Some of you may be wondering why this blog exists, some of you may
know perfectly why without even reading this post. But the vast
majority of you probably won’t care enough to scroll down this far. For
those of you who have taken the time, your reward is a story and a little
enlightenment into the world and mentality of the Little Knyaz.
My name is Tom Phillips, for those who don’t know already, and my whole life I have wanted nothing more than to see the world. Not as some bumbling, ignorant tourist, but to really see places; to live there and experience them the way those who reside there do. To meet wonderful new people and quite possibly to eat them out of house and home. Travel broadens the mind and speaks to the soul. That’s probably a quote, although I care not.
By this point, you probably have one of two opinions of me: either 1) that I’m either some kind of airy-fairy, naive middle-class boy who enjoys backpacking around South-east Asia, or 2) you may actually understand perfectly what it feels like to possess a certain kind of wanderlust. I would have to say though, the idea of spending my days bumming around Hanoi or Bangkok, or spending time in squat-houses somewhere in the jungles of South America or Africa never really appealled to me. Like a good Teutonic Knight I always thought of my future in the near-East; a place peculiar and beautiful but still distinctly European.
When I had finished my Military History degree at University I pondered a recommendation given to me by one of my tutors. He told me that in order to open my mind and learn more languages (which would help with my career plan at the time) I should go to foreign parts to teach English. At the time, I had decided on Spain but, as the ordinaryness of post-University life took its toll, my dreams of travel gradually faded away.
But deep-down, my nomadic soul had not died. Freshly envigorated after a series of life-misfortunes, I endeavoured to live the dream I had wanted since I was a nerdy, reclusive thirteen year old. I set my sights on the land of the bear, the land of the cold. Of Dostoyevsky, Tchaikovsky and Alexander Nevsky: the land of ancient Russia.
Fresh-faced and enthusiastic, I started out on my TESOL course in the beautiful city of Cheltenham. I however soon found out that life was not as easy here as I had hoped: the natives were rude and arrogant, and the course was a nightmare of never-ending phonemics and coffee fueled grammar lessons. Despite the difficulty I did enjoy myself a little bit, and I met some great people who I will never forget (and will probably play host to me next summer in warm mediterranean climates). On a side-note, the risotto balls in Cheltenham's Caffe Italia are absolutely to die for!
Skip to now. I am sitting here writing the first entry as I am about to embark on an adventure that will either consume me or mark me for life. I had originally intended to go to Russia, and I infact still do, but I am taking a slight detour. My first teaching position is in Karaganda, Kazakhstan. A place we shall explore more in my next post.
My name is Tom Phillips, for those who don’t know already, and my whole life I have wanted nothing more than to see the world. Not as some bumbling, ignorant tourist, but to really see places; to live there and experience them the way those who reside there do. To meet wonderful new people and quite possibly to eat them out of house and home. Travel broadens the mind and speaks to the soul. That’s probably a quote, although I care not.
By this point, you probably have one of two opinions of me: either 1) that I’m either some kind of airy-fairy, naive middle-class boy who enjoys backpacking around South-east Asia, or 2) you may actually understand perfectly what it feels like to possess a certain kind of wanderlust. I would have to say though, the idea of spending my days bumming around Hanoi or Bangkok, or spending time in squat-houses somewhere in the jungles of South America or Africa never really appealled to me. Like a good Teutonic Knight I always thought of my future in the near-East; a place peculiar and beautiful but still distinctly European.
When I had finished my Military History degree at University I pondered a recommendation given to me by one of my tutors. He told me that in order to open my mind and learn more languages (which would help with my career plan at the time) I should go to foreign parts to teach English. At the time, I had decided on Spain but, as the ordinaryness of post-University life took its toll, my dreams of travel gradually faded away.
But deep-down, my nomadic soul had not died. Freshly envigorated after a series of life-misfortunes, I endeavoured to live the dream I had wanted since I was a nerdy, reclusive thirteen year old. I set my sights on the land of the bear, the land of the cold. Of Dostoyevsky, Tchaikovsky and Alexander Nevsky: the land of ancient Russia.
Fresh-faced and enthusiastic, I started out on my TESOL course in the beautiful city of Cheltenham. I however soon found out that life was not as easy here as I had hoped: the natives were rude and arrogant, and the course was a nightmare of never-ending phonemics and coffee fueled grammar lessons. Despite the difficulty I did enjoy myself a little bit, and I met some great people who I will never forget (and will probably play host to me next summer in warm mediterranean climates). On a side-note, the risotto balls in Cheltenham's Caffe Italia are absolutely to die for!
Skip to now. I am sitting here writing the first entry as I am about to embark on an adventure that will either consume me or mark me for life. I had originally intended to go to Russia, and I infact still do, but I am taking a slight detour. My first teaching position is in Karaganda, Kazakhstan. A place we shall explore more in my next post.
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