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CONTENTS
JOURNAL
INDEX
The best piece of news came to me today. My sister wrote to say that she went for a chest scan and the results were good. Apparently this means that the cancer's unlikely to be in her leg or anywhere else. At the beginning of the year the doctors said she had only a 50% chance of pulling through (an occasion when seeing the glass as half-full rather than half-empty is in no way reassuring) but now her chances are meant to be higher. She tells me that she's thrilled. I, myself, am relieved.
At first I felt a little sorry for Georgia. Surely this country has the same right as any other to arrest suspected spies. Since Georgia's own 'Rose' revolution in November 2003, Russia has been getting evermore frustrated as its former Soviet partner increasingly looks towards the European Union and even enters into talks with NATO. It looked like another example of naughty Russia flexing its muscles and bullying its poor neighbours.
However, I’m not so sure about that any more. Georgians need Russia more than Russia needs them, as many Georgians come here to work so that they can send money back home. (Naturally, this was one of the benefits that the Russian government froze as soon as the crisis escalated.) I also know several Russians who resent the way Georgians run their markets in Moscow. I’m told that Georgians look down on giving change in their culture, and then they come to Russia and try to play the same game. A Russian friend said that a Georgian man once looked at her like begging scum when she demanded her change. So, the two countries are not the best of friends at the moment, and it has been harrowing to watch how swiftly and mercilessly Russia dealt with these differences.
Quite simply, I'm certain that I'll never move up in this company. I'm being passed over for promotion because I have had a few little gripes with the company, and standing up for myself got me labelled as a troublemaker with an attitude. It all leaves me feeling rather indignant, and so I feel the need to vent.
A simplified version could go as follows: When some stranger kicked down the door to my flat within my first month of being in Russia (two years ago), the fix-it man tried somehow to implicate me in the whole mess. I took a chunk of the door in to work in order to demonstrate his error and to ask that they remove these suspicions from my record. I cannot think of doing anything more natural and justified, but it came up again more than a year later when I asked about a promotion.
Also, little things like chocolate bars kept regularly disappearing from our desks at work. Everyone suspected that it was the cleaning woman. When eventually I insisted that it should stop, my complaint only earned me another blotch on my record.
A few months after that I returned home one evening to find that the door code to my building had changed. I waited outside for twenty minutes until another tenant happened to let me in. The next day at work I asked for the fix-it man to find out the code for me. He didn't. Instead, he informed my boss that he had, the boss informed me that everything was all right, and I returned to my building and this time waited outside for about 25 minutes in minus 20 degrees. Somehow, this was also my fault; and the memory of it has also come back to bite me.
Finally, I paid good money to spend a weekend learning Russian at one of our school's subsidiaries. We didn't learn Russian, we watched videos in English about Russia, and our teacher was constantly late. On the first day, she started the lesson fifteen minutes late and then missed ten minutes after lunch. She was fifteen minutes late again on the second day, and this time she missed five minutes after lunch. Losing a total of 45 minutes, or one full 'academic' hour, I refused to pay for that hour. On the grounds that I would have been severely reprimanded for the same, I also wrote a letter of complaint. The boss from that school phoned up the boss from my school just to talk about my 'cheek'.
Probably, I can also add this little spiel on my website to the list of things that I have done to insure that I will never be promoted within my school, but I'm passed worrying about it. We all have to air out our grievances occasionally. I know I would have made a good ADOS for them. I have junior teachers coming to me for help all the time. I find it upsetting that when I have had legitimate concerns, not only has nothing been done about them, but the mere fact that I raised them has been held against me.
Oh well, all we can ever do is take the good with the bad, and there have been plenty of good things happening in my life since I returned to Moscow.
My school has a lot of teachers qualified to teach adults and not children, but with so many children's classes running, they're expected to learn as they go and eventually become fairly proficient children's teachers too. Because I'm actually qualified to teach children up from the age of about six, it makes more sense to throw me in the deep-end with the three-and-four-year-olds, where I can at least keep my head above water, rather than throw the former category of teachers into water that will certainly swallow them. And so I tried teaching four-year-olds a course called 'Playway', and it was a nightmare. Luckily for me, contract teachers are not obligated to teach this age group - as they are with the older kids - and so last Thursday was my last day with them. No more will I have to endure being spat in the face or completely and utterly ignored.
Ania and I spend our time together talking; cooking exotic dinners for each other; playing games of backgammon; reading quietly in one another’s company; watching the odd DVD together; watching episodes of my favourite comedy, 'Red Dwarf'; and watching episodes of the 1880s made-for-TV movie, 'Shogun' (as I was so impressed with the book that I'm right in to the TV series). She is also happy to come out with me on Friday nights when I want to be with my friends, and so that gives us further options for what we can do together. I believe we're having a very nice time.
Next weekend will see me back in Zelenograd to celebrate my friend Tal's birthday. This will be the third birthday of his that we've partied together. The first time two years ago we all went to Tver. This time, it's going to be a party at his house. I'm very happy about this, as it reflects the fact that I have now known many of my friends here for more than two years. On Friday night (two nights ago) Ania and I went out with my old good friends, Pasha and Lena. Also, it is a little fun that my first major update on Russia since I've been back - the first entry for these new Russian journal pages - corresponds exactly with the first entry that I made on Russia precisely two years ago to the very day. There's a nice piece of symmetry.
One person who has been very helpful since I got back is one of my old ADOSs (whom I shall not name as I believe he prefers generally to keep a low profile on the Internet). Nevertheless, I am very grateful to him for all the help he so readily offers; and should he choose, he knows he's got at least a few good home-cooked meals coming to him.
That's about it for this time. I know I said I'd try to write my updates more regularly, but my problem really has been a complete lack of Internet accessibility in my building in Rechnoy Vokzal (Block 43, Festivalnaya Ulitsa). Ania and I have both tried three different phone cards. We completely failed even to get dial-up Internet, and no companies are as yet willing to install LAN lines for broadband access. I live in an old Soviet five-story building, and, from what I hear, these are all on the short list to be pulled down and replaced in the coming years. (May I say, in connection with this, that I am also very grateful to my old friend Lena, and to Karil, who have both been trying to solve these same problems for me as well.) Well, I hope to make my next update very soon, but I can't promise anything.
My eighteen weeks' trial period very recently came to an end. That's right, every time a teacher begins a contract with my school, they undergo a six week trial during which either party can terminate the contract with no notice for any reason. This is reasonable, in my opinion, because occasionally the school finds itself hiring some complete and utter morons, and the only thing to do is to repatriate them as quickly as possible. (This is done at the school's expense incidentally, and so no one is left high and dry.) However, for some reason the trial period applies at the start of every contract, no matter how many contracts you've done. Having just now come out of my third trial, the total time that I have spent on a trial basis is a whopping eighteen weeks (as I wrote above) or something in the vicinity of 4.5 months!
That was a week ago last Monday. On the next day, I went into the school at Borovitskaya to discuss things with the recruitment manager, whom I find to be a kind person, and, with tomorrow now being my last day, we promptly signed a freelance contract beginning on Monday 13. I will only have a few classes on this basis - they are not obliged to offer them to me, nor am I obliged to accept them - but I am also teaching at a university now and, in a nutshell, I should earn considerably more money for considerably less hours. It is time for me to think about money, as I'm on the dawn of my thirtieth birthday, and the occasion for living frugally for the sake of cultural experiences is becoming a thing of my past. If all goes well, I hope to soon be on an income comparable to what I was getting in South Korea.
I can say that I was happy with my school over all. For more than eighteen months they took care of my visas, my flight and travel costs, my accommodation costs, and left me with enough pocket money to save a little bit. However, the costs of living in Moscow have been steadily rising, and after the first six weeks back in Russia I had saved nothing more than a measly 3000 roubles (approximately NZ$150, or US$100). When I was stung US$26 for forgetting to go to my 'standby' one Monday - I never had standby in Zelenograd and, anyway, it was my first mistake of this sort - I asked myself whether all the benefits were really enough to offset my relatively low pay. I wouldn't be writing this update if I had concluded that they were.
The 'contractual package' that many Moscow schools offer is great for fairly new and inexperienced teachers who are also new to the capital, but it is definitely the thing for many teachers who have lived here for more than a year or two to go it alone. New teachers are provided with stability, security, and on-going training and career development. Some can also very quickly climb up the ranks of management, with no more post-qualification experience than a few years of part-time teaching being necessary to become a 'senior' teacher - with responsibilities concerning other teachers.
Therefore, for new teachers, teachers new to Moscow, and teachers whose personalities are suited to positions of responsibility, working on a contract at one of the main schools can be quite acceptable for some while. It was precisely this for my first contract, and for a bit of the other contracts that I did as well. On the other hand, once you know Moscow a little, a vibrant city of opportunities presents itself. I have contacts who have been very helpful to me and I believe that I will be able to acquire my own visa and take more responsibility for myself from this point on. The benefits are as I've said: my earning potential increases significantly and I will have a lot more control over the work I do.
Just to begin with, this doesn't really matter to me. My former colleagues promptly informed the new teacher, after he related what he had been told, that I am (in the words of one of my dear friends) "a valued and important member of our group". Oh, bless her. Also, just because one school has the opinion that I'm not right for a senior position doesn't mean that all schools have thought or shall think this. My boss at 'Modern-Age' in Auckland asked me to be 'Head Teacher/Teacher Trainer' of the TOEIC course at a branch they were about to open in Beijing. It was a great pity for me that soon after that my school went into liquidation (having attempted to expand too quickly in a market that was about to slump after September 11 and SARS). However, these unfortunate circumstances consequently lead me to teach in four more fascinating countries, and so I wouldn't want to change anything now. Nevertheless, even back then, a good school demonstrated belief in me - and my boss was a doctor of English Literature with many years' experience in the ESL industry. Eventually another school will feel the same.
I wasn't going to comment on this small matter, incidentally, but for the fact that it relates to something I have observed now in every non-Anglophone country that I've taught in, and this is that I often detect resentment from a small minority of the English teachers who are native to that country. (I mean the ones who were born in a non-Anglophone country, who speak English as a second language, but who work as English teachers.)
Normally, the teachers I work with are very professional and perfectly friendly. I met a scary Scottish girl about four weeks ago who tried to convince me and my friends that Russian English teachers can never be as good at teaching English as native English speakers. As it happened, she only lasted about a week at the school, and was rushed home after too many of her students raised strong objections about her classes. This fact in itself seems already to work against her point, although at the time I argued that there are a great many native English speakers who, for whatever reason (English Literature majors, maybe), are more articulate and proficient at English than I am, but it doesn't necessarily follow that they'll be better at teaching English than me. Someone with a Master's in Applied Linguistics, for example, is surely 'better' at English than I am; but Applied Linguistics majors have a reputation within the industry for taking a long time to become comfortable with the 'Communicative Approach'. Being good at teaching English doesn't necessarily follow from being exceptionally good at using English, and in the same way many English teachers who learned English as a second language - although they may still be more prone to making mistakes than I am - make excellent English teachers for other reasons. What they sometimes lack in accuracy is often more than made up for by what they know from having been students of English themselves, but then they can bring plenty of other positive attributes as well, just like anyone else. In short, I have met terrible Anglophone English teachers, and I have met excellent non-Anglophone English teachers. What I am about to write, therefore, is not aimed at non-native English teachers in general.
I have also known a few non-Anglophone English teachers who carry the same prejudices (in reverse) as the Scottish girl. Some seem to feel nothing but contempt towards us Anglophones. I know a Russian teacher who essentially admits hating foreigners and foreign English teachers. As another example of her attitude problem, she spent about a month teaching in an Anglophone country and came back absolutely detesting the place.
In China I knew a teacher - calling himself 'Prince' - who found it difficult to understand me and immediately concluded that, rather than needing to brush up on his own listening skills, I needed to change my speech to be more 'American'. Only because of this, he was convinced that he was the better English teacher.
Five months into my contract, several Chinese English teachers who had at first sympathised with Prince came up to me and 'admitted' that my English was actually better than theirs. This was from two teachers with English degrees whom, if I had met them during a 'placement' test, I would have graded as being no higher than at an intermediate level (ie, no better than around half my Russian students). As for Prince, whose own idea of teaching English was speaking extremely rapidly and then translating everything he said into Chinese, he was not so confident when I informed him that the name he had chosen for himself was very often modern slang for 'homosexual'.
Anyway, I've encountered this kind of thing again and again in my travels. In Poland, I felt completely ostracised by the Polish English teachers at one of my schools. They treated me as if I were merely a subordinate teacher, there to give 'speaking' lessons, and to be detested for not having the same teaching background as them. Meanwhile, their own classes were full of the Polish language and, from what I observed, utterly boring. This was my worst experience overall, although I loved living in Poland despite this.
In Germany, one German teacher asked if I knew off the top of my head the difference in usage between gerunds and infinitive verbs. I explained the over-all rule that there are verbs after which we may use either a gerund or an infinitive ('I love swimming', 'I love to swim'), there are other verbs after which we only use a gerund ('I detest smoking'), and others still after which we may only use an infinitive ('I decided to take singing lessons'). I also explained that generally there was no absolute rule governing the correct usage for each, and that students normally had to resign themselves to the arduous task of memorising examples from charts and tables. After this, he asked whether I could give more of an explanation. I told him that sometimes gerunds carry a 'present' significance, whereas infinitives may have a 'future' significance, and I thought this a fair demonstration of my grammatical knowledge.
By now I imagine that I'm only mildly impressing a minority of readers, whereas I'm thoroughly boring a majority, but I'm coming to a point. The thing was that after all this, he kept asking for examples, and naturally my ideas soon ran out. I was confounded when, rather than being satisfied with my explanation, he told me that I still clearly had a lot of work to do with regards to teaching grammar. I worked as a freelance teacher with this man for several months and found his arrogance to be bordering on insolence.
I could go on with further examples of the animosity that I sometimes pick up on in non-Anglophone English teachers, but I feel that I've offered enough. I think it and comes down to simple jealousy. At the end of the day, most Princes of the ESL world are simply never going to milk from the industry even half the experiences that are (however unfairly) readily available to Anglophone English teachers. Prince may do all right in China, but he's not about to be flooded with teaching offers from other countries. (Incidentally, a school in Italy recently headhunted me, asking whether I'd like to work for them!) Perhaps, if he tries hard enough, he will find work in the UK or in NZ or somewhere, but it is much harder for him to find work in a whole bunch of countries than it is for native English speakers. He might be able to work for one of the big schools, like English First, but that would leave him earning the kind of salary that I'm trying to get away from. Most well-paying independent schools are really only ready to pay the big dollars to the expats.
Naturally, there's a certain amount of injustice here, but nevertheless that's part of the reality of capitalism. Students are generally more willing to pay higher fees when they have teachers from English-speaking countries. It may seem callous of me to go on like this, but I'm still coming to a point. As I've said, most of my Russian colleagues are very nice to me, and they are very good at what they do. As for the likes of relatively inexperienced teachers who might look at my site and laugh about the idea of me ever holding a senior position, it wouldn't hurt them to bear in mind that they have nothing on those of us who have teaching experience from all over the world. Be more humble.
Local teachers observe us expats as we come and go, and we must truly seem to them like temporary butterflies. We come to their country in a flurry of bright colours and high living, but most of us don't rise within the ranks so much, and then we go. Many butterflies are indeed destined to perish - in the sense that they will give up teaching and go on to other careers. Alternatively, they fly away to other lands, and from the perspective of the local teacher who observes their departure, they might as well cease to exist.
But not all the Anglo-butterflies fly away or drop dead after a brief existence. Teachers like Prince know nothing of what that butterfly may have done before he or she flew in to town. A butterfly who has taught in Moscow for a year will probably know as much about the local industry as a local teacher with equivalent experience. However, if this butterfly has also worked in Beijing for a year, he or she has probably gained more insights into teaching than a local teacher who has taught only in Moscow for same amount of time in total. To offer only one example, I have insight into the differences in learning assumptions and characteristics between students from more than three European and five Asian countries; and from having to adapt to the different needs of these students from very different cultures, I have learned a lot about teaching.
Anglophone English teachers are not just temporary, we only seem so. In fact, teachers like Prince very often grow stagnant - certain that the international teacher is inferior to them and confident that they know all there is to know in their own little niche or microcosm. In reality, the international teacher is part of a much larger niche, or macrocosm, and although they less about the local industry than local teachers when they first arrive, in reality they are benefiting from a world of experiences and from all the insights that can be gained from teaching around the globe.
If international teachers sometimes look temporary and inconsequential to local teachers, local teachers sometimes look to us like big fish in small ponds. In reality, these ponds feed into a vast ocean in which most fish are small. The fish who take refuge in one pond often fail to appreciate the scale of this ocean, and so they learn little from it, whereas the little fish that go from place to place are steadily building up their knowledge so that one day they may prosper at the top of the food chain.
In the small pond, some teachers with only a few years' experience may rise within the ranks, but to be in a position of responsibility isn't all it's cracked up to be. I can think of three reasons for wanting to be an ADOS. First, it is a good way to avoid other (possibly less experienced) ADOSes observing your lessons and attempting to give feedback. Secondly, it can be nice as an experienced teacher to help newly-qualified teachers. They come to us all the time anyway, so why not get a little extra pay and recognition for our troubles? Finally, the promise of an increase in salary is surely part of the attraction. So what's the point in being promoted if teaching on a freelance basis also gets people off your back and generally pays a lot better? From what I've seen, it is the international teachers who, because of their experience in the bigger ocean, soon break away from that little scene and do quite well for themselves. I feel pity when I meet the Princes of the ESL world. When they act with inflated egos, they become laughable.
With two former students from Zelenograd, Alexey and Alina,
It's time for another brief update, mainly because one satisfying week at my university has passed by, and partly because regular updates improve my site's search-engine ranking. I'm also feeling a lot better after letting off all that steam during my two previous updates (see above), so it's time to move on.
I am now officially employed as a university lecturer. Not meaning to get ahead of myself, but I've already developed this great new style of lecturing. What I do, you see, is create ways to get students talking together and discovering the language for themselves. In this way, I am rather like a facilitator, or (dear I say it) an English teacher. My students like this approach, and it works for me - rather as it has done for the last five years. However, just on the odd occasion, I rather enjoy throwing the idea out there that I'm a lecturer at a university.
My first week was very pleasant. I only had to teach ... er, I mean lecture for 14 academic hours (of 40 minutes each; or less than ten real hours in total) to earn more than I used to earn for double that at my former school. As such, I had a lot of free time on my hands, which was entirely diverted to moving flat and other similar things. I also continue to do two lessons per week with BKC, and given that my hourly pay with them is quite good, this works out to be a nice little bonus.
My sweet, young girlfriend had her birthday on Tuesday. We enjoyed a very nice dinner with one of her friends, and her closest family and relatives. I bought her an MP3 player, so she seems fairly stoked.
I also dedicated a lot of my week to picking up more than sixteen new phrases in Russian. They're mostly to do with functional Russian that I can use in every-day situations. This represents the biggest jump that I've ever made with the language, and I'm all set to learn sixteen more this week. It is my goal to reach a solid elementary level before too many more years go by.
That's fairly much it for now. There's only about fourteen days left before I hit the big THREE-OH. It's a cruel cliche to think how rapidly life passes us by. At least I'm doing all right for myself at this present junction. I really hope this university post works out for the long term, as I like my flat, my income finally promises to match what I was earning in Korea, I'm in a great area (Krasnie Vorota, in central Moscow, and full of grand old buildings with a heavy German architectural influence), and some stability will really help me as I get on track for the DELTA next year.
Today's update is really just to mark a milestone that I've reached in my life. I am right now 10,957 days old, and this is my last day of the decade that was my twenties. Tomorrow I will be thirty years old and commencing the score of years that will see me at the prime of my life.
I wanted to take a little time out this evening to say a few things about my twenties. I might add more later, but then that will be a reflection from the standpoint of a man in his thirties, and it is nice to at least make a few acknowledgements about a decade that I will continue to be a part of for the next five hours. I don't have long to write this update, as I'm throwing a party in Zelenograd this evening, where I hope to see many of my friends.
I think I can say that I'm going to much prefer turning thirty to turning twenty. I still remember my twentieth birthday very well - it's amazing to think how fast it all went by - and at that time I was not particularly comfortable about leaving my teens behind. I felt burdened, as if I had to be an adult from then on, but then several years later, when I was in Cairns, Australia, I didn't feel myself to be anywhere close to that ideal. It wasn't until I was around twenty-four that I really felt an adult-kind of maturity setting in, and then as a twenty-five year-old in China, I could finally feel fairly certain that I had mostly made the transition. I once read somewhere that some psychologists place the average age of reaching adulthood at around 29 (I could be completely wrong), but definitely I can say that I'm there now. And it certainly feels a lot better now that this journey is behind me.
I'm pretty happy with the way my twenties have gone [see, I get to use the present perfect tense by making this update just ahead of my birthday] and overall I think I have done all right. The first four years didn't see me get very far, but hitch-hiking and travelling around Australia brought me a legion of experiences that hardened me to the ways of the world and helped to shape my character. It wasn't the most productive time. I never continued with my career in aviation, and I went through a lot of crappy jobs over which I'd sooner commit seppuku than ever go back to again. However, I was young, and perhaps young people can be excused for wasting the odd year or two.
When slightly over a year ago I came a camel's fart away from being worm food, I was able to lie in my hospital bed and think to myself that, should this be my time, I was happy with the way things had gone. On the dawn of this glorious decade to come, I pretty much feel the same. Thank God (if there is one) that I found my way into English teaching, as it has allowed me to live a life that many people can only dream about, and I have grown a hell of a lot in the process. No one will ever be able to take away the fact that I have lived in seven countries and fifteen cities, and I'm pleased to be working in a career that I honestly and truly enjoy. A lot of people don't have that.
In a few minutes it shall be time for me to get ready for the night ahead (my wonderful girlfriend is already standing over me right now, plucking at numerous grey hairs), but let me just say, while I still have a chance, that I'm fully looking forward to this coming decade. I felt a little apprehensive about it at first, but now that I'm finally an adult (pats on the back, please), I think I'm ready to take on a lot of life's challenges with a new sense of zeal. I feel quite settled into Moscow once again - I couldn't see myself living in a better city! - and there is a world of opportunities at my feet that now, more than ever before, I feel ready to tap in to.
If I can't do any of that, I can always have a beer.
05 January 2007 Some of the Good
The first positive point on my list is the two queues' system. Some of my Russian friends are surprised when I explain it, as either they haven't been conscious of it, or the system doesn't operate in their area. I first observed this while waiting in long lines for buses to and from Zelenograd (where I used to live and where I still spend some time). Basically, anyone who wants a seat stands in the main line, but they may watch a bus or two load up before they're able to get one. Normally, I make it on the first bus that comes, but sometimes I'm ready to wait for a second bus if it's not too far away and when I don't feel like standing for up to an hour.
Some late-comers don't always have time to wait for a second or third bus, and so they form a second line. They wait for people from the main line to stop boarding before assuming positions standing in the aisle and occupying any neglected seats (perhaps a seat here-and-there, whereas friends in the first queue were wanting to sit together). The people in the longer queue wait for a seat on the next bus, but those who really need this bus get to jump the queue.
Sometimes, as in my example, the two lines will be immediately obvious. At other times, and without being obvious at all to the uninitiated, the line starts as one line, but as the bus fills up and the line starts slowing down, some people begin skipping to the front. There are times when this becomes a little chaotic, but generally the people who are left jostling for a place to stand have already accepted that they won't be sitting. They assume that those who are not jostling are simply awaiting a seat on the next ride. Naturally, all this could appear to some foreigners as if there's no actual order to the whole process, but in fact I think it's a fairly decent system.
Not too far removed from all this is the 'gypsy taxi' system - an unofficial part of the transport network in Russia. Pedestrians can very easily flag down a civilian car with a wave of the hand and negotiate a fair price. Typically, less than ten cars go by before someone stops. It's not referred to as 'hitching', therefore, as money exchanges hands, but supply-and-demand keeps the rates fairly reasonable and, after using it many times, I have never had the slightest problem. I have always found the drivers to be honest - one guy even went out of his way one weekend to return my wallet, cash untouched - but make sure you have an idea of the rate in an area. If you don't, offer half what they ask for and let a few drivers move on before offering more.
My impression of Russians as colleagues has improved markedly since I returned to Moscow. The people in Ximki were exceptionally nice to me, but at the time I thought perhaps I had just gotten lucky with them. However, the staff at the institute are also very friendly and helpful, as are the BKC staff at Rechnoy Vokzal and the other staff at a third school that I'm doing a bit of work for.
Recently I discussed my feeling that a few non-Anglophone English teachers can sometimes harbour a kind of resentment against native English teachers that occasionally manifests as overt rudeness. After that, I was anticipating wounded feelings from my Russian friends (regrettable, since they are good teachers and I was only referring to a small minority), but it never came. Instead, I met a whole bunch of Russian teachers who really do have a lot over me (such as master's degrees in education), who have no reason to feel insecure about my relatively humble experience, but who nevertheless afford me a great amount of respect. My last few months have gone by wonderfully, putting my Russian colleagues nearly on a par with my Russian students (whom, compared with students that I have taught from all over the world, I have for a long time acknowledged as being my favourite students overall).
After talking about colleagues and students, I come to the Russian language itself. I am proud to say that I have finally started putting a fair amount of effort into learning this very beautiful language. I like listening to Russian people when they speak, and my girlfriend always enchants me with her gentle voice whenever she whispers soft poems or sings sweet songs to me.
As a sample of my approximate abilities: I can now read and write in both script and print (two rather different forms) with very few difficulties. This is not to say that I understand it, however. I have completely memorised around fifty or sixty expressions (for example: 'It's good to see you again', Better late than never', 'How was your weekend?', 'Do you like your work?', and others), and I have memorised several hundred words (although perhaps a quarter of these are very similar in English). I'm starting to pick up on some of the rhythms of the language, I think, and so memorising vocab and pronouncing it accurately is getting easier and easier. A few Sundays back I spent about 90 minutes memorising 30 new words. I then spent an hour revising them over the next day. I remembered them all on the day after that, so I was very happy. I can count, I can do money transactions, I know dates, and in perhaps another month or two I hope to be proficient with enough basic language points so as to break past my rank as a beginner and into the ranks of an elementary student. I learn from my friends, from several books, and from one or two reasonable websites when I have time.
Around six weeks ago I memorised a famous Soviet-era poem by Mayakovsky. In English, it goes something like:
So it is that learning Russian in general is quite an unfair trade-off to teaching English (and all this is to say nothing about declining nouns and conjugating verbs). Whenever Russian staff translate my student report cards into Russian, the result is always one-and-a-half times or twice as long. For all the effort that a Russian student of mine may put into learning a new English word, I will very likely have to work two or three times as hard. A nice simple word in English like 'help' - which should for practical purposes be nice and short - must therefore be four syllables long in Russian. Picture a barracuda clamping on to my tongue when I'm washing my face at a riverbank some day, and me trying to splutter out a word like 'pamagetia'! At least in English I'd be able to scream out the word 'help', even if it sounded more like 'helph'. If learning Russian were nice like learning English, it would be three or four times more efficient, and I could have memorised maybe around 200 expressions and 700 words by now.
Russian acquaintances try to console me by saying, "Well, at least it's not as hard as learning Chinese". I remind them that I lived in China for 13 months, and that (ignoring the writing system) I personally found Chinese to be considerably easier. Chinese is fairly much a monosyllabic language after all.
Nevertheless, coping with difficulties is all part of the fun. I still think that Russian is a rich and beautiful language, and I am inspired to learn it more and more now that I think I'll be staying around for a while to use it.
I have been exploring various cafes, bistros, and restaurants around Moscow recently, and I'm very pleased with what I've discovered. I think the range of food is much improved on what it was several years ago (although perhaps I wasn't looking hard enough back then), and some of the meals are of world-class quality and at very reasonable prices. The BBC recently reported that Moscow is now the most expensive city in the world to live in. Naturally, this takes two things into consideration: Average earnings per capita versus cost of living, and cost of housing and accommodation. Housing costs in particular have skyrocketed in recent years, and the fact that my institute puts me in a decent flat helps me considerably, but when it comes to eating out and so on, I find the prices to be very fair. Additionally, I think Russia produces some delicious cakes - a real delight for anyone with a strong sweet tooth. I miss not having access to various Asian ingredients, but I bought a whole lot of Thai curry paste with me, and I hope that my ex-girlfriend from China, Ting, will send me some more ingredients fairly soon, and so I look forward to having a deliciously various diet.
I know I've written a lot about Moscow and the Metro already, but I think they both deserve some extra coverage. Quite simply, I love exploring Moscow and living close to the centre. I'm surrounded by impressive European-style architecture. Some people may not know that this means many big buildings, but it doesn't mean many skyscrapers. Moscow doesn't have very many buildings falling into that category. As for the Metro, it's fast, cheap, efficient, clean, and some of its stations are as grand as palace or museum interiors.
I think highly of Russian acting. I haven't seen a great many movies because they can seldom be found with English subtitles, but the ones that I have seen impressed me.
It occurred to me recently that Russian children are overall very well behaved. I've never seen them behaving like the youth in American high-school-genre movies. As I said at the time, I was particularly impressed with how different age groups were able to mix together and 'allow' themselves to have fun at the children's camp I was on just prior to my hospital experience. This ability also translates as an ability to work together well in the classroom, which is partly why I like having Russian students.
With this last observation I must now move on from Moscow's good points and say a few words about a recent insight. From what I've seen of the culture of youth in Russia (and other countries like China and Korea), I have come to realise just how much the youth culture to which I belonged in my late teens was not an expression of independence as I thought it was at the time, but rather little more than a part of the culture to which I still belong. Simply, Russian youth are far removed from the youth I knew in my eighteenth year. Go through my 'Life' photo album, and you'll find a photo of me with long hair and odd flares just after my eighteenth birthday... and this was on a conservative day. I became still wilder for a full year, and it wouldn't have stopped for many more years, except for the fact that pursuing a career in aviation very quickly pulled me back in line.
The adolescents that I meet in Russia behave very differently to how my friends and I once did. Naturally, they still exhibit certain teenage-like characteristics, such as an inability to consider others' feelings that is associated with the 'superior temporal sulcus' part of the brain. However, most of them don't go out of their way to be different and troublesome, as youth have been doing in NZ for three or more generations. I don't intend to write a dissertation defending these observations, but I wanted to acknowledge my sense of epiphany when I realised that my rebelliousness as an adolescent didn't belong to something universal about teenagers, but was really just another manifestation of my culture.
In countries like Russia and China, children are pressured from a very young age to succeed academically in order to avoid the miserable lives that are ubiquitous at the lower levels of their society. Children in New Zealand are encouraged to succeed academically in order to avoid miserable lives that for the most part are not evident anywhere. (In NZ, unemployed, single, twenty-somethings very often feel that they are falling below the minimum poverty line as soon as they cannot afford the latest game for their Sony PlayStation from their social welfare benefit.) This might be one fundamental factor resulting in the cultural difference that I observe in Eastern countries and in some non-Anglophone Western countries such as Russia.
Another difference may be that many Anglophone pre-teens are taught about how rebellious older generations were in 'their' day. This was certainly true for me, as I heard about all my father's exploits from when he was young. I remember when I was twelve that I couldn't wait to be a teenager and to start behaving like the youth on the 1984 movie, 'Footloose', with Kevin Bacon. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking notes from bands like Nirvana, and from the horde of similarly minded teenagers around me. My conclusion is that English-speaking youth belong to a culture where teenagers are in some way expected to go wild for a while, and then to eventually come back into the fold. It's lucky for me that they're not so much like that here, as I wouldn't want to take on too many teenagers resembling the ones I knew in my own days. I pitied some of my teachers back then.
Now those days are well behind me. Recently I hit 30 and my mind is still running through implications that I would like to write about here. Overall, I feel fairly positive about this age. I have collected a far more impressive array of battle wounds than I would have expected, starting with a scar on my head that I got from a car crash in Auckland (image below), moving on to two fake front teeth that I first lost when the front wheel came off my mountain bike, and finishing with the scars and a hernia that my time in a Russian hospital earned me quite a few months ago. Losing that front wheel also left me with two scars on the knuckles of my left hand that have since faded almost to nothing. Also, the absence of my lower-wisdom teeth may not count as impressive wounds, but I had the things taken out in China, which made for quite an ordeal at the time.
After fulfilling my youthful ambition of gaining full professional qualifications as a pilot, I found I had no ambition to continue being one. In any case, a number of years went by before I was even able to afford to put myself back into the sky. Aviation is a highly specialised industry and there is a lot to know of a technical nature, but it does little to develop an individual outside of the industry, and it allows little time for the pursuit of other interests.
Contrary to what many people think, aviation doesn't normally allow pilots to live and experience countries as thoroughly as I have. I have known for a long time that I want to write historical fictions, and towards this end I felt that I needed to live within different cultures for a considerable amount of time. I also felt drawn to a career that at least had a little to do with this ambition (I think an applied knowledge of grammar helps a little) and which allowed me personal time to read history and practise writing.
Of course I loved a lot about flying, and if I had persevered, I'm sure I would be flying some reasonably large planes as are many of my friends today; but then I don't think I would be as far along with my writing. I'm happy to have hit thirty and not to be a bum in the street, or a junkie, or working in a supermarket, as had seemed to me just as likely as anything else back when I was wearing long hair and ridiculous flares. At least I have a career that I feel earns me a little respect, which affords me a comfortable lifestyle, and that promises development and promotion until I can generally depend on having stable work throughout my fleeting existence.
But these are just my everyday aims. If I stay where I am today, without regressing, I will be content when my life is through not to have sunk to the bottom of the human experience; but I have my greater dreams as well, and that is where I must end up if destiny is one day to justify the fact that I left one of the world's most sought-after professions. I hope the next decade will see me closer to my highest goal of being able to support myself as a writer.
One more good point about Russia, I think, is snow. However, this winter couldn't be any more different to the last one. A year ago it set records for being so cold (down to minus 37°C where I was), and this year is setting records for being so warm. We had a cold spat and a snow session several months ago, and then it completely warmed up to somewhere around 4 degrees on average (these are not official figures). It felt more like a prolonged autumn than anything else, and the snow only just made it in time for New Year. Already, the snow has melted once more and I'm able to get around outside in little more than normal clothes and a jersey.
Around two weekends ago Ania and I went to see the new James Bond movie, Casino Royale, and like almost everyone else, I loved it. I simply must say a few words about it here, as I've been waiting for a James Bond such as this for a long time. I also liked the last one a lot, as I thought the whole thing about escaping from a prison in Hong Kong the way Brosnan did was very interesting. However, all the ones before that and since Connery had been too full of unlikely gadgets and too tangled up in increasingly unbelievable plots for my liking. This one was nice, simple, and cruel. It was back to basics - basic weapons, a basic plot of fighting terrorists and saving a few hundred million dollars (but not of saving the world) - and at the same time Daniel Craig played Bond more as I would expect a true secret agent to be. At one point Vesper Lynd, the main Bond girl, asks: "It doesn't bother you, killing those people?", to which Bond coolly replies: "Well, I wouldn't be very good at my job if it did". Hard stuff. This was how I always thought a bang-on Bond movie should be: sophisticated, charming, as much about dialogue as about standard-setting special effects, and yet at its heart, simple. I was very impressed.
The New Year has recently passed us by, and I was happy with the occasion. I spent the evening with my girlfriend and her extended family, and it was a really nice time. I met babushka and had a few shots of vodka with dedushka (grandfather). I also met up with a few friends, Tal, Masha, and Masha's parents, at around 3am that morning, but it wasn't to be a particularly late one, as I was feeling fatigued. There was a gentle breeze, it wasn't much below zero, and the snow blanketed the ground serenely, so, accompanied part of the way by Masha's parents, we enjoyed a tranquil walk back to Ania's flat.
Last year took me from Russia, to Korea, to Christchurch for the first time in five years, and back to Moscow and to a good job that does me as nicely as did my job in Daejeon. My last decade saw me do a lot of writing, get through a lot of history books and books on popular science, and accomplish the travelling that I had been aiming to do. I'm looking forward to another good year in 2007 and to the next incredible decade that is certainly ahead of me.
Actually, this is not quite NY, but rather just before
Check out the whole page by clicking on its new name:
Click on any link to see the main album for that topic. A new browser window will come up. Exit the browser to return to my site.
There are about twenty new photos for Russia, so if you haven't looked at them in the last couple of days, take another glance. Likewise, there are nearly ten new photos under Life.
Otherwise, I've just today bought the domain name jonnyharman.com, which will begin pointing to dreamconsciousness.com in a day or two. This means that you will be able to view my site from whichever name you enter into the browser. Perhaps the new one's easier to remember, if not easier to spell (people always want to spell my name 'Johnny Harmon' and about a five other variants).
I've also been through my site verifying links, deleting redundant photos, etc, and in a few cases simplifying my language.
On a personal level, I've been having a nice break from work with the New Year holidays. I try to spend as much time as possible with my beautiful girlfriend. I haven't had anyone this wonderful in a long time, and I'm trying by best not to ruin it this time.
or return to one of my previous journals:
South Korea
Russia I-IV
Germany
Poland
Auckland
China |