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October 25, 2008

I woke up and made a quick trip to city today. How was it quick, you ask? Well, let me just tell you the story of my day.

The meeker (microbus) usually gets into UB around 15 til 11. I prefer to walk an hour across town to get to the Peace Corps office, so as to get the exercise and save money, but it was cold and I was in a hurry to get somewhere warm. Walking through the market, I was approached by several taxi drivers offering their services. I would’ve gone with the first one, but he wasn’t willing to take me where I wanted to go, for whatever reason only he knows. The guy who said he would take me where I wanted was as shady looking as the others, but he was willing to take me. My suspicion was raised even more when I had to ask him twice how much it costs per km. That is something you have to ask up front, cause they will do everything they can to cheat you, if you aren’t careful. He told me the price that I was expecting (500tg/km), and when I got in the car with him, I checked his odometer. That is something else you have to watch. If you aren’t paying attention, they can tell you any random number and expect you to pay them accordingly. When we took off, his odometer was on 8. I thought it odd that he didn’t reset it to zero, but didn’t say anything. As we pulled into where I was to get out, the odometer rolled over to 13, making the trip 5 km (3.1 miles). As I was slowly doing some quick math in my head, talking out loud to myself, the driver said, “Thirteen kilometres.” I looked at him oddly and asked him to repeat what he said. I had heard right: he was trying to charge me for 13 km. So, I started arguing with him, telling him that it was on 8 when we left, and now it was on 13, therefore, I should only be charged 2,500tg, not 6,500tg. The whole time, he had this smirk on his face that let me know he thought he was going to be able to get away with something. Luckily, the conversation was simple, so I didn’t falter on my Mongolian. I think that helped. Finally, he said, “Okay, you pay 3,000tg.” Hesitantly, I agreed. When I started counting my money, I only had enough small bills for what the price should have been, and several 10,000tg bills for which he didn’t have change. If I was a really mean-spirited person, I would’ve pressed my advantage and only given him what I had – and I did think about it – but I decided that I didn’t want to make anyone mad. So, we both got out and went in search of finding change. We happened to be right in front of the big movie theatre, so, after asking a street vendor if he had change, we went there. It was full of tweens, and the guy was rushing ahead of me, and a couple of times I had the notion to turn my back on him and disappear into the crowd. Again, I decided that I didn’t want to cheat anyone, so I followed him to the first cash register, then up the stairs to another when she didn’t have change. Both times, the guy kept reaching for my money, trying to make the transaction for me. I had a feeling that if I gave him the money, he would take what he wanted, and there would be no way for me to get it back. I clutched onto that 10,000tg bill like it was all I had. After I’d gotten change and handed him the 3,000tg, he turned and ran like I was chasing him. I guess he knew he got away with something shady and was afraid I was going to make a fuss. If I’d have known Mongolian better, I probably would have, too.

So, that took up more of my time that I wanted, making my visit to the Peace Corps office later than expected. I wasn’t there long, but when I left, I walked another PCV who was in the city to somewhere she didn’t know – which was in the opposite direction of where I was headed. My next stop was at the State Department Store. I found some cheap, non-Mongolian beer that I got. It was still a lager, though. Man, I’m getting tired of those. I would do many things for a hefty hefeweizen, or a wonderful wheat bier. I also, finally, found a toilet brush. My toilet wasn’t exactly clean when I moved in, and in the 2+ months that I’ve been here, it’s only gotten worse. When I got home and cleaned it this evening, it looked like I was in a whole new bathroom.

From there, I went to Cafe Amsterdam, where my computer still wouldn’t connect to the internet. That is really starting to annoy me. Since I formatted my computer, I now have to register my version of Windows and MS Office. I have 13 days left. Maybe I can do it at work, but I’ll be surprised if I can. After my coffee and panini, I didn’t have enough money for a taxi ride to the market and the meeker ride home, so I took off walking across town, with 10 lbs in my back pack, and another 10 lbs in my hands. I made it to the meeker with plenty of time to spare, but only because it left 45 minutes later than scheduled. Well, that’s why I’d taken a book, so I hardly noticed.

For my dinner, I made some cheese and garlic biscuits and gravy that was in one of the packages I received. My favourite breakfast when I was back home was biscuits, gravy, bacon, sunny-side-up eggs, strawberry jam, and a big glass of whole milk to wash it all down. Needless to say, I haven’t had anything like that since being here, and I was really looking forward to those biscuits and that gravy. About 10 biscuits were made, and two cups of gravy. I ate every bit of it, with strawberry jam on top. The biscuits were a little too salty for me, but it was still very good. I dipped a few of the biscuits in Ranch dressing. When I used to work at Red Lobster, I would dip one of their biscuits in Ranch dressing. I could eat a dozen of those things like that, but I only allowed myself one. Well, maybe two if I thought I deserved it. Do you have any idea how many calories are in one of those biscuits? A lot!

October 27, 2008

I hadn’t been at work for 15 minutes when a guy came into my office, asking me for help. I couldn’t imagine what I would be able to help him with, other than some manual labour, but I followed him anyway. When we got down to the second floor, we went into an office where a lady was trying to make a copy machine do what she wanted. How did they know I was a copy machine genius in my previous job? Haha. They couldn’t get the thing to register the size paper they were using, after they had put it into the loader. I took the paper out, placed it into the side loader, pressed the right button, and then hit Copy. It worked perfectly. Yep, I’ve still got copy machine skillz! Yes, with a “z.”

This morning, I went to the school and met with the art teacher. Last week, I received an email about One World’s Classroom cross-cultural art exchange. I thought it was cool, and easy, so I decided to see if the art teacher was interested. He was. Basically, 30 kids will make some art of something that has to do with their culture, and then I’ll mail it to the company. After they receive what I’ve sent, they will send us 30 pieces of art from kids all around the world. If you are interested in learning more, or doing it yourself, here is the link: www.oneworldclassrooms.org/. You don’t have to be a teacher, or even work in the school system, to get the project started. Just do like me and find the art teacher, or if they don’t have one, talk to any teacher. Heck, you might be able to do it with 30 random kids around town. There is an email on there to ask questions, so just ask. The guy seemed nice and had a quick response when I emailed him.

After the meeting, the teacher who works with the student council walked into the room, so I took the opportunity to ask her a few questions. A few weeks ago, she had asked me to help her start a student council. Or, at least, that’s what I thought she was wanting. Come to find out, they already have a student council and she just wanted me to help with it since I am a Youth Volunteer. That changed my questions only slightly. After some talk of what the student council does, I became appalled at some of their rules. The one that got my attention the most, though, is the one that says that if any student misses 45 hours of school, they are kicked out. “For how long,” I asked. “For the rest of the school year,” was the teachers rejoinder. What! Even if, after the first few months of school, a student has missed 45 hours of school, they will be kicked out of school for the rest of the year. I said, “That doesn’t sound right. That could be detrimental to all kinds of things in that kid’s life, if they are forced to miss an entire year of school.” Mongolia is much like America in that if you don’t have a high school diploma, you can’t find a decent job. Not necessarily a good one, but a decent one. I told them that maybe they should think about changing the rules, so maybe there is like a 3 strikes kind of thing. Say, a kid misses 12 hours, they are suspended for a day. If they miss 20 hours, they are suspended for 3 days. If they miss 45 hours, then you can see what, if any, extenuating circumstances might be involved; and then talk about kicking them out for the rest of the year. The teacher said, “In Mongolia, schools are very different than America.” I said that I was well aware of that, and then said: “If a 3-year-old child has been told not to touch something, and then she does, you don’t just haul off and punch her in the face. First, you might pull her hand away and remind her that she isn’t to touch that thing. If she does it again, you might smack her hand and tell her again to not touch that thing. If she does it a third time, you might spank her bottom and tell her, again, she is not to touch that thing. You don’t just haul off and punch her in the face, right off the bat.” I was told that during the days of Mongolia socialism, they were very strict in school, and there are still many things like that. I just shook my head, seeing that I wasn’t going to convince them in just a few minutes, and dropped it. Man, I’m glad I’m not a teacher here.

October 28, 2008

Today was my day to teach at the water company. At the end of my lesson, they asked me to eat with them again, and then paid for it when I said yes. I sat down to another big plate of beef and rice. If they make this a regular thing, they might just move into the spot for my favourite class. While there, I had a new kind of drink calls ardz. When I asked what it was, someone said it was “fat tea,” which made someone else giggle. When I got it, it tasted like warm, thick airag. Not what I was expecting or hoping for. When I looked for the translation in my dictionary, it said that ardz is twice-distilled homemade vodka, or brandy made from milk. I guess it’s just warm, thick airag. I’m glad I had it, but I think I’ll try to avoid it in future.

At the school today, some of the students had made a lot of art using Mongolian script. Mongolian script is written from top to bottom and kind of looks like Arabic to me; but I think it looks better. I have no idea how to read it, though I’ve had several people point out the letters of different words. To make it harder, the sounds that are used when reading script are different that those used in colloquial Mongolian. It’s said that one could write script whilst riding on the back of a horse. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Some of the words are very cool. For example, the word for horse kind of looked like a horse. Same for sheep and bird. I took several pictures, so if I ever get them uploaded, you can see them then.

This afternoon, I ended up in the law consultant’s office. It was three ladies and I, then another guy showed up. I could tell that he was acting a little different, but I had no idea he was drunk until he winked and showed me the vodka bottle in his coat. Next thing I knew, he was pouring some into my empty water bottle. The women all fussed at him and told me not to drink it. I thought it funny when, just a few minutes later, one of them rushed to lock the outer door while another pulled a coffee cup out of her desk and handed it to the guy. They do shots different here. In the U.S., people usually get their own shot glass. They are all filled at the same time and everyone takes the shot together. Here, the person with the bottle has one shot glass/coffee cup/bowl/bottom of a cut up water bottle or whatever else there is to drink out of and pours one shot at a time, passing them out in a circle. I never understand why Mongolians make a big deal out of me drinking the whole shot. There is something cultural going on that I haven’t figured out yet. I don’t know if I set the precedent, or if the guy was just being particularly pushy, but when the girls didn’t finish their shot, he pressed them to do so. I taught them the saying, “Peer pressure is a b----.” I don’t think they got it.

This evening, I was told there would be a dance at the Culture Centre that would start at 7. I waited on Tsegii to get off work, since she said she was coming for tutoring. After a few minutes of going over some technical jargon that the cell phone company had texted to her, we left and got there around 8:30. Before we left, I asked her if she thought it was alright for me to wear the t-shirt and jeans I had on. She laughed and told me I should change. I was glad I did when I got there and saw that not one person was wearing jeans or a t-shirt. It was a good thing I waited on Tsegii: in typical Mongolian fashion, things didn’t get started until after 9. At first, the governor got up and gave away a few plaques, and then there was a performance by a group of high school students. After that, the waltzes started. I’ve already mentioned how I don’t know those, so when I saw people start asking one another to dance – with some asking people to the left and right of me – I got up and vamped. As an excuse, I bought a juice at the store. When I came back, I stood in the corner, behind some guys who were close to my age that didn’t seem any more interested in waltzing that I was. The governor stopped everything two or three more times to give out more plaques, and there was one more performance by a high school student. Tsegii and some other friends pulled me out of my corner and got me to sit with them. Though I was glad to have someone near to talk to, I was nervous about being asked to dance the whole time. I really did not want to get out on the floor in front of everyone, knowing that everyone would be watching my every step. Everyone already watches and comments on everything I do anyway, without me making a fool of myself. There was one drunk guy there, stumbling over his and his partner’s feet, running two or three girls off the floor when he nearly fell over and took them with him, so I didn’t need to be the second stumbler. I wasn’t drunk by any means, but I was so self-conscious that I knew I would be all over everyone’s feet.

It was funny to watch the beginning and end of each waltz. Mongolians, as a people, are fairly shy. If you didn’t know any better, you might think they are rude. But they all seem to enjoy dancing, even if they don’t always have the rhythm for it. Whenever a new waltz was to begin, people would always wait for a few beats before they got up, walk across the room, and ask pretty much anyone to dance. Women could often be seen waltzing together, but of course, men never did. Men would ask any woman to dance, no matter whose girlfriend or wife she might be. The boyfriends or husbands never acted like they cared one bit. They would spin and twirl all over the dance floor with big smiles on their faces. Then, about two notes before the final one, everyone would break up and dash toward the seats. It was like they did not want to be on the floor last, with no music. I barely suppressed my mirth every time.

As usual, the people-watching provided me with plenty of entertainment. That is, until they started the hip-hop music. As soon as they turned the lights down a little and the slow, syrupy thump-thump-thump of the bass got into people’s bones, everyone jumped up and formed their circles. The way they dance to hip-hop is nothing like I’m used to, so I decided to, once again, keep my seat. That is, until they widened the circle until I was practically a part of it. At that point, I felt compelled to get up and shuffle my feet a little. Ha, the drunk guy was there, stomping his feet loudly and off-beat, in the centre of the circle, drawing everyone’s attention. He did that for about five minutes before an older lady came and grabbed him and made him sit down. If there is a drunken guy around being too much of a nuisance, you can always count on some random grandmother to pull him away and say a few stern words to him. At one point, he went around, trying to get people to get in the middle and dance. I think only two people actually did. I knew I was in his sights and I was ready for him. When he reached for my arm, I took his hand and pulled him to me. I thought that might be enough, but he was persistent. One of the ladies quickly came over and told him to leave me alone. People are fairly protective of me around here. It’s kind of nice.

I met one lady, Ariuka, who is the daughter of the dance teacher. She studied English at university and speaks a little, but not very well. Before, I was told that most English teachers in Mongolia don’t speak very good English themselves. They and their students can usually read and write alright, but not speak very well. She wants me to help her get better. I told her if she would teach me how to do Mongolian waltzes, we might be able to work out a deal. I’ll let you know how that goes. Early in the night, when she asked me why I didn’t know how, I told her that very few people in America dance like that anymore, so it is difficult for me. She told me she didn’t like to dance to hip-hop music because it is difficult. I laughed at her, just like she did at me when she kept saying how easy the waltzes were. I’ll show her my hip-hop videos and let her learn that way. Ha, not like there would be anyone else to dance with her like that. Even if she knew how, I wouldn’t, since we would be the only two in the whole town. And if you’ve ever seen the dancing that goes on in most hip-hop videos, you can imagine the kind of rumours dancing like that might start. There’s only one person I dance like that with, and she ain’t here.

Oh, here’s a funny story. When we were talking about waltzes and Mongolian national dances, Tsegii and Ariuka started talking about the American national dance. I just looked at them, confused. I had no idea what they were talking about. After much explanation and repeating, I finally figured out that they were talking about line dancing. I gave them a big guffaw and told them that line dancing is not the national dance. I laughed about that for several minutes.

October 29, 2008

Today, when I got ready to go to the other part of town, the social workers from over there pulled up. There was a big meeting here today, and they came here for the day. I kind of wanted to go there, though, cause there is a store over there that has four different kinds of Mongolian kimchi. I’ve only tried one, and it is awesome. I usually get a ½ kilogram every week, but since this is the second week I haven’t been over there, this will be the second week that I’ll go without. Maybe I can get someone over there to bring some back for me. Man, I sure hope so. I really like that stuff.

So, that put me with nothing to do today. Just to re-emphasise: I don’t mind having nothing to do. I talked to one of my friends the other day, who is also a Youth Volunteer, and he said that he doesn’t do anything more than teach English, also. Last week, my boss asked me what I do when I’m in my office. I looked at her, smiled, and said, “Oh, all kinds of stuff,” then went on to make up some stuff about doing Peace Corps work, planning English lessons, and trying to find other things to work on. Luckily, I really do those things, so I wasn’t lying; but I didn’t tell her how little of my time those things take up. I feel a little bit guilty for not being busy 40 hours a week, but every time I start to, I remember during my training when we were advised to spend the first 6 months just building relationships in the community. At that time, I looked forward to it, and it’s something that I currently enjoy doing. I often stop to say hi and have a short chat with building workers, social workers, firemen, policemen, kids, street sweepers or any other random person I run in to. So far, it’s only had good results, and I can only expect it to get better. Oh, and since informing Americans about the culture of Mongolia is one of the three Peace Corps goals, I consider writing for my blog PC work. That counts, right?

This afternoon, the school had their annual Cinderella fashion show. At first, I thought that they were putting on a play. I found out that the students designed the clothes and also modelled them. It was very well put on. Some of those girls should not have been wearing what they were, though. They are full grown women in all but name, and you could definitely see it in some of the revealing dresses they were wearing. I was surprised that they got away with that at school, let alone at all. I can’t imagine a school in the U.S. allowing something like that.

October 30, 2008

I got some kimchi today! Yay! I got one of the teachers that was in the other part of town to bring some back for me. As soon as I got home, I opened the bag and started chowing down. Man, that stuff is so good. Like I’ve said before, there are four different kinds, but I always get the same one. I’ll have to try the others, eventually.

I got the IT guy to help me connect my computer to the internet today. It wasn’t as simple as plugging the wire into my computer, but he only took a minute to make it work. Something with setting up a new network connection. Have I ever told you about the way internet works here in my town? I don’t think I have. The whole town is on the same network. I mean the entire town: the governor’s office, the school, the water company, any individual. Everyone. When I found out about that, I no longer wondered why I often get a message saying that someone else on the network has the same IP address as me. No wonder. To top it off, the connection is only 100 Mbps. In case you don’t know, that is way slower than dial-up in the U.S. I think that I will buy the wireless thingy that a couple of cell phone companies sell, the next time I go to the city. I haven’t priced it, or the plans, but I think the thing itself costs around $200. That’s a little expensive, and way out of my budget, but I think it will be worth it in the long run. If any of you loving people would like to help me finance this piece of technology that will help my mental health, you will be more than appreciated. My personal banker takes checks on my behalf and will see that they are deposited into my account. If you do, please let me know, so I can thank you properly.

October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween!

I told my boss and co-worker about Halloween, saying that it was an American holiday. They started shaking my hand and telling me congratulations. Haha. I laughed, telling them that it wasn’t that kind of holiday. We talked about setting up something for next year, for the kids. I’m sure they will get a kick out of dressing up. I’ll most likely get the Culture Centre to work with me. Next year, I’ll ask for ideas on things to do. I’ll let you know how it goes. I know a couple of groups of Volunteers who are having events and parties at their sites. They have more than a few other Volunteers with them, so I can see how it would be much easier for them to set something like that up. I was invited to their parties, but since they are at least a 10-hour meeker ride away, I won’t go. One and a half hours to go to the city is too much for me. Those things get cramped. A couple buddies back in the U.S. are having parties, too. I wish I could be there. Our Halloween parties were always loads of fun. Ha, I’ll never forget the year that I and another buddy dressed as a clown. Fitting, most people thought. I have a picture of us here, in my apartment. Whenever Mongolians see it, they always laugh and wonder why I’m dressed like that. They have a holiday in the spring that has similarities – they dress in their finest and go door to door, eating “boats” and drinking vodka – but I don’t think they quite get Halloween. Maybe next year.

Well, it’s the end of another week, and I’m looking forward to a lazy weekend. I really need to wash some clothes. I’ve been putting that off for about a week now. I wish they had dryers in Mongolia. Well, I’m sure they do, but not that I’ve ever seen for sale. I think I’ll cook some good food this weekend, too. During the week, I usually get lazy about cooking and make simple pasta meals. I love pasta, so it’s never a problem, but I always want “boats.” Since those things take hours to prepare, I don’t cook them that much. Some women go home and make them on their lunch break. They are fast about what they do, though. Most women here I’ve seen handling kitchen knives can do it as fast as any TV-chef I’ve ever seen. Ha, one time, Tsegii was watching me cut something and said, “Let me do that,” as she grabbed the knife from me. She was either hungry, or was tired of watching me plod my way through that carrot.

I hope you all are good. I miss you. Have fun partying tonight, and please be careful. Send pics!