Homeless?

Traveling is wonderful. You get hooked on it so easily that you feel like you never want to stop or go back home.
We've all heard the phrase "back to reality" and it's usually used by people returning to their homes and "realities" after a holiday. It's an interesting choice of words when you think about it. Wasn't the holiday a reality? Why not? Too good to be true? Why couldn't it continue? Why couldn't THAT be your reality instead of the one you're living now?

This is possibly how I first started to challenge the thought of "reality" and what it was. I had been on a backpacking holiday for almost a year with a good friend and as she needed to return home for work and responsibilities, I was fully aware that I had cut all ties back home in case I didn't want to return. And I didn't.

Throughout my first year or two backpacking I had a revelation. It's almost as if you've opened your eyes to the beauty of life: you realize there's no need to return to the "real" world of routine, boring stability or any of those familiar, mundane things that make the average everyday life. After I experienced this moment of clarity I started seeing the world in a different way. I realized that the world really IS your oyster! Instead of restrictions and limits I started seeing options, dreams, ideas and unlimited possibilities. The world changed for me.

Since those days I've done a whole lot more traveling and living abroad and have been lucky to meet other people who do what I do. We each have our different stories and ways of making it happen, but there are a few people out there who go around the globe, traveling with no apparent cause. Simply because we can.
I could get all poetic here and talk about the beauty of life, how short our time on this globe is and of the importance to stop and smell the roses - and all that is definitely a big part of why I do what I do - but I keep traveling because I know once I've tasted this life of a vagabond existence I couldn't just settle down anymore and be happy. For now, happiness for me comes from the adventures and instability. Being "homeless".

This year has been a great one already: since I finished my year in China and returned to visit my family and friends in Europe I have been happier than in a long time. Though it has been very interesting meeting new people - trying to introduce myself, who I am and what I do - and it has been increasingly difficult for me to answer simple questions that people normally ask each other, such as "what do you do for a living", "where do you live", "do you have hobbies". I'd like to think of myself as a quite witty individual so many times I've given answers like "I'm homeless, actually" or "I change jobs like underwear, at the moment I'm not working, just traveling", or even "my hobbies depend on the country I live in, really". Sometimes people are horrified when I tell them I don't have a permanent address and I even had someone offer me to come stay with them for the night because they were afraid I was literally out on the street!

I've found that many people do not "get" the traveling, rootless way of life. It seems incomprehensible to many that anyone would be wanting to live with such uncertainty and lack of security, homeless. I have been bombarded with gazillion questions and the most popular one always is "how can you afford this life style?". To be honest my way of life is not that expensive. And funnily enough I seem to have more money saved on my bank account than many of my friends who work full time to pay for their mortgages, car loans and debts... To be fair I have no material things to show for my wanderings: all I have is stored within me as memories, wisdom (hopefully) and personal growth.

I might be homeless for I have no place to call my own - nor do I yearn for it.  ...Yet I feel at home in a place filled with friends or even strange, smiling faces. I have been welcomed to different places and homes of others such as if they were my own. In this way I have more homes than anyone could hope for. I feel I have no need for the traditional "home" because I feel homey in so many different places.

Now as a new chapter in my life is about to begin I say farewell to my cozy pit stop "home" in Europe. I'm happy to pack my bags and head out for new adventures. For "wherever I lay my hat, ..."

Bù xiè xiè zhōngguó (No thank you, China)

It finally happened. My time in China finally came to an end! A whole year of novelties, tribulations and all things I never expected! But I made it. I feel no less than a survivor, that is how mentally challenging the year was.

And it has taken time to recover. Leaving China alone was such a hassle it was completely traumatizing and at a point during the journey I actually broke down crying, thinking I would never be able to leave the damn country. Quite typically the outbound journey from my little rural Chinese city towards safe Europe was a big mess. It was the cherry on top of my foul tasting Chinese year.

To quickly give an idea of what my last days were like in China, I'll only mention a few fun facts: my agency hadn't paid me for 2 months of work and I was up to my eyeballs trying to make them pay; I got an intense diarrhea (again); I was thrown a grand birthday party; I got asked to stay for a second year; I spent two weeks and was unable to buy extra luggage from an airline; I had to figure out how to transfer money abroad from China; and last but not least, what was supposed to be an easy 70 minute flight to Beijing turned out to be a horror day of cancelled flights, dirty taxi drivers, Chinglish and misunderstandings, bureaucracy, lies and heaps of stress. In a nutshell: it was a big, emotional week leaving China.

But as I boarded the plane in Beijing heading towards Copenhagen, Denmark, I felt the presence of other Scandinavians and I slowly started to relax. My stomach was a burning furnace, but as language barrier was no longer an issue, my mood (and stomach) was relieved as I was able to get lovely, Western medicine for my condition. Even the Scandinavian air hostess was so lovely I got emotional for not having to deal with cold, rude Chinese people no longer. I wept as the plane took off. The realization that every second was getting me further from the damn country was blissful: I would never have to come back.

When I finally reached home my parents came to pick me up after I had been traveling pretty much non-stop for 48 hours. Home; homeland and my little hometown had never felt sweeter and more welcoming. It was difficult to describe to my family and friends how ecstatic I was simply because there were no people screaming, honking their vehicle horns 24/7, defecating on the street, staring or laughing at my white skin... Chinese culture was finally out of my life! People I encountered now were polite, well behaved, they smelled nice and didn't need to shout to communicate - and best yet, they understood me perfectly without a translator app!

I have tried to figure out whether I was a fool to stay in China for such a long time. I kept thinking to myself at the time that it was bound to get better: surely the worst had passed and I had immersed to the way of life there. But honestly speaking I never did enjoy it completely. Surely I enjoyed certain aspects of my life there: the attention, perks of being white, relatively easy money I made, good food (to be fair I ate my share of horrible things, too) and friends I made.
I can't see myself ever returning to China. Not ever for a holiday. In all honesty: I keep seeing nightmares where I'm still in China and for some reason or another I'm unable to leave. I always wake up stressed out - but feeling so damn lucky I'm actually out of there!

Seeing Chinese people and hearing the odd Mandarin being spoken around me when I'm in big European cities has to this day given me the creeps. I can't help but turn around and stare at these Asians who are polluting the sound waves coming to my ears. I get angry as flashbacks begin to flood in my mind's eye. I obviously still have issues with all things Chinese. Safe to say I won't be planning a holiday back there - ever.

So is there something one could learn from my experience? Myself included?
I think I would still recommend a person who is interested in traveling and new experiences to go to China. Even take up a teaching job! But definitely pay attention to where you are going and ask yourself what it is that you wish to gain from your time in China. Ironically before leaving to China I got asked if I had preferences about the location and I remember saying "oh I don't know anything about China, but I want to experience the real thing so feel free to send me somewhere outside the big cities!". This turned out to be my mistake. The city where I was sent to was just too small. I was not up to the challenge of being the first white person those locals ever laid their eyes upon. The language barrier destroyed my independence - or at least the sense of enjoyment in general.

As a positive I must say the year has made me stronger. I also know better now what it is I want from life and what I will avoid; what are my values, what kind of people I feel connected to; what makes me happy.

I'm happy to build my future on that.

Goodbye China; forever!

The (less) material girl

I don't crave for designer shoes anymore.
I don't desire a wardrobe filled with clothes and matching accessories.

My favorite clothes are faded and have holes for being worn constantly. They easily fit in my grubby old backpack.

I wear a bracelet I got from a "last chance clearance sale" until it's so worn&torn it falls apart.

For I have discovered this: constantly buying and possessing new things does not fill up your life or make you happy. The more shoes, bags, jewelry, scarves and other junk you buy the more they come to possess you, not the other way around.

Freedom comes from having no more than you need. Freedom is happiness. When you have a closet full of clothes yet nothing to wear, are you really lacking another dress? Will that make you happy, really?

My life has dramatically become a happier one after I stopped "shopping" like a material girl. Now instead of constantly worrying about what to wear, how to accessorize and how I look, I feel more confident in who I am, happy with what I've got.

We are living in a material world, but we don't have to be material girls.

The battle of non-natives

English teaching. It seems to be a world full of traps, deceits, sugar coated nonsense and trying to outsmart rather than to be outsmarted – and all this to endure before you even set a foot in a classroom or sign a teaching contract!

I'm talking about us ”traveling” teachers: people who are looking to get employed abroad rather than staying at home. Back at home you know the rules and they seem straightforward, ie. certain qualifications that are needed to be employed as a teacher. I for one never imagined that it could be such a twisted world of pretense trying to get a decent teaching job abroad. Especially after I paid nearly 3000€ for my CELTA teaching certificate, which is supposed to be the most recognized piece of paper you can have in the teaching world.

But more precisely I'm talking about the fact that many companies prefer native English speakers instead of non-natives. In fact that is not putting it quite correctly: they do not ”prefer”, they actually require. Many times non-natives are told not to even bother applying for teaching jobs.

As a non-native whose English is on the level of most native speakers, this obviously is very frustrating for me.

And for what reason are us non-natives discriminated? Many companies argue that they want the ”authentic accent” or ”knowledge of the preferred culture”, but I buy none of that for a second. As I've lived in China for a year now I have seen what it's like: hiring managers are perfectly happy offering you a job if you are a) white and b) sound like you come from an English speaking country. That's it. As I fill these requirements I've been offered jobs constantly. I have not accepted any of the offers since they were not my cup of tea nor have I let the people offering them know that I am actually not a native speaker; that in fact I fooled them with my accent and they mistook me for a native speaker. Though lately I've wondered why haven't I revealed to them that I'm not a native speaker? I guess my reasoning is that it would most likely make them think less of me and my language abilities – which is insane because my grasp of both written and spoken English is better than some of my native speaking friends. But none the less this is the reality for a non-native English speaker who wants to find a teaching job: we are simply tossed to a pile of unwanted material.

Every so often I spend a bit of time online searching for the next job opportunity. Time and time again I find that as a non-native English teacher my options are quite limited, especially because I don't yet have the 2+ years of teaching experience which would make it marginally easier for me to get employed.

It's obvious that people who are hiring and making these rules of non-native speakers have either no clue that being a native speaker doesn't mean you automatically are a good teacher or they are only interested in having a ”trophy” teacher, someone who is not required to really teach. In all fairness this is exactly what I've been doing for the past year: my school obviously knows my origin but the managers decided to lie to all the staff and the students' parents because ”they would prefer a native speaker”. It was my first week here in China when my manager told me that they have informed everyone that I come from the UK, so they suggested that I think of a story: what city I come from, where I went to school, etc. I was gobsmacked and must say I did not have very nice thoughts of them at that point. In a way it's like living in a constant lie, having to undermine my true nationality.

What I have come to realize working in China is that one of the reasons they want a native speaker to teach them English is because they feel like they can just be in my presence and ”absorb” the language... Yes, it sounds ridiculous and it certainly is just that. But I have been told by the staff in my school that even though they speak barely a word of English now, they're convinced that they'll learn just by listening to me speak – without even interacting with me. So there definitely is a magical X factor there that they're hoping to catch... I wonder how deceived they would feel if they found out I was in fact not a native speaker at all. Would the ”magic” be lost?

So what do to with this pickle? I know for a fact that I'm not alone with this issue of discrimination towards non-native teachers. I know there are companies that are smart about hiring teachers: they require that your level is high and you're a professional – which is exactly how it should be everywhere. I also know there is more and more talk about this unfair factor in the job market and hence I believe the more discussion there is the better chance there is to make a right out of this wrong.

In the meantime I will try to get away with what my English professor told me as a piece of advice if asked in a job interview whether I'm a native speaker: "just say 'yes'."

https://www.facebook.com/quirkyteacher

He loves me (not)

Abuse.

A simple, little word hiding so much inside. Including prejudice.

This is my own story about abuse.*


Before I got into an abusive relationship I always thought that people who end up in them - and worse of all, STAY in them - are weak and pathetic individuals. In general I think of myself as a kind-hearted, tolerant person but that was genuinely how I felt about abuse victims before. "Why don't they just leave?" I would think out loud. After all, how could anyone who had any self respect or dignity in them allow someone to abuse them?
Little did I know.

When my ex boyfriend started showing signs of abuse - or more correctly I started noticing them - I did what majority of women do; try to rationalize it, make excuses and explain it all away. "He's just stressed", I would tell myself and others, "he has a bit of a temper" or "he's not normally like that". I didn't realize at the time that this was in fact a classic example of the beginning of an abusive relationship.

Like in many other abusive relationships, the beginning was wonderful. Almost too good to be true in fact: he was like a prince charming who would tell me every day how wonderful I am, how I was the only one for him and he was constantly making big plans for our future - everything was also moving along quite fast. It was magical and wonderful.

But very suddenly all that started to change. He got jealous. REALLY jealous. He didn't want me to spend any time or even talk about other men. Little by little he started to isolate me from my friends as well. We moved to a house in the middle of nowhere which made it difficult for me to see many of my friends. Then his need to control me got stronger. He would text or call me throughout the day to find out where I was and who with.
A big issue for us was also money: I was supporting him financially. To be honest I have no clue how that happened.

We moved in very fast after meeting each other and he kept making excuses about money and postponing chipping in on our mutual costs, so I ended up paying for rent, food, petrol for both our cars, also lending him money almost on daily basis for "stuff". Obviously as a good girlfriend my responsibilities were also cooking and cleaning. He expected dinner to be served every night and his lunch to be packed ready every morning. At first this didn't raise any alarm bells because I'm a person who enjoys to fuss and look after the people I love. But after a while I realized that I was being taken for granted and like a dictator he expected these things from me without asking or thanking me.
I later found out that abusive men are very good at manipulating people and they make you feel very guilty if you don't go along with their wants and needs.

As I'm an independent person and also a great believer in equality I always stressed the fact that me paying for everything was a very short-term personal loan: he would have to pay me back sooner or later. I wouldn't budge or let him sweet talk me into forgetting about it - and hence the money issue came a real problem. Although he was working 50+ hours a week as a tradesman and getting paid seriously better than me as a part time receptionist, he would still seem to have no money... After a month or so living together and still having none of his financial support I had no more patience. I told him as a matter of fact that we are equal and he has to start chipping in. He was furious.
It's funny how most abusive men make a big deal about being "the Man" and the provider in the family but in fact 99% of them will try to financially get on top of you by making you pay for everything: leaving them the upper hand as they have not invested any money on the relationship.
For the abuser this is important because he will feel like he's in control. He now owns you because you have no money and he does.

It was very confusing living with someone who you slowly realized was not quite what he pretended to be - yet being already in love with the person made it tormenting.
His need to own me was frightening. His obsession to have me and control me became obvious and it also came as a surprise. How could a person who says he loves you do that? I was torn between wanting to believe in him, trusting his convincing words and opening up my eyes and seeing the facts for what they were.

I wouldn't say I was afraid of him - I am perhaps a bit boneheaded that way - but that was before The Day came, the worst of them all, when all the horridness culminated. He got furious because I refused to buy him beers from the supermarket. So furious that he started smashing things inside our apartment. Shouting at me, barking insults (that was the first and the last time he called me "a whore") and as if that wasn't enough when I told him he had five seconds time to stop and apologize to me he got quiet and sinister, walked up to me very slowly, wagging his finger in my face and spitting out "you better f*cking shut your mouth, or else..". And with that, he turned around and left.
He smashed a few more things as he went, almost breaking the glass door as he slammed it. I couldn't breathe. I looked around me and saw what my life really looked like. It was a mess.

I wish I could say it was easy leaving him. After he left that night he kept sending me spiteful, horrible messages - constantly tormenting me and telling me what a bad woman I was and how no one else would ever take me. He called himself "the best you will ever had". I was trembling. Afraid. I realized he wouldn't let me go, I would have to flee.

Would it surprise you to hear that by the next morning I had changed my mind? I had decided to give him "one last chance". (And I assure you there had been many.) I told a handful of people I could trust what had happened. They tried to talk some sense into me, saying I was in danger and I should leave while I could. I remember breaking down crying, sobbing something about how he deserves a chance, just one more. Luckily I was surrounded by wonderful, strong women who talked some sense into me. The next day as he left for work, I secretly packed my things and left our home. And I was so incredibly lucky to have a safe place where I could return: a house full of friends who loved and cared for me. They understood me when I would tremble every time the front door would open or if I started to cry without any apparent reason. I was scared. Terrified. And when he realized I was gone later that night the messages and calls I received made me a human wreck. I couldn't sleep because I had to get up every five minutes to check if my door was locked. I was sure it was only a matter of time before he'd find me. After all, I knew how bad he could get.

Leaving an abusive partner was possibly the hardest thing I've ever done. I went from a happy-go-lucky girl into a fearful bunch of nerves who was afraid to walk alone on the streets in the fear of bumping into him.
Luckily the local police took me seriously and did everything to make sure I was safe. It was the police who directed me to a safe house/abuse centre where I was able to go and talk to professionals. Even if in the beginning it was mostly hysterical crying instead of talking. It took 3 months of therapy to get back on my emotional feet. And I owe it all to my therapists at the safe house: after our sessions came to an end I was back to my old self, or dare I say: even more brave and confident than before. I was no longer afraid of him. In saying that it did take me a long while to trust another man again.

Alas, time is a healer. I have stopped blaming myself. For a long time I felt like it was all my fault because I was so weak and stupid to fall for his charms and lies.
Which brings me to a sad side note. When I returned to my home country to see my old friends and family, I felt just about brave enough to tell them honestly what had happened. My family had been incredibly supportive since the beginning but it was the reaction I got from some of my oldest friends that completely took me by surprise...
"What do you mean he was abusive? But he'd never hit you? What DID he do then?" were some of the shocking questions I got from friends back at home... I nearly choked: I had just opened up my soul and revealed the most darkest fears in me and they looked at me dubiously and questioned WHY I WAS AFRAID!? I felt so betrayed. And when I tried to hold the tears back and explain to them that not all abuse is physical, that emotional abuse can actually be just as bad if not worse, they wouldn't let it lie. "How can someone be abusive if they don't actually hit you..?" I wanted to scream. I was still in the middle of my therapy and I felt like they brought me back to square one. I felt possibly even more ashamed of myself than ever before.
I try not to blame these friends too much anymore for their ignorant words and pestering questions. After all, they are naïve and hence lucky because they have never had to encounter anything as dark and scary as abuse. And I hope they never will.

Abusive relationship and getting over it has been a life lesson for me. I sure didn't want it, but in a way I'm glad because it did make me stronger than before.

I hope my story can be a part of the important cause of telling people about abuse. It's not always easy to see who's in need of your help. My ex partner never laid a finger on me but his aggressive and demeaning presence haunted me long afterwards: naked to the eye.

All abuse victims don't have black eyes or broken ribs.

More about abuse on this website www.loveisrespect.org

*I have not gone into too much detail about the abuse I went through. Partly because it would make this blog post very long and also because it is still incredibly painful.

My favourite mornings

I'm not a morning person.

But sometimes something magical happens... I get lucky and my mind plays tricks on me as I move from the dream world to the conscious one, feeling like a bear who's just waking up after a long winter of slumber. And in that split second before opening your eyelids you're in a haze, not entirely sure where you are - or when.

It only takes an instant but it's enough time for the mind to start scrolling the film roll of life: am I waking up in a safari tent in the outback; or in my old rusty camper van; or perhaps on a sofa at a stranger's house who has shown me such kindness that we have become lifelong friends.

Or am I waking up in that luxurious Las Vegas casino hotel to a scorching summer day; or possibly wrapped in the arms of a special someone who made my days on the road oh so sweet - even if just for a short time.

Indeed, I'm not a morning person but sometimes I get lucky and wake up not remembering where I am or when. These are my favourite mornings.

Is Couchsurfing.com dangerous?

Couchsurfing.com is a website connecting people who either travel and/or wish to meet travelers from other countries and cultures, welcoming travelers into their homes. In short: you invite strangers from different parts of the world to come stay in your home for a few days. Sounds pretty radical when you put it like this, but the concept is brilliant.

As Couchsurfing is a traveling community based on good will, no money changes hands. Strangers from all over the world will offer you their homes just so they could meet interesting new people and potentially make friends - and also so when they go traveling themselves they will enjoy the hospitality of others. Quoted from the couchsurfing.com website: "We envision a world made better by travel and travel made richer by connection. Couchsurfers share their lives with the people they encounter, fostering cultural exchange and mutual respect."

The website has been around for over a decade and I first started using it with my friend when we left traveling five years ago. In 2010 Couchsurfing was still a non profit organization before it was sold and changed to a profit making machine. This, I truly believe, was a mistake.

We are always warned by strangers: when we're young our parents tell us not to talk to strangers or go with them under any circumstances. When we grow older we automatically fear strangers - who knows what dangers are lurking behind those seemingly average faces. And it's smart, obviously, as we know the world is not a perfect place. There are rapists, murderers, phedophiles, scam artists, kidnappers and traffickers, you name it, they're all out there.

But to not turn into a complete cynic with no faith in the human race, we have communities that we join in order to feel safe and happy. For many years Couchsurfing was a community I was not afraid to use: I have "couchsurfed" with dozens of people in several different countries all around the world and even if we didn't become best friends with all of my hosts, most of the time I felt comfortable and completely safe. I have met many friends while couchsurfing and made even more memorable acquintances - each and every person I would not have met without the website! I have a lot to be grateful for: I trusted strangers and they showered me with hospitality, making my travels truly unforgettable.

Though it's not all rainbows and giggles, Couchsurfing is still like anything in life: you have to keep your common sense with you. Four years ago was the first time I encountered a person who marred my Couchsurfing experience: an older man of 50+ years of age, who invited himself to my bed while I was couchsurfing at his house and tried to kiss me several times while I kept pushing him away, repeatedly saying "no". I'm a strong personality and have bucket loads of self confidence, so I managed to get out of a potentially dangerous situation. I couldn't stop thinking what if... But for a long time this remained the only bad experience I had with Couchsurfing.
Then last year I had a very similar thing happening: a man of 65 years old that was my host had been very flirty with me for a few days before he finally crossed the line and said he thought I was very attractive and wanted to lick my toes. LICK MY TOES!!! Needless to say I locked my bedroom door that night and very quickly got out of his house.

It seems that the negative issues have truly escalated this year. My very recent trip to Japan was something I anticipated very much and I started planning my trip on the Couchsurfing website: searching for like-minded people that could offer me accommodation, I was mostly contacted by younger men who seemed dubious: my gut feeling was telling me not to trust majority of these people. One man actually told me that his previous couchsurfers have shared a bed with him because he has no extra bed to give to people who stay with him...! WHAT? Obviously he only invited young, attractive girls to stay with him. I was horrified.

And then it happened. I was in Tokyo and had agreed to couchsurf at Japanese man's home: he seemed normal and nice from the very beginning when he first invited me to come and stay with him. So I kept emailing with him to see if I would get a bad vibe or if there was something off-putting about him to raise the "stranger danger" alert in my head. No such thing came up, so I agreed to stay with him for 4 nights.
I met him in the busiest station of the world, the Shinjuku station in Tokyo, during rush hour. It was bustling. He was dressed in a suit, I thought him a business man, and he seemed nice. After short introductions we were chatting and started heading off towards his house. After a few minutes of walking he told me casually that "you can't come couchsurfing in my house because my parents don't approve of it. So I have booked us a hotel room. There is only one bed though, that's OK?". I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My feet automatically stopped. I was gobsmacked. I gaped at him and in the midst of the bewilderment and utter disbelief I asked him to repeat it: maybe his English wasn't that good or I had misunderstood. He confirmed: only one bed for the two of us. I felt betrayed, shocked, disgusted. I couldn't believe what a weasel this man was. To be 100% sure I wasn't mistaken, I asked him "Did you book this hotel room because you thought I would have sex with you?" and he simply looked me in the eye and said "Yes".
After that good many things happened. The most important thing was that I was safe: we were still around the Shinjuku station so there were literally millions of people around us. I told him what a disgusting human being he was and how dare he take advantage of people's trust, trying to USE me!

That was just what Couchsurfing is NOT supposed to be, but if you are not careful it could happen to you. I remember sitting on the street in Shinjuku, thinking to myself "how did this happen?" and crying. Tears of disappointment, anger, even fear. After a few minutes I picked myself up and made a new plan but looking back I understand that I was in a state of shock. This time I was lucky: the creep revealed his disgusting plans to me while we were still in a public place and I could turn around, say no.

After this experience I have started to think about Couchsurfing differently. After the non-profit Couchsurfing website was turned into a money making machine a few years ago, they have changed for the worse. I didn't use to be afraid using the Couchsurfing website but now I'm cautious: I will carefully read the profile of the person, what other couchsurfers have said about them and also from now on if I get the slightest bad vibe, I will turn people down.

In a nut shell: I absolutely recommend Couchsurfing - but I also recommend listening to your gut and having loads of common sense. And even after that keep your sensors on. Always.