A moment of clarity

Committing yourself to a mind stimulating hobby like writing has been much harder to stick to than I originally thought. Having completed a writing based degree at university, it was something I had been determined to enthusiastically continue now that I was doing something that I thought would be interesting to write about. It appears that teaching takes up a lot more of my mental energy than I anticipated and, at the end of a long day – half spent frantically working at the computer and half spent taming a classroom full of restless, unrelenting kids – I am reluctant to force myself to sit at my computer at home, partially due to paranoia that I would compose a jumble of nonsensical rambling.

Now – or rather when I began to write this entry – I’m on my way to Thailand for a few days break from the hustle and bustle of Guangzhou during the infamously overcrowded Canton Fair season. I am sitting on a plane with nothing occupying my mind except the thrill of knowing that, a) I am once more on my way to experiencing the satisfaction of white powdery sand between my toes, and b) that no hyperactive children that are under my responsibility can drain me of the brain power that I now have to spare.

Guangzhou has been an ideal location in China for someone who wants to experience the true severity of cultural differences from east to west. Integrating into a melting pot of cantonese heritage mixed with a northern Mandarin influence, as well as having the rest of Asia conveniently on my doorstep to enjoy when I need a break from the chaos. I thoroughly enjoy travelling from A to B on my lonesome; I find it a liberating and reflective opportunity, allowing me to take a step back and contemplate the meaning of life, however seriously I decide I’d like to deliberate it. It allows my mind to wander and do as it pleases.

My flight to Thailand was smooth and allowed me to do just what I had looked forward to. I dipped in and out of the only movie they were showing throughout the flight, I studied up a little on my Chinese and then towards the end of my flight had an awkward moment where I “stepped up” and tried to put the little Chinese I knew to good use and help the man next to me fill out his immigration form. He didn’t speak a word of English and having been handed a form with only a choice of English or Thai instructions, he wasn’t making any progress by himself. It didn’t go as well as I would have hoped, but I was more of a help than a hindrance, and he seemed very grateful for my good intentions, even if it was only to volunteer my very limited assistance. I also managed to speak to all the flight attendants in Chinese and stubbornly replied to them in Mandarin even when they insisted on speaking English to me. I definitely need the practice, but I was chuffed to see that they understood me enough to give me the food and drink that I thought I was ordering; enough of an excuse to indulge in a feeling of pride over my wee linguistic triumph. I’m hoping that someday soon I will have no use for the phrase, “Bu hao yisi. Wo bu hui shuo zhong wen.” – I’m sorry, I don’t speak Chinese.

I have found that the most satisfying and clarifying moments of living in Asia have been the ones where I have been having a particularly difficult time at work or experiencing some inner conflict with being so far away from home and everyone that I love. Shortly after this trough, I am able to do something to remind myself of what I am achieving and what opportunities I am giving myself. This job and this location allows me to escape to various breath-taking parts of the world which I may only have the chance to see once. And teaching – my method of funding the experience – may not be what I want to do for the rest of my life, as I have come to recently realise, but it has certainly not left me with less than what I came here with.