Life :)

Language teaching - Life :)

Trying to shtring something together

September 13, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

I meant to post this on Sunday but the internet on this laptop slowed to a trickle. It’s back to its world-famous-in-Romania lightning pace now, which is just as well because without decent internet I struggle to do my job properly. My internet woes sent me into a mad panic yesterday so I tried to relax a bit by heading to the pool (the temperature was in the low 30s). Going to the pool, or the ștrand as they call it here, is quite a popular pastime. It’s not as if we have a beach here. It’s a bit hard to say ștrand. At the start of the word you have to shtring together a bunch of consonants à la John Key with his “shtrong and stable”, but with a Romanian-style rolled R thrown in for good measure. Ștrudel and albaștri (the masculine plural form of “blue”) likewise require tongue gymnastics for me. For 17 lei you get to lie on a sun lounger and listen to slightly annoying music. I positioned myself as far from the speakers as I could get. The pool is great though. I met two English women there, probably in their fifties. One of them introduced herself as Marilyn but her friend called her Mazz.

FaceTime. Presumably it’s called that because the person on the other end can see your face all the time. That can be a bugger, especially when that person is my mum. She likes to comment on the chubbiness of my face. For some reason that’s where the weight goes, and I probably did put on a pound or two last week from all the plum crumble I ate. The previous weekend I picked about eight kilos of plums, from a tree-lined street not too far from Mehala market.

Today I had my 30th lesson with Matei. He made a couple of inspired guesses in the Millionaire game before getting greedy and bombing out on the half-million-pound question. Then he thrashed me 5-0 in Last Card. Yesterday was the start of his new year at school. His school is number 24. When he lived in Bucharest, he went to number 56. I imagine this fantastically creative naming scheme harks back to the communist era, when they wouldn’t have wanted anybody to stand out. There still would have been a number 1 though.

Two pieces of brother-related news. One, he got whisked off to the Caribbean at two hours’ notice to help with the fallout from Hurricane Irma. I’m guessing it’s the British Virgin Islands. Second, his wedding has been set for 26th May at the Royal Citadel in Plymouth. That’s a pretty awesome location for a wedding if you ask me, not that I’m the best person to ask. It should be relatively inexpensive too. If he’d married the last one I dread to think what it would have cost. She’d have wanted all the bells, whistles and gongs, that’s for sure.

Last week I received the sad news that Out of Sync, a Wellington-based group where adults on the autistic spectrum meet up once a fortnight, is coming to an end. Although I’ve never had a diagnosis, I went to the group from 2011 until the end of 2015. When I first went it was bloody great: eight or so slightly unusual folks pinging wildly from one conversation topic to the next, like a demented pinball machine. After a distinctly uncomfortable Monday at work, I could relax for a couple of hours. Then the numbers grew, new facilitators took over, and before long it had changed beyond all recognition. It had become a sort of workshop, with rules and pre-arranged topics. The higher-functioning members of the group got sick of being treated like kids, and a lot of them quit. But it still gave autistic people the chance (often the only chance) to meet others in a relatively safe environment, so it served a purpose. Next Monday will be the last session. The email I received cited general dissatisfaction with the group, the fact that they would need to move yet again, and the big one, reduced funding. That New Zealand, second in the OECD in X and third in Y, can’t afford to run a group like that is all kinds of wrong.

Life :)

Birocrație

September 10, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

It’s a bit of a frustrating day: outside it’s wet; inside I’ve had no running water since I got up this morning. I’ve had to use one of the water fountains in town. Like most people here, I normally use the fountains anyway to collect drinking water.

Talking of frustration, back in June (or perhaps earlier) I managed to lose my registration certificate. That’s the crappy-looking A5 sheet of paper, no thicker than a sheet of newspaper, that officially allows me to stay in the country. My best guess is that I left it at the doctor’s surgery when I saw the ENT specialist and had to present and fill in a bewildering amount of paperwork on three different floors. Until last week I survived perfectly well without the piece of paper, relying on my passport, but having an actual employer changed things. (I still don’t know when I actually start the new job.)

On Tuesday morning I went to the immigration office, quite a grim place with yellowing, peeling sheets of paper stuck to the walls. It seemed I could get a replacement certificate without much hassle, but I’d need to get one or two things photocopied and come back the next day because the office would soon be closing (it’s only open from 9 till 10, and you have to queue). Day two: I got there well before 9am with my photocopies and was almost at the front of the queue. Great. But no, apparently I also needed to make a declaration that I’d lost my original certificate. How and where would I do that? Take Ionescu, the bloke at the office told me. (“Take” here is not the very common English word, but instead the first name of a Mr Ionescu who is now immortalised by having a long street in Timișoara named after him. It’s pronounced “tackay”, more or less. It’s an unusual word because the letter K doesn’t normally feature in Romanian at all.) He told me, in English, that it was “near the judge”. Near the court, I guessed. I knew Take Ionescu had a bunch of official buildings but I drew a complete blank. Back to the office, which thankfully was still open. An actual address, please. This time he told me I needed to go to Piața Unirii and walk down Take Ionescu to get there. OK. I found the notar (notary public) where I had to make two declarations, the first to say that I could read and write enough Romanian to understand the second. Initially I was quoted 95 lei for this, and even though it cost me just 60 in the end, I can’t stand wasting any amount of money.

Day three: back to the office. I was lucky not to have any lessons before 10am all week. I had my photo taken and had to sign something electronically (the only sophistication in the whole office). Day four (yesterday): I got my new piece of paper. Phew. But wait, look at the validity date! 6th September 2022. That’s five years from last Wednesday, not five years from my original communication. Does that mean I could pull this trick over and over, and live in Romania indefinitely? I’ve now photocopied the new piece of paper and filed away the new original in a safe place where I, er, can’t possibly lose it.

A week on Monday I’ll have my first lesson with a girl of just four and a half. She lives in Dumbrăvița, a few minutes’ walk from the nine-year-old boy I teach. It’s a shame I’m unable to schedule back-to-back lessons with them, but kids who still attend kindergarten need their sleep. This teaching thing is certainly presenting me with some challenges, but none that I’m not willing to accept.

Last week the Red Sox won a monumental six-hour, 19-inning game over the Blue Jays. It might just have been the fillip they needed. I’ve been reading a bit more about the 2004 World Series-winning Red Sox, and watching a few YouTube clips. What a motley, unkempt bunch they were! They were fallible, they were human. The Yankees on the other hand were slick, professional, clean-shaven, and that contrast only helped endear the Red Sox to the public. Of course the team from Boston hadn’t won the big prize for absolutely ages and were trying to clamber out of an almost impossibly deep hole in the series; it all made for a great story.

Language teaching - Life :) - Romania

Amazingly normal

September 2, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

Yes, I’ve got the job at the language school and I’m trying to sort the contract out now. I’m not exactly au fait with Romanian legalese and all the various acts and declarations and what have you. Assuming everything does get signed off, I still don’t know when I’ll start, what I’ll be doing precisely, or indeed whether I’ll be any good at it. What I do know is how much I’ll get paid, and it isn’t a lot. It’s marginally less than I get from my private one-on-one lessons. But taking the job should have all kinds of long-term benefits, so I’m excited to have the opportunity. I’d have to go back to 2004 for the last time I felt excited at being offered a job, and in that case the excitement wore off inside 24 hours. As for the job with the council, I wasn’t excited so much as relieved to be getting an increased salary and, more importantly, turning my back on the insurance industry.

Now that August is behind us, the one-on-one lessons are picking up again, or in yesterday’s case, two-on-one. I had my first lesson with a young couple, aged just 20 and 21. It wasn’t easy because he was at a much higher level than her and had far more confidence. She has highly ambitious plans to be near-fluent by next summer, so I’ll have my work cut out.

I’ve lived in Romania for almost a year, and now it all feels incredibly normal. I have no desire to go back home, wherever home even is. New Zealand is a great country but what would I do if I went back there? After going through the motions for so long, here in Romania I feel relaxed, comfortable in my own skin, alive! Slowly but surely I’m going somewhere I actually want to be. It’s bloody amazing really. I’m proud of myself for having the courage to completely change my life, but I’m also very lucky. Most people just aren’t in a position to do what I’ve done.

This morning it looked like the big Badea Cârțan market had disappeared. Oh no! But not to worry; it had just moved to Piața Traian for three months while Badea Cârțan is being renovated. The markets are great at this time of year, with stalls practically overflowing with bell peppers, eggplant, and tomatoes weighing up to a kilo each. There were also plenty of homegrown apples, some that wouldn’t have made the cut when I was a kid (I used to sell apples from our trees). As always there were lots of cheeses, but so far they’ve been a bit disappointing. Here you can buy many varieties of cow, sheep and goat cheeses but they look and taste surprisingly similar. Finally this week I chanced upon a sheep cheese that had a much richer, farmier flavour.

New Zealand’s latest suicide figures came out early this week. They are ugly reading, and to make matters worse, nobody quite knows why New Zealand has such a high suicide rate. It’s probably a combination of reasons. But one thing’s for sure: the cutbacks to mental health services that the country has seen under the present government have been inexcusable.

Life :) - Travel: Romania

Engagements

August 30, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

Some news hot of the press: my brother has got engaged. I know that last weekend he took his girlfriend up for a ride in the plane he subsequently jumped out of, so perhaps he proposed then. I’m happy for him, well both of them, although I was happy for them even before this news. Now that I live much closer to the UK, I might even go to his wedding. Imagine having to fly half-way around the world just for that. I’m only joking – he’s the only sibling I have, so of course I’d have travelled from New Zealand for it – but it does amaze me just how many people travel vast distances for weddings of relatives and so-called friends that they’re hardly ever in touch with. Perhaps the obligation they feel is extremely strong, or who knows, maybe they’re just crazy and actually enjoy weddings. On that note, I half-expected my cousin (the one I stayed with in America two years ago this very day) to invite me to his wedding which took place in northern Italy last year, but I’m very glad he didn’t.

The interview wasn’t too bad. On odd occasions she asked me to speak English, probably because I wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. In fact she did about 80% of the talking. After the interview I had to do an online multiple-choice English test, and I got 60 out of 60 in a third of the allotted time. There were errors in two of the questions that rendered all four of the possible answers incorrect, but I figured out which of the incorrect answers they wanted. Onwards to the second interview I had this morning. The initial instructions as to what this would entail were far from clear, and it’s just as well I asked the interviewer to clarify, otherwise I’d have got the wrong end of the stick entirely. My task was to give a half-hour one-on-one lesson on Skype on the subject of job interviews (!), imagining that it was my first meeting with the student. The time constraint upped the level of difficulty for me; I had a real hard time fitting everything in. But I gave it my best shot and that’s all I could do. She gave me some honest (and helpful) feedback and I probably scored about a 7 out of 10. Whether that will be enough, it’s hard to say. Working in my favour is the fact that their Timișoara office currently has no native English speakers at all. They all flock to Bucharest.

Thanks to my latest bunch of flyers I’ve picked up two more private students, taking my total to nine, assuming they both show up. Let’s hope so. I’ve got lessons scheduled with both of them on Thursday.

Towards the end of my train journey to Alba Iulia I got talking to a woman in her late twenties who wondered what was wrong with me to have got to my stage in the game without a wife or kids. (I notice that the last sentence includes six consecutive words beginning with W. Could that be the basis for some English exercise?) She described me as rușinos, which at the time I thought meant “ashamed” (from the word rușine, meaning “shame”), but actually means timid or bashful. My lodgings (“hotel” isn’t the right word) were pretty basic. Alba Iulia was a tale of two cities: the seven-pointed star fortress and buildings within it which were kept in pristine condition, and the city centre which (apart from the churches) had been wrecked by ugly Communist-era buildings and was overflowing with litter. I’ve just been reading about star forts and why they were constructed like that. Pretty clever really, but the cost of building such defenses must have been colossal. I didn’t do an awful lot on my second day in Alba Iulia; the heat slowed me down. I got back home at about 12:30am.

I saw some economic figures on the news tonight. The average Romanian spends 28% of his or her income on food, compared to 11% for the EU as a whole. Only one in three Romanians buys new clothes as opposed to second-hand ones. (The second-hand clothes shops here are pretty good. I’d never dream of buying anything new here.) So private English lessons are certainly a luxury item.

Life :) - Other sports - Romania - Tennis

Mehala

August 22, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

We hit 36 degrees on Saturday, but it’s felt just the slightest bit autumnal the last two days thanks to a welcome drop in temperature and a fresh breeze. Yesterday I went to a market in the west of the city called Mehala. That “meh” combination, which is also found in Mehedinți (the name of one of the counties I visited with my parents) has an Arabic feel to it. “Meh” is, of course, now a word in its own right, thanks (probably) to The Simpsons. It can be both an interjection and an adjective. Mehala has a large car market but also a section where bikes, tools, second-hand clothes and other odds and ends are sold. One of my students told me about the market, turning the word Mehala into an English verb meaning to swindle: “I got Mehala’d.” With that in mind, I didn’t buy anything, not even from the very aggressive teenager trying to sell me sunglasses. It started to spit with rain, so it was all hands on deck for the stallholders. That green three-wheeled truck was incredible – I’d never seen anything like it. The market is also a popular spot for blokes to have a beer or two, although most places in Romania fall into that category. There was mici sizzling away on huge barbecues, and I even had some mici, though to be frank I find it pretty meh. I learnt that the local bike gang isn’t called the Red Devils, but the even more demonic Red Evils. The picture of the Trabant is from Baia Mare.

By my count, I put 483 flyers in people’s letterboxes yesterday, and walked about 13 km. I got another thousand flyers printed off today and visited a new language school; the bloke there was impressed with my Romanian or was just being polite, I couldn’t quite tell. I doubt they’ll have any work for me.

Simona Halep was taken apart by Garbiñe Muguruza in the final in Cincinnati last night; this was yet another missed chance for Halep to become world number one. She has an unfortunate habit of playing within herself in big matches. While that was going on (and long after it had finished) I watched the Red Sox beat the Yankees on a live stream. For some reason I’ve got back into baseball again. There are so many nuances to the game I don’t yet understand, but watching the Red Sox might help there: they’re unusually patient with the bat by 2017 standards, happy to work the count (I hope my terminology is right) rather than relying on the big hit. Unfortunately Romania is in a terrible time zone for watching baseball.

I spoke to Mum on FaceTime this morning. It was good to see her looking brighter. She wanted to read something out to me that she’d unearthed on the internet, and for a few heart-stopping moments I thought it might have been this site. Instead it was from the “court” section of a local UK newspaper: my brother’s ex-fiancée had been convicted of assault and tagged for four months. Mum likes to semi-cyberstalk her instead of just consigning her to history.

This morning I called Bazza for his 62nd birthday. I knew he’d appreciate that. He seemed fine.

Language teaching - Life :) - Politics

I get all the news I need on the weather report

July 30, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

Last week I taught for 16 hours, a new record! The more work I get, the better I feel. It really is that simple. I did have to navigate some fairly heavy seas on Monday night when my new student (yes, she turned up!) wasn’t at the level I’d anticipated. Our conversation was slow going. Time slowed to a crawl. Will she even want to come back? But she did, on both Wednesday and Friday, and will return again on Monday. She’s a student, just 21 or thereabouts, and like so many young women here, she’s very attractive. She was born and bred in Moldova, where the levels of corruption (as she described them) make Romania sound like, well, New Zealand.

This move has been nothing short of life-changing for me. I now have a purpose, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. My work is extremely satisfying, and in between lessons, I can relax in this beautiful city. I’m longer in this vicious cycle of doing things I don’t want to do so I can do more things I don’t want to do, year in, year out. Yeah, I’d still like a few more hours and the extra money that would bring; I’m having to be pretty frugal. I’d like to meet more people, do cultural stuff like go to the theatre, and of course travel. But Romania wasn’t built in a day. Completely overhauling my life will take time.

I try to avoid most political news now. It feels like it’s been wall-to-wall politics for the last three years, and I can’t be the only one who’s had enough. Still, the failure of the Republicans’ zombie-like healthcare repeal bill did put a smile on my face. As for the weather, last Monday night we had an electrical storm which gave us respite from the scorching weather for the rest of the week, but when I look at the seven-day forecast I see a high of 34, another of 36, a quartet of 37s, and even a 38. The title of this post, by the way, is from Simon and Garfunkel’s brilliant The Only Living Boy in New York. I remember one time that song came on the radio as I was about to go through Mt Victoria Tunnel in Wellington on the way home, but I went the long way instead to avoid missing the song.

I spoke to my brother earlier today. It was his 36th birthday on Thursday. He seemed happy for me.

Language teaching - Life :)

Eat your whites (and wear them too!)

July 15, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

I’m not sure what to make of Wimbledon these days. The latter stages of the tournament have turned into something of a celeb-wank-fest (sorry for the inelegant turn of phrase), and things only get wankier when a certain Mr Federer happens to be on Centre Court. Then you’ve got the virtually-all-white rule which used to be sensible but is now taken to the nth degree. As a kid I owned a replica of Stefan Edberg’s Wimbledon-winning shirt, which had his SE initials and an inoffensive splash of colour on the front. It’s just about the only official-ish sporting item I’ve ever owned. It certainly wouldn’t pass muster at Wimbledon now. Shoes with coloured soles have been outlawed in this edition of the tournament, and most ridiculously of all, a boys’ doubles team were forced to change out of their black undies which supposedly showed through their white shorts. The greatest tennis tournament of all is in danger of disappearing up its own arse.

The tennis wasn’t bad today though, even if Federer won rather annoyingly in three close sets. Berdych fought very well. The other match between Cilic and Querrey grabbed my attention a little more; it wasn’t as serve-dominated as I’d feared. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s finale to the women’s tournament. Venus Williams, who is just two months younger than me, played at a ridiculously high level in her semi with Jo Konta, including that game-changing second serve to the body at 4-4 and break point down in the first set. If (and it’s a big if) she can scale those heights against Muguruza tomorrow, she’ll surely win.

I spoke to my parents this morning. I’d just had my second lesson with my new student and was on the bike when the phone rang. They seemed fine. Their friends from St Ives (who are also my friends I guess – I saw them when I was there in April) might be popping over to see me. I’d be very happy if that happened. I was on my way to the market which at the height of summer is just fantastic. The great big ugly tomatoes, the watermelons, all the stonefruit… and so many mysteriously white (or off-white) vegetables. Green beans aren’t green, they’re pale yellow. So are peppers. So are courgettes. White onions are commonplace, as are white eggplants. Perhaps all these vegetables are in fact whitish or yellowish in their most natural state, but in the First World they’re bred to be bright traffic-light colours because people wouldn’t buy them otherwise. There are scores of fruit and vege stalls at the market I went to today, but also butchers, bakers, people selling all kinds of cheeses and salamis, and people who sharpen knives and scissors. In the middle of the market is a kiosk with various items on shelves in the window. For maximum confusion, mouthwash, car de-icer (which you certainly don’t need right now) and vodka are all on the same shelf in similar-looking bottles. You can also buy kebabby things and there are several vending machines, one of which sells eggs. Off to the side is a café that makes nice coffee, but when I went there at 9:30 on Monday morning, most people were drinking either whisky or beer.

I gave a mock job interview in this morning’s lesson. My student coped better with it than I did. In fact, considering English isn’t her first language, I was seriously impressed with her performance.

Life :) - Other sports - Tennis

Win, lose … or draw

July 10, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

Last month a team which, for marketing purposes, has “New Zealand” in its name, won some weird hybrid sailing–cycling event in Bermuda (!), part of which is called the Louis Vuitton (!) Cup. Undoubtedly millions of Kiwis took the marketing bait and got right into it, unable to take their eyes off every tack and gybe and pedal, even though very few of them could spell or pronounce Louis Vuitton.

Yesterday the Lions tour concluded. I didn’t watch that either but it seemed altogether more wholesome than the Battle of the Bermuda Triangle. Nobody deserved to lose and nobody did lose. How fantastic is that? I find it a little odd that so many people can’t accept draws in sport. In a timed sport, a draw is always a possibility, and I don’t see the problem with that. Why is it so vital to crown a winner by any means possible? Of course there are exceptions: in a knockout competition somebody has to be knocked out, and some sports are structured so that a draw is impossible, such as…

Ah yes, tennis. Isn’t it great to be watching Wimbledon again in the daytime and in summer? And filling in a drawsheet with all the winners and losers and (partial) scores. The men’s draw has been intriguing, the women’s fascinating, and while the commentary on Eurosport has been lightweight at best and simply awful at worst, it’s been great to see all these new players in action.

Dad had an exhibition last week; he’s had shows at that gallery since the mid-eighties, only the gallery is no longer in St Ives but somewhere out in the wops. He sold three paintings (out of thirty) on the night and has sold a fourth since then. I remember when there’d be three paintings unsold on the night. It ain’t like the old days. Dad was lucky to be born when he was. Without the opportunity to pursue his passion, I dread to think what might have become of him.

For me, work is frustratingly sporadic right now. In the height of summer, people’s minds are elsewhere.

Life :) - Romania - Tennis

They’re coming to stay

June 10, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

I’ve just spoken to Dad – he FaceTimed me from the library in St Ives. They’re due to arrive in Timișoara at 11pm tonight. I’ll get the bus out to the airport and meet them there. We’ll probably stick around the city until Wednesday and then hire a car. Nothing is planned but I think we’ll go south of here to Herculane and Orșova by the Danube, on the border with Serbia. I’m really looking forward to seeing both my parents and a slice of Romania.

Now that it’s well and truly summer, the city is buzzing. Yesterday the sights and sounds and smells of Piața Badea Cârțan – a large market – were almost too much to take in. I hope my parents enjoy it. Maybe we could even go to the theatre, or something similar that requires money that I don’t have but Mum and Dad do.

Simona Halep has – somehow – reached the final of the French Open. Obviously that’s quite a big deal here. She was almost dead and buried in her quarter-final with Svitolina where she made an improbable comeback from 3-6, 1-5, and saved a match point in the tie-break without even knowing it was match point. She didn’t exactly have it all her own way in her semi-final either, but she was the more consistent player. Ostapenko, who hits the ball as hard as the men or so I’ve heard, will be no pushover. I’d quite like to see the final but my TV has packed in (it’s always something). Hopefully I can find a bar that’s showing it.

Update:
Simona didn’t win, and she’ll probably never get a better chance. She led 6-4, 3-0, with a point for 4-0, but the scoreboard was the only place she was dominating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone play such a high-power, high-risk game as her opponent did today. Ostapenko finished the vast majority of points, either with a winner or an unforced error. Perhaps Simona needed to mix things up a bit as Hingis might have done; I really don’t know.

Language teaching - Life :) - Romania

Tenc iu veri maci

June 5, 2017 plutomanby 0 Comments

Thursday was Children’s Day. That’s actually a thing in Romania, and this year the government decided it’s enough of a thing to make it an official public holiday for the first time. Personally I think anything that encourages parents to spend more time with their kids is great, although I was dismayed to learn that the awful phrase timp de calitate – quality time – exists in Romanian. Religious festivals are also most definitely a thing here, and today is Rusalii which I think translates to Whitsunday or Whitmonday or is it Pentecost? Whatever you call it, it’s another public holiday, so millions of Romanians have bridged the gap between the two for a bumper five-day weekend. Children’s Day was a popular day for my kidless students to have lessons so it was relatively busy for me. In the evening there was a show at the bandstand in the rose garden and a big smoky barbecue outside. I had a scoop of anchovies (hamsii) and some mici.

Mum and Dad should be safely in St Ives now. They had a two-night stopover in Singapore and called me from the airport. They looked worn out. Mum will be 68 next week, Dad turns 67 at the end of the month, and long-distance travel is starting to become both tiring and stressful for them. Mum doesn’t help – she gets very wound up if the smallest thing goes ever so slightly wrong, and of course when you’re travelling long distances, things rarely do go exactly according to plan. Oh no, there I go again, slagging off Mum. In fairness to her, she’s been very supportive of my move to Romania ever since I suggested it, and she’s proud of me for having the balls to actually do it. I’m optimistic that I’ll get on perfectly fine with Mum when they come here in five days’ time.

I’ve now had my first two lessons with Cosmin. They were fine, although next time I must make sure we sit alongside each other rather than opposite. He had some print-outs from a Romanian-based website for learning English which were worse than useless, but unfortunately he seemed to treat them as gospel. They were full of spelling errors (“fourty”), phonetic transcriptions that encourage terrible pronunciation (tenc iu veri maci for “thank you very much”), antiquated greetings like “How do you do?”, and words and phrases (“daughter-in-law”; “degree”) that you simply don’t need to know when you’re just starting out. None of this was his fault of course, and it disappoints me how much crap is out there, peddled by people who don’t know any better (or worse, don’t care), that actively hinder the process of learning English for student and teacher alike.

I’d better go. Next time (later today?) I’ll post some photos.