Home-Cooked Meals

When you’re living away from home for awhile, you start to miss the food from home. Whether it’s fast food or family recipes, there is always a hole that I want to fill. How best to do that? Cook it yourself!

Sometimes they go REALLY well and I feel like I’m home again. But also… they sometimes go very terribly.

Most recently, I tried my hand at making Tostitos Con Queso dip (salsa with cheese) which is my go to dip with tortilla chips back home. The UK is seriously lacking when it comes to nacho cheese dip sold in stores. The options are basically between a disgusting Doritos cheese dip and nothing. The only places I have found a good nacho dip is at Odeon and Showcase cinemas and, most recently, Tortilla. I would bathe in their cheese given the chance. But those cheeses are no good because they’re not in my home! So I figured that I would find a recipe online and make it myself.

I went and bought bare ingredients for a Tostitos knock-off dip — my least favourite part of that dip is the salsa chunks so I skipped that, which wasn’t the big mistake. When I got the ingredients, I had pumpkin pie on my mind, which I was thinking of making but was too slow on the pumpkin purchase, and pumpkin pie requires condensed milk. The Tostitos knock-off required evaporated milk. The two are very similar… except that condensed milk is sweeter and is also the one I got. I didn’t realise my mistake until I poured the milk in. I went through with the dip, hoping it would turn out. It did not. It’s in my fridge now because it’s so much to waste, but… so gross.

The UK really only has white cheddar cheese, which made this look even worse.

It was a sad loss because earlier this week I also tried making jackfruit pulled pork and failed terribly at that. First off, who knew jackfruit was that colour?! It looked so unappetising. I had made this same recipe before with an actual pork roast, but I don’t buy meat anymore so I’m just like… stuck. The recipe came from a pre-mixed package of spices and the pork had been so good. But it was not so good with jackfruit. And that’s what I’m stuck eating all week because there’s no way I’m going to waste more money and food. Besides, it’s okay with a lot of butter and some lot of cheese.

I love food. I just wish I could have the same food overseas as I have back in Canada.

It’s not all bad though.

One of my greatest achievements was when I was in Thailand around Christmas time. I lived in a tiny bachelor apartment, which was essentially a bedroom and a bathroom. I had a hotplate and a toaster oven for my kitchen, but that was it. However, I love baking around Christmas time. So, armed with nothing but a bowl and a toaster oven, I got to work making sugar cookies. I didn’t have any measuring cups or rolling pins or anything, so it was all by eye and hand (I’m pretty good at guestimating even with baking). Then, in my toaster oven, I could bake four cookies at a time. So I did. And I decorated them. And I shared them. And they were delicious. It was a good time.

Thinking back, I think it’s mostly cooking that I fail at (at least when it comes to replicating) but baking is where I succeed.

Unfortunately, most of the things you love from home can’t be replicated in another country. For example, trying to make apple crisp (here, called apple crumble) like the apple crisp at home is impossible because the apples aren’t the right amount of sweet.

A lot of things are available on Amazon (for a price — Tostitos cheese is nine pounds!) but even that usually doesn’t end up tasting the same.

I can’t wait for my trips home in the summer so that I can gorge on all the bad food that my body is happy to have given up.

Why I Decided to Stop Teaching

The only reason I was able to come to the UK was because of teaching and the opportunities it offered me. And that was pretty well always the plan: get a teaching degree to work and travel in other countries.

In my third year (of six) of uni, I saw an ad for TimePlan Education on the student job board and decided that I would, someday, move to the UK with the company so that I could experience Europe. At first, I had intended to make the stay permanent and remember daydreaming about packing all of my worldly possessions and shipping them to the UK (I definitely looked up and cringed at shipping costs). I don’t think I had told many people my plan to do this, so it was something just for me.

In March 2016, I got into a car accident and my car was written off, giving me enough money to pay off my destroyed car, get a new one for work, and… travel to the UK?

I had met with a man from TimePlan one snowy day earlier — I don’t really remember when — and I had been mulling it over for awhile, especially after returning from teaching in Thailand and having the travel bug. The car accident gave me the funds that I would need for a visa, plane ticket, and accommodation deposit.

I had a job, but it was a daily pay rate through the agency, which meant that every time there was a school break (they have a lot of those out here), I didn’t get paid, so it was very difficult. Add to the fact that I didn’t fully understand the education system, exams we were using, or the students, and I did not have a good time.

But I kept at it and moved to Essex where I had a better time. Until I didn’t.

One of my major weaknesses as a teacher was always marking. I would see some people fly through and I would just be there struggling through. In my first year at the secondary school, I tried to get there as early as I could (later in the winter but maybe 7 when the sun was out). I had to walk 45 minutes to work and 45 minutes home because I was salty about the buses, so it took me a while. I would generally stay until 5.30 every night to ensure that I got all planning and marking done.

Then in my second year, I still got there early — especially after getting a bicycle that cut down the journey to 20 minutes to and 20 minutes from — but I left at 4PM every day — sometimes even 3.45 if I was really eager to get out. I’m not even really sure what changed, but I didn’t put as much effort into it at all. Part of it might have been starting a few weeks after school began because of visa issues. I had been so excited to start my second year somewhere, feeling comfortable with the building and expectations and students and curriculum. And all of my expectations fell flat. Even now, I get a little teary-eyed because I remember that excitement and that disappointment.

I felt overwhelmed by the behaviour, the sheer amount of marking, and feeling more or less isolated. I don’t make friends easily or at all (which is why it’s amazing that I actually went on a date that lead somewhere) so although I was friendly with my colleagues, I wasn’t their friend. I didn’t feel comfortable going out with them somewhere and avoided work parties and gatherings because I felt completely out of place, having only had actual conversations with a handful of people. So I think the feeling of stress coupled with no support system (not like I had in Derby with a houseful of stressed Canadian teachers), it all started to cave in on me.

By the end of the school year (April-July), I found myself crying weekly and congratulating myself for not crying on certain days. It was all to myself of course, but it weighed on me. I wanted to be a nice person, I wanted my students to enjoy my lesson, I wanted my students to like me, and I wanted to do well, but I felt like such a failure constantly.

There was one point where I was just too stressed to work, so started packing up cards from the previous year that I had put on my bulletin board. I read some of the things students had said that were so kind and complimentary and broke down crying because I didn’t feel like that person for most of my classes.

I had started taking more sick days because the thought of facing the same issues day-in-day-out was too much for me. And that’s after feeling like I had improved my behaviour management from the year before! After one sick day, I returned to work and was cleaning up the mess that always appeared after a supply teacher because they didn’t have courtesy to not make a gigantic mess (side note: detentions would be in my room, run by the senior leadership team on Friday evenings and every Monday, without a doubt, my room was a disaster — wrappers on the ground, books strewn about, paper left behind, tables and chairs moved, etc. I always thought it so disrespectful of them to leave it a giant mess when it wouldn’t get cleaned until Monday evening because of that detention). On one of the tables, somebody (I suspect I know who) wrote “I hate Ms Peckham”. I wasn’t even there that day! And what was worse was that student after student had sat in that seat before I had seen it and no one thought that they could get rid of it. And I know it was just a petty thing meant to get under my skin and that I shouldn’t have let it, but I did. There was a student at school early and hanging out in the room, so I left and went to another teacher’s room and cried in the cupboard before anyone got there. I still feel like dirt about it because that’s never what I wanted.

I know I should have leaned on some of my coworkers to vent but I just didn’t feel close enough to anyone. I’ve always struggled to open up and let myself be vulnerable, so it was always just an internal struggle.

Because of all of this, I decided to leave. I’m still in a school and teacher to a degree, but I don’t have to run my own classes and I don’t have to mark. I don’t have to discipline students enough for them to hate me and I can leave a more positive mark on the school as a Librarian.

Also, I’m technically a ‘Library Manager’, which sounds and feels more important.

After the first year. I forced this student with anxiety to perform her speech without giving her prep time to worry about it. She hated it, but still gave me this, so…

After the first year. The kindest person you’ll ever meet.

This was from the one class that kept me sane and made me feel appreciated in my second year. I wrote each of them cards and little bits of inspiration and observation I had about each individual person. I was originally going to do it for my form group as well but too many of them were the cause for the tears and I couldn’t just give cards to those who had been kind to me. The year 10s and I both had the same idea and gave each other the cards on one of the last classes we had together and I almost-cried in front of them all (good tears). They are going to do great things.

 

From Canada to Thailand

We were late to the airport.

No, we were on time but were made late by a stop at Tim Horton’s and family goodbyes.

My mom, in tears, rolled out a piece of paper as an afterthought. She had made it some time before — a sign saying goodbye. My sister was crying too. We didn’t always get along, but for some reason, she was sad to see me go.

Eventually, I had to break away from they and the rest of my family members who had come to say goodbye.

Joining the line for security, I refused to cry. I was strong and the public would not see me weep. Mostly because I knew if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And that would be a massive embarrassment when I joined the plane with 20-odd peers all heading to the same place: Thailand.

The land of smiles.

To say the flight was painful would be an understatement. Who knew one could be so tired from so much sitting?

From Winnipeg to Vancouver: 2 hour flight, 6 hour layover.

Vancouver to Seoul, South Korea: 14 hour flight, 2 hour layover.

Seoul to Bangkok, Thailand: 6 hours

The airport to our home: 2 hours? At this point, it’s all a seatbeltless blur.

When we arrived in Bangkok, things were a lot more “normal” than I had expected. I knew nothing of Thailand and really only chose that option because of the promised salary. I wanted to travel and the only thing that could stop me was money (or lack thereof), so I had to find ways around it.

Things weren’t as dirty as I had thought they’d be. All of my information came from Bridget Jones, The Impossible, and The Hangover 2. Other than that, I knew nothing of Thailand (and what did I really know from that?).

It was 11.30PM when we arrived in Bangkok. We had been travelling for over 24 hours and were exhausted. But nothing in Thailand is done halfway and they love pictures.

We all got together for a groggy group picture and I remember buying a banana from the airport 7-11. If Thailand succeeds at anything, it’s 7-11. It seemed excessive at first, having a 7-11 on every block (or less), but grew on me and became expected and missed when I left.

Finally, we were free to leave the airport. The doors slid open and out we went– BAM!

Humidity hit me. It was like walking head-on into a brick wall.

Winnipeg could get humid and you could feel like you were melting, but it was nothing compared to tropical humidity, which I found would be a constant in my life over the next 10 months. A constant that I would miss, even now.

Sticky moisture clung to my sweater, which I dare not remove lest the scent of travel be released. I would suffer — only for a short time.

We were loaded into vans which would take us to our homes in the next 2 hours and the A/C was on full blast — something I would come to hope against in the coming months.

Arriving at our new home in the dead of night, the pictures began to come alive. There on the left: the pool. I looked forward to being there all the time! (I wouldn’t be there all the time). Straight ahead: the office. There, I would pay my utilities and borrow the spare key to my room so I could have the key maker on the street replace the one I lost. Around the corner: the courtyard and apartment building. This is where I’d spend the next near-year.

Fragrant tropical flowers floated around me as I stumbled from the van back into humidity. It was familiar to me as I struggled to overcome the mounting culture shock. Back in Winnipeg, I loved to go to our wonderful zoo, which had a Tropical House. Thailand smelled exactly like that place and I was comforted for a little bit.

The next 2-3 hours were spent learning about the building complex (whatever they had said most definitely went in one ear and out the other) and moving our belongings into our rooms. We were an active bunch.

It was 5AM before I was finally able to contact my mom and tell her I had made it there safely.

Everything was in my room, but would not be moved until the next ‘day’ when I woke up. At 3PM.

I slept that night with the A/C blasted and a blanket acting as my sheet on the hard, surprisingly comfortable, Thai bed.

I woke up to people in the hallways doing various activities and almost had a heart attack when I saw that it was mid afternoon already. An entire day wasted.

My fingerprints were supposed to be scanned at either 10AM or 3PM, so I was up just in time… A useless endeavour as my fingerprints turned out to be nearly non-existent.

Culture shock was real. I didn’t know what to eat or where to go or how to get anywhere. I walked around the complex, taking pictures of the place for my family back home. I cried in my room, sleep-deprived and feeling like I would starve because I didn’t like Asian food (I will continue to blame the sleep-deprivation and jet lag for this). I ate Frosted Flakes from 7-11 (a godsend) along with milk  that was too sweet and crackers that were disgusting.

I would soon find that 7-11 had the best sandwiches and would live off of these for the next little while.

Motorcys drove on the sidewalks and you had to be constantly vigilant. Stray dogs were the norm. While the streets were clean, there was still an occasional smell of… something. You would hold your breath from a moment while you continued.

Thailand’s King was deeply respected. If you were walking the streets at 6PM, you’d have to stop for the King’s Anthem. It was strange at first, but really interesting later on. When he died, I felt a stab of sorrow. He was a man who did many great things for his people and the respect for him was learned and ingrained in Thai society.

From what little I had seen of Thai society, I did not expect the people I encountered. Everyone was extremely polite — it was bizarre walking next to a busy street that was compact with cars and people trying to get places without anyone honking. People were friendly in the area I was living — they were used to expats and tried their best to understand us while be tried our best to understand them. If you want to become a charades master, spend a year in Thailand.

Thailand is referred to as The Land of Smiles and it’s not hard to see why. I would find that even with the stress of teaching and classes and homesickness, Thailand would help me feel at peace; like I was on constant vacation. It’s hard to be sad when the sun and warmth is so comforting and the people so welcoming.