For my last class with the teenagers I had three girls and one younger brother, who drew pictures on graph paper for an hour and a half while the rest of us did a lesson based around an episode of Blackadder Goes Forth.
The official end-of-the-year party was scheduled for midway through the afternoon. After an Oscar-length series of speeches (“They'll be thanking God next,” muttered the Spanish teacher standing next to me) during which the native speakers were called out one-by-one to receive booze, chocolates and a yellow rose, the food and wine were finally opened, the Russian women pretended they weren't really all that hungry after all and the British men loaded their plates as if it was an all-you-can-eat buffet with a twenty-minute cut off.
“No topics today,” asked my final adult class, four hours and one or two glasses of wine later. “Let's talk about life. Where are you going next?”
Good question, I thought to myself.
3 comments:
Well, where?
Tokyo, I reckon. Nothing else has really caught my eye so I'm counting on more jobs coming up in January.
I was thinking of Libya with Bell or the BC but not sure I'd like 12 months with only sand and camels for company.
Libya's hard, to be sure, but I've kind of fallen in love with it. You can save a lot of money, if you get a good contract. I worked for Bell in the past - they were ok, and the project manager on the GECOL project now is a really good bloke.
I'd recommend it, but NOT for a whole 12 months. Three months is as much as most people can stand, without a break.
I'm beginning to eye up the Euro-zone, given the weakness of the pound.
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