In a few short weeks I will have lived in Mongolia for one year. That fact blows my mind in so many ways. I have never been away from my family, my country and all that I hold to be “normal” for so long. Yet I find myself at a loss of what to write about Mongolia, and my experience here. It has all come to seem so normal. Mongolia is like nothing I had ever imagined, or experienced, or even imagined I would experience. Yet now it is normal. It is Spring. Everyone says Spring in Mongolia is rough. All I know is Spring in Missouri. The red buds blossom, April showers bring May flowers. But Spring in Mongolia is filled with dust storms, white-out blizzards that melt in two hours and dead animals.
A few weeks ago I went to UB for my annual Peace Corps physical. The bus ride there was more frustrating than most of my previous trips to UB. They are working on the road again, which doesn’t mean progress at this point. It means driving aimlessly across fields because there are piles of dirt and rocks blocking the road. And it means animal carcasses. Animals die in the Spring. This past winter was harder and colder than it has been in 10 years according to most Mongolians. I believe them. Walking the 5 minutes to work my eyelashes froze, and even though my desk was mere feet away from the wall with a radiator, my hands were frozen most of the day. Long underwear, which I have never worn in my life, was a necessity from October until mid-March.
My trip home from UB was even more interesting. When we stopped for lunch it was like a scene out of a Disney movie. A storm was coming through. We sat in the ger , waiting for our lunch of tsoy vin to be served, and kept hearing what sounded like an airplane. It turned out to be a thunderstorm. When I went outside to look, I could see darkness sweeping over the land. It was like something bad was about to happen. I watched the dust storm coming from the West, and the thunderclouds coming from the North. But no lightening. In Mongolia the sky is nearly endless, you can watch the clouds cast shadow over the Steppe. I watched “dustadoes” rise into the air. There isn’t enough moisture in Mongolia to create tornadoes, but cyclones of dust frequently rise a hundred feet into the air.
Somehow, though I have never lived through a Mongolian Spring, it doesn’t really shock me. Last week I went to Battsengal to ride horses. While I was in UB I met some PCVs who had just ended their service in Ukraine and were taking the Trans-Siberian to Beijing. They ended up coming out to Arkhangai for a few days to experience the Mongolian countryside, and, of course, I took them to Battsengal. During the two-hour ride out there we saw innumerable carcasses on the side of the road. Spring means dead animals, but also clean-white baby sheep and adorable baby horses. Somehow, after living here almost a year the carcasses didn’t even phase me. Maybe it’s the normality of seeing animal bones littered across fields, and even in the dirt streets of Tstetserleg. The last time I went to Battsengal the baby sheep were just starting to be born, and when we came back from our ride the family told us that an eagle had eaten one. We saw one of the kids of the herder family tear across the Steppe on his ever-ready Mongol horse to the sheep herd because there was an eagle circling.
Everyone who has heard anything about the “Mongol Hordes” knows how hardy Mongolian horses are. During the time of Chinggis Khan, they carried the army all the way to Vienna. But you can’t even begin to imagine it until you see almost skeletal horses during the Spring giving birth and nursing their foals, and surviving that. Nearly every horse, yak or cow I see has severely protruding hip-bones, and is clearly seriously mal-nourished. Yet these animals, at least most of them, manage to survive this hardship and go on to thrive once the grass is fully grown and the Mongolian Summer fully arrives. Only to do it all again the next year.
It makes you think about the Mongolian people. Like their animals (which outnumber them almost 40 to 1), Mongolians, for centuries, have survived this harsh climate and at one point had the largest empire ever known. This country is full of hardy animals and the resilient people who care for them.
These resilient people are trying to fight through a post-Soviet, high-inflation and corrupt economy to develop. The contrast between their mostly small community knowledge and lifestyle and their desire to be a democracy seems an almost impossible struggle. The national elections are coming up this year. And with the national elections comes a possible shift in the controlling Party. In America we are used to essential continuity, regardless of which party is in power. Our basic civil servants are not politically appointed, they keep and do their jobs through major shifts in the political atmosphere. In Mongolia that is not the case. A change in the controlling party means every civil servant loses their job, and is replaced by someone with the same political affiliation of the controlling party. How is anything to be done under such a system? School directors, School system methodologists, Park administrators, all the way down to the drivers hired to transport these employees of the State have almost no job security. Why should they work hard? Why should the seek promotion?
Despite this strange governmental system, many Mongolians are working hard to develop their country and try to gain transparency in their government. Many of the younger generation, who haven't grown up under communism, realize there is a lot of work to be done and want to be the ones to do it. Mongolians love their country, and are proud of their unique traditions and way of life. Many of the small-business owners I meet and work with through Mercy Corps are eager to learn what it takes to compete and keep their business going.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Man's Best Friend
Today I watched two little boys kicking a puppy. That is not at all a strange occurrence. A few days ago I was playing with some stray puppies outside one of my friend's apartment building and a little boy, probably only 4 or 5 years old came out and started kicking them for no reason. Mongolians are strange about dogs. Mostly they are terrified of them. The same day I was playing with those puppies a group of little girls was giving me the "hello!" chorus, and started to come over to me. One of the puppies ran up to them wagging its tail and the little girls ran away screaming. There are lots of street dogs in Mongolia, (somehow the yearly mass-murder of the stray dogs doesn’t quite solve the problem) and if they go within 10 feet of someone the person will throw a rock or yell at them. Watching Sophie run around town is an interesting sight. She is one of the friendliest dogs I know, she is always wagging her tail and running up to people, whose response is inevitably to jump back with a terrified expression and yell. Or pick up a rock and throw it at her.
I admit that sometimes she can be a little startling, there have been a few times I’ve been walking back to my apartment when she is outside and she runs up behind me at top speed. But she really just wants to say “hi.” And she’s not enough of a Mongol dog to know that people are not her friends. It surprises me that Mongolians are so fearful and mean to dogs. Most people who live in hashaas have a dog, and their dog is a pretty important part of their home security. Hashaa dogs keep the drunk men away and won’t allow strangers to wander around your yard. And dogs are used to guard herds. But many Mongolians practically starve their hashaa dogs. I can’t count the times I have walked into a hashaa and seen a skeletal, mangy dog tied up to a short rope looking up at me with sad eyes. In my experience dogs are most loyal when you feed them and are nice to them. There are many Mongolians who understand that and care for their dogs. But there are many more that don’t. And it’s no wonder they are all scared of dogs. They throw rocks at them and kick them every chance they have. Even puppies that belong to someone generally wander around the streets to some degree, and they are at the mercy of every pack of little boys roaming around looking for something to pick on. Every time I see a herd of boys beating up a puppy I want to go and kick them. It seems that torturing small animals is not a sign of sociopathy in Mongolia.
I admit that sometimes she can be a little startling, there have been a few times I’ve been walking back to my apartment when she is outside and she runs up behind me at top speed. But she really just wants to say “hi.” And she’s not enough of a Mongol dog to know that people are not her friends. It surprises me that Mongolians are so fearful and mean to dogs. Most people who live in hashaas have a dog, and their dog is a pretty important part of their home security. Hashaa dogs keep the drunk men away and won’t allow strangers to wander around your yard. And dogs are used to guard herds. But many Mongolians practically starve their hashaa dogs. I can’t count the times I have walked into a hashaa and seen a skeletal, mangy dog tied up to a short rope looking up at me with sad eyes. In my experience dogs are most loyal when you feed them and are nice to them. There are many Mongolians who understand that and care for their dogs. But there are many more that don’t. And it’s no wonder they are all scared of dogs. They throw rocks at them and kick them every chance they have. Even puppies that belong to someone generally wander around the streets to some degree, and they are at the mercy of every pack of little boys roaming around looking for something to pick on. Every time I see a herd of boys beating up a puppy I want to go and kick them. It seems that torturing small animals is not a sign of sociopathy in Mongolia.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Love Each Other While Living, People
The following is a Mongolian poem written by O.Dashbalbar that my friend Tuul translated into English:
Love each other while living,
You need not be stingy with those things you hold dearest
Don’t hurt hearts with the spears of needless words
Don’t push one down into a dark hole.
Don’t laugh at the one who has fallen down sodden,
He might be your father, who knows!
If you’ve reached first the peak of fame
Open the gate of happiness for others
They should not forget your help!
Say the one nice word to the person
Who misses and needs it,
Days that are sunny outside and cold inside
Will be seen more than once on this earth.
The nice boy who fell in love with you,
Don’t hurt him with your hard words, girl!
Just love him back for loving you,
He might have loved another, prettier.
Our lives are the same
On our throats, words are knotted the same
On our cheeks, tears fall the same
On our ways, we cross the same paths
Without asking, wipe away a girl’s tear,
Raise up and calm a child stumbled,
Today you’re laughing and another is crying
But another day you’ll be sad and the other will be singing.
Because everybody passes through cradle and coffin
Just love each other, nothing else is needed!
In this wide world,
Humans need not be short on love.
Because I imagine happiness as a fire in the human soul
Because the golden sun bestows its rays upon us equally,
For me, being alive is to deliver my love to others
And I understand that happiness is to receive love from others.
Love each other while living, people!
Translated by S. Tuul
Love each other while living,
You need not be stingy with those things you hold dearest
Don’t hurt hearts with the spears of needless words
Don’t push one down into a dark hole.
Don’t laugh at the one who has fallen down sodden,
He might be your father, who knows!
If you’ve reached first the peak of fame
Open the gate of happiness for others
They should not forget your help!
Say the one nice word to the person
Who misses and needs it,
Days that are sunny outside and cold inside
Will be seen more than once on this earth.
The nice boy who fell in love with you,
Don’t hurt him with your hard words, girl!
Just love him back for loving you,
He might have loved another, prettier.
Our lives are the same
On our throats, words are knotted the same
On our cheeks, tears fall the same
On our ways, we cross the same paths
Without asking, wipe away a girl’s tear,
Raise up and calm a child stumbled,
Today you’re laughing and another is crying
But another day you’ll be sad and the other will be singing.
Because everybody passes through cradle and coffin
Just love each other, nothing else is needed!
In this wide world,
Humans need not be short on love.
Because I imagine happiness as a fire in the human soul
Because the golden sun bestows its rays upon us equally,
For me, being alive is to deliver my love to others
And I understand that happiness is to receive love from others.
Love each other while living, people!
Translated by S. Tuul
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Olympics
Last week the annual Academic Olympics were held in Aimag centers across Mongolia. In Arkhangai we also have the Pyramid competition, a PCV creation. It's basically a game show testing English speaking and reading comprehension ability, and gives Mongolian students a chance to show their competitiveness. There were some tense moments when we judged answers to be wrong and they didn't agree. They also all thought that students who are taught by a PCV had an unfair advantage. But there was only one yelling match.
The day after the Pyramid competition was the English Olympics. Since I am a native speaker, I am qualified to be an Olympic judge. Also, as Rob pointed out, "Peace Corps Volunteer" roughly translates as "Slave Labor." What fun. Each school in the Aimag sends their best English speaker from 9th and 11th grades. The Olympics consist of written, listening comprehension and speaking tests. The day began with all four PCVs sitting in the teachers room reading The Economist for almost an hour, then we all paraded into the classroom where the test was to be given so the school director could show the students that no one had opened the envelope sent from UB containing the test, and THEN we made copies of the test.
The CD that was sent with the listening portion, of course, didn't work on the CD player. It worked on the computer, so we sat down to transcribe it. We planned to act it out for the students, which actually would have been much easier for them. The speakers on the CD had really heavy British accents and were almost unintelligible. But when we were about halfway through the first section, the director came in and said the students didn't want us to act it out, because it would give Rob, Jeff and Greg's students an unfair advantage. So instead we carried the computer from room to room (not a laptop). Only about one student from each grade actually understood any of the listening portion, so it probably would have helped them out if they had just let us do it...
The speaking test was painful to judge. Even though these are the very best English students in the Aimag, only about 2 of them can actually speak English. They have been studying the language since 4th grade. Each student had 5 minutes to talk about their prompt, after 5 minutes to think about it. Rob and I judged the 11th grade, and at least three of them sat there in silence for the full 5 minutes.
This can easily be explained by the English ability of the Aimag teachers. Each school also sends it's best English teacher, and they have their own Olympics. All four of us judged the teachers speaking ability. Though most of them could speak a little bit of seriously broken English, only two could be considered anywhere close to fluent.
The education system in Mongolia is tragic. No one fails, so students graduate from University with a degree in English teaching or translating unable to carry on even the simplest conversation in English. Many TEFL PCVs don't even give their students grades, because if they don't give them good grades the school Director changes them. There were some positive aspects of Communism in Mongolia. The education and healthcare systems were far superior to what they are now.
That being said, there are a lot of Mongolians who learn English despite their poor teachers. The influx of American culture on TV and in music has been good for Mongolians who really want to learn English and have the drive to do it on their own. It also allows Peace Corps volunteers to feel really good about ourselves. Many of the people I meet who speak English well are quick to say they had a PCV as a teacher.
The day after the Pyramid competition was the English Olympics. Since I am a native speaker, I am qualified to be an Olympic judge. Also, as Rob pointed out, "Peace Corps Volunteer" roughly translates as "Slave Labor." What fun. Each school in the Aimag sends their best English speaker from 9th and 11th grades. The Olympics consist of written, listening comprehension and speaking tests. The day began with all four PCVs sitting in the teachers room reading The Economist for almost an hour, then we all paraded into the classroom where the test was to be given so the school director could show the students that no one had opened the envelope sent from UB containing the test, and THEN we made copies of the test.
The CD that was sent with the listening portion, of course, didn't work on the CD player. It worked on the computer, so we sat down to transcribe it. We planned to act it out for the students, which actually would have been much easier for them. The speakers on the CD had really heavy British accents and were almost unintelligible. But when we were about halfway through the first section, the director came in and said the students didn't want us to act it out, because it would give Rob, Jeff and Greg's students an unfair advantage. So instead we carried the computer from room to room (not a laptop). Only about one student from each grade actually understood any of the listening portion, so it probably would have helped them out if they had just let us do it...
The speaking test was painful to judge. Even though these are the very best English students in the Aimag, only about 2 of them can actually speak English. They have been studying the language since 4th grade. Each student had 5 minutes to talk about their prompt, after 5 minutes to think about it. Rob and I judged the 11th grade, and at least three of them sat there in silence for the full 5 minutes.
This can easily be explained by the English ability of the Aimag teachers. Each school also sends it's best English teacher, and they have their own Olympics. All four of us judged the teachers speaking ability. Though most of them could speak a little bit of seriously broken English, only two could be considered anywhere close to fluent.
The education system in Mongolia is tragic. No one fails, so students graduate from University with a degree in English teaching or translating unable to carry on even the simplest conversation in English. Many TEFL PCVs don't even give their students grades, because if they don't give them good grades the school Director changes them. There were some positive aspects of Communism in Mongolia. The education and healthcare systems were far superior to what they are now.
That being said, there are a lot of Mongolians who learn English despite their poor teachers. The influx of American culture on TV and in music has been good for Mongolians who really want to learn English and have the drive to do it on their own. It also allows Peace Corps volunteers to feel really good about ourselves. Many of the people I meet who speak English well are quick to say they had a PCV as a teacher.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Vacation, sort of
The past month has been full of travel (Mongol-style of course), Peace Corps training and enjoying above-freezing temperatures. I have finally been able to hang up my giant winter parka, and move back to my light jacket (a moment I celebrated fully). Some days I don't even have to wear a coat, so long as I layer properly.
In late February I went up to Selenge aimag with a friend to visit another PCV who lives there. We took the night train from UB to Sukhbaatar, which travels about as fast as a horse but is a bit more comfortable. While in Sukhbaatar, I visited Cady's host family from the Summer. They were really happy that I had come to visit, but I think I made Cady look like the "bad daughter" because she lives a lot closer but hadn't come up for Tsaagan Sar (never mind the fact that there was a snowstorm the day she had been planning to come, and the taxi drivers always seem to have a death wish anyway).
After three days of genuine hudoo life, I came to realize how happy I am to live in an apartment. I love my hot shower, the heat that is provided through no work of my own and my indoor toilet. The running water to wash dishes with is also a big plus.
I also got to experience the true "posh-corps" lifestyle in Darkhan for a few days after Sukhbaatar. Complete with CNN, National Geographic and Animal Planet, and a couch to lay on while watching. I went to Darkhan to give a training on sustainability with Cady at her CHF office, which went really well. We also had time to go shopping at an awesome thrift store, and I had a bit of a moment at Nomins. Nomins is a super-market chain that is in UB, Darkhan and Erdenet. I made Cady spend almost an hour just wandering up and down the aisles while I gasped at and drooled over the amazing things for sale there (sesame oil, broccoli, lettuce, meat other than hiam, brown sugar, cheese).
At the beginning of March we had a Peace Corps training on Project Design and Management (PDM). It was the last time all the M18s will be together in one place before our Close of Service conference next year. It was a really good training, and it was at a much better hotel than IST. The hotel is in the "Strictly Protected Area" outside of UB. I'm not sure exactly what is meant by "Strictly Protected," as there is still hunting, grazing, camping etc. allowed. But it was beautiful. We were busy with training sessions pretty much all day the whole time we were there though, so there wasn't much time to enjoy the newly-warm weather.
After PDM I spend a few more days in UB, going to some meetings and participating in the normal Peace Corps ridiculousness that ensues whenever a large group of us are in the city. Though it's always fun to be in UB, it gets expensive and exhausting really quickly, and I was glad to come back home. My friend came back to Tsetserleg with me to stay for a week and enjoy Arkhangai's awesomeness. The weather was beautiful. Arkhangai has been the warmest spot in Mongolia all winter, and it continues to be warmer than the rest of the country. All the snow had melted, and there are even some buds on trees now. Along with spring, though, comes the infamous Dust Storms. I experienced my first last Tuesday. Which, of course, was the day my office relocated.
Our office was moved in typical Mongolian fashion. I was sitting at my computer doing something when all of a sudden it turned off. That isn't such a strange occurrence, as the power goes out briefly quite frequently, and sometimes my computer turns off because someone looks at the extension cord wrong and it stops working for awhile. But I looked up to see people pulling computers off desks and stacking everything in the middle of the room. And so we moved. We threw everything in boxes and carried it to the truck downstairs. All during a dust storm. Probably not the best thing for the computers, but it really is amazing how durable things are when forced to be so. The office was moved because recently the cafe downstairs from our old office converted their pool/ ping-pong room into karaoke. You wouldn't think that would be such a problem, but in Mongolia karaoke starts up at about 11am. It's not so easy to focus on anything while listening to very loud, very bad karaoke being sung directly below you.
After the dust storm on Tuesday, the rest of last week was incredible. The sun was shining and it was warm enough to go on hikes without a coat. Doug and I went on a hike on Wednesday. We took Sophie with us, and as we passed by Andrea and Tuul's apartment buildings we were joined by two stray dogs that have befriended all foreigners. One is a true Mongolian dog, he is black with some white has the "four eyes" (light brown patches above his eyes). The other is some sort of mix between some fancy lap-dog and street dog. He is short and has curly hair (aka dred-locks). With our small herd of dogs we hiked up into the mountains around Tsetserleg. The little curly dog has some sort of inferiority complex, and can't get enough of chasing livestock. Sophie was good about not joining in at first, but as we went on she started to understand what was going on and decided she might like to play too. Near the end of our hike we heard thundering hooves coming up behind us, so we turned around to find an angry herder. He asked us why our dogs were chasing his animals. Doug told him that the yellow dog was ours, the other ones we didn't know anything about, they just followed us. He didn't seem to buy that completely, but eventually went away.
I also climbed Bulgan mountain for the second time last week. This time I climbed up and also back down the rock face. The first time Rob, Jeff and I came down on the other side of the mountain which is grass and trees. But this time Doug and I came across a couple of kids as we were climbing up, and they joined us. After we reached the top they decided they wanted to show us the "big hole." So we started climbing down the rock face, mostly scooting along in a sitting position. At first we thought it was just a little ways down, but as it turned out we climbed half-way down the mountain before we came to the "big hole." From a distance it looks like a yeti cave, but, in fact, it's just a deep hole in the rock.
We also went riding out in Battsengal again. There was again only one camel, and this time we discovered why. Apparently the other two camels the family owns had been bought recently, and they like to run away to their old home. I asked for a fast horse, and they gave me "Billy." He was dubbed Billy for the day because of his impressive mane, which is in the process of growing out and so stands straight up. Billy was indeed a fast horse, and just wanted to run. He has the habit of putting his head down while galloping, and that coupled with the fact that he has almost no discernible shoulder made it a little scary when trying to stop him. I always felt like I was moments away from falling off over his head. But we eventually came to an understanding, and spent most of the ride ahead of everyone else because Billy did not tolerate being behind anyone very well.
The camel was also a little sassy this time out. When Andrea and I were trading off, we tried to make him sit and instead of sitting he blew his slobber all over Andrea. For some reason he had collected an impressive amount of foam in his mouth, most of which ended up on Andrea's face.
Now I am back at work, in a new office with almost all new coworkers. I have a new counterpart, Azaa, a new translator, Jackie and our programming officer, Bayarhuu, is back from maternity leave.
In late February I went up to Selenge aimag with a friend to visit another PCV who lives there. We took the night train from UB to Sukhbaatar, which travels about as fast as a horse but is a bit more comfortable. While in Sukhbaatar, I visited Cady's host family from the Summer. They were really happy that I had come to visit, but I think I made Cady look like the "bad daughter" because she lives a lot closer but hadn't come up for Tsaagan Sar (never mind the fact that there was a snowstorm the day she had been planning to come, and the taxi drivers always seem to have a death wish anyway).
After three days of genuine hudoo life, I came to realize how happy I am to live in an apartment. I love my hot shower, the heat that is provided through no work of my own and my indoor toilet. The running water to wash dishes with is also a big plus.
I also got to experience the true "posh-corps" lifestyle in Darkhan for a few days after Sukhbaatar. Complete with CNN, National Geographic and Animal Planet, and a couch to lay on while watching. I went to Darkhan to give a training on sustainability with Cady at her CHF office, which went really well. We also had time to go shopping at an awesome thrift store, and I had a bit of a moment at Nomins. Nomins is a super-market chain that is in UB, Darkhan and Erdenet. I made Cady spend almost an hour just wandering up and down the aisles while I gasped at and drooled over the amazing things for sale there (sesame oil, broccoli, lettuce, meat other than hiam, brown sugar, cheese).
At the beginning of March we had a Peace Corps training on Project Design and Management (PDM). It was the last time all the M18s will be together in one place before our Close of Service conference next year. It was a really good training, and it was at a much better hotel than IST. The hotel is in the "Strictly Protected Area" outside of UB. I'm not sure exactly what is meant by "Strictly Protected," as there is still hunting, grazing, camping etc. allowed. But it was beautiful. We were busy with training sessions pretty much all day the whole time we were there though, so there wasn't much time to enjoy the newly-warm weather.
After PDM I spend a few more days in UB, going to some meetings and participating in the normal Peace Corps ridiculousness that ensues whenever a large group of us are in the city. Though it's always fun to be in UB, it gets expensive and exhausting really quickly, and I was glad to come back home. My friend came back to Tsetserleg with me to stay for a week and enjoy Arkhangai's awesomeness. The weather was beautiful. Arkhangai has been the warmest spot in Mongolia all winter, and it continues to be warmer than the rest of the country. All the snow had melted, and there are even some buds on trees now. Along with spring, though, comes the infamous Dust Storms. I experienced my first last Tuesday. Which, of course, was the day my office relocated.
Our office was moved in typical Mongolian fashion. I was sitting at my computer doing something when all of a sudden it turned off. That isn't such a strange occurrence, as the power goes out briefly quite frequently, and sometimes my computer turns off because someone looks at the extension cord wrong and it stops working for awhile. But I looked up to see people pulling computers off desks and stacking everything in the middle of the room. And so we moved. We threw everything in boxes and carried it to the truck downstairs. All during a dust storm. Probably not the best thing for the computers, but it really is amazing how durable things are when forced to be so. The office was moved because recently the cafe downstairs from our old office converted their pool/ ping-pong room into karaoke. You wouldn't think that would be such a problem, but in Mongolia karaoke starts up at about 11am. It's not so easy to focus on anything while listening to very loud, very bad karaoke being sung directly below you.
After the dust storm on Tuesday, the rest of last week was incredible. The sun was shining and it was warm enough to go on hikes without a coat. Doug and I went on a hike on Wednesday. We took Sophie with us, and as we passed by Andrea and Tuul's apartment buildings we were joined by two stray dogs that have befriended all foreigners. One is a true Mongolian dog, he is black with some white has the "four eyes" (light brown patches above his eyes). The other is some sort of mix between some fancy lap-dog and street dog. He is short and has curly hair (aka dred-locks). With our small herd of dogs we hiked up into the mountains around Tsetserleg. The little curly dog has some sort of inferiority complex, and can't get enough of chasing livestock. Sophie was good about not joining in at first, but as we went on she started to understand what was going on and decided she might like to play too. Near the end of our hike we heard thundering hooves coming up behind us, so we turned around to find an angry herder. He asked us why our dogs were chasing his animals. Doug told him that the yellow dog was ours, the other ones we didn't know anything about, they just followed us. He didn't seem to buy that completely, but eventually went away.
I also climbed Bulgan mountain for the second time last week. This time I climbed up and also back down the rock face. The first time Rob, Jeff and I came down on the other side of the mountain which is grass and trees. But this time Doug and I came across a couple of kids as we were climbing up, and they joined us. After we reached the top they decided they wanted to show us the "big hole." So we started climbing down the rock face, mostly scooting along in a sitting position. At first we thought it was just a little ways down, but as it turned out we climbed half-way down the mountain before we came to the "big hole." From a distance it looks like a yeti cave, but, in fact, it's just a deep hole in the rock.
We also went riding out in Battsengal again. There was again only one camel, and this time we discovered why. Apparently the other two camels the family owns had been bought recently, and they like to run away to their old home. I asked for a fast horse, and they gave me "Billy." He was dubbed Billy for the day because of his impressive mane, which is in the process of growing out and so stands straight up. Billy was indeed a fast horse, and just wanted to run. He has the habit of putting his head down while galloping, and that coupled with the fact that he has almost no discernible shoulder made it a little scary when trying to stop him. I always felt like I was moments away from falling off over his head. But we eventually came to an understanding, and spent most of the ride ahead of everyone else because Billy did not tolerate being behind anyone very well.
The camel was also a little sassy this time out. When Andrea and I were trading off, we tried to make him sit and instead of sitting he blew his slobber all over Andrea. For some reason he had collected an impressive amount of foam in his mouth, most of which ended up on Andrea's face.
Now I am back at work, in a new office with almost all new coworkers. I have a new counterpart, Azaa, a new translator, Jackie and our programming officer, Bayarhuu, is back from maternity leave.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Enough Buuz to Last a Lifetime
It is officially the New Year according to the Lunar Calendar. In Mongolia, we rang in the new year in the traditional way of eating a lot of buuz, aaruul and various mayonnaise-coated salads and washing it all down with vodka. Tsaagan Sar is a very old, traditional Mongolian holiday that can be described as a mixture of Thanksgiving and Halloween for adults.
Preparations for Tsaagan Sar generally begin at least a week before hand. I was lucky enough to be able to help Uunee and her parents make their buuz. Many Mongolian women say they don't like Tsaagan Sar because they have to pinch a billion buuz, but for someone who hasn't done this every year my entire life, it was pretty exciting. It began with Uunee's mom elbow-deep in a giant bowl full of ground mutton, spices and salt. While she mixed the filling, Uunee and I began rolling out the 3-inch circles of dough. Making buuz assembly-line style for Tsaagan Sar was really fun, and after pinching about 5 buuz I had it down and even made some that could have been mistaken as Mongolian-made. I had planned to count how many buuz I pinched, but had to concentrate so hard on the first few I quickly gave that up. I'm sure it was a couple hundred though, I was at it for over two hours.
Tsaagan Sar eve was February 7th, a day spent cleaning house and spending time with immediate family, eating lots of food. This day is called "Bituun," which means to fill yourself up or become full. I spent the day cleaning my apartment and desperately trying to finish learning a Mongolian song (I have discovered that my problem is I absolutely cannot carry a tune). The first day of Tsaagan Sar I was invited to spend with Uunee's family. So about 10 am I put on my winter del and headed up the mountain to Uunee's house. We began the day in the grandparent's ger, which is inside Uunee's parents' hashaa. Upon entering a house for a Tsaagan Sar visit, you seek out the oldest man and greet him by putting your arms under his while he kisses or sniffs your cheeks. Usually you present him with a small gift or a small amount of money. Then you proceed to the oldest woman etc. People who are younger than you put their arms under yours and you sniff or kiss their cheeks. The Tsaagan Sar greeting immediately made me feel welcomed, people I had never met before sniffed or kissed my cheeks and asked "how are you, are you having a good new year?" Following this greeting the men and older women pull out their snuff bottles and offer them to everyone who has been greeted. After all these greetings and well-wishing the aaruul, milk vodka, aireg and vodka begin to be passed around, followed by buuz. As new people came into the ger everyone would shuffle around, and the new older people would greet Uunee's grandparents, and then sit down and everyone else would line up to greet them. I stayed with Uunee's family for about four hours, drinking, eating and looking at family pictures.
The second day of Tsaagan Sar I visited my friend Amu, who I met last September in the market. She goes to school in Erdenet, but was home visiting for Tsaagan Sar. While I was visiting her a couple of her friends came over, and then another of her friends came and picked us up and was going to take me home. We drove around for awhile picking up other people, and they were trying to decide what to do (everything was closed for Tsaagan Sar), so I invited them to come to my apartment. They all came over and bought a ridiculous amount of beer, vodka and food. We played Mongolian cards and hung out until eventually everyone fell asleep on my floor. The next morning I went to visit Dashka, my supervisor. Tsaagan Sar is like a drinking marathon, and I am continually amazed by the acceptableness of pressuring people into drinking in this country. Not to say I don't participate whole-heartedly in said pressuring.
After a final, relatively calm, day of Tsaagan Sar, my stomach finally gave out and I got violently ill for a day. But now I am recovered, and have survived my first bout of serious gastro-intestinal distress in Mongolia (I'm amazed I was able to put it off as long as I had). Though Tsaagan Sar is officially over, it is still common to see people giving each other the traditional greeting in the street, and people still come into our office to greet everyone they haven't seen yet in the new year.
Back at work after the holiday, there are some big changes. My counterpart, Uunee has been promoted to the UB Mercy Corps office. This is a great move for her, but sad for me. I am also getting a new translator, and will be interviewing people tomorrow. I have high hopes that after I get back from my upcoming trip to Selenge and the Peace Corps training I will be able to do more things and interact with clients.
Preparations for Tsaagan Sar generally begin at least a week before hand. I was lucky enough to be able to help Uunee and her parents make their buuz. Many Mongolian women say they don't like Tsaagan Sar because they have to pinch a billion buuz, but for someone who hasn't done this every year my entire life, it was pretty exciting. It began with Uunee's mom elbow-deep in a giant bowl full of ground mutton, spices and salt. While she mixed the filling, Uunee and I began rolling out the 3-inch circles of dough. Making buuz assembly-line style for Tsaagan Sar was really fun, and after pinching about 5 buuz I had it down and even made some that could have been mistaken as Mongolian-made. I had planned to count how many buuz I pinched, but had to concentrate so hard on the first few I quickly gave that up. I'm sure it was a couple hundred though, I was at it for over two hours.
Tsaagan Sar eve was February 7th, a day spent cleaning house and spending time with immediate family, eating lots of food. This day is called "Bituun," which means to fill yourself up or become full. I spent the day cleaning my apartment and desperately trying to finish learning a Mongolian song (I have discovered that my problem is I absolutely cannot carry a tune). The first day of Tsaagan Sar I was invited to spend with Uunee's family. So about 10 am I put on my winter del and headed up the mountain to Uunee's house. We began the day in the grandparent's ger, which is inside Uunee's parents' hashaa. Upon entering a house for a Tsaagan Sar visit, you seek out the oldest man and greet him by putting your arms under his while he kisses or sniffs your cheeks. Usually you present him with a small gift or a small amount of money. Then you proceed to the oldest woman etc. People who are younger than you put their arms under yours and you sniff or kiss their cheeks. The Tsaagan Sar greeting immediately made me feel welcomed, people I had never met before sniffed or kissed my cheeks and asked "how are you, are you having a good new year?" Following this greeting the men and older women pull out their snuff bottles and offer them to everyone who has been greeted. After all these greetings and well-wishing the aaruul, milk vodka, aireg and vodka begin to be passed around, followed by buuz. As new people came into the ger everyone would shuffle around, and the new older people would greet Uunee's grandparents, and then sit down and everyone else would line up to greet them. I stayed with Uunee's family for about four hours, drinking, eating and looking at family pictures.
The second day of Tsaagan Sar I visited my friend Amu, who I met last September in the market. She goes to school in Erdenet, but was home visiting for Tsaagan Sar. While I was visiting her a couple of her friends came over, and then another of her friends came and picked us up and was going to take me home. We drove around for awhile picking up other people, and they were trying to decide what to do (everything was closed for Tsaagan Sar), so I invited them to come to my apartment. They all came over and bought a ridiculous amount of beer, vodka and food. We played Mongolian cards and hung out until eventually everyone fell asleep on my floor. The next morning I went to visit Dashka, my supervisor. Tsaagan Sar is like a drinking marathon, and I am continually amazed by the acceptableness of pressuring people into drinking in this country. Not to say I don't participate whole-heartedly in said pressuring.
After a final, relatively calm, day of Tsaagan Sar, my stomach finally gave out and I got violently ill for a day. But now I am recovered, and have survived my first bout of serious gastro-intestinal distress in Mongolia (I'm amazed I was able to put it off as long as I had). Though Tsaagan Sar is officially over, it is still common to see people giving each other the traditional greeting in the street, and people still come into our office to greet everyone they haven't seen yet in the new year.
Back at work after the holiday, there are some big changes. My counterpart, Uunee has been promoted to the UB Mercy Corps office. This is a great move for her, but sad for me. I am also getting a new translator, and will be interviewing people tomorrow. I have high hopes that after I get back from my upcoming trip to Selenge and the Peace Corps training I will be able to do more things and interact with clients.
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