One week in UB

My apologies for such a lengthy post. And, unfortunately, I'm having a difficult time posting pics, so I'll have to add them later. If it’s too long, just know that I am alive and well and very happy. I miss everybody, and I’m so grateful to everyone who helped me get here; I really am so blessed by you. to Taylor, Adam, and Zach for helping me aquire necessary gear; to Carol, mom, Aunt Leann, and others for the great party; thanks to Renee, Lillian, Rachel, Tom, Peggy, and others who helped me make this trip possible, to my friends, neighbors (Denis and Linda and Kay and Will); thanks especially to Aunt Leanne, who literally, with Luke, kept us calm and sane and ready, to my wonderful Luke, who kept things light, threw another party....
After my first journey across the Pacific Ocean, I had accrued a mild case of jet lag, ten new friends with whom I may bounce ideas and share new things, two friends who I may or may not see again (Hiro, who was traveling to Japan to see his grandmother, and Tuvshinbayar, who was doing business in China for a Mongolian cell phone company), some extra language practice, thanks to Tuvshin, and a baggie of chili chips, courtesy of Alaskan Airlines. At the Chinggis Khan airport, Ulzzi bagsh, the Academic Director, met us and brought us to the Anujin Zochin Buudald, where we would spend our first night in Ulaanbaatar (UB). Half an hour later, we were at the school and orientation had begun. From then until yesterday, Mongolia’s National Women’s Day, we were “in school” from nine to about 5:30 every day; this included a tour of UB-- guided by our four language teachers, Tuya, Zaya, Bagana, and Boloroo--, a trip to Naraantuul Zakh (the “black” market), meetings with the US Ambassador and the director of the American Center for Mongolian Studies, a private lecture on the history of the Great Khans by the Director of Intelligence, numerous (and lengthy) lectures from the SIT staff and others on safety and class expectations, and evening performances: “Khan Eagle”, an opera portraying the hero Sukhbaatar freeing the Mongolian people from Manchu rule, and a colorful performance by the Mongolian Folk Dance and Music Ensemble, featuring Mongolian longsong, Shamanic tsam dances, and morin khuur (the horse fiddle, often accompanying throat singing). Tonight, we will attend “The Fountain of Bakchisarai” ballet. Two local Gandan Tegchiliin Hiid lamas were welcomed to the school on Friday to perform a “good will and blessing ceremony”, which both marked the end of orientation and asked protection for our trip to Bayankhongor aimag on Monday.
Overall, the Mongolian people seem very kind and open, a trait which some contribute to the country’s relative isolation over the years. This is even the case in the crowded streets of UB, where pickpocketers comprise the most numerous criminal offenses. Mongolia is seen as a very safe place to travel. UB, of course, has negatives as well, which I have witnessed only partially, including open manholes where homeless children spend the cold winters next to dangerously hot pipes, lots of stray dogs, frozen spit (everybody spits) and urine on the sidewalks, and heavy dust and pollution, especially in the winter months when coal is burnt in the ger (yurt) district for heat. We usually walk to school in the mornings (unless we’re late), and we often feel a little loopy by the time we make the 40 min. walk.
Most Mongolians practice yellow Buddhism, mixed with Shamanic practices. The ovoo is a pile of rocks with two spirit banners found on hilltops or valley mouths, which, when one comes to it and ritualistically walks its circumference three times, gives an individual good luck with the natural spirits of the area.
I think this is going to be a very good program. Right now I feel a bit babied and herded. My sweet language teacher, Boloroo, actually holds my hand to usher me across the street. I asked a woman for directions yesterday, and she did the same thing. (I guess this is understandable, since pedestrians are purely opportunistic and ‘walk’ signals mostly go unheeded by the traffic. I’ve come to consider an uninterrupted walk across the six lanes of Peace Avenue a reason to get excited and a welcome break to my Frogger routine.) There’s a lot going on all the time. I’ve gotten to know the ten other students fairly well in this week, and we’ve gotten pretty comfortable with one another from being together day and night. While I really do like having these friends who, I think, accept me like I accept them, I am looking forward to going out in the country, where I’ll have to speak Mongolian if I want to speak (besides, ironically, during my language classes, which is the only for-sure time I’ll see Di and Liz [there’s three to a class] and Boloroo).
I’ve found a couple of times to slip off by myself (very safe, sensible times, mind you). The funniest was yesterday, March 8th, Woman’s Day. There were lots of people out and about, lots of them carrying flowers for or from the significant women or men in their life, so I was in a good mood, and happy to be only a one-man sore thumb. The goal was to get some laundry done, but the Metro Express was closed, so the second goal was to return a book to the ACMS library, which I had to find first. As I said before, I had a pleasant mini-conversation with a lady who gave me directions (never mind that I hadn’t told her the right building), and I was feeling proud of myself for getting directions a second time in the same (wrong) direction. After carrying my dirty laundry into a completely new-to-me part of town (a very sunny, safe place full of pagodas lining the street dividers), I decided I was very hungry and bought a relatively expensive meal for under $5 at a Korean restaurant. It took me two hours to eat it all (eight salads, a bowl of egg flour soup, a full plate of fried rice with beef and veggies, and half a pitcher of tea). After eating,, I set off back in the direction I had come and was followed for about 15 minutes by a very obnoxious boy insisting that I should be giving him money. Finally he kicked me in the butt and left me in peace. I asked directions from about seven different guards in seven different buildings, one of which was making very funny blowfish-like kissy faces at me. Turns out, I had passed the stupid building about half a dozen times. It was locked, so I’m going back tomorrow morning before we fly away.
Again, I’m really excited about going to the country. We all got suited up in the traditional dels; mine is dark green with gold trim, and I’ve got some old, black riding boots to go with it. We’re headed to the northern Galuut soum (county) of Bayankhongor aimag (province) in the western half of the desert-steppe area surrounding the Gobi. Once we get to our homestays, we will be using horses for our main source of transportation; everyday we will travel to one of the gers where a fellow language classmate or teacher is staying. My host family (see pic) seems pretty fun. My “host-dad”, Agvaantogtoch (if I’m right), is 26 yrs old. Baatar axh, Ulzii bagsh’s husband, told me not to be surprised if he talks kinda shortly (“Sit there! Eat that now.”). His wife Burmaa is 23, and they have a three yr old daughter named Nomin-Erdene. Aren’t they cute? Baatar axh also told me they have a ferocious dog. I think he’s trying to scare me. J The good news is that Baatar axh, Ulzii bagsh, and Ulzii axh (who gave us a 1.5 hr horse riding safety lecture without the use of a horse) are going to be my neighbors; I probably wouldn’t even have to ride a horse to sprint over there if I needed a bandaid.