listening to the cure. waiting for my camera battery to charge just a little more. the rains came this morning. it's been days of Hot, perhaps pregnant hot.. my forehead is wet all day long and at night too; at the heat of the day, i feel drips of sweat running down my legs. i don't bother wearing antiperspirant; i just drink litres and litres of water instead.
so the rain came this morning. it was only for 30 minutes, but it brought a breeze that was cool. i tried to remember if i've felt the sensation reminiscent of 'cold' since i arrived here.
kris, the english woman i've stayed with for the past 3 nights, said that african rain always has the smell of spice to it.
i have to go. i'm headed up to meet Father Lazarus and his daughter, Hilya, who work with HIV positive home-bound patients. they get bikes donated from Bicycles for Humanity - the bikes come from Canada and the U.S. to BEN Namibia (which stands for Bicycle Empowerment Network), and then Father Lazarus and others sell the bikes or donate them to the volunteers to who visit their sick patients in their homes.
tomorrow i head back to Rundu. i'll be in Kerri's village for the weekend - one of her learners has a 'traditional village life' tour for us - we will pound the grain, mapongu, to prepare it for cooking, visit an ancestors' tree (more to come on that later), and generally kick it, namibian style.
i'm not sure what i'm doing next week; i think i'm visiting another Peace Corps volunteer's homestead and school. i'm trying to visit a refugee camp, Osire, where about 7,000 Angolan refugee are staying... but i think i'll be very lucky if they grant me permission to enter...
anyway, love you all. let me know if you want to meet me in europe oct. 12-28 ;)
Friday, October 02, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
grasping for here
it's hot. this morning we went swimming in the river, beside women bathing and doing their laundry. we made sure there weren't any crocodiles before stepping in.
i'm sunburned now. the fan's on. it's after 5:00, and all we did today was eat toast, drink tea, take some photos, swim in the river, walk to the bike shop, walk to lunch, come back to sarah's place.
tomorrow we're headed back to rundu, kerri's town. and then i'm off for a very cool development: i'm going to be visiting some Bicycles for Humanity sites (4 or 5 of them, i think) and taking pictures for a book. the backstory: Giselle, a brazilian journalist, is a friend of a Peace Corp volunteer here. she's been in namibia for the past 5 weeks, interviewing and taking pictures for a 'coffee table book' on the organization Bicycles for Humanity. the organization helps Namibian communities - it trains women in bike maintenance and repair; donates the bikes to nurses, who otherwise have to walk to their home-bound, HIV-positive clients houses. Giselle has some amazing stories about the ways people have become empowered through this project - a woman who never raised a dime for herself who is now a bike race champion; a disabled man is now able to support not only himself, but his family
as well...
after one month of interviews and picture-taking, and just a week before her flight home to Barcelona, Giselle's camera was stolen. so i'm going to go back to the people she met with, talk with them, hear their stories, take their pictures, and then have my photos published in their book. i leave on sunday, will come back to rundu on thursday.
i only have two more weeks here...
i was thinking about what i've seen, and how unsurprising it's all felt. women walk with buckets of water balanced on their heads. they carry babies on their backs, with bright, patterned fabric. they bathe at the riverside. in the car, we pass grass huts. everywhere we go, kids run up to me - a white woman with a camera around my neck, asking for me to take their picture. when we visit a school, they swarm me, fascinated with my white skin. people sit. the sun is red in the morning and evening.
in some strange way, i feel as if most everything i've seen, i've already seen, in a picture... from someone else's trip, from national geographic... it's all so different from life in denver, and yet it's not a surprise; it doesn't feel out of the ordinary because it's how i've always seen the 'landscape of africa'. i think i expected to find surprises - to arrive here, and see that it's different than what i had in my mind. but nope. the only surprise is that discomfort i feel from the interest people have in me because of my skin, race, and nationality. or what i don't understand about those dynamics here. that's to sort out later, i guess.
it's hit that beautiful moment of the evening. outside, someone's practicing the drums. i'm listening to Cat Power on iTunes. in a little while, we're going to cook curry and drink Windhoek Lager. i feel like i'm just touching this place, but don't understand it at all.
i'm sunburned now. the fan's on. it's after 5:00, and all we did today was eat toast, drink tea, take some photos, swim in the river, walk to the bike shop, walk to lunch, come back to sarah's place.
tomorrow we're headed back to rundu, kerri's town. and then i'm off for a very cool development: i'm going to be visiting some Bicycles for Humanity sites (4 or 5 of them, i think) and taking pictures for a book. the backstory: Giselle, a brazilian journalist, is a friend of a Peace Corp volunteer here. she's been in namibia for the past 5 weeks, interviewing and taking pictures for a 'coffee table book' on the organization Bicycles for Humanity. the organization helps Namibian communities - it trains women in bike maintenance and repair; donates the bikes to nurses, who otherwise have to walk to their home-bound, HIV-positive clients houses. Giselle has some amazing stories about the ways people have become empowered through this project - a woman who never raised a dime for herself who is now a bike race champion; a disabled man is now able to support not only himself, but his family
as well...
after one month of interviews and picture-taking, and just a week before her flight home to Barcelona, Giselle's camera was stolen. so i'm going to go back to the people she met with, talk with them, hear their stories, take their pictures, and then have my photos published in their book. i leave on sunday, will come back to rundu on thursday.
i only have two more weeks here...
i was thinking about what i've seen, and how unsurprising it's all felt. women walk with buckets of water balanced on their heads. they carry babies on their backs, with bright, patterned fabric. they bathe at the riverside. in the car, we pass grass huts. everywhere we go, kids run up to me - a white woman with a camera around my neck, asking for me to take their picture. when we visit a school, they swarm me, fascinated with my white skin. people sit. the sun is red in the morning and evening.
in some strange way, i feel as if most everything i've seen, i've already seen, in a picture... from someone else's trip, from national geographic... it's all so different from life in denver, and yet it's not a surprise; it doesn't feel out of the ordinary because it's how i've always seen the 'landscape of africa'. i think i expected to find surprises - to arrive here, and see that it's different than what i had in my mind. but nope. the only surprise is that discomfort i feel from the interest people have in me because of my skin, race, and nationality. or what i don't understand about those dynamics here. that's to sort out later, i guess.
it's hit that beautiful moment of the evening. outside, someone's practicing the drums. i'm listening to Cat Power on iTunes. in a little while, we're going to cook curry and drink Windhoek Lager. i feel like i'm just touching this place, but don't understand it at all.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
first southern african days
it's morning here. tuesday, i keep reminding myself, but the name of the day of the week doesn't really stick. i say it, and moments later, i have to think hard to remember again. is it sunday or saturday? those also don't really seem to 'apply' to the mode i'm on.
okay. so some of you are working right now. or, you're sleeping, i think, but will soon wake up to tuesday morning. i've been here in southern africa for 5-6 days now. arrived in namibia's capital city, windhoek, where kerri met me inside the airport - while i stood in line to get my entry stamp. outside on the road we put our packs on our backs, walked out into the afternoon sun -- i literally saw only the airport and car rental tents - not another building in sight. we walked on the left side of the road, stuck out our hands, and thus started our journey to-and-through botswana by hitch-hike, or 'hiking' as it's referred to here (it's common mode of travel in the region; we only have one more day of it, so worry not for my safety). that first afternoon, we got a lift from one africaaner (white people whose ancestors settled on the continent generations ago), caught a lift from Ishmael, then another from another couple, and arrived at the grocery of the home of another peace corps volunteer...
in the morning we sat in a 16-wheel bus with Andre, a man from Durbin, South Africa. he's from the Zulu tribe, was making the trip from northern namibia down to johannesburg... he played us traditional zulu music and, upon hearing about my brother's musical background, pulled out his favorite south african jazz... but mostly, for the 3 or 4 hours in his truck, we watched the road, talked a little about life, and what occupies his mind while he's on the road. while we drove between the namibian and botswanan border, he pointed out a group of army-green tents - refugees from DRC - living between two countries. i asked him what they were waiting for - were they waiting to enter namibia, to enter botswana? another place? andre said - they're waiting for peace to come to their home, and then they'll be going back.
mostly, what i've felt is how easy it is to be here compared to my recent travels to mongolia and china. i walk with my camera around my neck, kerri sticks her hand out to catch a lift with any passerby -and off we go, for another conversation, another entry into another tribe... i meet the dichotomy of being invited to feel safe, hop in any car, with the mental awareness (though w few visual indicators) that there's much more below the surface. visually, i'm in a place of peace. it's just the stories, that i hear bit by bit, that speak to a harder life.
we spent yesterday and the day before on the river. our guide, KT, 'pulled' us along in a mokorro. we were about 500 yards from an elephant. a praying mantis landed on my foot, a lime-green frog on my thigh. we were pulled along the reeds, in a flat, so flat, plain covered by water. with a long stick, he pulled his way 12 km to our camp spot. in the evening, we walked out to see wildbeast; in the morning, on a 4 hour walk, we saw first a herd of zebras - in the red of the african early morning sun - and then later as we walked, spotted a family of giraffe, zebra hanging out among em. they looked at us, ate, at each other, walked a bit, ate, looked around again.
today we're taking a plane ride over the delta. tomorrow we're headed up to kasane - and chobe national park.. on saturday (in however many days) we'll be in a village in namibia, spending time in a school - talking about gender equality, as part of an AIDS prevention training.
on sunday night, when our guide, KT, lit our fire (in about 20 seconds - dry wood and elephant dung), kerri and he exchanged stories about witch doctors - what they do, curses they've cast, people they've saved...
it's nice being w kerri. i'm so accustomed to being on 'high-alert' when i travel - because 1) mongolians warned me to be and 2) because my gut instincts don't apply when i'm not in my home - so i go on a higher mode of awareness just to assure my safety. but kerri has lived in the region for almost 3 years -so she knows what's safe, what's a risk... and putting our hand out and getting into the car w 2 botswanan men and a woman or a south african truck driver (sorry mom and dad) is only the start of another conversation, laughter, and exchange.
--
We all seek education because it grants us two gifts: access and realization. Just like a map, education’s first power is its ability to expose people to possibility; its second is its ability to enable people to arrive at their goals.
okay. so some of you are working right now. or, you're sleeping, i think, but will soon wake up to tuesday morning. i've been here in southern africa for 5-6 days now. arrived in namibia's capital city, windhoek, where kerri met me inside the airport - while i stood in line to get my entry stamp. outside on the road we put our packs on our backs, walked out into the afternoon sun -- i literally saw only the airport and car rental tents - not another building in sight. we walked on the left side of the road, stuck out our hands, and thus started our journey to-and-through botswana by hitch-hike, or 'hiking' as it's referred to here (it's common mode of travel in the region; we only have one more day of it, so worry not for my safety). that first afternoon, we got a lift from one africaaner (white people whose ancestors settled on the continent generations ago), caught a lift from Ishmael, then another from another couple, and arrived at the grocery of the home of another peace corps volunteer...
in the morning we sat in a 16-wheel bus with Andre, a man from Durbin, South Africa. he's from the Zulu tribe, was making the trip from northern namibia down to johannesburg... he played us traditional zulu music and, upon hearing about my brother's musical background, pulled out his favorite south african jazz... but mostly, for the 3 or 4 hours in his truck, we watched the road, talked a little about life, and what occupies his mind while he's on the road. while we drove between the namibian and botswanan border, he pointed out a group of army-green tents - refugees from DRC - living between two countries. i asked him what they were waiting for - were they waiting to enter namibia, to enter botswana? another place? andre said - they're waiting for peace to come to their home, and then they'll be going back.
mostly, what i've felt is how easy it is to be here compared to my recent travels to mongolia and china. i walk with my camera around my neck, kerri sticks her hand out to catch a lift with any passerby -and off we go, for another conversation, another entry into another tribe... i meet the dichotomy of being invited to feel safe, hop in any car, with the mental awareness (though w few visual indicators) that there's much more below the surface. visually, i'm in a place of peace. it's just the stories, that i hear bit by bit, that speak to a harder life.
we spent yesterday and the day before on the river. our guide, KT, 'pulled' us along in a mokorro. we were about 500 yards from an elephant. a praying mantis landed on my foot, a lime-green frog on my thigh. we were pulled along the reeds, in a flat, so flat, plain covered by water. with a long stick, he pulled his way 12 km to our camp spot. in the evening, we walked out to see wildbeast; in the morning, on a 4 hour walk, we saw first a herd of zebras - in the red of the african early morning sun - and then later as we walked, spotted a family of giraffe, zebra hanging out among em. they looked at us, ate, at each other, walked a bit, ate, looked around again.
today we're taking a plane ride over the delta. tomorrow we're headed up to kasane - and chobe national park.. on saturday (in however many days) we'll be in a village in namibia, spending time in a school - talking about gender equality, as part of an AIDS prevention training.
on sunday night, when our guide, KT, lit our fire (in about 20 seconds - dry wood and elephant dung), kerri and he exchanged stories about witch doctors - what they do, curses they've cast, people they've saved...
it's nice being w kerri. i'm so accustomed to being on 'high-alert' when i travel - because 1) mongolians warned me to be and 2) because my gut instincts don't apply when i'm not in my home - so i go on a higher mode of awareness just to assure my safety. but kerri has lived in the region for almost 3 years -so she knows what's safe, what's a risk... and putting our hand out and getting into the car w 2 botswanan men and a woman or a south african truck driver (sorry mom and dad) is only the start of another conversation, laughter, and exchange.
--
We all seek education because it grants us two gifts: access and realization. Just like a map, education’s first power is its ability to expose people to possibility; its second is its ability to enable people to arrive at their goals.
Monday, February 23, 2009
back
I probably shouldn't be writing right now; it's 2:11pm in the afternoon in Mongolia (15 hours ahead of Denver)... and here I am, back in Colorado. I've been back for almost two days.
I've tried to be outside as much as possible. I'm trying to get in rhythm with the sun, so that it doesn't take so long to feel 'normal' again...
on the plane, I met a Chinese-born man who's become a citizen of the UK. We talked about the market crash, and then he said: "Americans will hopefully learn a thing or two from this. In China, my parents' and everyone in their generation have spent their lives saving 50% of their income."
50%. That's an amazing number. I'm going to try to save 50% of my income from this week and feel how good that feels.
My flight was delayed. I spent an extra day in Mongolia, and then an extra one in Beijing. I realized that I know Beijing better than I know San Francisco. I took a cab from my hotel to the outermost point of the city subway; got lost for about three stops, but then got oriented and walked myself to the best street vendor in all the city (before then visiting a wonderful noodle shop, where a huge bowl of fresh, delicious noodles cost about $1.20.
I slept on the plane.
And now I'm home, listening to the washing machine begin to clean away the smell of coal that lingers...
I've tried to be outside as much as possible. I'm trying to get in rhythm with the sun, so that it doesn't take so long to feel 'normal' again...
on the plane, I met a Chinese-born man who's become a citizen of the UK. We talked about the market crash, and then he said: "Americans will hopefully learn a thing or two from this. In China, my parents' and everyone in their generation have spent their lives saving 50% of their income."
50%. That's an amazing number. I'm going to try to save 50% of my income from this week and feel how good that feels.
My flight was delayed. I spent an extra day in Mongolia, and then an extra one in Beijing. I realized that I know Beijing better than I know San Francisco. I took a cab from my hotel to the outermost point of the city subway; got lost for about three stops, but then got oriented and walked myself to the best street vendor in all the city (before then visiting a wonderful noodle shop, where a huge bowl of fresh, delicious noodles cost about $1.20.
I slept on the plane.
And now I'm home, listening to the washing machine begin to clean away the smell of coal that lingers...
Sunday, February 08, 2009
4-hour concert, hike to a hilltop, lama fist fight, chopin ballet, and an indian dinner
It was a full weekend:
- bought a snickers bar at a Buddhist Education Center
- attended a 4-hour concert on Friday night, complete with Mongolian pop singers, Italian opera, Mongolia soldiers' choir, throat singers, and Mongolian traditional dancers
- turned down offers of paper cups filled with pickle juice; managed three (small) bites of pig tongue on bread before admitting defeat
- cheered for the MRPAM staff soccer team on powdery, powdery snow
- hiked to the near-top of Nukht while learning about the advantages of the socialist system
- learned how to count to three in Mongolian -- during the most intense tug-a-war tournament I will likely ever witness in all my days
- sang along to 2Pac in the car ride home
- slept 12 hours
- walked in morning light up to Gandan Monastery to listen to the lamas chanting. witnessed a group of 8 to 10 year old boys in a punching/kicking fight, which wouldn't have been that remarkable --- except they were dressed in their lama robes just outside the monastery
- bought a kilo of frozen chicken legs and a half kilo of yellow and red bell peppers
- planned tomorrow's class
- met up w Mandah, Javkhaa, and Bayasaa to tour the Mongolian Natural History Museum. Saw the space suit of Mongolia's first astronaut (who's now serving in Parliament) and a collection of preserved beetles
- walked across Sukhbatar Square for the national Mongolian ballet company's Chopin performance...
sat between a Mongolian student and a Nepali man who's working on coordinating a national movement for grassroots small-scale miner advocates
- ate saag paneer and naan bread while talking about Nepali history and Mongolian geology
- walked home underneath a nearly-full moon, crossing the street 3 times and not getting hit once
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
The best alphabet song ever sung....
I visited Ena's mom's elementary school class today... They sang me the alphabet. Listen the whole way through. It was the sweetest thing, ever.
How many alphabets could you sing as a 2nd-grader?
How many alphabets could you sing as a 2nd-grader?
You may ask yourself, this is not my beautiful wife...
It's after 1:00am here; I stayed up really late last night reading and talking w Myrna Ann... today I got home, took a three-hour nap - something I haven't successfully done in months... maybe years.
When I woke up, it was dark, and I had NO idea where I was. Slowly, I remembered: Mongolia. Oh, yes, I'm in Mongolia...
My dream had been so vivid: in it, my dad had called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. In the dream, I was left remembering her, wanting to honor her with my thoughts, thinking of all the things I wanted her to know that I thought of her...
When I woke up it took me maybe 20 minutes to realize that she is still alive... I lied in bed, trying to sort through my world and existence: what is real in my life right now? What's happening - and what was just a dream?
It was a moment not that different from the Talking Heads song, "Once in a Lifetime": my disorientation was perhaps just as strong as it might have been had I woken up to discover a baby of my own crying in the next room, in a house on the Mediterranean Sea.
******
It's a weird feeling that sticks - it's hours later now, and I'm still thinking about it: that moment where you don't know who you are or what you're attached to or where you belong. I guess I like it when the pieces come back and assemble themselves: I find or remember my identity again, and then I wonder if I like myself...and I find that I do.
Do you know that feeling?
When I woke up, it was dark, and I had NO idea where I was. Slowly, I remembered: Mongolia. Oh, yes, I'm in Mongolia...
My dream had been so vivid: in it, my dad had called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. In the dream, I was left remembering her, wanting to honor her with my thoughts, thinking of all the things I wanted her to know that I thought of her...
When I woke up it took me maybe 20 minutes to realize that she is still alive... I lied in bed, trying to sort through my world and existence: what is real in my life right now? What's happening - and what was just a dream?
It was a moment not that different from the Talking Heads song, "Once in a Lifetime": my disorientation was perhaps just as strong as it might have been had I woken up to discover a baby of my own crying in the next room, in a house on the Mediterranean Sea.
******
It's a weird feeling that sticks - it's hours later now, and I'm still thinking about it: that moment where you don't know who you are or what you're attached to or where you belong. I guess I like it when the pieces come back and assemble themselves: I find or remember my identity again, and then I wonder if I like myself...and I find that I do.
Do you know that feeling?
Sunday, February 01, 2009
buuz and gay pride
Hi.
It's Sunday night here. I just finished making some football idiom games for tomorrow's class, am about to pass out...
Tomorrow morning I'm meeting my students at the Grand Khan Irish Pub. For those of you who might have forgotten that I'm in Mongolia, that's "Khan"- as in "Chinngis Khan."
Eagle TV, Baika's news station, is sponsoring an American Super Bowl party. Nevermind that the game starts at 7:00 am Monday morning, Ulaanbaatar time. The pub will be open, and diehard American football fanatics will be there to watch the game. Them, and my English class. I'll let you know how it goes.
It was a fun weekend. I went to the Mongolian opera last night, which was awesome, and today Manlai and some of his friends picked me up at noon to take me to his uncle's "summer home". We drove outside of UB, where the air is fresh, and I finally met his mother. She cooked us mutton and buuz (Mongolian meat dumplings).
I was home for about 10 minutes this evening when Zula came to pick me up. Out we went to Dublin's (yes, they love the Irish here) and then to "Level", a very trendy club off of Peace Ave. I think she is about the most wonderful person I've ever known. She's such an independent, thoughtful person. Very strong, creative, and tremendously intelligent.
Here's why I love her:
I use my laptop and LCD projector in my class. During a 10 minute break on Thursday, I was skimming an article on the NYTimes, and one of my students gasped, pointed at the words "same-sex marriage", and then covered her mouth as she started to laugh. Other students looked, and were very confused: "Same-sex marriage??? What is that?"
I explained, carefully and slowly, that one of the current civil rights movements in the U.S. is for the homosexual community. People are gay and lesbian, and they want to have equal rights as heterosexual Americans. Some of my students nodded solemnly, trying to be respectful, I think, but many of them -adults in their 20s and 30s- couldn't do anything but laugh.
I wasn't offended; it obviously was the first time, in their lives, they heard about the concept. It was totally, completely bizarre to them.
When I asked, already knowing the answer, if Mongolian law protected or supported the gay community, one of my students said: "I don't think we have gay people here."
So that's the backstory. When I met up with Zula tonight, the first thing she told me was about going to a gay parade and bar yesterday. Talk about an underground scene. One of her girlfriends invited her to the event, and Zula thought it sounded fun and interesting... so they went. When she studied in St. Petersburg, she had gay friends; this was, however, her first time in her life meeting openly gay people in Mongolia.
I loved getting to hear her talk about everyone at the bar - it was sweet because it was such a new experience for her (that she loved) and because she also had to search for the English words to describe it to me: "Some of the men were very beautiful. If you looked at them at first, they looked like men. But if you looked longer, you could see they had a kind of feminine beauty."
Mongolia has to be one of the hardest places in the world for homosexuals. It's people like Zula who will bring it around.
It's Sunday night here. I just finished making some football idiom games for tomorrow's class, am about to pass out...
Tomorrow morning I'm meeting my students at the Grand Khan Irish Pub. For those of you who might have forgotten that I'm in Mongolia, that's "Khan"- as in "Chinngis Khan."
Eagle TV, Baika's news station, is sponsoring an American Super Bowl party. Nevermind that the game starts at 7:00 am Monday morning, Ulaanbaatar time. The pub will be open, and diehard American football fanatics will be there to watch the game. Them, and my English class. I'll let you know how it goes.
It was a fun weekend. I went to the Mongolian opera last night, which was awesome, and today Manlai and some of his friends picked me up at noon to take me to his uncle's "summer home". We drove outside of UB, where the air is fresh, and I finally met his mother. She cooked us mutton and buuz (Mongolian meat dumplings).
I was home for about 10 minutes this evening when Zula came to pick me up. Out we went to Dublin's (yes, they love the Irish here) and then to "Level", a very trendy club off of Peace Ave. I think she is about the most wonderful person I've ever known. She's such an independent, thoughtful person. Very strong, creative, and tremendously intelligent.
Here's why I love her:
I use my laptop and LCD projector in my class. During a 10 minute break on Thursday, I was skimming an article on the NYTimes, and one of my students gasped, pointed at the words "same-sex marriage", and then covered her mouth as she started to laugh. Other students looked, and were very confused: "Same-sex marriage??? What is that?"
I explained, carefully and slowly, that one of the current civil rights movements in the U.S. is for the homosexual community. People are gay and lesbian, and they want to have equal rights as heterosexual Americans. Some of my students nodded solemnly, trying to be respectful, I think, but many of them -adults in their 20s and 30s- couldn't do anything but laugh.
I wasn't offended; it obviously was the first time, in their lives, they heard about the concept. It was totally, completely bizarre to them.
When I asked, already knowing the answer, if Mongolian law protected or supported the gay community, one of my students said: "I don't think we have gay people here."
So that's the backstory. When I met up with Zula tonight, the first thing she told me was about going to a gay parade and bar yesterday. Talk about an underground scene. One of her girlfriends invited her to the event, and Zula thought it sounded fun and interesting... so they went. When she studied in St. Petersburg, she had gay friends; this was, however, her first time in her life meeting openly gay people in Mongolia.
I loved getting to hear her talk about everyone at the bar - it was sweet because it was such a new experience for her (that she loved) and because she also had to search for the English words to describe it to me: "Some of the men were very beautiful. If you looked at them at first, they looked like men. But if you looked longer, you could see they had a kind of feminine beauty."
Mongolia has to be one of the hardest places in the world for homosexuals. It's people like Zula who will bring it around.
Monday, January 26, 2009
off for some country music
As many of you know, I would only attend (and admit to attending) a county music show... in Mongolia. I taught class this morning, graded exams, prepped for tomorrow, and now I'm going to walk back to MRPAM, where I'm meeting Ena.
At 6:30 we're driving over to the Wrestling Palace to catch traditional Mongolian country music.
P.S. I missed a Yes! concert on Saturday. Can't win em all...
P.S.S. I've been a little homesick over the past day or two, so I think this'll help. The moment of homesickness came on when I realized that:
1) I haven't had a single stranger hold open a door for me in the past 3 weeks (perhaps it's to keep as little cold air as possible from seeping inside)
and
2) when I tried to explain the word "acknowledge" to my students last Friday, I thought I could explain it by describing different ways we 'acknowledge' the people we pass in the hallways (quick smile, head nod, short eye contact). My students remained confused. "Acknowledge?" Yeah, people don't really do that to strangers in Mongolia...
I'm lucky to have such good friends here - they really are wonderful, fun, good people... but I'm ready to be in the cocoon of friends and family and community in Denver. I've still got 5 more weeks, so I best be making the best of it!
At 6:30 we're driving over to the Wrestling Palace to catch traditional Mongolian country music.
P.S. I missed a Yes! concert on Saturday. Can't win em all...
P.S.S. I've been a little homesick over the past day or two, so I think this'll help. The moment of homesickness came on when I realized that:
1) I haven't had a single stranger hold open a door for me in the past 3 weeks (perhaps it's to keep as little cold air as possible from seeping inside)
and
2) when I tried to explain the word "acknowledge" to my students last Friday, I thought I could explain it by describing different ways we 'acknowledge' the people we pass in the hallways (quick smile, head nod, short eye contact). My students remained confused. "Acknowledge?" Yeah, people don't really do that to strangers in Mongolia...
I'm lucky to have such good friends here - they really are wonderful, fun, good people... but I'm ready to be in the cocoon of friends and family and community in Denver. I've still got 5 more weeks, so I best be making the best of it!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
a great book, awful movie, and more of Mongolia
What a strange night.
I started and finished "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" this evening. I have no idea how I managed, but I had never, ever picked up the book before... I realized about a third of the way through it what cruel thing I'd done to myself: I'd picked up the first of a series that I would definitely want to read more of... except I'm in Mongolia, and I don't think I'll be breathing anywhere close to another Harry Potter book until I'm in the Beijing or L.A. airport. That's not until the end of February.
So I finished the book, and then felt like moping. The Twilight Zone episode of the man with glasses, also came to mind: he who wanted nothing but to have time to read his books; but in the last scene, when his dream has actually come true, he steps forward toward the city library and shatters his glasses - "all the time to read in world, but unable to read a word".
After finishing Harry Potter tonight, I felt a little like that. Perhaps I was being a little dramatic.
But anway. Okay, so after I finished reading a magical, whimsical tale that I loved, I watched a terrible, horrible movie, The Black Dahlia, with Hilary Swank and Scarlet Johannsen. SO terrible. Think of the enthusiasm that people have for Harry Potter, and then put an equal/mirror amount to figure out just how bad this movie was. And for all you people like me, who might then become interested in seeing what exactly makes a movie so dreadful, save it. It was SO creepy that now I need to reread Harry Potter and take a bubble bath to cleanse some part of my soul. Yuck.
In other news, I went to Ena's house today. Her parents made me khorshel (fried meat dumplings) and 'salad' (equal parts potatoes and mutton, with some pieces of hard boiled egg). They live outside of UB by about 20 minutes; after we ate and watched several routines of Russian couple figure ice-skating on the Russian sports channel, Ena and I ventured outside to fetch water for her parents. It was -30 degrees today. I could swear that it felt colder.
It was wonderful being with her family. Her father is a champion Mongolian wrestler; her mother teaches language arts at an elementary school. I asked if I could visit her classes, and she got very excited. I'll be visiting sometime in the next week or so with Ena...
I think I'll read something by Dr. Seuss.
Yesterday I cooked dinner for group of 8. Everyone came over to my apartment; beforehand, I went out to the wonderful, truly Mongolian market that's about a 10-minute walk away. I bought 2 kilos of chicken legs from a woman gnawing on a pork chop (cooked), as she ate over the horse innards, sheep heads, mutton meat, and fish (uncooked). That was incredible, and one of the most memorable moments of my life. Seriously.
I also managed to find broccoli from one of the vendors.... and through the whole experience, I realized just how Ena and all my Mongolian friends have been my guides to this place; they have helped me so much to navigate it.
Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Tsogt, a Mongolian man who studied English at Spring last year (while I was here for the first time), and then I'm supposed to go to the Wrestling Palace (yay Mongolian wrestling!) and then afterward, if I'm lucky, Ena and I will go to a Mongolian country music concert at the Circus (although you likely know nothing about this kind of music, if you're not Chris Tombari, you should be excited for me).
Next week's going to be another good week. I've been looking at some horseback riding trekking outfitters, and I think I might brave the violently arctic temperatures to get a weekend day of riding in (or even to do a 'real' hut trip from ger to ger). I'll keep you posted.
I started and finished "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" this evening. I have no idea how I managed, but I had never, ever picked up the book before... I realized about a third of the way through it what cruel thing I'd done to myself: I'd picked up the first of a series that I would definitely want to read more of... except I'm in Mongolia, and I don't think I'll be breathing anywhere close to another Harry Potter book until I'm in the Beijing or L.A. airport. That's not until the end of February.
So I finished the book, and then felt like moping. The Twilight Zone episode of the man with glasses, also came to mind: he who wanted nothing but to have time to read his books; but in the last scene, when his dream has actually come true, he steps forward toward the city library and shatters his glasses - "all the time to read in world, but unable to read a word".
After finishing Harry Potter tonight, I felt a little like that. Perhaps I was being a little dramatic.
But anway. Okay, so after I finished reading a magical, whimsical tale that I loved, I watched a terrible, horrible movie, The Black Dahlia, with Hilary Swank and Scarlet Johannsen. SO terrible. Think of the enthusiasm that people have for Harry Potter, and then put an equal/mirror amount to figure out just how bad this movie was. And for all you people like me, who might then become interested in seeing what exactly makes a movie so dreadful, save it. It was SO creepy that now I need to reread Harry Potter and take a bubble bath to cleanse some part of my soul. Yuck.
In other news, I went to Ena's house today. Her parents made me khorshel (fried meat dumplings) and 'salad' (equal parts potatoes and mutton, with some pieces of hard boiled egg). They live outside of UB by about 20 minutes; after we ate and watched several routines of Russian couple figure ice-skating on the Russian sports channel, Ena and I ventured outside to fetch water for her parents. It was -30 degrees today. I could swear that it felt colder.
It was wonderful being with her family. Her father is a champion Mongolian wrestler; her mother teaches language arts at an elementary school. I asked if I could visit her classes, and she got very excited. I'll be visiting sometime in the next week or so with Ena...
I think I'll read something by Dr. Seuss.Yesterday I cooked dinner for group of 8. Everyone came over to my apartment; beforehand, I went out to the wonderful, truly Mongolian market that's about a 10-minute walk away. I bought 2 kilos of chicken legs from a woman gnawing on a pork chop (cooked), as she ate over the horse innards, sheep heads, mutton meat, and fish (uncooked). That was incredible, and one of the most memorable moments of my life. Seriously.
I also managed to find broccoli from one of the vendors.... and through the whole experience, I realized just how Ena and all my Mongolian friends have been my guides to this place; they have helped me so much to navigate it.
Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Tsogt, a Mongolian man who studied English at Spring last year (while I was here for the first time), and then I'm supposed to go to the Wrestling Palace (yay Mongolian wrestling!) and then afterward, if I'm lucky, Ena and I will go to a Mongolian country music concert at the Circus (although you likely know nothing about this kind of music, if you're not Chris Tombari, you should be excited for me).
Next week's going to be another good week. I've been looking at some horseback riding trekking outfitters, and I think I might brave the violently arctic temperatures to get a weekend day of riding in (or even to do a 'real' hut trip from ger to ger). I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
back to substance
I just wrote a rather pointless post about the weather... and realized that while I've been talking w some of you about last night (yesterday's) inauguration ceremony, I haven't commented on here.
I thought I would cry, but I managed to keep my cool. I will say that I have never felt more American - claimed that identity, been proud of it for all that it might symbolize now and in the future (so different from what it's meant to me, since being 18 years old when W. was first elected).
As I mentioned to Andrew in an email today, I felt that Obama's oath was something that I was a part of - that I experienced with him. I guess it was a prayer that I made for him and this new beginning for our country, but more than that, it was also a personal commitment - something that was somehow active and participatory for me.
Here in Mongolia, watching from my TV in the middle of the night... feeling ownership and belonging in that moment... so physically far away from all of you, yet covered in a feeling of being more connected, bound to a place, a people, a country than I ever thought possible. Feeling pride in nation for what it is today (not some lost time of the past).
Everyone has their comments. (I was thinking about the political commentary as ironically emulating the stock market's swelling, bubble - again, that human psychology of mass opinions - one opinion stated, followed by a hoard of the same opinion behind it). And, of course, much of the commentary I agree with.
But from a personal level, I think Obama's success will ultimately come from the feeling that came to me last night, echoed in millions of other Americans (who somehow do belong to each other in a massive, diverse, swarming family). That pull to action, inspiration to contribute - that feeling that came within me is how we're going to reclaim our country, heal, become united.
I talked with Zula about it tonight, and she was happy for me and tried to understand. I talked with Ena about it every day this week, and she nodded; said she too was happy for me and the American people... We read MLK's I Have a Dream speech in my class on Monday, and during all these exchanges, I understood that it was impossible to explain the two feelings that so many of us have:
a disbelief that W. is gone (and a hope to never hear his voice again, a hope to wipe him from consciousness)
and
a thankfulness that we are where we are. And that I can use the word "we".
I thought I would cry, but I managed to keep my cool. I will say that I have never felt more American - claimed that identity, been proud of it for all that it might symbolize now and in the future (so different from what it's meant to me, since being 18 years old when W. was first elected).
As I mentioned to Andrew in an email today, I felt that Obama's oath was something that I was a part of - that I experienced with him. I guess it was a prayer that I made for him and this new beginning for our country, but more than that, it was also a personal commitment - something that was somehow active and participatory for me.
Here in Mongolia, watching from my TV in the middle of the night... feeling ownership and belonging in that moment... so physically far away from all of you, yet covered in a feeling of being more connected, bound to a place, a people, a country than I ever thought possible. Feeling pride in nation for what it is today (not some lost time of the past).
Everyone has their comments. (I was thinking about the political commentary as ironically emulating the stock market's swelling, bubble - again, that human psychology of mass opinions - one opinion stated, followed by a hoard of the same opinion behind it). And, of course, much of the commentary I agree with.
But from a personal level, I think Obama's success will ultimately come from the feeling that came to me last night, echoed in millions of other Americans (who somehow do belong to each other in a massive, diverse, swarming family). That pull to action, inspiration to contribute - that feeling that came within me is how we're going to reclaim our country, heal, become united.
I talked with Zula about it tonight, and she was happy for me and tried to understand. I talked with Ena about it every day this week, and she nodded; said she too was happy for me and the American people... We read MLK's I Have a Dream speech in my class on Monday, and during all these exchanges, I understood that it was impossible to explain the two feelings that so many of us have:
a disbelief that W. is gone (and a hope to never hear his voice again, a hope to wipe him from consciousness)
and
a thankfulness that we are where we are. And that I can use the word "we".
about this evening
what would you think if I told you about tonight?
Zula and I had a dinner date at my apartment; I came home, got busy working on class materials, reading a little more, and generally pretending that I'm retired ('busy' teaching, but not with much else).
It was about 6 when I realized that I didn't have any food in my apartment (somethings never change, no matter where you are); it was time to strike out for the State Department Store, which is about a kilometer from my post.
It was -40 tonight. That's an amazing temperature to experience. What was more amazing was that I decided to walk (rather than take a cab).
These were my two options:
1. Walk on the icy sidewalks for 20 minutes in temperatures sensational (and sometimes numbing too)
or
2. Catch a 'cab' (i.e. stick out my hand for any privately owned car driving along Peace Ave.) and sit in the stunning UB traffic for, perhaps, 30 minutes, maybe more. And pay 1000 tugriks ($.80).
The other notable part of the outing was when I entered the State Department Store. I was wearing my glasses (the frame of which had been 'burning' my skin from the cold), and in Denver and everywhere else I've every lived I've grown accustomed to 'measuring' the cold based on how quickly they fog up when I enter a building.
When I walked into the State Department Store, I realized that they've never, ever fogged up here: we're too close to the Gobi - they stay clear even when going from -40 to 60 degrees in 2 seconds.
Is that interesting? Maybe not. I have to amuse myself here.
On my walk home, I laughed it was so fascinatingly cold. How does it DO that? I wondered. maybe giggled.
***************
And, another thing you're missing out:
the cucumber and bacon pizza with cheesewhiz on top that I foolishly ate last night.
That was another spectacular thing.
Zula and I had a dinner date at my apartment; I came home, got busy working on class materials, reading a little more, and generally pretending that I'm retired ('busy' teaching, but not with much else).
It was about 6 when I realized that I didn't have any food in my apartment (somethings never change, no matter where you are); it was time to strike out for the State Department Store, which is about a kilometer from my post.
It was -40 tonight. That's an amazing temperature to experience. What was more amazing was that I decided to walk (rather than take a cab).
These were my two options:
1. Walk on the icy sidewalks for 20 minutes in temperatures sensational (and sometimes numbing too)
or
2. Catch a 'cab' (i.e. stick out my hand for any privately owned car driving along Peace Ave.) and sit in the stunning UB traffic for, perhaps, 30 minutes, maybe more. And pay 1000 tugriks ($.80).
The other notable part of the outing was when I entered the State Department Store. I was wearing my glasses (the frame of which had been 'burning' my skin from the cold), and in Denver and everywhere else I've every lived I've grown accustomed to 'measuring' the cold based on how quickly they fog up when I enter a building.
When I walked into the State Department Store, I realized that they've never, ever fogged up here: we're too close to the Gobi - they stay clear even when going from -40 to 60 degrees in 2 seconds.
Is that interesting? Maybe not. I have to amuse myself here.
On my walk home, I laughed it was so fascinatingly cold. How does it DO that? I wondered. maybe giggled.
***************
And, another thing you're missing out:
the cucumber and bacon pizza with cheesewhiz on top that I foolishly ate last night.
That was another spectacular thing.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday Night Reunion
Two of my favorite people...
Zula, Ena, and me
Manlai, Zula, Anar, Ena, Nyamtsend, me, and Tuvshin at the "Great Mongolian"Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
$3 Cokes and Mariah Carey music videos
I just got home from California Restaurant, located about two blocks from my apartment. I'd been in my apartment all afternoon (reading, mostly), and when it came time to finish prepping for tomorrow's class, I wanted to get out.
California Restaurant mimics the 'average American diner'. My Mongolia guidebook explains that its menu is designed after those of "Denny's", and somehow here, where there still is no such thing as McDonald's or Starbucks, it's actually nice to find a place that serves food that isn't Mongolian or Korean. I sat at the bar, ordered a chicken sandwich, coke, and started typing up my lessons... aware all along that Mongolians typically don't go to public places (restaurants) with their computers to do work. I think I got a lot of looks, but I decided not to worry about it.
Sometimes I want to adapt to Mongolian culture, and sometimes I'm perfectly happy maintaining my own.
The fun part was the music video selection. Tonight from my perch, I watched a full collection of Mariah Carey music videos, and had a little fun picturing what one would know or understand of American culture, through 1) her music and 2) her dancing...
California Restaurant mimics the 'average American diner'. My Mongolia guidebook explains that its menu is designed after those of "Denny's", and somehow here, where there still is no such thing as McDonald's or Starbucks, it's actually nice to find a place that serves food that isn't Mongolian or Korean. I sat at the bar, ordered a chicken sandwich, coke, and started typing up my lessons... aware all along that Mongolians typically don't go to public places (restaurants) with their computers to do work. I think I got a lot of looks, but I decided not to worry about it.
Sometimes I want to adapt to Mongolian culture, and sometimes I'm perfectly happy maintaining my own.
The fun part was the music video selection. Tonight from my perch, I watched a full collection of Mariah Carey music videos, and had a little fun picturing what one would know or understand of American culture, through 1) her music and 2) her dancing...
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Wouldn't Italy be nice this time of year?
I visited the Bodg Khan Palace Museum today with Ena and Aagi. The museum charges Mongolians $1.00 for admission, $4.50 for foreigners, and an additional $10 to take pictures anywhere on the grounds (what?). I decided to skip paying the $10, but took a few pictures anyway. (Before you start judging, I didn't use my flash. And paying $10 would have been ridiculous).There were two sections of the museum: the summer palace (a series of uninsulated buildings connected to each other) and the winter palace (a two-level winter home). I assure you that visiting the 'summer palace' in January was not the best of plans. After a painful 10 minutes outside (all three of us pretending we weren't going into shock), I started to develop a growing fear of losing my nose and chin to frostbite and we decided to give up on that part of the tour.
Inside the warmer, insulated Winter Palace, we spied maps of Ulan Bator in 1910, traditional dels (traditional Mongolian dress) adorned with coral, pearls, silver, and gold, and a room full of taxidermied animals from South America, Central Asia, and Africa. I'm sure several of the exotic-looking birds I saw (but didn't photograph) are now extinct.I was thankful to be with my Mongolian tour guides; while there was posted information along the walls in English, Ena and Aagi were able to narrate and explain so much more about the underlying importance of all we saw. For example: one case contained three bowls (all about the size of large salad bowls). The English enscription read, "Punishment Bowls." I scratched my head. Ena explained. If a person of the court did something worthy of punishment, he would have to drink a bowl full of airag (fermented mare's milk). Now how would I have known that without Ena?
Afterward I nearly gave myself hypothermia waiting for Sara in front of the Chinngis Khan statue in Sukhbaatar Square. Sara arrived yesterday from Denver, and she'll be teaching here at the National University of Mongolia for the next 6 months. She's a geographer, about to start her Ph.D. For her dissertation, she's studying the spread of English throughout the developing world, focusing on Mongolia. She seems to be in a degree of shock that, of all the developing countries on the earth, she decided to come to here... now. She was wondering why she couldn't have instead ventured to Laos or Vietnam, where it surely wasn't -10 today?
After she arrived (I really almost had to stand her up, the pain of the cold was so intense today), we walked along the icy sidewalks to the Grand Khan Irish Pub, a landmark in these parts...
But one can't really complain about the cold here. It's Mongolia in January: what do you expect? I have found myself wondering, sometimes with amusement and sometimes befuddlement, if I could have journeyed to a more difficult place if I tried.
Friday, January 09, 2009
missing out on the countryside...
I'm trying to get over my disappointment, but it's a little hard to do: I was tremendously excited about visiting the herdsmen with Baika (see two entries down)... it turns out they're leaving tomorrow, not to return until Wednesday next week. To me, it sounded like the trip of a lifetime (seriously, who gets to be taken by Mongolian journalists, along with WSJ reporters, to interview traditional Mongolian nomads in the middle of the Altai?). I was so, so excited for the experience, but because I teach Monday-Friday, I'm missing out. Oh, the unfortunate drawback to being here for work.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with my weekend instead. Every other weekend that I'll be here, I'm sure that I'll be busy with various fun activities (trips to the countryside, day outings to Turelij, day-long Mongolian wrestling competitions, etc.)... but for this first weekend, I think it's going to be a little tame. I should be thankful to have one last quiet weekend- the number of invitations I'll be getting soon will be overwhelming... that's just the way Mongolia is.
In the meantime, I thought you'd all be interested in hearing about some skills I've developed (and will be developing) since returning to UB:
1. learning how to walk. Considering the sheets of ice that cover the sidewalks, this will be no small feat. Mongolians intentionally slide along the ice as they go, taking several steps, sliding, a few more steps, sliding again (a skill they surely developed shortly after learning to walk, when they were much closer to the ground)... this method of movement wouldn't be so notable, except that Mongolian women do this in high-heeled boots, intentionally sliding on the ice as they go (picture those kids' shoes with the wheel on the back; the women do this on ice, in heels). The sidewalks around UB are, consequently, smoother than any other ice I've encountered, though they are sliced/cut up from all those spiky black boots.
I'm not going to master the sliding-on-ice-in-heels (or any other shoe) part, but I would like to be able to walk around with a little more confidence.
2. surviving the strong handshake from any Mongolian man. So far, I was 'injured' twice after a few of my younger male students shook (squeezed) my hand. I remembered what the word "throb" truly means; the pain lasted for about 30 minutes to 1 hour... and then I felt even worse because I realized that I can now identify a little more strongly with Cindy McCain...
3. learning how to cross the street... more on that later
There was more I thought I wanted to say, but to be honest, I realized yesterday that there isn't that much to adjust to. Sure, I don't speak Mongolian, people's concept of time is erratically similar or different to my own (it's the inconsistency that's the confusing part), and I definitely have to be more pushy when I go through a line at a store (check any stereotypes of 'passive Asian' at the door)... but this really is a different experience from last time.
When I was here a year ago, I was always inspecting the cultural differences between Mongolia and the U.S. I felt I was in such a different world; it was foreign- exotic, even. But this time, I don't know if there's much to adapt to. I want to learn more about the country and the people, but in the way I would feel comfortable spending 2 months in Atlanta or LA, I feel the same way about UB. Life is life. People are people.
But it's easier because people here are so hospitable. When I think about it, I think I'd be lonely if I were to spend the same amount of time in some random American city. Sure, I'd find my way around and entertain myself, but as I think about it, Mongolians are, without question, some of the warmest, friendliest people on Earth.
Off to Nayra's Coffee Shop for some reading (this is, mind you, a vacation from My Life), and then, perhaps, on to having a beer at the Irish bar across the street from the circus.
P.S. The pictures I took today remind me that I am in a pretty different world. After class today I ate some of the horse meat that Toshiba brought to the office (it's in the plastic bag in the picture above) and then sipped 'Chingis Khan' vodka...
After that, Ena showed me an old photo of her grandfather, who was a famous and revered wrestler (think of Japan's sumo wrestling culture - in the same way, wrestlers are national treasures here).
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with my weekend instead. Every other weekend that I'll be here, I'm sure that I'll be busy with various fun activities (trips to the countryside, day outings to Turelij, day-long Mongolian wrestling competitions, etc.)... but for this first weekend, I think it's going to be a little tame. I should be thankful to have one last quiet weekend- the number of invitations I'll be getting soon will be overwhelming... that's just the way Mongolia is.
In the meantime, I thought you'd all be interested in hearing about some skills I've developed (and will be developing) since returning to UB:
1. learning how to walk. Considering the sheets of ice that cover the sidewalks, this will be no small feat. Mongolians intentionally slide along the ice as they go, taking several steps, sliding, a few more steps, sliding again (a skill they surely developed shortly after learning to walk, when they were much closer to the ground)... this method of movement wouldn't be so notable, except that Mongolian women do this in high-heeled boots, intentionally sliding on the ice as they go (picture those kids' shoes with the wheel on the back; the women do this on ice, in heels). The sidewalks around UB are, consequently, smoother than any other ice I've encountered, though they are sliced/cut up from all those spiky black boots.
I'm not going to master the sliding-on-ice-in-heels (or any other shoe) part, but I would like to be able to walk around with a little more confidence.
2. surviving the strong handshake from any Mongolian man. So far, I was 'injured' twice after a few of my younger male students shook (squeezed) my hand. I remembered what the word "throb" truly means; the pain lasted for about 30 minutes to 1 hour... and then I felt even worse because I realized that I can now identify a little more strongly with Cindy McCain...
3. learning how to cross the street... more on that later
There was more I thought I wanted to say, but to be honest, I realized yesterday that there isn't that much to adjust to. Sure, I don't speak Mongolian, people's concept of time is erratically similar or different to my own (it's the inconsistency that's the confusing part), and I definitely have to be more pushy when I go through a line at a store (check any stereotypes of 'passive Asian' at the door)... but this really is a different experience from last time.
When I was here a year ago, I was always inspecting the cultural differences between Mongolia and the U.S. I felt I was in such a different world; it was foreign- exotic, even. But this time, I don't know if there's much to adapt to. I want to learn more about the country and the people, but in the way I would feel comfortable spending 2 months in Atlanta or LA, I feel the same way about UB. Life is life. People are people.
But it's easier because people here are so hospitable. When I think about it, I think I'd be lonely if I were to spend the same amount of time in some random American city. Sure, I'd find my way around and entertain myself, but as I think about it, Mongolians are, without question, some of the warmest, friendliest people on Earth.
Off to Nayra's Coffee Shop for some reading (this is, mind you, a vacation from My Life), and then, perhaps, on to having a beer at the Irish bar across the street from the circus.
P.S. The pictures I took today remind me that I am in a pretty different world. After class today I ate some of the horse meat that Toshiba brought to the office (it's in the plastic bag in the picture above) and then sipped 'Chingis Khan' vodka...
After that, Ena showed me an old photo of her grandfather, who was a famous and revered wrestler (think of Japan's sumo wrestling culture - in the same way, wrestlers are national treasures here).
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
A mouthful of teeth
We went to the indoor market on Sunday. When I was in UB last year, I shopped at a regular grocery store, one not too different from an American one (apart from the lack of produce, ha!). On Sunday I discovered where Mongolians 'really' shop, and I felt like I'd come across a secret, underground world: nearly a full square block, two stories high, of rooms and shops with individual merchants selling items ranging from piles of ground mutton meat to ginger-wrapped candies to cotton bras to leather boots. I was definitely the only foreigner in a place crowded with well over 200 people, milling from purchase to purchase... and I felt very fortunate to have Ena at my side as my guide.
In the second room, the first thing I saw on the counter was a large tray - filled with what I knew could only be intestines from some large mammal. I asked Ena; horse intestine, came the reply. Yep, I guess that's what horse intestine would look like...
Next were chicken legs, then chicken breast, then came the pile of frozen heads with cloudy eyes and a mouthful of teeth still intact. They might have been arranged in a pyramid, if I remember correctly.
"And what are those?" I asked, swallowing
Ena's reply: "Sheep heads. [looks at me, as my face turns white and I become queasy]... No, really, they're very good. You should try some while you're here this time."
I swallow again, smiling at her, wanting to believe
"My mom will make it for you. It goes in a soup."
So I'll be having sheep head soup sometime while I'm here.
If I saw 'sheep head soup' on a menu, I would be disgusted. But if Ena's mom makes it for me, the second American to have ever entered her home, there's something special about that, you know?
In the second room, the first thing I saw on the counter was a large tray - filled with what I knew could only be intestines from some large mammal. I asked Ena; horse intestine, came the reply. Yep, I guess that's what horse intestine would look like...
Next were chicken legs, then chicken breast, then came the pile of frozen heads with cloudy eyes and a mouthful of teeth still intact. They might have been arranged in a pyramid, if I remember correctly.
"And what are those?" I asked, swallowing
Ena's reply: "Sheep heads. [looks at me, as my face turns white and I become queasy]... No, really, they're very good. You should try some while you're here this time."
I swallow again, smiling at her, wanting to believe
"My mom will make it for you. It goes in a soup."
So I'll be having sheep head soup sometime while I'm here.
If I saw 'sheep head soup' on a menu, I would be disgusted. But if Ena's mom makes it for me, the second American to have ever entered her home, there's something special about that, you know?
A little bit of randomness
I just got back from eating with Baika at California Restaurant. He and I spent a lot of time together when I was here last year; he lived in Denver, parts of California, and Iowa for about 10 years before returning to Mongolia last year. He works for Eagle TV, a major independent news source for the country.... and oh, how he is always up to interesting things, doing good work:
On Friday, he's meeting a reporter from the Wall Street Journal who's coming to do an article on human trafficking among herders in the countryside. Apparently Mongolia has one of the highest numbers in the world of human trafficking victims (per capita? I'm not sure)... as I understand it, many nomadic herders have loans with Mongolian banks to get through hard winters, etc. With the world prices for wool, furs, and other products on the decline, many herders have been going bankrupt -and for collateral, the banks are seizing their livestock, herders' only means of livelihood.
Right now it's unclear to me if the families feel forced to 'sell' their daughters, or if the young girls are being kidnapped by outsiders... either way, in these fairly dire circumstances, according to Baika, these herders' young daughters are being smuggled to Southeast Asian countries. When the girls arrive, they're forced into getting plastic surgery, and then find themselves trapped into 'repaying' the expenses of the procedures ...through prostitution.
So Baika's taking this WSJ reporter and crew to interview the herdsmen and their families, to talk about the difficulties they are facing due to the global market's collapse and the series of especially cold winters in the past several years that have devastated their livestock. He half-jokingly suggested that I come along, and I, of course, jumped at the opportunity. So now I'm considering going along with them as they interview for the story. Not bad for a first weekend outing, right?
The crazy thing about Mongolia, and one of the reasons why I love it, is that, while it's a very rough place, as I've told many of you before, it's also a place of so much possibility. In my mind's eye, I see the open steppe, not just as a physical place, but as a metaphor of all that is this country. What do you want to build? What will help improve the lives of the people in your community? Want to start an organization that gives scholarships to gifted young artists in rural areas?... decide to expose corrupt politicians? Become passionate about it, and if you're in Mongolia you can easily become the founder of a new cause... While it can't stay this way forever, the 'ground' is open to anything- and so much.
The U.S., by contrast, is simply saturated with causes. The openness of the Mongolian steppe, contrasted to the density of Manhattan. Sure, with enough thought and creativity, new causes spring up every day, but what's old news in the U.S. is truly fresh and original here.
On Friday, he's meeting a reporter from the Wall Street Journal who's coming to do an article on human trafficking among herders in the countryside. Apparently Mongolia has one of the highest numbers in the world of human trafficking victims (per capita? I'm not sure)... as I understand it, many nomadic herders have loans with Mongolian banks to get through hard winters, etc. With the world prices for wool, furs, and other products on the decline, many herders have been going bankrupt -and for collateral, the banks are seizing their livestock, herders' only means of livelihood.
Right now it's unclear to me if the families feel forced to 'sell' their daughters, or if the young girls are being kidnapped by outsiders... either way, in these fairly dire circumstances, according to Baika, these herders' young daughters are being smuggled to Southeast Asian countries. When the girls arrive, they're forced into getting plastic surgery, and then find themselves trapped into 'repaying' the expenses of the procedures ...through prostitution.
So Baika's taking this WSJ reporter and crew to interview the herdsmen and their families, to talk about the difficulties they are facing due to the global market's collapse and the series of especially cold winters in the past several years that have devastated their livestock. He half-jokingly suggested that I come along, and I, of course, jumped at the opportunity. So now I'm considering going along with them as they interview for the story. Not bad for a first weekend outing, right?
The crazy thing about Mongolia, and one of the reasons why I love it, is that, while it's a very rough place, as I've told many of you before, it's also a place of so much possibility. In my mind's eye, I see the open steppe, not just as a physical place, but as a metaphor of all that is this country. What do you want to build? What will help improve the lives of the people in your community? Want to start an organization that gives scholarships to gifted young artists in rural areas?... decide to expose corrupt politicians? Become passionate about it, and if you're in Mongolia you can easily become the founder of a new cause... While it can't stay this way forever, the 'ground' is open to anything- and so much.
The U.S., by contrast, is simply saturated with causes. The openness of the Mongolian steppe, contrasted to the density of Manhattan. Sure, with enough thought and creativity, new causes spring up every day, but what's old news in the U.S. is truly fresh and original here.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Mongolia: Day One
I'm in my apartment in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, waiting for the sun to come up and for things to open. I arrived yesterday afternoon. In the meantime...
Typical Mongolia story: my flight arrived to UB a little early, so when I arrived in the airport and didn't see Ena, I took a seat - to be surrounded by Mongolian cabbies.
"Taxi?"
"No. My friend is coming."
(with a big smile): "are you sure?"
I pull out my book; several of taxi drivers, equally resolved, just hang out around my bags, waiting.
Ena arrives about 20 minutes later... with Ganbaatar, a really sweet older student from the first class, and two wrestlers - one whose parents will be asking Ena's parents for her hand in marriage soon...
In their Lexus SUV, she tells me the other car broke down, and that's why they were late to the airport.
Ganbaatar loves politics, but speaks very little English. We jump to politics, Ena interpreting between the two of us:
-last week MPRAM split into to agencies - the Petroleum Authority and the Mineral Resources Authority. Two new chairmen will be appointed soon.
-the strangeness of the post-parliament elections and riots this summer
-Lu Bold's appointment to Minister of Defense (he was the Chairman of MRPAM when I was here last year, but in a non-technical way, I can now say I've dined with Mongolia's Minister of Defense)
Small conversation about New Years celebration:
They ask how my New Years was: I relay that I was in the LA airport, boarding the plane to Beijing when the clock struck 12; had about 8 hours of January 1 before crossing the dateline, and joked that 2009 would be a fast year. The only thing missing for me was the champagne.
onto American politics:
I ask: "What do you think of Obama?"
Ganbaatar, with his limited English: "I like Obama. His father was a communist."
I smile. "What?"
Ganbaatar, through Ena this time: "I read on the internet that his father was a communist. Very good. We are happy he is president of the United States."
... leading to me explaining that in the US, calling someone a communist doesn't have quite the same meaning as it does in Mongolia...
We arrive at my apartment: the wrestlers grab my bags, including my roller bag of books (no joke, that bag weighed about 80-100 pounds). We stand in the elevator, and I stare in disbelief of this young guy holding it in his left hand, my 50-pound backpack in his right. The bags might as well have been stuffed animals.
We walk into my apartment, which is in the same complex as before, but in a different tower, and put my belongings down. All I want in the world is to take a shower; Ena and I step out to get shampoo and conditioner from the Korean grocery store that's in the basement of one of the other towers in the complex, while the guys sit down on my couch to check out my cable TV. When we come back, Ganbaatar is also walking in, with champagne and a box of chocolates.
I forgot that if you make a suggestion, like, "The only thing missing at New Years was the champagne", Mongolians take that very literally, and will go out to get some. Ganbaatar opens the bottle, the wrestlers have the TV on, and I become concerned that this shower is never going to happen. We toast, everyone takes a sip, Ena wants to take a picture - and while doing so, I mention to Ena as we cuddle up to fit into the group shot, 'sorry, I know I smell."
Picture taken, everyone stands up and zips up their coats. They had tasted the champagne, but didn't drink it; we took the picture almost as proof that it had happened, though I didn't quite know it then. Ena gives me my new cell phone, and says if I need anything, just to call her.
And they're out the door. Once again, the comment: I need to take a shower, which I very much meant instantly, was understood. I just didn't understand that one can open a bottle of champagne with a group of 5, and be in the shower 4 minutes later, with full champagne glasses still fizzing on the table.
Anyway, it's after 8am here, and the sky's beginning to turn from black. I'm not sure what I'm going to do today. I have groceries and closet hangers to get; I need to prepare for class on Monday... but I really didn't get much of a holiday. I might run out to Happy Video Shop on Peace Ave and pick up a few movies to watch inside my apartment instead.
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