So there I was in Suicide City, exhausted and unmotivated while those around me killed themselves. Not a bad start to the summer holidays I thought. As a younger man with my whole life before me and a CV to fill this job seemed perfect. Things have changed a bit now though and having taught 6 days a week for a year, spending summer teaching 6 days a week had somewhat lost it's appeal. It's been nearly a year since I had a holiday in which I didn't have to work.
The company I worked for is one of the biggest English teaching companies in the world and to get a job with these guys is pretty prestigious. Flight was thrown in and accomodation too. After a day of teaching they paid me half the cost of my flight back and the other half was withheld until the end of my contract at the end of summer.
After a day of teaching I realised that I had made a mistake. What the hell was I doing teaching kids in my holidays!?! Two typhoons hit town and I pondered my choice as the rain lashed down and the wind tore through the alleyways, blowing the plants in the balcony over and ripping down the metal fence that seperated us from our neighbours. In the morning I had made up mind.
On Tuesday morning, I had 2 lessons to teach and a plane to catch at 12:25 to Shanghai. As I made my way to the streets to find a taxi, checking over my shoulder dragonflies fluttered in my throat and I kept repeating the Chinese for "To the airport please!" which must have sounded to the taxi driver like an order for special fried rice from his perplexed expression.
By 10:30 in the morning my first lesson was under way at the school. I was on my way to the airport. My Boss must have had a fit. By the time the lesson was over at 12:00 it would have been too late for him to track me down. I was on the flight to Shanghai.
And so a new adventure begins....
