sofasurfers

Knowledge of a couchsurfing school in the neighbouring town eventually
lured me like a vampire to blood. (Sadly, a couchsurfing school is not
where you get to learn couchsurfing etiquette for once and for all,
but instead, here in Yangshuo, in Guangxi province, a private English
school where couchsurfers are welcome to stay for even months at a
time, with free lunch and dinner, in exchange for making weekly
speeches to the students and participating in daily English Corners,
where all gather to chat in English.) And my, do the couchsurfers get
a good deal: we are put up in the students’ ‘dormitory’ (read: 3-star
hotel-esque establishment complete with English expressions at every
single step
where I shared a twin bedroom with an ensuite, large TV and DVD
player, and in-room hot-water dispenser – tea on tap!).
Because I’d left it so late (like, “Hello, is it OK if I come this
afternoon?”), and wasn’t going to be there for a single English
corner, I urgently needed to attend to my side of the bargain.
“Perhaps,” I offered in pathetic, unblinking earnest, “I can help out
in the school kitchen? [Can you imagine?! I was seriously up for
this.] Perhaps I can play badminton with the students? [Ditto.]
Perhaps I can help in the office?”
“Well, you could call our previous students to see if they would like
to come back to study,” says Charles, the school’s manager. “Try and
get into a conversation with them. Ask them how about the weather, ask
them how about their job.” Great, I said, in genuine delight; how
hilarious, I said in silent aside.
So I was set up with a spreadsheet of names and numbers and a script
(”Hello, this is [your name] from Zhuoyue [jo-yoo-eh] English
School… Welcome back to Zhuoyue when you have free time.”
Unexpectedly, it was a most rejuvenating experience – suddenly, I felt
like I was 22 again: like I’d just graduated, and was dithering about
in dead-end temping work… Because, yes, of course, it’s the task
that is so awful they have to get a temp in to do it. Most of the
numbers didn’t work. Of the 11 numbers I called, I got through to just
one boy, “John”.
Hello, this is Fleur from Jo-yoo-eh English College! I was just
wondering how your English was coming along since you left the
college.
“Uh? Uh?”
[Repeat lines one and two.]
“Ha ha – I sorry. Very difficult. No understand.”
Ah! Hello. This. Is. Fleur. From. Jo-yoo-eh. English. College! How. Are. You?
“I working.”
Oh. Sorry. If. You. Are. Busy. There. Is. A. Forum. On. Jo Yoo-eh’s.
Website. Where. You. Can. Practise. Your. English. Shall. I. Spell.
It?
“J-O-H-N”
Lovely, thank you very much, John. Welcome back to Jo Yoo-eh when you
have free time!
Forcing a conversation with John just felt like a small torture for
him, so I leave it at that. I go to sing a song – or go to the loo in
Plain English – where I find three toilets, one of which is
Western-style. In the two Chinese-style ones (ie, hole in the ground),
there are English expressions pinned to the door: “More haste, less
speed”, “Great hope makes great man”.
On my return, I spot a British boy. Hello, I say, with the kind of
entitlement you feel when you chance upon a fellow minority. “Oh
you’ve been doing that ring-round,” he says. “I had to do that last
year. It’s a complete waste of time – complete waste of time.”
So I abort task and set about some real temping work (aka discreetly
doing my own thing). At which point, natch, Charles asks me how I’m
getting along with the list. Well, I say, with gusto and job pride…
Both quickly fall away as I run down the list of names and expose my
uselessness, until I’m left standing there, stark nakedly useless. Ah
– it made me feel so naughty and young again.
Footnote: I must add that my unrewarding experience was only a
self-inflicted punishment for deciding too late and leaving too early,
and not having the time to involve myself in the cultural exchange of
their English Corner. It’s clear that couchsurfers have a really
fulfilling time here, and many do stay for months, years even. My
lesson learnt at the Zhuoyue English School was Just Deserts. It’s
probably written somewhere on the door of one of their Chinese-style
toilets.