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!

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.

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".

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.

Friday Night Reunion

Two of my favorite people...

Zula, Ena, and me

Manlai, Zula, Anar, Ena, Nyamtsend, me, and Tuvshin at the "Great Mongolian"

It was our green light... not theirs

We had the green light... and yet...

$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...

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.

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).

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?

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.

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.