#the manager is also Very Insistent that I transfer to the location near my college when I move back there. for a minimum of 37 hours a week.

[sweet-as-kiwis]

I feel like I should be making a list of all the violations I’m seeing at work

[nananaptime]

Moon Struck

You are all beautiful, inside and out, remember that and never let anyone unworthy of your attention and affections bring you down with unnessecary comments <3 

Moon struck: Unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love

Masterlist Rules

Genre: Fluff all the way through

Word count: 1 980

Summary: When ones feelings are so intense, letting them out through creativity may be one of the most effctive ways of not getting submerged...

~

Dejun cast one last glance at you before shuffling his books, pencils and papers into his bag as the lecturer dismissed the students for the day. Not that Dejun had paid any attention to the content of the day’s lecture as it was the only class he had with you and not spending it basking in your presence was not an option. He had developed a talent for ignoring the lecturer’s pointy look. As he left the room, he tried pushing the image of you out of his head so he could focus on where he was putting his feet. It didn’t work and he managed to stumble as he glanced over his shoulder to where you were laughing with your friends, captivated by the smile displayed. 

Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he was to meet Kun in the library so they both could help Yukhei pass his economics exam. Why he decidedly chose that as his personal elective was something Dejun had asked himself since he started college. Yukhei was normally more into classes that matched his interests but never had he ever spoken a word regarding economics until he had applied for it. 

With his feet taking him in the direction of the campus library, his questions regarding Yukhei’s sanity soon turned into admiring images of your form, basked in sunlight as your nose was buried in a book. He hoped he wouldn’t run into you at the library, considering it’s one of your favourite places to spend your time, because helping his friend would be a lost cause with you distracting him at every corner. Not only did you occupy his mind every second of the day, but also his notebook in which he spent his time writing song lyrics. During the time it took for him to apply to literary history, meeting you and managing to fall for you every day anew afterwards, his notebook had increasingly turned into a lyric collection about you. He patted his bag, thankful for having somewhere to put it other than in complete visibility. 

The campus library was a building which interior was in Victorian style, with big stairs and an open area in the middle of the whole thing, enabling a view from the first floor all the way up to the seventh. It was bigger vertically rather than horizontally and was, without a doubt, one of the most impressive buildings on campus. Dejun headed for the stairs on the right, glancing over the titles in the bookshelves lining the wall while avoiding the seating areas as to not bump into them. With a polite nod and a smile to the librarian behind the counter, which was located between the two stairs, he ascended to the second floor where he knew Kun and Yukhei would be waiting for him. 

The sight of them had him snickering. In a hushed, library voice, Kun was leaning over the table pointing at a page in a book, his patience wearing thin, while Yukhei sat across from him, a confused expression glued to his face. Kun heaved a sigh as Dejun approached, who was unable to contain his laughter, before he slumped down onto his chair, fatigued by the attempt of pushing economical knowledge into Yukhei’s brain. 

“Hey! Thank goodness you’re here, maybe you can put this into words that Yukhei actually understands.” Yukhei only laughed at the pointed remark while Dejun sat down beside him, bringing the economics textbook towards him. 

Economics was, admittedly, not Dejun’s strongest suit, he was made of more creative components rather than mathematical and logical. Nonetheless, if he could help he would. After a while though, the numbers and strange terms started merging together and soon enough he had to lean back and close his eyes as he felt the days energy drain out of him. He felt Yukhei’s eyes on him throughout the whole ordeal.

“See! Not even Dejun understands this rubbish, how do you expect I should!?” With that, Yukhei closed the book and pushed it down the table. Kun gave him a fiery glare, daring him to continue down his chosen path of communication. 

Their bickering fell on deaf ears as Dejun’s head once again filled with images of you, his concentration ability was severely lacking ever since he entered the literary history lecture for the first time. He was truly looking forward to that class and was determined to pay attention, that is until you entered his field of vision and successfully executed your permanent residence in the middle of his frontal lobe. All the interest he had for literary knowledge was thrown out the window and replaced by imaginings of your life, your current activities and active emotions. It was driving him insane. 

As he felt his heart rate speed up as the images of your stunning features visualised themselves in his brain, he felt inclined to ease the strain on his heart and transfer the affections he had for you to paper. Hence, with the squabbling of his two friends fading further into the background, he opened his bag and reached in for his notebook, wondering whether or not he even had spare pages to write on or if he had filled it to the brim already. 

As he felt around for the familiar spiral binding of his heart’s sanctuary, the panic in his chest increased with every passing second. In a frenzy, he ripped his bag open and shuffled everything around with such vigour he feared something would rip apart, well, except for his state of mind which was already shredded to pieces. Kun and Yukhei flinched away from the table, their discussion long forgotten, as Dejun spilt the contents of his bag onto the table, frantically searching for the distinct yellow colour of his notebook. 

“Ok, uhm, Dejun… What is going on?” Kun reached for his friend’s arm but failed in his pursuit as Dejun lifted his hands and pulled his hair while his breathing became more laboured as the realisation that his notebook wasn’t in the bag hit him straight in the gut.

“It’s not here….” Kun gave him a confused look, silently enquiring for the absent object. As Dejun met his eyes, the reality of the situation kickstarted his functional movement. “It’s not here!” The realisation dawned on his two friends as he started throwing his belongings back into his bag. He barely registered when Kun took the bag from him and Yukhei replaced his hands in shuffling the contents together. 

“Dude, go!” Yukhei gave him an insisting look. “Go check the lecture hall, check everywhere, that is not the way one should reveal their crush on someone.” He pushed him towards the stairs and without another look back Dejun dashed down the staircase.

The lecture hall seemed to contain every other stationery except for his notebook. He checked under the seats, in the trashcan, inside and under the lecturer’s desk, even out the window just in case some disrespectful student had found it funny to see if it managed to stay airborne. 

The panic seemed a permanent state for him at the moment, and it only increased as he ran out of the lecture hall and straight into you. Both your bodies ended up sprawled on the floor, the only difference being you were surrounded by your belongings while he seemed the only resident of his occupied area of the floor. Once Dejun realised the state of your being he scrambled to his feet and offered you his hand, helping you up from the floor, which most likely was dustier than he wanted to admit. Your eyes met for a split second before he leaned down and started gathering your supplies. The fact that you soon joined him in the task caused his heart to pick up its pace once again, a phenomenon which now appeared normal in your presence. 

Dejun found himself blinded by your smile once you stood from the floor and it seemed near impossible to look away from your eyes. As he handed you your pile of books and papers he had collected, his eyes caught onto something similar to the yellow shade of the sun, a shade which he gazes upon every evening before turning out his lights.

All he could do was point and stutter as you accepted your belongings. A small giggle left your lips, Dejun thought his heart might soar away, and you fished his notebook out from between the middle of your possessions and gave it to him. He accepted with trembling hands, hoping against all odds that you hadn’t read anything. 

“You dropped it on your way from the lecture before, I see you with it all the time and thought it might be important.” He tried finding his voice but seemed unable to do so, hence he only stared at you, cautious worry evident in his eyes. “It was open on the floor when I found it and so I hope you didn’t mind that I caught some glimpses of the content.” He lost his breath as he realised what he had written had now been transferred to your consciousness. You smiled as the guilt shone through your exterior and Dejun found himself falling for you even more as he realised your concern for the potential invasion of his privacy. “They’re really good, you know. You have a certain way with words which, in my opinion, you shouldn’t keep locked away in the privacy of your notebook. At the very least, you should show it to the one it’s about. Anyone would be lucky to be on the receiving end of that kind of affection.”

Dejun realised then and there that you had no idea that the lyrics were about you, all of them. It was beyond him, how someone could be so unaware of their own importance, of their own effect on people, of their own beauty. As you gave a small wave and started your journey back to your dorm, he stopped functioning altogether. Without thinking or realising he had moved, he placed his hand on your shoulder, affectively informing you of his need to say something. Yet, when he gazed upon your features, he found himself tongue-tied once again. You giggled at his current state which seemed to pull him out of his trance and, with much difficulty, he managed to find his voice. 

“They’re about you.” You smiled at the shy nature of his being and grabbed his hand, squeezing it as to give him some strength to continue. “All of them, every single one. My concentration level in literary history is non-existent because of your presence. All that is important to me during those hours are to memorise your features so I don’t forget them until I see you next.” He felt some kind of pride as he noticed the blush spreading up your neck and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you reciprocated these intense emotions which were consuming his everyday life. 

As his words faded out, you brought your hand to his cheek before pressing a small kiss to the one which you weren’t touching. The nerves in Dejun’s body seemed to fry away at the connection between his skin and your lips. A smile of adoration was plastered on your face as you once again grabbed his hand in yours. 

“And here I thought your stares was caused by annoyance at my loud energy, it’s nice to know my feelings are reciprocated rather than rejected.” The sheer happiness which flowed threw Dejun’s body at your words forced him to look down to the floor as the emotions overtook him. 

And if there was something he knew right at that moment, walking down the halls, hand in hand with the love of his life, if he jumped from the roof of the building, he would soar.

[steveramsdale]

The “Teaching While Under the Influence of Tiredness Blog” Blog.

The “Teaching While Under the Influence of Tiredness Blog” Blog.

We had a really great weekend. I think I said last time that we had a plan. It was another wedding. However, this wedding was a long way away and in rural, backwater Uzbekistan. It was, in important respects, our first real Uzbek wedding.

A friend and colleague from work had invited us, and most of the staff, to go. However, it was a long way from Tashkent. You could drive for twelve hours or so or take a short (one hour) flight and then drive for a couple of hours. We flew. When we take domestic flights, we always seem to cause ourselves problems. This time, I put the wrong destination into our taxi app! This annoyed the driver and added time and £3 to our bill!

For the whole weekend we were completely looked after. Our friend Emily was with us, too. We were met at the airport by two young men. The both spoke English and were very pleased to be able to speak to native speakers. For many people we met, we were the first such creatures they had met. And, in a pattern-setting manner, would not take money when we stopped for lunch or for their time and petrol - and, as I said, it was a two/three hour drive.

This interjection is needed here. We had a wonderful time. However, the people of the outer reaches of Uzbekistan need to sort out their toilets. I will refer, with little detail, to this aspect.

We ate in a fast food place in their home town, only thirty minutes or so from the airport and then set off for the wedding venue. After an hour or so, inevitably, a ‘rest stop’ was needed. A man at the side of the road pointed us to a poly-clinic just off the road. The competition for worst toilet began with a strong contender.

Eventually we reached the village where the groom (s) (more in a moment) lived. We were shown to the guest/dining room where a feast was set out on the floor inside a square of what we call tapchan mattresses. We were soon taken to see the bride (one of), our friend. She was in her wedding dress and looked wonderful. A woman standing with her sang three little songs – one about each of us. Our friend, Mukadas, translated for us, between may bows. It is traditional for the bride to bow, holding out her veil, repeatedly to the guests and her new family.

And, of course, plates of plov appeared! Along with the feast already offered, we had much to go at.

We met a number of English speakers, all keen to talk to us, and we were introduced to our personal attendant – Sardor. I think he had been appointed to make sure we had everything we needed, to translate and generally assist. We ended up feeling a little sorry for Sardor who took this rle very seriously and did not leave us. I’m sure he could have had more fun at the wedding if he could have been with his friends! He also wanted to practise his English, so he was not without reward. Russian is much less widely spoken once you get away from Tashkent and Emily and I have not been the most diligent Uzbek students. My few phrases went down well!

We were told that we would be staying at this house, in this guest room. We practised our song (Mairi had been asked to sing at the wedding) and had a bit of a sing-song too. We also changed into our evening wear – the ‘do’ started at 6pm. I was informed that another ‘contender’ was found here. I decided to wait until we got to the restaurant.

After some waiting around, we set off and drove to a nearby town (20 minutes or so) and joined those already waiting for the guests of honour. We were, of course, subjects of great curiosity. The usual wedding band were playing. I checked the facilities and added contender number three. Going in a wedding dress would not be advised.

When the bridal party arrived, we were surprised to see two grooms and two brides. We had not realised that this was a double wedding. Mukadas was marring the younger of two brothers. The two couples were welcomed and brides began the bowing which would continue in a repetitive-strain injury-inducing manner for the next few hours. They bowed repeatedly and, occasionally, for no discernible reason. When not standing to bow, they sat looking very serious, as did the grooms. They smiled when friends went up (they were at an elevated table) for photographs, but otherwise they sat quietly and looking solemn. The brides never joined the fun. We sang ‘Songbird’ quite early, which was received. There was a range of entertainment and lots of dancing, but they did not join. Women danced together. Men danced together _ Uzbek men dance enthusiastically and, for the most part, with rhythm and skill. As the evening wore on and the vodka was poured and drunk, they became more enthusiastic. The grooms were enticed to join them once or twice!

There was a bride and groom (s) dance towards the end so the new wives got to move! The guests were (mostly) very friendly to us. Mairi and Emily joined in the dancing. I was (mostly) able to decline. Some of the invitations to join the dancing were very insistent!

Sardor did not leave us and was, at times, a bodyguard. We had some really good interactions and lots of people were really friendly and we managed to communicate with and without translators. There are some universal aspects to human interactions.

There was, of course, more food than would have been needed for double the number of guests.

When it was time to leave, we were taken to a different house! We were led to another guest room with the mattresses set out for sleeping. An immediately apparent problem was that our bags were at the other house. We asked about this and there was surprise that we might need the contents of these bags! The original house, we were told, was about 1km away (it was a little more), so Emily and I said we would walk round and collect our bags. It was now around 11:30pm – a time I have not seen since New Year’s Eve. We set off with, of course, Sardor. After about 10 minutes of walking, a car pulled up and we were driven to the house. There were difficulties finding a sober driver although some men drove home from the wedding after helping to ensure no vodka was wasted – they were. The house, however, was locked up still so we waited for a key holder.

Eventually we were reunited with our bags. We saw Mukadas -who had a sore back but seemed happy as a new bride. Then we proceeded to settle for the night. House number two boasted contender number four – round the back near the cows.

On Sunday, the hospitality continued. After some standing around and more talking we were taken to eat tasty somca for breakfast and then to the mountains to see some spectacular waterfalls. It was about a two-hour drive but the mountain roads have been damaged by some recent persistent and heavy rains. At one point we almost got stuck waiting for a lorry that was being loaded with rocks that had fallen on to the road. At around this point I started to think that I might have left my watch in the guest room. I had a couple of searches of my bag and spoke to (you guessed it) Sardor to ask if he could call our hosts to see if it was on the floor by my sleeping place. Mairi was only a little annoyed at my negligence!

The journey was worth it – the falls were beautiful and spectacular. There was another car with our friend’s new sister-in-law and her cousin who had been here tireless bride’s maid. There was also, growing wild, rhubarb, some of which we ate, some we brought back intending to make crumble. After this we assumed we would head to Turmez where the airport is located but we were incorrect. I have no idea of the relationship, geographically, between the places we went. We were taken back towards the wedding venue and for some lunch. During this time, someone contacted Sardor and he went to meet them to collect my forgotten watch.

The restaurant we went to did not have plov! Boo. We had another feast anyone with the most amazing soup! It was lovely to sit with these people who were laughing, teasing each other, enjoying the company. They spoke to us. They joked with each other. We were their guests and new friends.

For the whole of our time there, apart from the air-fairs, we were not allowed to pay for anything. Taxis, meals, accommodation – all arranged and settled without our involvement. We had been invited and so were taken care of. Mairi did manage to buy two bottles of water for us to have on our return trip. Sardor tried to pay but Mairi refused to allow him to. With one exception, everyone helping and hosting us were family or friends of the bride and groom (s). The exception was our final taxi driver. After the lunch, we got back in to the cars and set off once more. A short journey brought us to the edge of the town where it became clear that a ‘normal’ taxi was being secured for our airport trip. Some haggling took place. I saw a driver being given some money and we transferred our belongings to the taxi. There was a pile of books in the boot which, it turned out, was written by our taxi driver. He is a published author, college teacher and taxi driver! I was in the front of the car this time and he was a Russian speaker so we could chat a little. Sardor was still with us as he is a student in Termez during the week so was staying there. We had to stop for fuel at one point (methane) and Emily discovered the winner of the hard-fought competition.

And so it was that we said our goodbyes to our chaperone. He took Emily’s number and is hoping they can stay in touch so he can practise English with a native speaker!

The airport at Termez is beautiful and fairly new (I would guess) and…..has beautiful, clean, flushing toilets with soap and sinks and that sort of thing.

The plane was , of course, delayed, and so we got home well past my Sunday night bedtime. Just about the strangest thing of the weekend was that, on both flights, nobody stood up to start collecting their flight bags until the plane had completely stopped and the seatbelt lights had been turned off. This is very un-Uzbek behaviour!

Due to the busy-ness, late nights and travelling, we have both spent the week recovering but it was definitely worth the effort to meet such great people and experience the wedding. Mairi left something on the plane. It would appear that Uzbekistan Airways and Tashkent airport do not have an effective (or functioning) lost property system.

In other news……The van, at the moment, only seems to provide disappointing or negative news. I did get back on to the road but have once more taken myself off the road after seeing that I have a leak. I think it is transmission fluid but I need to get it checked. Yuri is recovering from having been ill – probably because of me. I know that (I hope that) it will become the source of interesting stories and adventure, but that time is not yet. There is work to be done.

I sometimes add notes to my phone as the week progresses about anything blog-worthy or that I think can be twisted to sound interesting. When I looked over it yesterday, there was a ‘sentence’ in nonsense Cyrillic. I must have had the Cyrillic keyboard on and have typed without looking at the screen. I could not remember what it was. Then, like the genius I am, I thought: I type with the English keyboard but copy the Cyrillic letters! You know I was a problem-solver of that calibre didn’t you? Let’s call it reverse-engineering. I hope this anecdote is worth that build up (it isn’t).

On the playground one lunchtime this week I was approached by students. This is common. They told me they had left something on a table while they went to eat. When they came back out it had gone. Another student told them that a girl with black hair had taken it. The case is expected to be solved soon.

And that’s it. A bit long again but a quiet weekend and week ahead are anticipated.

Bye for now.