Update

Well, it feels like so much has happened since my last email, and at the same time as if nothing has! I have been working, a lot. 6 days a week to be exact. Although it’s hard to think of it as work, firstly because I haven’t been paid yet, and secondly because it’s so much fun. The kids are just great. I am now teaching the full range of ages, from 3 to 15. I have 4 classes of my own, and I am also teaching 2 ‘summer camp’ classes and two VIP’s (that’s right 1 on 1’s). It sounds like a lot, but I only teach the VIPs and my own classes once a week. I teach the summer camp 3 times a week, but that’s only for 1 more week. After summer, I’ll have it pretty easy. I’ll only be actually teaching 3.5 days a week, the rest will be either off or ‘planning days’ which is teacher code for day off. The only bummer is that my 3.5 days are Thursday, Friday Saturday and Sunday. But you have to take the good with the bad.

To give you a basic idea of what it’s like teaching English over here, i’ll give you a quick summary of my lesson plan for my ‘small stars’ (kids 3-5 years old). The class runs for 1.5 hours, I spend about 45 minutes of that playing Head shoulders knees and toes, then ring a ring a rosie, then I like to do about 10 minutes of Star Jumps (all the time introducing new concepts in English, for example, stand up, fall down, sit down, run over there, come here, numbers letters etc). Usually by then, the kids are starting to tire, and I am close to vomiting from the exercise. So its song time, we sing some horrible song, like, “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 and 10, Hello again!” there is close to no tune and the music is just irritating but the kiddies love it. Then I hit them with the hard work. That’s right my friends I don’t care if they are 3, my class isn’t all fun and games... actually that’s not true, I normally spend the rest of the time, playing games with picture cards, hide and seek, twister etc. By the end of the 1.5 hours, the kids have been exposed to English, and can understand a little more, maybe even say a few new words, and I am completely stuffed, but happy!

oh, I forgot the puppets. Yes, yes, stop laughing, I too have trouble picturing we sitting crossed legged in front of 6 kids, having a conversation with a puppet. But i'll have you know that Mr Tiger is a lovely bloke, and surprising has an Australian accent. The kiddies go bloody mental for it. They know Mr Tiger is just me with a sock on my hand, but they don't care!!! Ahhh so much fun, and they pay me for this! (Hopefully anyway, refer opening paragraph!) So, what else is happening... Ahh, I bought a push bike today! That’s right my friends, I am now one of the masses. It’s great, I spared no expense and bought the best brand new bike, AUD50 can buy! It’s beautiful, it looks identical to the far more expensive foreign brand ‘Giant’, except it’s made from Chinese parts! I bloody love it; I’ve been out all day today just cruising about. When I get a chance i’ll take some pictures and send them through.

I have also confirmed that my bargaining skills are rubbish. I’m like the guy in monty python’s ‘Life of Brian’. This is how the exchange went (oh, he didn’t speak English, but he had a translation program on his computer, so imagine the below exchange, but with him typing, pulling a face then stepping back so I can type! It was like a Helen Keller convention!):

“It’s a great bike, good quality and good price, 350 yuan” he typed (read said)
“Ok, sounds good I’ll take it” I said and typed
“Yes, I know it sounds expensive but the price of Steel has gone up” he said
“that’s nice, I’ll take it.” Says I
“Ok, ok, i’ll throw in a free basket.” He says
“ cool, a free basket, I’ll take it” i say
“alright, you win, I’ll throw in a free lock and basket, for 350”
“ok, i’ll take it”
“sold!”

It was unbelievable, at one point I thought HE was going to ‘walk away’, only for me to chase after him and convince him I want to pay full price. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking, a basket! What a big poof. But the reality is a bicycle without a basket is like a bum without a hole; sure it looks great, but it’s not very practical!

I mean seriously, you can’t expect me to hang my fruit and vegies on the handlebars for the 5 minute ride home!

Chinese Medical

After settling into my new job (code for working my butt off within 15 minutes of getting off the plane) my employer duly informs me that in order to obtain my foreign expert certificate and so remain in Beijing longer than 30 days, I need to undergo a full Chinese medical. They take pains to ensure me that the process is very basic and should only take a few minutes, so if I could make arrangements with the visa officer-cum-translator-cum-guide that would be great.

Obviously, I don’t have any problem with this new request, after all, anything that means I can stay in Beijing longer that 30 days is a good thing, right?

What my employer failed to mention was that quite possibly the hardest part of the medical would be finding the hospital! The visa officer was gracious enough to agree to meet me at a nearby subway station to escort me to the hospital, however, she failed to mention that the particular subway station in question may have more than one ‘exit B’! After spending nearly 20 minutes playing the ‘how can you be at exit B, if I’m at exit B and you’re not here’ game, we eventually met up and made our way to the aforementioned medical facility.

At the hospital things seemed pretty easy, I filled out all the forms, and started making my way around the various rooms. You see in China, going for a medical is like the gym. You stand around waiting for the particular doctor to be free to do the individual examinations. Heaven forbid a Doctor should branch out a take both your height and check your vision at the same time! Chaos would reign.

I was making good progress moving from room to room. Weight was ok, height was ok. My vision raised some questions (not because I’m blind but because the sight board is in some sort of bizarre characters! How do you say in Chinese; ‘I can see it I just don't know what it’s called’?) The chest x-ray was ok; they made me wear a pair of very trendy lead underpants, only. Apparently cancer in the balls is bad, but cancer of the head is no problem! The blood test was my usual; disappearing veins. The Chinese nurses must get trained in the Sydney blood bank, 'if you miss the vein, don’t panic just move the needle around in the patients arm until the blood appears.’ Ouch!

Then I come to the final, dreaded, internal examination. Now, at the time I had no idea what that meant, but the only thought going through my mind was; looks like I’m taking one for the team here (if you're picking up what I’m putting down).So I enter the room and all is well, the Doctor says;

“Ni hao”
“Ni hao” I respond hesitantly, wondering what the Chinese for, ‘take off your pants and bend over is’, and hoping he doesn't say it.

He motions for me to lift up my shirt. He looks at my stomach, nods all official like, and prods me several times hard in the stomach. I'm thinking, is that the internal examination, or is he just stretching his fingers, so as not to injure his tendons when I bend over. Then the dreaded signal, turn around, he motions something about my belt, oh no, this is it, the moment of truth... Then he says in shockingly bad English for a Doctor;

'America?'
“No, no” I say, “Australia.” But he doesn’t seem to comprehend.
“bu, bu” I exclaim, “Aodaliya, Aodaliya” panic has well and truly set in at this point.

I don't mind baring my arse to this guy, he is a doctor after all, I don't even mind if he wants to stick his fingers up my arse, HE IS A DOCTOR, right? but if he has to do it, I don't want him thinking I’m American, and so doing it angry. Nooooo, I want him to be happy and relaxed. RELAXED! I’m almost screaming now, “Aodaliya, Aodaliya”, and desperately searching for my translator, (you see the Chinese idea of privacy is having a medical exam in a small room with the door wide open and 20 foreigners and Chinese staring at you). Finally, the doctor (well the dude in the white coat, clearly implying he is a doctor, but by now I’m not convinced) says with a big smile;

“Ahhhh, Aodaliya... no problem, finish finish”

For the first time during the 5 minute exchange I relax my sphincter, stand up and almost run out. I found out later he was looking for surgery scars and had no intention of inserting a digit in my date. Thank god! It seems that according to Chinese doctors all Americans are fat, unhealthy beasts that are always moments from death, and so more than likely will be covered in surgery scars; a somewhat harsh judgment in my opinion.

Anyway, the moral of the story, and there is always a lesson to be learned, is;

1) Always make your nationality known. If you happened to be an American (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), say you're Canadian; and,

2) Just relax and take a deep breath, it will only take a moment.