The Lofoten Islands

Some of you who follow my blog may know that I work for a UK tour operator to Scandinavia called Taber Holidays. This is especially great because it means I get the chance to explore a part of the world which I would otherwise find too expensive to fully travel around, and of course, I cannot fail to mention the best bit: experiencing Scandinavia’s incredible natural beauty.

A photo of the Northern Lights during Autumn taken by Andy Keen in Finnish Lapland.

So far, I’ve only been to Norway and Iceland, but now that I have finished my degree (whahooo!) I can now work full time, so you can expect to see a lot more blogging  on Scandinavia since I will be heading there more frequently. The purpose of my visits is to expand my knowledge and check out new products that are on offer, this could be anything from hotels, restaurants, to activity providers.  I would never have thought I would get excited about full time employment because I’ve always got travel on the brain, but in this job it enables me to exercise those desires inside a work-related framework.  (If you struggle to keep a job down because you’re too busy planning trips and making your boss angry by asking for another holiday, then I would really recommend trying to find a job in the travel sector).

Some of things I love about Scandinavia include:

• Norway has 5 of the Top 10 highest waterfalls in the world.
• They rank amongst the world’s most eco-friendly countries.
• Iceland’s landscape is bursting with diversity, and is known as the land of ‘fire and ice’.  
• These countries are among the most literate in the world and love to read.
• Norway ranks no.1 on the Human Development Index – this measures life expectancy, education and income. Sweden, Denmark, Iceland and Finland also rank within the Top 25.
• Every 3^rd woman looks like a supermodel (for all the single men reading this).
• Iceland is the only country that has a volcano where the public can walk inside.
• You can see the Northern Lights in Northern Norway, Finland and Sweden (also known as Lapland) as well as Iceland and Greenland. I saw them in the Lofoten Islands at the beginning of this year and can’t wait to see them again.
• In summer you also have the phenomenon of the mid-night sun, I’ve yet to experience this but it’s on my wish-list!
• Scandinavia has some of the world most unique hotels including the Icehotel and the Treehotel, both in Lappish Sweden.
• Norway has one of the longest coastlines in the world, and it’s filled with mountainous peaks, waterfalls and deep fjords.
• Denmark was voted the world’s happiest country in 2012, followed suit by the other Scandinavian countries… now if positivity breeds positivity who wouldn’t want to visit?
•  I’ve never breathed in FRESHER air anywhere else in the world – but Australia does follow closely.

There are loads more reasons that I could add to this list, but I think these photographs will tell you why I LOVE Scandinavia:

The amazing Treehotel in Harads, Sweden. There are five rooms including, The Mirrorcube, The Bird’s Nest, The UFO, The Cabin, and The Blue Cone.

The Icehotel in North Sweden is built every year from ice blocks taken from the Torne River before it melts away and flows back into the river. My manager, Suzel, has stayed there and says, “It’s definitely an experience, but you don’t want to stay for more than one night!”.

The Almighty Gullfoss waterfall in Iceland!

I love Iceland’s unique topography – bursting geysers, bubbling mud pots, crusted surfaces, and plumes of smoke fill its landscape.

Standing in front of Geirangerfjord which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. To me, Norway’s natural beauty is unrivalled.

Have you been to Scandinavia? What do you like best about these countries?

Driving in foreign countries is always daunting, even for the most experienced drivers. For starters, instead of driving on the left-hand side of the car, you’re driving on the right, and to make things even more of a pain, you’re also driving on the opposite side of the road!

Alex and I arrived at the AVIS office, situated just on the outskirts of Reykjavik center, and we were given the keys to a Volkswagen Golf automatic – I would highly recommend renting an automatic if you are at all nervous about manual drive, because let’s face it, they’re much easier.

We requested a Sat Nav for our travels in Iceland, and was offered one featuring a program called myway. Basically, myway acts as a virtual tour guide to three routes in Iceland; The Golden Circle, The Reykjanes Peninsula and The South Shore. As we wanted to head towards The Golden Circle (probably the most popular tourist route in Iceland) we pressed that route and began our journey.

Not a single car in sight!

The tour begins from the Avis office, and takes you along the paths of your chosen routes, telling you interesting historical and geological facts about many of the locations along the way and also a variety of stories. The great thing about myway is that it can easily be turned on or off at any point, which makes visiting areas not shown on your tour really manageable – and then when turned back on it recalculates your route from your current location!

Well, since we had a car we certainly wanted to take advantage of the freedom hiring a car affords by pulling up to admire all the different views along with the way. HOWEVER, remember when you were young and all the children’s books you’d read warned you to ‘never stray away from the path’ – like Little Red Riding Hood? Well I never listened, so when we drove past a little side road I told Alex to do a U-turn in the road (the roads were clear before you start tutting )

I thought I had seen a waterfall in the distance, and assumed the side road led to it, but as we drove further the road became narrower until it appeared to be more like a dirt track. Listening to our instincts we decided we should turn around to head back on the main road, but as we moved forward to reverse, our front wheels began to sink into the ground and surprise, surprise – we were stuck!

Oh dear…

Literally, as soon as we realised we were stuck, a young British couple who also had gone in search for the waterfall came past. They stopped and told us that they had reversed back before reaching it because they were worried about becoming stuck but luckily they had a 4-wheel drive to avoid the same fate as Alex and I. They kindly got out of their car and tried to help us push our car forward but it was all to no avail. There was nothing they could do so I thanked them before they drove away.  We needed either the world’s strongest man to walk past or someone with a tow-truck to miraculously pull up next to us.

By now the weather was raining heavily (obviously), and we couldn’t see a way of getting out of the situation by ourselves so we called Avis and told them what had happened. We had only been driving for an hour so we felt like absolute douchbags calling to ask for help already.

They told us they would get someone to help, but it would cost around £250. But there was no way we could afford it so we told them we’d call back.

We decided to wait and see if anyone else would come past for help. So we waited, and waited and not one person came past in nearly two hours (that was the only time I wished Iceland had a bigger population!). We tried everything: from piling stones in front of the back wheels in a vain hope that they would provide some surface grip for when we tried to drive forward for the umpteenth time; to scooping away the mud with my (now deceased) notebook that I used to jot down travel notes. In retrospect, using a flimsy notebook as a spade was a diabolical idea, but desperate times call for even more desperate ideas.

Sulking and waiting for a saviour!

After all our ideas had failed and no other person had been stupid enough to drive down the same path, we called Avis back up and they put us in touch with someone else. We called up the number and the man was very helpful, he said he would be able to find someone who lived close by to where we needed ‘rescuing’ and the cost would be significantly cheaper because they wouldn’t have to drive all the way from Reykjavik.

Soon after, a man came down with his Jeep and pulled out our car with absolutely no struggle and we paid him about £80. Although expensive, it was still much less that out initial quote of £250. Phew.

My Hero!

After that incident, driving in Iceland was magnificent and we had the best time exploring Thingvellir National Park, seeing Strokkur Geyser, Gullfoss and Kerid Crater.

The Golden Circle route

We drove for hours along long, straight roads, and watched the scenery evolve around us. One minute we’d be driving through lava fields as far as your eyes could see, the next minute we’d be surrounded by meadows, watching the cattle graze on the grass, and then the next minute watch the ocean ferociously crash into the cliff edges and spray our car. We drove for hours without seeing a single other car or person, and at times we would pull over at the side of the road to stop in awe at the otherworldly landscape surrounding us, and listen to the sound of nature.

The thrilling south-west peninsula of Iceland.

Everywhere in Iceland is sign posted very well so there’s no need to worry about getting lost (and even if you do, the scenery is just so inspiring that getting lost could be a good idea!). Driving in Iceland really is a fabulous experience and is the best way to truly explore this beautiful country. Returning back to the UK roads, I can safely say that I miss driving in Iceland!

So what did I learn about driving in Iceland?

-Do hire a 4-wheel drive

-Don’t hire a front wheel drive

-Do stop off to appreciate all the beautiful views

-Don’t drive down questionable side roads when it’s raining

-Do try and get rope to put in your boot in case you get stuck somewhere

-Don’t ever think that a notepad can be used as a spade. As the saying goes ‘call a spade a spade’!

-Do ask for a cheaper quote and try and find someone locally – the cost will be significantly cheaper.

If you avoid my mistakes then there is no doubt about it – you’ll have an unbelievable time driving in Iceland!

Have you driven in Iceland? Or would you like to?

Admit it, the word ‘penis’ caught your attention.

With large modern windows and its name crisply printed across the building, you could easily mistake Iceland’s Phallological Museum for being an office building from the outside. It’s certainly a formal appearance for a place containing the world’s largest collection of Penises. Furthermore, it’s surprisingly small in size. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in variety. The collection currently holds over 280 different penises, testicles and artefacts.

The Penis Iron – an ideal present to give a feminist!

Toothpick anyone?

As you pay the 1000 Icelandic Kroner (approx. £5) entrance fee, you are given a booklet detailing what genitalia belongs to which species (so by the end of your visit you, of course, feel like quite the penis connoisseur).

It may be a penis museum, but it’s not a place that can be compared to a dingily-lit sex museum in the back alley of Europe. It’s surprising how fresh and light everything appears. Glass boxes and perfectly polished glass jars are lined neatly on shelves and cabinets. It’s the kind of display you’d expect to see well preserved relics from history inside, not well preserved penises in formaldehyde. But that’s exactly why I loved this museum – it’s a complete deviation from everything you expect a museum to contain – yet this place still feels like a museum, but a very, very cheeky one! Every time I turn my head I’m greeted with penises big and small, short and fat. Some are curly and some are shrivelled; some hang down from the walls and some are in photographic form. I can’t help giggle as though I’m a mischievous 10 year old school girl peering into the boy’s locker room after PE.

I’ll give you a clue… It’s not an elephant’s trunk…

It’s a tight squeeze, but the Sei Whale penis just about manages to fit in.

This curly number belongs to a boar!

The founder of the museum, Sigurdur Hjartarson, was in fact a headmaster when he began his ‘hobby’ of penis preserving. It started in 1974 after he told a group of friends that he owned a bull’s penis as a child, to use as a cattle whip. His friends loved his childhood story so much that they bought him a few more, then after that, more ‘donations’ were given, becoming more varied and adventurous. Then in 1997 when he had 62 penises to his name, he opened up the museum. This is a fabulous story, partly because this would never happen in England. Can you imagine the headline? – ‘Headmaster opens Penis Museum’ – the boring brigade would have a field day boycotting this place, and taking away his license to work with children. But luckily, Icelanders are equipped with a heavy dose of humour and overall the museum is considered a bit of a national treasure.

Check out this April Fool’s! ‘Erected by his pupils on April 1st 2009′

Despite all the different types of penises inside the museum, the one which is most familiar to us – the human penis – is yet to be displayed. But on the walls are several letters of willing donors, who wish to bequeath their manhood to the museum, so I guess it’s just a matter of who pops their clogs first! The term bittersweet comes to mind…

One of the closest things you get to a human penis is the collection of silver penises cast from the Icelandic handball team, who won the silver medal in the 2008 Beijing Olympics (glad to see the colour is in keeping).

Finally, as I make my way around the room, I browse through the small shop where you can buy genitalia related novelties, one of these is a lamp shade made from bull scrotum, and as disgusting as it sounds, it’s really quite beautiful to look at. I’m disappointed I don’t have the money to buy one, but laugh as I read they’re made by the founder and walk out with a huge smile on my face. ‘I’ve just seen the largest collection of penises in the world’ I mutter to myself.

So which was my favourite?

I gave my best pose, but I was always going to be upstaged by the penis of a sperm whale!

Would you like to visit the Icelandic Phallological Museum in Reykjavik? Or are there, erm, too many pricks in one room?

In a climate where more people are competing for the same jobs, and more people have degrees than ever, how can you make yourself stand out when you don’t have a degree?

At 21 I had dropped out of university twice. The only thing I seemed to be good at was giving -up. To rub salt in the wound, I watched my twin brother graduate at 20, and congratulated my friends doing the same and landing ‘proper’ jobs. While I was happy that many of my friends were becoming successful, I began to feel alienated from my own directionless life.

It wasn’t so much the matter that I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life (I still don’t), but I was beginning to feel I was stuck in a rut. Nothing was really happening with my life, and then it dawned on me that I was doing absolutely nothing meaningful. I worked in a retail shop, programmed to fold clothes neatly and convince women to squander their money on overpriced clothes.  It was an environment which I had grown to hate, and I was selling my soul for a bit of lousy commission. I had to get out of England.

I scoured the internet for jobs in other countries, but my mediocre school grades and a half-attempted degree didn’t quite cut the mustard. I looked for alternative ways to enhance my CV like doing Journalism interns for magazines in China, Africa or India but all the programmes were obscenely expensive so I reluctantly gave up searching.

There was no way around it, I had to get paid for whatever I was doing so I began looking for opportunities to teach English abroad, but again, they all asked for a degree.

I had nearly lost hope until I had the idea (well I think it was my dad’s ingenious idea) to email a few schools in China directly.  By cutting out the middle man (i.e the websites which advertise teaching abroad) I was one step closer.

The Reply

It only took a few days to receive a reply from Aston Language Centre, and I was thrilled to read that they would welcome me on board, however, because I didn’t have a degree my pay would be lower than a graduates – I didn’t care about that – I was just grinning from ear to ear to know I had a get out of England card!

Why you should contact a school directly

• If you go through a 3^rd party organisation most of them request a charge for organising your documents and finding you a school. Essentially, you are giving them money for a job which you could do yourself.
• If you don’t have certain requirements such as a degree or Tefl certificate, the school might be more lenient after you have expressed a certain aptitude for what they’re looking for. I’m a strong believer that experience and personality take you a lot further than a degree.
• The only place I wasn’t able to teach English was inside a university, but I could teach in colleges, primary schools and night classes etc. Even without a degree you have a lot more choices than you think you have.

Finally

I didn’t write this post to say it doesn’t matter if you don’t have a degree to teach English abroad, because that would be inaccurate. It’s far easier for someone who has a degree, and those people can expect better wages too. I have written this for those who felt like I did a few years ago. You don’t need bags of certificates to tell you that you’re qualified for something (granted it can help). Instead you need balls and thick skin.

This post also isn’t just about teaching English in China without a degree. It’s about taking chances, and thinking outside of the box. So many people say they love to travel, but can’t because they don’t have the money. But there are ways around this, and teaching English is just one of them. Here are other travel bloggers out there showing you how:

• Ashley from Ashley Abroad is an American living in Paris as a Nanny and making the most of European travel.
• Arielle from  Little Mermaid at Sea is also a nanny but she lives on a yacht moving from one port to another (I love how in sync her name, blog and job are!)
• Julika from Sateless Suitcase made sure she got the most out of her studies by taking a semester in a another country.

There are so many ways to see the world beyond saving thousands of pounds. You’ll have to sacrifice some luxuries but who cares when the reward is a life worth living. And many of these ways enhance your CV. Even now, as I’m one month away from finally graduating in a degree in English Literature, I’m convinced the best thing on my CV will still be teaching English in China.

 After I left behind my friends, family and comfortable possessions in England to head for China, I really feel that fate truly favours the bold.

Iceland is well known for its geothermal energy, and currently holds the title for being the world’s most eco-friendly country – even to the extent that geothermal water is used to heat around 90% of Iceland’s homes, AND keeps main pedestrian streets snow-free in the winter (!!!!). Needless to say, the Blue Lagoon in Grindavík, on the Reykjanes Peninsula, southwestern Iceland, is just one of many attractions in Iceland that take advantage of the country’s geothermal goodness. The pool itself is the bio-product of a geothermal power plant, (sorry if that shatters any illusion of a magical, natural Lagoon!). But after a few hours in there, you’ll definitely feel magical, and because the waters are rich in minerals like silica and sulphur, your skin will feel softer than the softest baby’s bottom!

Once arriving at the Blue Lagoon, you weave your way through the lava fields (the whole of Iceland pretty much looks like a huge lava field (a geologist’s dream!)) to the entrance, where you receive your wristbands providing you with access to your lockers. This is the time when you’ll see a sight full of naked bodies – boobs , bums, tums – nobody cares, no matter the size. Well… although I say nobody cares, it didn’t stop me dashing to the few available cubicles that have doors! Otherwise, you’ll have to undress in an open area, but nobody seems to be bothered about it – after all, we do all have the same bits and bobs, right?!

The changing rooms are impeccable. And your locker opens electronically when you swipe it with your blue wristband

Once entering the milky blue water, you’ll soon come to realise that there are hotspots scattered everywhere, and frequently hear “Ooohs” and “Aaahs” an words such as ‘oooh, I’ve found one, I’m staying put!’ – and with an average water temperature of between 37-40°C, you are sure to stay warm and toasty whatever the weather!

Scoop down amongst the rocks or use the wooden boxes provided to gather a natural silica mud mask and apply it to your face and body. If you already thought Iceland felt like another planet, just wait until you see a mass of stark white-coloured faces slowly emerging from heavy clouds of steam! Surreal would be an understatement…

Just look at all the Silica and sulphur in the Blue Lagoon. Get scooping and applying!

As well as the waters, there are other facilities within the Blue Lagoon such as a massage waterfall, saunas and steam rooms. Combine them all, and your skin will never have felt so good! Two and a half weeks after, and I’m convinced I can still tell the difference!

I mean, who doesn’t fancy sipping a cold beer or glass of wine whilst bathing in a haze of steaming blue waters, surrounded by mountains coloured in hues of every green, whilst watching the sun set overhead? (I’ve suddenly grown jealous of everyone who’s soaking in the Blue Lagoon as I type).

When finally leaving the Blue Lagoon, with skin like a dried prune make sure to shower and use plenty of the complimentary conditioner provided for your hair, which by now I’m sure you will have realised feels like it is coated with a year’s supply of salt, and resembles Albert Einstein!

Points to consider

Try and plan: The Blue Lagoon is only a 10 minute drive away from the Airport so it’s a great place to either start or end your trip. I ended my holiday there whilst staying in the Northern Light Inn, I highly recommend staying there, because not only is it a nice quality hotel, but it’s only a 10 minute walk away from the Blue Lagoon and is plonked in the middle of lava fields (who doesn’t want to see that when they look out of their room window?!)

Save money: You have to pay for using towels and dressing gowns, so if you want to save a little money then bring your own towel!

Brittle hair: Nobody wants their hair to feel like a bundle of straw, so either apply masses of conditioner (there’s lots of free conditioner there), or don’t put your head under the water.

Avoid the crowds: The Blue Lagoon is Iceland’s biggest tourist attraction so it can get really busy. It’s opened 10am-8pm from Sept to May and 9am-9pm from June to August so arrive there in the morning, or late afternoon. I went at around 5pm and it wasn’t too busy, plus I was able to float back, and watch the sunset. Belissimo!

Are you thinking about going to the Blue Lagoon?

 

I was surprised to learn Reykjavik is the world’s northernmost capital city, but this interesting fact was only the first of a long list of surprises I would discover during my trip to Reykjavik.

Reykjavik is only a small city, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in character and colour. You can travel everywhere by foot, and within minutes you’ll start to notice it’s a city that takes pride on skirting away from the norm. You won’t find the same generic shops, restaurants and bars that most major cities have bought into; instead every corner invites you to learn more about Icelandic culture, whether it’s one of the many restaurants offering fresh (and just about affordable) lobster soup, or one of the many shops stacked head-to-toe with books and vinyl records. In fact, this is the first capital city I’ve been to that doesn’t have a McDonalds! However, this hasn’t always been the case, as the world famous logo had landed here previously, but after the economy crashed in 2008 the fast food outlet packed up, and to be honest, I say good riddance!

Just one of many bright coloured shops in Reykjavik.

I’m not a person who goes crazy for shopping, but Reykjavik has some excruciatingly nice boutiques, which not only have stylish clothes, but flawless shop interiors. There’s something about the simplicity, lightness and minimalism of Scandinavian design that I find so appealing. Whilst I’m talking about Scandinavia some people might be reading this and thinking, ‘but Iceland isn’t a Scandinavian country’, and whilst this is true it’s often labelled part of Scandinavia because it used to be under Danish rule and so shares a large cultural and political likeness with these countries.

Harpa Concert Hall is not to be missed. You can freely walk around and enjoy the views of the harbour from the glass panels which light floods through. It’s synonymous with the spacious and modern style of Scandic design.

In a bid to conserve money, most of my time was spent walking around the streets of this lively city. If I could only describe Reykjavik in one word, it would be ‘quirky’ (just to confirm the thousands of people who’ve said that before me), because architecturally speaking, it’s far from beautiful or intricate yet its surprising colourfulness brings the city alive. In fact, most buildings look like more like garages. This is mainly due to the island’s lack of natural raw building materials such as wood and stone, so most buildings are made from concrete and corrugated steel. But this city doesn’t let it’s lack of raw materials affect its visual appeal… Now, new sculptures are cropping up around the city, vast areas of street art sprawl over buildings, and old gentlemen fashioning huge handlebar moustaches have become one of the city’s quirky fixtures.

If you go to the top of Hallgrímskirkja Church, you’ll get awesome panoramic views of city. From a birds-eye perspective it makes the city like look a monopoly board because the buildings create a row of bright red, blue, yellow and green cubes. This toy like appearance isn’t so apparent when walking around the city so I would definitely urge heading up to the church tower for approx. £5.

Hallgrímskirkja Church dominates the very low-rising cityscape of Reykjavik

Stained glass window inside Hallgrímskirkja

Panoramic view of Reykjavik from the church tower.

Even the roof tops in Reykjavik are colourful!

In some ways, Reykjavik reminded me of Lodz in Poland, because it’s impossible not to notice the creative vibe that filters through both cities. Streets art is not merely tolerated in these cities but they are embraced. It’s difficult not to walk down a street without seeing something brightly coloured to catch your eye, and in this sense the art doesn’t feel subversive and disrespectful: it feels free and liberated, and creatively thought over.

Attack of the birds! Alfred Hitchcock comes to mind when looking at this, and let’s not forget Daphne du Maurier!

“Despise rules & see through fools” . This mantra gave me a good chuckle.

Check out this skate ramp!

Now look closely at this picture:

Would you be surprised if I told you the door on the right wasn’t real? Well ladies and gents, the door on the right is actually a painting! I wouldn’t have given it a second look if it wasn’t for the cat. I spotted the cat, and thought it was strange how it didn’t react to the people walking past, and then when I noticed it wasn’t moving, that’s when the penny dropped! Don’t you think it’s virtually impossible to tell that this door and cat is actually just one very cleverly disguised painting?!

Hope you enjoyed this insight into Reykjavik’s colourful streets – just one of the many reasons why so many people describe this city as quirky.

If you like dead things in jars, then I know the perfect place….

Ever since I was a child I’ve had a fascination with dead things. I remember going to the supermarket with my dad every Sunday for the weekly food shop and I would get a secret thrill looking at all the fish on their bed of crushed ice, and when no-one was looking I’d reach out and touch their cold, jelly-like eyes. It was like I was half expecting to see them come alive in response to a human touch.

I also remember the times when I’d go to the beach with my family on school holidays and spend the afternoon hunting for jellyfish washed up on the shore. I was warned to stay away from them because they would sting, but I devised my own logic that they couldn’t possibly sting if they were dead (the folly of youth!) so I dared myself to touch it. To my surprise it didn’t sting me, so feeling confident that I had dispelled a new myth about jellyfish I decided I would pick it up and proudly show my new found courage off to my parents. But the very moment my fingers touched the underneath of the jellyfish I let out a scream of pain, and ran over to my parents hoping they would relinquish the burning sensation from my 7-year old fingers. But I found little sympathy from my parents, who instead, replied with the words every person hates to hear – “I told you so”. Needless to say, I learnt my lesson, and there have been no more cases of jelly-fish poking.  But I still have a great curiosity for dead things in all shapes and sizes.

Fast forward many years, and all these memories of running around looking for matters belonging to the underworld, and discovering all kinds of creatures came back to me when I visited London’s GrantMuseum of Zoology. My favourite museum in London.

Cabinets are filled with curiosities.

Specimens inside test tubes and jars fill the Grant Museum of Zoology.

Inside the Micrarium

The museum was founded by Prof Robert Edmond Grant, who was one of the two people who introduced evolution to Charles Darwin. In fact, it is the first place in an English university where evolution was taught.

As you enter the unassuming doors, you enter a world full of creatures you never knew existed – 67 000 to be precise. The museum also contains many rare and endangered species, including extinct animals, from the dodo to the Tasmanian Tiger.

Can you see the uncanny resemblance to humans?

Found in Eastern Europe, male Midwife Toads carry their eggs around their legs to protect them from predators.

It’s a science trip as well as a trip into the unknown recesses of Mother Nature. Cabinets fill with jars containing creatures in formaldehyde (for you and me, that’s another word for something being pickled!), many of which have been preserved for over 100 years. You’ll see baby pigs and moles crammed inside big glass jars; hundreds of different types of amphibians; and animal skeleton heads. It’s the type of museum that will leave you gasping with excitement and disgust instead of yawning with boredom.

Is it wrong to think these pickled pig embryos look cute?

Who knew anacondas had such, well… big bones? Am I the only person who believed snakes slithered around in a spineless state of being?

The Grant museum is only a small museum, no bigger than one room, but it’s packed with a dark world of creepy crawlies, slithering centipedes, and gross looking foetuses. This is a museum which will fright, excite and truly unlock the wonderful diversity of life! I just dare you to enter.

Now here’s some gruesome trivia for you:

No, no. no!

The damage after child birth!! Now the prospect of having a child doesn’t seem so horrendous after I compare myself to this poor toad!!

And just in case you can’t envisage the birth, then please watch this National Geographic video:

All I can say, is that I’m glad I’m not female Surinam Toad!
 
Would you like to go to the Grant Museum of Zoology?

I step inside a mile-long meandering gorge, in a place completely unlike anywhere else I have been before. I carry on walking until the rose coloured rock carving known to the world as the Treasury starts to famously appear. Then I stop and stare.

It’s funny that Petra has become synonymous with the Treasury, yet I haven’t written about it until now. In contrast, my first article about Petra – named one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, was all about hiking to the Monastery via the back entrance. But there is no denying that entering Petra through its well-known route is an experience not to be missed.

Sometimes when I begin to write about a travel experience, my memory doesn’t have the panache to bring the finer details alive. But the memory I have of walking from the Siq to the Treasury must be carved deeply into my grey matter, as there is no struggle to remember the chalky pathway, how I felt as sunlight broke between the narrow gorge, and the sound of chariots bolting past and breaking up the oblivion I had of other people. I was completely lost in my own little world, taking everything in one step at a time.

The mile-long pathway to the Treasury winds its way through a gorge called the Siq. At times the gorge is deceptively narrow and can reach up to 180 metres high which creates a setting fit for any adventure film. In fact, it was the setting for an action film – Indiana Jones!  Staring up at the colossal rocks, I felt like I have been dropped inside the bottom of an earthquake, and I’m staring up at the space directly where the land has separated into two parts. And this feeling is no exaggeration, or actually far from the truth after I learn the Siq was formed as tectonic movement pulled the rocks apart, and over the years water had rubbed the surfaces smooth into curves of yellow, orange and pink rock.

I passed only a few people during the mile long walk, and the quietness was broken up by the odd chariot thumping past and a friendly Bedouin here and there asking if I wanted a ride to the Treasury. But why would I? Why would anyone want to ride a chariot, when you can let the anticipation build up by walking as slowly as possible – and just think of all the photo opportunities you’d miss!

It’s not long before the vision you’ve been waiting for falls upon you, and the exquisite façade of the Treasury dominates your eyeline.  You’ll find this is the focal point for visitors, lines of camels, and Bedouins flitting between different languages as they communicate with international crowds. And now is the perfect time to soak up their knowledge of Petra – I guarantee you’ll be surprised at how willing Bedouins are at sharing tales of their homeland with you. 

And just in case you haven’t seen enough pictures…

Here’s one more photo of the Treasury!

The Botanist’s Unfinished Plan

In a forest away from public scrutiny,
hides the daughter of a revered Botanist
who in the later part of life created his ideal embodiment
of Mother Nature.

In her follicles
four hundred thousand seeds of ivy lie.
Her hair grows and grows, and vines
through the forest as days go by.
Summer is easy and carefree but
in the winter there needs a prompt
so every morning she calls out-
”Sunlight! Sunlight! Bow down your might!”
To which the colour of chlorophyll spreads delight.

She tried life in society,
thought of growing up against a family home wall.
Camouflaging herself with the other Hedera hibernica.
Disappearing in that sort of half-life kind of way.
But seeing the people and how they lived
the lack of stillness, the lack of beauty,
the excess of noise, the speed of cars, the pollution it all caused - 
She knew she couldn’t last.
So without delay, and to feed the Botanist’s plight
she returned to the wild, where it felt right.

[Painting:  The Woman and the Roses by Marc Chagall (1929)]

I’ve never been interested in beach holidays. It’s never long before the sun makes me irritated and I start to yearn for the excitement a city brings.

Because of this, I had never really had a truly relaxing holiday. I’ve always been too interested in searching for all the sights and sounds that city life has to offer, even if it means rushing around like a headless chicken trying to cram everything in. However, this changed in the summer of 2010, when I had my first relaxing holiday and hopefully it won’t be my last. Albeit not a beach holiday, but you get the gist.

It all happened when my friends, Elsa and Freya, who are both cousins, invited my brother and I to their auntie’s house in the west of France and we jumped at the chance. They mumbled something about the place being nice, but didn’t stress much about it because the whole idea of the holiday was just to bring us together since we all live in different areas of England.

Elsa and Freya

Even though the holiday wasn’t mine as such, as we were invited, I still got out a map and planned things for us all to do when we arrived. My plans took us away from their aunt’s house for several days, in fact, pretty much all of my planning ensured that we were hardly there at all, because I was determined to explore as  much of France as possible, given the week we were there for. Even if this meant staying somewhere new each night, instead of utilising the free accommodation; I didn’t care as long as we saw as much as we could.

However, when we arrived, all my plans were thrown out of the window, because the location and house we arrived at completely exceeded all expectations. It wasn’t a house; it was a beautiful château taken straight from a postcard.

However, this didn’t mean I had turned 180 degrees, and didn’t want to go anywhere different; as I still did, but I was equally content to do what everyone else wanted to do, and what everyone else wanted to do was laze about and enjoy the things that were on our doorstep (literally). And who was I to argue against three other people?

Throughout the whole holiday we barely left the grounds of the house because the place was practically self-sufficient – everything we wanted we had, including food which could be picked straight from the garden. I was so impressed with their life-style, ahhh wouldn’t a nice patch of land to grow my own fruit and veg be nice? [begins to wistfully dream].

Our days consisted of reading under the summer shade, sunbathing on the jetty, making sushi, swimming in the lake, playing with costumes and dressing-up, drawing, and playing hide and seek. Being in such a beautiful and laid back place really made us all get lost in our imagination, and I really didn’t miss being in a city at all. It couldn’t have been any more relaxing, hmmm well, apart from if we had a masseur on hand (now I’m starting to get greedy!).

Elsa’s always wanted a big bum, and after copious amounts of cheese and drinking enough red wine to water a small garden in France it suddenly appeared!

And I’ve always wanted to be a man. Seriously.

Freya adopted the role of Greek Goddess and took us into her wild vineyards, where we found Bacchus and all drank together.

To be honest I’m not sure what or who Ki is supposed to be…. a cross-dressing Frida Kahlo? Anyone?

And when I wasn’t flashing off my moustache, I was scaring away any unwelcomed visitors with this little number. (Have you noticed how abnormally short my arms look?!)

If someone had told me beforehand that I would barely leave the house I was staying at, I would have ran the other way. But thankfully I went along, and it taught me the enjoyment of relaxing on holiday (it’s seems really obvious to say that holidays are meant for relaxing, but I often forget that!). I still need to learn that getting to know a country doesn’t mean trying to see and do everything, instead just getting to know a small region can often tell me much more about a country. From this trip, I learnt that the French really know how to relax!

This year, I may grab one of the many books I’ve been telling myself to read and give a beach holiday another go…  as I’d love to see my yellow skin turn a shade of brown!

Can you happily lie down on a beach for days, or do you get itchy feet too? (metaphorically speaking!)

No other city in Southeast Asia has intrigued me as much as Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam’s largest city also known as Saigon.

During my recent trip to this southern Vietnamese metropolis, I was overwhelmed by the warmth of the people and the energetic buzz of their “chaotic” lives. So here is my quick guide on how to enjoy 48 hours in Ho Chi Minh City:

Day 1

Start your morning by visiting the Reunification Palace, the city’s number one tourist attraction. Located on Nguyen Du in District 3, this 1970s building is historically important as it symbolises the end of the Vietnam War in 1975. Spend about an hour or two here before heading to CIAO Cafe on Nguyen Hue for a strong cup of Vietnamese coffee and to grab a quick lunch.

After that, head  out to the Central Post Office located on Cong Xa Paris. The building, which looks like a decorative train station, is the perfect place to send a postcard home – and is certainly no ordinary post office!

Right outside the post office is the Notre Dame Cathedral in its full glorious colonial French architecture. Snap a picture or two before going to Dong Khoi.

Dong Khoi is the main street in the city centre, and tucked away in a hidden corner is a cafe called L’Usine, which is a popular French-inspired establishment frequented by the young hipster crowd. You’ll see friends catching up over coffee and plenty of local designer clothes for sale, too.

When night falls, hang around Dong Khoi to catch a water puppet show at the Opera House if cultural shows are your cup of tea. Else, head to the rooftop bar at Carevelle Hotel, which has 360-degree views of Saigon, and you’ll see how the city is so very much designed like Paris.

Day 2

Make a beeline in the early morning to Ben Thanh Market, the best place in Ho Chi Minh City to get souvenirs – popular gifts which include lacquered wood paintings and beaded slippers. Remember to bargain for your ware, as you’re never expected to pay the asking price. The market also has a food and drinks section, so eat a local lunch to your heart’s content before heading out again.

Ben Thanh Market. Photo Credit – William

Round the corner from Ben Thanh Market is the Sri Mariamman Temple along Truong Dinh. Who would’ve thought that Ho Chi Minh City was so culturally diverse! After that, go for a wash and dry at a hair salon along Le Thanh Ton. One of the best things to do in Vietnam is to get a haircut, as they provide a lengthy massage of the head, neck and arms.

Head back to the hotel for a rest before taking the taxi out to have dinner at Cuc Gach on 10 Dang Tat in District 1. This popular restaurant serves home-made Vietnamese food from mum’s recipe, and was recently made famous by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie who ate here during their visit.

After dinner, end the night with some live music at Acoustic Bar on Ngo Thoi Nhiem in District 3. This was the highlight of my trip as the local live music scene is so good in Ho Chi Minh Citiy, and I highly recommend that you do not miss this place when you’re in town!

Have you been to Ho Chi Minh City?

Can you add anything else to this list?

About Author: Wan Phing is the online editor at AsiaRooms.com. Born in Penang, Malaysia, she currently resides in Singapore and loves meeting new people and discovering new trends. In her dreams, she jetsets around the world like a celebrity wife, but in reality, she flies budget without check-in.

Want to stay connected with Wan Phing? Then you can find more of her travelling tips on Asia Rooms’s blog, or say hello to her over at Twitter!

They say a holiday can make or break a relationship, so make things easy by choosing Venice!

This city essentially does all the hard work for you, and you’d be hard pressed to want to break-up with someone after a trip to Venice. For centuries, its landscape has sent poets, artists and composers into raptures, and from every corner, literature, art and music seeps from the walls. It’s virtually impossible not to get swept up in the romance of the city’s all engulfing beauty; in fact, being somewhere like Venice is a sure way to solidify any blossoming relationship. After dating a couple of months, it was the first place that my boyfriend, Alex, and I went together, and well, we’re still together so it didn’t have any adverse effects!

For some, a holiday can be the first time you really spend a great deal of time together, and new things which you had never noticed about each other become noticeable. It’s as though you’ve been held up against the glare of the sun, for all the finer details to be magnified. These flaws are usually responded to in two ways: 1. You end up liking that person even more for these so-called imperfections, or 2. You can’t believe you didn’t noticed them sooner, if you had, you definitely wouldn’t be here!

So needless to say, there’s a lot of pressure riding on your first holiday!

During our first holiday, Alex was introduced to my allergies.

After a perfect first day of exploring Venice by foot, we decided to head back to the hotel to freshen up before going back out for something to eat. I decided to have a shower, and used some of the shower gel provided by the hotel. However, about twenty-minutes after being in the shower, my nose started to tingle, and before I knew it my nose had swollen up and outwards. I must have been allergic to the shower gel. The embarrassment I felt heightened the throbbing sensation on my nose, and then my eyes started to feel itchy. Soon enough my nose had taken over my face and my eyes were like two curled up baby mice – all pink and unable to open.

“The vision of perfection” said Alex, bringing some light relief to the situation.

Well needless to say our first night in Venice wasn’t a resounding success. Our plans of a romantic meal were thrown out of the window, and replaced by a rather inedible takeaway meal. Luckily, after taking over the advised amount of anti-histamines, I awoke to find my face was back to normal, and no more time in Venice was spent hiding indoors – even when the heaven’s opened….

The only flaw I really noticed about Alex on our first trip together, was his complete and utter inability to read maps. He could hold it upside down and it would make the least bit of difference. And what would he say my flaw was? Probably that I like reading maps too much, he’s always huffing and puffing every time I stop to look at the map, like I’m standing in the way of chance or spontaneity.

So, with my map in hand, here are some of the things we got up to in Venice:

The Guggenheim

The Leonardo Da Vinci Museum

If you’re not sure what to expect, this museum concentrates less on his art, and more on Da Vinci’s scientific discoveries. Loads of his ideas have been reconstructed into life-size models to give you an idea of his visions – one of these include a flying machine! If you’re after his art, then you may be disappointed, but if you’re into his inventions then I recommend you waste no more time loitering outside!

Eat, Eat, Eat (Drink, Drink, Drink)

I fell in love with all the cicchetti bars dotted around the city, inside these places you can buy a glass of house wine for only €1, and these wines are complimented wonderfully with a selection of Venetian style tapas.  If you’re into Romantic Poets, then why not head over to Caffe Florian inside the Piazza? It’s so old that Lord Bryon himself drank there!

Roam around the side streets

If you roam around, and get lost in the maze of Venice, you’re sure to stumble across little quirks of art, and small student spaces.

And the rest….

Where was your first holiday together?

 

When I tell people I come from Bradford, most of them screw up their faces like they’ve just smelt something rotten. The funny thing is that some of these people have never stepped foot inside Bradford. Instead they are responding to a stereotypical image created by others that more often than not, is negative.

It’s so easy to comment upon the ugly parts of the city when there doesn’t appear to be much effort to cover them up. I’d like to say that Bradford is pretty and it’s the type of place that anyone would love, but it’s not. Many of the buildings are dilapidated, worn out, black, grey and ugly; they could be replaced by a row of grave stones and it wouldn’t make the least bit of difference. And then there are the people who dwell within Bradford – their sour faces mimicking the facades of its buildings. I try to be euphemistic by saying their faces can be read like a map. Every wrinkle and blemish has a story to tell, and a hard one at that!

Bradford is a story of riches to rags, because during the nineteenth-century it prospered from a booming textile industry, at the time it was one of the most important in the world, supplying people across the continents. And to coincide with this new circulation of money, a demand for establishments to house entertainment grew, so the city invested time and money building highly decorative buildings to fulfil such functions. Many of these buildings are still around today, but most of them are coated with thick industrial soot and left empty to deteriorate along with Bradford’s reputation. However, there is one building, more than any other that symbolises the former glory of Bradford existing today – that building is Cartwright Hall – a beautiful Baroque art museum that no person who enters Bradford should leave without visiting.

Encased around a pretty park, and tall decorative gates, it’s hard to believe that Bradford has Cartwright Hall, and that Cartwright Hall is in Bradford. It’s as though you’ve stepped back in time and you’ve walked inside a place described in one of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s children’s books. But don’t hold that thought for too long, because as soon as you step out of the gates, you’re crashed back down to reality, as the first row of houses to your left are ALL boarded up and derelict. But strangely enough I like this, it makes Cartwright Hall appear ever more the ‘rose between thorns’.

As far as art museums go, this is one of the best in Yorkshire and probably in the whole of North England. Granted that art is subjective, and your experience of a museum is largely dependent on the exhibitions, but Cartwright Hall has a diverse range of exhibitions, as well as permanent, to ensure that there is something for everyone during any time of the year. It’s not intimidating, you won’t overhear any pretentious conversations, the invigilators will smile, and you’ll see a lot of familiar names, and some surprisingly big ones – David Hockney (of course), Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Bridgette Riley, Anish Kapoor, and Dante Rossetti to name just a few. Am I making you want to go? I hope so, because it deserves far more attention than it gets at present.

David Hockney’s ‘Le Plongeur’ (Paper Pool) 1978

This screenprint by Roy Lichtenstein is entitled ‘Peace Through Chemistry’ (1970) – How many faces can you spot among these geometric shapes?

Entitled ‘Study for the head of the dead Beatrice’ (1871) by Dante Rossetti who was responsible for the Pre-Raphaelites. This is a pastel of Jane who was the wife of William Morris. If you’ve not heard of Dante Rossetti but feel that his name has an uncanny resemblance to something you have heard before, it may be because you are familiar with his sister, the writer, Christina Rossetti. During a time when art and literature was dominated by men, Christina managed to carve out her own career.

Anish Kapoor’s sculpture ‘Turning the World Inside Out’ was funded by Cartwright Hall in 1997, it is often on loan to other galleries, but will be in Bradford until June 2013. You can also see a painting by Kapoor on the top floor of the museum.

I don’t think there’s any need to introduce the artist or subject for this one!

In a city which is often scoffed at for its working-class roots and lack of finesse, there is a painting inside Cartwright which beckons a special mention, and this painting is Industrial Landscape (1952) by L. S. Lowry whose work will shortly be exhibited in the Tate Britain in London. In an article recently published in the Guardian, TJ Clark, one of the world’s pre-eminent scholars of French Impressionism, who curated the exhibition had this to say about Lowry:

 An artist who is taken for granted and condescended to. The reaction from London art world friends over the last year and a half, when I have said I am working on Lowry, has been of deadpan incomprehension and disappointment

There has, said Clark, been a “metropolitan resistance to taking the north seriously as a subject for art”, and added: “It is extraordinary to me, this image of him as an amateur, as someone who could barely paint, won’t die. To me it is absolutely astonishing. And coded into this conversation by the metropolitan elite is the idea that someone who paints this subject matter can’t be taken seriously.”

By highlighting the elitism held against L. S Lowry’s work, due to his decision to prolifically paint the industrial landscape of Northern England; it highlights the discriminations that Bradford receives as a city for being working-class. But an interesting fact to remember about Lowry is that he currently holds the record for the most rejected British honours during his life, including a knighthood. So I can’t help but wonder: if he had accepted the knighthood, would the opinion of his “amateur stick-men” turn into “hard-working, victorious souls”?

After all no one dares to insult a ‘Sir’.

You may not be able to find the glamorous shops, bars or restaurants in Bradford that you can find in other cities, but what you will find is a plethora of culturally significant museums that will leave a far greater impression. For more information please check out Bradford Museums & Galleries.

I don’t blame you if you never got round to reading T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, but I would be horrified if you couldn’t manage to read this poem in one sitting:

 And the days are not full enough

  And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass…

                                       - Ezra Pound

Is that ‘lovely’ I hear you say?  And the days are not full enough by Ezra Pound is easily one of my favourite poems. It resonates with me equally for its simplicity as it does for its universal appeal. I think everyone can in some way relate to the arbitrary nature of life, and how we’re supposed to utilise our time in this funny, old world. I often dream about all the things I want to do, and lay awake thinking I’ve not even scratched the surface of my seemingly eternal list, and fear that I’m falling into the trap of becoming a ‘field mouse/ Not shaking the grass’.

But maybe fear isn’t all bad? as it has the charm to actualise desires better than most emotions; it makes me work towards having the kind of life that I want to have. One that involves travel, as I believe (for me, and I’m sure for many) that travel provides some of life’s greatest experiences. Here, there, and everywhere, is where I want to be: not in the desert of Whatshoudhavebeenandregret nor on the steppes of Wishandillbehappywhen, but rolling comfortably along the different contours of the world. And even if finances can’t secure off-shore travel (which is likely), then exploring what’s on my doorstep can be just as meaningful – as Marcel Proust testifies – ‘The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes’.

This poem has a lot to convey in a single stanza and clarifies to me that I really do need to shake a little harder to see the cause and effect of the things I do. Everyone relates to the feeling of life passing them by, and fears that their days can be spent more fruitfully, and many of us question whether we are leaving our mark in the world, or are we living as Ezra Pound describes “like a field mouse/ Not shaking the grass”?. Drawing reference to a mouse and nature also illustrates how transient life is, and therefore provides the impetus for change, before “life slips by”.

The line “And the days are not full enough” can easily provoke the most optimistic person to gaze introspectively at their life with doubt. The poem works on a literal level – pointing out the limits of time, but it also works figuratively as “full enough” can represent how we utilise the time we have, and by using the repetition of “not full enough” Pound seems to emphasis that we do not use life to its full potential.

To read And the days are not full enough with the attention it deserves is to ask yourself “Are my days full enough?”.

 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…

Ok what’s Charles Dicken’s got to do with teaching English in China? Nothing much, it’s just one of my favourite opening paragraphs to a novel and I wanted to share it with you. No, I’m only kidding, I think Dicken’s opening paragraph to A Tale of Two Cities can be analogous to my time teaching English in China – it was full of contrasts – full of love and hate, and laughter and frustrations. And it’s not just analogous to my experience of teaching English in China, but also China itself: it is a country with parallel worlds.

Why I decided to teach English in China

I was 21, and like so many young people, I didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do with my life (I still don’t really know). All I knew was that I wasn’t ready to have a 9 till 5 job and I wanted to travel. However, I couldn’t afford to travel without a source of income so I figured teaching English in China would enable me to experience living life in a foreign country, enhance my CV, and take myself completely out of my comfort zone. To be honest, the idea of teaching English in China didn’t really attract me; it was just a vehicle to get out of England. At the time, I had no friends who had taught English abroad so I didn’t really know what to expect, I however, didn’t have much time to plan or really think twice about my decision, because once I had made my mind up,  and got my Visa, I was out of England within a few  weeks.

Why China?

My mother is Irish and my father is Chinese, but I had never been to China because when Japan invaded China in the 1940s my father’s family escaped to Malaysia where they still continue to live. And despite seeing my relatives in Malaysia on several occasions, I couldn’t shake away the affinity I seemed to harbour for China. In a way I yearned to go because I felt through discovering China, I was discovering a part of myself.

How I found teaching

Surprisingly, I didn’t find teaching too overwhelming. Don’t get me wrong, there were times when my stomach would unleash a whole whirlpool of butterflies before a class, but adrenaline took away most of  the nerves. The most rewarding moments arrived when I had gotten to know my students and it became much more natural and comfortable to conduct a class, and  when I began seeing progress in their writing, hearing and speech too. However, this doesn’t mean things were always plain sailing…

The Politics of teaching English in China

There are three things we don’t want you to talk about. You must not talk about Chairman Mao, you must not talk about sex, and you must not talk about Tiananmen Square.

Those were the words of the headmaster before I began teaching a class of fifty that consisted of 18-20- year olds at an engineering college. I nodded in agreement whilst a voice of oppression silently screamed at the back of my head. Had I just walked into an Orwellian classroom?

It’s easy to say I broke my pledge, but most of the time it was completely by accident… There was the time I once tried teaching the concept of a ‘miracle’ but my pupils kept giving examples like ‘The great wall of China’, and ‘The Olympics’, and whilst they are fine examples of extraordinary engineering, they were still not the answers I was looking for. In the end, I sprouted out the words ‘Virgin Mary’ and was greeted with a class of blank expressions so I figured I needed to expand further (this is where I should have stopped). I continued by asking if they knew what ‘virgin’ meant, but they didn’t know. So clearly forgetting the words of their headmaster, I now felt obligated to enlighten them on the ways of the world, but as soon as they heard the word ‘sex’ all hell broke loose; the girls started shrieking as though the sheer utterance of the word had the power to contaminate their minds and bodies. A teaching highlight I must say.

Tiananmen Square was a difficult topic to avoid because I was teaching in 2009, during the 20^th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre. As a result, all social networking sites, or any sites that perpetuated the sharing of ideas became banned, this included Youtube, Facebook, Twitter, and then there were all the websites that were banned on Google. Even now, you can’t type phrases like ‘Tiananmen Square’ or ‘Tank Man’ into Google in China because those pages as well any others that are affiliated with the historical atrocity are hidden behind a great firewall.

However….

It was a big eye opener to live for 6 months in a country that so blatantly denied truth to its people. At least in England, our government tries to be discreet about brainwashing us.

Despite feeling frustrated about having to censor what I believe to be important truths in society and history, I still consider teaching English in China to be the single most important period of my life. It picked me up when I felt down and uncertain about what I wanted to do in life, and although I’m still uncertain about what I want to do, it’s a different kind of uncertainty. Before China, I was uncertain because I felt I didn’t have any options, but now uncertainty has risen from seeing too many options. The experience not only made me feel more connected to my Chinese heritage, it made me confident in other areas of my life, because surely if you can go to a new country, on the other side of the world by yourself and finish what you set out to do, it makes your next challenge a little more easy to take on. For those who have ever thought about teaching English in a foreign country, just do it.

Have you taught English abroad? Or would you like to?