soupy says

I did not give UB a just description. Here’s another attempt:

UB feels like a big city. Horrific traffic jams. You must look both ways and hold your breath as you cross the street. For the first time since I’ve been in Mongolia, I realized I could get lost.

Men with blond streaks in their hair.

Non-PCV white people. Lots of them. It’s high-tourist season.

I bought a banana on the street. A fat, delicious banana. It cost almost 500T. A fat, delicious, expensive banana.

I bought the banana right after I purchased popcorn. From a movie theater. I didn’t see a movie. I split the 2,000T bag along three others. The theater had neonish lights inside and tiny flat screen TVs showing previews. A saw a few flat screen TVs throughout my stay.

The US Embassy had air conditioning. I reacted quite strongly to the woman in the standard blue suit government garb. I looked at the embassy staff, and then looked at the Peace Corps staff and volunteers are felt glad to be where I was.

We stayed at the International Dorms of an university. We heard stories of people climbing the balconies in order to swipe tourists’ belongings. My suite mates had a TV in their room. I spent part of my stay watching BBC News and Bridget Jones’s Diary in English. (The shit is once again hitting the fan in the Middle East, huh?) The outlets in the dorms fried my new flat iron my mother sent me and my roomie’s Ipod charger.

I spent 1,8000T on a DVD bootleg of Office Space.

I went to Gandaa, a monestary that has some buildings that weren’t destroyed by the Russians. I saw giant Buddha. Someone tried to swipe my wallet from my messenger bag.

I saw “You don’t kill people. You must kill Chinese” spray painted on a building.

The most amazing bathroom, ever: sit-down toilet with running water, soap, hand-dryer and lotion. Needless to say, this restaurant was posh. I did not eat there, but I had friends drop large amounts cash there.

Oh, yeah, restaurants and stores that took credit cards! Say what?

I shocked the woman taking my train ticket to get on the train because I said, “Za.” “Za” is the equivalent to “ok.”

You better believe I sang karaoke.

I heard information with the health group from the Ministry of Health, the WHO, the UNFPA, and a traditional medicine doctor.

PCVs showed us where to spend 1,500 on a vegetarian meal.

Paul, the Medical Officer, showed us his expensive garden. I have never seen Bock Choy that large.

Really, where do those random stores get Costco and Sam’s Club items?

I’m back at site now and doing great…I have less than a month of training…what? 

Since most health volunteers teach some english at site, we each have to teach a lesson at the aimag hospital for practice. I had two rows of a total 24 nurses stare at me while I tried to teach them the words “hospital,” “doctor,” “nurse,” “dentist,” “medicine,” “patient,” and “ambulance.”  The white paper caps did not make the scene less intimdating. I had never taught English before. I had never really taught anything before. Giving powerpoint presenations does not equal standing in front of a group of Mongolians and trying to figure if they actual comprehend what you are saying instead of just parroting the words I said. It was hard to not use the little Mongolian I know.

I started the fire for dinner two nights this week. It gives me hope that I won’t freeze to death if I end up in an apartment. My dad also completed a shower house. A big vat of water sits on top and is heated by the sun. Basically, it is a solar shower. I have yet to use it, but I am excited to leave bucket baths behind.

Oh man, I’m going to have dreams about that banana for quite some time.

oh, I got a few pics up on flickr: http://flickr.com/photos/soupy

I am writing this from the Peace Corps office in the capitol of Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar (UB). In a few hours the Health and Community Youth Development Trainees will get on the train and arrive back in SB at 4:30 AM.

When I have been asked how I like UB, I usually respond with “interesting” or “different.” UB really is the only truly “urban” place in Mongolia. While here I have eaten real pizza, drank real coffee, and stood in a market and enjoyed the smell of fresh veggies.

Have you ever stood in the grocery store and truly enjoyed the smell of fresh vegetables? You should.

UB is expensive. When you’re here, you want to eat western food because it is the only place in the country where it is not “Mongolized.” Well, I really have no idea what was in the “guacamole,” but it wasn’t avocados. However, these restaurants for ex-pats and tourists. As Peace Corps volunteers, we do not have the money that expats and tourists have. I had a couple 4,000T meals. That’s less than $4, but that is expensive as hell.

UB is more westernized. I don’t think anyone would argue with that. Many people go so far to say that UB isn’t Mongolia. However, with all this cultural shift, there is still a connection to some of the past. I have heard traditional Mongolian songs on the radio and in clothing stores.

I have a month left of training. We have a lot to do in that month: a health project, a community project, teaching english, and language and tech sessions. Time is going to fly.

 Darkhan did turn out to be a well deserved break. It was three informational session-filled days, but it was a chance to catch up with other trainees, bitch/brag about host families, and just relax.

In the end, I am happy I got to take the train. When we go to UB on Saturday, we are going by train, but we are traveling at night, and the scenery will be lost on us. And there is scenery to see. Mongolia in the summertime is simply beautiful. The recent rains certainly haven’t hurt.

We got to the hotel at 8:30am. Our first session didn’t start until 11am. We all had one order of business on our minds: a shower.

So far, life without running water has not been a difficult adjustment. Having to walk outside when you have to pee at 3am is a pain, but what I really miss the ease of turning on a faucet. You can control the flow of cold and hot water with such ease! Anyway, I really haven’t perfected washing my thick  hair in the bucket bath. Bathing here seems to be such a project. I have a plastic tub that I fill with water and haul to my room. My mom heats some water so I’m not taking an ice cold bath. (Trust me, the well water is ice cold.) My family thinks I’m weird because I turn down my sister’s assistance during bath time. One sister scrubs the other’s hair, and then she will pour water over her to get her wet/rinse off the suds. I do have to admit that this is much more effective than my solo baths. However, I’m going to hold on that Americanism: bath time is me time. That’s be one cultural bridge I’ll never cross.

I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing my hair felt when I stepped out of the shower. So. Clean.

On the 4^th, the trainers and trainees competed in a basketball game. Honestly, I thought the game was going to be boring, and I wasn’t expecting to stay for the whole thing. However, the presentation of the whole event made it great. The trainers (and the Country Director, Ken) burst out onto the court wearing real basketball uniforms. They had them made by a woman in Darkhan. Jay, who left the country after three years the next day, came out with a mohawk. The game hasn’t even started, and I am laughing my ass off. The game came down to the wire: the trainers barely won. I cheered like an idiot through the whole thing. Afterwards, we were treated to “hot dogs,” “hamburgers,” and “pizza.” I think Jeff summed up the meal, “This is the best tasting worst pizza I’ve ever had.” There was real, Heinz ketchup. I was happy.

That night I got to experience a Mongolian club, Queens. It appears that I get to escape the American “meat market” dance clubs for two years. Mongols dance in circles, and every once in a while someone jumps in the middle to show off moves. I had a fantastic time.

On morning, my roommate Juli (another health volunteer) and I went on a walk to a big Buddha statue not too far from the hotel. While we were there, we were approached by the Lama (he identified himself as such), and then proceeded to chat (or attempt to) in Mongolian. I think we did ok. He actually asked us phrases that we know like “What do your parents do?” He wanted us to come back that evening for something, but we couldn’t. Twas a fun, random interaction.

We got back to our site on Wednesday night. I had my language test on Thursday, and it didn’t go as well as I hoped. I have been a little lax in studying lately, and it showed. I was a little hurt because I was asked if I wasn’t spending time with my host family, and if that was why my language wasn’t coming along. I spend most of my time with them! However, a lot of my speaking and listening happens between me and my little sister and just interacting with her isn’t moving my learning. I am trying to speak more with my Mom, but she tends to use my little sister as I interpreter instead of trying to understand me or trying to get me to understand her. It’s a little frustrating. She did try and help with my pronunciation this evening which was nice. Sadly, her approach is just to have to read a phrase until I say it correctly and then move to the next phrase. No retention, no conversation, just reading out load. I will continue to speak to her, and hopefully I can make some headway.

This past weekend was Naadam in my town. The country-wide Naadm goes from the 11^th – 13^th, but soums and aimag centers have their own Naadams. I saw my dad wrestle on Saturday. It was a bit of an upset. He went down in the third round. That evening my mom simply said that he wrestled badly that day. While he was sitting there. Quite a difference from the American “you did your best” lines. I saw a little bit of archery on Saturday, but it doesn’t seem to be a popular event. It was held outside of the stadium. Inside, a basketball tournament went all day. It appeared that everyone just played in whatever they happened to be wearing that day. What stood out was how slow the whole day moved. There is a lot of waiting. On Sunday I saw a horse race…sort of. I saw the winner come to the finish line. The losers were no wear to be seen. However, it was a bit scary because it is good luck to touch the winning horse’s sweat and then touch each of our family members. When the winner came in, a mass of people on foot and horses rushed to winner in order to touch it. I did not. I held my sister and stayed out of the way.

At the race I was stuck on a horse and got my photo taken. Later, some guy came over with his horse so I could repeat the “sit and take picture” act.

Naadam was not as exciting as I thought it would be. The family treated it like a pretty normal day except for going to see the wrestling. Only my sister and I went out on Sunday.

I am about to meet the Community Youth Development (CYD) trainees for a beer at the Chinges Bar. We don’t have class the 11^th - 13^th because it’s a national holiday. We are going hiking tomorrow. We hope to climb one of the mountainish hills behind the city. The idea is to take a picture of Russia from the top.

Well, I am in Darkhan, and I posted a couple of entries that I wrote hadn’t had a chance to upload. FYI: the “june 30th” post is older than that.

I didn’t get as much computer time as hoped…I want to check out a PCVT vs PCT b-ball game.

You’ll just have to wait on the pictures.

The countdown to shining beacon at the end of this week, mid-center days in Darkhan, has reached less than 24 hours. I am leaving my host family for three days with quite an accomplishment under my belt: I helped cook and clean up after a meal.

Ever since my arrival at my host family three weeks ago, I have been served to. The only meal preparation I have been allowed to do is stuff a few buutz, peel a potato, and roll a bit of flour for hoshers. I have cleaned my meal bowl a couple of times, but every time I offered to help with the dishes, I was told no or told it was my sister’s job.

However, today, my older sister, Bato, asked if I wanted to help make lunch. I said yes. We made noodle soup. Noodle soup has noodles, a little bit of meat, potatoes, carrots, and even a smaller bit of cabbage. Cooking is different here. I had never sliced small slices of meat from a giant hunk of sort of frozen meat. My sister probably thought I’d lied to her when I told her a could peel potatoes. I’m pretty clumsy at it with a big knife. However, my mom and aunt said it was tasty. I then helped clean all the dishes with Bato. A success.

I believe my family suddenly realized I could cook because on Saturday, all of the health trainees got together at Elisa’s and cooked for our LCFs (Language and Community Facilitors or Mongolian teachers) and various family members. Doug and a visiting M-15, Bridgett, joined us. Peace Corps gave us 12,000 Turgurks (less than $12) to have the experience shopping and cooking. We broke the bank and put on the quite the Mongolian-American fusion meal. We made pizza, potato salad, potato hoshers, and apple-cinnamon hoshers. Otherwise know as “a lot of food.”

The pizza almost didn’t happen. We went to the market in SB on Friday and could not find reasonably priced tomato paste and could find no cheese. Juli and Hamilton found some tomato paste in a random 5^th bagh store on Friday evening. Juli’s older brother knew where to get cheese and took a taxi into SB on Saturday morning. He came back with spreadable cheese. It worked wonderfully. My family has asked me to make pizza during Naadam.

Hamilton really wanted to make his potato salad. I’m really glad he did. Thanks to some mustard borrowed from Doug, everyone gobbled it down . Hamilton spent a lot  of time making it. Lots of love. I love the taste of love.

The potato hoshers are  one our  group’s favorite Mongolian dishes. They are basically fried pockets of potato (or meat). Some of us had seen or partially assisted our family’s making them, but we gave it a go. Melinda made some of her mashed potatoes. Like Hamilton’s potato salad, a lot of love and labor went into them. The hoshers did not look like mini-works of art when the Mongols make them, and ours were too greasy, but they tasted yummy and disappeared just like the the pizza and potatoes.

The apple-cinnamon hoshers were the real experiment. We were only able to make them thanks to the cinnamon supplied by Doug. Once we had confirmation of this essestinal ingredient, we drooled at the mere idea of them. They were a bit more tricky than the potato hoshers. The dough had to be thicker because the apples wanted to stick through the dough, and since the filling was runny, they had to be made right before we fried them otherwise, sogginess happened. After a final product taste test, we realized that we forgot to put sugar in the dough. We fixed this during the last batch by putting sugar and cinnamon on the dough before the filling. They were still tasty, but like my “summer of endless batches of fudge,” perfection is not reached on the try. The Americans liked the apple-cinnamon hoshers. The Mongols did not.

Cooking is different here. Everything is from scratch. It took hours to cook it all. We made all the dough. We couldn’t fry the hoshers while the pizza backed because we would overload the electrical system. We had only a few host family houses we could used for cooking because not everyone has an oven. If a store (or market stall) had cheese last week (or yesterday) , it doesn’t mean it was there today. Also, since we live outside the city, we have even less available walking distance away.

I cannot remember when I felt that full. After cooking, we played in the river. What a great day.

On Friday, during the first two hours of language class, each volunteer brought a family member to participate in a round robin speaking event. Each PCT sat with each family member for 10-15 minutes to simply speak. It went well. My brain didn’t ache as much as when we chatted with the kids for an hour, but by the thirty minutes or so, my brain felt like mush. I did manage to find out some interesting information during the last chat with  Hamilton’s mom. They own 40 goats. The other day, feeling a bit frustrated over language, and thought, “A month ago I spoke no Mongolian.” After Friday’s session, Ashley’s sister told Ashley my Mongolian was good. I feel that mine is about middle of the road compared to everyone in the group. I have making more an effort to speak with my host family, and that has helped. I have a mid-service spoken language assessment on Thursday. I’m hoping to score “Novice-Mid.” Peace Corps wants everyone at “Novice-High” by the end of the summer.

That night Melinda and I walked into the yard just as Bato came carrying a 1.5L pastic bottle of beer. My parents had Michelle’s parents over and another friend. They were already working on the vodka. The beer had been bought for the women. (My 16 year old sister did not drink. She is just the beer purchaser.) It turned out that my father was celebrating receiving a pin from the President of the Aimag. It symbolized that  he was wrestling in the SB Naadam.  He had known from some time (the paper was dated 6/6/06), but now it was official. In pin form. It had images of the three “manly sports” that occur during Naadam: horse racing, arrow shoot and wrestling. Women compete in everything but wrestling.

Melinda and I joined in for some beer, laughter and singing. What a great country.

Tomorrow, I head to Darkhan for mid-center days. We were supposed to take a Meeker and leave at 9. However, last night’s rain washed out a bridge. We are taking the train at 6 instead. I have to be up at 5.