Korea: The Most Pleasant Place on Earth

Korea is an impressively pleasant place. Impressively. Pleasant. You could draw similarities from Chinese and Japanese culture, but at the same time there is defeintiely something unique and impressively pleasant about the culture there (like, say, our beloved land of Canadia being compared to an Anglo-American smoothie with a dash of maple syrup and beaver tail). Busan itself is the little brother to Seoul, a well-rounded city with tons of neat stuff to be done. I only had about a day and a half to spend in the country, but Korea is truly unlike anything else I've experienced.

My good friend Matt "We like Matt" Pocketwatch was by host and guide for the very short weekend. He, like his friends who I had the pleasure of sharing these adventures with, work at a language center in Busan and enjoy the bustling city life that makes a Macau resident like myself green with envy. The wide open spaces, fresh air, and general pleasantness of Korea contrasted the things that Macau doesn't have strong suits in. It was surprisingly refreshing to get a pint of craft beer, or be on public transit where the riders are quiet, polite and well-behaved (it was a struggle to me to follow suit).

One of last weekend's indulgences was Karaoke (called Nori bong), which has a big following in Korea (and I mean a BIG following). Participation involves booking a private room with couches & tables, food service and a tv/entertainment unit complete with videos of the majestic Korea countryside to accompany your lovely rendition of Sweet Caroline. You can order a whole array of food & beverages to ensure that your group is well supplied for the hours of hopeless tone-deaf wailing. I'd love to show you a video I took from that night, but I'm afraid it is neither flattering from a musical nor adult point of view.

Holi Hai is a celebration in Indian culture where people throw pastel-coloured paint powder at each other (I believe this is where our Western version of paint-parties came from). Why it was taking place in Busan is beyond me, but Matt lived up to his pal status and booked us a pair of tickets, to join his work friends. We snacked on some great samosas, sported our white t-shirts, and. I learned that I'm really bad at throwing paint; underhand, overhand, with my left or my right, at close range or at a distance, my throws ended in the powder helplessly dissipating into the air, or blinding friends and strangers alike through direct hits to the cornea. It made for some very colourful-yet-squinty partying, and it looks fuggin cool. 

I wasn't diligent enough to go out for actual Korean food, instead opting for Indian, Burgers, steak & bakery snacks instead. Korean fried chicken is one of my favourite foods, but due to reasons, it never ended up on a plate in front of my face. One of the best things I did consume was a thing called Makkoli, which rhymes with broccoli and tastes nothing like it. It's a rice-wine-kind-of drink that comes in a tin teapot and is served in simple (usually scratched/beat up) tin bowls. Some of you may think "But didn't you have Soju Stuart?" and, no, I can't say that I did. Despite Korea being a nation of ~30 million people, Soju is the most consumed liquor in the world by net volume (this gives you an idea of how available & consumed it is throughout the country). I stayed 20 nautical miles well away from the stuff because of its reputation for taking the life from your very body before you're even finished drinking it. I only had about 14 hours sleep between 3 nights anyways, and I didn't exactly feel like crawling back to work on my hands and knees. 

Korea really is impressively pleasant, even the cherry blossom trees were in FULL BLOOM. LOOK AT THAT. There were cute little bakeries on every block, fresh strawberries being sold out of the beds of tiny trucks, wide sandy beaches with soft beige sand, and access to tasty, inexpensive food & beverages no matter where you went. It was a whirlwind tour that could have only been made better with fried chicken, which is my own damn fault for not injecting into the weekend. Matt, I will be back, and I will be ready for as much Korean Fried Chiggin as you can throw at me. 

Writing

I must start with an apology to those of you who depend on my spectacular writing to keep your weeks fun and interesting. Lately, posts have been getting few and far in between due to many reasons, mostly due to writing. My apology does not extend to those of you in the past month that have received the product my previously mentioned spectacular writing in hard copy form: Letters & Postcards.

I won't bore you with how I think I'm old fashioned. I won't say how terribly interesting it is to take things to a building, say a few words to a person, and have said things arrive at their respective destinations across the globe. I certainly won't toot my own horn and say how much of a clever person I am for going below and beyond blinking beeping electronic social media to share a story with someone. But I will say that it's PRETTY NEAT!

When it comes to doing neat things that help you be the best you, everyone is different. Some people enjoy painting, some like to jog, some like to meditate. I write to have fun, connect with my friends, and share dumb, embarrassing and neat stories (Like when you get your student's reading prizes stuck in the laminator, jamming it to the frustration of your class & all your coworkers).
If this sounds neat to you, I warmly invite you to take up the pen (or perhaps the keyboard). Sometimes the writing flows smoothly, sometimes it gets stuck in a rut and you don't know what to do. Don't be discouraged, get some pizza and come back to it tomorrow. Aside from increased pizza intake, here's what you mind find about writing.

The Downsides:I realize that we live in the 21st century, where wi-fi waves, robotic delivery drones, and internet-ordered pizza rules over our lives with an iron fist of convenience. If you're going to write a letter to someone, you're going to need all the gear, a good chunk of time, and the ability to make conversation on your own (not just reposting the buzzfeed articles and political videos that seem to jam up the tubes of our newsfeeds). Like I said, it's not for everyone, but if you think you can handle those things, continue right on to...

The Upsides:
Taking yourself away from the hustle, the glaring lights and the constant "MISTER STUART BILLY ATE MY ERASER AGAIN" noises that emit from day-to-day life and echo in my head. It's pretty therapeutic, when you make time for it. Writing in your It also makes (in the words of Dr. Steve Brule) 'the lonely times not so awful'. Did I mention how incredibly NEAT it is to get letters in return? Most people are considerate enough to return the sentiment and send you a letter of your own. This results in the feeling of coming home from work/school/the nearest Mexican restaurant (probably in a hurry) and finding that there is a letter in your mailbox. A LETTER. Written in INK. With YOUR name scribbled on the front. I almost always exclaim "OH BOY" every time I find something on the school reception desk for me.

If you'd to do it yourself:
In the scenario that you consider yourself an interesting and literate person, you'll need a bit of gear to start. Notably, you'll need a package of envelopes, a notepad and a decent pen (they sell these things at stores, the buildings where you can pick out what you want before bringing it to the front and giving the nice fellow/lady some money). A little pro-tip; get yourself a pen with a 1.0 MM point, that means the ball at the end is a little bigger and will glide over the paper with all the smoothness and grace you'd expect from one of my antiquated Mercedes. Gel pen is pretty nice as long as your letters don't fall into Hong Kong Bay with the rest of your valuables. But since you're probably not as hopeless as I am, that advice is likely not applicable. 

That's about it, you're set! Now it's just a matter of putting words on the paper (bonus points for adding rough pictures, enthusiastic all-capital phrases, and your own fancy signature). And, of course, if you want to return the sentiment and send something my way, you are MORE than welcome to do so. Here's where your things should end up: (the C/O Means CARE OF. Because they employ me and my apartment mailbox keeps my mail about as dry as cheese)

Stuart Feenstra

c/o School of the Nations

Rua de Minho

Taipa, Macau, S.A.R. CHINA

Happy Thai-nese New Year

Yes, it's Chinese New Year. Not the one in January that happened last month (while that was quite the adventure). The new year in Chinese culture is a big deal here; think Christmas married New Years and had a 1st of July honeymoon (4th for any Americans who have somehow found their way here). Lots of lanterns and decorations go up in parks and outside businesses, the city gradually grows quieter, and my classroom slowly comes apart at the seams as the impending holiday grows nearer. 

As a disclaimer, it's probably not a good idea to be anywhere Chinese-ish while the new year is taking place. While the locals travel home to see their families and do all nature of holiday things (so much so that it has become the biggest migration of humans on the face of the earth), China is CLOSED. Businesses, supermarkets, restaurants, your favourite Kebab shack around the corner. NOPE. Most sensible migrant workers (such as myself) go abroad to take advantage of the 9 days off. Even though I'm not always sensible, I thought I would try and look the part, so I booked a ticket and embarked on what would become one of the most thoroughly enjoyable adventures of my life. 

Thailand. Land of the golden waxed thunder thighs; My destination was Chiang Mai, a 900-year-old city in the northern part of the country. With a little convincing, I was able to rope in two pals to join me on a week-long expedition that hadn't had a morsel of planning put into it. While there was a lot that happened in this wonderful country, I'll highlight/summarize the neatest bits to try and keep this under dictionary-length. 

Chiang Mai is pretty neat. I announced this aloud to my friends nearly every day. Unlike southern Thailand, which is beach & party-heavy, the north was quieter,
kind of a hippie retreat, but not so bad that I would feel shamed for showering or being able to digest glutenous foods. We found ourselves a ton of things to do just through the hostels we stayed at, I definitely recommend going places with next-to-no plans, because I definitely would not have had as good as a time as I did with a metric butt-ton of commitments. 

So here they are. Landon is a fellow I endured music school with a few years back and we made plenty of jazz. PLENTY. He's been travelling in Asia for the past two months, and will be for another two. Jade is a gem of lady I went to teacher's college with just last year [SECTION 8 PAR-TI-CI-PATE], who now lives in Kuala Lumpur making learning go. With our powers combined, we made a pretty spectacular week come together. 

Item number one (and only) on the menu was to get our hands on some two wheeled transportation. Since the three of us had never ridden motorcycles before, we started in easy mode and got these simpler machines to use while in town. You've got to change the gears with your feet, but there's no pesky clutch to deal with (think of an automatic car with those numbers you can shift into). We spent our first day learning how to ride whilst checking out the town, hiking through a national park (complete with waterfall climbing) and heading to a gorge with ~30 foot drops and clear blue water for a swim. Turns out there was a tasty Thai restaurant that overlooked the quieter side of the gorge. You can spot the divers in the distance if you take a look for yourself. Legitimate Thai food is pretty incredible. I mean, jam-packed with flavour, a beautiful marriage of spicy, sour, sweet and savoury, gleaming with colour, served tapas-style so everyone can have a taste. It's going to be hard to go back to the same stuff made here. 

Landon parted ways with us to meet another friend in the area, and so the two of us went to a village for a 2-day trip. Thatched roofs, elephants, a quiet river you can stick your feet in. There were also a group of other travelers who we met, who I quickly converted to Dutch Blitz fanatics. I never considered doing things like hiking, white water rafting, and sleeping in a bamboo house to be part of a standard vacation, but it reminded me of how good it is to spend a good chunk of time outdoors. The neat little ponds, the outlooks, the spots just to pull over and have lunch in the shade & fresh air, they make for the mini-vacation inside the vacation. A pretty neat thing to do. 

We reunited with Landon, and after a good evening of foot massages and roadside banana/nutella crepes, we made plans for the next chapter in the trip; Pai. A village that sits in the mountainous range north of the city, we could either take a bus or risk the 762 bends & curves stretched out over 136 KM of Asian country roads. With no proper riding experience whatsoever, we chose the latter (obviously). 

These are the three bikes we used over our three day trip. Jade had the smaller one to the left, feeling more comfortable without a clutch pedal to worry about. Landon opted for a sleek and stylish Yamaha bike like the uppidy jazz city slicker he is, and I chose the most sensible bike, a 150CC Suzuki with large tires and a comfortable, wide seat. We strapped our bags on the back and hit the road. 

That was probably the best part of the trip, just going. A destination somewhere up ahead, with an unknown road and undiscovered places in between. Learning on the go was an initially daunting yet very rewarding process, and it went pretty damn well. Although there was one moment, while riding, I had thought I had been hit with a handful of gravel. Turns out it was bees, no big deal, just a chestful of bees. They just stuck to my shirt and I pulled over and picked them off very diplomatically. No biggie. Just regular things like bees. 

Pai turned out to be a pretty great place. There was tons of street food (a section of the town is closed to traffic at night for all the vendors), good music (the jazz bar was especially neat), we made some new friends and old ones (who happened to know Landon from his small hometown in Northern Alberta), and just explored the area with no real expectations than to find things that were neat. 

I'm surprised that I'd never thought of this before, but they were serving baked potatoes as street food. They'd grill these babies up in foil over a charcoal fire, and fill them with all nature of tasty goodness. Much like a pizza, you could get tomatoes, onion, pesto, olives, hot peppers, cheese, meat bits, the WORKS (you can see part of the menu for yourself). After staying two nights, we headed back to Chiang Mai for our last night together. 

I suppose I didn't get a lot of touristy photos because didn't do a lot of touristy things (also because I lost my phone somewhere on the road, probably while making engine noises and aggressively shifting gears). I guess that's not what the point of the trip was. We went to find neat things with no real expectations, and we had the absolute best time because of it; Tasty food (and goddamn was there a consistent amount of tasty food), nice massages, fantastic outdoor escapes, making friends, and going fast (next time, without the bees). 

As much as I put on a confident attitude about doing new things, I've had trouble with travelling. During my time off, I'd just like to be with good friends. Meeting people while travelling is great, until the next day comes and you've got to find someone new, or find some comfort in doing things on your own. Man, I feel really lucky to have been able to spend a week with two top-notch human beings who made each day so full and consistently satisfying. Travel, it's a neat thing, but made exponentially better with some good buds to do it with. Nice work you guys. 

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. 

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?