Saturday, 7 September 2013
I am worried but no one else is.
There has been a fire sending smoke up into the sky all day further up the valley, which is just about visible in this picture. Now as dusk is settling the red flames are distinctly visible. I keep pointing it out to everyone, but they just say it is normal. Last year in Portugal there were flames on all the hills as we drove along, which I also found rather frightening, but there was also a lake to escape to and very clear evidence of planes trying to dowse it. Here there is no sign of any one taking the slightest bit of notice. Given that all the buildings have a lot of wood in them, and that the valley is long and winding and the fire is at the exit I am not sure how they are remaining so calm, but of course they are used to this. So I just hope that it is as safe as they think it is. All these unexpected hazards. I think I will post pony crash out on the basis that at least I will have had some sleep should we suddenly have to escape!
Wagner's blood letting stops the show!
I have to interrupt this blog to both laugh in shock and horror and to commiserate with a friend. There I am feeling a little intrepid, riding up the mountain side, John Wayne, styley, trying not to feel nervous as we got near the edge, when really it was whilst I was working at the ROH that I was in the most danger.
A friend of mine, (and a million other people) was sitting doing his duty, whilst the opera was operating, when thwack a shard of Simon Callow's anvil, flew off and straight into his leg. Luckily the blood pouring from him, matched his blood red ushers uniform and his cries of pain only enhanced Wagner. True stalwart he wanted to stay to the end, but was rushed to A and E and patched up. He should have been at the last night of the Proms tonight, one of his favourites, but will have to watch it from home recuperating instead. So lots of love to the HERO of the ROH.
A friend of mine, (and a million other people) was sitting doing his duty, whilst the opera was operating, when thwack a shard of Simon Callow's anvil, flew off and straight into his leg. Luckily the blood pouring from him, matched his blood red ushers uniform and his cries of pain only enhanced Wagner. True stalwart he wanted to stay to the end, but was rushed to A and E and patched up. He should have been at the last night of the Proms tonight, one of his favourites, but will have to watch it from home recuperating instead. So lots of love to the HERO of the ROH.
Friday, 6 September 2013
Little known facts about apples (assuming that they are true)
I do not have to teach on Fridays so decided to turn up to school a bit later and do some preparatory work at home instead, which I did and on the way back I planned to search for some little gifts to encourage the children and the Mosque. So it was a relatively easy day. One interesting thing is that I am beginning to hear smatterings of English already. One of the little girls who has totally charmed me for instance said bread and she was also doing all the moves to Bob the Builder Big Fish little fish today. So my hope that just hearing English would make a difference seems to be working, unfortunately my head was not around to hear it.
I left about 3 and headed off towards where I had spotted the Mosque. Given it is Friday I thought to see signs of life, it looked quite dilapidated, especially at the back, and most unusually there did not even seem to be water around in which to wash, but I did not go in as I was not sure if it would be appropriate. I mentioned the Mosque at dinner tonight and was told that there was a move financed from the Middle East to build Mosques in every village. We do hear the muezzin call floating across the valley (unlike Senegal where it blasted away tinnily, distorted electronics) which sounds very evocative, but faith here seems personal and relaxed, rather than political. Next door to the Mosque was a bigger shop than I have seen before and here I managed to buy balloons and erasers that I might try and use to congratulate good behaviour. I also bought a drink that I was told was not alcoholic but tasted very like fizzy brandy so yuck.
When I got back I decided to pick up some of the apples in the orchard that have just fallen to the ground. Fruit is really plentiful and apart from scrumping boys no one seems fussed to pick them, so I wanted to see what they were like. It tasted nice but had a texture unlike any I have seen before. So looked up Kyrgyzstan apples online only to find out that this quintessential English fruit actually originates from this region.(I seem to remember that Alma Ata, now Almaty, means something to do with apples, so there may be something in this) I have spoken with the manager here tonight and asked his permission to see if some of the apples can be stored over winter or used in purees as it would be nice to have a little project and if it works show my thanks to the family for all their kindness. He tells me one of the types of apples that they grow it should work with, so we will see. The American websites I have been checking tell me I need something called parchment paper on which to freeze apples. Now I wonder if my little store sells that!
I left about 3 and headed off towards where I had spotted the Mosque. Given it is Friday I thought to see signs of life, it looked quite dilapidated, especially at the back, and most unusually there did not even seem to be water around in which to wash, but I did not go in as I was not sure if it would be appropriate. I mentioned the Mosque at dinner tonight and was told that there was a move financed from the Middle East to build Mosques in every village. We do hear the muezzin call floating across the valley (unlike Senegal where it blasted away tinnily, distorted electronics) which sounds very evocative, but faith here seems personal and relaxed, rather than political. Next door to the Mosque was a bigger shop than I have seen before and here I managed to buy balloons and erasers that I might try and use to congratulate good behaviour. I also bought a drink that I was told was not alcoholic but tasted very like fizzy brandy so yuck.
When I got back I decided to pick up some of the apples in the orchard that have just fallen to the ground. Fruit is really plentiful and apart from scrumping boys no one seems fussed to pick them, so I wanted to see what they were like. It tasted nice but had a texture unlike any I have seen before. So looked up Kyrgyzstan apples online only to find out that this quintessential English fruit actually originates from this region.(I seem to remember that Alma Ata, now Almaty, means something to do with apples, so there may be something in this) I have spoken with the manager here tonight and asked his permission to see if some of the apples can be stored over winter or used in purees as it would be nice to have a little project and if it works show my thanks to the family for all their kindness. He tells me one of the types of apples that they grow it should work with, so we will see. The American websites I have been checking tell me I need something called parchment paper on which to freeze apples. Now I wonder if my little store sells that!
Thursday, 5 September 2013
English books wanted please, especially with CD's.
I forgot to say, if anyone would like to send the school some old but still usable English books with nice clear simple stories that would be great. Even better if they come with a CD. If you are interested please add a comment. Maybe some puzzles too. I cannot refund the costs but you would know that it would be really appreciated here. No heavy books but something light that you can post for little would be brilliant.
Just when I thought I was on Kyrgyz time I just could not sleep last night. It is one of the joys of teaching that it fires the imagination, the only problem is the time of day or should I say night when that happens.
I ate last night with the art teacher at the school, he will come once or twice a week to teach, at first the conversation was rather hesitant, but as he talked about his art and what he hopes to do with the school inspired me. I want to do some art work around Postman Pat or Bob the Builder for example. In Senegal we used to do whole class pictures around a literary text which was great fun. Perhaps when he has bought the art materials that he wants for the school that will happen.
I cannot help feeling that I could be part of something really interesting if I stay here. The artist and his colleagues had work shops in the summer at the school and created the school playground with its natural wood swings and tyres. The children only get five minutes between classes but they love to play with these objects. I cannot imagine what it was like last year maybe just a bit of concrete and wild grass. At the moment we only have classes 0 - 2 but more bits of school are being built so that there will be a biology room, a maths room etc. and dare I hope an English room.
When I first tried getting into teaching it was with the idea of being a primary school teacher, I even had acquired the last place on a course at NLP as it was then called. I had been lucky to get the place because my degree was not a dedicated degree, which was a requirement then for primary teaching. Then suddenly my place vanished. Understandably people with community languages were more important than monolinquists like myself; my last place was given to someone else. And so I came to train as an FE teacher in Media instead. Which was a wonderful thing to do, and gave me a lovely career, but was not the original plan. So when I reduced my teaching hours I did some supply work in local Hertfordshire primary schools knowing that one day I would try and work abroad and that supply work would come in handy on my return. That bit of supply work, plus my experience as a childminder and under fives community worker, helped me get the job in Senegal. I loved working with little ones. They are so funny. I still miss the children I taught there and wonder how they are now. But when I got back to the UK Hertfordshire had changed its policy and I was no longer eligible to work in primary schools with them, which is partly why getting work was so hard, typical I had much more experience but could not capitalise on it. But now I get the chance for such an experience all over again. I sat in the kitchen canteen with the five years olds yesterday. Opposite a poppet, like a cartoon girl, with her big bunches and huge ribbons. We cannot talk with each other, but we can make faces and that is what happened, I winked she blinked, she opened her eyes wide, I did too, etc, etc, and we just laughed. You cannot buy such moments. Let's hope that natural easy communication can transfer to the classroom.
I ate last night with the art teacher at the school, he will come once or twice a week to teach, at first the conversation was rather hesitant, but as he talked about his art and what he hopes to do with the school inspired me. I want to do some art work around Postman Pat or Bob the Builder for example. In Senegal we used to do whole class pictures around a literary text which was great fun. Perhaps when he has bought the art materials that he wants for the school that will happen.
I cannot help feeling that I could be part of something really interesting if I stay here. The artist and his colleagues had work shops in the summer at the school and created the school playground with its natural wood swings and tyres. The children only get five minutes between classes but they love to play with these objects. I cannot imagine what it was like last year maybe just a bit of concrete and wild grass. At the moment we only have classes 0 - 2 but more bits of school are being built so that there will be a biology room, a maths room etc. and dare I hope an English room.
When I first tried getting into teaching it was with the idea of being a primary school teacher, I even had acquired the last place on a course at NLP as it was then called. I had been lucky to get the place because my degree was not a dedicated degree, which was a requirement then for primary teaching. Then suddenly my place vanished. Understandably people with community languages were more important than monolinquists like myself; my last place was given to someone else. And so I came to train as an FE teacher in Media instead. Which was a wonderful thing to do, and gave me a lovely career, but was not the original plan. So when I reduced my teaching hours I did some supply work in local Hertfordshire primary schools knowing that one day I would try and work abroad and that supply work would come in handy on my return. That bit of supply work, plus my experience as a childminder and under fives community worker, helped me get the job in Senegal. I loved working with little ones. They are so funny. I still miss the children I taught there and wonder how they are now. But when I got back to the UK Hertfordshire had changed its policy and I was no longer eligible to work in primary schools with them, which is partly why getting work was so hard, typical I had much more experience but could not capitalise on it. But now I get the chance for such an experience all over again. I sat in the kitchen canteen with the five years olds yesterday. Opposite a poppet, like a cartoon girl, with her big bunches and huge ribbons. We cannot talk with each other, but we can make faces and that is what happened, I winked she blinked, she opened her eyes wide, I did too, etc, etc, and we just laughed. You cannot buy such moments. Let's hope that natural easy communication can transfer to the classroom.
Harvest time.
The weather is definitely changing and the rush is onto get the harvest in. I am guessing this is what it looked like when my mother used to help with such things as a girl.
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