I've got more stories from my trip to the countryside that I will be posting in the next day or two, but in the interim I'll tell you about the picnic I had with my family yesterday.
I had originally wanted to visit the Museum of Mongolian Traditional Medicine this Sunday and my host family in UB said they would be happy to accompany me (my host father is a doctor of traditional medicine...I watched him do acupuncture in our living room.) but when I woke up that morning my mother said that her brother was going to a monastery and asked if I wanted to come. Of course I did, so I postponed the museum outing for the time being. After a fresh breakfast of eggs, 'sausage,' cucumbers and yellow rice tea (like milk tea, but with sauteed yellow rice kernels added into the mix) my uncle, aunt, and two cousins arrived at our house with a Chinngis Khaan hot water thermos and a bag full of apples.
We piled nine people into their low-rolling van and set out. I thought we were driving to the Gandon Monastery in town, but as it turned out we started driving to the next aimag over, Tuv. Forty five minutes and a flat tire later we arrived at the gates of Manzhir monastery park. At most parks or famous sites foreigners have to pay two to sometimes five times the entrance fee, but my host mother successfully told the fare collector that I was her daughter and I got in Mongol price.
We pulled into the parking lot filled with tourist buses and minivans, poured all nine people out of the van and started up the hill. Manzhir is one of many monasteries that were destroyed during the religious oppression under Soviet control. All that stood was the clay bricks of a foundation, a partially reconstructed wooden building turned museum and the modest wooden roofs scattered across the mountains face protecting large paintings of Guatama Buddha on the largest of outcropped boulders. My host father and mother are both practicing Buddhists, so the summit to each hut yielded whispered prayers and bowed heads.
I was es tactic to have an opportunity for climbing. Being in a crowded district and just coming out of a cold front the air quality in UB is horrendous and will only get worse, inhibiting my runs or any form of exercise out of doors. My mother called me a mountain goat as I hopped up the rocks to the peak where an ovoo had been erected overlooking the valley. After circling it three times in solitude, my family finally caught up to me and we decided to descend back down to our van.
At the base, my father and uncle went down to the car while the rest of us staked out our picnic spot for our late afternoon meal. When we found a few square meters of stone free grass my uncle and father returned with a rolled up carpet on one shoulder and bags and bags of food and drinks. We rolled out the floor rug, removed our shoes and began the feast and I mean feast.
My mother feeds me like there's no tomorrow. Even when my hands were full with an apple and half a sandwich she reached out to me with a cookie and yet another sandwich and said, 'Eat Lindsay, eat.' We had three loaves of bread, apples, grapes, oranges, chocolate cookies and wafers, pickles, salami and the holy grail of Mongolian picnics, an entire pig's head. My uncle whipped out the cutting board and started slicing pieces of fat from it's neck and ears. Shortly followed by my mother making me another sandwich. I tried to explain to them that I prefer the leaner meats, but my attempts were lost in translation and my ability to reiterate my preferences obstructed by the two other sandwiches I was being forced to eat.
When the sun set over Tuv aimag and our family had finished eating we packed up the leftovers, rolled up the carpet and piled back into the van to drive into the early evening lights of UB. What I had expected to be a three hour tour (a three hour tour) of Gandon Monastary turned out to be a whole day of climbing and chewing the fat. It didn't work out so well for the paper I had to write that evening, but I must admit it was one of the most interesting picnics I've had in a while. And that beats the watermelon and three spoons party I had on the Ithaca Commons late this August.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Russian Hummers and Boiled Blood
Sain baina uu!
I’m back from the countryside! We spent the last two weeks traveling to Khuvsgul Aimag (the northernmost province in Mongolia) for our countryside homestay in the Darkhaad Depression. We flew from UB on EZNis Airlines into the small rustic town of Murun, the aimag center, surrounded by vast plains and low rocky mountains. From Murun it was some 300 kilometers to our homestay site, so we stopped at a ger camp for the night.
On our way to the ger camp we stopped at Uushgiin Hondii to see the largest known deerstone site in Mongolia. We were able to hike around the valley below our camp before our dinner: spaghetti and meat (sans sauce). I shared a cozy ger with two of my peers for the night and woke up to a light dusting of snow across the plains.
The second day’s drive took about nine hours. Our group rode in three grey Russian vans which are virtually indestructible. The dirt road from Murun to Ulaan Uul, the Soum center (regional town) closest to our homestay site, was beaten and undefined. Years of wear in the sloppiest of conditions have beaten the road into a lumpy mess. New paths are created whenever the mud gets too thick, so our drivers were constantly jerkily swerving to pick the “smoothest” route. If there’s one thing I’m thrilled I didn’t inherit from my mother, it’s her car sickness. In the bumpiest parts we drove 5 km an hour and to make up for such slow moments of travel the smooth parts became a race track for our three drivers, often slamming the brakes when we approached a dip too large to handle. I was surprised our car didn’t roll at some points or float away as we drove straight through a river. The Russian Hummers, as one of my teachers called them, are fearless.
Lunch was at a canteen ger along the road and the family that lived there invited us in for soup and tea. We stopped for directions at a snowy spot and broke the travel monotony with an impromptu snowball fight (we were all excited to see snow). We descended into the Darkhaad Depression, a valley of grassy pasture paralleled by a snowcapped mountain range and entirely Siberian Larch forests, after passing a line of ovoos or shrines. I was given a handful of seed and gradually tossed the grains onto the shrine while circling it three times. The ritual supposedly brings good luck so we all obliged. When we arrived in Ulaan Uul around 6 pm we were sick of driving (some more literally than others). We wandered the ghostly streets along broken wooden fences and worn down alley roads to find the last remaining open shop. We bought a jar of peaches and a bottle of Khuvsgul’s own vodka and spent the evening sharing stories and chasing the bottle of rubbing alcohol with peach syrup.
The next day was a short drive to our homestay sight. At the base camp we a lunch of bread with orom (the foam from boiled milk cooled into a delicious cream), khuushuur (meat filled fried dumplings), and the organs of a recent sheep slaughter; stomach, liver, kidney, sausage (intestines stuffed with strips of stomach and liver), and the notorious boiled blood. I ate all but the kidney. The stomach was like chewing gum, the liver wasn’t bad (I had been eating liver paste for breakfast with my UB family two weeks prior), the sausage had a good taste, but a…diverse texture, and the boiled blood was….not my favorite. It’s served in slices like discs. The texture is smooth, but it falls into pieces as soon as you take a bite. I found taking it in one bite was the best way to consume it. It tasted….like blood. I later found out they often season it with lots of salt and some diced onion, the only flavorings in the countryside. It was salty, rich and though I didn’t gag like Bear Grylls, I was not about to have seconds.
We had a brief horse riding lesson after lunch where we got to try the Mongolian saddles. They’re wooden and seem more decorative than practical. The saddle itself is so narrow one can’t sit inside of it. In a walk, you sit on the back and anything above canter you just stand. SIT provided us with combination Mongol-Western saddles which allowed us to sit, but were no more comfortable. Mongolian horses also come in a size small, so my time riding that week was quite humorous.
My host mother and sister were kneeling in the group of parents when we were all introduced. She raised her thin, short body to greet me; my sister stayed kneeling behind her. I used up my arsenal of Mongolian dialogue in a few minutes and so we sat silently, my sister still watching me intently, waiting for the van to drive us to our ger. The rest of the day was spent spitting out my limited vocabulary, flipping through my translation dictionary and dancing out my life story to my new family. I showed them pictures of my family and tried to explain the professions of my parents. I tried to explain that my mother is an orthodontic technician, but all I could get out was “dentist.” Hope you like the change in profession, Mom (or should I say doctor). A number of my explanations were similarly simplified and falsified. If ever find yourself in the Darkhaad Depression, my new major at Cornell is ‘grass’ and I no longer hail from the evergreen state rather our nation’s capital.
I got better at communicating as the week went on, but the first day was rough. As evening settled in my host mother poured me a cup of warm milk tea and at 9 pm when the stars were drifting across the Darkhaad valley I settled into my bed of folded blankets and deels.
I’m back from the countryside! We spent the last two weeks traveling to Khuvsgul Aimag (the northernmost province in Mongolia) for our countryside homestay in the Darkhaad Depression. We flew from UB on EZNis Airlines into the small rustic town of Murun, the aimag center, surrounded by vast plains and low rocky mountains. From Murun it was some 300 kilometers to our homestay site, so we stopped at a ger camp for the night.
On our way to the ger camp we stopped at Uushgiin Hondii to see the largest known deerstone site in Mongolia. We were able to hike around the valley below our camp before our dinner: spaghetti and meat (sans sauce). I shared a cozy ger with two of my peers for the night and woke up to a light dusting of snow across the plains.
The second day’s drive took about nine hours. Our group rode in three grey Russian vans which are virtually indestructible. The dirt road from Murun to Ulaan Uul, the Soum center (regional town) closest to our homestay site, was beaten and undefined. Years of wear in the sloppiest of conditions have beaten the road into a lumpy mess. New paths are created whenever the mud gets too thick, so our drivers were constantly jerkily swerving to pick the “smoothest” route. If there’s one thing I’m thrilled I didn’t inherit from my mother, it’s her car sickness. In the bumpiest parts we drove 5 km an hour and to make up for such slow moments of travel the smooth parts became a race track for our three drivers, often slamming the brakes when we approached a dip too large to handle. I was surprised our car didn’t roll at some points or float away as we drove straight through a river. The Russian Hummers, as one of my teachers called them, are fearless.
Lunch was at a canteen ger along the road and the family that lived there invited us in for soup and tea. We stopped for directions at a snowy spot and broke the travel monotony with an impromptu snowball fight (we were all excited to see snow). We descended into the Darkhaad Depression, a valley of grassy pasture paralleled by a snowcapped mountain range and entirely Siberian Larch forests, after passing a line of ovoos or shrines. I was given a handful of seed and gradually tossed the grains onto the shrine while circling it three times. The ritual supposedly brings good luck so we all obliged. When we arrived in Ulaan Uul around 6 pm we were sick of driving (some more literally than others). We wandered the ghostly streets along broken wooden fences and worn down alley roads to find the last remaining open shop. We bought a jar of peaches and a bottle of Khuvsgul’s own vodka and spent the evening sharing stories and chasing the bottle of rubbing alcohol with peach syrup.
The next day was a short drive to our homestay sight. At the base camp we a lunch of bread with orom (the foam from boiled milk cooled into a delicious cream), khuushuur (meat filled fried dumplings), and the organs of a recent sheep slaughter; stomach, liver, kidney, sausage (intestines stuffed with strips of stomach and liver), and the notorious boiled blood. I ate all but the kidney. The stomach was like chewing gum, the liver wasn’t bad (I had been eating liver paste for breakfast with my UB family two weeks prior), the sausage had a good taste, but a…diverse texture, and the boiled blood was….not my favorite. It’s served in slices like discs. The texture is smooth, but it falls into pieces as soon as you take a bite. I found taking it in one bite was the best way to consume it. It tasted….like blood. I later found out they often season it with lots of salt and some diced onion, the only flavorings in the countryside. It was salty, rich and though I didn’t gag like Bear Grylls, I was not about to have seconds.
We had a brief horse riding lesson after lunch where we got to try the Mongolian saddles. They’re wooden and seem more decorative than practical. The saddle itself is so narrow one can’t sit inside of it. In a walk, you sit on the back and anything above canter you just stand. SIT provided us with combination Mongol-Western saddles which allowed us to sit, but were no more comfortable. Mongolian horses also come in a size small, so my time riding that week was quite humorous.
My host mother and sister were kneeling in the group of parents when we were all introduced. She raised her thin, short body to greet me; my sister stayed kneeling behind her. I used up my arsenal of Mongolian dialogue in a few minutes and so we sat silently, my sister still watching me intently, waiting for the van to drive us to our ger. The rest of the day was spent spitting out my limited vocabulary, flipping through my translation dictionary and dancing out my life story to my new family. I showed them pictures of my family and tried to explain the professions of my parents. I tried to explain that my mother is an orthodontic technician, but all I could get out was “dentist.” Hope you like the change in profession, Mom (or should I say doctor). A number of my explanations were similarly simplified and falsified. If ever find yourself in the Darkhaad Depression, my new major at Cornell is ‘grass’ and I no longer hail from the evergreen state rather our nation’s capital.
I got better at communicating as the week went on, but the first day was rough. As evening settled in my host mother poured me a cup of warm milk tea and at 9 pm when the stars were drifting across the Darkhaad valley I settled into my bed of folded blankets and deels.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sain uu!
I'm posting to say that I won't be posting for a while. We'll be departing tomorrow for the countryside, Hovsgol aimag, where we'll be with our rural homestay family for two weeks. I'll have much to say when I return and many photos to share. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. I'll be out of internet entire contact for the two weeks. I'll respond to emails when I return.
In the meantime, check out my first blog post on Glimpse!
I'm posting to say that I won't be posting for a while. We'll be departing tomorrow for the countryside, Hovsgol aimag, where we'll be with our rural homestay family for two weeks. I'll have much to say when I return and many photos to share. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. I'll be out of internet entire contact for the two weeks. I'll respond to emails when I return.
In the meantime, check out my first blog post on Glimpse!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Khaans, picked pockets and the new fam.
Bonding over Chinggis, becoming a pick-pocket victim, getting lost on the UB bus system and meeting the former Prime Minister of Mongolia. Much has happened since I arrived in UB a week and a half ago and I apologize for my poor correspondence as of late. The first week was action packed with orientation, over the weekend we moved in with our UB host families and this week was our first section of classes. SIT has kept me busy, busy, busy.
There are five other students in my program: Sam, Brandon, Nathan, Kara and Britt. All of us are from the States and I think all of us are juniors. We started out in Anuujin Hotel in central UB about a half hour walk from our school. It was nice all being together and there was a nice pub across the street (they like to call bars pubs here) which meant for some lovely evenings testing out Mongolia's brews. I think the general consensus lays with Khar Khorin. We had a number of informative introductions to the city and the program which unfortunately has kept us too busy to explore on our own. A lot of us are antsy to get out and about.
We visited Narantuul, literally the black market, last week as part of our orientation. It's a few acres of endless stalls and tents selling everything from Cucci bags and Adidoos shoes to sofas, chainsaws, Changhong satellite dishes, fabrics, bike parts, kitchen supplies, meat, dairy in addition to some hairstyling and nail painting service shops. It's a pick-pocketer's dream with crowded aisles, lots of money coming in and out and quite a few foreigners. I had put a pack of cards in my back pocket to see if anyone would take it, but no luck. I'm going to keep trying though. Our visit was not without purpose. We were given 1000 Tugrik (about 75 cents), an hour and a half and asked to buy something that would be useful in our countryside visit. A lot harder than sounds. I spent and hour and fifteen minutes perusing all the sections and getting lost. I finally ended up with a MacGyver-esque needle and thread which was well-received. We're going back later in the week to get riding boots for our trip to the countryside next Wednesday for our first rural homestay.
Last week we all ventured through central UB to Mobicom to buy some cell phones for our stay. When we got to Mobicom I took off my pack to find my bag open and wallet gone. I may have escaped Narantuul, but I was a target on the streets and they outsmarted me. Needless to say, I didn't get my phone that day and rushed home to start calling my bank and canceling accounts. B of A said they could express ship me a new ATM card, but when I gave them my address here in Mongolia they rejected it. Street names here are obsolete. Mongolian directions are by proximity: next the Laos Embassy, near Sukhbaatar Square, etc. Thus, the postal system has to rely entirely on P.O. Boxes. Well B of A doesn't approve of P.O. Boxes, so I had them send it to my house in WA and my parents will send it here. I'm eagerly and frugally awaiting it's arrival.
Our UB hometay started Saturday. I'm living with a family in the fourth district about 10 kilometers from my school. My father, Tomorbaatar, is a doctor of traditional medicine. My mother, Ariuna, works has his assistant in his clinic. My sister, Odko, is 17 and will be studying international business in Australia come October. Very friendly, very helpful and they feed me well! I may be missing those leafy greens, but what Mongolia lacks in vegetative variety they make up in quantity!
I take a bus to and from school everyday. The UB bus system is rather ridiculous as far as I can tell. Market economy ideologies have carried over to the bus system and they really enforce efficiency. Forget the word bus, I ride to school in a clown car. I can take the five or the thirteen route, but the only confirmed stops are where I get on and where I get off. If the bus gets stuck in traffic or it can't turn left it will spontaneously take a detour. Yesterday the driver literally jumped the curb, did a number of three point turns and went back to the main road skipping three stops. My first day riding the bus I ended up taking the wrong one home. I was rushing out of the UB Hotel (the best wireless in UB) and jumped the first bus with the number five pasted to its window. But apparently there's more than one five route and I got on the wrong one. When we were approaching my neighborhood and it was supposed to turn left it kept on trucking. I got off about 3 kilometers from where I wanted to be and had to flag a taxi for the rest of my ride.
Today we visited the government building in UB and met with the former Prime Minister R. Amarjargal. We talked with him about Mongolia's economy, the effects of the global economic crisis on Mongolia and mining interests. Then we got a tour of the government building. We got to see the Parliament room and a number of works of art. I'll elaborate later.
A week from today we'll be heading up to Hosvgol Aimag (province) for our first country-side homestay. We'll be there for two weeks and will be back mid-September. I've been restraining my typically snap-happy habits to try and adjust this week. When I go to a knew place everything seems worthy of a picture and my snap-happy habit takes on plague-like symptoms. I've desensitized myself a little to my new environment and have learned a little about keeping my beloved Nikon out of some particularly eager hands. I'm hoping for my first real photo outing this weekend and will post some pictures soon. I'll also be taking my camera to Hovsgol for as long as my batteries last, so expect some new photos after that. I've taken a lot of video, but I've only uploaded a few so far. I'll get working on that as well.
Mongolia is incredible so far! Despite the bumpy landing, this semester is taking off. I'll keep posting.
Bayaritai!
There are five other students in my program: Sam, Brandon, Nathan, Kara and Britt. All of us are from the States and I think all of us are juniors. We started out in Anuujin Hotel in central UB about a half hour walk from our school. It was nice all being together and there was a nice pub across the street (they like to call bars pubs here) which meant for some lovely evenings testing out Mongolia's brews. I think the general consensus lays with Khar Khorin. We had a number of informative introductions to the city and the program which unfortunately has kept us too busy to explore on our own. A lot of us are antsy to get out and about.
We visited Narantuul, literally the black market, last week as part of our orientation. It's a few acres of endless stalls and tents selling everything from Cucci bags and Adidoos shoes to sofas, chainsaws, Changhong satellite dishes, fabrics, bike parts, kitchen supplies, meat, dairy in addition to some hairstyling and nail painting service shops. It's a pick-pocketer's dream with crowded aisles, lots of money coming in and out and quite a few foreigners. I had put a pack of cards in my back pocket to see if anyone would take it, but no luck. I'm going to keep trying though. Our visit was not without purpose. We were given 1000 Tugrik (about 75 cents), an hour and a half and asked to buy something that would be useful in our countryside visit. A lot harder than sounds. I spent and hour and fifteen minutes perusing all the sections and getting lost. I finally ended up with a MacGyver-esque needle and thread which was well-received. We're going back later in the week to get riding boots for our trip to the countryside next Wednesday for our first rural homestay.
Last week we all ventured through central UB to Mobicom to buy some cell phones for our stay. When we got to Mobicom I took off my pack to find my bag open and wallet gone. I may have escaped Narantuul, but I was a target on the streets and they outsmarted me. Needless to say, I didn't get my phone that day and rushed home to start calling my bank and canceling accounts. B of A said they could express ship me a new ATM card, but when I gave them my address here in Mongolia they rejected it. Street names here are obsolete. Mongolian directions are by proximity: next the Laos Embassy, near Sukhbaatar Square, etc. Thus, the postal system has to rely entirely on P.O. Boxes. Well B of A doesn't approve of P.O. Boxes, so I had them send it to my house in WA and my parents will send it here. I'm eagerly and frugally awaiting it's arrival.
Our UB hometay started Saturday. I'm living with a family in the fourth district about 10 kilometers from my school. My father, Tomorbaatar, is a doctor of traditional medicine. My mother, Ariuna, works has his assistant in his clinic. My sister, Odko, is 17 and will be studying international business in Australia come October. Very friendly, very helpful and they feed me well! I may be missing those leafy greens, but what Mongolia lacks in vegetative variety they make up in quantity!
I take a bus to and from school everyday. The UB bus system is rather ridiculous as far as I can tell. Market economy ideologies have carried over to the bus system and they really enforce efficiency. Forget the word bus, I ride to school in a clown car. I can take the five or the thirteen route, but the only confirmed stops are where I get on and where I get off. If the bus gets stuck in traffic or it can't turn left it will spontaneously take a detour. Yesterday the driver literally jumped the curb, did a number of three point turns and went back to the main road skipping three stops. My first day riding the bus I ended up taking the wrong one home. I was rushing out of the UB Hotel (the best wireless in UB) and jumped the first bus with the number five pasted to its window. But apparently there's more than one five route and I got on the wrong one. When we were approaching my neighborhood and it was supposed to turn left it kept on trucking. I got off about 3 kilometers from where I wanted to be and had to flag a taxi for the rest of my ride.
Today we visited the government building in UB and met with the former Prime Minister R. Amarjargal. We talked with him about Mongolia's economy, the effects of the global economic crisis on Mongolia and mining interests. Then we got a tour of the government building. We got to see the Parliament room and a number of works of art. I'll elaborate later.
A week from today we'll be heading up to Hosvgol Aimag (province) for our first country-side homestay. We'll be there for two weeks and will be back mid-September. I've been restraining my typically snap-happy habits to try and adjust this week. When I go to a knew place everything seems worthy of a picture and my snap-happy habit takes on plague-like symptoms. I've desensitized myself a little to my new environment and have learned a little about keeping my beloved Nikon out of some particularly eager hands. I'm hoping for my first real photo outing this weekend and will post some pictures soon. I'll also be taking my camera to Hovsgol for as long as my batteries last, so expect some new photos after that. I've taken a lot of video, but I've only uploaded a few so far. I'll get working on that as well.
Mongolia is incredible so far! Despite the bumpy landing, this semester is taking off. I'll keep posting.
Bayaritai!
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