No Day like a Snow Day

This is Canada. Not Macau. Just so you know.

Many of you at home in Canada will scoff at the notion of our Macanese winters. You have snowfall, slippery roads & driving (my favourite kind of driving), fresh air, Christmas lights, and a respectable selection of hot drinks & comfort food to keep yourself cozy and delightful when the weather is cold and frightful. I got a healthy taste of winter during my Christmas break when I visited (something I still look back on with a heart-wrenching longingness to return as soon as possible. T-Minus exactly 5 months to the day, from today, in case you're counting). I find that Canadian winters are really nice. The freshness of the air, the beauty in nature after a healthy snowfall, the sense of community that emerges when we see a neighbour with an unshoveled sidewalk or a someone spinning their tires, stuck in the snow. I don't believe I could call myself a self-respecting Canadian if I didn't get at least a bit of joy from the prospect of snow and ice. But as you probably know from reading this or any previous installment of the Interlude, I'm no longer in Canada.

What winter looks like here. Wet, chilly, but still green. 

I have a snow day. In Macau. The higher authorities have decided to cancel classes for tomorrow, so that gives us a day of kid-free school to plan, mark or just roll around on the carpet while listening to 1920's jazz. Why would they do such a thing, you say? You may think that we don't have real winters here in China-not-China. It does not snow, you'll never slip on a patch of ice, and you won't ever find shovels, boots or antifreeze stocked on the shelves of your neighbourhood stores. So what's the big deal?

Today holds the official title of being the single coldest day in Macau history, squeezing in at just 3 degrees above freezing point. That may sound like a tolerable, or even mild, November afternoon, but we're not built for winter here. During this wonderful season we reap the struggles of a region that is designed to cope with the thick heat & humidity of July, not the piercing coldness of January. Myself, my roomate, and most of my coworkers are currently quadrouple-layered, sipping hot chocolate, tea & matcha, and cuddling with their space heaters, the hazard of fire being a much more welcome prospect than usual. Many of us have not left bed, never mind our homes, out of fear that we will catch hypothermia or pneumonia somewhere between the kitchen and the bathroom. If you still don't quite grasp the seriousness of the situation, perhaps you'd like to see what a chilly day means for us in the glorious land of China-not-China. 

You see this? This is my floor. The is also the floor of nearly every apartment in town. What is it made of you say? Tile. Ceramic Tile. That means if you want to complete simple actions like getting a cup of tea, fetching your phone charger, or just completing the 8 steps it takes to reach the toilet, you have to play your very own game of 'The floor is Lava', only this time it's liquid nitrogen, and it freezes your puppies to the bone the moment you make contact. I was forced to iron my socks, with my feet still inside them, to maintain any trace of sensation in my toes. 


This is my apartment. As you can see, there are no heating vents that spout warm air. We also lack the wonders of insulation, that pink cotton-candy material that goes in the walls to keep the cold from seeping in like rainwater into your socks during a long walk to the shawarma grill/spagetti house. Our walls and windows do not insulate heat, they absorb it and give you ice-cold chills in exchange, much like that rip-off Pokemon card trade of your childhood that left you bitter and resentful towards all things fun.

Or I could have a warm shower! NO THAT WOULD BE TOO EASY. Our water pipes run inside the walls. The walls are bone-chillingly cold and our pipes are in the walls, and the walls are so cold that the warm water can't reach any faucet before becoming ice-cold. I tried running our hot water faucet for a good 10 minutes without result. 

Imagine coming home from a brisk winter's day, with your coat, scarf, gloves & layers keeping you warm, only to arrive at home and find that it's 10 degrees in your apartment. Try to cook, use your computer, or do laundry and you'll find that your hands become too frigid and fumbley to do anything useful with, so you give up and crawl back into bed. To make things worse, it's been raining throughout the day, leaving the neighbourhood in a constant state of miserable dampness that lingers for days barring any hopes you had of drying your clothes on the line. I tried to rectify this using a space heater, only to find that it heats nothing except for the 1 square foot of space directly in front of the fan. I'm faced with the choice of having dry clothes or a warm body, at the moment I think I'll just assume the fetal position and simply wait for the cold weather to pass.  The cold transcends all things. All thoughts. All beings of existence. There is no escape. No way out. There is only the lingering cold that dampens all hopes. 

I'm just keeping my eyes on the prize at this point, in this case the prize being a week in Tieland with two massive pals. I'll keep you posted. 

 

Tales of Treachery: Back Into the Fray

After a couple weeks away from China-not-China, I had forgotten the little things about my kids (yes, they belong to me) that make them so ridiculous. Now, with exams out of the way, I've the time to share just a few moments from school that I think you'll enjoy.

I had my first mini-crisis at work this past week; Things unfolded in such a way that I had to print out about 250 pages of exam papers (plus exam keys) in a minuscule window of ten minutes, only to later find that the downstairs printer was jammed, and the upstairs printer had a hefty backlog of jobs already. The end result was a very unflattering and uncomfortable sprint from one end of the school to another, dislodging ties and causing an awful racket throughout the building. Somehow I managed to deliver all the paperwork on time, but early-morning cardio in corduroy and a sweater vest is not exactly fun.

We have a big fun reading goals party each semester for those students who read themselves to near-blindness and rack up enough points to satisfy my insatiable hunger for literate young brains. Being a new semester, I needed a new idea for our spring goals party. My solution to this (as is my go-to procedure) was to pass it off to provide an opportunity for leadership & creativity for my kids. I presented a small paper box to the class and stated that I'd be picking an idea from it as the basis for our party. As each student would put their ideas in the box over the course of the day, a few eager beavers wanted to increase the chances of their idea being the one picked. Without my immediate knowledge, it now seems that two particular students wrote no less than 12 copies of their own ideas and stuffed them in with the others, I suppose they wouldn't realize that I know their handwriting, and that there are two particular ideas written on two specific pieces of scrap paper scribbled in two certain styles of ham-fisted printing. I'm no detective, but I think there are one or two students trying to game the system (accidentally or otherwise), most likely in competition with each other. What I should end up doing is starting Monday morning's class in a regretful tone, saying that "I'm sad that I didn't get enough ideas for our party. I thought you guys were really pumped to do something cool, maybe we'll just have cold-rice and listen to quiet music at our desks...", all while watching their respective reactions and maintaining my best poker face. Hahaha I think that would be perfect. 


I have, on my desk, a large cylindrical container filled with the most ridiculous snack I'd yet found in Macau; these things called 'Cheese Rings'. They have none of the crispy tastiness of cheetos combined with none of the basic satisfaction of junk food, coupled with the nutritional value of a page of dirty newspaper. My kids love them and will find just about any way to get their hands on one (or seventy). Since I had to replenish my stock for the new year, I brought in a new container on our first day back, mentioning to the class that the Cheese Rings were back, and I'd be giving them to students who bent to my will most eagerly. Then, from NOWHERE AT ALL, came a sort of competition between students to see who could earn and consume the most Cheese Rings as possible. Maybe they eat yucky breakfasts and need the sustenance to make it through the day. Maybe it was just a hasty urge to ensure that they got some dirty newspaper snacks before they ran out again. Maybe they're just kids and like stuffing their faces with dreadful wheels of powdered cheesy fried corn. All I know is, my class has been transformed into groups of hungry hippos looking for a quick snack. From what I can see, they've divided themselves into the following groups:

> Keener Cleaner Karens who will swoop in like a hawk and sort out any spill, mess, or knocked-over recycle bin in mere seconds and promptly report back to you of their hard work & success.
> Proud Pennys who will declare how well they followed our morning routines, and that they think they're doing a really really good job at being really good.
> Brown-nosing Billys that will lavish you with compliments and kind words galore while you are sitting at your desk and then eye the box of tasty treasures, thinking it will be convenient for me to simply hand them out to the person closest to me.

Nice try kiddos.

This learning made possible by cheese rings

You're not getting those Cheese Rings. Cheese Rings are my secret weapon. Cheese Rings are my tool. Cheese Rings are my saviour when it's the end of the day and the majority of you are rowdy, noisy and swinging from the ceiling. That's when I peel off the plastic lid and start handing out snacks to those select three or four who are doing what they're supposed to be doing, without being reminded. That's when the others begin to catch on and hastily scramble back to their desks, thinking that I, Mr. Stuart, had no idea what was going on just prior, and that they are next in line for a tasty snack. NOPE. Mr. Stuart sees your tricks. He knows how you work, and he knows that Cheese Rings have a magical power that he will continue to wield until his final days.

We start our actual classes tomorrow, so I suppose I should go review my lesson plans, make leveled reading groups, make a new seating plan, and the other grown-up stuff I do to make brains work properly. 

Home for Christmas

Well, well, well, I believe it's time for a special video. You've all been very patient, and now that I've finally arrived back at my place, unpacked my grampa clothes, rinsed off 29 travelling hours worth of shmutz, and have sat down with some internet, it's time to fill you in on the whole conspiracy, top to bottom. I suppose it would also be a good idea to give a shout out to a whole bunch of people and share a few photos in the process (of which I do not have many of my own, so I will do the textbook move and steal them from facebook). But enough introduction, I know what most of you came here for, so let's get to it.

------------------- OPERATION CHRIMBUS SURPRISE -------------------

Background: Like most teachers, I have two weeks off for my Christmas/Winter holidays. I knew, the moment I left for Macau this spring past, that I would return home for Christmas and surprise most people. I should mention that most of this was possible due to the efforts of my partner-in-deception Murray, When my parents & I last said goodbye in the summer, I made it clear that flying to Canada during the holidays was too expensive and therefore unfeasible. This developed into an extensive plot of me going to the Philippines with three friends (I needed to check the weather, memorize the name of the island, and find the corresponding airline & flight number for a complete story). Even after arriving, I made sure to whatsapp Mom & Dad at times that would seem as though it was daytime in Asia. With everything in place, it was time to pull off the surprise.

Execution: I needed a little extra manpower to pull of this plan properly, so I roped in pals extraordinaire Murray & Rachel. They would show up at my parent's door, asking for baked goods (I had notified mom of their visit date, arrival time & intentions days ahead of time) to ensure that Mom would be at home, and then be busy in the kitchen, fully distracted with something else. This gave me a bit of time to take my shoes & coat off, and for Murray to get a proper space to tape the whole thing. In the video, you'll see her taking out tray after tray of goodies (which we did end up claiming in the end), while I'm slipping off my coat and sneaking through the house. I'd explain Mom's reaction, but I think the video speaks for itself. Apologies for the vertical video. 

 After much screaming and jumping and flailing of arms, there was quite a bit of wooden-spoon abuse directed towards myself and Murray in the form of "YOU ASSHOLE YOU WERE IN ON IT HOW COULD YOU SCARE ME LIKE THAT DURING THE HOLIDAYS NOW I HAVE TO MAKE A FULL DINNER AND GO SHOPPING FOR PRESENTS AND CHRISTMAS CRAP". Classic Mom. Still worth it though. 

Little Kitty (who is, incidentally, bigger)

Peggy (who is, incidentally, smaller)

Coming home also means discovering the new little things here and there that have changed while you've been gone. For example, we now have a second cat, this one from my brother who is moving into an apartment that isn't pet friendly. The black one proudly stuffed into a gift bag is our first, and the 'lil stinker on my shoulder is the newest one. Having the littlest one roll around in my suitcase was an entertaining ordeal while I was trying to pack. 

I set myself up for a doozy of a week of events, and I consider myself luck that I didn't fall ill during the break at any time, all things considered. Jazz was listened to, Blitz was conducted in a dutch fashion, families were brought together for food, drink & dad talk, and much money was spent on silly things that I did not entirely need. While it was a sort of jugggling act to stay on top of the multiple hangs each day, I got to see some fantastic people (although not all fantastic people I wanted to see) and do some fantastic things. I even had the distinct pleasure of making a few new friends along the way, which doesn't often happen when you're so focused on seeing the folks you want to catch up with. Bonus points to Murray for karting me around Southern Ontario and spending 9 of my 12 days back with me. What a champ. 


I suppose that a big part of Christmas, besides eating a month's worth of food in a week, getting pine needles in your socks and endlessly spilling egg nog on your sweaters is spending time with family. Mind you, I lived with my family since I was born. During undergrad, and through the better half of teacher's college, I was at home, always within shouting distance of pleas ranging from 'get the wifi working on the phone again' to 'which remote do we use to get the Netflix going'. I didn't have to be gone that long to realize and appreciate the things that make a family a family. I suppose this past 8 months is the longest I've been away from home (believe it or not), and it was both refreshing and exhausting to be back. Dad was surprised and pleased to have me back, home felt a little warmer with everyone around, and the holidays became what they've always been, a source of continuity, that 'home' feeling. I think I may just be back next Christmas as well.

I apologize for not taking more pictures of the various adventures during the break. I neglected to remember their being a phone attached to my camera (I didn't often use my phone, which wasn't all a bad thing). 

That New Years was the single best celebration of the new year I've had yet. A group of friends from camp & elsewhere gathered at the cottage we visit during the summer for a rather irregular but spectacular New Years near Owen Sound. I'll let the pictures do the talking, because they're more interesting to look at than endless words. I certainly hope this becomes a regular event. 

Apologies to the late guests who did not make the photo

 

I could write more about the hangs, the food eaten, or the ancient jalopy of a machine I recently inherited from a friend, but I think I'll leave things where they are. I am quite honestly overwhelmed with the amount of awesome things that happened over the past two weeks, and while I'm still excited to see my kiddos and jump into a new year, it hurts to go away again knowing you won't be back for another half year. For those of you who I saw & didn't see, take care of yourselves until I see you again.