Aching limbs, drooping eyes, saturated clothes, dripping hair and red nose, I now sit in the IT room, the rain, flashes of lightning and the distant rumbles of thunder - the delightful leftovers of a nearby typhoon - fill the sky outside. The school, roads and potentially our flat are filling with water; gutters, windows and general building structures unable to cope with these common down pours. Oh, China!

I had the most awesome weekend of my trip, probably some of the most memorable days of my life. On Saturday, I joined our neighbour, a fifteen year old student, as she watched her school's class 10 perform the marching that, when being rehearsed during the week, had disturbed my slumber at 11pm and 5am. To finally see the source of the "YI, ER, SAN, SI!" that had echoed around our building for so long, was truly fantastic. It was overwhelming to see over a thousand students in one year group, but heartwarming to watch the care they had for one another, as well as the army officers who had trained them for this tradition. Tears filled the eyes of students as they bid farewell to these brave men, who left to return to the army. They too could not hide their dismay. As this entire class ran cheering after their bus on its departure, myself and our neighbour were silent, sad ourselves to be witnessing such an emotional scene.

That evening, we took our two new friends from upstairs, one aged fifteen and the other thirteen, for street food. They fed us carrot, tofu, coconut milk soup with ice and "bubble" jelly and naan bread. We walked around, shopped and finally saw the park. I tried to win the girls a phone, but failed, the eyes of glaring chinese natives making me nervous! Sadly, the prospect of an early morning meant we had to end our evening early.

Sunday morning. 5am. Hair in all directions needing a wash. No running water. Great. 6am, we walk to school, frantically buying a watermelon the moment a shop opens, our gift for the family we were to visit. The sun springs up - no such thing as a romantic sunrise in China - and we arrive at school in the scorching heat. On meeting my top student, Kaka, and her two friends from the school opposite, we, at 6.30am, clambered into a rickety, old bus and set off on our journey to their hometown of Long Lou. Passengers, as is always the case, stared at us in bemusement, but also gazed at our companions and their ability to speak and undersatnd english. I felt quite proud of my student! When we arrived, the girls became incredibly excited; just two minutes away from the bus stop we arrived at what I thought was a bike garage, but what turned out to be Kaka's home. She led us through to a small courtyard, sheltered by the walls of surrounding buildings, occupied with water-filled buckets and a small cooking ring in the corner, where Kaka's father was boiling some cockles. More and more people arrived; her two brothers, one aged 24 who is a teacher, the other, 21 and a mechanic, a local school teacher, farmer, farmer's young son and a few curious neighbours. We all, seated on the back of a numer of motorbikes, set off for the mountain. We climbed said mountain using the 'ancient' climbing path, built and used by various generations since the distant year of 1999! We climbed through semi-jungle and over rocks before reaching the peak, where we looked down upon endless stretches of paddy fields, countryside and the refreshing sea. As we descended, we sang chinese and english songs, took an insane number of photos - cameras always being a cause of much excitement - and eventually, again on bikes, travelled to 'Moon bay'. A phonecall from Kaka's parents summoned us early from the tranquil beach, and so we left to eat an enormous feast with what could have potentially been the entire population of Long Lou! We were absolutely stuffed after our seafood treat, but they insisted on giving us more. En route from the beach, i'd made the mistake of saying that Zoe and myself liked coconut; we were taken to the local farmer's plot of land, where he plucked down coconut after coconut, some of which we ate there and then, others that were offered as a gift. He plunged peanuts in my face, having just thrust them from the ground and soon, Kaka's friend, Nora, invited us to her home. She clutched my hand excitedly on our arrival, introducing me to her mother and father before showing us to Kaka's other friend, Estelle's, uncle's teahouse, where we were given drinks of condensed milk and hot water along with a pastry. Nora showed us to her middle school and walked me around, smile stretched across her face when I met her old art and english teachers. Kaka's eldest brother then took us to his primary school before we returned to their home. They readied themselves for their evening classes, gathering the belongings that they needed for another month before coming home. They then removed the husks from the six coconuts they gave us and continued to offer gifts. We were weighed down with six coconuts, four cucumbers, a bag of at least fifty chillis - which we thought, until Zoe ate raw and proceeded to leap around the room crying out in pain - were sweet peppers, five bottles of water and some utterly brilliant memories. The brothers drove us by bike the one hundred yards down the road to the bus stop, where we said our goodbyes and were waved off. Nora and Estelle giggled away and smiled, saying that their happiness was because they were so glad to have met us both and that we were lovely and very beautiful. Back home, there was still no water. With the little we had left in storage, we washed away the days dirt in buckets, filled to only a quarter full. Yesterday, we took two junior classes. All the teachers were at a staff meeting, giving the students the freedom to create as much mennace as they liked. It was utter mayhem. As soon as I walked into the classroom, there were cheers, cries, screams, shouts, claps, feet stamping, "I LOVE YOUs" and students leaping in all directions. My introduction ball game lapsed into yet more pandemonium, bringing out photos lead to students crawling over one another in order to look and my camera...well...I was almost suffocated by a class of seventy plus, chinese, fifteen year olds. Zoe arrived and they turned on her, I feared for our lives! I escaped to the class she had been taking, them being far more controlled, but still rising into a hyper fit on seeing my camera. Posing session over, we announced our departure and were then bombarded, some offering sweets, phone numbers, photos of themselves and one boy requested to keep a picture of me in China town! We stepped out into the monsoon, school grounds flooding and senior two students who, although in the building opposite where we had taken class, had clearly heard all the chaos and were waving frantically at our quickly soaking selves. By the time I got home, every part of my body ached, I was soaked to the skin and my eyes could barely stay open. I have never been so glad to lie on wooden planks in my life, although my back now suffers as a result. This week continues to be a hectic one; i'm tutoring some students after school twice a week for one hour, 'English Corner' tonight, meeting-up with Luis tomorrow evening, tea on Saturday, along with a party in honour of my father's 50th birthday and church on Sunday. Next week, I will no longer teach senior two, but will take some of Zoe's classes. In three/four weeks I will return to senior two, with only one lesson left to teach before leaving. How fast time is flying by, it's scary and sad that this experience will soon come to an end.