Working 7-6, what a way to make a living.

Quito Travel Blog

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Before beginning my list of both professional and personal grievances I would like to set aside a moment to discuss a curious entity that has entered my life. She is known simply as 'Crazy Neighbour Lady', the reason for this being that she is quite simply insane. Before I continue, I must state that all our interactions take place in Spanish, and she either doesn't care or hasn't noticed that many of my contributions are irrelevant and/ nonsensical.

Highlights of her mentalness include:

Accosting me as am innocently sunbathing in garden, and presenting me with a Barbie (she was very pleased by this, though she does know that I am 22, and not 8).

Making me sell her my 5 pound note (and paying me back in installments).

Asking me whether picture on front of 5 pound note was Margaret Thatcher.

Obviously, she is a hilarious addition to my life, and when am not beng unreasonably grumpy, feel nothing but grateful for her presence. Equally, CNL (as she will henceforth be known) wants me to give her English lessons, as when she asked what I do, I foolishly told her, showing what can only be described as a disastrous lack of foresight.

And so, aside from observing, and recording CNL's various activities, what do my days consist of? Well, as do not have TV, am reading many books (more so than normal I mean)- this, whilst undoubtedly good for my soul, is less good for my sense of humour, and as a result those poor unfortunates who spend their time with me. On the other hand, English book shop man is a good pal of mine, and does not mind that I try and make him part with his books for a much smaller amount of money than he intends. Well, says I, 'am Ecuadorian peasant now, what do you want from me? blood?' He incomprehensibly, was somewhat taken aback by this offer, and declined.

Oh yes, I also go to work. And this I do a lot more frequently than a hedonistic traveller, by rights, ought to.

Bizarre as it must seem to all of you people in rainy England I have come to the conclusion that I need a holiday. This by the way, absolutely does not include any students who might be reading this because, as we all know, your lives are a holiday. As such, am deciding whether or not to take last week before return to England off work and be real travelling and hippy type person as opposed to normal working person who just happens to be located in Quito. My only concern regarding this delightful plan is that am already returning to England bit earlier than first thought to go bloody skiing, and no doubt, wear a Christmas jumper... good grief.

For marketing job, am now writing articles about the wonders of the Galapagos Islands. It must be said, they are lovely. The only unfortunate element is that have gathered this information solely from internet, as have never set foot on any of the bloody things. Harrumph. Obviously, should the opportunity arise will make case for getting sent their for research purposes (ha). Should this happen I will send you all postcards... I promise. Again, those of you that know me well, will have gathered by this that the chances are slim indeed, because I do hate writing postcards. Whilst lovely to get, they are tedious in the extreme to write, and I am selfish and badly behaved.

A certain family member of mine is presently at dance college, and I am jealous. My utterly natural response to this, is to make my students put on a show, regardless of whether or not they may wish to. One thing that is nice about teaching English is that, as long as you do it properly, almost any topic is justifiable in terms of fluency, vocabulary and pronunciation. So, they have all selected an English song, and half my classes have been transformed into rehearsals. This pleases me greatly, as I do not like the time after which have set the students work, when I have no one to talk to.

It has by the way, both irrelevantly and irreverantly, been confirmed that Boss is having an affair with Secretary... bloody Latinos.

Anyway, it is almost 10 o'clock and in my new life as an utter sad act, this means it is nearly bed time. My final thought however, is that next time you are in the grip of anti- England fervour, just think about, and be grateful for, how lovely it is to be in a country full of tall people speaking English.

It is indeed the little things you miss.

Muchos gracias, y buenos noches.


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photo by: Bluetraveler