23 February 2008

Post #29:  Strangers in a Strange Land

There are times when we wonder if we're still on Planet Earth.  Some really strange things have taken place here that make us feel like we've left to another world.  Thought we ought to document them for a good laugh someday.

Last week, DeDe and the kids had just returned from the “pitch” and a good game of futbol.  They put in a video and were enjoying a little restful afternoon, when a knock sounded at the door.  Rachel ran to answer, and then she called her mother to the door. 

DeDe went to the door to find two men standing there.  One, young and tall, dressed in a dark suit, looked likely to be from the Church of Latter Day Saints.   The other, shorter, and stout, and older, also in a suit which was likely purchased before DeDe was born, looked official with clipboard in hand.  The elder gent said, “Excuse us, but we are from the Office of Tourism.  We must inspect your flat.”  He flashed some kind of card at her, laminated with a symbol saying “Office of Tourism” on it. 

Dumbfounded, and caught completely off guard, DeDe just stepped back, allowing them entrance, and said, “Okay.”  They proceeded quickly toward the kids in the livingroom, and then DeDe dashed down the hallway, in the other direction, to shove the dirty clothes pile out of the path!  The laundry room, being in the bathroom, is too small for the piles of laundry we produce here, so it was spilling into the hall. 

The men took only a few minutes to walk through the flat.  Then they shouted down the hall, “Thank you.”  And they left. 

After giving it some thought, DeDe realized how foolish she was.  First of all, she should have requested some formal identification.  (She didn't because she wouldn't have known what it should look like in this country!)  She should have requested they wait until her husband is home, and not allow two strange men into the place while she's alone with children.  (She didn't because she thought taking the trusting road would be less likely to bring confrontation.)  She should have made them stand outside, while she called someone to confirm this as standard operating procedure for Malta.  (She didn't because she really had no idea who to call.  Lucien, the lady she met on the bus?  She doesn't know that lady enough to know if she can be trusted---so trust her word about whether some other thugs might be trusted?)  All she could do, is cry out:  Help, Mr. Wizard!  Which she decided would be rather fruitless and silly, so she cried out, “Help me, Lord!”  And that calmed her fears instantly. 

Telling Dave about it only made her run through again all the things she might have, should have, could have, would have done...but didn't.  Sigh.  We are truly living in a foreign land!  Note:  that night was the night she met Tara, and in their conversation, when DeDe drove Tara home, she shared with her the incident.  Tara said, “Well, my father works for the Office of Tourism!  I'll ask him.”  Well, we haven't yet heard a reply to that question, so we'll let you know whether we were being “cased” for a future robbery, or if these guys were for real, as soon as we find out.

The other strange happenings have to do with Dave's school experience.  He's teaching kids from ages 18 to 22 or so, but he feels like he's teaching high school. He's come home, this past week, just flabbergasted by the things he's had to deal with.  The students will speak in Maltese, making jokes, and get the entire group laughing, only Dave has no idea what they're saying, so he has to ask.  Sometimes, of course, the jokes are a bit at his expense, so nobody wants to tell him what was said.  It's so sad.  These kids are given stipends for every class they attend, so his only recourse is to kick them out.  Then they don't get paid for that session.  He's had to place them in assigned seats, because they simply can't stop talking when by their friends. 

The school sets up strict rules about punctuality as well.  Students are to be accepted in up to ten minutes late.  After that, the door is to be closed.  Well, that's great, however, a large number of students don't bother walking in until 9.5 minutes after the hour – unless he goes outside and calls them in!  He loses a good ten minutes of instruction time because of this silly “rule” which does nothing but make it socially acceptable to be tardy.

He was first placed in a rather pleasant area to work in during his somewhat “expected” hours of 8 to 4:30 daily.  It was a fairly large room, maybe 24’ x 12’, occupied by three other very kind men.   However, after a week or so there he was moved to a staff room about the same size with a dozen lecturers in working in close quarters. That lasted about 2+ weeks, and then one day he arrived to find a new lecturer in the space he had been occupying.  He was moved into the “tutorial” room - A small room (8’x12’) with eight computers on the outside walls, used by the staff for remedial lessons (students are given up to three chances to pass an exam).  And now this past week, three times he was interrupted by staff bringing students in for an hour or two.  He has to pick up his laptop and all his materials and slip out of the room, since it's such a cramped space as it is, it would be horrific to remain there.  The next step in this sequence is the table that has been moved in to the deputy director’s office.  In other words, he would sit directly in front of the administrator in charge of the staff.  Stay tuned.

He's been disappointed by the amount of contact (welcome) he's received from the administration at MCAST, as well.  These are just some of the things that have made his Fulbright experience less than what he'd expected.

We truly are strangers in a strange land.  We also invited friends for dinner (a pre-race carbo-load) last night, and having originally hoped for around seven guests, gradually we received cancellations.  As of yesterday morning, we had two coming, then it was down to one guest, and even he didn't show.  The fact that our phone has stopped functioning made it impossible for this last fellow runner to call, so we don't blame him, but we were disappointed, nonetheless.

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