I will imagine all the great things i still have to do, all the exciting places i will visit, and how wonderful i shall one day become. and after havingbelieved in it all enough, i will begin tomorrow afresh and anew, no longer so disgusted with myself; redeemed for having at least hoped for more. So, in the three and a half months i have left, i will; live each day with enough urgency and purpose so that they fly by. I will pray more, write more and treat myself with more respect- i will respect food; be grateful for it, be moreenergetic and once again harness my body into that instrument of good health, which i control- rather then the whirlpool of hormones, instinct and cravings which control me. And i will expect respect from people around me, not just admiration; but respect, so that silly boys wont mistake me as some fickle love interest, i wont be misled or mislead, and in general everyone will be happy. i will be teaching for about ten hours a week, work from around 11- 3, and in the evenings write and pray more. at the weekends i will socialise, busy myself with errands or new places, and go to Church. By the time i come home i will be more self assured, with new direction (that i am about to decide), trimmer, and spirituallycollected. If you notice however, nowhere have i mentioned 'learn russian language'.
i realise its a terrible waste of a good oppurtunity, and am very sure i will immensely regret it- in fact i regret it already. but firstly, my lingustic track record has never been particularly outstanding, and secondly, i just have no desire to learn- other then to say more then "spaseba bowlshoi' to Sveta when i leave. It's just ugly, and my private lessons ended about a month and a half ago.as im not completely stupid, im still picking up a bit; i discovered what 'de-vwai', 'py-dum' and 'che-vo' mean this week; and have become attuned enough to the language that when people speak to me, even if i dont completely understand what they are saying- i have a rough idea; but still, and im sorry for it, i just dont care. perhaps its the terribly ignorant and very lazy attitude of a native english speaker, perhaps its the feebleness of someonewho is used to passing without revision, perhaps it evokes all the humiliation of being at chinese school- in a class full of six year olds that still know more then me , but either way, man i just dont care. i wish i did. i wish language waslike music for me. but its not. on the other hand though, socialising with bi-lingual russians and europeans, listening to Yerba Buena's "Bi-Lingual Girl"; 'two tongues are better then one', has made me realise the neccessity of speaking another language, if you want to travel and meet people from other countries- its just that i dont really want my 'second' language to be russian. what im scared it comes down to, is that i dont want to learn a language i am going to be harassed for speaking. i know its a terrible generalisation, especially when ive met so many wonderful people here, but its just hostile.
of course back home theres racist attacks, and i understand my mother's paranoia a bit more now that ive been here long enough, but at least the Irish are famous for their hospitality. and i have to admit that at home,the jokes about drowned cockle-pickers, chicken fried rice and chinkies are about another people- another class, below my own. perhaps its because i can rest assured and oblivious in the security of my british nationality, but now iunderstand that i should have always taken offence. my friends callling me "Rachow" is one thing, but alienating myself from the Chinese community is another. I failed to acknowledge my own family. and since ive been here the people i have felt the most familiar with all have asian faces; the malaysian chinese, and the koreans. As well as a few african friends.
i'm just not a white girl. and its not that i feel ugly because of it, just lost in the face of a beauty built on the stereotypes you physically cant fulfill; im not delicate, im not blonde. Im good at sport and moving. and the worst thing about it is, i dont even think feebleness is beauty! Despite what hundreds of magazines and Sex And The City is constantly trying to make me believe; i think Beyonce is beautiful, i think Arabic women and that indian girl from Bride and Prejudice, are beautiful. And when you aren't fair skinned and light eyed you experience the same alienation; asian, arabic, black- its the same. my friend Eugene, a medical student who will become a qualified doctor in five months or so, still has to deal with patients who refuse to be treated by him. perhaps slave traders were able to convince themselves that african natives running around naked were beneath them because they werent 'civilised', but Eugene. is. a. doctor! i mean come on! he told me that in the first few years he studied here, he and his friends would carry glass bottles aroundin their bags- so that when someone was attacked they could all rally.
Ok, i think thats enough of my racist rant. I really dont want it to embitter my stay here, there's plenty of great russians i know, wonderful open minded individuals- and really you cant blame a city which has only been open for twentyyears. the vast majority of them dont even have a problem. and maybe im just making excuses for laziness. Even Dostoevsky, the profound mind, was known to display very nationalistic tendencies; he hated being abroad and usually portrayed europeans quite negatively- so perhaps its not even racism, just the fierce mentality of Russia, that doesnt need help from anyone. or to be diluted, by anyone.
so back to 'the plan'. as i was saying, i do think when i go home i should learn another language. Russian would be good as i am more intrigued about places like Georgia and particularly Mongolia, but at the same time Spanish, Italian,Greek?... i dont know, and i dont know because i dont know if 'travelling' still possesses the same hypnotism for me. i want to travel, but now for a different reason. not to see new places, but to be at home, and for a purpose. Luckily LSE (which i have deferred entry for; starting Sep/Oct 09) has a language centre, so as well as improving the ole cantonese there are other options. which brings me to plans for after Russia. I will go home at the end of this month to renew my visa, its all still a bit of an undecided mess so really who knows when or how long for, but i will be back. I wonder how quickly it will take me to get bored. Weeks ago, and particuarly around Christmas, i would have given my leg to be lying in my bed, with nothing to do and noone to be accountable to. playing the simms 2. or dandering aimlessly around the flagship in complete security, because everyone understands me, i understand everyone else, Bangor in general is the safest place on earth, but now- when i think of it. how boring. i want to speak with my friends, because truely noone will ever replace those friends, in fact, they generally just make life bearable- and if one of them was here,how much better it would be... but everyone will be at uni, Hayley will be in New Zealand, and do i really expect them to somehow give me a reason to continue? when really everyone is going through the biggest electric storm ofemotion, disappearing ideals and identities and the general 'o kak' of suddenly having to face that looming question mark- suspended over a cliff edge- of your future. but i guess at least they understand, and we have invested so muchin one another. and maybe more then your average functional healthy young adult (O KAK) i really cant seem to forget my childhood, and my friends, and the boxes of twilights we devoured in the flagship centre after CCF, and the classicalmusic we listened to and cried over in the dark, and how we discovered Sean Paul, and the days we spent in the sand and sea out my back, and the wonderful absolute perfection of it all. and all the promises and vows we made, that nooneseems to want to keep. because its just time to grow up. and because you are always a better person when you are young, and optimistic, and so full of hope. and i was very optimistic. i want to see them, but i know they cant make me better. or even like myself. so maybe for three days i let my world become time i was passing until the airplane lands in Belfast City Air Port, the stewardess says 'thank you for flying with RyanAir' in her coarse Belfast accent, i pop my head out into the damp winter- suddenly warmer then any winter in Ulster has ever been, to inhale the clear pure wet air, to just arrive. But life isnt something that will start in 21 days, and it really isnt something that will suddenly strike me in Bangor. Forwhich Russia is only a suspended existence until i reach home. So its time to make plans that are for the ultimate goal, beyond impressing people around me or at home, but for myself. It's time to make plans that arent about a destination, but about right now. as a wise woman once told me, its not where you are that needs to change, but who you are.
its fun to hope though; and even though these are completly glib superficial hopes; its half past eight and i have nothing else to do. I have already spent hours drawing out a map for the epic novel i will one day write lol, but willnow turn my attention to a more personal, epic voyage. So at the end of April my placement will be finished; i then have two concrete options, and then another very unlikely one. If i have enough money, (which i think i might!) i could take the trans-siberain railway third class (aparently safe and reasonably comfortable- if a bit smelly) with Deborah and one of her relatives to Beijing. Rather then buying one ticket, we would be travelling from city to city-possibly even through Mongolia- on a tour through Russia! Potentially this works out cheaper then a ticket to Hong Kong from London. However, although it would be the experience of a life time i dont know if its very feasible. It wouldprobably take all my savings and any money i will earn teaching. And as i intend to stay in Hong Kong for about two months, every penny will count. And another problem is the general Russianness of it all, in that nothing willbe confirmed until close to the last minute- and even then will all be quite vague. And this trip really isnt something i want to gamble. However, even worse could be giving up on an adventure that could work out, and depending on my mother's really quite unreliable mood; as she isnt sure if she will go or not. Though coming home to pack for warmer climes would be very useful. Either way, after Russia i will go to Hong Kong- just 'how' is debateable. The other really quite impossible option was accepting an invitation to Argentina, to work as an 'au pair'- but i think not. especially as, with the rainbow spectrum of new acquaintances i have acquired, and cheap costs of travel within Asia, i could possibly ferry over to South Korea and fly to Malaysia! Either way, May/June/July- Hong Kong and beyond; woohooo! and then in July/August return to Northern Ireland; tanned, with funky HK clothes and accessories, and tailoured chinese suits (the thought itself makes me sigh), to probably work....... until October when i will leave for London. Perhaps i will be able to do a few CSSMs, although its quite unlikely as i cant apply personally. Perhaps instead i could go back to Border County Camps, and revisit Ballinea or Killeshandra. Or perhaps a road trip to the South. or perhapsi should just get a freaking job, and have my life and direction and general life sucked out of me- by a till or an apron. Or maybe, my mother's uncle really does have a job for me writing letters, and will really be able to pay me a decent wage, and i can just stay in Hong Kong and work! Aha! Eureka! of course, there is unfinished business back home, but how unfinished? when i was always sure 'finished' implies a lack of communication; like when youshut a book or put down the telephone. or generally display an absolute lack of concern very obviously. not that i care either.
and then in September; Philosophy, Logic & Scientific Method. Clubs and flashing lights with my friends; one at the College of Fashion, another at Oxford; what an 'edgy' threesome we'll make. if only one of them were ginger. Perhaps i will finally sell my soul and start drinking coffee and debating politics with handsome young lawyers to be, instead of keeping cheesy cringeworthy diaries and wondering around Russia in a huge jacket, like the bum i really just innately am. I'm scared of London, of how boring it will all prove to be; and how easily therefore i will be converted to the fashionable student life. But maybe in the summers i will get to go to Alaska to work on a fishing boat, or on a Colorado ranch. Or maybe God will call me elsewhere, and i will discover how difficult it is to give away a life that doesnt belong to you anyway.
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