I'm here!

From DFW to LAX to PEK to ULN, I arrived on time (for once) in Ulaanbaatar Monday morning. Twenty-two hours of flight time and a red-eye from Los Angeles to Beijing meant the jet-lag crept up on me halfway into our program’s first academic lecture on Sino-Mongolian relations, but I’ve managed to adjust to the 12 hour time difference pretty quickly. The LAX-PEK flight was twelve and some hours. A few rounds of single serving Air Chinese, half of a This American Life podcast, and nine hours of sleep made the flight go by quickly. I was lucky enough to have an empty seat next to me, which made for a relatively comfortable economy ride. I met Sam, Kara and Britt, three of my five peers, in Beijing at the boarding gate for ULN. We cracked the ice over some tea and edimame one of the terminal’s cafes then scurried off to catch our last leg.

The descent into ULN was surreal. The juxtaposition of gers (yurts), energy stacks, open fields and city bustle was like nothing I’ve ever seen. When we first touched down I saw the airport’s terminal with the city’s skyline in the background and by the time the plane had pulled its brakes there was nothing but open land. One of our program directors picked us up and drove us to the Anuujin Hotel where we’ll be staying for our orientation week. Driving through the exit gates at the airport a herd of goats and several horses crossed in front of our black land rover escort, which I quickly became desensitized to. The whole drive into UB was a bizarre juxtaposition of rural and urban landscapes. In America, the two are separated by a fence or a distinguished border. In the countryside and the outskirts of UB there are no fences.

My first Mongolian dinner dish was unee hel or cattle tongue. Not much flavor but it tastes a little like roast beef and the texture is very similar. In Mongolian, hel also means language. Mongol hel is Mongolian, anglo hel is English. My reading has significantly improved since I’ve arrived, acting like a four year old reading every word I see. I’m starting to pick up speaking too and we start our first formal language class today. I’m really determined to become proficient by the time I leave. I didn’t have much background before I left, but I’m determined.

Genghis Grill

Speak of the devil, tonight in celebration of my bon voyage, I had Mongolian BBQ and a "Khan Mojito."

I also made the strawberry-rhubarb pie, as promised.

I am NOT a parfait

I leave for Mongolia on Saturday. So I wrote a poem today:

My sweet leafy greens

My dearest nectarines

You are loved

You will be missed

By thine taste bud

I have kissed

You good-bye.

To all the fruits and vegetables out there, this blog entry pays tribute to you, the herbaceous wonders of the world. Arugula, you were dear to me. Kale, too kind. Cabbage, so sweet. I will miss you. Mongolia is not necessarily known for its elaborate cuisine, partly because in America it’s been degraded to “Authentic Mongolian B-B-Q” and partly because it has none (so far as I know). While my vegetarian and part-time vegan habits were inspired and maintained by the atrocities of the American meat industry (e.g. Food, Inc.) I’ve grown accustomed to the lifestyle and have since maintained it partially out of preference. It’s become clear to me that with the exception of artichokes my dietary inclination is to all things autotrophic. But to each his own and to Mongolia it is mutton.

In Mongolia, meat and dairy aren’t just the staples of the diet, they’re the staples, the paper, the ink and the essay. In Ulaanbaatar and a few other urban areas some fruits and vegetables will be available, but for the most part I will soon accustom myself to the diet that strengthened the Mongol army centuries ago. Since I’ve gone meatless for some time, this summer I tried to reintroduce meat to my digestive system and so far the interactions have been civil. I started buying lamb and mutton from the Ithaca Farmer’s Market and since arriving in Dallas have been consuming meat at least once a day. As for dairy, I was graciously gifted with a gigantic cheese platter after the E.L. Rose Conservancy’s photo contest ceremony and spent my last week in Ithaca nibbling on the lactose medley. It’s no comparison to my upcoming diet, but it’s a start and I think my digestive system is ready.

One of the books we were assigned prior to our program’s start is Clifford Geertz’s “Interpretations of Cultures.” In the second chapter, he explains the “stratigraphic” conception of human life. He says, “man is a composite of ‘levels,’ each superimposed upon those beneath it and underpinning those above it.” There are certain ‘universal’ biological traits each Homo sapien has which in turn govern certain psychological functions which in turn influence certain social behaviors which in turn manifest themselves in the anthropologist’s Holy Grail of conceptions: the said Homo sapien’s culture. So in the deepest corners of our biological construction there is a single layer, a biological layer to which we almost all share. As you emerge from those cellular crevices and arrive at the brain, there lay another layer that is less common, a psychological layer. Above that, a social layer. And above that, a cultural layer. New experiences or living environments add more layers to each person’s unique collection. The further a layer is from the biological core, the more contextual variability there is within it. So while these layers can overlap among many they also provide the means for infinite diversity.

Though I almost immediately reverted back to the genius that is Shrek (thank you, Pixar, for my juvenile mind), this analogy made me think about my own layers. I started to think about my childhood and the psychological layers that were developing as a result of my biological layers. The way my brain learned to perceive a lump of brass as a candlestick and not a pair of faces or how it learned to differentiate shapes, colors, sounds, smells and then proceeded to label them. And the development of those layers were undoubtedly influenced by the social and cultural environments that I was brought up in. As a result of all that, the day-to-day phenomena that I experience have been assigned specific meanings and they will retain those meanings in perpetuity. I also thought about those angsty, emotional, frustrating adolescent years and how that was probably an acquisitional transition period where I went from having a meager collection of widely-shared inner layers to having my own diverse collection. The pair of rainbow knee-socks that I sported for two years in middle school wasn’t just the fashion faux paus of my Lincoln Spartan days, it was the manifestation of my stratigraphic self taking shape; my struggle to superimpose each layer into the one, cohesive ball of layers that everyone else calls Lindsay. Kind of like a cabbage (or an onion, but they have a certain...odor about them.).

I’ve come to realize that each new adventure, each new social or cultural experience that I have is my acquisition of a new layer or a new leaf. The more layers I have, the more well-rounded I become and I like being round, I always have. Rather than being the deformed cabbage that grew phototropically in one direction and turned out flat on one side, I’m hopefully maturing into the lush and robust Brassica that I’m proud to be. Moreover, each new experience that I have, each new layer that I develop can bring me closer to all the other Brassicas or all the other Captitatas or even all the other Brassicaceaes in the world. The more layers that I have, the more I share with others, the more I can relate with others and the more I can learn with others no matter how different we may be. Since I have those layers I have the means to mindfully share my knowledge, my philosophies and my culture. And because I've encouraged my adventurous side (for better or worse) I am no longer a mere biennial cluster subject to various tropisms rather I am an infinite learner. Forever growing round.

I live in the moment and by my senses. I love to see new places. I love to meet new people. I love to smell new things. I love to hear new music. And I really do love to try new foods (vegetable or otherwise). I think I love to do all these things because I love acquiring new layers. I am so excited to see what layers I gain this semester.

Who knows, I might come back to the States with an insatiable appetite for mutton. But all I know is that at the end of the day I can always go for some good, well-rounded cabbage.

Moreover, Cabbage, I’ll miss you.

Genghis Khan was the newt to my world

Saying goodbye to Susquehanna County for the season I returned to Ithaca in a "vista blue" Ford Focus equipped with Sirius satellite radio, a real fleet treat. It took me a while to figure out how to even work the radio, but when I did I came across Deepak Chopra's radio show and imediately became enthralled. He had Michio Kaku, the mind behind string theory and author of Physics of the Impossible. They devoted a full hour to discussing the theory of the "impossible."

Kaku depicted his first experience with the complex subject as a young child. He was peering into a goldfish pond and wondering what the societal structure of a goldfish community was like. Was there government? Were there teachers or scientists among them? As a goldfish scientist, he thought, the world above the water line must seem impossible. They know left, right, forwards and backwards, but above the surface was an unthinkable world sans gills or fins. To enter into the world as we humans know it was the impossible for the goldfish community and yet to us, it is commonplace and trivial. Kaku thought that the modern unthinkable things like alternate universes were the dry-land impossibilities of the human mind.

The two brilliant and soothing radio voices went on to describe the contents of Kaku's book in which he deliniates three classes of civilization. The first is a planetary civilization in which humans or the dominant population can harnass the power of the planetary systems. The second class is a stellar civilization in which the population can control the stars. The third, galactic. He said that we, the dominant population of the third rock from our sun, don't even qualify on this scale. We are essentially a class zero civilization as we are dependent on the energy of other organisms, be they live or fossilized. However, we are slowly approaching the transition and the internet is just one example of our strides of progress. The internet has begun to connect the world, share information and transform our kind into a unified, planetary, cooperative species. But to the tech-savvy be warned, Kaku said that the transition to a class one civilization is the most dangerous of all, nuclear weapon threats being an example.

A prominent glitch in our current civilization is the default to human emotion: anger, fear, passion, jealousy. In order to become a cooperative planetary civilization we need to adapt and mature mentally into the new global consciousness. While the modern world is full of borders and limits, the planetary world is unified. Until we can attain that paradigmatic view, our stuggle to globalize will be full of conflict, thus the dangerous transition.

I haven't read Kaku's book yet, but I hope to soon. In preparation for Mongolia, I've been coming up with questions I want to explore and Kaku's insight into the struggles of globalization have peaked my interest. Gaining independence and entering the global market both within the last century, Mongolia is experiencing the effects of rapid development and growth on its small, pastoral culture. What other nations have done over centuries, Mongolia has done in decades.

After answering the geographic inquiries of people I've told my upcoming travels to, I've realized that Mongolia has received very, very little attention. Despite the low frequency in national borders within Eastern Asia, Mongolia's presence has been somewhat ignored. Which is funny to me, because without Genghis Khan, our world would be totally different. Genghis Khan built more bridges, both literally and figuratively, than any other leader in history. He introduced the world at large to societies who thought their region was all there was. He connected the Eastern most points of Asia to the depths of Europe and the Middle East. His empire was the size of Africa. In my opinion, at a time when having a global consciouness was truly impossible, Genghis Khan had a stronger grasp than many current leaders today and we've mapped the sphere. And yet, he has been dismissed as a malicious conquerer who cared little for intercultural relations.

I think that this semester I'd really like to study the Mongolian mentality towards globalization and the development that's been sweeping through the country. The nomadic culture that has maintained its presence for centuries sees few borders. They read and listen to the land. To Genghis Khan Eternal Blue Sky was God. The Sky is not compressed into a single building or book, it is omnipresent and transcendent. It has no borders or limits. It is ever-present and watches over the planet. I think this sort of consciousness is critical for globalization and if still dominant, would be of great benefit to the nation's shift into the world economy.

A week from today, I'll be starting my journey from the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. I have much to do between now and then, but I really cannot wait. What a world Mongolia must be without gills.

Catching up on what hasn't begun

And the countdown begins...

On August 24th I'll be starting my semester abroad in Mongolia with the School for International Training (SIT). I've been wanting to write a pre-departure post for some time now, but it's been a bumpy and busy summer. Better late than never though, eh?

I had originally planned on a semester in Vietnam with SIT studying the ecology of the Mekong River Delta. Come early June, I had applied, been accepted and been busy preparing for the coming semester. Then I received a heartbreaking email: "We regret to inform you that your program has been canceled." Only two other people had been accepted into the Mekong program and I guess the semester wasn't worth it for just the three of us. My options were to apply to a different university independently, switch to another program within SIT or cancel my semester abroad altogether and spend another fall in Ithaca. As much as I love a Northeastern autumn, my housing, anticipated coursework and overall mentality were set on a semester abroad.

After a day of woe I decided I would find another SIT program. None seemed as good as Vietnam, but after eliminating programs with language prerequisites and less than thrilling program topics I found what I wanted--Mongolia: Culture and Development. Copious amounts of phone calls, emails and paperwork secured my spot in the program's fall semester and since then I've been busy re-preparing.

I'm freshly inoculated with five immunizations, my passport is now home to a Mongolian student visa, my 22-hour airline travel itinerary has been set and I'm now busy packing and reading. Our program director, Ulzii Bagsch, made her first contact with us students sending a tentative schedule of the program in addition to an intimidating reading assignment for the time allotted. I'll spend my first days with my urban host family in Ulaanbaatar acquainting myself with the city and learning the language (anticipating Vietnamese as my new language study, I admit that I know very little Mongolian right now, but this summer I taught myself to read Cyrillic and have learned a few key phrases).

This week I finish up my summer internship with the E.L. Rose Conservancy of Susquehanna County, stuff my belongings into the basement of my spring semester abode and say goodbye to Cornell (for awhile). On the 16th, I'll be departing for Dallas where I'll spend my last six days with my dad, stepmother and grandmother. The action-packed week will consist of last minute packing, strawberry-rhubarb pie baking (as per request by my father), reading, reading, reading and some nice family time. I'll depart the 22nd on a red-eye out of Dallas and my semester abroad will officially begin when my Air China International flight touches down in Ulaanbaatar two "days" later.

You can follow my travels on this blog and catch some other highlights from the links at left. Here's to my last two weeks.