(English version below.)
Mandalay. Hier sind Roller und Motorraeder nicht wie in Yangon verboten und dominieren wie in den meisten Metropolen Suedostasiens den Strassenverkehr. Generell wirkt der Boden sandiger und passt zu der bruetenden Hitze. Die Mittagszeit ist in der Sonne kaum auszuhalten und selbst im Schatten hat es circa 40 Grad. Sogar die Einheimischen beschweren sich ueber diese Temperaturen, was mich ueberraschte. An der frischen Luft hat man zumindest die Chance einen Windzug zu erwischen, wohingegen der Ventilator in unserem Zimmer mehr Deko darstellt. Die ersten Naechte hier waren bisher das Gewoehungsbeduerftigste. Ich habe noch nie so ein Dschungelfeeling gehabt wie nachts in unserem Zimmer. Zusaetzliche seltsame Traeume seien wohl normal in der Anfangszeit, hat man uns gesagt.
Als wir gestern nach einer kleinen Erkundungstour durch unser Viertel nur kurz unsere Sachen im Zimmer ablegen wollten, um danach auf der Dachterrasse den Tag entspannt ausklingen zu lassen, mussten wir eine Kleinkaeferinvasion in unserem Zimmer feststellen. Bett, Klamotten, Rucksaecke, Waende und einfach alles hatten die kleinen Biester in Beschlag genommen. Innerlich tobend und dem Nervenzusammenbruch nahe fingen wir an jedes einzelne Kleidungsstueck auszuschuetteln, zu stapeln und so gut es ging die Viehcher mit Taschentuechern zu entfernen. Als es auf einmal auch noch einen Stromausfall gab, kein Licht und kein Ventilator funktionierte, konnten wir einfach nur noch ueber diese absurde Situation lachen. Mit Stirnlampen und Schweissperlen auf der Stirn erschien uns in diesem Moment Bier zu trinken das einzig Richtige.
Knapp zwei Stunden spaeter schienen wir die Kontrolle in unserem Zimmer zurueckerobert zu haben und hingen das erste Mal seit unserer Ankunft unsere Mosquitonetze auf. Wohlgemerkt nicht wegen der (aeusserst wenigen) Mosquitos. Noch eine riesige Kakerlake im Bad und der Tag hatte endlich ein Ende.
Nach einer weiteren Dschungelnacht stand uns heute der erste Tag im Kinderheim bevor. Da wir schon am Sonntag beim Gottesdienst Father John (den Leiter des Heimes) und Anne (die Betreuerin der Kinder) kennengelernt hatten, waren wir nun sehr gespannt auf die 25 Jungs im Alter von 6 bis 16. Sie haben eigentlich gerade Ferien und unser Englischunterricht wird bis zum Schulbeginn im Juni der einzige fuer die Bande sein. Sie sassen alle schon ganz brav mit Stift und Heft auf den Baenken und kicherten verlegen. Ich merkte wie aufgeregt ich auf einmal war und um das zu ueberspielen fing ich einfach an mich laut und langsam vorzustellen. Als sie dann alle im Chor "Hello Valentina" riefen wurde mir warm ums Herz. Noch nie zuvor habe ich irgendjemanden unterrichtet und erstrecht nicht 25 Jungs von einem burmesischen Bergstamm. Tom gab uns zuvor noch ein paar Tipps und die versuchten wir einfach umzusetzen - vor allem langsam sprechen, moeglichst vereinfachte Formen verwenden und die Kinder alles wiederholen lassen. So gestalteten wir die folgenden drei Stunden damit Koerperteile zu benennen, sich vorzustellen, Tiere aufzuzaehlen, die man mag, und die man nicht mag. Relativ schnell konnten wir einschaetzen, welche der Jungs schon fortgeschrittenere Kenntnisse besitzen und welche noch intensivere Uebungen der Basics benoetigen. Waehrend Ling mit den Fortgeschritteneren Woerter an die Tafel schrieb widmete ich mich den drei Juengsten und fragte sie nach Zahlen, Wochentagen und Monaten. Ich glaube sie hatten Spass, zumindest kicherten sie oft und zeigten mir stolz ihre Hefte, wenn sie etwas hineingeschrieben hatten. Beim Durchschauen der Hefte konnte ich auf einer Seite lesen: "I like Tiger. I don't Snake. I like Valentina." Ein unbeschreibliches Gefuehl. Die Buchstaben meines Namens waren annaehernd so geschrieben, wie ich meinen Namen in meiner Handschrift zu Beginn der Stunde an die Tafel pinselte.
Um 12 Uhr kam Anne in den Klassenraum und signalisierte uns, dass es fuer heute genug sei. Ich merkte auch, wie anstrengend die Hitze jegliches Denken macht und die Aufmerksamkeit der Kinder nachliess. Fuer morgen planen wir Uhrzeiten und weitere Dialoge zu ueben. Vor allem das Sprechen ist das, worauf es ankommt.
Den Nachmittag bekamen wir frei, um den Royal Palace und eine Pagode zu besichtigen.
Wir hatten einen netten Burmesen, Mister Morris, dabei, der die Fahrt dorthin organisierte, uns ein paar Dinge erklaerte und etwas herumfuehrte. Wir waren nicht ganz sicher, was er dafuer haben wollte, weil er immer wieder betonte, unser "Myanmar Uncle" zu sein. Letztlich gaben wir ihm 4000 Kyat, was circa 4 Dollar entspricht und ihn sehr zufrieden stellte. Fuer ihn sicher ein rentabler Nachmittag.
Eine andere Welt ist das hier. Und mir kommt unsere Ankunft in Yangon schon ewig her vor. Kaum zu glauben, dass noch 3 Monate vor uns liegen.
// Valentina
PS: Ein anderes Internetcafe verspricht Hoffnung. Wir haben die Bilder des letzten Eintrages hochladen koennen.
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It's time for another update, I think. Since I'm in Myanmar I have to talk in English every day. I mean, English surrounds me in Germany every day, too. But I don't have to talk as much there, just write and listen. But now that I'm that involved talk wise I get lazy with updating the blog in English as well. But now I have a few spare minutes and I found it important, so here it goes.
Last time we spoke it was Wednesday, May 8th. Thursday was my favourite day in Yangon. In the morning Valentina, Tom and I went to Shwedagon Pagoda and gosh, it's just indescribable. To see pictures of Shwedagon Pagoda means literally nothing. The name The Golden Land for Myanmar is well deserved. When I thought about the whole temple being not just gold coloured, but made of gold my mind just went crazy. I just couldn't grasp it. Even now that I've been there myself I still can't believe it. It's definitely one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life.
Afterwards we went back to Tokyo Gust House and had a nice evening with Tom and a Swizz girl we met the day before. We were laughing and talking, drank some beer and had quite a great time, I think. Well, I know I did. And it was rather perfect, because I loved this whole day so very much and when I went to bed, I remember being happy. Feeling fulfilled even.
But the day after that. Hah. So very different! So stressful. The day was quite alright, but in the evening we wanted to take the bus to Mandalay. Normally it took Tom like 30 or 40 minutes from the Guest House to the bus station. But not this time, oh no. We hopped into a cap with and hour time. The driver drove pretty damn slow and after 45 minutes we began to wonder what would happen next. Next? He said to Tom, "You want to know something?" Mhm, I guess so. "I'm not a taxi driver." Say what?! I thought I can't be serious. But he was. It got even funnier when he said he was very tired. In my mind I saw us crashing into the gutter. After like an hour Tom asked whether the driver really knows the way to the bus station. He answered, "Yes, I know the way. I know where the bus station is. This road though I do not know." You have got to be fucking kidding me, I thought. He can't be serious! If he doesn't know this freaking road, how the hell is he going to bring us to the damn bus? We all got a little nervous whether he was for real. He might have wanted to rob us and I'd say at this point we were very easy to rob, because we had already left the city and had to idea were we were. I mean, I had no idea anyway. But I'm not so sure whether Tom knows the exact way to the station ^^
Well, in the end it took us 105 minutes. We arrived 15 minutes before the bus left for Mandalay. We got in and we were alive and had all our belongings with us and everything was fine. But hell, I'm not going to do this again anytime soon, haha. I mean, I was more relaxed than I should have been, I think. It's just now in retrospective that I think it could have been quite a dangerous situation. Even Tom said that this was the most scary situations he experienced since he moved to Asia two years ago.
We arrived in Mandalay on Saturday at 6 am. It's so different from Yangon (and I'm using this word way too often). Motor bikes are allowed here and they dominate the streets. The ground is more dusty, which fits the brooding heat rather nicely.
Our room is slightly larger, but now we don't have air condition, just a fan. And to be honest, fans suck pretty hard. Pun intended. Because Mandalay is even hotter than Yangon and after three nights I already feel like there's no air left in the room. Also every night I have weird, lucid dreams and I feel exhausted in the morning. Of course there are people who don't even have a fan and I can't even begin to imagine how awful that must be. But to say it in Stephen Chbosky's words (yep, it's quoting day): "I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have."
Saturday wasn't that exciting. Some places to see, some people to meet. On Sunday we went to Church and of course the mess was in Myanmar language, but it was interesting nevertheless. After that we met Father John, the owner of the St. Marie's orphanage in which we're teaching, and Anne, the, I'd say, caretaker and the heart of the place. Very sweet people and I felt very welcomed from the very beginning. Even though, I must say, there was this one volunteering girl and everyone keeps talking about her and I feel like she outshines Valentina and me and I don't like the feeling of that. But we'll do our best (:
In the evening we headed back to our room and wanted to sit with a nice, cold beer on the roof, but nah. There was a bug invasion going on and so it took us two hours to clean up or room and our clothes. Of course in the middle of this there was a power cut. So no light, not fan. We looked at each other and instead of crying we started to laughed very loudly. We put on our headlights and opened the cans. And just after we had a little entanglement with a cockroach in the bathroom the day finally came to an end.
After another night in the jungle room we had our first day of teaching. 20-ish boys from the ages of 6 to 15 were sitting there, waiting for us to teach them some English. Normally they have holidays right now, but i think 2 or 3 hours of English a day should be quite alright as long as we make it fun.
I never taught before, so it was pretty exciting for me to see how I'd manage that. But the boys are very sweet and a lot of them know quite a lot of English. Tom gave us some tips beforehand so we had something to work with. We talked very slowly (which is not my most favourite exercise), used simple forms and let the kids repeat everything rather often. After 3 hours we all were very tired, but I must say I also was very proud of myself. I felt like I've had done something good and lasting. That's a very nice feeling and normally I don't get that very often.
I love them all very much, but I must admit that after only two days I already have three boys that are very close to my heart. Also there was this one boy sitting in the front row and just by accident I discovered that he drew the stick figure tattoo I have in my neck in his notebook. That made my heart melt <3
Since Tom left (us) today for Bangkok and Laos to take care of other projects we're now on our own. I mean, of course not really. We already have so many people in Mandalay taking care of us. We can ask them anything and I'm pretty sure they'll offer us all the help we need and more. But at the moment I think my heart is still a little bit in Yangon and I just got very used to Tom showing us around the city and listening to his interesting stories that I now feel a little, well, alone? That's not the right word, but somewhere in this area of a feeling. But I'm sure it'll be fine in no time and I'll feel as much at home as I did last week.
Oh, and one funny thing happened. Funny in the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind way, not the Ace Ventura way. Yesterday, after teaching, we went to see the Mandalay Palace. And there were Myanmar tourists coming to Valentina and me asking to take a picture with them. I guess if people in Yangon aren't that used to seeing foreigners these people never saw them before. We felt pretty weird and somewhat famous for the wrong reasons. I mean, I liked it that I made them happy and that they'd have a nice memory. But it felt so very strange. So very, very strange. Suddenly I was Charlie McDonnell, getting recognised on the streets, just living my boring every day life. But yeah, in the end, I like making people happy and that's what counts.
// ling
