So Long and Thanks for All the Khapsa

It’s been nothing if not an eventful year. I carried on a long distance relationship for seven months only to have it implode upon that distance being closed. I had wild flings in the wake. I’ve seen France, Budapest (twice), Taiwan and Sri Lanka. I reunited with an old friend whom I haven’t seen in over ten years and met his wonderful family. I survived an entire year living in a strict Islamic theocracy, teaching some of the worst students I am ever likely to encounter anywhere. I’ve made new friends. I’ve picked up the basics of another language. I’ve experienced what it is like to be firmly middle-class, and have made enough money to pay off my student loan, at last. 

And now it’s time to go. 

Despite the adventure it is been, I am very happy to be moving on. I am looking forward to enjoying the liberties of my own country and Japan. But there are things I’m going to miss about Saudi Arabia. I’ll miss the evenings, which depending on the time of year, are either warm or cool, but are always good for walking. I’ll miss the cheap goods and services, and having more than enough money to buy whatever I want. I’ll miss the easy-going good-naturedness of Saudis. I’ll miss meeting people from a variety of ethnic and cultural backgrounds that I usually don’t get to meet in Canada. I’ll miss studying and practicing Arabic. I’ll miss the weekend trips to Jeddah, Yanbu or the Economic City.  Most of all, I’ll miss my friends.

This last month, having the freedom to experience living here without the distraction of work, I think I’ve gotten some real insight into what it means to be Saudi. Although this country is probably the most strictly Theocratic place on Earth, outside of certain parts of Syria and Iraq, let me tell you, it’s only on the face of it. Young people here are just as wild and hungry for experience as young people in other parts of the world. They drink, they do drugs, watch movies and listen to music. They like to party and they have boyfriends and girlfriends. The only difference is that they are covert. It all has to be done carefully, in secret. 

Nor is the piety what you might expect from a county that is, on paper, one hundred per cent Muslim. As far as I can tell most Saudis do not pray five times a day—and some, I am sure, do not pray at all. Like in any country, there are good people there are bad people, and there are every shade of grey. As one might expect, depending on their own religious leanings, piety and quality of character don’t seem to have a direct relationship. There are pious Muslims that are wonderful, lovely people; and there are non-devout Muslims that are also wonderful, lovely people. Similarly, there are both devout and non-devout Muslims who are brutish and nasty.

Western media likes to paint a picture of Muslims in general as violent, irrational, freedom hating people, or at the very least, it focuses entirely on those Muslims that happen to be so. Of course, it’s true that there are these kinds of people all over the world, in every culture, in every religion. Even, as I am loathe to admit, within Buddhism. Of course, whenever a Muslim points out to me that in Myanmar, there are Buddhists, even Buddhist monks murdering Muslims, I am always quick to point out that these cannot be REAL Buddhists: that the first precept, even for lay followers is not to kill. Similarly, when the subject of the Islamic State, comes up in the office, they are always discredited for the same reason: real Muslims do not murder. Verses of the Quran are always cited to support this assertion. 

When crazy people storm into the offices of French cartoonists and shoot everyone inside, they don’t do it because they are “extremists”, they do it because they are crazy. Very, very few people within the Muslim community condone this kind of behaviour. I worked with a guy who, upon our first meeting told me I was going to go to hell for not believing in God and calls non-believers “infidels” behinds their backs. He gets into fights with the other Muslims over small matters of faith, doesn’t get along with anybody, and has threatened violence to several members of the staff. In short, he’s bat-shit crazy, and obsessed with the letter of Islam. But as zealous and mentally unstable as he is, I can’t imagine even him murdering people for his faith. It takes a rare bird indeed.

Saudi Arabia is a country that is changing quickly. Ten years ago people thought that women would never be seen walking around without head scarfs. But I’ve seen in numerous times—in King Abdullah Economic City (owned by Dubai investors), and even in the malls in Jeddah. 

Speaking of his highness, he does not appear to have much more time on this Earth, and his successor is likely to bring in more liberal legislation. Actually, King Abdullah himself has approved legislation that will, for the first time, make tourist visas available in Saudi Arabia. I don’t know, his decision may be motivated by him understanding the need to diversify the Saudi economy more than anything else. And granted: it is already easy to obtain visas for hajj and umrah.  None-the-less, it will open the county up to people of all walks of life, and with them, new perspective and new ideas.

To be perfectly honest, Saudis are in desperate need of a little insight into the way the rest of the world works—especially in the field of education. The quality of education here is shameful. Running a classroom here is a constant battle, and it’s exhausting. Frankly, after a while, you just stop giving a damn. A colleague confided in me today, “I’ve stopped doing all the things I used to try and make this a better place. Now, I do nothing, and nobody has noticed.” I could only nod.  The standards here are shockingly low.

I’m glad for having the experience to teach here, and I’ll be benefiting from the money I made for years, but I think it’s actually made me a worse teacher. Working here has made me complacent and lazy. I got paid very well, but there was zero accountability. Literally none of my students passed this last trimester. I tried. Oh God how I tried. But in the end, the utter incompetence of students who had only gotten to where they are because of cheating, coupled with an out-right refusal to learn on one side, and the incompetence of the administration, who refused to listen to, much less adapt things to instructor feedback made any hope of effectively English next to impossible.   

Which is one very big reason why I have decided to leave and teach in Japan.  I will be teaching adults. Adults who have had a proper education, and actually know how to learn. Gods be praised! Instead of spending classroom time reminding students to put their phones away, get their pens from their lockers, stop chatting while I’m giving instructions et cetera, I’ll be able to teach. I don’t care if I’m taking a fifty per cent pay cut—it’s going to be worth it. Also because I won’t be living in a country that thinks where I put my penis is government business.

So, it’s goodbye sand and palm trees; hello mountains and cherry blossoms. Goodbye camels and sweet dates; hello panda bears and sushi. Goodbye thobes, and shmougs; hello kimonos and baseball caps. Saudi Arabia, it’s been a slice, but it’s time for me to go. So long, and thanks for all the khapsa.

And thanks for all of you who have kept up with my blog this past year. Knowing people have been reading has kept me motivated to write. Doing so has enriched my life, and I hope it has in some way enriched yours.

Peace, Love, and Pizza

Brady  

The Penultimate Post?

T minus six days until lift-off...inshallah.
Boy, am I ready to get out of here. I haven't had a good night of sleep in five days or so. Evidently, my body has decided to protest Saudi Arabia, and is pretending I'm in Canada already. I don't get tired until twelve in the afternoon, and by the time twelve midnight rolls around, I'm no longer tired. Why would I be? That's lunchtime in Vancouver, after all.

I can't fix it with drugs. I went to one pharmacy to ask them for sleeping medication. They gave me antihistamines. Not surprisingly, they didn't help. I went to a second pharmacy, and they gave me actual sleep medication made with Valerian root. I took a double-dose, but no luck. My usual go-to, melatonin, which is available over the counter in every drug-store in Canada, is no where to be found, much less prescribed.

I've been up all night trying to sleep, and too tired during the day to do much of anything. I imagine, this is what purgatory is like.

Come to think of it, this past month has been rather purgatory-like. Since coming back from my final vacation in Budapest, due to a lack of new student admissions, I have been allowed to fulfill the remainder of my contract relaxing at home. I know, poor me, right? The problem, is I'm stuck in Rabigh. Christmas and New Year's came and went. There were no celebrations, no merry-making, and indeed, barely a mention of the holiday at all.

It wasn't that depressing--I have only spent two Christmases at home in the past five years, and even when at home, my family generally doesn't make that big of a deal out it. I went for kebab with my colleague, Dave, one of the few non-Muslims I know in Rabigh. Afterwards, I went home. I probably had tea later with friends. Purgatory.

Indeed, discounting the vacations, that's really been what this year has been like--a big old meh. These days, when trying to go to sleep, I just try to focus on the void. The void is empty, it's big beyond imagining, and incredibly peaceful. But I can never hold my attention on it for long, and I end up laying in bed for eight fucking hours, getting more and more frustrated. I'm not ready for this bland existence. I don't want my life to be meh anymore. I want to have a little color in my life. Even if that leads to more hang-overs and heart-aches, so be it, at least live will have some flavor. Next year, I want to put up a Christmas tree, and later, puke over somebody's balcony. They have Christmas in Japan, right?

I had hoped to be filling these meh days with scuba dives. The one thing I really wanted to achieve before leaving Rabigh was getting my PADI license. Even though a group of us started in November, we have yet to finish, and were I to leave things in the hands the others, I would never get my license. So after much cajoling, I've attempted to get it done without the group. I've met privately with the instructor to write the final exam, and have arranged with him to do my final dives this Thursday and Friday--my final two days in the country. I've been pushing for this for months, and if it actually get's done, it's going to be right on the wire.

Similarly, I feel obliged to harass HR for my plane ticket home. After much haranguing, I have obtained my final exit visa, and form for my final payment remittance...but I've got less than a week left in the country, and still no ticket. It's imperative that I acquire it on time as my passport expires only a few days after my end of contract date and every day that I'm stuck here, in purgatory, is another day I won't be able to spend with friends and family before shipping off to Japan in February.

Give me heaven, or give me hell, just get me out of here, Allah.

Christmas in Saudi Arabia (or My Daily Routine)

Christmas in Saudi Arabia just another day. In fact, had I not been sent a Merry Christmas message from my parents, I just may have forgotten it completely. It's still hot and dry. There are still five prayers, and everyone is going to work. Except for me of, course--I'm still enjoying my extended holiday. Anyway, it's just a normal day, like any other, bearing no special significance here, whatsoever.

But how does one spend one's day, when he is stuck in Saudi Arabia, with nothing to do all day? Well, listen, one must make a schedule, if one hopes not to fall into the abyss of madness. So I wrote myself one on a page from a small notepad and fixed to my wall with duct tape, so I don't forget.

My schedule suggests that I wake up at ten AM. This, as it turns out was being optimistic. In reality, most days, like today, I'm up by the crack of noon, after enjoying a healthy ten hours of sleep. File under: finally I get to relive my teenage years, or now I know what it's like to be an Arabian.

Next comes tea time. I make my self a cup of green tea and slowly sip it, while sitting on my little couch. I don't do anything else during this time--no TV, or reading, or whatever. Just listening to my thoughts...which usually whisk me off to somewhere in the civilized world.

After tea time, I do my morning yoga routine. I contort my body into all sorts of weird positions, all the while wondering how in the hell I gained so much weight. I do both of these things for half and hour to forty-five minutes. And then usually make breakfast.

Breakfast usually consists of a gigantic salad made from whatever vegetables I bought the day before. I'm trying to repair some of the havok wreaked on my system from eating cafeteria food at the institute for a year. It's a slow process, but I think in time, I'll begin to feel like a human being again.

Then it's time for chores. I must finally be an adult--I've scheduled clean-up time for myself. This usually means cleaning up in the kitchen first. I have to do it, because no one else will. To be fair, I don't think anyone else ever goes into the kitchen, so I guess that's fair. Then I clean up my room and do laundry or whatever. I know. It's a thrilling life.

Next it's meditation time. I sit on a cushion for half an hour an focus on breathing. You would be amazed at the kinds of crap the mind starts spewing out when you're meditating. It's a fascinating phenomenon--it's like the mind doesn't want to be quiet, and if you ask it too, it throws a temper tantrum, making even more noise!

But by the time the thirty minutes are up, my mind is usually nice and clear for study time. I usually crack open my Learning Arabic textbook, and slog my way trough a couple of pages over the following forty five minutes to an hour, and maybe watch some incomprehensible Egyptian television.

Then it's off to the Arabian Palm hotel, where I am now. I've scheduled two hours for writing, but as it turns out, like my wake-up time, two hours was a bit ambitious. So, I just write until I get bored. That's what I'm doing now, by the way! I go to the Palm for two reasons: first to get out of the house, and second, because it has the best internet in Rabigh...so when I'm done writing I can download movies, or play online games.

At which point, I've entered the free time portion of my day, which extends to about nine o'clock, when I put in the headphones and walk for two hours, in a desperate attempt to lose some of the extra twenty pounds I've gained here before returning to Canada, and ultimately arriving in Japan.

The rest of the day, you can usually find me playing video games or having tea with my colleagues. I expect tonight we will be eating mindi in lieu of turkey dinner.

Merry Christmas from the Kingdom!

Getting a PADI License in the Kingdom

In Saudi Arabia, you have to make your own fun, but that's not always a bad thing. It encourages you to learn new things and try activities you have never tried before. Last June, I went on a Discovery Scuba dive with some of my colleagues in Yanbu. We took a boat out into the ocean, and got a taste of scuba diving. Since then we have been trying to get things organized to get out PADI diving licenses.

The main reason it took so long, was we were waiting for the school's safety officer to upgrade his accreditation, so he could be part of the training. But, in the end it was worth it, because are doing the bulk of the training in Rabigh, which means that I finally get to spend time in the Petro Rabigh compound!

So we finally got started with this thing about a month ago. Our instructor is a Philipino dive master from Jeddah. He is fluent in English, but his grammar is atrocious. He's about as wide as he is tall and has hands like hams. Very nice guy, with a ton of experience. We were given a book to study and a video to watch.

Since out initial meeting, we've met three times to do knowledge reviews, quizzes and tests. One benefit of having our safety officer on board has been that we have been able to have the meetings on campus. Unfortunately, getting people organized has been a comedy of errors--people are always late, or don't show up...and of the six of us who signed up, two have already dropped out.

In fact, originally, we planned to be finished the training by now, but we have only done one pool dive, and half of the text book. I guess we're really going to have to step it up if we want to get finish the training by the time my contract is up. I'm sure we will though.

So, the training has been a bit of hassle, but it's worth while. Scuba diving is a really cool experience. It's like entering a whole new world. All of your senses are augmented: all sounds are amplified, your sense of equilibrium goes crazy, your sense of size and distance is skewed. The coolest thing: you're moving in three-dimentional space. The feeling of weightlessness is delightful. And of course, you're surrounded by nature...at least if you're not doing a pool dive!

The best part: it's affordable too. For the course, and basic equipment (wetsuit, fins, mask, boots, snorkel and bag) it will have costed me about $750.



PS, for those interested, I recently did a guest post for my friend Carl's (AKA Duke Stewart) travel website. Check it out: http://dukestewartwrites.com/travel-enlightenment-part-1/

When It Rains, It Pours

Nine months out of the year, it's hellishly hot in western Saudi Arabia, and during that time, there's so little condensation that if it 'rains', it usually comes down as dirty globs of spittle for about an hour and then stops completely. Luckily, from November to January, the weather is actually very pleasant, and occasionally, it actually rains proper rain...which tends to lead to utter fucking chaos, since there isn't the proper infrastructure to deal with it!

Recently, at our school, a few minutes into the fourth block, it started to rain--not in the aforementioned "spittle" way, but real, honest-to-goodness, civilized world kind of rain. Of course, all of the trainees rushed to the window to witness this most wonderful of natural phenomenons, as if it was the first time in their lives they have ever witnessed such an event. Water? From the SKY? What strange magic is this? Basically, once it starts raining, there's a camel's chance in Siberia that the students (being a mere twenty-two years old, on average) will be able to pay attention, or go to the next class.

And so it was when in really started coming down. Now this building wasn't built with rain in mind, so there are electrical outlets on the floors--like actually coming out of the floor itself. And, rain has a habit, in some classrooms of coming in through closed windows, pooling on the floor, and creeping towards the electrical outlets. Such was my concern while the students all crowded outside to check out the rain. We ended up cutting off the electricity to the buildings and letting the students go, which was kind of nice, because we got half of the day off too.

I took the opportunity to drive around with a colleague and take pictures of the city. For a while, I felt like Rabigh wasn't so bad, after all.

Riding around, we could see big pools of water here and there, on and off the street. Not surprising, seeing as how there are no storm drains, or even a sewer system in Rabigh. Also not surprisingly, we saw a couple car accidents. Bonus: while driving around, we saw a herd of camels too!

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon off, and all thanks to Saudis having no idea how to cope with rain. It happened again Sunday morning, so school was cancelled again...even though it turned out to be a sunny day. The best part: this was all on the heels of the king asking everyone to pray for rain!

Coming Up on the Final Stretch

It's been more than nine months since I arrived in Saudi Arabia, and I've got to do some serious thinking about what happens next. Should I endure Saudi Arabia for another year? Are the fat paycheck and the vast swaths of vacation time worth it? Or should  I go back out into the world and experience a new country while I am still young and full of vigor? Should I take my earnings and spend the next year traveling the world? Or should I pay back what's left of my student loan, and hurry home to rack up a new one?

I'm always weighing the pros and cons of living in the Kingdom. The job is, frankly, a cakewalk...which isn't always a good thing. Because I am not held up to very high standards, the incentive to grow as a teacher and reach for excellence isn't always there. The money is good--but I have to make a lot of sacrifices for it: I have to live in a back-water burg in a theocratic dictatorship which regards alcohol, premarital sex and dating, music, even cinema as sinful--and illegal. It's not danger pay--it's desert pay. They give us tons of vacation time, which is nice, but the cost of plane tickets adds up after a while--and no one who hasn't had their brains baked solid wants to stay in Saudi during time off. All things considered, I don't think I can handle another year. I can see myself coming back eventually, but I need a break.

I am tempted to throw caution to the wind, and buy a sixty liter backpack and just travel. I had this idea to start out in Tunisia to practice my French, and then work my way west across north Africa, cross over to Spain, swing over to Portugal before making my way into France, check out Marseille and cross over Italy into Austria to arrive in Hungary and visit my good friend Dave and his family. From there, I would decide whether I wanted to continue on into China (via Siberian express) go home, or whatever.

The responsible part of me wants to go back to Canada, study to get my teacher's license and become a bona fide teacher, to start a master's degree in creative writing or linguistics, or to get some kind of technical writing accreditation--but probably not in Vancouver; Ontario or Quebec would suit me better. The irresponsible part of me wants to go back to Canada, pick up a guitar, start writing songs and learn to paint while I work on the great Canadian novel. I love that part of me, but it lacks discipline!

BUT, what I will most likely end up doing is find a job teaching English in either Japan, Taiwan or Singapore. All three countries have something different to offer: for me, Japan has always had a powerful mystique about it, and I've wanted to go there since I was a teenager. Taiwan has Taipei, which is maybe my favorite city anywhere. And Singapore offers a slightly higher paying job, which requires fewer hours, and in which I would teach to students who already speak English. Of these options, Japan seems like the best, because there I can get a four month contract, which I can renew if I like the place, or not if I decide to move on to somewhere else.

So, those are the options on the table. Should I be responsible, or reckless? Should I stay in Saudi, go home, or go someplace new? Who knows? Thankfully, I'm not anxious. I have faith that the best option will assert itself in time...and time will tell!

Sri Lanka Pt. 2

Having done basically zero research before heading out on my adventure, I was unaware that I could not take a bus directly from Anuradhapura to Sigiriya. I had thought that Sigiriya was a town, and not just an ancient natural wonder/stone fortress. Then again, it might actually be a town after all. It's sometimes a little hard to tell in Sri Lanka...

Taking the mini-bus from Anuradhapura to Dambulla, it struck me that Anuradhapura was much more spread out than I had initially thought. There seemed no end to the road-side buildings, be they stores, houses, or whatever. Eventually, I realized, that's just how it was in Sri Lanka. Also to my surprise, the only road available for the entire journey was a two lanes; there was one lane for each direction. This prompted many hair-raising, and nearly disastrous passing maneuvers. I thought it was absurd that there was such a narrow road connecting Sri Lanka's two most important tourist destinations. Later I would learn that there wasn't even a highway connect Kandy to Colombo--Sri Lanka's two biggest cities!

In Dambulla, I stubbornly ignored tuk-tuks and resolved to walk out of the city center in order to find accommodation. Eventually I found a place with wi-fi for only fifteen hundred rupees. I got a tuk-tuk to the bus station and soon was on my way to Sigiriya: The Lion Rock. Sigiriya is a isolated pillar of rock, which inexplicably rises several hundred feet from ground, with a smaller mini-mountain to the east, but otherwise isolated in it's own little valley.  I must admit, it was pretty cool. I understand that a very long time ago it was a Buddhist monastery, then for a short time converted to a fortress by a usurper king...and then reverted back to a monastery once that king had been deposed. The weather was excellent the scenery was impressive, and the rock itself was a marvel. The only drawbacks were the ticket price, which at three-thousand-nine-hundred rupees was even more expensive than the Anuradhapura circuit; and the throngs of Chinese tourists which were want to impede the progress of those behind them by stopping every twenty meters for group photo shoots. 

By twelve noon I had climbed the rock, checked out a nearby temple, returned to Dambulla and hopped a bus to Kandy. Having witnessed the madness of Colombo, I feared the worst for Sir Lanka's second city. But actually, it was kind of nice. It was way up in the the mountains, there seemed to be a real downtown area, and it just seemed way more chill than Colombo. Someone even showed me where to find an internet cafe without asking me for money...although he did offer to show me the Temple of the Tooth after depositing me at the cafe. I found a decent hotel that overlooked the lake, that didn't cost too much. There, I relaxed on the top floor, an open-air restaurant and did my nightly ritual of drinking Lion beer and checking my messages. The only other people up there were a Dutch couple and the staff.  I chatted to with the owner. He told me how once every couple of days, then monkeys would show up and he would give them something to eat. As the sun went down, a colony of fruit bats made their way past the hotel. Later I went for dinner with the Dutch couple.

Upon  returning to my room, I finished reading the only book I had brought with me--a meditation guide by a Buddhist monk in the Theravada tradition. The book left a bad taste in my mouth that, combined with what I had so far seen of Buddhism in Sri Lanka, left me feeling disenchanted with the religion I had loved for so long. In the book, the end goal of the Buddhist path, Nibana, is described as a remainderless cessation of being. I was aware of this concept before--in fact it's at the very heart of Buddhism. It's sometimes described as a "return to original mind" or the cessation of clinging. But the author I was reading, staunchly denied all that as "making something out of nothing", and wrote it off as foolishness. However, he made no attempt whatsoever to explain why anyone would want such a thing (especially seeing as how the states leading up to enlightenment are supremely blissful), and did very little to explain the old Buddhist conundrum: if there is no self, then what is it that reincarnates? His explanation: the "doer" and the "knower" are both illusions. But then, I wondered, what is it that's aware that the knower is an illusion? How is any of this even possible at all? What vague explanations the author gave towards the end of the book were mostly just references to the suttas. And I thought Buddhists were above that kind of appeal to authority. 



By the next day, my mind was full of dissatisfaction with Buddhism, and I felt very much aggravated that I had put so much stock into this religion for so long. Such was my mindset as I approached the famous "Temople of the Tooth", a Buddhist temple, which houses a tooth taken from the Buddha's funeral pyre. I thought about skipping it and going straight to the bus station, but thought I might as well do something memorable while I was in Kandy. So I approached the entrance, and was asked to change out of my shorts into a pair of pants. As I did so, the man that asked me to change served as a human curtain. I asked him if he was Buddhist and queried him about why anyone would want nibbana. Like a good Buddhist, he immediately replied it was the end of suffering. I told him I didn't understand why someone would want that. He had no reply. Shockingly, when I made the gesture to shake his hand, he remained unmoving and it seemed to me that he was equally perturbed by the notion of nibbana.

I got another shock when I was asked to pay admission. I have been to dozens of temples and churches, many far nicer than this one, and I never had to pay a fee. Not for Heinsa in Korea, which houses the Tripitaka Koreana, nor for Notre Dame in Paris. Donations boxes yes, entry tickets, no. I begrudgingly forked over a thousand rupees, rebuked a "tour guide", who of course began to offer his service before asking me if I wanted it, and made my way into the temple...and immediately thought about turning back. Throngs of devotes clogged the temple, again carrying lotus flowers, this time to offer up to Buddha's tooth before praying to it. After fighting my way up the stairs, it soon became clear that I wasn't going to get anywhere near the tooth, or whatever container it was housed in. So I just continued on, and looked about the very forgettable temple. In another room, there was another relic, and with lotus flowers offer up to it. There was a sign that warned against smelling the flowers-ostensibly because they were for the Buddha only. Superstitious idiocy.

In yet another room, there were a series of paintings that told the story of the tooth--from it's being dug out of the Buddha's funeral pyre to it's present location. It turned out that it had quite a rich history, and that it had even been instrumental in sparking warfare. There was even a painting that claimed that it resisted attempts to destroy it, claiming it had withstood the impact of a sledge hammer then levitated into the air and shone like a beacon, for some damn reason. I went through one museum they didn't make me pay for, but skipped a second they wanted money for. I left the temple in disgust. I would never call myself a Buddhist again, as I was occasionally prone to do, in order to simplify my beliefs. Buddhism, it seemed to me then was no better or rational than any of the other world religions, which I has so often criticized.  

Making my way to the bus station, I had decided I had seen enough things for one trip. It was time to go to the south and enjoy the beach. I had to return to Colombo first, but there turned out to be a highway to the southern province. Hallelujah! I arrived in Galle by sunset, and by sheer coincidence ran into a fellow named Walter, with whom I had worked in Rabigh for two days before he was transferred to Jeddah. We decided to travel together and went to Hikkaduwa beach,which turned out to be a bust, and the next day went to Unawatuna, where I would spend my remaining three days, and Walter would spend his remaining two. I did very little of note during those three days, mainly sipping assorted alcohols on the beach and going for the odd trek every so often. By the time the three days were up I was thoroughly relaxed.

Before heading back to Colombo, I explored the fort at Galle, which was very nice indeed. I stayed at the hostel I had began with, watched a movie, had a final bottle of beer, and took a snooze before taking my 2 AM cab to the airport. One of the hostel workers asked me how I like Sri Lanka. I told him is it was nice. He asked me when I would be back, and I replied: never.  

EID Vacation: Sri Lanka (Pt.1)

Well, this was unexpected. Four weeks into classes, and it's time for vacation again. Game on. Having just gotten back from vacation, my main criterion for the break was to find someplace cheap. I new basically nothing about Sri Lanka, but a return ticket was under $700, and some quick web research confirmed my suspicions that the in-country expenses would be minimal. Away we go.

I had expected to spend the majority of my time in Colombo, sipping tea and sketching from a comfortable sea-side perch. Colombo was not the city I expected. Colombo is not even a city. Colombo is many little cities with no space in between them. Really--they even have names, like "Pettah", where the train station is and "Havelock City", where my hostel was. Alternatively, you can call them "Colombo 01" and "Colombo 05" respectively. Imagine, if  you will, a metropolitan area of 4.5 million people AND NO CITY PLANNING WHATSOEVER. That's Colombo. My hostel, quite removed from any beach or metropolitan center was located smack dab in the middle of this gigantic dog's breakfast called Colombo.



I gave it day. I found the ocean but there wasn't any beach. To my amazement, instead of developing the Oceanside property with walkways, bike paths, basketball courts and the like, inexplicably there was only a railway. Well, at least the passengers would have a nice view! I was walking along the coast when I was convinced to go to a Buddhist-temple by a would-be scammer who insisted that we go see the "elephant ceremony" that would miss if we didn't go right away. I must admit, the temple was interesting, but the "elephant ceremony" ended up being a chained up baby elephant eating plantain leaves. By that point, I was well aware of what was going on--he was taking me on a tour that I hadn't asked for, and would bill me for it later. Leaving the temple, I told him to take a hike, and then had it out with the tuk-tuk driver that had brought us to the temple: our clever tour guide's accomplice.

That evening, I had some drinks with some of the others staying at the hostel. The lightweights were weeded out over a game of King's Cup and the rest of us eventually found ourselves at a very forgettable nightclub. We had a round of drinks and left. The next morning, I decided Colombo wasn't worth another day. The hostel lacked sufficient guidebooks, or maps, so I went online, picked out five tourist attractions, found them on a map, and wrote them down in my notebook, in what I thought was a logical order and headed for the train station. The names I wrote down were: Anuradhapura, Sigiriya, Kandy, Adam's Peak and Galle.

I found the train station and after some tribulation, namely standing dick to ass in a a ticketing room for half an hour, I procured my first class train ticket for one thousand rupees and got on the train to Anuradhapura. I could have gotten third class for two hundred-fifty, but the thought of standing dick to ass in a hot, sweaty cab for three and a half hours deterred me. I arrived in Anuradhapura somewhat after dark. As I got off the train I was immediately aware of two things: I had no idea where the fuck I was, and if I didn't start looking like I knew where I was going immediately, I would be accosted by throngs of tuk-tuk drivers like so many mosquitoes at a Colombo hostel. So I just started walking in the direction I assumed was towards town.



Before long a van slowed beside me and the man inside predictably asked me where I was going. I said downtown. He said I could jump in. So I did, but instead of dropping me off downtown, he just kept driving, insisting that I see his hostel. Seeing as how I had no idea who this nutter was, I told him to stop the fucking van or I would jump out. Only when I had the door half way open did he relent and turn the van around. This time he passed through town and took another turn, saying that I should check out the hotel he decided to drop me off at and if I didn't like it, he would take me to his hostel. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was not going with him anywhere and that he should fuck off. He still waited for me to come out of the hotel, and I had to tell him to get lost again.  I waited until he was out of sight until I started walking. I made my way back into town, found a restaurant, hired a tuk, and eventually found a decent place for a reasonable price.  

The next day, I hired a tuk-tuk driver named Douchematar (I remember his name because it's one letter away from being "Douche Master") to take me to Sri Jaya Maha Bodhi--the oldest intentionally planted tree in the world, which grew from a cutting from the tree under which Siddhartha Gotama reached enlightenment. I had hoped against hope that I would be able to meditate under the tree. No such luck: it was raised on a platform out of reach from ordinary folk. On all sides foolish people prayed to the tree and offered it lotus blossoms. Neither for the first nor the last time during the trip I though to myself, these people don't understand Buddhism at all. I was quite a nice tree as trees go, however, and I was able to procure a couple of leaves which had fallen to the ground.   

The rest of the morning and a few hours into the afternoon, Douchematar drove me around and endless succession of ruins and stupas, for which I had to buy a ticket for twenty five hundred rupees (ouch!). Douchematar first asked that I buy a ticket for him, but when I refused, it turned out not to be a problem, as he could drive around the sites anyway. Nice try, Douche. When we finished, Douchematar dropped me at the bus station (the wrong one) and drove off with a cool fifteen hundred rupees. I think that must have been my most expensive day in Sri Lanka! Eventually I found the right bus stop, crammed in, and made the very stressful and uncomfortable journey to Dambulla.

To be continued in part two...

The Incredible Benefits of Working in Saudi Arabia

Today, I'll be writing a bit about the fall semester so far, in order to show how low-stress and rewarding being employed in Saudi Arabia can be.

After coming back from vacation a month ago, we teachers spent the first week doing very little. We cleaned our desks, we proctored re-sits for students who had failed to show up to their exams the previous month. Our schedules weren't ready, so we couldn't preview what we would be teaching so, I spent most of the week drilling Arabic vocabulary.

At the beginning of the second week I got my schedule, and to my amazement and delight, I had a mere nineteen classroom hours. Additionally, I would be teaching classes wherein the trainees would not be given grades, and in which I could significantly alter the syllabus. I have zero responsibility to make the students test-passers, as they will not be tested on material taught in my class, which means we can have some fun!. I take teaching seriously, but I believe that classes should be engaging. This semester, I could really test that theory. I could see what works, and what doesn't, and hopeful get they students excited about learning.




To make matters even better, in addition to teaching a section of level three students, I got a section of new recruits, which are for the most part very bright and well-behaved. They are so well behaved that I'm starting to feel less like a baby-sitter and more like an actual honest to God teacher. 

The first four week went fairly well...

And now because of Eid al-Adha, we're all on vacation again. Originally, I thought it would only be ten days, but it turned out to be fifteen. So, I've been relaxing in Rabigh since last Thursday, studying Arabic, doing Yoga, practicing meditation, wandering around, and all of the other things I enjoy that are legal in Rabigh. Tomorrow, I fly to Sri Lanka, where I'll spend the next ten days, and do some things which are NOT legal here.

When I get back, we will have eight more weeks of classes, and then we will be off on vacation once again...and if decide not to renew my contract, I'll have just over a month after that until I am free to wander the world, go back to visit Canada, or go seek employment elsewhere.

Coming soon: Sri Lanka

Driving is Insane in Saudi Arabia

Eight months in, and I got in my first car accident in Saudi Arabia. FINALLY. Gosh, I though it was never going to happen. I kept asking myself, "what is wrong with me? Am I that unattractive that no one in this entire country is going to violently smash their vehicle into mine?

I've mentioned it before, but I figure now is good time to devote an entry to driving in Saudi Arabia. It's insane. The infrastructure is screwy, the drivers think they're formula one hopefuls, gas is literally cheaper than water, and the cops are ambivalent. Small wonder it's often  harder to spot a vehicle that doesn't have obvious body damage than one that does.

The accident my roommate and I were in, as you can see, was relatively minor. Perhaps in describing it, I can give some insight into a typical driving experience here. Context: there are no stop signs, nor are their dividing lines painted on the road. So. We were just arriving home. My roommate, Erron was driving. He banked slightly right, before he turned left into the parking spot, so he could park straight. While he was banking right, a truck ran straight through the four-way, tried to pass us on the left, so he hit us as we were turning.

When the cop came to the scene, he was as relaxed as a sloth in a tree. While he listened to both Erron and the other driver tell their accounts, he didn't seem particularly interested in either.  In fact, he didn't even step out of his vechicle to take a proper look at the accident, let alone take pictures. All the while, cars were passing the accident on the left and the right, which didn't seem to bother the policeman at all. He seemingly arbitrary surmised that the it was twenty-five per cent Erron's fault and seventy-five percent the other driver's fault.

I hope this gets sorted out soon, so we can get another rental...but I'm not keeping my fingers crossed. 


As reckless as the drivers are here, it's a wonder that there aren't more accidents. Last night, I saw a kid in a smashed-up car blaze down the street toward Rabigh's busiest intersection, pull up obliquely in front of first cars in line waiting for the red to change, and then run the light. I wish this were atypical--but it's not. And dimes to dollars no one wrote down his license plate number or called the police.
 
The problem lies not only with poor driving habits, but also with the poor infrastructure. If there were a stop sign in place, maybe just maybe that guy would have at least slowed down and avoided hitting us. It should be tougher to get a license. But even if it were harder, this is Saudi Arabia, and if you have wasta (influence), or know someone with wasta, you can get around just about anything. Cops need to start giving more tickets--they clearly don't do this enough. I think part of the reason why, is that if they stop a Saudi, they will argue with them...and if they have wasta, they may even threaten them!

Proper infrastructure should be put it place. It would help...although it would still be dangerous. People here drive like absolute maniacs. Why? Maybe because it's the only fun thing you're allowed to do here. Especially for young men. Back home, kids would have other outlets. They could go to rock concerts, go out with girls, go see a movie or go compete in a sporting event. (You're allowed to do sports here, it's just too hot and there isn't much interest). But here there is nothing. So kids get in their cars, and they go "drifting", which means they drive so bloody fast that the tires are barely touching the road.

This means that people die. Every trimester one of the trainees is either seriously injured or dies in an auto accident. Every one of my trainees knows someone who has died in an auto accident. Last trimester, two of out instructors got into a serious auto accident because a Saudi was driving recklessly. The instructor who was driving was not wearing a seat belt, and he was thrown through the window. The other shattered his right leg, and had to crawl out of the burning wreckage. He came quite close to dying after contracting pneumonia as a result of third-rate medical treatment.  

Of course, the terrible road planning doesn't help. Sometimes you have to make some inconvenient detours in able to turn around and get to where you want to go. This results in people driving on the wrong side of the street. The traffic lights are terrible: they are often placed several feet before the intersection, so drivers can't see the lights turn, and often they just guess. Also. there isn't any paint on the road to speak of--rarely do you come across a four-way stop, there are few zebra crossings, and not often there aren't even lines in the middle of the road. So, people often act like the rules that those marking as are there to remind us of don't exist! People drive in the middle of the road, they go through four ways without stopping. God help you if you're a pedestrian walking across the street if there's a car coming.

So, yeah. The driving here is insane. If you've never been to these parts before, and decide to drive. Please exercise caution!

Summer Vacation Part Three: Pandas to Camels

No matter how unreasonably long the vacation, it's never quite long enough. I was in Taiwan just long enough for it to start to feel like home. I felt myself reluctant to go, having fallen in love with the city and the people. Although, to my surprise, after a couple of days in Arabia, I am not at all discontent with being here. It has allowed me to slow down, relax, and reflect--things I seemed unable to bring myself to do while still in Taiwan. Now, I find that I am torn between wanting to stay in Saudi for the long haul, not just so I can save heaps of money, but so I can enjoy long vacations, travel the world, and live a peaceful, reflective lifestyle in between; and jumping on the next plane back to Taipei, so I can enjoy all of the things I really love about life all year long.



My final two weeks in Taipei, like the previous two, was flurry of activity. I wrote the previous entry from the coastal city of Haulien, which serves as a jumping-off point for exploring the stunningly beautiful Torko Gorge, for which Formosa (the beautiful island) was named. Although, most the majority of the trails were officially closed off due to damage from the recent typhoon, in surprisingly short order, I found a very good trail, which lasted several kilometers up a mountain, which lead to an isolated tribal village. Indeed, I crossed paths with two brown-skinned Taiwan natives with face-tattoos coming down the mountain as I was on my way up.

Despite the beauty of Toroko Gorge, after only two days in Haulien, I felt myself drawn back to my beloved Taipei. Full disclosure--I was going back for a girl...which very quickly proved to be a bad idea. So, from that point on I spend most of my vacation chasing various women...which at the time seemed perfectly sensible, knowing full well that in a very short time I would be back in the land of fig trees and chastity. After several dates, meetings and hang-outs, I found my self ill-satisfied, and finally ready to throw my hands up in defeat, finally willing to stop and actually pay mind to those damn emotions whirring around inside, begging for the attention which they had been denied up until that point. And then, against all odds and expectations, I spent my last few days with an amazing woman, who just so happened to be in the same situation as myself...and whom I haven't been able to stop thinking about since. 



Thus, I have come to realize that there really are some truly wonderful women in Taiwan, who are fun, clever, good-humored, and down to Earth--and willing to date a guy like me. Why wouldn't I want to live in a city like this? I could spend my free time doing the things I love--biking, hiking, doing yoga, and even Aikido. With some luck, I could even shack up with a pretty little Taiwanese girl. I could eat healthy food and drink craft beer. I could learn Chinese. I could live in relative freedom and delight in the finer things in life! I would have to work harder, I would get paid less, and I would have far less vacation time but I could truly enjoy life one day to the next, if I lived in Taiwan. 

During my two days in Korea, before flying back to Arabia, I was surprised at how crowded and oppressive Korea suddenly seemed. And when I got back to Arabia at last, I was equally taken aback by the emptiness and chaos. I how I longed for that happy medium to which I had grown so accustomed for the past month. But that feeling changed rather quickly. I was immediately and intensely discontented...but it forced me to stop. That was a great boon; my need to constantly be moving in Taipei was doing no good for my emotional well-being. People often complain about living in Rabigh, but it is peaceful. Also living here can be a big opportunity, if you have the right mindset. It's the perfect place for study, getting in shape, and learning new skills, if you have the requisite automotivation. The lack of places to go and women to chase can actually be considered a big advantage--and if one IS content to live here, as previously stated, the monetary rewards are considerable and the vacation time borders on absurd.



In my case, there are even more incentives to say: the work environment itself is constantly improving. Classes are becoming fewer, teacher support is getting better, and there are now real consequences for unruly students. If that is not enough, there is plenty of room for advancement in my company, and they offer free online master's degrees for employees.

So, in short, Arabia can offer me long-term financial security, professional development, time to develop skills independently, and more vacation time than I can shake a stick at. On the other hand, Taipei can offer me fun, companionship, the opportunity to develop skill in things I love, and a picaresque living environment.

I'm not sure what will happen. I would like to spend a year in Taipei...but the longer I'm back here, in Arabia, the more enticing staying another year seems. Things keep getting better here. Career-wise, it's really the opportunity of a lifetime. But then again, is any amount of money worth living life alone? Can you put a price tag on love? If I've learned anything from the past six months, it's that long-distance relationships do not work. I can no longer pretend that they do. So, I've got to re-think my game-plan. But what is my priority--money or love?

Summer Vacation Part Two: The Northern City

In keeping with tradition, let me introduce the topic of this entry, which will (in theory) prevent it from degenerating into a ramble about my personal life: Taipei is a fantastic city. I would love to live here, and if I could go back in time, I would have done a year teaching here rather than in Korea. 

I've been in Taiwan a couple of weeks now, and I've spend all of that time in Taipei. I didn't imagine I would be in the city for much more than as week, but here I still am after nearly three. It's been a real adventure. I've really gotten everything I needed and under different circumstances, I would say that it was the time of my life. Given the actual circumstances, it's been the perfect place to lick my wounds, reflect on life, and begin to move on. (Refer to the previous entry for context).

                                 

I came here on short notice on the advice of my friend Cathy, who I met doing tutoring last year in Vancouver. As per her recommendation, I checked in at a hostel called The Meeting Place. It's just far enough out of the way to feel comfortable without being feeling disconnected. People there are, as a rule very social, and there is a large common area in which people are often watching a movie from a projector. The atmosphere was chill and so were the people. Shortly after I arrived, the weather started to turn sour. It was perfect. While writing in the computer room, someone suggested I download an app called "Skout" and that if I did, I would  be hanging out with a Taiwanese girl that very evening. But, I was warned that Taiwanese are, for the most part, nice girls, so I shouldn't be expecting too much. I decided it was worth a shot, and as luck would have it, I met Taiwanese girl named Jenny Chang, and she showed me around the Shilin Night Market. Turns out Jenny had just gone through a breakup as well. We hit it off right away. We ate Chinese medicinal soup, bubble tea and pork's blood pudding on a stick. It was a nice first night--it was pleasant just to share space with someone in the same situation and wander around a while. 

                                 

I spent the next couple days bumming around, not really leaving the hostel much. I wrote Kyungmin, trying to get some kind of closure, or maybe just to have contact. Because I put her picture in this blog (now removed), she told me I should stop trying to contact her, and that she was going to forget her memories of us together. I wandered along the riverside feeling sorry for my self, wondering what the hell happened to the sweet girl I used to know. I went drinking with a British guy who spoke fluent Chinese named Neil and a Cambodian-American named Ken. We got drink and instead of hitting on girls, we talked about Buddhism. The next day, there was a big typhoon that swept across Taiwan...but left Taipei relatively unmolested. 

Cathy flew in on the night of the typhoon. I stood around waiting for her at a subway stop for an hour before returning to the hostel. I then saw on the news that a plane crash-landed after missing the runway at the Taipei airport. Luckily, though it wasn't Cathy's plane and she showed up at the hostel a few hours later, chipper as ever. We had a couple beers by the river and she was graceful enough to listen to me wail about my situation. Cathy came back to Taipei to teach for another year, and has been busy with training ever since. Even though I would take a 50% pay cut to live in Taiwan, instead of KSA, I have been considering it. A lot of people, like Cathy, love it here, and I think it's for good reason. 

Cathy introduced me to her friend Aiden (also an ESL teacher) who speaks fluent Mandarin Chinese and has lived in Taipei for eight years. Aiden is seriously considering leaving--his leaving status has downgraded from definitely leaving, in the past couple of days, due to meeting a girl. Aiden, despite being a Aussie, is a really good guy. He let Cathy and I crash at his place for a few days, and we had a lot of fun. Here's a list of things we did:

- Had a rooftop cook-out. 

- Went to a party in Daan Park. 

- Went to a pool party (full of smoking-hot Taiwanese girls in bikinis).

- Went for a bike ride with Aiden's buddy, then swam in the river. 

- Went to the chiropractor, then the masseuse.  

- Went to the gym.

- Went to the bar, then the spa, (with said buddy). 

- Went to the top of Taipei 101. 

Aiden talked about his iron-hard resolve to leave Taiwan. I whined about my situation. I learned some Australian, had a good time and came out of that week significantly less mopey. 

Allow me to break the narrative for a moment to say this: Taipei is a wonderful city that has a unique flavor. Having not spent enough time in China to really get a feel for it, I can't use it as a point of reference. So instead, I think of it as sort of half-way between Thailand and Korea. Like Korea, it's clean (they are big on recycling here), the culture is influenced largely by Chinese and Japanese, and it is firmly capitalistic. On the other hand, like Thailand, it's tropical, the people are super chill, and there are scooters everywhere. It's a good balance. Thailand can at times seem too chaotic, and Korea can definitely feel too uptight. Taiwan has a good balance. 

It was great hanging out with Aiden and getting a taste of what it's like to live like a local, but all good things must come to an end. So, I returned to The Meeting Place in time to hang out with some of the long-term occupants before they continued on in their journeys to The Philippines, Thailand and Australia. Although I didn't expect to be back, I was glad to return. I had a lot of fun staying there on both occasions. Somehow, something interesting to do always happened. 

It would take too long to go into detail about all the things I did, so here's a list of I got up to while staying at the hostel (on both occasions):

-Hiking with Neil from the hostel, followed by hot springs. 

-Hiking with assorted hostelers. 

-Jogging along the river.

-Eating Dim sum ("Hong-Kong food") with Jenny. 

-Hot Springs and dinner with Jenny. 

-Bike riding along the river with Cathy.

-Soccer with hostel members. 

-Assorted massages (sans the "special").

-Exploring the night market near the hostel. 

-Going to the sports center to work out, and go swimming with hostelers. 

-Seeing live cheesy magic acts and live music with a beautiful Taiwanese girl. 

-Exploring Shi Men Di with Cathy.

-Going out on my own to check out Chain Kai Shek memorial and the national museum. 

-Went to a computer/games expo with hostelers. 

-River tracing with Adien and his buddies. 

Perhaps it's redundant to point out that Taipei is a very fun and interesting city with lots to do. It's not redundant, however to point out that the people are super cool and really friendly. Although Taiwanese people are very hardworking, they also manage to be very nice, polite and easy-going. I really don't know much about what it actually teaching English in Taipei is like, but I know that the living in Taipei part is excellent. I came here to try to get over my Korean girlfriend, and my time here has served that purpose very well. I'm sure it has dulled some experiences which otherwise might have been even more fun. To vacation here under normal circumstances must be very satisfying indeed, and I expect living here must be the same.

Rama-dama-ding-dong

For a Westerner, even during "normal months", Saudi Arabia can feel like "The Country of 'No'": no theaters; no alcohol; no drugs; no pork; no revealing clothing; no dating; no public affection; no music; no free speech; no equal rights; no religious freedom; no commerce during prayer time; no green space; and no regard for pedestrians. But in Ramadan, there is an extra no: no eating or drinking from dawn to dusk.

Now, I understand the significance of fasting for the religiously inclined, but I feel like the goals of Saudi-style fasting for Ramadan maybe somewhat at odds with their application...

First, because the fast includes water...with a singular exception. The timing of Ramadan, is based on the lunar calendar, which means it isn't anchored to any particular season. Every year, it begins a couple of days earlier. So, sometimes, it happens in the hottest part of the year, as it very nearly is now. So, we're living in the desert, and most days they temperature is in the mid-forties, and yet, we are not allowed to drink water...unless we are traveling.

This would have made much more sense a two hundred years ago, before there were cars or air conditioning, but considering our modern technologies, it strikes me as a little absurd, especially since there is, to my knowledge, no such provision for laborers. So, If you decide to take an afternoon drive in your air-conditioned car to Jeddah, you're allowed to crack a bottle of your favorite variety of good old moya, but if you have the misfortune to be a foreign worker slaving in the heat, you're S.O.L.

Secondly, if you're justifying your fast from a health perspective, cutting out water defeats the purpose. Health benefits from fasting include lowering cholesterol, and clearing out toxins, but refraining from drinking water does in no way facilitate these processes, rather it reduces their effectiveness.

Thirdly, it's extremely common, especially for young people, to circumvent fasting entirely. To avoid fasting, all you have to do is sleep during the day, and stay up all night. Then, you can eat all you want, and never have to deal with being hungry. From my experience teaching young Saudis, I can tell you with confidence, that this is a common habit for Saudi young men, anyway. So, as long as Muslims are awake for the prayers, they can technically fulfill their religious duties, without really having to fast at all.

For a foreigner, who is not Muslim, and has to work during the day, Ramadan doesn't make much sense, and is one more reason why Saudi Arabia is "The Country of 'No'"... although, to be fair we can still get food during the day at  hotels, which is a pretty nice concession.

The Trimester in Review

Well, the trimester is almost over, and I haven't written much about the job itself, so I'll talk a bit about my work experience this trimester in this entry.

The trimester started off well enough. I had a great schedule: three classroom hours Sunday to Tuesday, and five Wednesday and Thursday. I had one section--all the same trainees, and it was a high-ability section too, which meant I could get some actual learning happening. They were a little rough around the edges, but in general quite good students.

Then, a couple weeks into the semester, on of my colleagues' contract expired and he went back to the United States...so I inherited a some of his students...and they were  terrible--they were loud, had terrible study habits, slept in class, etc. I had to teach them study skills. Yay.

But at the end of the day, I really liked my primary section. I was getting really into teaching them. I was even doing lesson planning at home, to make sure things were super tight, and so I could give the best lesson I could. It took a lot of effort, but I was slowly coaxing them into doing their homework, coming to class on time, and doing all of the classwork. I used every stick and carrot I had at my disposal, and it was working. I was turning the class into something almost respectable. A true feat for vocational students in Saudi Arabia!

Little did I know that some of the students were secretly conspiring to kick me out of the classroom and have me replaced! Perhaps I should have known--they had, after all, massed together to complain about me when I insisted on enforcing the school's lateness policy (more than five minutes late to class earns them an absence). So, it was to my amazement, when somewhat past the middle of the semester, my supervisor called me into his office to tell me that I would be changing sections.

Apparently, some students had secretly banded together and complained about me to whoever would listen--and were very persistent. Meanwhile I had an official classroom observation, which went fairly well, and aside from that, I didn't hear anything from anyone about my classroom performance. 

Imagine my surprise when the management swapped me out with another teacher! Allegedly, it was because I "wasn't teaching them grammar right." I was upset about the whole ordeal--not just because it called my teaching abilities into question, but also, because I really enjoyed teaching that class, and felt betrayed.

I shared my feelings with several of my co-workers, and to my astonishment, THE SAME THING HAD HAPPENED TO MOST OF THEM, at this institute or another. It turned out that this was fairly common practice.

Not having had to live up to any academic standards in their entire lives, it turns out trainees will often band together and do anything they can to indict a teacher they believe is asking too much of them.

So, I had to swap classes with another teacher. The class ended up being quite good, despite being of a lower level...although I had to deal with a couple days of "we got stuck with the shit teacher that got swapped from the other section."

Shortly afterward, on top of it all, I got stuck teaching another study skills class to what very well may have been the worst class in entire school. Trying to teach those guys anything was a lesson in futility...and the curriculum was awful. So, the rest of the semester was for the most part, less than pleasant.

However, I cannot complain now, because the trimester is over, and having no actual work to do, I am writing this entry from work. Yes, it's terrible--all of the marking has been done and now we teachers must bravely stave off boredom for two days, with only the aid of the internet. Luckily it's Ramadan, and we only have to come into work for six hours.

Next week we will do professional development, and then I'm off to Korea for vacation for six weeks. So, if you were wondering why I am wasting my days living in Saudi Arabia, now you know!