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We are in our fourth and final week of our TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) course. We will soon be qualified teachers. Look out. Today was the big exam. We had a lesson to prepare and we had to study. This is more studying I've done in nearly nine years.
Not that I'm studying. I still procrastinate until the last minute and stress about nothing. It always seems like nothing in retrospect. After my lesson was "planned" last night, it was time for a study break. After one beer, I was peer pressured into a second and my night was shot. So much for putting my mind at ease about the test.
Fortunately, I gave the first lesson this morning. Then I studied. Phonology is so much fun. And I passed the exam with flying colors. Well, I passed. I don't know if there were colors or if they were flying. What the hell does that mean anyway?
Everyone in the class passed the test. Apparently nobody has ever failed. If you do, you are given a second chance. With the same exam. They don't want you to fail. I don't think they want to have any angry customers. So pass 'em and let the poor school that hires 'em, fire 'em.
We all know how important it is to hear the music that moves us. That puts us back where we want to be. I haven't had my music for about five months and it was beginning to take its toll. Made that up. But I would have certainly liked to hear Mason Jennings or Sean Hayes or some other familiar voice crooning in my ear at various times during this journey. The best I could do was pull them up on Myspace and hope the connection was fast enough and that the headphones were decent enough.
Last night was the final straw. I went to a bar I was not inclined to go to and saw some live music. The Filipino cover band was shockingly good. And so were the waitresses in their belly shirts, but that's another story. There was hardly a hint of any accent and they brought me back. To the 80's, 90's and the present. I don't know if it's just because I've been subjected to too much karoake over the past few months or if they were actually as good as I thought. Maybe it was because I was drinking. Regardless, it made me want to feel good more often and one way to do that is to get my hands on some familiar, comforting music.
There are a lot of counterfeit goods here in Asia. If you want something, but can't afford it, don't worry! More than likely, if you look, you will find the illegitimate twin of the product you initially wanted. Nike, Crocs, North Face, Polo shirts, Lacoste shirts, beauty products, photocopied books, iPods, phones, motorbikes and naturally cds and dvds. Oh, piracy is a good thing sometimes. I mean if you think about it, anyone who has been pirated has probably already made it big time. And think of all the potential new exposure to people who could have never afforded to buy the real thing in the first place.
I had no idea what kind of music was available until I just looked. Naturally. There has been no need to buy cds until now. But I was pleasantly surprised. Tons of cds for 10,000 dong a piece. That's 62.5 cents! And dvds are a whopping 13,000 dong, which amounts to 81.25 cents. Cheaper than a rental.
I started off with three cds: Jack Johnson, Elliott Smith and the Arctic Monkeys. I can't say I'm too impressed with my choices, but they are a nicer alternative to the music samples that came with this computer. And I can't say I'm impressed with the way this post is turning out. I'm done. I have nothing more to say other than I'm sorry. I've let you down.
Just finished Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and I have a new take on religion. All hail the Great Magnet! On page 105 in Chapter 12, Part One, Hunter S. Thompson writes, "Well, I thought. This is how the world works. All energy flows according to the whims of the Great Magnet. What a fool I was to defy him." Urban Dictionary states that the Great Magnet is a mystical entity known to control all energy. Attempting to oppose the whim of the great magnet is never a good idea. Just envision a giant magnet directing the ebb and flow of life. It's way better than fighting over religions. Mine is better! No, mine! Die, heathen! Whatever, live and let live...
Originally, a long time ago, I thought if I made it this far in my travels, I might be somewhere in India at this point in time. Or maybe leaving India on an overland adventure to France. I figured I would have done a 10-day meditation retreat somewhere in India, gotten dysentery somewhere else in India and eaten an awful lot of curries throughout India as well. And so I imagined myself having shed a lot of weight and coming home looking a lot like I did in high school. Like a skinny motherfucker.
Some might question my need to use inappropriate language. To that, I say fuck off. But seriously, does it really matter? It is really offensive or is an alternative method to describe the matter at hand? A skinny beanpole just doesn't have the same ring to it. Back to what I was saying...
My plans for India got backburnered in Vietnam. The Indian restaurants will have to do for now. I didn't have the energy to keep going all the time and settling in seemed like a great idea. To stop moving about every few days. To have a purpose. A mission. To meet people that I might actually see again. To know that the language I am slowly learning will still be the primary means of communication in another week's time. Fortunately, I liked Vietnam. So, settling in did not sound like a bad idea at all.
It has been nearly five months and I just recently weighed myself for the first time. I hadn't seen a scale for that long. Not that I was looking. Well, there is one scale, like the one at your proctologist's office, that someone pushes around at night that sings and presumably only intoxicated people stand on. I didn't really want to pay a dollar or whatever it might have been to find out something I didn't care to know anyway.
But then I was told about the pharmacies. They all have scales. For free. Who would have thought? Pharmacies are abundant so I found my local Walgreens and stepped on for my free reading. I weighed in at 84kg, approximately twice the size of your average Vietnamese woman. And about half the size of your average female Western tourist. I am doing alright.
I have actually lost some weight, but not to the degree I thought. That is because I have yet to eat street food laden with feces. Or maybe I have, but the strength of my intestinal flora was too much for the offending bacteria. My goal was not actually to lose weight, I just figured I would. I think I am skinny enough. Which is funny since I am quite large compared to those around me. Well, except for the aforementioned Westerners.
My t-shirt size is now an XXL or XXXL. That is up from the size L traditionally worn by yours truly. In underwears, my usual size is a medium. Here, I tried XXL and they rode so far up my crack I had to use hot soapy water to get them out. I refuse to try XXXL just in case they don't fit either. That would be embarassing.
I'm in my new hotel enjoying the quiet air conditioner and the breeze provided by my very own oscillating fan. It is a large room, my bed has pink flowery sheets and I have a non-functioning television and refrigerator. It is on the fifth floor and still receives too much street noise. And so, I still sleep with earplugs. It is ok, I can't complain too much. But you know I'm going to anyway.
It's not really a big deal, but it's on my mind and therefore, it must be released. I don't need a lot of attention, well I lied, I do, but I should say my room does not. You don't need to fix the bed, rearrange the furniture, fold my clothes or put a mint on my pillow. Just give me a clean towel, some toilet paper and take out the trash. For your information, the trash means used toilet paper. Please, take that shit out.
You could also sweep every once in a while and keep things dust free, but those kinds of things should really be done prior to my occupancy. I'm really not that picky. I just don't like someone else's hair clogging the shower drain. I also don't like it when I come home at night and my fan has disappeared. Thanks buddy. And I really don't like bumping the bathroom mirror and having an open tube of genital and labial herpes cream fall into my toiletry kit.
My last hotel's housekeeping was just the opposite. I had fresh soap, toilet paper, fluffy white towels and folded bedsheets. It's the extra little things that actually started to irk me. Pairing up my shoes, stacking up my books, folding my clothes. Do you have to touch everything? I came home one day and found my dirty laundry folded nicely and placed in a bag. Apparently it was all too much to bear sitting in a pile on the floor.
I don't really like anyone touching my dirty underwear. Just a personal preference. That does not mean I have to do my own laundry. I can overlook that. But seriously, if you don't have to, why would you touch someone's dirty drawers? Not that I'm saying mine are dirty of course. And please, stop envisioning me in my underwear.
On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least offending and 10 being the most offending, I'd say dirty underwear would be a 10. What could top that? Then you have dirty socks below that and then maybe shirts and shorts and trousers coming in towards the bottom. The whole thing kind of freaks me out. Makes me think the offending housekeeper might have a fetish with worn underwear. I envision this person taking a long inhalation and prancing around the room with them over their head. Get that imagery out of my head.
What a name. Pure marketing genius. I haven't been here yet, but I will venture forth one day and see what they have to offer.
We are in our fourth and final week of our TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) course. We will soon be qualified teachers. Look out. Today was the big exam. We had a lesson to prepare and we had to study. This is more studying I've done in nearly nine years.
