The alarm clock sounded this morning at 8h and, for the first time since arriving in what is, according to a recent survey, the happiest place in the UK, I actually got up with a smile. I set about getting dressed - in jeans! I ate a leisurely breakfast and finished the packing which I started last night. By 9h30 I was ready to leave. I called for a taxi (there was no way I was pulling an even heavier-than-when-I arrived-suitcase, handbag, rucksack and another bag filled with a kellogg's crunchy nut cornflake box which itself was filled with cadbury's hot chocolate powder, crunchy nut and clementines, all the way to the train station! My taxi arrived pretty quickly. The driver lifted my suitcase in to the boot despite my warning that it was heavy and asked me where I wanted to go. I said the train station. He asked me whether I was going anywhere nice, I said I was going home. He asked me whether I was coming back to Bournemouth. I said no, so he asked how long I'd been here for, I said Saturday and so the conversation went on ending with him asking me whether I was stealing anything from the house I was moving out of!! It turns out he was asking (jovially) as on Saturday the police went to the taxi office asking questions about a man who'd called for a taxi as he was moving house, he'd taken his widescreen tv with him. Turns out it wasn't his widescreen tv at all, infact it wasn't even his house - he was burgling it!
I arrived at the station, having not stolen anything from the flat/appartment I'd moved out of, not really knowing how I was going to get from Bournemouth to Ludlow. I presumed I'd just do the route I'd done on Saturday but in reverse. But not according to the National rail website which was routing me via Stockport! I asked for a ticket to Ludlow and for him to tell me how to get there and he said 'There's a direct train in 5 minutes'. I said 'What?! To Ludlow?!' He thought I'd said 'London'. It was fine though, I did just do the Saturday route in reverse - Bournemouth - Southampton Central, Southampton Central - Newport, Newport - Ludlow. And there I was home. Home and happy.
mercredi 30 juillet 2008
mardi 29 juillet 2008
No thank you.
I got up this morning and put on outfit number 2 - black trousers and purple shirt. I ate breakfast whilst watching the BBC breakfast news programme. I left the flat/appartment at 8h15. When I arrived at work I went to the staffroom. I hung my jacket and bag up and put my lunch in the fridge. The crowds round the notice board had moved to the whiteboard where notices are written - room changes, cover lessons, notes to tell us they're testing the fire alarm (which, due to bad handwriting looked like 'don't worry the fire alarm is being fished this morning') etc etc. There was nothing relevant to me so I did the last of my photocopying and began looking for my textbooks and class register that were supposed to have appeared overnight. No surprised that at 8h45, with 30 minutes until teaching begins, there was no sign of either.
The text books appeared along with the class register at about 9h05. I was a text book short. I went down to reception and was given another one. I was also told the teacher's book would be ordered for me and oh, by the way - you have 5 students, not 4. It was now 9h10 - 5 minutes before lessons begin and I had to photocopy one extra of every sheet for the student I had only just been told would be in my class and for who I had no register sheet. As you can tell, the day was getting off to a fantastically organised start! When the bell sounded I went to meet my class - there were 5 of them, students that is, - 2 French speakers, a Hungarian, a Polish IT student and a Spanish PE teacher. They were supposed to be pre intermediate. They never were. They were more intermediate than anything. That meant the course text book, which I have to use, was too easy for them. That and it being one of the worst course text books I've ever encountered. Note to self: avoid Clockwise EFL textbooks. Anyway, the morning went very very slowly with the students looking about as bored as me. At the end of the lesson one of the students asked me whether she could move up a level as she'd found it all too easy this morning. You and the rest of the class my dear I felt like saying but instead I told her I'd see what I could do. When lunch finally rolled around (again it had been a case of, at several points in the morning, me being convinced time had stopped but no, on closer inspection of my watch the seconds were turning to minutes just significantly more slowly than they do when you're rushing to catch a train) I popped into reception to pick up my contract. I was told the Principal hadn't signed it, I said I didn't mind, there was just something I wanted to look at. I then went to the staffroom and had to find the morning teacher of my afternoon class to see what he had taught which enabled me to plan for my afternoon class. After eating lunch and liaising with the teacher it didn't leave much time to plan and ended in me pulling a book of the shelf and deciding that that'll do. Trouble was I then needed a cassette player and a cassette and I needed to get my cassette in the right place. I don't know if it's just me but I presumed, maybe quite stupidly, that the >> on a cassette player would mean fast forward and the <<>> is rewind and the << is fast forward! I don't know if you remember but I had no room allocated for this class, I also didn't know how many students there were going to be and I didn't have a register either. Well, I was told there were 6 students and we came to the conclusion I'd be in room 6. So at 14h off I went down to room 6 which is at the back of the cafeteria. I arrived and realised I needed a code to open the door. Off I went to reception for the code. When I went back to room 6 another teacher was there. She was teaching L4.2 in room 6. Hmm, ok, so where was I and where was my class - L5.2? Off I went back to reception. They sent me to room 15 where I found a group, a rather large group may I add, of students all standing up talking about where they should be. By this time it was 14h15. I asked them what level they were. Some were L5.2 - which I kept. The others were L4.2 which I sent to room 6 where I'd just come from. I now had 4 students. We did some vocab activities and didn't even get onto the listening which I'd just spent goodness only knows how long finding with the, what was in my opinion, backwards cassette player!
After this lesson I went back up to the staffroom. I sat for a while watching everyone flapping around. One of the teacher was getting angry and having a paddy as someone had stolen a cassette from his desk and it was the only copy of that cassette and now he couldn't do the lesson he'd planned and and and it all resulted in his writing a message on the white board saying 'do no steal cassettes from other teachers' desks'. Someone then annotated that note with 'hear hear'. As if that wasn't enough to make you think you were in a school playground, another teacher couldn't find the cassette player designated to the classroom where he would be teaching next lesson. Each cassette player has a number on it and the idea is that you take the cassette player which has the same number on as the room you're teaching in. So if you're in room 16 you need to look through about 30 identical cassette players until you find the cassette player with room 16 written on it. Why can't you just take another cassette player if you can't find the one with your room number on it?! Apparently that would lead to another teacher frantically looking round for their cassette player which you would have because somebody had yours... anyway, this trivial thing led to another childlike note being written on the white board - take the cassette player for your room not somebody else's'. I really couldn't take anymore. Not only did I have to somehow plan 3 hours of lessons for the next day using a course text book that was the wrong level for the class, I also had to work alongside this group of, well, immature, couldn't-care-less-unless-it-was-about-cassettes-and-tape-players, so called teachers. No thank you. I went back to the flat/appartment feeling properly depressed. I had an evening of lesson planning ahead. I had days of teaching with inappropriate resources ahead. I had weeks stretching out ahead of me of reruns of today. No thank you. I went back to the college. I went into reception. I was holding my contract and I asked whether, as the Principal hadn't yet signed it it wasn't yet a proper binding contract. When I was told it wasn't yet concrete and was assured that the Principal would sign it (as if I'd been asking out of fear that I was working without a proper contract!) I said I didn't want them to sign it and I'd rather we ripped it up. She looked at me gone out as if I'd just grown a second head or something. The Principal, having over heard the whole thing, asked me whether I could wait '2 ticks'. I was taken to the exact same room I'd been in last Monday when I'd come from Brighton to pick the contract up. He came to ask me why I wanted to leave. Was it the classes, the staff, something someone had said or done? I refrained from telling him that I had never seen such unorganised chaos anywhere ever before (even my Lycée in France was better organised than this and that's saying something!). I just said I wanted to go home and I was allowed to leave. I walked back to the flat/appartment feeling freer and happier that I'd done for a while - I only arrived on Saturday but it seems like an eternity ago. But now I could go home. I am going to home tomorrow. I do not regret my decision to leave after only two days. I do not feel like I have failed in any way. Infact I think it would have been easier to stay. It is the first time I have ever walked away from anything. I even stuck out an A Level in Chemistry rather than giving it up at As! But I wasn't about to sacrafice 8 weeks of my summer living on my own in a city where I don't know anyone doing a job that theoretically I love, just not at that language school, for any amount of money. I still enjoy EFL teaching and will definitely do it again, but I wasn't about to let my passion for the English Language be wiped out of me in a playground of unprofessional childish so called teachers all battling for survival in an unorganised, resouce-lacking college.
Like I said yesterday: if that's the world of work, you can keep it.
The text books appeared along with the class register at about 9h05. I was a text book short. I went down to reception and was given another one. I was also told the teacher's book would be ordered for me and oh, by the way - you have 5 students, not 4. It was now 9h10 - 5 minutes before lessons begin and I had to photocopy one extra of every sheet for the student I had only just been told would be in my class and for who I had no register sheet. As you can tell, the day was getting off to a fantastically organised start! When the bell sounded I went to meet my class - there were 5 of them, students that is, - 2 French speakers, a Hungarian, a Polish IT student and a Spanish PE teacher. They were supposed to be pre intermediate. They never were. They were more intermediate than anything. That meant the course text book, which I have to use, was too easy for them. That and it being one of the worst course text books I've ever encountered. Note to self: avoid Clockwise EFL textbooks. Anyway, the morning went very very slowly with the students looking about as bored as me. At the end of the lesson one of the students asked me whether she could move up a level as she'd found it all too easy this morning. You and the rest of the class my dear I felt like saying but instead I told her I'd see what I could do. When lunch finally rolled around (again it had been a case of, at several points in the morning, me being convinced time had stopped but no, on closer inspection of my watch the seconds were turning to minutes just significantly more slowly than they do when you're rushing to catch a train) I popped into reception to pick up my contract. I was told the Principal hadn't signed it, I said I didn't mind, there was just something I wanted to look at. I then went to the staffroom and had to find the morning teacher of my afternoon class to see what he had taught which enabled me to plan for my afternoon class. After eating lunch and liaising with the teacher it didn't leave much time to plan and ended in me pulling a book of the shelf and deciding that that'll do. Trouble was I then needed a cassette player and a cassette and I needed to get my cassette in the right place. I don't know if it's just me but I presumed, maybe quite stupidly, that the >> on a cassette player would mean fast forward and the <<>> is rewind and the << is fast forward! I don't know if you remember but I had no room allocated for this class, I also didn't know how many students there were going to be and I didn't have a register either. Well, I was told there were 6 students and we came to the conclusion I'd be in room 6. So at 14h off I went down to room 6 which is at the back of the cafeteria. I arrived and realised I needed a code to open the door. Off I went to reception for the code. When I went back to room 6 another teacher was there. She was teaching L4.2 in room 6. Hmm, ok, so where was I and where was my class - L5.2? Off I went back to reception. They sent me to room 15 where I found a group, a rather large group may I add, of students all standing up talking about where they should be. By this time it was 14h15. I asked them what level they were. Some were L5.2 - which I kept. The others were L4.2 which I sent to room 6 where I'd just come from. I now had 4 students. We did some vocab activities and didn't even get onto the listening which I'd just spent goodness only knows how long finding with the, what was in my opinion, backwards cassette player!
After this lesson I went back up to the staffroom. I sat for a while watching everyone flapping around. One of the teacher was getting angry and having a paddy as someone had stolen a cassette from his desk and it was the only copy of that cassette and now he couldn't do the lesson he'd planned and and and it all resulted in his writing a message on the white board saying 'do no steal cassettes from other teachers' desks'. Someone then annotated that note with 'hear hear'. As if that wasn't enough to make you think you were in a school playground, another teacher couldn't find the cassette player designated to the classroom where he would be teaching next lesson. Each cassette player has a number on it and the idea is that you take the cassette player which has the same number on as the room you're teaching in. So if you're in room 16 you need to look through about 30 identical cassette players until you find the cassette player with room 16 written on it. Why can't you just take another cassette player if you can't find the one with your room number on it?! Apparently that would lead to another teacher frantically looking round for their cassette player which you would have because somebody had yours... anyway, this trivial thing led to another childlike note being written on the white board - take the cassette player for your room not somebody else's'. I really couldn't take anymore. Not only did I have to somehow plan 3 hours of lessons for the next day using a course text book that was the wrong level for the class, I also had to work alongside this group of, well, immature, couldn't-care-less-unless-it-was-about-cassettes-and-tape-players, so called teachers. No thank you. I went back to the flat/appartment feeling properly depressed. I had an evening of lesson planning ahead. I had days of teaching with inappropriate resources ahead. I had weeks stretching out ahead of me of reruns of today. No thank you. I went back to the college. I went into reception. I was holding my contract and I asked whether, as the Principal hadn't yet signed it it wasn't yet a proper binding contract. When I was told it wasn't yet concrete and was assured that the Principal would sign it (as if I'd been asking out of fear that I was working without a proper contract!) I said I didn't want them to sign it and I'd rather we ripped it up. She looked at me gone out as if I'd just grown a second head or something. The Principal, having over heard the whole thing, asked me whether I could wait '2 ticks'. I was taken to the exact same room I'd been in last Monday when I'd come from Brighton to pick the contract up. He came to ask me why I wanted to leave. Was it the classes, the staff, something someone had said or done? I refrained from telling him that I had never seen such unorganised chaos anywhere ever before (even my Lycée in France was better organised than this and that's saying something!). I just said I wanted to go home and I was allowed to leave. I walked back to the flat/appartment feeling freer and happier that I'd done for a while - I only arrived on Saturday but it seems like an eternity ago. But now I could go home. I am going to home tomorrow. I do not regret my decision to leave after only two days. I do not feel like I have failed in any way. Infact I think it would have been easier to stay. It is the first time I have ever walked away from anything. I even stuck out an A Level in Chemistry rather than giving it up at As! But I wasn't about to sacrafice 8 weeks of my summer living on my own in a city where I don't know anyone doing a job that theoretically I love, just not at that language school, for any amount of money. I still enjoy EFL teaching and will definitely do it again, but I wasn't about to let my passion for the English Language be wiped out of me in a playground of unprofessional childish so called teachers all battling for survival in an unorganised, resouce-lacking college.
Like I said yesterday: if that's the world of work, you can keep it.
lundi 28 juillet 2008
Welcome to the World of Work
The alarm clock sounded at 7h this morning. I was instantly wide awake; getting up wasn’t a problem. I got dressed – outfit number 1 – beige skirt and purple checked shirt, I had breakfast and watched the BBC1 breakfast news – Weston-super-Mare’s pier was in the process of burning down and severe weather warnings were being given out for the south of England. At 8h15 I left my apartment/flat – call it what you will, and walked to work. When I walked into reception the receptionist looked at me. I told her I was due to start working there today. She took my name and went to tell the principal. I was then taken up to the staffroom and introduced to another teacher who was to induct me. This was news to him. The staffroom was fairly hectic – the majority of people were crowded around the notice board which, I later learnt, displayed the timetable for the week. It appears that, due to the recent number of changes, you don’t get your timetable until Monday morning – about 30 minutes before you start teaching! The teacher inducting me was pleased, and somewhat surprised, to be inducting me as this meant he had no classes today. After the crowd had cleared from around the notice board I was able to see I had been allocated an S5.0 class which is a short course level 5 class of which there is only one. I later learnt that a level 5 is pre intermediate and I wasn’t due to start teaching until Tuesday. I spent the morning being an examiner for the placement tests which, believe me, sounds more glamorous than it is (not that it sounds particularly glamorous anyway). I basically spent my morning sat in a silent room watching students take an exam. As the seconds turned to minutes I realised that time hadn’t come to a stand still and by 11h30 we’d finished. We then had the, by comparison, deeply interesting and challenging job of very quickly reading the writing tests and sorting them into levels. By this time it was lunch time. Back to the staff room to be surrounded by flustered teachers not knowing what they were doing or where they were going – well that described half of them anyway – the other half were somewhat more relaxed and discussing the weather and Weston-Super-Mare’s pier amongst other things. As lunch time drew to a close people began crowding around the notice board again and consulting the white board which displayed any changes to classes or rooms – and believe me there were lots of changes. When the bell rang and the staffroom emptied I made my way down to reception to get a photocopying code as I’d discovered the photocopier wouldn’t work without one. I had a whole hour and a half of the staffroom to myself to prepare what I was going to do with my class of S5.0 tomorrow morning for the 3 hours I’ll have them. I, at this point, had no class list. But, consulting the notice board, found that the timetable and class lists had already been replaced by more up to day ones! My word this place likes to keep you on your toes – the ‘old’ one, if it can be called that, had only been there 5 hours! I could now see that the names of the students who make up class S5.0 had been listed. A quick look led me to believe that I had 8 students in my class. A closer look led me to believe each student had a twin of the same name… putting my brain into gear I realised that no, the list had just been published twice, there were in fact only 4 students in my class. Somewhat smaller than I’d have liked but never mind. They are at least my class and I can do what I like with them. They are a short course which leads me to believe they are at the college for 4 weeks but, looking at the list it says they are only staying until August 8th – wouldn’t surprise me if it were a typing error… I also noticed that the room for my class had changed from 13 to 16. But that’s ok, I mean, at least I have a room, which is more than can be said for my afternoon class – a L5.2 class (a long course level 5 (so pre intermediate) class of which there are two) – no classroom has yet been allocated but that’s the least of my worries. The afternoon teacher of a class is supposed to liaise with the morning teacher so that they don’t repeat the same work as the morning teacher has done. That’s all very well and good in theory but of course it totally depends on the morning teacher knowing in advance what they are doing with the class. And of course they don’t. So, any liaising has to be done after the class has been taken but before I take the class – lunchtime then. And I also have to communicate with last week’s teacher of this class (they are a long course class so have been around a while) to make sure I don’t repeat what he may have done with them last week. And, just to add to the complicatedness of the afternoon, there is no set programme or set of resources for this particular class. On the upside there is a designated course book; on the down side this has been missing for sometime. I won’t hold my breath on it turning up. Not after seeing the unorganised chaos of the shelves of books which encircle the edges of the staffroom anyway!
What’s quite sad is that the teacher’s don’t seem to care. Why are they teachers? They clearly don’t enjoy the job, they don’t care about the students, they are there for the money. It’s a job, it’s meaningless to them. I was told that usually you have your timetable the Friday of the week before but well, I was told, you don’t spend all weekend planning, we’re not paid enough for that. And then there’s the teacher who told me I was lucky as my course has a designated text book therefore I needn’t plan a thing. But have you seen the textbook? It bored me just looking at it, goodness only knows what it’ll do to the students to work from it. Oh and my textbook comes minus the teacher book which can’t be located in the staffroom of unorganised chaos. I mean, that’s presuming someone hasn’t walked off with it forgetting to bring it back. So I have a useless textbook and am teacher book-less. But it’s ok because at least I wasn’t one teacher who was told as the bell rang that she was covering a lesson only to get 10 minutes into the lesson and have the usual teacher turn up. When she got back to the staffroom she was told to do one thing but as it turned out she was supposed to be doing another.
It was all quite incredible. I have never seen anything quite like it. All I can say is that if this is how the world of work operates then you can keep it and I’ll stay a student forever – MA and PhD here I come!
What’s quite sad is that the teacher’s don’t seem to care. Why are they teachers? They clearly don’t enjoy the job, they don’t care about the students, they are there for the money. It’s a job, it’s meaningless to them. I was told that usually you have your timetable the Friday of the week before but well, I was told, you don’t spend all weekend planning, we’re not paid enough for that. And then there’s the teacher who told me I was lucky as my course has a designated text book therefore I needn’t plan a thing. But have you seen the textbook? It bored me just looking at it, goodness only knows what it’ll do to the students to work from it. Oh and my textbook comes minus the teacher book which can’t be located in the staffroom of unorganised chaos. I mean, that’s presuming someone hasn’t walked off with it forgetting to bring it back. So I have a useless textbook and am teacher book-less. But it’s ok because at least I wasn’t one teacher who was told as the bell rang that she was covering a lesson only to get 10 minutes into the lesson and have the usual teacher turn up. When she got back to the staffroom she was told to do one thing but as it turned out she was supposed to be doing another.
It was all quite incredible. I have never seen anything quite like it. All I can say is that if this is how the world of work operates then you can keep it and I’ll stay a student forever – MA and PhD here I come!
dimanche 27 juillet 2008
Hello Bournemouth
Above - it's definitely worse than Marseille and possibly worse than Brighton. Could this be the UK's worst case of 'find your own grain of sand?'
Above - Bournemouth Pier and somewhere, if you look hard enough, you'll see the beach!
This morning I went for a walk around Bournemouth. I figuered that as I'm going to be working full time (never before in my life have I worked 8h30 to 17h30 5 days a week! It may well kill me! so if blog entries stop you'll know I've falledn victim to the world of work!) I wouldn't have a lot of time for sightseeing or exploring the area. I walked from my appartment (funny how I always used to refer to my appartment in Marseille as an appartment and never thought anything of it but now, being here in Bournemouth, it feels strange to refer to the accommodation as an appartment, I feel that 'flat' would be more appropriate. I can't explain why, maybe because it's lacks the glamour of my central Marseille mediterranean appartment on the south coast of France? Somehow a flat on Britian's south coast just doesn't seem to, well, have the same glamour to warrant being an appartment...) Anyway, I left where I'm now living and walked to where I will be working. I wanted to make sure that I would be able to find it in the morning, I also wanted to know exactly how long it would take me so that I wouldn't be late or ridiculously early on my first day. It takes about 20 minutes so if I allow 25 I should be fine. I carried on to The Square (I had a map of Bournemouth that was in the appartment? flat?) and walked to the sea front. I didn't actually go on the beach and I think if you look at the photos you might understand why - there wasn't exactly a lot of space!
When I first thought of Bournemouth when I saw the job advert I thought of a little seaside town full of elderly people. I was later told that it was a similar size to Brighton. I then discovered that it has a lot of language schools and therefore a lot of foreign students. The reality seems to be that Bournemouth is a little bigger than I imagined. It is a city rather than a town. It is in some ways similar to Brighton - there is a pier for instance. There are lots of 'touristy' things around the seafront. But every young person I walked past was foreign. I heard so many different languages. And, in comparison with Brighton, there are more eldery people. However Bournemouth does immediately have one up on Brighton as it's beaches are sandy as opposed to a collection of stones! It's pier however, is a little disappointing by comparison. From walking aorund this morning in the glorious sunshine my first impressions of Bournemouth are that it is cleaner and well, as silly as this may sound, a seaside town in the more traditional sense of a seaside town. But these opinions are based on first impressions, it will take me a little more exploring to draw concrete conculsions on this town? city? that is not at all what I originally expected when I thought of Bournemouth. Quite when I'm going to find time to fit this exploring in remains to be seen - weekends perhaps? But if there's one thing I've learnt - things are never as their stereotypes would have you believe, and images of things you have in your head of how something should be are often completely inaccurate!
vendredi 25 juillet 2008
Stepping into the unknown
After having been back in the country for precisely a week I am off to my third location. The first was Brighton, the second Ludlow and the third will be Bournemouth. I remember, somewhere around March or April time, I decided it would be a good idea to apply for a job to earn some money in the summer. I applied for several jobs, some got back to me and arranged an interview but, as I wasn't available until the end of July, they weren't interested. They still interviewed me mind even though I'd written in my cover letter that I wasn't available until the end of July! Goes to show how carefully they read the application. I had an offer of part time work in Bristol and then an offer of full time work in Bournemouth. It was the latter that I accepted. And so off I go to Bournemouth for the summer. Seaside resort and, according to a recent survey, the happiest place in Britain. Well, it'll make a change from the slowest place in Britain as I do believe Ludlow was voted not that long ago.
Saturday morning, 10h20, Ludlow train station. On platform 2 could be seen a girl with a rather large suitcase, a bright rucksack and a handbag waiting to board the train to Milford Haven. She got off after an hour and a quarter at Newport to change trains taking the Portsmouth Harbour train, which was like an oven, but getting off at Southampton Central. She then took the Weymouth train to Bournemouth arriving on time at 15h to be met by the Principal of the Language College where she's going to be working.
the principal took me to my accommodation, which is about a 20 minute walk from the Language College. After I'd unpacked I went shopping as although the accommodation was fully furnished it lacked food. I was spoilt for choice when it came to supermarkets. I originally wanted to go to the Asda I'd seen by the station but it would have involved a taxi, so I opted for Lidl and Waitrose which are both about a 3 minute walk from the accommodation.
The accommodation is situated in Winton and is like an appartment - it's in a house which has been converted into flats. There are 3 double bedrooms, a bathroom with both a bath and a shower, a fully equipped kitchen (yes, there's an oven, a microwave, a fridge, a freezer and a washing machine!) and a lounge with a tv and a reclining green leather armchair. There's also a 3 seater sofa and a 2 seater sofa - both green leather to match the armchair. There's a dining room and hallway. And all of this to myself as there's no one else in the appartment at the minute. It all feels rather big and empty for just one person.
Saturday morning, 10h20, Ludlow train station. On platform 2 could be seen a girl with a rather large suitcase, a bright rucksack and a handbag waiting to board the train to Milford Haven. She got off after an hour and a quarter at Newport to change trains taking the Portsmouth Harbour train, which was like an oven, but getting off at Southampton Central. She then took the Weymouth train to Bournemouth arriving on time at 15h to be met by the Principal of the Language College where she's going to be working.
the principal took me to my accommodation, which is about a 20 minute walk from the Language College. After I'd unpacked I went shopping as although the accommodation was fully furnished it lacked food. I was spoilt for choice when it came to supermarkets. I originally wanted to go to the Asda I'd seen by the station but it would have involved a taxi, so I opted for Lidl and Waitrose which are both about a 3 minute walk from the accommodation.
The accommodation is situated in Winton and is like an appartment - it's in a house which has been converted into flats. There are 3 double bedrooms, a bathroom with both a bath and a shower, a fully equipped kitchen (yes, there's an oven, a microwave, a fridge, a freezer and a washing machine!) and a lounge with a tv and a reclining green leather armchair. There's also a 3 seater sofa and a 2 seater sofa - both green leather to match the armchair. There's a dining room and hallway. And all of this to myself as there's no one else in the appartment at the minute. It all feels rather big and empty for just one person.
jeudi 24 juillet 2008
National Rail - my second home
And to keep you updated I can tell you that I am now safely back in the UK. Safely back in my little corner of England - Ludlow. I flew back last Saturday from Dresden to Gatwick. Dresden airport is the smallest airport I've ever been too. It's tiny! I know I haven't been to many aiports but I'm pretty sure I could travel the world and not find too many airports smaller than Dresden's!! The only people in the whole airport were the people wanting to catch my flight as that was the only flight leaving until later that evening. Infact, there were so few flights that to fill the computer screen up with outgoing flights they had the next couple of days' flights displayed! When I landed at Gatwick I took the train down to Brighton and then changed to go to Hove where I arrived at Amanda's flat towards 20h. I stumbled in, luggage and all, and she said the magic word - tea. Oh yes please. It had been three weeks since a cup of proper English tea had passed my lips. I'd tried every kind of fruit tea imaginable, I'd even resorted to buying Earl Grey, but nothing, nothing could compete with plain, ordinary, black tea. Whilst at the hostel in Dresden I was asked by an American, who seemed to think the English were a nation of tea drinkers, 'so, what kind of tea do you drink?' He didn't bother asking if I liked tea but just went straight for 'what kind'. I replied with plain, black, ordinary tea. The kind that seems just not to exist outside the UK which, considering we don't grow it there, seems kind of strange! Anyway, yes, I arrived at Amanda's and had a cup of tea. I showered, I slept.
On the Sunday we went into Brighton. I was horrified that the price of a bus ticket has gone up yet again. When I started at uni in 2005 an all day city saver (where you can hop on and off as many buses as you like all day) cost £2.80. When I left last year it was up at £3.00 and now, now it has risen to the extautionate, day light robbery, bank breaking total of £3.50 would you believe?! Thankfully the annual bus pass remains at £300 but £3.50 for a bus ticket! We did a spot of shopping (one bus) then took the 77 to Devil's Dyke in West Sussex (a second bus) - it's a part of the Sussex Downs. I'd never been before. We sat on the upper deck of an open top bus being blown away for a good 20 minutes before arriving, under skies that had been blue but were now grey, and feeling rather cold. A quick glance at the view told me it was somewhat similar to Shropshire - rolling green fields and countryside, we then headed inside to the one and only pub/restaurant for lunch. Delicious. I had an italian salad with orange juice and then for desert the chocolate brownie and a latte. Afterwards we braved the elements - it didn't rain but it was a little chilly because of the wind. We flew a kite. I can now say that I have flown a kite on devil's dyke. Strangely enough I think the french word for 'kite' translates literally as 'flying stag'... don't quote me on that one though.
After the kite flying we went back into town (a third bus - getting our money's worth!) and I needed an internet café to find out how oh how I was going to get to Bournemouth from Hove going via Hampden Park (in completely the opposite direction (I needed to pick up my portfolio from the CELTA course I did last year at Sussex Downs College)) the next day. I finally found an internet café that was open at 19h on Sunday and plonked myself down only to be tormented by the National Rail webpage. 45 minutes later not only did I have a route mapped out, I also had a not too beautiful (and later to prove not too helpful) hand drawn map of how to get from Bournemouth train station to where I needed to go - The Richard Language College.
The next morning (Monday) I set of at 8h10. I walked to Hove train station and caught a train to Brighton where I changed. I caught a second train to Lewes where I changed again to a train going to Ore. I, however, got off at Hampden Park and walked the 20 minutes to Sussex Downs College. The memories of the 4 stressful, busy weeks I spent there last summer doing my CELTA course came back. I walked into the college and my feet automatically guided me to my Tutor's office. We sat and had a chat which was nice and I picked up my portfolio. I left at about 10h20 to go back to Hampden Park Station where I asked which ticket would be best to buy for getting to Bournemouth but coming back not to Hampden Park but to Hove. At the time it made perfect sense when she sold me a Hampden Park - Bournemouth via Clapham Junction return and then a single from Lewes to Hove. Later on however I would prove to be completely mystified about how that could ever be logical. I caught the 11h train to London Victoria getting off at Clapham Junction (which is, according the the sign, Britain's busiest train station and is also similar in it's dreadful layout to Birmingham New Street in that all the platforms come off of one long corridor) where I was supposed to change to go to Bournemouth. A glance at the board told me trains heading to Bournemouth left from platform 9. When I arrived at platform 9 I read the sign for the train that was just pulling in: 'Take the first two carriages for... take the second two carriages for... and take the last two carriages for...' trouble was Bournemouth wasn't listed anywhere. Hmm, I decided to ask and was told to change at Woking. So on the train I got. but there were no onboard announcements, there was no scrolling thing at the end of the carriage displaying where the train would stop. Which carriage did I need to be in to stop at Woking?! I sat down and waited for the first stop which, I was able to see from looking out of the window, was Woking. I got off. I then changed and finally got a train going to Bournemouth. When I arrived I got out my hand drawn map... which didn't help me at all. I had a 50/50 chance - I either turn right or left out of the station - my map was of no help so I gambled and went left. Hindsight can be said to be a lovely thing, it can also be said to be the most useless thing in the universe. I should have of course turned right! A good hour after having left Bournemouth's station, after having asked goodness knows only how many people later, I finally arrived at the Richard Language College. I went in and the girl on reception asked whether she could help me. I said I was due to start working there next Monday. She went and told the Principal that I was there. (We'd arranged by e-mail I'd pop in on the Monday in the late afternoon). I heard him say 'could you look after her please, I'm not ready'. She asked me whether I'd like a drink, she showed me the toilets, gave me a guided tour and then sat me down with a prospectus - she was good at her job! Finally the Principal could squeeze me in! I walked away with somewhere to live and an unsigned contract to read over. It took me less than 10 minutes to get back to the station and it was at this point I realised I should have turned right rather than left upon arrival, never mind. I looked at the departing trains and saw the one to Clapham Junction wasn't for another 45 minutes. I decided it'd be quicker to get the train to Southampton Central and then change to a train going directly to Hove. I changed at Southampton Central but as I was sitting on the train I realised my ticket was specifically for the Clapham Junction route. I then tried to work out how exactly my tickets for the return journey worked. I had a Bournemouth to Hampden Park single via Clapham Junction and then a Lewes to Hove single. How was I supposed to get from Hampden Park to Lewes?! I couldn't make it make sense, and to think it had all been so clear when she'd sold me the ticket ealier in the day! I sat on the train dreading the ticket inspector coming. When he did come I wondered how I was going to explain being nowhere near Clapham Junction and not heading in direction of either Hampden Park or Lewes. Luckily he didn't bat an eyelid and just moved on to the next passenger! I arrived back at Amanda's just after 12 hours after I'd left. Again, she provided tea, except this time it'd been only 12 tealess hours rather than 3 tealess weeks!
The following day I was due to catch the 13h51 train to go back up to Ludlow. I went with Amanda to a french café for breakfast and then popped into Brighton to do some shopping. I spent some time in Oxfam before carting my one just about moveable suitcase, my backpack and two large hand bags to the train station. I stopped with Amanda for lunch and ended up catching the 15h51 train to London Victoria where I got the circle line of the underground to Paddington. That was hard. Londoners are unforgiving people. I was laden down with baggage, I could barely shift my suitcase let alone carry the thing up and down stairs but yet still people pushed past, not offering to help. When I got onto a crowded train at Paddington I felt lucky to find a seat and well, collapsed into it. I changed at Newport and then got off at Ludlow. Again, exhausted.
So, in the past week or so I've been to 3 countries, taken a plane, caught 12 trains and slept in 4 beds. I haven't stood still. And it's not over yet as next Monday I'm starting a new job. In Bournemouth!
On the Sunday we went into Brighton. I was horrified that the price of a bus ticket has gone up yet again. When I started at uni in 2005 an all day city saver (where you can hop on and off as many buses as you like all day) cost £2.80. When I left last year it was up at £3.00 and now, now it has risen to the extautionate, day light robbery, bank breaking total of £3.50 would you believe?! Thankfully the annual bus pass remains at £300 but £3.50 for a bus ticket! We did a spot of shopping (one bus) then took the 77 to Devil's Dyke in West Sussex (a second bus) - it's a part of the Sussex Downs. I'd never been before. We sat on the upper deck of an open top bus being blown away for a good 20 minutes before arriving, under skies that had been blue but were now grey, and feeling rather cold. A quick glance at the view told me it was somewhat similar to Shropshire - rolling green fields and countryside, we then headed inside to the one and only pub/restaurant for lunch. Delicious. I had an italian salad with orange juice and then for desert the chocolate brownie and a latte. Afterwards we braved the elements - it didn't rain but it was a little chilly because of the wind. We flew a kite. I can now say that I have flown a kite on devil's dyke. Strangely enough I think the french word for 'kite' translates literally as 'flying stag'... don't quote me on that one though.
After the kite flying we went back into town (a third bus - getting our money's worth!) and I needed an internet café to find out how oh how I was going to get to Bournemouth from Hove going via Hampden Park (in completely the opposite direction (I needed to pick up my portfolio from the CELTA course I did last year at Sussex Downs College)) the next day. I finally found an internet café that was open at 19h on Sunday and plonked myself down only to be tormented by the National Rail webpage. 45 minutes later not only did I have a route mapped out, I also had a not too beautiful (and later to prove not too helpful) hand drawn map of how to get from Bournemouth train station to where I needed to go - The Richard Language College.
The next morning (Monday) I set of at 8h10. I walked to Hove train station and caught a train to Brighton where I changed. I caught a second train to Lewes where I changed again to a train going to Ore. I, however, got off at Hampden Park and walked the 20 minutes to Sussex Downs College. The memories of the 4 stressful, busy weeks I spent there last summer doing my CELTA course came back. I walked into the college and my feet automatically guided me to my Tutor's office. We sat and had a chat which was nice and I picked up my portfolio. I left at about 10h20 to go back to Hampden Park Station where I asked which ticket would be best to buy for getting to Bournemouth but coming back not to Hampden Park but to Hove. At the time it made perfect sense when she sold me a Hampden Park - Bournemouth via Clapham Junction return and then a single from Lewes to Hove. Later on however I would prove to be completely mystified about how that could ever be logical. I caught the 11h train to London Victoria getting off at Clapham Junction (which is, according the the sign, Britain's busiest train station and is also similar in it's dreadful layout to Birmingham New Street in that all the platforms come off of one long corridor) where I was supposed to change to go to Bournemouth. A glance at the board told me trains heading to Bournemouth left from platform 9. When I arrived at platform 9 I read the sign for the train that was just pulling in: 'Take the first two carriages for... take the second two carriages for... and take the last two carriages for...' trouble was Bournemouth wasn't listed anywhere. Hmm, I decided to ask and was told to change at Woking. So on the train I got. but there were no onboard announcements, there was no scrolling thing at the end of the carriage displaying where the train would stop. Which carriage did I need to be in to stop at Woking?! I sat down and waited for the first stop which, I was able to see from looking out of the window, was Woking. I got off. I then changed and finally got a train going to Bournemouth. When I arrived I got out my hand drawn map... which didn't help me at all. I had a 50/50 chance - I either turn right or left out of the station - my map was of no help so I gambled and went left. Hindsight can be said to be a lovely thing, it can also be said to be the most useless thing in the universe. I should have of course turned right! A good hour after having left Bournemouth's station, after having asked goodness knows only how many people later, I finally arrived at the Richard Language College. I went in and the girl on reception asked whether she could help me. I said I was due to start working there next Monday. She went and told the Principal that I was there. (We'd arranged by e-mail I'd pop in on the Monday in the late afternoon). I heard him say 'could you look after her please, I'm not ready'. She asked me whether I'd like a drink, she showed me the toilets, gave me a guided tour and then sat me down with a prospectus - she was good at her job! Finally the Principal could squeeze me in! I walked away with somewhere to live and an unsigned contract to read over. It took me less than 10 minutes to get back to the station and it was at this point I realised I should have turned right rather than left upon arrival, never mind. I looked at the departing trains and saw the one to Clapham Junction wasn't for another 45 minutes. I decided it'd be quicker to get the train to Southampton Central and then change to a train going directly to Hove. I changed at Southampton Central but as I was sitting on the train I realised my ticket was specifically for the Clapham Junction route. I then tried to work out how exactly my tickets for the return journey worked. I had a Bournemouth to Hampden Park single via Clapham Junction and then a Lewes to Hove single. How was I supposed to get from Hampden Park to Lewes?! I couldn't make it make sense, and to think it had all been so clear when she'd sold me the ticket ealier in the day! I sat on the train dreading the ticket inspector coming. When he did come I wondered how I was going to explain being nowhere near Clapham Junction and not heading in direction of either Hampden Park or Lewes. Luckily he didn't bat an eyelid and just moved on to the next passenger! I arrived back at Amanda's just after 12 hours after I'd left. Again, she provided tea, except this time it'd been only 12 tealess hours rather than 3 tealess weeks!
The following day I was due to catch the 13h51 train to go back up to Ludlow. I went with Amanda to a french café for breakfast and then popped into Brighton to do some shopping. I spent some time in Oxfam before carting my one just about moveable suitcase, my backpack and two large hand bags to the train station. I stopped with Amanda for lunch and ended up catching the 15h51 train to London Victoria where I got the circle line of the underground to Paddington. That was hard. Londoners are unforgiving people. I was laden down with baggage, I could barely shift my suitcase let alone carry the thing up and down stairs but yet still people pushed past, not offering to help. When I got onto a crowded train at Paddington I felt lucky to find a seat and well, collapsed into it. I changed at Newport and then got off at Ludlow. Again, exhausted.
So, in the past week or so I've been to 3 countries, taken a plane, caught 12 trains and slept in 4 beds. I haven't stood still. And it's not over yet as next Monday I'm starting a new job. In Bournemouth!
Herrnhut and Zinzendorf
So my part of Germany, (and indeed it is ‘my’ part of Germany!) is situated in the east of the country in a region called Saxony. To be more specific I find myself in an area called Upper Lusatia between the Elbe and Neisse rivers, so called because of the nearby Lusatian Hills. This part of Germany is not known for its popularity with tourists as, indeed, very few tourists, if any, grace the region with their presence. The region is more popular with birdwatchers and flower-lovers or should I say ornithologists and botanists? The region is after all home to such an abundance of otters that it is thought to have Germany’s biggest otter population. And, judging by the number of people who seem to live around here, I’m pretty willing to bet the otters outnumber the people…
Herrnhut – the cradle of the Moravian Church
This is the town where I am living and working, although I personally see it being more of a village than a town. Whether it be a town or village it was established in 1722 by the unheard of Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf, unheard of that is until I arrived in Herrnhut. Now I can’t get through a day without him popping up somewhere even though he died in 1760! He basically used to own the whole region and allowed Moravian and Bohemian refugees to settle on his land thus creating a Christian centre of missionaries. And this is what Herrnhut is famous for, in the Christian world at least – for its extensive missionary work. It is also famous for the Herrnhut Advent Star which, although you may not know by name, I guarantee that each and every one of you have one, or at least, know someone who has.
So, Count Zinzendorf was born in 1700 into a noble family of Lutherans in Saxony. His father died when he was just 6 weeks old and he was brought up by his Grandmother as his Mother re-married and moved away. At the age of 10 he was sent to boarding school to prepare him for his work serving at the Royal Court in Dresden where he and his friends formed ‘The Order of the Grain of Mustard Seed’. At the age of 16 he went to the University of Wittenberg – the birthplace of Protestantism and the centre of an effort to reform the Catholic Church. An effort which, instead of reform, led to division and the creation of the Lutheran church. By the time that Zinzendorf was 18, the Lutheran Church was experiencing an internal struggle between Pietists and Traditionalists. At the age of 21 Zinzendorf received his father’s inheritance and bought the estate of Berthelsdorf from his Grandmother not knowing that it would be this very estate that would not only make him famous but also an outlaw.
In 1722 Zinzendorf learnt of a group of Christians in Moravia – a region 200 miles south east of Saxony, who were being persecuted because of their beliefs and so were looking for a place to stay. Zinzendorf agreed to allow them to build on his land and to freely practice their religion there. He called the beginnings of the town the Moravians began to build ‘Herrnhut’ from the German for ‘Lord’s Watch’. But as more and more Christians from many different denominations came to settle in Herrnhut the town changed from a harmonious community to a shambles where it was everyman for himself. Zindendorf worked hard to change the situation around and eventually succeeded. He quit his job at the Royal Court in Dresden and moved his family to Herrnhut.
Herrnhut later became the birth place of the 24 hour prayer. Originally people drew straws as to who would pray which hour of the day. This way, there would always be someone praying for Herrnhut, and the world, no matter what time of the day or night it was. In 1730 Ludwig travelled to Denmark for the coronation of King Christian VI where he met the servant of his friend Count Laurwig. The servant’s simple story set in motion a series of events which would see people from the Herrnhut community spread all over the world. The servant’s story of how slaves in the Caribbean had never heard of Jesus led to Herrnhut sending out missionaries to live and work alongside the slaves in order to preach to them. But whilst all this was going on Zinzendorf was busy trying to fulfil his ambition to become a Lutheran Pastor, an ambition he eventually fulfilled in December 1734. However resentment among the nobility of Saxony towards Zinzendorf’s unorthodox religious ways had been growing and many just did not agree with a Count being ordained a Pastor and complaints were made to the Royal Court in Dresden who issued an edict banning Zinzendorf from his own kingdom. Zinzendorf was forced to look for somewhere else to live and eventually leased Ronneburg Castle which was already home to a group of Jews, tramps and vagabonds. Zinzendorf made it his mission to convert these people to Christianity seeing his banishing from his own kingdom as God’s way of allowing him to expand the work he’d started in Herrnhut. This new Christian community Zinzendorf named Herrnhaag which, along with Herrnhut, began to be referred to as the Moravian Church.
In November 1738 Zinzendorf himself became a missionary in the face of much criticism from those who accused him of sending others across the world as missionaries when he knew there was little chance they would come back alive. When he arrived in the Caribbean he found the missionaries already there were in prison but that the community of slaves had become Christian. He immediately set about trying to free the imprisoned missionaries which he did with success. After putting into place many of the same procedures that were in place at Herrnhut – such as the 24 hour praying, Zinzendorf made his way back to Germany. A few years later Zinzendorf went travelling again setting up Christian communities across the world.
In 1743 he felt it was time to go back to Germany as he had heard disturbing reports of unrest amongst the Christian communities there. As the unrest was sorted out the King of Saxony made a visit to Herrnhut, he was so impressed with what he found there that he began to question why Zinzendorf had ever been banished from the area. He quickly reversed this decision allowing Zinzendorf to return to Herrnhut.
In June 1756 Zinzendorf’s wife died and a year later it was suggested that he remarry as, since his first wife’s death, he had become unsociable spending much of his time alone. It was suggested that he marry a friend with whom he had worked closely over the years. The problem was Zinzendorf was a Count and his possible second wife nothing more than a peasant. In 1757 Zinzendorf passed on all his titles and privileges to his nephew and married Anna Nitchmann, keeping it a secret to avoid bringing shame on the Zinzendorf family. A year later they announced their marriage explaining why they had chosen to keep it secret but shortly after Anna fell ill, closely followed by Zinzendorf himself.
Seventeen days before his sixtieth birthday on May 9th 1760 Count Ludwig Zinzendorf died. His second wife soon followed him on May 22nd 1760. But the work that Zinzendorf had started continued. At the time of his death 226 missionaries had been sent out and over 3000 people had been converted. The Moravian church continued to send out missionaries, indeed their work is still going on today.
Herrnhut – the cradle of the Moravian Church
This is the town where I am living and working, although I personally see it being more of a village than a town. Whether it be a town or village it was established in 1722 by the unheard of Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf, unheard of that is until I arrived in Herrnhut. Now I can’t get through a day without him popping up somewhere even though he died in 1760! He basically used to own the whole region and allowed Moravian and Bohemian refugees to settle on his land thus creating a Christian centre of missionaries. And this is what Herrnhut is famous for, in the Christian world at least – for its extensive missionary work. It is also famous for the Herrnhut Advent Star which, although you may not know by name, I guarantee that each and every one of you have one, or at least, know someone who has.
So, Count Zinzendorf was born in 1700 into a noble family of Lutherans in Saxony. His father died when he was just 6 weeks old and he was brought up by his Grandmother as his Mother re-married and moved away. At the age of 10 he was sent to boarding school to prepare him for his work serving at the Royal Court in Dresden where he and his friends formed ‘The Order of the Grain of Mustard Seed’. At the age of 16 he went to the University of Wittenberg – the birthplace of Protestantism and the centre of an effort to reform the Catholic Church. An effort which, instead of reform, led to division and the creation of the Lutheran church. By the time that Zinzendorf was 18, the Lutheran Church was experiencing an internal struggle between Pietists and Traditionalists. At the age of 21 Zinzendorf received his father’s inheritance and bought the estate of Berthelsdorf from his Grandmother not knowing that it would be this very estate that would not only make him famous but also an outlaw.
In 1722 Zinzendorf learnt of a group of Christians in Moravia – a region 200 miles south east of Saxony, who were being persecuted because of their beliefs and so were looking for a place to stay. Zinzendorf agreed to allow them to build on his land and to freely practice their religion there. He called the beginnings of the town the Moravians began to build ‘Herrnhut’ from the German for ‘Lord’s Watch’. But as more and more Christians from many different denominations came to settle in Herrnhut the town changed from a harmonious community to a shambles where it was everyman for himself. Zindendorf worked hard to change the situation around and eventually succeeded. He quit his job at the Royal Court in Dresden and moved his family to Herrnhut.
Herrnhut later became the birth place of the 24 hour prayer. Originally people drew straws as to who would pray which hour of the day. This way, there would always be someone praying for Herrnhut, and the world, no matter what time of the day or night it was. In 1730 Ludwig travelled to Denmark for the coronation of King Christian VI where he met the servant of his friend Count Laurwig. The servant’s simple story set in motion a series of events which would see people from the Herrnhut community spread all over the world. The servant’s story of how slaves in the Caribbean had never heard of Jesus led to Herrnhut sending out missionaries to live and work alongside the slaves in order to preach to them. But whilst all this was going on Zinzendorf was busy trying to fulfil his ambition to become a Lutheran Pastor, an ambition he eventually fulfilled in December 1734. However resentment among the nobility of Saxony towards Zinzendorf’s unorthodox religious ways had been growing and many just did not agree with a Count being ordained a Pastor and complaints were made to the Royal Court in Dresden who issued an edict banning Zinzendorf from his own kingdom. Zinzendorf was forced to look for somewhere else to live and eventually leased Ronneburg Castle which was already home to a group of Jews, tramps and vagabonds. Zinzendorf made it his mission to convert these people to Christianity seeing his banishing from his own kingdom as God’s way of allowing him to expand the work he’d started in Herrnhut. This new Christian community Zinzendorf named Herrnhaag which, along with Herrnhut, began to be referred to as the Moravian Church.
In November 1738 Zinzendorf himself became a missionary in the face of much criticism from those who accused him of sending others across the world as missionaries when he knew there was little chance they would come back alive. When he arrived in the Caribbean he found the missionaries already there were in prison but that the community of slaves had become Christian. He immediately set about trying to free the imprisoned missionaries which he did with success. After putting into place many of the same procedures that were in place at Herrnhut – such as the 24 hour praying, Zinzendorf made his way back to Germany. A few years later Zinzendorf went travelling again setting up Christian communities across the world.
In 1743 he felt it was time to go back to Germany as he had heard disturbing reports of unrest amongst the Christian communities there. As the unrest was sorted out the King of Saxony made a visit to Herrnhut, he was so impressed with what he found there that he began to question why Zinzendorf had ever been banished from the area. He quickly reversed this decision allowing Zinzendorf to return to Herrnhut.
In June 1756 Zinzendorf’s wife died and a year later it was suggested that he remarry as, since his first wife’s death, he had become unsociable spending much of his time alone. It was suggested that he marry a friend with whom he had worked closely over the years. The problem was Zinzendorf was a Count and his possible second wife nothing more than a peasant. In 1757 Zinzendorf passed on all his titles and privileges to his nephew and married Anna Nitchmann, keeping it a secret to avoid bringing shame on the Zinzendorf family. A year later they announced their marriage explaining why they had chosen to keep it secret but shortly after Anna fell ill, closely followed by Zinzendorf himself.
Seventeen days before his sixtieth birthday on May 9th 1760 Count Ludwig Zinzendorf died. His second wife soon followed him on May 22nd 1760. But the work that Zinzendorf had started continued. At the time of his death 226 missionaries had been sent out and over 3000 people had been converted. The Moravian church continued to send out missionaries, indeed their work is still going on today.
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