The Wonder of Travel

Shockingly enough, the Russian Facepalm Interview did not result in my iminent relocation to Russia. You have three seconds to act surprised.....and done. However, a spontaneous email sent to a school in Dharamsala, India that my sister had found about an unpaid volunteer teaching position did result in a welcome to join them in the foothills of the Himalayas. So my sister and I decided to pack our bags and journey to the Far East for two months of exploration, teaching, and photography (my sister is, without a doubt, a better photographer than I am teacher). Thus begins another tale that begins, and ends, because of my complete inability to take preventative measures, imploy even basic skeptiscm, or look up what "Delhi belly" acutally is.

My first clue that I might not have the best idea of what I was getting myself into was the tone of the emails I received from the school itself. Instead of the daunting, experience-demanding list of qualifications laid out by the other schools I had looked into, this place didn't ask....at all....for anything. Maybe that should have been a bit of a red flag, but to a young person looking for a job who doesn't have much experience to name and with more resume gaps than you can shake a stick at, it seemed like a godsend.

The planning of the trip went pretty well. One afternoon of drinking light beers in the backyard with a laptop and our passports scored us visas to stay in India for up to six months, a hostel, and plane tickets to Delhi and from there to Dharamsala. I suppose a reasonable person might have taken another day or two to do some research on the place they were going to spend two months and all of their money, but what are things like access to drinkable water and food poisoning when compared to the wonder of world travel?

After 26 hours of travel, a sleepless layover in Germany, and a taxi driver that kicked us out with two large suitcases, a finger point, and the entirely unhelpful advice to "go that way and ask," the wonder of travel died in the face of the longest staircase I have ever seen and a mountain goat.

 

NYC as I knew it

Occupy Wall Street. . . as far as I could tell

My crappy picture from an amazing concert

What I saw as I left the amazing concert

Bubble tea in China Town

The Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza

Celebratory "I survived CELTA" waffles

Some of the greatest people I've ever met. The teachers-to-be in my CELTA group, the teachers teaching us, and the wonderful students who were so incredibly kind and patient with us all.

I live!

Ok due to a series of inane, stupid, and bizarre events (mostly procrastination and my inability to find the blog that I created) I haven't posted in far too long. Oops! But moving on, I'll give you the Reader's Digest version of my last few months. I completed my CELTA (thank God!), left the sprint-paced life of NYC for the lesiurly stroll of Oklahoma, recovered and then stagnated for a few weeks at my parents' house (Christmas happened), and then was thrust into the glamorous life of a middle school teacher's assistant where I am currently spending my days learning how to succeed at, fail at, and survive being a teacher. The kids are, of course, both the best part and worst part of the job. But despite all of their sweetness, surprises, and rewards, the kids are still in Oklahoma and I can't imagine settling down and working with them full-time right now. Which leads to the most recent corkscrew on my life's rollercoaster--The Russian Facepalm Interview.

The Russian Facepalm Interview, or my first interview for a teaching position via Skype as kinder people might refer to it, occurred several days ago after I sent a few e-mails out responding to job postings on Dave's ESL Cafe. As you may have deduced by now, the school is in Russia and the teachers I've spoken to from it seem really cool. I, on the other hand, couldn't have been spazzier durring the interview. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to video call them or if they would call me, so I sat infront of my computer agonizing about it with my Skype window up as the time for the interview and three extra minutes crept by. And that was pretty much the most composed three minutes of my twenty minute interview. Even though the interview was pretty standard, I hadn't really thought out my responses. So I ended up stammering over my strenghts and weaknesses as a teacher and my reasons for wanting to go to Russia (seriously, saying I had spun the globe and my finger landed on Russia would've been better than what I actually said). And even I was midly impressed by how terribly I described myself; when asked to tell about what I like to do for fun you would've thought they'd asked me an advanced physics problem or to recite a Shakespearean sonnet backwards. By the time it ended I think both of us were relieved that it was over, but "We'll be in touch" is a good sign right?....right?

So what I've learned from the Facepalm Interview is to always prepare for interviews. Anyway, I'm going to try to post some pics from my time in New York that I meant to post months ago. However, since I am the person that lost my blog for awhile, don't be too surprised if no pics follow this post!

Hello Internet!

Ok so I've had this blog up for about a month without posting a single thing; this will more than likely end up being pretty indicative of my posting habits. In case anyone other than my mom or sister reads this, I'll give you a brief introduction. I am a young college grad with an English degree, a vague notion that I would like to travel, and some past experiences confirming that I like to teach. Combine all of that with a complete and utter disregard for the corporate world and you might begin to understand why I am typing this from the common room of a hostel in NYC where I am taking a CELTA course to get certified to teach English as a second language (or a foreign language or to ELLs or whatever you prefer).

I would really like to be able to tell you that I got off the plane in Jersey, confidently found transport to Manhattan, and have been living it up ever since (or for the 4 days I've been here). In actuality, I was very much overwhelmed by the sensation of finding myself in the middle of the biggest city I've ever been in completely alone, knowing that I had an entire month before I could go back home to everything that felt safe and familiar. I ended up going to a little metro dinner on the same block as my hostel to find food, and trying as hard as I could to appear unaffected and confident. If the fact that my eye's felt like they were going to pop out of my head hadn't clued me in to the fact that I was completely failing at this, the waiters' responses to me sure did. After asking where I was from (I so didn't pull off the local act I was going for) and how long I was staying (he assured me that I would get used to it), my waiter and the rest of the staff proceeded to be very, very nice to me and sneak glances at me like they were afraid the poor farm girl was going to have a meltdown in their dinner. If there is one thing that I have learned about New York so far, it's that the rumors of their rudeness have been greatly exaggerated. People have for the most part either ignored my existence (my preference when riding the subway) or been kind and/or courteous.

I don't want you to think that I have been going around the city for the past few days wide-eyed and terrified, depending on the kindness of random strangers. I did spend my first full day riding the subway completely lost and enjoying all of the NYC landmarks that I stumbled upon. Times Square was the first stop on my journey to find the university my class is in (a destination that was not reached that day, although thankfully I found it the next day when my class started). I hopped off the train because hey, I was apparently at Times Square! I didn't stay long, but the iconic buildings and the sheer size of all the billboards and throngs off people streaming through the streets were exactly how I'd pictured NYC. I was Alice, I had drank the potion, and I was firmly down the rabbit hole. Throughout the rest of the day, I found myself walking down Wall Street (not finding the protesters occupying it, although I did look for them), taking a ferry to the Statue of Liberty, meeting a wonderful Taiwanese girl whose name I sadly cannot remember, and going with her to the beautiful 9/11 memorial (after which we both got lost on the way to the subway and stumbled upon the protesters).

I didn't truly begin to feel at home, though, until I started my classes. When I first walked into the building, which I had found by sheer chance and a momentously helpful sign, I met a group of people who have already become great friends and comrades. They are all incredible people, ranging from a man who has lived in Greece taking care of sea turtles to another who worked for 2 years as a clown for the Barnum and Bailey circus. And most importantly of all, I can be myself around them, bizarre sense of humor, bouts of nervousness, and all without worry. It seems like this will be vital if the signs of "encouragement" from the last class are anything to go by. First of all, it is never a good sign if the people running the class you are taking think you will need signs of trite motivational sayings to keep you going. It's even worse when some of those signs say "Smile! Tomorrow will be worse!" and numerous others advise you to say goodbye to both sleep and any loved ones you might feel the need to interact with. So far, a whole 2 days and one 20 minute lesson of teaching in, I'm feeling pretty good about everything. However, it is possible that this will be my last post for the rest of the course and my next post will be lamenting the hair that I pulled out and the coma that I will soon fall into.