Shakespeare at the Lotus

Last night I went out to the Blue Lotus - our new stain-glassed, coffee oasis in the heart of the city - to do a little grading for Pop Culture and hear "A Beginner's Guide to Shakespeare." It was written by a Scandanavian professor and preformed by a bunch of college students in Dutch. But someone behind me was translating it to his friend in the national language. And afterwards people were talking about it in the local language.

Best of all, even as I was reading about the evils of McDonald's and how ipods make forget cultural traditions, I was able to follow most of it.

I love cultural diversity.

Things I thankfully don't have

Rather than being thankful for what I have, I've been spending some time realizing that there are plenty of things that I am glad I don't have. It's odd but I am not the least bit deprived for not having:

Central anything

Hot water heater

Clothes dryer

Surround-sound or Hi-definition

Glass on our upstairs windows (only screens)

Microwave oven

Hard to pronounce tropical disease

Snow shovel

Carpet

Lawn Mower

Blackberry or iphone

I have too much stuff already. My bookshelves are full. I own DVDs I haven't watched. My television set is on too often.

Skipping Thanksgiving

I know that the title sounds ungreatful and maybe even unAmerican and it is certainly a bit misleading but this year we will not be having a big Thanksgiving meal at our house. It just seems silly and more than a little wasteful (waist-full?) to make the turkey and fixings when it will just be the three of us on a pretty regular school day.

I guess what makes it easier is that we really already had our Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. We got together with some American teachers who live up the mountain and ate turkey (which Amanda prepared, cooked and transported the hour and a half trip) and all the fixings. We talked and laughed and caught up. We put on silly hats and danced to "Elvira" (a tradition in our host's family). We skipped the games this year due to the drive home but other than that, it was a typical, albeit early, Thanksgiving.

So this Thursday we'll give thanks and talk about being greatful with @. We will likely eat more than we need to - there's never too little food at our house, no matter what the meal - and we'll hopefully be with family on the internet. So it'll still be a good day. (Even if there isn't football on television.)

The one sick parent rule

Amanda and I have an unofficial rule that only one of us is allowed to be sick at a time. Until recently, this is a rule that have been totally in favor of since I, the unhealthier, normally get sick first followed by Amanda's much shorter illness. But now, there are allergies to contend with.

Since moving down the mountain, Amanda has done a great job getting the family to eat better, more nutritional meals. Sure, we indulge some with the occasional bucket of chicken or visit to Neighborhood on the Water (great lemon chicken) but normally this is offset by chickpea and pumpkin soup or Indian vegetables and rice. The end result has been that I may not be in peak physical form - I don't bike or walk to work unlike in Africa - but I do get sick less often.

Our improved diet, however, hasn't been able to stop Amanda from being allergic to something in our yard. When we tore out a downed manggo tree in our yard, Amanda could tell it was going to start soon. But she got a jump on the swelling and spots on her arms through the ample use of drowsiness inducing medicine. So for the last two days, she has fought a valiant but losing battle against waves of "do not opperate heavy machinery-ness." She'll do one more day of heavy medicines today after I get home from classes and hopefully be done with it.

Even dizzy, my wife does a lot. She manages to make meals, do laundry, get her boys off to school, send dessert to the neighbor across the street. She helps @ with homework (yeah, he has homework for preschool). She keeps the houseworker from comepletely rearranging the house. And in between this, she tries to get a couple of minutes in the airconditioning to help keep the swelling down and limit her recovery time. Exhausting.

I try to help out a little here and there and don't do nearly enough. And still I'm tired. I guess this is what I deserve for breaking my leg the month before @ was born. I owe her.

Cheaters

This past week I gave four classes their midterm exams. And, not too unexpectedly, I caught students cheating. But what was suprising was that these students were women. Not that I am an authority on the subject but usually I only catch men (boys?) copying answers. When I mentioned this to some of my colleagues, they weren't the least bit shocked. Boys don't care enough to cheat here.

Just a few minutes after the exam was over, I began running through the vocabulary portion of the test and noticed that one student had yet to get a single answer correct. Sure, I'm usually tough but not that tough. Looking more closely, I realized that the reason for the problem was that she had written the answers for the second version of the test - the version that a classmate sitting on either side of her. I was howling mad.

Later, I shared this with Amanda who took on the challenge of identifying who it was that this student cheated off of. With 80 or so students, I thought this was unlikely but within a couple of minutes, the co-cheater was found (their short answers were too alike to be coincidence). I think Amanda has a future in law enforcement.

The next day, I called in both of them where the first student admitted to the crime while the second acknowledged that she allowed but did encourage her friend to cheat. Neither student apologized or even indicated that what they did was wrong.

Both students recieve an F for the exam and the cheater will get an automatic 0 for the course.

Yeah, things are the same all over.

It hasn't been THAT long since I blogged...

I'm teaching about mass media in America this week so I thought I should revist the blog that I've largely neglected (abused?) for the last couple of months. Why?

• Facebook is a time suck. And it's easier to post a one sentence update than go for a whole (meaning 1 paragraph) theme. There's no pressure to even say anything and a ton of voyeristic, looking over everyone else's shoulders that can be done.
• Work. While not that time consuming, it does take the creative energy out of me. I spend Tuesday and Wednesday trying to get my laid-back Asian students excited, or even angry, about something.
• Family. I spend a couple of hours a day on this computer anyway and I feel guilty about ignoring our son who just wants to play with me. He's four and experimenting with words and ideas and behaviors. God, I pray that he doesn't outgrow this.
• Life. We feel like we haven't totally found our place here yet but are also trying to see how to figure out what we should be doing. Should I spend more time at work so I can do a better job trying to connect with my students and colleagues? Should we be going on more walks around the neighborhood in hopes of running into and maybe talking to the people around here? Should we be looking for international groups so we have some other foreigners to hang out with?
• The other blog. Even though it hasn't actually started yet, I've been mentally developing this blog for American professors living abroad for about a year now. Separate name, separate readership, brilliant exchanges of ideas and resources. But I want it to be completely different than this one without taking time from any of the above. But blogs are dead, aren't they?

On the plus side of things, I'm thrilled that Facebook has helped me catch up with old classmates from Heyworth High, old Campus House friends (Emily Potter...anyone?) and even people from the EIU Forensics team (am I the only one without tenure or my name on a marquee?). It's great that I can see pictures of my new neice and vacations that friends have taken. I can pray for people moments after they list a concern. I can keep up with moves and new adventures. Good stuff.

When you've already Googled everyone you know...

Try your name, try your friends' names, try your relatives' names:

WorldCat Identities

My coolest result: My aunt has books or articles in four languages.

Then you can go back to wasting time on Facebook.

A Passing

On May 23, an explosion tore through a minibus in an African capitol and took the lives of several of the riders. Among them was our friend Hezy, an Israeli-American elephant professor who used to work at the same university as I did.

For two years our apartment was across from his and his dog's. His white hair and smiling face conveyed a sort of Jewish Santa Claus. I remember hearing stories of how he kept elephant dung on the balcony so he could measure its moisture content. While on safari, counting the few elephants remaining in the country, his puppy nearly killed him when all thirty pounds of it challenged a bull elephant. He came to our house for Thanksgiving. We often road the bus to school together and talked politics.

As I read about him and others who will miss him, I realize that he really was brilliant. One person said that he might know more about elephants than anyone else in the world. And despite this, he worked sacrificially for a University that lacked running water, decent textbooks or consistent electricity

He was a good man. I would have liked my son to have known him.

Deaf to the Word of God...or because of it?

I don't want to be petty. I don't want to be one of those church hoppers who switches churches every time the preacher says something I may not completely agree with or he pulls something out of context. I don't want to complain about the type of grape beverage they use for communion or how much/little time is taken up by off-key little kids yelling out a two verse rendition of "Jesus Loves Me". This is why I struggle with the fact that I think we may need to switch churches after only really getting to know some people.

The problem is not doctrine or format. The problem is VOLUME. I wish it was just the music or one particular instrument or praise team's microphones but it's the entire sound system. Even the "quieter for emphasis" parts of the sermon would still warrant "could you turn that down a bit" request if it was in your own home. It's at a level where you feel each note. The pages of your Bible vibrate. My pocket translator bounces off the plastic chair next to me. My heart beats faster and heavier (never good when you happen to be at my fitness level). I walk out with a ringing in my ears and, usually, a headache. The church is simply too loud.

The first Sunday we went to this store front church just down from the Harley dealer, I figured it might simply be too loud for where we were sitting. So the next Sunday we moved places. And we continue to move. Each Sunday we look to find that elusive dead zone, that vacuum where just maybe the decibel level is half of where it is elsewhere. Those spots are either taken by the first arrivers or don't exist.

The week I wore cotton in my ears, the pastor's wife asked me about the new addition to my attire. We were alone, on the way to dropping @ at Sunday school so I thought this might be a chance to voice what others had been thinking but didn't bring up. Her response to my mention of the volume was, basically, "silly American, this is how we do things in this country."

And she's right. The church we attended while in language school was also too loud but not nearly as painfully so. One American we knew there had taken to wearing earplugs during worship. At the time I thought it was funny. It wasn't THAT loud. And the man was in his fifties so he was clearly too old to understand that "this is how we do things" in contemporary worship.

From the 4 am call to prayer to the food vendors walking down the street with their particular jingle playing over battery-operated speakers, there is noise everywhere. The men selling pirated music and dvds on the streets block the sidewalks, forcing you to inch past their speakers. The minibuses play the radio over the sound of their exhaust pipe-less engines. Cellphone users talk over the blasted muzak in the malls. Motorcycles are everywhere and none of them purr quietly.

From time to time an article is written in the local and international papers about the country's "hearing loss epidemic." The next day the article is replaced by one discussing the "diabetes epidemic" or obesity or air pollution or...and they all fall on deaf ears.

This week I wore earplugs which at least felt a bit more discreet than the furry bits of white that grew out of my ears weeks before. The sound at church was still loud but a bit more contained. My heart rushed more than it should but it was certainly better. I was able to enjoy the music a little and even concentrate on understanding the transitions between the songs. It wasn't that bad. Maybe this could work. And then I looked over at our three year old son who had both hands firmly pressed against his ears.

Another first day of school

Yesterday was my first day of teaching...in years. For the last two months I had been observing a couple of classes as I waited for papers to be processed and permits be signed. Once that was done, I was legal to work.

The course is simple. Each week, the students read a short story or essay written about or by a particular ethnic group. A group of three students then presents about that group, takes some questions from the rest of the class based on their report and a short discussion ensues. Really there's only a little amount of teaching (maybe twenty minutes about of the hour and forty minute class). Since the students had their midterm exams last week, this was a good time to transition from the other teacher to me.

The only problem is that when it was time for class, only about half of the students were there. Also, the other teacher and the group who was supposed to present were also missing. So I started without them and spoke for first half an hour with material I planned on using at the end of class.

When the missing students several other stragglers and other prof arrived, the group explained that they were not ready with anything. Only one of them had even picked up the material and I doubt he had read it. But not a problem, I could always lead a discussion about the material we read.

Except only a couple of students in the rest of the class had picked it up. Literally, something like three people had read the text. The other prof thought it wouldn't be a good use of our time to lecture about a short story about Norwegian immigrants and the cultural contributions of the vikings that only five of us had read.

So for the next hour I gave an impromptu lecture on cultural centers, ethnocentrism, adaptation vs assimilation and a lot of odd references to American sports and 1980's pop culture.

Maybe eight years of extemp and impromtu did teach me something.

Bag o' money

My bank creeps me out.

Once they made an error in my bankbook and rather than waiting for me to bring the book in the next day, they sent a van full of people TO MY HOUSE to fix the typo. A bank that makes house calls?

When I go to my local branch, I am often ushered from the back of the line to the counter for "priority" customers. One teller was chastised when she didn't notice me and I was stuck waiting for nearly five minutes before a surpervisor noticed me and called me to the front. I was offered a sincere apology for the wait.

More recently they took my passport and bankbook while I waited at the counter. There was a "minor problem" they explained but they'd fix it shortly. Half an hour lately, as I had memories of a certain gov't "minor problem" a few years ago running through my head, they finally came back with my documents and the explanation that their printer had jammed.

On my way out if the parking lot I was stopped by two of the security guards. Rambling in a couple of versions of English, the national and local languages, they utterly confused me. Finally, they got around to explaining that one or both of them would appreciate being hired as as a security guard for my house or business. This is not typical. There are guards for communities and banks and huge businesses but not much more than that.

My last visit was even more odd. I was just planning to use the ATM in the bank's foyer but when I arrived I was quickly ushered inside. I had forgotten my money the last time I was at the bank. They walked me to the front and brought the bills from the back. Thousands of them. Even in local currency, it probably amounted to several thousand dollars worth of paper. They brought me, literally, a bag of money. They never asked for my ID or even my name. They just offered me several bricks of varying denominations and expected me to go on my way.

The problem was, I hadn't forgotten any money. I'd never withdrawn anything near that amount and hadn't been in the bank for several days. I explained this and who I was and that I really wasn't there to do anything but pay my electric and phone bills through the ATM. They reluctantly accepted my answer and took the money away.

Odd.

Since I've been gone...

Just some randomness that has come up since we moved here a month ago:

I thought I'd blog more now that we have high speed wireless. Actually, I just play more Scrabulous.

I'm tired of spending more time dwelling on my house than His House.

I absolutley love riding our motorcycle. But it really is too small for three people to enjoy a long ride on it.

After a month of living a mile from the ocean, today we finally went out to see it. Now I really want a kayak.

The time to move to a new city is not during the rainy season. It's never dry enough and misquito-free enough to just walk around the neighborhood and meet people.

Still waiting on paperwork for the work Visa to come through. No classes have been assigned to me so there's nothing for me to prepare for. I really can't even get involved in meetings yet.

This city is ten times bigger than we left and yet I can't find a place to buy cheese or an electric hair trimmer.

I look forward to the dry season so we can teach @ to ride a bike.

We have a package waiting for us in our old city and I don't know who sent it. (A friend will get it for us next week.)

I've been dwelling a lot on "whatever happended to...whoever" recently. Maybe because the future is so unknown right now. Annie Bergstrom found me not too long ago and now I wonder about a lot of others. Emily Potter? Brent Rankin? Kelly Wrobel? Matt Logaman? Corey O'Donnel?

Within a week's time, I bough two copies of John Grisham's new non-fiction book. They had two different covers and I was exhausted from cancelled flights and rescheduling. The first person I thought to offer the book to had also recently purchased it.

The best bookstore in town is at the airport...on the other side of security...which almost anyone can bluff their way through without a ticket or boarding pass. It's also only about ten minutes from here.

While in Singapore we found a place to stay that was nicer than the Y and nearly $150 Sing dollars cheaper. It's a bit off the subway routes but if we learned to use the busses there, it'd be great.

Things my son loves: Mr. Bean, anything superhero related, his new matchbox racetrack that has an elevator and can be mounted to the back of the door. (He got it for Christmas but we held off a month so he could play with it unbroken here.) He also can't get enough of Elmo or trying to make someone else laugh by asking Elmo-like questions. "Can a turtle wear underwear? Can a bed wear underwear?" And boats and planes. Singpore. Richard Scarry's Busytown books. "Fixing" things.

Breakfast has started to matter to me in the last few months. If I don't eat something, I'm starving by noon. It used to be that a can of Coke or Mountain Dew would keep me though lunchtime.

I miss snow and the changes in the weather beyond rain or not rain.

New job

If you check my Facebook updates, you might have heard that I have a new job...sort of...or at least I have signed a contract and will start working once the gov't approves my Visa. I'm scheduled to start in March which should give me plenty of time to prep, go to Singapore twice (since the current Visa is expiring and the work Visa isn't ready and I'll have to go out once it is), finally move all the way into the new house, learn my way around a crazy busy city and sleep.

But like all new jobs, I have no idea what I'm actually doing. There are supposed to be two components to what I'll be teaching: literature and American studies. There's no problem with the literature part - I could and have taught that in my sleep (my spologies to any of you who were my Eureka students). I enjoy it, especially the theory. My resourses for good texts may be a bit limited here but I can creatively work around that.

I really don't have the first clue about American studies. I haven't really paid much attention to America for the last several years and was never cool so I don't have any idea about pop culture unless Relevant wrote about it (and by that time, everyone in America had moved on to something new already).

Multiculturalism in America? Thematic Film studies? American Intellectual History? Theory of Culture? Method of Cultural Research?

So who/what should I be reading? I'll be heading to Singapore this weekend where bookstores abound so any ideas would really be appreciated.