Bari

July 20 2010

We pretty much knew things were going to be a bit special here after the first evening in Bari.

Unfortunately, many of these little incidents and side notes that created such a special place are far too inappropriate and damaging to certain individuals that I can’t really write about them here…maybe in 10 years time I’ll write a book called ‘no knickers in a cathedral’ and reveal all. Until then I shall tell the rather less interesting, though still fairly bizarre, tale of my time in Bari…sans all the damaging, lurid details…

 

So essentially we had 200 kids (yes) gathered in an abandoned stadium (mmm) at a sports camp with a little bit of English thrown in for good measure (read as not good measure for the kids…perhaps torture).

The first Monday was probably one of the most challenging days of my life. Twenty-five 7 year olds who boo English, run for the gate repeatedly, stare you down, stab each other with the handily placed metal poles kicking around and who try to rip up/destroy/kill/hide anything of any significance whatsoever. To help me in my plight I had Nicolo, my Italian coach, who would routinely scream at the kids, scare them shitless and then leave to smoke away his anger…which would make them behave for approximately 5 mins and him appear to resent me deeply for the next 5 hours. I must admit, I felt totally out of my depth. I cried out of sheer frustration for the stupidity of the situation…how can you have an English immersion camp with a bunch of Italians everywhere?! However, after a few well-directed chats and a good moan I soon found my groove with the kids. By Wednesday I had established a powerful symbiosis of a kick-ass sticker system, a much-used naughty chair, and a technique I call ‘chase, throw over the shoulder and carry back to camp’. At first I’m pretty sure my 20 boys hated me and my 5 girls thought I was the coolest girl they had ever met, but by the end of the week the boys were loving the tough love approach and unfortunately found out I could kick a ball, wrestle them and beat them at basketball…so finally…using every inch of my energy and all the patience I could muster, I made it through the two weeks.

 

I came to realise during these two weeks that you really can do anything if you have good people around, especially if they force you to take an amusing view on all the chaos that surrounds you. Usually I don’t need this, or look for it, but I am so grateful for people looking after me for these two weeks! I was reunited with some of my good friends from orientation and we were put with a truly stella group…a group that really came into its own after what I would call, and I think I speak for us all, one of the most bizzare weekends of my life. This is where you should insert most of your horrific, lurid and ridiculous imaginings, as this was the defining 48 hours of the whole two weeks.

I shall tell the rest now.

So it began, in Italy as it always does, half an hour later than it was intended- usually due coffee and insane traffic- this time however, I will just say that the outfits witnessed that fine morning resulted in a good 30 minute hysteria, during which it seemed impossible to contemplate moving at all, so I can’t really blame the Italians- well, I can. Eventually all 30 odd of us, English and Italian, loaded on to the bus to set off on our all-expenses-paid weekend of sightseeing, beach and vino. As soon as the bus set off the party began: we sang every Bari/Puglia chant known to man, a fair few random Italian songs and the odd British anthem, we danced in the isles, we squished into chairs every which way, we waved at fellow motorists…it was pretty much like been 15 on a school trip again…I even sat at the back! The day was pretty much normal then (from what I can actually tell you), we saw a Cathedral, went to the beach, took a ton of photographs in front of a million different ‘best views ever’.

Then came the night!

We got put up in a well swanky 4 star hotel with an infinity pool on the roof and lifts and couches and mirrors and art on the walls and all that jazz! We had a slap up dinner, three courses, all you can drink wine of any colour- and then we got dumped in the centre of Lecce at 11pm, no directions home and with nobody who knows the city at all. It was rather hilerious…once we had figured out what we all wanted to do, split into smaller groups and had a couple of drinks to ease the shock of course. I often find that these kind of situations spark creativity and what occurred that night goes to show just how much fun you can have on next to no money and next to no navigational skills. My friend came up with the genius idea of doing everything that starts with the letter C. We had already had a few coronas so we were well on our way…next step crepes, cigarettes (sorry Mum), cubba chubbs lollies, we performed a concert to baffled Italians, we got photos with randon cars, children, coconuts, we went in a casino and had a lovely chat with the bouncer…and we somehow managed to meander our way home…where the C action didn’t end…we tried to brake into the conference centre and the swimming pool (if we got wet, we would be cold), we ran from the lurking receptionist to take photos on the couch and finally ended the night cuddled up watching a dubbed (in German?!?!) Jackie Chan movie.

Needless to say we all felt a little worse for wear the next day…not that that stopped another bus party to our next destination. The morning was spent in some funky little towns with more amazing views and sickeningly good smells and people and leather sandals…and then we drove out of the town to a random venue where we had lunch…at a wedding reception. (yup) Did anyone know these people? Nope. Did we know we were booked into a wedding reception? Nope. But there we were. So we pretty much spent the next 4 hours dancing and singing and eating with the wedding party. A total crash. Now my life’s dream is complete I really don’t know what to do with myself. I kept having those moments, mid YMCA, where I would just stop and freeze the situation, hover above myself and look down thinking, ‘what the hell is going on: I’m in Italy with a bunch of random people that I love a little too much given I’ve only know them a week, singing the YMCA at some knocked up Italian Ladies wedding, in shorts and a tank top, sweating all over the joint and absolutely loving every second of it’. I think I can die happy now. After we left the party, drunk as anything, full as is possible, dangling wine bottles taken from the tables like drunks…we went to some caves. Now I don’t know if you have ever seen 30 drunks in a cave, but it’s a pretty special sight! How we made it back alive is anyones guess, what with more bus dancing and a journey to the centre of the Earth- but we did, and it payed us back for our tough first week, and sailed us through our next.

If these two weeks taught me anything, it’s that free stuff, friends and ‘what the F’ moments really can make anything bearable. That and a kick ass host family that feed you well, do all your laundry and have Matisse on the walls!

 

I Have A Ball Of Steel!

You know what…I think my little bubble world is made of steel. Actual steel. Not that cheap plastic cover that is moulded and painted to look like the real-deal, no, just the actual real-deal.

See, when I came here I wasn’t sure if my world of child-like positivity, endless energy and bad French accents (I like to call it Jess world) could sustain me. I wasn’t sure if my adventure-lust and bravado were real or just things that had just become so expected of me that I performed them on autopilot.  I didn’t know if smiles and funny quips would be enough to charm people into looking after me and guiding me through my hopeless grip on the everyday necessities. In a way that’s why I wanted to come here- to cut loose all that has propped jess world up thus far and find out if I can run it on my own, or is it in fact just all front, and performance, or as it has so endearingly being called several times, unreal, delusional and frankly, ridiculous.

Well I have news haters! This place is as real as Bridlington Seaside!…without the druggies.  After almost four months of isolation, of slowly removing all the props of my previous life, and rebuilding a support system that mainly is just me, I can say that not much has changed besides aesthetics. Jess world is rock-solid, real life, klinck klinck, knock on metal, the real-deal.

My apparently loveable incompetence has found me in the care of Jeff and his family, just like my friend at home he calls himself my PA…but in nice way…I don’t make him get me coffee or do my laundry or anything…although that is an idea…I find myself still entertaining children with my love of pirates, climbing trees and adventures, just this time it’s through the translations of a bewildered looking teacher and I can never be sure if the kids are laughing because they’ve told them the truth or some wonderful misinterpretation about me being a pirate and living up a tree- though either way is fine by me! I still make up songs as I go along and have random outbreaks of dancing, except now they happen in the classroom and have to involve the A,B,C. I’m still addicted to coffee, have bad taste in music and think that any problem in life can be solved by a calculated symbiosis of Shakespeare, Billy Joel and Elton John.

And so the conclusion I have come to is this…if I am doomed to an eternity of being deliriously happy and excited 99% of the time and remain naively hopeful, even though slightly hooked on caffeine, then I think I can handle a few people telling me I live in a dream world.

Yeah I do! It’s awesome…you should get yourself one!

 

The heathen westerner

March 30, 2009

Something I have realised is that Japan makes me feel a bit like an uncivilised heathen.

Not on purpose I’m sure.

The first thing that strikes you is how incredibly polite everyone is, how calm and clean the subway trains are and how efficiently everything is organised. Even as we landed we were greeted by five people bowing, the bus driver, the bell-boy and the receptionist all followed suit afterwards. Within no time you begin to pick it up and now I’m bowing left, right and centre. The longer I am here the more I notice; the waiter who covers all the dirty plates with a nice cloth as he wheels them on a tray to the kitchen so no one has to see them, the homeless man who carefully re-ties the garbage bag and tidies up after he has searched for food and the bell-boy who runs with eagerness for even the most menial task. I have not seen one child having a screaming fit, nor any parent needing to control. The worst thing I have seen is someone dragging his foot in gravel to make shapes…this made me stop and stare because it seemed so out of place. Even when travelling into and around Tokyo I didn’t see one dodgy-looking character as I would surely expect to in London or New York.

Everything is so ordered and calm and done with such enthusiasm that even my thoughts seem reckless and lacking in some dignity I feel that I should posses to get by.

Being here really makes me feel like I need to try harder.

Expectations are high, morals are revered and they tell us that selflessness is the one golden rule you must remember to survive. Everything is geared towards maintaining the status-quo, making others happy and throwing yourself into the moment so as to make it matter. For example, the other night we all went out for our last night and we went to a bar where there was a dance floor. After a while a few of us started to dance and were soon joined by a handful of young Japanese, salarymen still suited and booted and some hot young things that were hip-hop geniuses. I have never had a greater two hours dancing. This was a none-descript bar, on a none-descript day with random people just thrown together, but we partied like we were never going to party again! The locals just threw themselves into entertaining and having a great time. We didn’t need alcohol. We didn’t need music we knew. I mean if any of you have seen me dance, well they made me want to dance more crazy! Their enthusiasm made me think I should be putting more effort in…so I did and it made my thighs ache for the next three days!

I don’t think it’s such a bad thing to think you can do better, but the alien thing is the way in which I am thinking I should be better. Usually when I travel there is an inherent arrogance held in the English language; Americans believe that the British are fabulously intelligent and wonderfully cultured, and the Europeans are so much more willing to learn our language than we are theirs so we are never threatened with a move out of the comfort zone. I can wonder into their cultures and always know I will never be far from home, I can mock it, exaggerate it and play upon stereotypes, but here I have no such safety net. Here, there is no arrogance, little knowledge of English and the general view that the West is pretty terrifying. So whereas in America I might have mocked my horrific chop-stick skills, or in Europe shrugged off my lack of language knowledge, in Japan I am embarrassed and self conscious, just bowing to pretty much everything and hoping that that makes up for my stupidity! Don’t get me wrong though I’m still laughing and genki, but I think I will be walking on eggshells for a while hoping that my smile will get me through and my blue eyes buy me enough time to learn Japanese!