guy). You can see that the only reason people would have a marginally close idea as to who I was is the name tag I had to sport. Still, it was nice to do the Halloween thing. Fun Fact: I got a parking ticket from McMaster University while I was purchasing the lab coat for my costume. It resulted in the most expensive Halloween to date.  

To you folks back home doing the Halloween thing, I hope you're well and having a relatively good time. I found this treasure in the archives of facebook from a good two years ago, I don't even remember what I was (wow Stuart...), only that we started the night with SmashBros & MarioKart, all streetcar'd to an awesome bar and had an awesome time in downtown Toronto. A proper hang. I suppose that's what I miss most about the past, but that becomes harder now that we've reached our mid-twenties and adult goals have taken control of our decision making processes. While I could still try to dress up as a race car driver complete with a cardboard car strapped on my shoulders with bungee cords, asking for candy and zooming around the neighborhood, I might get some funny looks and risk being spotted by my students (Macau is a small place). Maybe I do need some chocolate...

So whether you are in Toronto, elsewhere in Canada or in another country entirely; from my home to yours, I'd like to wish you a very Happy Halloween. 

Disaster at Sea

The first thing you might think is "Stuart, last weeks' post was about your foolishness. That story's been told. You've milked that cow, it's dry. Do you think Harry Potter sold millions of copies by going back to the Chamber of Secrets every single book?!". You're right about that. I was hoping this week's post would be about 'New Things Tried', of which I have a few, but things went in such a.... destructive direction, that I've no choice but to share my day with you.Join me for dinner and story time as I recreate the unfortunate events that unfolded in Hong Kong just the other day (and when I say dinner, I mean knocking a jar of spagetti sauce onto the floor so it shatters into a goopy-yet-sharp mess. Then you give up on dinner and get old sushi and tubed wasabi from the supermarket). Just read it, because if nothing good comes of these misfortunes, then it will all be for nothing.

I have a friend in Hong Kong that I know through my younger days playing video games with people. We were part of a 'community', and although it might sound silly to you, we spent a decent amount of time together and got to know one another over the years (I've known Nathan for 8 years now). This is the same community that led me to Katrineholm in Sweden to have the most intense Swedish hangs that may have resulted in a masterpiece of a what'sapp video. But I digress... He's been my go-to-hang-out-with-and-learn-about-the-city person when it comes to Hong Kong, and it's been through him that I've met some pretty interesting people. I've included a few maps of Hong Kong because of reasons. 


The Plan: Nathan (and another one of his friends, Dickson) and I were to traverse Shelter Bay on Hong Kong's western coastline to a nearby inlet with a shoreline cafe with maximum photographic and letter-writing potentials. We were to go by kayak because they rent them and there are few other ways for physically limited out-of-shape individuals such as ourselves (other options would include windsurfing and standing-up-paddling-on-a-big-surfboard-thing). I agreed because it was an opportunity to be active and take pictures of things. I also know a thing or two about kayaking because I did a camp thing for a while (which brings up the memory of my first days at camp when I claimed to know how to stern a canoe because I had used a kayak once. This was for a 3 day canoe trip, mind you, so you can imagine how awfully that went), I was excited to get back into that. The map you see above is of Hong Kong, the other part of 'China-not-China'. The box in blue outlines Shelter Bay, the area we attempted to cross for a bit of exercise and good eating. All in all, it sounded like a good day, so you can imagine my disappointment when things went awry.


The Execution:

We wound up at the establishment with cash in head, ready to hit the high seas with a casual level of enthusiasm that attempted to mask our apparent ineptitude at the task at hand.We were renting hollow kayaks that you sit on top of rather than inside. This doesn't make them any less stable, but it allows waves and other Chinese schmutz from the sea to splash into your lap and collect around your feet and under your bum (and soak into your pants). The same can be said of the luggage compartment, which while having straps to hold down your belongings, has no drainage from said Chinese schmutzy seawater. 
This is the other two-thirds of the crew. They took a double because they were even less confident in their seamanship than me (my attitude is usually 'Welp, others have done it. I can do it too. How hard can it be?). If you take a look at this picture, you can see my bag strapped into the kayak on the left, with their bags in the larger one in the center. Because we are not smart men, we decided that "No, we don't need to rent a locker. We can bring our things with us. In small boats. On the open water. On a windy day with choppy seas. This is a good idea and we think we are smart". I gave my things to Nathan, who had a 'waterproof bag', because I am smart. So very smart....

Our route. Starting location in yellow,
the cafe-that-never-was in green, and
the location of the sinking in red

The Catastrophic Failure: 
Things started to go poorly when the two I was with started to lag behind. It turns out their boat was not sealed properly at some joint, and they had been slowly taking on water the entire time. On top of that, the conditions for boating were windy, meaning waves were landing in my lap and on my backpack. We paddle labourously for about 20 minutes, taking a short break from the waves & wind on a nearby island. Thinking that the other two were falling behind because of goofing around/being lazy I set off ahead of them because I'm hungry and want some lunch, thinking "I can't wait to take some pictures of this cafe". The picture below may be last image my camera will ever take. 

This is not a picture of a smart man

After more 10 minutes on the water, I hear a call from behind me, and see the other boat low in the water, with the guys struggling to keep it upright. I only have time to turn my kayak around when I see it go over, and with it my hopes that this would be a relaxing Sunday afternoon. I knew that was it. No lunch. No dry belongings. No pretending to be a famous world-explorer on the high seas. Fun's over, time to salvage what's left of the day. It was the kind of failure that is so incredibly defeating; A long, drawn out struggle, one that drains all hope and erodes your spirits like a slow fall that you attempt to stop with desperate failing & feeble footwork only to ultimately succumb to the the force of the ground rushing up to meet your face with pain and bitter shame. It was a 45 minute process of attempting to help the others mount the larger boat, salvage the floating flip-flops & paddles, argue amongst ourselves, tow the half-sunken boat to a nearby pile of barnacle-covered rocks surrounded by sea urchins, roll the boat over, wait for it to drain while being nibbled by all manners of sea creatures, and then get clumsily get back on and limp back to shore with ruined electronics, bloody hands & feet. I stayed in my boat, but I knew my belongings were toast, and by this point, the heavy cloud of failure casts such a burdening shame on everyone that the day becomes a write off entirely. By the time I returned home in wet clothes, finally ending the symphony of relentless squelches that only come from soaked shoes, I was ready for bed. 

List of Casualties from the Action on Shelter Bay: October 25th 2015 

 --- Fatalities ---
 - 1 Motorolla MotoG cell phone
 - 1 Sony RX100 digital camera (gift from a family friend)
 - 1 pair of Seinheiser earbuds
 - 2 songs to the school musical I wrote this weekend 
 - 2 fully written and enveloped letters ready for posting (Sorry Matt & Murray)
 - Friend's phones & belongings
 - Any remaining hope that I had in myself

 --- Wounded In Action ---
- 3 pairs of feet (courtesy of sea urchins, barnacles & rocks made of f!cking KNIVES)
- Handy Dandy Backpack (which is now very schmutzy indeed)
- 1 pair of running shoes
- 1 Canadian passport (including my photo ID on the main page)
- 1 leather wallet & paper contents (bills, cards, etc)
- 3 grown men's pride

 --- Survivors ---
- One Athletic shirt
- Camera SD card

I suppose, walking away from it, it wasn't such a bad day. My hands still hurt from clutching the barnacle-crusted rocks for a good half hour while the other two salvaged their kayak, but I got to experience something new. I also felt the gripping pain of loss as the realization sunk in that electronics are expensive and I have other things that need to be paid for (my phone and camera are sitting in a cleaning solution the internet recommended to me. They are my last hope). Maybe, walking away from it, I feel a little defeated. Defeat, in many ways, has become an old companion. It is a part of my life, and no matter how I attempt to learn from it, it returns to me as regularly as the sun's rise in the morning. Perhaps I should just stay inside, board up the windows, and pretend it's nighttime for the rest of my waking life. 

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Preceded by a weekend where I was unable to travel to Hong Kong due to my own forgetfulness and obtuse-icity, I endured one of the most defeating days I've encountered in my working life. This day is entirely odd because my feeling of complete defeat did not come from loud noises, surprise work obligations or the gremlins that take control of the 'lil stinkers that make up my class. It was a Monday, which is a shame because I like my Mondays so much.

Thing started on the wrong foot when I found my clean underwear had not dried overnight on the line. After a hasty (and I do mean hasty) attempt to dry them with an iron, I was forced to don my moist clothes and embark on a new week. I had taken my saxophone to school, as I usually do on Mondays, and things began to unravel from that point onwards.

Arriving at the school, I usually go to the 3rd floor office (I have an office desk in addition to using a classroom that I share with a Chinese teacher) to grab my plans and any things a secretary/admin will leave me from time to time. The doors to said office are tall and heavy glass doors that swing easily the first 75% of the way, and then prove to be quite stubborn. I reach the office with saxophone in hand, and apply the sufficient amount of force that allows me to slip through before it quickly closes behind me. Only today, I don't slip through quite so easily. My sax catches on the long door handle while I'm halfway through and jerks me to a sudden halt (a distressed 'UMPH' may have come out). Now, I'm mentally committed on getting through this doorway because there is no way that I'm going go out and 'try again'. That would admit defeat, and that cannot be permitted.  I am also physically committed because my entire left side is in the office and I am kind of unable squeeze back through the now much smaller opening. My response to this situation is to power through and force open the door, which at this point is at that 75% marker where it refuses to go any further without warranting a sufficient shove that may endanger coworkers or office materials. As a result, I am now pinned between my saxophone, and the doorway, my arms either committed to holding an instrument or lodged themselves. I can't go back, I can't go forward. I simply can't even.

Grunts and curses are uttered, coworkers turn to look, I'm becoming increasingly disruptive and noisy as I helplessly shake my saxophone to try and dislodge it while trying to push the door open with no free hands. More coworkers are now watching, some distressed, as I twist and shove more vigorously. Teachers are now behind me waiting to enter the office, watching the back side of someone shaking in the doorway with no visual explanation as to why. At this point, I've become aware of the fiasco that is unfolding and decide avert eye contact with anyone and give 'er the full brunt of my feeble morning strength. I finally manage to push (now using my face fore extra force) the door open just enough for the rest of me to stumble through, my freed saxophone case banging on the doorway with a thud as the final, previously oblivious coworkers turn to witness my seemingly endless struggle. 

This was before the kids even arrived...

Period two was computer class. I usually dread computer class because there is always some new surprise lurking in the lesson that will rear its head and derail the entire class. Some days it's that one of the computers won't turn on. Other times it might be that one of the students can't remember their login and needs to get to their files but can't because they forgot like the little turkeys they are. This past Monday, however, was going suspiciously smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that I let my guard down. FIRST MISTAKE OF LIFE STUART.

I go to help one of my students at the computers, and to do this I get down to their level because nobody likes someone three times your size towering over you trying to tell you to learn things the right way. So I'm crouched beside Kiddo #1 who needs help navigating microsoft paint (No, I'm not training a small team of MS Paint animators so my 'FantasticFeenstra Promotions' side business can be outsourced to China-Not-China upon my departure, but that's a very interesting idea...). I send him in the right direction with a polite version of "literally look at the board and read the instructions" and an encouraging pat on the shoulder (see picture below), only to hear another high-pitched "MISTER STEWWURT" coming from across the room. I respond by springing up to try and find the source of the cry for help, only my phone, which is sitting in my breast pocket of my favourite purple shirt (that happens to match my favourite purple tie) catches on the lip of the table I was previously crouched against. 

With a sudden "rrrRRRTTZZ" my chest becomes a little cooler and my spirits sink a little lower when I look down to find a gaping hole. It's 10 am. I now have to continue at school for another 6 hours wearing the evidence that many have suspected from my earlier ordeal in the doorway; I am a dingus.  


The onslaught perpetrated towards my clothing didn't stop there. I even got pen on my tie, luckily it wasn't my favourite purple tie that I had forgot to iron (that is an entirely other planet of 'things I should take care of but simply cannot'), but now I don't know what to do with this tie I paid real money for but only used for a grand total of THREE times (yes I try to keep track of how many times I wear my ties because I like a good variety of ties because it's FUN OKAY).

I was even invited out to dinner with a pair of friends, only to embarrass myself and others with a relentless tide of rude table manners in the form of spilling beer, spitting food and being a butt in a public space. I will save you (and myself) from that story.

Now it's mid-October and I'm running out of money and my OSAP loans are almost due.
Did I mention that I've had a fish bone stuck in my throat for a week and a half now? It doesn't bother me as much as it used to but it's still chilling out, jabbed into my neck-tube esophagus and waiting to be dealt with. "But Stuart you should really have th-" SHHHH. I'll take care of it when I can be bothered, and I am also hoping I can just have a big bite of something and hope it goes away. Perhaps I'll visit the hospital this coming Wednesday when I've got the day off. Thank all things good in the world for days off during the working week. 
Watching the office off-and-on since September, I am slowly coming to the realization that I am very much like Michael Scott. A man who's life is both propelled and hampered by a relentless stream of barely-manageable crises. Much like Michael Scott, a bit of luck, a handy favour, and the rare grain of clever thinking lets me continue to the next day relatively intact. Perhaps if you send a letter my way (or at least your address) I can share some of the other many stories that come along with being the kind of hopeless person that I am. The next batch of letters will be sent in only a short time. 

Pour Mangia - A Vencadora

Today is Saturday, a day used for shopping. I can use this blog as a self-assuring explanation for not yet leaving the house. If I put on Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf, eat some dark chocolate, and open the window to let the fresh Chinese-not-Chinese air in, I can even convince myself that I am enjoying an accomplished day of much productivity. I've decided to start the sub-blog dedicated to some of the tasty restaurants to be found in town, entitled 'Pour Mangia'. 

So it turns out that eating out is a popular thing here and there are plenty of restaurants to choose from. Kitchens are typically small, food in restaurants is relatively cheap, fresh and tasty. As long as you're able bodied and not burdened by dozens of squirming, crying babies, you're likely going out for dinner (although some people might still try). On a given night, you'll find plenty of young couples, families, middle-aged workers, and grey-haired retirees dining (I suppose this is also the case back at home, but considering that people tend to congregate amongst people more like themselves, it was remarkable to see such a diverse crowd in just about every local restaurant). The local joints are about 80% Asian (Cantonese, Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, Japanese, etc), 15% Portuguese (Which may be the next setting of 'Pour Mangia'), and 5% other things. You can hunt down something else if you're really looking for it. Eating out is a great. I don't know if it's good FOR me, but here's the first installment of 'Pour Mangia'

Yesterday, prior to a night of birthday celebrations for one of our art teachers, a few friends and I went over to Macau side for a bite to eat at a proper Macanese restaurant, 'A Vencadora', apparently opened in 1918. (I borrowed this and the next picture from another blog because I had forgotten to take a good shot of the front and inside).

To my knowledge, when defining 'Macanese food', I believe it's the mixture of Cantonese/Chinese food and Portuguese/European food. There are plenty of restaurants that serve traditional food from both of those previously-mentioned cuisines, but Macanese restaurants are a little different from them both.  

This is what your typical local place will look like. Simple furniture, fluorescent lighting, draped in a soundtrack of clinking, laughing and Cantonese chatter. 

This is what you'll find at your table. White pepper, salt, vinegar, and toothpicks (at some places they'll even have chili oil and some kind of tasty sauce). Pretty common stuff in these types of restaurants. 

While we take our time ordering, a beer is in order! Tsingtao beer, probably the most popular brand in China, as well as China-not-China. You can get them as cheap as $1 CDN for a can in your (well, my) local supermarket. Not entirely bad stuff, or maybe I'm just used to it. You can trick your inexperienced friends into ordering the big ones (500 ml) instead of the small ones (333ml) for a fun evening in the name of not-wasting-any-beer. 
Menus will usually have pictures, or have English names. Ours had both, but they were separate, so we used the old 'point and grunt' tactics that seem to help me along so well. See that chicken in the middle below the tomato-y thing and above that long fish-with-a-face? Well, prepare to get a better look shortly. 

Something distinctly European about this restaurant (or perhaps, Macanese) was the pre-meal serving of buns, butter and peppers. This is what you'll usually get to start a meal at a Portuguese restaurant, so it gives a bit of a clue towards what you're in for (sort of). 

Oh baby. Here it is. This chicken was one of the best kinds of chicken there is. A simple, slow-cooked masterpiece with all the tasty juices for dipping your potatoes and bread. Our other dish (aside from the rice below) was a curried beef brisket that was eaten so quickly I only had a chance to snap a pic of the almost-empty plate (it's the first picture of this post, at the top of the page).  

This is an example of Macanese fried rice. You've got ham, you've got eggs, and you've got your rice. Sometimes you'll find some chorizo sausage or vegetables in there too, depending on the restaurant's take on the dish. As you can see, everything is served tapas style, and dishes are shared throughout the table. While I'm used to doing this after being here a while, I really think it's the better way to do things. 

All in all, the four of us had a full meal & drinks for about 100MOP each ($16 Canadian), a pretty good price considering we live in a packed city with a uncomfortably-close-to-Toronto property & rental rates. At those prices, there will be plenty more meals out, and with that, more blog posts to come all about the delicious hidden treasures scattered around the country/city. Until then, I will leave you with that tingling desire to visit, eat and lay on the beach (but not go in the water) in Macau.