In The Land of Chinngis Khaan

Revolution or Riot

2009-08-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

I never posted this blog written July 2008 because going to the election riots was a clear violation of my volunteer contract. However, it's a year later and I'm procrastinating dissertation research - so voila.

At around 7:30pm July 1^st I was getting ready to head to a bar for a quiet Canada Day drink when I got a text message from a friend saying she watching rioting on the Mongolian news. With all the campaigning over the past month I knew the election was the day before, and had heard that the communists had won a surprising majority. Despite rumors of election fraud I was still in disbelieve that pacifist Mongolia, one of the only USSR states to walk into and out of Soviet rule without so much as a stone throw, had turned to rioting in the streets of Ulaanbaatar. Having to witness this for myself I soon found myself in the midst of a revolution.

I was in front of the Mongolian People’s Revolution Party’s headquarters where wood scraps and styrofoam tubes where being rushed in from the neighboring building site to build the fire which was already pouring out of the first floor windows. A generation of young Mongolian men were running into the building with scraps and running out with computers, documents, rugs, and bottles of booze, some would make off with their loot while others would either have it stolen them or burn it up in the smaller fires littering the park in front of the MCRP building.

Police were keeping a distance, firing tear gas and rubber bullets into the crowd, intermittently everyone would start running towards you and then you would turn and run towards others trying not to get trampled until the mass realized it was another false alarm and then race towards the chaos yet again.

Then the riot police charged. I was tying a shirt around my face after some tear gas had dropped close by when I heard the screaming and turned to see the riot squad rushing in, I thought I was going to get crushed under the rabble, when I reached the fence the task of maneuvering a spot to fling my leg over seemed an impossible task between all the bodies. Making it beyond the first obstacle there were still rows of hedges we had to tear though to get to the street, lining up to rush though the spaces between the branches the police were moving in closer and closer to us, I was almost at the end of the course when a large woman struggling thought the gap blocked my way, I turned to see a baton wielding riot cop right behind me and suddenly realized that with a t-shirt tied around my face I no longer looked like the humanitarian volunteer I am employed as, I looked like a target. My blood stream filling with adrenaline, I shoved the woman through to the other side and didn’t stop running.

A few blocks away in relative safety my friend and I were passed some vodka by rioters either amused or impressed at our presence. We learnt that the police had been overcome by the crowd and when we got back many of the fighters were brandishing the clubs and riot gear they’d acquired. The fires which had died down were again growing while footpaths were being torn apart into ammunition to be hurled in the direction of the police retreat and the MPRP building which police inside were trying to protect. Flags were pulled down from poles and brandished by protesters chanting for free and fair elections, democracy and fire. With all the smoke and remnants of tear gas it was difficult to see what was going on when the bulldozer from a construction site was hijacked, its front loader in a blaze people were climbing onto it and posing for pictures.

As the messages from my sponsoring organization began getting more urgent for all volunteers to get off the streets and rumors of the army’s imminent arrival grew we made our way into Sukbaatar Square not far from the action. As we retreated we started spotting the arrival of the Blue Mongols, the nationalist gang that brandishes swastikas and knew it was time to go. On the Square where Mongolians had gained their independence from the

Soviets only 18 years ago, rioters were trying to pry open a safe to burn the votes in it.

Was this all an excuse for gratuitous violence? The destruction spread to the nearby Cultural Palace where I’d watched a performance of Carmen only two days prior. Costumes and instruments were looted and destroyed, local merchants have suffered the same fate, and foreigners were attacked – what does any of that have to do with fair and free elections?

As many of the rioters claimed perhaps this symbolizes the real revolution against corruption and the communist party which continued to grip onto power long after the Russian tanks rolled out, maybe the Mongolians needed to fight for democracy after all. Mongolia is technically a transitional democracy and a young one at that, demonstrations are rare, yet even in countries where citizens are habituated to manifestations unwarranted violence is difficult to avoid. The MPRP represents socialist ideals as little as the Democratic Party represents democracy in Mongolia, and both parties have a long history of corruption. The protesters and rioters were marching for free and fair elections but the options seem bleak.

Taking a long route back home and climbing up the nine flights of stairs to my apartment from my window I could still see a pillar of smoke flares shooting up from the area we just retreated from. We flipped the news channels watching police beatings and bloody faces when the channels started tuning to static one by one. President Enkhbayar had declared a four day state of emergency; only government sanctioned news was available, alcohol sales banned and a curfew allowing police to arrest anyone outside between the hours of 10pm and 8am was put in place.

July 2^nd was eerily quiet in Ulaanbaatar; tanks were placed at major intersections, soldiers brandishing Kalashnikovs patrolled the streets and street cleaners piled shards of glass into bids. Rioters were locked away in jail cells or at home suffering from either alcohol or adrenaline hangovers. I was left wondering whether this was actually the start of a revolution, an adolescent tantrum or romantic idealism already swept under the rug.

Follow up

Ulaanbaatar was a strange place after the tanks rolled out and booze began to flow again. No one would initiate the conversation but it was on a lot of people’s minds: it is over? By July 23^rd the MPRP parliament was temporarily reinstated, there wasn’t a peep on Sukbaatar square in front of the parliament other than small vigils for the five riot young men that died that night.

The national celebration in Mongolia falls on July 11-13^th each year when the strongest and most skilled Mongolians compete in the three “manly sports”, archery, wrestling and horse racing. It is the biggest party of the year and despite the passion of the crowds on July 1^st, the lobby groups and party supporters were not willing to have a cancelled Naadam on their hands; so we waited, Naadam came and went but after the parties the apathy was ever enduring.

While some Democratic Party MPs boycotted the parliamentary sessions for some time, by the time Tuvshinbayar won Mongolia’s first gold medal in the Beijing Olympics in mid-August it was barely a shock to see the MPRP and DP leaders singing the national anthem together in a drunken embrace on national television (unfortunately was taken off youtube).

Just before leaving Mongolia in August 2008 I walked by the silent protest to release riot detainees on the square, a handful of people had gathered, mostly the mothers of the captured. Around this small group life continued as normal in Ulaanbaatar, for better or worse, July 1^st was a riot, not a revolution.

Goodbye Hutul

2008-06-22T22:03:00.000-07:00

Keeping up-to-date with my blog has been a particular challenge for me lately. Things haven’t been going that well for the past little while and in trying to maintain a positive blog I’ve ended up simply avoiding the internet!

I’ve been reluctant to write negative things up to now but for some reason with recent changes in events I more willing to share now. Working in Hutul for the past 3 months has been somewhere between difficult and non-existent. Because both of my counterparts were fulltime teachers it was almost impossible to get them to dedicate more than a couple of hours every week to working on their NGO’s. Over last couple of weeks since school tapered off I’ve had the opportunity to work with them a little more but finally confirmed that their objectives were not going to coincide with those of my placement organization’s – thus I was pulled out.

After laborious negotiations I’m finally employed again and will starting working at the program office in Ulaanbaatar this week to conduct an impact assessment for VSO. I’m excited about the job, I’ll get to meet with many different organizations and get new skills under my belt but I’m sad that it didn’t work out in Hutul for many reasons.

Although the reasons I was asked to work in Hutul and the ones that I was actually brought there for had nothing to do with each other I worked hard to develop relationships with my counterparts and learn to live in simple circumstances. In UB although there is a large network of volunteers and ex-pats in general it’s a smoggy, noisy, expensive (relatively) city – not where I was hoping to work when I signed up! Nonetheless, I’m excited about the prospect of learning a bit more than the value of patience and the luxury of the occasional kettle water bath in my time in Mongolia.

Mongolian Needle Torture

2008-05-28T02:02:00.000-07:00

For the past three weeks or so I've had an awful pain in my hip whenever I walk, I have an ankle problem which used to give me knee pain until I got that corrected earlier this year so I figured it had something to do with that.

The pain's been getting worse and worse so based on my organization’s protocols I started by seeing the UN doctor in Ulaanbaatar. Long story short she sent me to this acupuncturist / masseuse. As I got out of the stairwell onto the 3^rd floor of the building I was directed to, the smell of ointments and herbs was so overpowering that I almost turned around, but determined to give this new experience a try I persevered.

I was ushered into a barely curtained off area in the room where the smells where wafting from, I started with a painful massage given by a young woman who would occasionally go out of the room I was in and giggle with a male attendant while I lay there in my underwear. At one point I had my eyes closed trying not to spasm from her boney figures in my stomach when I suddenly heard her say "bano?" – she nonchalantly talked on her cell phone for at least 5 minutes while jabbing my organs.

Forty-five minutes later that was finally over and I was given acupuncture, mostly on my stomach and thigh. Still lying there in my underwear the attendant my masseuse torturer was giggling with continuously poked his head through my curtain while I sat there with 20 needles sticking out of me, it was difficult to access the professional reasoning behind this considering that he was not attending me in any apparent way.

Finally the needles came out and I’m under the impression that I can finally go and relax after this stressful experience when I'm told to flip over. I lay there with another 15 or so needles in my back and on my ass when all of a sudden I feel this plastic thing on my lower back that the acupuncturist starts pumping into some suction action over the needle – the final result was a semi crescent of fist sized hickies shaping my bum cheek for about a day and a half… and the same pain I started with!

I probably could have given it another chance but was happy to settle it with the expensive ex-pat doctor with a diagnosis of tendonitis and a bag of ibuprofen!

The Real Countryside

2008-05-17T02:52:00.001-07:00

Hutul is a soum (small town or village) which is considered to be the countryside in many respects, but in the 6 weeks I’ve been living here I’ve had a difficult time coming to terms with that. Yes, everyone knows everyone, almost as many horses as cars and I can walk the length of the area in under 10 minutes, but it doesn’t look like a “typical” countryside.

The town was constructed in the ‘70s by the Russians who built the cement factory here and anyone that came here came to work in the factory, the buildings are all perfectly identical 5 story Soviet style structures in groups of four with a playground in the middle of each. Beyond hills on three sides of the town are the “ger districts” where people live in traditional Mongolian gers or simple wooden houses. Being here had lowered my expectations of Mongolia as a beautiful country. There are beautiful places, but concrete doesn’t conjure up any nostalgia or inspiration.

Last weekend I went to Dulahan a small soum north of Darkhan closer to the Russian boarder. I loved it! The town itself didn’t have any buildings higher than a couple of stories and they were all different shapes and forms all mixed together in one area without any apparent segregation. The hills where higher and rockier than the dusty gray-brown ones surrounding Hutul and two rivers pass through Dulahan, recently unfrozen and flowing again.

We spent only one night there but a friend and I hiked for hours to the tallest hill. It was a strenuous hike but when we reached the top we were surrounded by cherry blossoms and sat on a rock for a long time taking in the beautiful view and the sweet smell. Mongolia is beautiful.

Staying Warm in May

2008-05-09T03:48:00.000-07:00

I think that Mongolia is in desperate need for restructuring its heating systems. The country runs on coal and apparently in the winter time the pollution in Ulaanbaatar is horrible turning the Eternal Blue Sky that Chinngis Khan once prayed to into eternal gray smog. When I got to the city in February it was cold but comparable to Montreal winters, what was ridiculous though was how I constantly had the windows open in my guess house because the heating system was set so high.

In Mongolia you either have heat or you don’t, and if you have it then it’s at the exact same temperature from October 1st until May 1st. In February I had the windows open, today a week into May, I’m sleeping in my thermals and under 4 blankets while it's snowing outside!

Thermostats people.

I asked around about this and it seems like using the current system – despite the complete waste of coal, is cheaper than installing a controlled system. I think this situation epitomizes the problem of environmental protection in developing (or transitional) countries.

Mnemonic Memories

2008-05-09T01:39:00.000-07:00

Living in Hutul without many English speakers around puts extra pressure on learning Mongolian and learning it quickly. I have a few friends here in town who I spend some time with, the way this plays out is usually them stuffing food down my throat while we teach other a few phrases in our respective languages with the help of a pile of dictionaries and language training books between us. Usually this amusing scene is successful in helping me interact and practicing the few phrases I know but my challenge lately has been in trying to remember the new vocabulary.

I’ve reviewed my notes from these meetings, I’ve tried rewriting words over and over again like some sort of punishment, I’ve even tried Sesame Street style “words of the day” which I would write on my hand and try to use in the day to drill them in my mind but nothing’s been sticking! Finally I decided to go back to what I know.

In my second year of university I enrolled into an elective “The History of Classic Greek Art and Archeology”. As a budding anthropology student I thought it would be interesting to see the physical archeological side of my discipline. I don’t remember why I didn’t drop out of that class but it tore at my soul. We would spend 3 hours looking at slides with 15 centuries worth of pottery, paintings, sculptures and architecture. We had tests every couple of weeks worth just a few percentage points but no matter how hard I would study those pictures the classical Greek names, dates, artists, materials and locations that matched them never connected and I kept bombing one exam after another.

As the semester went on I started freaking out, I’d never done so bad in a class and it only got worse after my final exam schedule came out, I had 5 finals consecutively squashed into 4 days and couldn’t spare the time to figure out the difference between Daedalic and Severe sculpture styles anymore. The night before I had to sit for that impending exam I finally pulled out my text book and stared at one clay pot after another trying to drill all the details into my exhausted mind, I was studying an archeological plan which had a long path going up to a main temple, I began picturing the beautiful goddess Hera walking up that path and imagined that there was water on either side of it, as she walked up that path salmon were jumping out of the water over the path to the other side, 6 on the left jumping over 5 on the right, Hera being a bit freaked out by these weird fishes runs into the temple for sanctuary – and that’s how I remembered that The Sanctuary of Hera dating back to 650BC was excavated in Samos.

I spent the entire night fantasizing ridiculous, often perverted, intricate stories and images. At the end of the three hour exam I looked up and found that I was one of the only people still there – not because I was struggling to remember but because I remembered so many details that I couldn’t stop writing!

Now when I have to remember the word for “question” an image of a menacing cartoon interrogation mark pops into my mind since the word for question асуулт sounds like “assault” and if I can’t remember I can say “мартах” because it rhymes with partaay and if you party too much it’s only natural to forget.

Hard at Work

2008-04-18T19:07:00.001-07:00

Darkhan one of the bigger towns in Mongolia and only a 40 minute drive from Hutul so I’ve been spending my week-ends here hanging out with the hub of VSO volunteers living in the city. It was interesting coming to Darkhan after my first week living in Hutul and talking to a colleague who was remarking on how quickly he ended up in a 9-5 routine in Darkhan. Not the case for me.

In Hutul I work for two organizations, my original mandate was to work for one headed by two women but upon arrival in Mongolia I found out that only weeks before my arrival the women had parted to create two NGOs so they could each head their own. My job description was already divided into two parts – building the capacity of the NGO it self as well as building the capacity of the national volunteers working for the NGO, the split meant that I would now be balancing those two initiatives between two organizations.

Both of my employers, N and D, are fulltime teachers and work in the mornings, so I don’t start work until 2pm the earliest. However, even then in the past couple of weeks I’ve only had a few days which could be considered an orientation to the work I’ll be doing. It’s difficult not to get wrapped up in that fact considering that I’m only here for another four and a half months with a lot of work to do but then I reflect on some of my best “meetings” these weeks such as getting invited to D’s home for dinner and discussing project ideas, or the discussion I had with N at lunch. They’re busy working mothers with great ideas but not a lot of time to invest in them but I’m hoping that we can get a momentum going soon.

Of course there’s still the question of what that momentum will look like. I was brought onto this project in the role of an advisor/capacity builder but it seems like other than a bit of fine tuning both the NGO’s are in need of fundraising more than anything, they have great ideas and know the community’s needs better than I ever could so there’s no point in me bringing in new project ideas, despite them asking for them, I think the best thing I can do is support what they already want to do, however without other NGOs, foreigner investors or organizations, or internet access to organizations to network with it will be interesting to see how I’ll manage that!

A 40 Minute Drive From Across the World in Cyberspace

2008-04-18T19:06:00.001-07:00

I’ve been living in Hutul for two weeks now where I am stationed to work for the next four and a half months. Things move slowly in this strange world which is great for catching up on reading but a bit frustrating in regards to work.

I came with little expectations as one in development work is trained to do, but out of the few I had one was that I would have an apartment on arrival as promised. Unfortunately that was not the case, the apartment promised to me ended up being rented to someone else so I was stuck in the one hotel in town to start with. The hotel is owned by the cement factory in town, one out of three factories that the town exists for, the other two being one that builds train sleeper cars and a flour mill. As the cement factory “hotel” the residences are mainly factory workers, that in itself isn’t a problem, the problem was that the Friday I took residence there marked the beginning of a Mongolian writer’s competition which came to town, this week-end long competition did not take the regular form of a literary focused gathering as I would imagine it, instead it was a round the clock drinking and brawling competition on the grounds of my residence. There was one shared bathroom with a door that would not lock and at least 4-5 drunken men in the hallway at all times of the day often fighting to the point that even my employer had difficulties in visiting me let alone me getting out of that room.

Two days into this I met an Australian woman who sometimes comes through Hutul to keep an eye on a café-project that she’s trying to start up here. In sympathy for my housing crisis she offered me the pantry in her café to live in; I was ready to say yes despite the ridiculousness of the entire situation when my employer met up with us to let me know that an apartment had been found!

I started with only a mattress (i.e. pile of blankets wrapped around a thicker blanket) on the floor and nothing else but in the past few weeks my employers and neighbours have come together to temporarily donate furnisher, the only major thing missing now is a fridge which is taking a bit longer to scavenge.

I think the playground scene outside my apartment epitomizes the clashing or combination of modern, nomadic and communist eras. In the middle of the Soviet style apartment blocks the playground has some monkey bars, a sand box and concrete blogs painted to represent animals for the kids, and for the adults there are three pool tables that get covered with tarp at night after a long day of use. It’s an interesting image, often I look out and I’ll see kids skipping rope beside groups of men drinking around a pool table, traditionally grabbed elders on the benches chatting, pigs and skinny dogs scavenging for rubbish and at least one horse tied up to the monkey bars or a lamp post.

I can’t say that I’ve made too many friends being the only foreigner in town and having a very limited vocabulary, but the time I’ve spent with my neighbours has been especially great. They dream of visiting Amerik one day and think talking to me is a great opportunity to learn English, so we often sit together in the evenings with all our language resources at hand and generally manage to communicate with a lot of patience. Not matter what the level of communication though everyone here is really friendly.

The one other person I’ve met who speaks a bit of English is a man heavily into the meditative teachings of the “Supreme Master”. He owns the one vegetarian restaurant in town (which I am oh so fortunate to have here) and has been trying to indoctrinate me in the SM teachings while emphasizing that it’s not a religion or a cult. I’m not convinced but won’t go into it, however if you’re curious check out www.suprememasterTV.com, yes, modern prophets have their own TV station’s and websites in this fast paced technological world of ours. Enjoy your path to enlightenment!

For the Animal Lovers

2008-04-03T20:06:00.000-07:00

Before leaving for Mongolia I had to get 3 rabies shots at a price of $250 each, I love VSO for covering those costs. Ulaanbaatar is strife with stray dogs and the countryside is supposed to be even worse. Average or not, being a westerner I am terrified of being alone with one of these mongrels, on Tuesday afternoon I gained some confidence in the way I would deal with such a situation, and for a moment, relief that $750 will keep me from foaming at the mouth.

My journey beings with an invitation to Mongolica, a cheap good Mongolian restaurant with, lo and behold, vegetarian options! When I accepted the invitation the night before I evidently wasn’t paying too much attention its whereabouts. I soon learnt that it was a 30 minute bus ride westward from where I’m staying in the city center. I’ve been on two buses in UB so far and neither of them merited the horror stories I’d been told. On Tuesday I took my first bus alone. It was 6pm and I was scheduled to meet my friends at a roundabout called Sapporo at 6:30pm. I let 3 buses pass, all packed like sardines before finally sharpening my elbows and shoving onto one. The conductor fascinatingly found a way to get to me and the other new arrivals for the fare but I was trapped on the steps of the doorway with no where to go and more people getting on behind me at every stop. Finally after about 10 minutes I made it up the stairs where I got stuck in the middle of the bus with enough room for only one of my feet to stay on the ground, unable to grab onto anything, with one arm sticking straight up in the air, and a little girl about 4 years old clutching onto me for dear life. I’m still finding bruises from the ride!

I was a bit concerned about missing my stop since I couldn’t see out the dirty windows but being in such close quarters with everyone I managed to make some friends, especially with the two other people forming a circle around the little girl with me. I didn’t know how to ask “how far is Sapporo” in Mongolian so the best I could do it keep asking “энэ Sapporo уу?” which means “is Sapporo here?” every five minutes. It worked! I saw the landmark and it was time to get off, I even saw my friends outside the bus looking out for me… I finally dragged myself off the bus 4 stops later and a 15 minute walk away. I felt like I lost 20 pounds in sweat and couldn’t stop exclaiming these loud “ahhs” and “whews” for a little while, people must have thought I was insane!

However, the journey didn’t end there. Walking down this street feeling like the lightest, freest person in the world, I noticed a lot of stray dogs on the street. One dog coming up was staring me down and inching forward towards me, and although there were lots of people on the street I thought it prudent to remember what my Mongolian Security Briefing had specified about dealing with stray dogs, so I bent down and picked up a rock. Success- knowing the possibility of what could come the dog turned around and scuttled away! I walked for about 10 more seconds feeling very proud of myself when all of a sudden I felt something bite my calf! I turned around half expecting something to jump up and mangle me (don’t worry ma, that doesn’t happen), when this Mongolian guy jumps up and starts laughing! A good way to get my attention to say the least.

I felt much better once I was sitting at Mongolica at 7:30pm with my veggie dumplings, a telling of my story and a rock in my pocket.

“Stop Acting Like the Spring Sky”

2008-03-28T22:46:00.000-07:00

It’s spring time in Mongolia, after a long winter Montrealers celebrate the coming of summer. In Mongolia spring brings sand storms, cold winds and “changeable” weather ranging from +20C to -20C in a matter of hours. I went to Terelj National Park today when I left in was sunny and hot, then it was freezing, and then it was beautiful again, now it’s snowing! My language teacher told me that if someone’s moody you can say that they are acting like the spring sky, I get it now.

Terelj Park is not far from Ulaanbaatar. A few of us volunteers went up for the day where we saw some domesticated camels, they’ve got the furry two humped variety here, we checked out Gϋnjiin Sϋm, a Buddhist monastery used as a meditation center by monks, and a famous rock formation called Turtle Rock. The view of the park from the top was beautiful, if anyone out there is inspired to meditate with some Mongolian Buddhist monks this seems like a good spot to do so!

Most monasteries were destroyed by the Russian’s during the soviet “influence”. Gϋnjiin Sϋm once walled six temples and a tower, for some reason the Russian’s didn’t destroy the main temple but everything else was demolished. Some of the few monasteries which survived Mongolia’s communist days are supposed to be magnificent and I’m excited to check them out. There’s your Mongolian cultural lesson for the day!

Exploring UB

2008-03-27T02:37:00.000-07:00

The last week in Ulaanbaatar has been a combination of work related meeting and workshops, language classes, socializing with other volunteers and exploring Ulaanbaatar.

Last weekend started with a fashion show put on by the Foundation for Wool & Cashmere Development NGO which a couple of VSO volunteers are involved with. The clothes where modern, innovative designs that I’m sure I could only wish to afford! I’ve been trying to get my hands on some wool yarn to knit with but thus far everyone’s been telling me that it’s impossible unless you’re a mass manufacturer, I am determined to prevail though!

On Saturday I ended up at the Museum of Natural History. Dinosaur fossils have been excavated from several areas in the Gobi Desert for decades. There was a 3m tall 5 ton flesh-eating tarbosaurus, and the “world famous fighting dinosaurs” – a velociraptor with it’s teeth buried into a protocerotops buried alive when a sand dune collapsed on them 80 million years ago forever preserving the attack!

Sunday I walked just south of Ulaanbaatar with a few other volunteers and laboriously climbed a big hill on the top of which were some ovoos. Ovoos are big piles of rocks found on the top of mountains where Buddhists come to make offerings to spirits. In accordance to the tradition I walked around the ovoos clockwise three times, tossed an offering (another rock) and made a wish. We walked along the ridge of the hills for a bit sucking in the view of the steppe on one side and smoggy UB on the other and then walked through a forest on the other side to get down.

That night I went to Иx Монгол, a bar where I saw an awesome local band which uses traditional Mongolian instruments and throat singing to perform wicked rock-ska-punk music. Their CD is supposed to be available for about $5.50 – if anyone’s interested email me!

On Tuesday a few of us caught the North Korean Circus’ last performance which was spectacular. The balancing acts and trapeze show were unlike anything I’ve even seen and with my stomach in my mouth I really felt that the performers were truly risking their lives to entertain me at times!

Those are my adventures as of yet, I’m in Ulaanbaatar for another 8 days with lots of plans so hopefully many more to come!

A Bit of Background

2008-03-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

I’ve been living in Ulaanbaatar (UB) for one week now. It feels like a small lifetime that’s gone by in the wink of an eye. It’s an interesting place, only 18 years ago Mongolia was still a communist country under Soviet influence (if not rule) so it’s still very much under a transitional system working towards democracy and free markets.

Russian was the second language for decades so most people are bilingual, but English has recently emerged as the sought after language to learn. Yesterday at Bridge School International where I’ve been studying Mongolian a small graduation ceremony took place for a group of Mongolian students who’d invested their last four years in studying English, something you would have never found 20 years ago.

On the surface UB looks like any other developing world capital city I’ve been to. It’s polluted, there’s a rich core with museums, expensive boutiques, and government buildings surrounded by slums (in this case made up of gers – round traditionally nomadic felt houses); traffic clogs the streets, MTV plays on televisions in bars, stray dogs roam around, and street children (who live in the sewers here) know how to ask for money in English.

It’s a strange feeling, it’s apparent that I’m in a developing country but I have all the amenities available to me at home, I definitely know that I have yet to see “Mongolia”.

On April 3rd I’m off to the countryside to start work. I’m going to be staying in Hutul, a town of about 10,000 about 3.5 hours North from UB. I’m going to be working with an organization which focuses on empowering local women in the realms of education, secured livelihood and health awareness. The organization works with the help of several local volunteers and my job is going to be to build the capacities of these volunteers and the projects themselves. I’m being cautiously vague since my job description is not much more detailed and I doubt I’ll really understand and negotiate my role before spending at least a few weeks with the NGO.

One thing that I can say for sure is whatever it’s like it will be decisively Mongolian!

12 Hour Time Difference

2008-03-19T01:38:00.000-07:00

I have never in my life considered myself a morning person. Nonetheless it’s 5:23am and I’ve already had breakfast, helped an ex-housemate move tons of luggage down 5 flights, and watched an episode of Family Guy. I manage to stay up as late as possible but haven’t been able to get more than 3-4 hours of broken sleep in the past 3 nights, today I go on the hunt for sleeping pills.

Today is also my first day of Mongolian language school, I should probably school be practicing the Cyrillic alphabet right now… I’m going to have a few weeks of language training here in Ulaanbaatar, the capital city where I presume to learn the basics and then move on to my placement in Hutul where I’ll have no choice but to pickup the vocabulary or be left stranded. Despite the pressure, I’m really excited to learn Mongolian.

In the next week I’m hoping that what I’m doing here will be revealed, I started getting more clues yesterday when I met staff and the VSO Program office here in UB. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a weird reality TV show with a TWIST, like one of those shows where you think you’re there for one reason and then DUN-DUN-DUHNNNN they’ve got video footage of that thing you did and you’re face-to-face with your mom, your 3rd grade school teacher and Jerry Springer having to explain why you didn’t just stop after the margarine ran out – and it’s like OH SNAP!

That’s not really how I feel but lack of sleep gets interesting after a while.