Skip to main content

Rainy Sunday

The weather gave us a gift this weekend. It was horrible.

We had planned to head straight from work on Friday to take in some sights in Busan, but the rain poured down and threats of a typhoon kept us away from the seaside town.

It was a blessing in disguise as what we both really needed was to do nothing all weekend. We are still covering off shifts which means we are working a lot longer with a lot more kids and that means more energy and time spent not only teaching but perparing.

By Friday, we were both so wrecked. We made a pact that there would be no negative school talk - sometimes we can't resist telling each other what our little ones do like when James tried to eat paste or when Alex kept 'cheating' all the other students - but it was more to keep the negative vibes of the politics surrounding the current work environment.

It amazed me how on Friday night, after a couple of glasses of wine and a hour of no negative work talk (NNWT), we felt refreshed.

For the next few weeks, our weekends will be our peace time. And, as much as I'd love the weather to explore, what I needed were two days of crappy stuff to regroup.

I keep telling myself this week will be better. It's only Monday but I'm not feeling AS drained as I did last Monday. Fingers crossed.

I'm also struggling with the culture shock side effects I think. We were listening to a Westlife song on Saturday night and I burst into tears, thinking about everything and everyone in Belfast we left behind. I was homesick for a place that I only called home for 2 years.

And, as nostalgia always is, I was forgetting all the reasons we wanted to leave. The monotany of drinking every weekend. The frustration of work life in a place where innovation is slightly lacking. The lack of ANYTHING to do but go to the pub. The costs. The weather. The feeling that if I'm going to simply set up a life, why am I not setting it up near my family? All these things escape your mind when you're looking back fondly

Culture Shock hitting me harder this time then it ever has before. I suppose on one hand it's good that I can recognise that this is what's happening.

I have a friend from university who has lived in much more exotic places then I - Rwanda, Papua New Guinea, China and most recently Kuwait - who I've had conversations with about the culture shock thing.

Although hers has been much more extreme, I feel like I can relate to a recent email she sent me, saying that she was having culture shock worse then she'd ever had it before. I can only imagine the differences in living like a place in Kuwait but I also feel like we're in a similar position.

You start to think it gets easier. You've done this more than once. And then it hits you like a brick wall. And you feel al bit helpless because you know how long it's going to last. And you know the types of things that will fix it. And you know how long it can take to make those things happen.

So just in the waiting game at the moment. The change is what makes it hard and I'm sure it will change all over again once the new foreign teachers arrive.

So I know this isn't over yet.

As a little hero I used adore once said, 'The sun will come out tomorrow'

Let's just hope I'm not in need of another vegging weekend when it does.

Comments

Anonymous said…
"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger"...... for what it's worth.

I'll send you a countdown calendar next time.

much love
ms and our best friend..rgv

Popular posts from this blog

I'm baaaack!

Hard to believe that last entry was almost three years ago!

Many moons ago, I set this blog up to chronicle our journeys. Once we were grounded a bit more, it kind of lost its way. I spent some time working on my writing offline, taking on different projects and working full time as a technical writer. It was difficult to keep this blog up. Not for any real reason I can articulate. Just had my words redirected to other avenues for awhile.
But, I'm pleased to say, after over a decade away, we are back in the UK, living and re-experiencing a place we enjoyed in the mid-2000s.
Social media has certainly changed the way we look at blogs. I'm excited to navigate this new world, explore just what people post, what people read. What's better on one of the many new platforms and what's still appropriate for good old fashioned blogosphere.
For now, here's a peek at where we're staying -- in a pretty little village just outside of Oxford. A temporary home for now but suc…

Focus

My regular journaling has significantly improved my mood.

I've been taking some time, twice a week, to polish existing content as well as develop my floating ideas into a more concrete outline.

I've felt this focus for the last 6 weeks that I can't really describe properly. It's as though I've shifted my thinking totally. Writing is my craft. It's what I do, who I am, how I exist. It's like my mojo.

So, I guess, I've gotten my mojo back. My focus, my purpose, my essence.

And it feels good. It feels right. And I am almost understanding more now why the best writing of the best writers happens when they are older, more polished, more experienced, more rough around the edges.

When all the youthful spark has been extinguished and what's left, is the determined embers, that will not go softly, that will not die out. That will continue, fervently glowing, creating warmth and not just drawing attention from its flicker, but pulling people in by it's so…

In Remembrance

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,."

When I was eight years old, I carried the Canadian flag in the Remembrance Day parade for our Brownie unit. I can't really remember when I realized the importance of November 11 but I can only imagine that somewhere between learning about that day at school and taking part in a very solemn ceremony that it must have been ingrained in my head to always mark this day.

   "That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly"

I remember growing up, the assemblies at school, always with a older veterans, in those days many from both World Wars, would attend. When I got to high school, I remember not being able to fathom how these decorated men and women, had once been my age, had once stood up and fought, and had made these decisions during the same years I would try to decide which route to take from English to Science just to maybe catch a glimpse of my current cru…