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.