Trade Fair

This week was our annual Trade Fair. It's a pretty major event in the year for producers, they sell a lot of their products at Trade Fairs, and pretty much all Aimegs have them. Mercy Corps organizes Trade Fairs in every Aimeg it is in, and CHF International (the other NGO where CED PCVs are placed) organizes them as well. The participants in our Trade Fair had total sales of 75 million tugriks, which is pretty incredible. Last year's sales were 38 million.
Two of the other CED volunteers who work with Mercy Corps came with their offices to help out. Natalie works at a RASP office, and Fahd works with Gobi Initiative. It was fun to have some visitors for a few days. They both arrived on Saturday, and Rob was here as well on his way back to site from Japan. It was like a party! The Trade Fair preparation was a little strange for us, my counterparts were really busy, but didn't utilize me, Natalie or Fahd at all. On Saturday morning I spent about two hours blowing up balloons to hang in the sport hall where we held the Trade Fair, but after that I didn't really do anything. The three of us were asked to come on Sunday morning, so we did. There was a flurry of activity in the office with all of my coworkers and the visiting Mercy Corps employees. But we weren't asked to help at all or given anything to do. I asked Hongoroo what we should do, if we should stay at the office or go to the sport hall and help there. She told us to go to the sport hall, but when we got there no one was there. So we went and ate lunch at Fairfield's, and then went back to my apartment and took naps.
Monday was the first day of the Trade Fair, we went in the morning and it was a mad house! Just walking in or out of the door to the sports hall was a challenge, vendors were going through with all their stuff, shoving everyone else out of the way. Having a lot of Mongolians in a small crowded place is always a little stressful. When the customers started showing up it got really bad. The aisles between the rows of stands were pretty narrow, and walking down them we were constantly shoved from behind. Not even the sort of gentle pushing by peoples' shoulders that is inevitable in a crowd, but actual hands on our backs pushing us forward. It was a little frustrating. And it wasn't like shoving could really help, because there were hoards of people in front of us as well, so we couldn't go any faster. At this point I have begun to adjust to the pushing culture, and can shove my way through a crowd, or protect my space in line with my elbows with the best of them, but being actively pushed by a grown person is still beyond what I consider reasonable. At one point I started a passive-aggressive sort of slowing down as much as I could when someone put their hand on my back and shoved me. It certainly didn't help any, but I have to admit it made me feel better. I figure maybe I can classically condition some Mongolians that pushing an American will not help them, and maybe they will stop. Yeah Right.
The products at the Trade Fair were really cool. I would say the majority was felt and aaruul. There was an entire aisle and even part of another full of aaruul producers. A lot of them had Mongolian cheese and other strange milk products too, but they are really proud of their aaruul. They make it in fancy shapes and even different colors. There was even some chocolate aaruul. I tasted a piece of that, and while it didn't exactly taste like chocolate, it was pretty good. It's kind of one of those things where you have to get past the first bite and then it starts tasting better. The elaborate stacks of aaruul were really cool, and each vendor seemed to be trying to outdo all the others with how pretty they could make their pile of aaruul.
The felt products were really nice. There were a lot of felt slippers, wall hangings, purses and other random little ornaments and trinkets made from felt. I bought a pair of felt slippers, which might be my new favorite thing. Felt is amazingly warm. I wanted to buy a pair of sort of bootie-like slippers, but the only ones that I could find to fit me were slip on. It is frustrating trying to buy shoes and clothes in Mongolia. Mongolians are all quite short and have very small feet. I'm not that tall, and my feet aren't that big, but standing next to my five foot counterpart, I feel like a giant. Fahd got really into the whole felt thing; he bought a menagerie of felt animals, several wall hangings and some other random stuff. The felt producers loved him. Their eyes lit up when we walked by because they knew they would make a sale.
There was a lot of other stuff being sold as well. There were some really beautiful and ornate carved wood products, hand-made furniture, pre-made dels, Mongolian boots and jewelry. There were also bigger companies that came from UB, Darkhan and Erdenet with carpets, leather coats, electronics and cashmere. I ended up buying a cashmere hat. It was 10,000 tugriks, and though that is really cheap for a cashmere hat, it took awhile for me to talk myself into it. I didn't end up buying it until the second day, and I'm pretty sure the significant drop in temperature the past few days was a big part of the reason I ended up buying it. That and it matches my winter coat.
There were also several vegetable farmers selling vegetables. I was disappointed with the lack of variety, as my hopes were set very high from Cady's stories about her trade fair. In Darkhan they grow "exotic" vegetables like broccoli. I plan to bring that practice to Arkhangai for the next growing season. There is enough of an expat community in Tsetserleg that I think strange things like broccoli would be marketable here. The vegetable farmers at our trade fair did make up with their lack of variety with size. There were some of the biggest cabbage, potatoes and turnips I have ever seen. There was one person selling corn, but they had harvested it way too early and the kernels hadn't really formed. It makes me sad, because I know that adventurous Mongolians who buy it will think it's gross and not be interested in corn anymore. When to harvest corn is another thing I can hopefully help with here.
On Wednesday, after the trade fair was over, we had a client's day. Basically it was just a morning of presentations. It was pretty boring for me and Natalie, as it was all in Mongolian and we didn't have a translator. But I did get to give my presentation on Farmer's Markets. Uunee asked me awhile ago to prepare some notes on farmer's markets, because I guess the UB Mercy Corps office wants us to stir up some interest or help get one started in Arkhangai. So after I told my coworkers what a farmer's market is and how they are run etc. We had the idea for me to give a presentation to our clients. It seemed to go over pretty well; I'm really excited about the idea because it would be so much better for our clients. One of our clients told us that he sells his cucumbers to the market for 400 tugriks per kilo, and then they turn around and sell them for 1,200. I'm hoping that there will be enough interest and some people who are willing to take charge and we can get a farmer's market started by next spring.
Natalie's counterpart had told her that they were going to leave at 2 pm on Wednesday, so after the Client's day we rushed back to my apartment to finish getting all the pictures she took onto my computer, and went to Fairfield's for lunch again. Then we came back to the office, and stood around for awhile. I left because there was nothing for me to do. Natalie texted me at around 4 and said she was still here, but waiting in the jeep. Then at like 6:30 she texted me again to see if she could come over for dinner... she was still here. So she came over, and we waited around for awhile. She texted her counterpart to see when they were actually leaving and her counterpart said she didn't know. Then a little while later she texted again and said they were leaving at 10:30. That didn't make any sense at all. It's a 15 hour drive to Zavhan, and the only place where they could really stop for the night is like 10 hours into the drive. So Natalie and I figured that she would not be leaving that night, and she would just stay with me. Then a little while later Uunee and Saraa, Natalie's counterpart, showed up at my door and said that there was a party because the trade fair was so successful. So we got in the jeep, and after driving around doing random things for awhile we went out to a ger camp a little ways outside town. All of the Mercy Corps workers from my office and from UB and Zavhan were there. They were making a horhog. Horhog is a very uniquely Mongolian food. Basically you slaughter a sheep or goat, cut it up and throw it in a sort of pressure cooker-like thing with some vegetables and salt and other seasonings, add some hot stones and let it cook for awhile. When we first got there they were in the slaughtering stage. After we had been there awhile they brought the goat hide into the ger with all the chopped up meat in it, and started the horhog. I've been told that if you separate "horhog" into two words, it means toxic trash. But it's one word, so means something completely different. And horhog is actually really good! It was hilarious when they were adding everything into the big pot thing. They would open the lid and someone would throw some meat in, someone else would throw some potatoes or onions or turnips in, and then everyone else standing around would pour in beer or vodka. They got a kick out of it when I told them that in America we pour beer over meat when we cook it too. This process went on for some time, and they added some hot stones from the fire. The thing that amazed me the most was when a couple guys grabbed the handles of the pot barehanded and shook it around. It was all metal, so it must have been really hot, but you could never tell by the way they were holding it.
After about half and hour or so the horhog was ready. First they took the stones out and handed them out. Mongolians say it is really good for you to play hot potato with a scalding hot rocks, and I can sort of see why. It scalds at least one layer of skin off your hands, and surely kills any germs. And I never did see the people who were handling the raw meat wash their hands, so I guess it's the next best thing. After the rocks they passed around bowls of broth, which was possibly the most delicious soup I have ever had. Then they pulled all the meat out, put it in a cardboard box and started passing that around. The potatoes and onions and turnips were put in a different pot and passed around as well. Eating horhog is quite an experience. You have a big hunk of meat/fat/bone in one hand and a potato or onion or turnip (maybe all three) in the other hand. No plates or silverware. It makes you feel very barbaric, gnawing bites off the hunk of meat and eating whole potatoes and onions with your hands. It's pretty fun.
While we were waiting for the horhog and after we had eaten, there was drinking. There was a never-ending supply of Chinggis vodka (I think they actually bought a whole case). Everyone had a beer, and then one person would pour "shots" and pass them around. A "shot" in Mongolia is nothing like the little one-ounce shot glasses we have in America. They use a tumbler, and depending on how much the person pouring likes you or thinks you can handle, it can be up to half full. And they were having none of the whole touch it to your lips and pass it back, which is the polite way to refuse vodka here. One of Natalie's coworkers started it by challenging Natalie to finish her shot, which she did. Then I finished mine. When it was his turn, Natalie's coworker tried to only drink some of his, but Natalie and I were having none of that. So then we learned the words "khunter" and "gedee" which are basically the equivalent to "DRINK DRINK DRINK" in America. I have never seen such peer pressure to drink before, and it's totally acceptable. Every time anyone tried to not finish their shot there was a loud and insistent chorus of "khunter khunter." They especially loved it when Natalie and I acted as vodka police and made people finish their shots. And really, if Americans can drink giant shots of vodka, the Mongolians can too! The nice thing about the way Mongolians drink is that the glass has to go all the way around the room before you have to take another shot. And as the evening wore on and everyone got drunker, everyone would sing a song when it was their turn to drink, which prolonged the rotation even more.
Natalie was eventually told that she wasn't actually leaving that night, that they would leave at 6am the next morning. We had both figured as much, and I think they didn't tell her because they were afraid she would be upset. I don't see how continuing to delay the departure time made her any less frustrated... but then we are in Mongolia and they do things a little differently here.
The party was really fun, probably the most fun I've had at a Mongolian party yet. And Natalie did end up leaving on time the next morning, actually a little early. Saraa showed up at my apartment at 5:30. It was kind of amazing.