Who needs workout videos?

I’ve discovered a new form of exercise that incorporates both weight lifting and aerobic exercise. It’s called “attempting to get air out of the radiator by draining water from it” and it lets you feel like you are actually doing something important as you work out. There are ten bars on the radiator in my bedroom, and the bottom 2/3rds of five of them have gone cold. A student told me that if I drained out several bucket fulls of water (or is it buckets full?) that the problem would be solved because the air that is stuck in there would be released. If only! So, three days in a row I tried this. The beauty of it is that I’m always warm afterwards, and my bedroom ends up about one degree warmer for the next hour. Plus, running a relay with yourself, hauling buckets of water to the bathroom to dump out builds both arm muscle and endurance. They are supposed to send a repairman today, who hopefully will fix the problem once and for all, but I’ve taken such a liking to my new exercise that I may just keep doing it…

Three things learned at Thanksgiving:

1. There are cows with windows (or portholes, if you prefer) in their sides. Really. The rumor is that they are for veterinary students—not only can they see the insides of the cow, but they can also reach in a touch them. Just imagine if they did the same thing for medical students!



2. “Women are the downfall of men,” stated one of our adolescent friends who was out for the weekend. By way of further clarifying the issue, he added, “Seriously!” So young, and already he’s got it all figured out.

3. Is it tryptophan or tryptopan? When you gather people for Thanksgiving that come from different families, backgrounds, and parts of the country, you are bound to have this discussion. We formed a truce by renaming it: Tryptofizzle (or tryptophizzle, if you prefer). It’s kind of catchy, and it describes exactly what you do after eating turkey—fizzle out and take a nap. (For those of you who really want to know—it’s tryptophan)

Happy Thanksgiving

I decided that Thanksgiving was the perfect time to start posting again, and since Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday (those of you needing a little practice with “th” pronunciation and those of you who can never remember when Thanksgiving really is, repeat after me: Thanksgiving is always on the fourth Thursday of the eleventh month.) I thought a Thursday Thirteen would also be appropriate. So here you go—Thirteen things that I’m thankful for here in Mongolia…
1. Snow on Monday and Wednesday this week, but not Tuesday. If it had snowed Tuesday I wouldn’t have been able to fly home from the aimag where I’d been teaching a seminar. This way I get the beauty of the snow without the messed up travel plans.
2. I’m thankful that I just had the opportunity to visit my friends and students in the town I used to live in.
3. My apartment, in spite of the over abundance of carpets (more than seven in the living room alone—on the walls, on the furniture, on the floor…) and despite the fact that the only thing coming out of the taps this time of year is liquid ice…which brings me to point number three.
4. I’m thankful for boil-coils and for hot water in the radiators. For those of you residing in countries and cities with hot tap water, I’d better acquaint you with boil-coils. They look like this and are basically an exposed heating coil. Not only do they heat your bath water to an acceptable temperature, but they also can give you an adrenaline rush as you flirt with electrocution (should you forget to unplug it before testing the water temperature).
5. The jar of peanut butter in my fridge and the Girl Scout cookies on my table. Yum! Plus, one can justify eating lots of foods like this in the winter in the name of “keeping warm”!
6. Layers of clothing and my cozy down coat… Even though the layers and coat make me feel decidedly unglamorous, they do keep me comfortably warm.
7. As much as I dislike the cold and the winter, I’m thankful for it because it makes things like spotting the first green blade of grass in May so very exciting.
8. I know I’ve talked about scotch tape before, but I just want to say again how much I use it! It works as an art supply, it works for fixing things, it works for putting up stuff in the classroom, it works for taping things to students foreheads, it works for picking up cat fur off the carpet… Yes, I am thankful for the abundance and cheapness of scotch in this country.
9. Students who are eager to learn are another thing I’m thankful for. I’ve had classes with people who didn’t really want to be there, and so I know how special it is that my students this year want to learn and are eager to participate.
10. Teammates and co-workers who have welcomed me and accepted me here in my new town. Not only that, but they like to have fun and can be silly. Case in point: the “occasion elephants”.
These lovely candle holders were given to two of my coworkers as gifts last year…and now we make sure that they show up at all of our special team occasions. Isn’t tradition great?
11. A playmate for Tom my cat: For five years, Tom was only ever in contact with people, and as a result developed a rather skewed view of himself. Here in our new place, he has two cats in close proximity that he can hang out with. He pretends that he hates playing with others, but then I see him get a gleam in his eye as he eggs his fellow felines on.
12. Good nights of sleep—with my down comforter. Self-explanatory.
13. Fun Thanksgiving celebrations with students, that of course includes the Thanksgiving tradition of gift giving. Our festivities were complete with the reading of Thanksgiving essays, a play, and lots and lots of yummy food.
13.5 Mongolian potato salad. Yum! (available in abundant quantities at the festivities mentioned in point 13.)

Leaving, on a jet plane...Part 2a

It's pretty much like Cherry said--they switched the time on us...so I won't bore you with all the details.

No, actually, I had written this post but wanted to save it and edit it and so, like an idiot, instead of hitting the Save as Draft button, I somehow exited without saving it and I just haven't felt like rewriting it yet. Sorry!

In other news, my charming and adorable nephew can now say "iguana" and "camel" and he knows the Mongolian word for mushroom. How's that for a 19 month old?

Leaving, on a jet plane...Part 1

Flying from point A to point B within Mongolia...

Procuring tickets and confirming flight times:

It all begins a couple weeks before leaving town when Danielle and I went to purchase our plane tickets, only to realize after walking across town that we didn't have our passports or even our worker cards, which are the necessary ID for foreigners to purchase plane tickets. I was working on finalizing my students' grades at that point so didn't have time to make another trip to the AeroMongolia office, which meant that Danielle had to go a second time alone. When Danielle went back they sold her the tickets but said we should check back with them to find out what time the plane would be flying (since they like to switch flight times around on a regular basis). The day before we were to leave, I stopped by the AeroMongolia office to ask about the time and they told me, "The plane will arrive here at 8am." So, knowing how often people are confused about flight times, I asked a couple follow-up questions to verify that I'd been told the right time. "What time will it be leaving UB?" "It will depart from UB at 7am." (Check) "What time will it leave from here?" "It should leave around 8:20am." (Check, check) "What time should I get to the airport?" "You should arrive at the airport at 6:30am." (Why anyone would go to the airport before the plane had actually departed from UB, I'm not sure...but they still like to tell us to get to the airport 2 hours early.) So, having asked about the time, and having had the answers to my follow up questions confirm the time they'd told me, I went home and told Danielle that the plane would fly around 8:20am and we set about finding a ride. Our former director and current coworker came over to take some pictures with us and they decided that they'd take us to the airport in the morning at 7am.

Traveling...

Some of you are awaiting eagerly the story of my rather insane exit from the countryside and, unfortunately, you'll just have to wait a little longer. Tonight I head to the States for a summer of family, Disneyland, and Danielle's wedding. Yesterday was my birthday (Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday Mongol Mama, happy birthday to me) and my family called (of course while I was out and about in UB which gave the general public some entertainment, I guess) and my friend Heather cooked me some yummy Mexican food, so all in all, it was a good birthday. The past week, I've been running around UB trying to get stuff done so I haven't had time to sit down and write the whole crazy exit story--I promise I'll post it at some point!

Sain suuj baigaarai!

Khuushuur-muushuur

One question that I get asked a lot by both Americans in the States, and by Mongolians, is about what I eat in Mongolia. Inevitably this is followed by, “Can you cook Mongolian food?” If you say yes, and then your Mongolian friends may ask you to help them cook some buuz or huushuur, or other such meat and dough dish, at which point, they’ll realize that you cook at about the level of a Mongolian seven year-old (because you lack the dough rolling and pinching skills that people here seem to be born with). Case in point: Phil’s Mongolia-shaped huushuur— which, although it looks nothing like a Mongolian’s huushuur, is great for teaching geography.(Key cities have been labled for your benefit.)


If you say no, that you can’t make Mongolian food, you cause your Mongolian friends to worry because they are likely to think that if you can’t make Mongolian food, you obviously can’t cook, which means that you must be starving! I’ve had to reassure many people that I can indeed cook noodles and soup and meat.

Anyone have dust allergies?

Just another Mongol morning...like none that I've ever seen before. Keep in mind that it is usually completely light here this time of year well before 6am.

8:30am

8:45am

9:00am

9:30am

The flying dust eased off but did continue until about 5:00pm.

Scotching

Well, the Scotching Fiends (see the original post about the Scotching Fiends ) have been at it again—scotching things, that is. Since we are moving (or rather, I’m moving within Mongolia, Danielle is moving to another continent) we spent the better part of the week packing boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff—mostly books. Boxes, as we all know (in Mongolia, anyway) require lots of scotch—in this case, 35 rolls. (Re)discovery of the week: you can get scotch cuts, like paper cuts.

Stay tuned for more from our last week here, also known as “Two Spoons, Two Mugs, and One Annoying Phone” (because nearly all our other possessions were sent to UB this morning) or “Sculpting with Empty Scotch Rolls” (our entertainment for the week)

Shoots & Leaves

I interrupt this blog post hiatus (resulting from grading, packing, and moving, among other things) to inform you that I saw the first leaves of spring today. Hooray! I saw the first shoots of grass a couple weeks ago (and accidentally startled Danielle quite badly because I was so excited) but today I saw the first honest-to-goodness leaves! This means that by the middle of the week all the trees around town should be a lovely, fresh, spring green. Yes, the end of the brown and grey season has arrived and it's so exciting!

As Mongolian transportation is one of my favorite topics, I have no idea how I could have gone this long without writing about it...

In UB you have lots of cars, buses, micros (minivans that function as buses of sorts), and your own two feet. In “cities” in the countryside you might see buses, but you are much more likely to find micros, cars, 69’s (aka jariin yuce--cozy yet indestructible Russian jeeps with minimal shocks that can be fixed with anything—and result in a ride not unlike a cross between the Indiana Jones Ride and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland—minus seatbelts and with bucketfuls of dust tossed in), Russian vans, horse or camel carts, and, of course, your own two feet. A couple years ago you would have seen lots of motorcycles and sidecars, but, at least where I am, they have become few and far between.

The goal of all of these forms of transportation (with the exception of feet and animal carts) is to pack in as many people as possible, which is ironic considering that Mongolia is one of the least densely populated countries in the world. Personally, I haven’t done too much busing or taking of micros (although I was once in a micro with 23 people), but my 69 record is 16 people for a four-hour ride. Ouch! So, all you people who have been to Mongolia and experienced these forms of transport, what are your records?

You'll all be happy to hear that "comments" are functioning again. Sorry for the delay!

Old Favorites

It’s snowing again and the grey weather is interfering with my ability to write, so I thought we could do a look back at some of my earlier posts.

You might be in Mongolia if…1-10: and 11-20: Self-explanatory.

Scotch: Not the drink. The tape. It even includes a song!

I’m Not Russian: Living here I often get mistaken for a Russian—which wouldn’t be so bad if I actually spoke Russian!

Concerning an Outhouse and a Pig: A traumatic event—but I survived so at least you know there is a happy ending.

Mr. Dogs & Me: Brushing shoulders with the Mongolian stars—or, rather, dancing foolishly in front of them.

The Rules of Hello

You live here long enough and the constant hellos of little children, teenagers, and the occasional random adult cease to be cute and, to be perfectly honest, become a source of annoyance. That’s rather harsh, you are thinking to yourself, they only are saying hello… aren’t you glad to hear an English word every once in a while? Yes, they are only saying hello, but you begin to feel as though you’ve got a flashing sign above your head that says, “I’m foreign, talk to me.” Since, there seem to be a lot of misconceptions about proper helloing etiquette, and since, if we responded to every hello uttered in our general direction, that is what we’d spend all day, every day, doing, Danielle (my trusty roommate) and I have come up with some rules:

1. Hellos screamed at the top of ones lungs, especially those hellos that sound angry, will not be responded to—particularly if they are screamed from a balcony.
2. Hellos said after we have already walked past (in other words, those hellos that are said to our backs) will not be responded to.
3. If every child in a group says hello, they will only receive one collective hello in response. Individual hellos in response are not necessary.
4. Hellos said while making fun of us (in Mongolian, which we happen to understand) will be ignored.
5. Polite hellos, especially from cute kids will gladly be responded to with a smile and a hello.
6. Hellos in foreign languages, particularly Russian, German, and Chinese, will be responded to at our discretion.

Note: we did consider broadcasting these guidelines on local TV, but decided not to since we’ll both be moving soon–Danielle to the states, and me to another part of Mongolia.

Danielle and I are bingeing again—this time on Scrabble, which we both consider to be a much more profitable thing than say, “Lost” or “CSI” or any of our previous binges… I’ve found, after five years of living in Mongolia, that my vocabulary just isn’t what it used to be—either because I’m used to limiting my vocabulary to make myself more easily understood by English learners, or because certain Mongolian words have crept in and are trying to displace their English “counterparts”—and this is not a good thing my age. We’ve toyed with making “A Scrabble game a day keeps senility at bay” our slogan, but decided that at this point in life, senility and loss of vocabulary are two very different things. At any rate, Scrabble is indeed working its magic as I am finding words like “gist” and “orb” rolling off my tongue. Granted (Mom and Ben), these aren’t high scoring words, but they can prove useful!

I am afraid, however, that the makers of the “Scrabble Dictionary” are biased against Mongolian vocabulary. Why are words like “kumiss” (fermented camel or horse milk—-incidentally there are five accepted Scrabble spellings for this: koumis, koumiss, koumys, koumyss, kumiss) and “yurt” (the Russian name for a Mongolian felt tent) permissible yet “ger” (the Mongolian name for Mongolian felt tents) and “airag” (fermented horse milk) aren’t? It’s rather unfair, if you think about it. Speaking of unfair…Tom thinks it quite rude that Danielle and I don’t permit him to join in the fun, as a result, he occasionally tries to eat the letter tiles.

Spring

It is “spring” here in Mongolia—the season of constantly changing weather and inexplicably tired people. Case in point: today started off beautifully with warm temperatures, little wind, and bright sunshine streaming through my window at 6 AM. By 10:17 it was snowing—yet still so warm that I went out on our balcony barefoot and in short-sleeves and wasn’t cold. Within 20 minutes the only remaining snow was in the shadows of buildings




At 11:35 it started snowing again and it was coming down harder and the wind was colder.






By 1:02 PM, when the last picture was taken, the snow was gone and the sun was back. The afternoon then rounded itself out with two or three dust storms (separated by beautiful periods of light breezes and sun), and a bitingly cold north wind. I’m curious to see what tomorrow will bring.

Ice

The ice on my window has already melted this morning...but I thought I'd post some pics I took a couple months ago.

Making Spaghetti

I discovered that I could make spaghetti when I was in college, so it was ironic that today, while I was making spaghetti, Danielle told me I looked like a college girl. Perhaps it was the super high ponytail (necessitated by an unfortunate overly layered haircut) Or perhaps it was the Wheaton sweatshirt (necessitated by my notoriously messy spaghetti making. I actually got the sweatshirt right here in Mongolia from another Wheaton grad.) Who knows…

Anyway, as I was cooking the aforementioned spaghetti, while apparently looking like a college student (yes, I think I’ve finally hit the age where I take that as a compliment) I was thinking about how many places my ingredients came from. Tomato paste from Italy, oil and bay leaves from Russia, Garlic from China, Onions from Mongolia, the ground meat (horse, because it is the cheapest, that we ground ourselves) from right here in our province. Other seasonings had to be brought from UB, Thailand, China, and the States. The pasta we’ll eat with the sauce came from Italy but was originally meant to be sold in Japan (all the ingredients and instructions on the back are in Japanese and not the usual four or five other languages). What’s in your spaghetti?

Narnia

While in Thailand I was able to see the new Narnia movie in the theater. (It’s always great fun to go to movies in Thailand—not only are they cheap, but before the start of the movie everyone in the theater must stand as a video tribute to the king is played. This fascinates me.) Anyway, Narnia… I have read this book many, many times in the last four years because it is part of the curriculum I teach. I enjoy the story very much, but unfortunately I know it too well to be able to appreciate the movie. Instead I got a bit hung up on the changes…I realize that they have to cut things out to make it fit in a two-hour time frame—cutting makes sense to me—but adding extra things is always a bit weird in my opinion.

My two main questions: Why did they have to add to, alter, and embellish the children and beavers’ flight from the witch and wolves? And what was up with the near drowning of the kids?

And now, a free language lesson: C. S. Lewis is said to have gotten the name Aslan from the Turkish word for lion. Apparently he came across it while reading Arabian Nights… Anyway, the word for lion in Kazakh is also Aslan, and the word in Mongolian is Arslan. In both Mongolia and Kazakhstan this is a perfectly acceptable name for a guy.

A Random Assortment...

Olympics: There was actually a Mongolian news crew present at the 2006 Olympics in Italy. In fact, there were probably more Mongolians present there to report on the events rather than participate in the sports. This time around the Mongolian athletes didn’t do so well (in the biathlon, I think, or maybe it was cross-country skiing), but we’ll be back in ’08 with some excellent wrestlers, I’m sure! Back to the news crew… It was really fun to see them interview athletes in both Russian and English (of course it was then loosely dubbed over in Mongolian). I particularly enjoyed the commentary about various athletes because it gave me lots of practice with numbers—height, weight, birthday, etc.

Olympics (academic): Not a big fan. I may or may not delve more into this topic at a later date. At present I need to finish writing a test for the (secondary school) English Olympics, which will be held this coming week in my town.

Nephews: Maybe I’m biased, but I really think that my nephew is actually getting cuter as he ages—and he was a cute baby to start with! I cannot wait to hang out with the monkey this summer.


Milk: I find it strange that in the land of meat and dairy products I had to go to seven stores today before I found milk. Seven!

Lights and Leakage: I finally replaced light bulbs and put the light fixtures in our bathroom back in place today. New year’s morning we’d woken up to find water dripping out of the light fixtures that are in the drop ceiling in our bathroom. This time it wasn’t even the result of the people upstairs flooding their bathroom—rather it was due to warm weather and melting snow. On January first. In Mongolia. (Have I mentioned that the weather has been strange this year?) Unfortunately, the people who live below us are also having light fixture issues. It seems to be a yearly occurrence that while we are in Thailand, our apartment will have some plumbing issue and will flood the apartment below us. Last year our kitchen sink decided to back up and over flow—even though it hadn’t been used in a month. This year a pipe in our bathroom decided to develop a hole and become a geyser. Needless to say, the people downstairs don’t like us much—even though none of the water leakage has actually been our fault.

You might be in Mongolia if...11-20

(1-10 can be found in a previous post)

11. You associate the word “Olympics” with academic test giving.
12. You think bell peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes are exotic vegetables. (And just in case anyone out there is feeling persnickety—I am well aware that the tomato is technically a fruit.)
13. You know that the difference between “beefshteak” and “cutlet” is the presence or absence of a fried egg on top.
14. Spring is now your least favorite season.
15. You had a choice of watching the 2006 Olympics in Russian, Chinese, or Mongolian.
16. You are well acquainted with the “Numa Numa” song. (Of course, I’ve heard that it was #1 in 27 other countries, too…I think it is actually by a Romanian group.)
17. You can buy music in the food section of your market—perhaps even from the same counter that sells “sausage”.
18. All big events in your town take place at the Wrestling Palace… Or, for that matter, if your town even has a Wrestling Palace.
19. You don’t live in Japan yet, on a regular basis, you can watch sumo wrestling on TV.
20. When reading and writing in English you mix g’s and d’s, p’s and r’s, y’s and u’s, H’s and n’s, B’s and v’s.

Sorry for the lack of posts... I was in Thailand thawing out.

The view from my window

This winter has been a strange one—warmer than usual and much less snow—but the ice on the windows is still present. It is a strange feeling to know that you are on the fourth floor, yet not be able to see out the window. It is disappointing not to be able to watch people, camels, and horse carts from the windows, but it is neat to see the variety of patterns the ice creates. This picture was taken during sunrise--which, since it occurs after 8:00am would be something I'd see quite often if it weren't for the ice.

I'll never be the same...

Mongolia has irrevocably changed my fashion tastes. It’s not just me though--I’ve noticed this occurring in my foreign friends too.

Case in point: Three of us were shopping at a large indoor market in UB (Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia) the other day. The item that all three of us were eyeing was, sadly enough, a fake fur/knit vest. It had a zipper up the front, black and grey faux fur, a purple knit waist band, and a band of fur below that. It was spectacular! (We restrained ourselves though, after concluding that it wasn't worth the price the saleswoman was asking.)

Other items that are now “eye-catching” to us were high-heeled boots, boots with fur trim, clothes with sequins, and leather coats.