Inner and Outer...the perpetually confusing aspect of Mongolia

To properly address this item, we must delve into a little history.

A long time ago, the Mongolian tribes were united by a great and fearless leader named Chingis Khaan (KH is actually a hard H sound--not a K sound). If you've never heard of him, it's because we were taught to call him Genghis Khan, much to the dismay of the Mongolians. Chingis Khaan and his descendants managed to conquer the land from China to Europe. At that time there was focus on the exchange of goods, culture, and religion in the Empire's capital. Eventually, this empire began to loose its power and most of the conquered peoples were able to live independently once again. After a couple hundred years China gained control of what was left of Mongolia. Fast forward 200-300 years. Some Mongolians, tired of being under the Chinese, approach Russians for assistance. In 1911 Mongolia fought against the Chinese and gained some independence. However, not all of Mongolia was given autonomy and thus it was divided into Inner and Outer Mongolia. Inner Mongolia is still a part of China, Outer Mongolia, usually referred to simply as Mongolia, is its own country. I work in the country of Mongolia.

Because I don't have a map with me, the "hand illustration" will have to suffice.

Warning: semi-graphic content do not read if you love horses!

Horse intestines have a variety of textures--chewy, squishy, tough, tender...it all depends upon what part of the intestine you are eating and how it was prepared. The flavor is a little gamey but not bad

As for the white blood sausage...I was so puzzled when my student told me what they were that I asked her repeatedly to explain how they were made. What she told me is that when left for a certain amount of time, horse blood separates: red and white. The white portion is then put into a cleaned out portion of the intestines and boiled or steamed (I'm unsure which she meant). It has a smooth, gelatinous texture and a mild flavor. The most difficult thing about eating WB sausage is the fact that it is what it is.

Eating unusual foods is part of life when you live in a foreign country. At home I can cook what I want (provided I can come up with the ingredients) when I go to someone's home I need to eat what they serve me or risk offending them.

I haven't come across any desserts here that are genuinely Mongolian, however they have adopted some things from other countries. There is now an abundance of hard candy in Mongolia, and people here will often serve store-bought cakes (perhaps brought from the capital or Russia a week before) for special occasions. I am dreaming of the day that someone learns to make a moist chocolate cake with good frosting. In the meantime, cake, for me, is something that nightmares are made of.

Proposals & Marriage

Someone asked me if I ever was proposed to, and the answer is yes...in ninth grade, but I'm guessing that the intention of the asker was to know if anyone ever proposed to me in Mongolia, to which my answer is no. However...by Mongolian standards I'm getting a little old to not be married or at least have a kid or two; as a result I often get scolded by coworkers and taxi drivers alike. This is a subject that people in Mongolia feel very free to comment on. I've been told by a taxi driver that I should have Mongolian children (why this was so important, I'm not sure); I've had people tell me that I should marry a Mongolian so that my language skills would improve (since we all know that is the only reason people get married); One individual, who takes great delight in asking me if I've gotten married yet, likes to tell me that I should get married because I need someone to fix things in my apartment. The list goes on... What I've tried explaining is that people from the USA tend to get married later in life than Mongolians; what I lack the Mongolian vocabulary to explain is that I'd rather be single than be married to the wrong person, and getting married just for the sake of being married is lame.

A Public Service Announcement

I have the cutest, sweetest nephew in the whole entire world. Like a good auntie, I firmly believe in cornering innocent bystanders and showing them pictures of the kid. It seems that after a mere eight months of Tommy's life, I have more pictures of him than of my whole childhood; now the only questions is how to get all those pictures back to Mongolia while keeping my suitcases within the airline weight limits. Perhaps I should forgo some of the extra clothing items I was planning on taking. Who really needs long underwear in -30 degree weather, anyway?

And now, a few words to the kid: Thomas, you are sweet and fun and cuddly and adorable. Just because Auntie is going away for a while doesn't mean she doesn't love you. True, I will miss your first steps, your first words, and your first birthday, but I made it for your first Christmas and your first teeth; I was your first evening babysitter--your parents went to a Giants game for your Daddy's birthday. Even though I don't get to see you most of the year, in the summer I get to spend lots of time with you! Plus, I give you bragging rights--how many other kids will be able to say that they know where Mongolia is, much less that they have an aunt who lives there. Monkey, I love you so much--don't you ever forget it!