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.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mongolian Needle Torture
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
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!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
The Real Countryside
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
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.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Staying Warm in May
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.
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
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.
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.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Hard at Work
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!
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
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!
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!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
For the Animal Lovers
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.
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.
Friday, March 28, 2008
“Stop Acting Like the Spring Sky”
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!
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!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Exploring UB
The last week in
On Saturday I ended up at the
Sunday I walked just south of
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
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Bit of Background
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
12 Hour Time Difference
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.
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.
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