Hey all, it's time for another rousing installment of the Mongoliosity blog--one that may perhaps be the last entry written from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. As I mentioned previously, on August 4 I will be departing for Tokyo, about a week and a half in advance of my original departure date. With my in-country research finished up and my entire office vacant while management is away at Lake Khuvsgul, there was little incentive to remain here and a whole lot of incentive to book it over Tokyo. Also, having taken three years of Japanese in college yet never having set foot on Japanese soil, I have been waiting five long years to flex my bilingual muscle (that is, the tongue) and mercilessly subject some poor Japanese to a flurry of broken sentences, botched pronunciation, and hapless bewilderment. Nihon e ikimashoo! Once there, my plans include:
drinking a beer from a vending machine;
gorging myself on extortionately priced seafood;
getting thoroughly disoriented at a Japanese disco;
climbing Mt. Fuji (following in my father's footsteps);
achieving spiritual enlightenment on a day trip to Kyoto;
and finding one of those fancy electronic toilets that performs the little dancing water and lights show when you press the magic button. Those exist, right? Or was that just in that Simpsons episode?
There will be plenty more to say once I've actually arrived in Tokyo. In the meantime, I have six more thrilling(?) days to spend in Ulaanbaatar, and it's about time that I got around to doing and seeing all the things I have been putting off. For example, I really ought to go souvenir shopping for friends and family. (Incidentally, I detest shopping of any kind, but I will dutifully do it anyway since I love you all so much). Actually, now would be a good time to revisit my list of souvenir recipients: Mom, Dad, Becky, Matt, Linda, Shannon, Sahar, Livy, Ryan, Sarah. If you feel that you belong on this list and have been unjustly overlooked, send me an email RIGHT AWAY (ben.ford.lbj@gmail.com) with your name and maybe some details about what kinds of animals you like or whatever, and I'll find something suitable for you!
So as my time here wraps up, I feel obliged to record some observations I have made over the past seven and a half weeks regarding UB in particular and Mongolia in general. Adhering to no format whatsoever, I have the following things to say.
The food in Mongolia can be generously described as "bland." I have met several people for whom Mongolian food ranks up with the most boring and uninspired cuisines on the planet. The diet is quite simple: potatoes, mutton, onions, wheat noodles, oil. Occasionally, if you're very lucky, you may witness an elusive carrot or grain of rice. But spices and seasonings? Heaven forbid. God save that unfortunate Mongolian whose delicate palate runs across a stray bay leaf or sprinkling of cumin. Now, I understand it would be hard, as a Mongolian, to read this without taking offense. And if you do, rightly so. However, before drawing and quartering me, know this: khuushuur, in all of its disgustingly greasy glory, was without doubt the only thing that could have truly satiated me as I wandered aimlessly around the National Stadium in searing heat during Naadam. As the oil puddled in the bottom of the bag, soaking through each pocket to create a soggy, sopping mass of sheep meat and fried breading, I realized that no other fairground treat would have sufficed. So I tip my cap to you, khuushuur. Now let me never eat another bite of you again.
Timbaland is apparently revered as a deity here. I have never heard so much Timbaland in my life! It is thanks to Mongolian pop stations that I have come to truly appreciate the man's genius. You can't fully understand this until you've been forced to take car ride through UB during which time Timbaland-featuring-Onerepublic's now ubiquitous hit, "Apologize," blares for a continuous thirty minutes on infinite repeat. Aside from Timbaland, though, no one in Mongolia seems to have heard of any post-1997 American pop music, as Backstreet Boys and N'Sync are still enjoying the height of popularity here.
Oops, my time today is up. More observations to come tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Encounter
Today as I walked to work, I was approached by a Mongolian man in his mid-40s. I turned back to return his greeting as he walked up behind me. He asked me, "Where are you from?" (a question routinely posed to foreigners by Mongolian men), to which I responded, "United States." Smiling at me knowingly, he said "Ahhh, George Bush. George Bush. Not good." I concurred, "No, no, not very good at all." He then introduced himself, and I gave my name in return, shaking his hand. We walked a few paces in silence, then he looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Please help me. Just a dollar." While I maintain a policy against handing out money on the street, this morning I legitimately had no cash with me--not a tugrug to my name. Apologetically, but assertively, I conveyed this fact to him. He asked again, to which I again replied that I was very sorry but had no money for him. He took a step backward, then clasped my hand back into his. "Ben?" he said, haltingly. Pausing, he put his index finger to his forehead, as though summoning a few meager words in English across some great chasm of memory. Then he said, "You treat me like a human being. Thank you. Thank you." He released his grip and smiled, briefly, then departed, waving as he went. I waved back and continued down the street.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Apologies
So, let's not dance around the issue. It's been an unreasonably long time since I last posted. And that's unacceptable. I'm not asking for forgiveness, but maybe I can solicit just a bit of pity. For you see, over the past couple of weeks I have been subjected to a delirious personal drama the likes of which I haven't experienced in years. I won't get into details here, but suffice it to say that it has consumed me to the core of my being, annihilating my will to write--hell, annihilating my will to do anything productive whatsoever. I know that sounds like a childish excuse; and it is. I honestly believed that I was old enough to have escaped the clutches of schoolyard romantic angst, but apparently I was sorely, sorely mistaken. I have successfully avoided any serious consideration of relationships for a solid year and a half, and have prided myself on the accomplishment. But apparently sometimes you simply can't control who walks into your life, hauls you up by the ankles, and shakes all the sense out of your damn head.
So, that being said, sorry. I've been preoccupied. Setting that aside, where to begin? The weekend before last was the national holiday, Naadam, so we all spent a good deal of time attending the events and getting sick off greasy khuushuur and airag. On that Thursday we took a van out to the countryside to watch children race horses. The spectacle was both entertaining and slightly horrifying, as we watched several riderless horses cross the finish line. It wasn't clear where their riders had gone, but we all hoped for the best. Over the weekend we went to the national stadium to watch the opening ceremony, Mongolian wrestling (which is highly chaotic and nearly impossible to follow), archery, and sheepbone flicking (look it up). I was out in the sun far too much but managed to escape without any serious burns. And now I have an obscene farmer's tan. My face and arms haven't been this dark since high school; the contrast with my belly and legs is almost nauseating. Bear in mind, however, that my skin naturally borders on translucent; thus, when I say "dark," what I really mean is that for the first time in years my face actually looks moderately healthy and normal.
This past weekend we took an overnight camping trip to Terelj national park. The scenery was even more striking than what we'd seen in Hustai. I'll post pictures on facebook if I get the chance. In the morning, we went hiking, horseback riding, and then hitched a ride over to the river to spend a lazy afternoon along its banks.
In other big news, I can officially announce now that I come August 4, I will be leaving Mongolia earlier than planned to spend a few weeks in Tokyo en route to the United States. Alice's dad has an apartment there which he has graciously allowed me to occupy, free of charge. So there will be additional stories and pictures from that trip coming soon!
One final note: not a day goes by that I don't see some kid wearing Houston Rockets t-shirt. Not a single day. Seriously.
So, that being said, sorry. I've been preoccupied. Setting that aside, where to begin? The weekend before last was the national holiday, Naadam, so we all spent a good deal of time attending the events and getting sick off greasy khuushuur and airag. On that Thursday we took a van out to the countryside to watch children race horses. The spectacle was both entertaining and slightly horrifying, as we watched several riderless horses cross the finish line. It wasn't clear where their riders had gone, but we all hoped for the best. Over the weekend we went to the national stadium to watch the opening ceremony, Mongolian wrestling (which is highly chaotic and nearly impossible to follow), archery, and sheepbone flicking (look it up). I was out in the sun far too much but managed to escape without any serious burns. And now I have an obscene farmer's tan. My face and arms haven't been this dark since high school; the contrast with my belly and legs is almost nauseating. Bear in mind, however, that my skin naturally borders on translucent; thus, when I say "dark," what I really mean is that for the first time in years my face actually looks moderately healthy and normal.
This past weekend we took an overnight camping trip to Terelj national park. The scenery was even more striking than what we'd seen in Hustai. I'll post pictures on facebook if I get the chance. In the morning, we went hiking, horseback riding, and then hitched a ride over to the river to spend a lazy afternoon along its banks.
In other big news, I can officially announce now that I come August 4, I will be leaving Mongolia earlier than planned to spend a few weeks in Tokyo en route to the United States. Alice's dad has an apartment there which he has graciously allowed me to occupy, free of charge. So there will be additional stories and pictures from that trip coming soon!
One final note: not a day goes by that I don't see some kid wearing Houston Rockets t-shirt. Not a single day. Seriously.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Airag
No time for a long post today, unfortunately, but I just wanted to check in to let y'all know two items: first, since it is the Mongolian national holiday, Naadam, all weekend, I am off work until next Wednesday. So no updates until then. :( The second item is the following brief tale from my adventures at the national stadium today. While perusing the stands outside the stadium with Emily and Mark, we happened upon an airag vendor. For those of you who are unfamiliar with airag, it is the Mongolian word for fermented yak's milk. You read that right. The vendor was serving generous bowls of the stuff up, and apparently Emily, who felt she had something to prove, felt compelled to purchase a bowl...which she promptly handed off to Mark after one small sip. And of course, after another equally small sip, Mark's own face turned a sickly shade of green. He handed me the bowl, grimacing, "if I have one more drink I will puke." Thus, of necessity, I straight up chugged the entire 20 ounce bowl of the stuff. Holy shit. Let's just say it's basically like drinking liquid cheese. With alcohol.
I'm a champ.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Przewalski's horses are pretty damned awesome
Hello hello! Before diving into the next fascinating installment of The Mongoliosity Serial, I feel compelled to make a quick note addressed directly to you, the reader: over the past week, I've suddenly become aware of your presence, and I won't lie to you--it's a bit disconcerting. As a result of the sudden flood of correspondence I received in the wake of the riots last week, I was introduced to more than a dozen individuals whose readership of this blog had been previously unknown to me. And now that I know about you, as I sit down to type out this entry it feels as though you're all standing just over my shoulder, hawkishly scrutinizing every word I say! Go on, yuk it up out there in Readerland while I agonize over the placement of commas; whether to describe an ancient Mongolian artifact as "antediluvian" or simply "old;" whether or not the content of certain rants is appropriate for readers of all ages. Kick back and relax; I'll try not to disappoint you.
This was a lot easier when I thought Mom and Dad were the only ones following my blog.
Since the riots occurred Tuesday night, you'll recall that by Wednesday morning the president had declared a state of emergency. This meant tanks at intersections, widespread restrictions on auto traffic, a curfew in effect from 10 pm to 8 am each night, and, by far the most importantly, a prohibition on the sale of alcohol in the capital city. Oh dear lord, why?? We weasely foreigners attempted on several occasions to feign obliviousness, innocently ordering beer at every restaurant we visited in the hopes that some waiter, somewhere, would take pity on us and sneak us a couple of cold ones on the sly. To their credit, they denied us every time. Frustrated desires aside, work on Wednesday and Thursday turned out to be spectacularly unproductive. Wednesday the office was in marked disarray--only about half of the staff even bothered to show up, and those of us that did mostly carried out our responsibilities in a dazed, mechanical fashion. We were all tense, distracted by our anticipation of further bad news. (Fortunately, none ultimately materialized). Bill Infante, our head honcho, called several staff meetings to gather news and insight on the situation from both political and civil perspectives. By Thursday, an unhealthy level anxiety was welling up within each of us. We needed a release, recreation. We needed to see the damn countryside already.
Laura, ever the take-charge, leaderly type, booked us a night in the ger camp at Hustai National Park, about 100 km west of UB. Friday morning, our driver rolled up in front of the dormitory at around 8:30 am and we all piled in for what promised to be a bumpy ride. Getting out of UB, fortunately, was relatively easy at such an early hour--later in the day the gridlocked traffic makes driving anywhere an insufferable undertaking. As we broke free of the urban sprawl, the vast, green Mongolian steppe unfurled before us for miles in all directions. Contemplating the scenery around us, we decided that the vastness and the emptiness of the landscape, complemented by the vast, open sky, reminded us most of Montana or Wyoming. The beauty of the steppe is stark; indeed, by the time we were 30 minutes outside the city, the trees vanished altogether. Also, remember that the grasslands are only so green for a few brief months out of every year; I recall the hills being a much duller shade of brown when I flew in at the beginning of June.
An hour or two into the drive, we were all in high spirits, reveling in the views around us, when disaster struck. It just wouldn't be a road trip through a third world country without a little dose of disaster, would it? (For the record, on my first day in Guatemala, the road to Quetzaltenango was rendered impassable by a monstrous avalanche about halfway along; I had to hitchhike three separate times to get to my final destination). If you've ever driven in the Mongolian countryside, you'll know that outside of aimag centers, there are roughly 10 km of total paved roads. This means that to get to the great majority of destinations, Mongolians simply carve their own roads out of the landscape. (Hence the bumpiness). However, this can become problematic after a solid rain, which is precisely what we discovered that morning. Unexpectedly, our van's progress stalled, and before we knew it the driver had lodged all four tires 12 inches deep in gooey, slippery mud. Being stalwart travelers, we were not to be discouraged by such a setback, and we all leapt out of the car to begin dislodging our vehicle. At first we all simply got behind the van and attempted to push our way out of the groove. However, the mud afforded us little traction and within an instant Emily had fallen and was plastered with the stuff head to toe. (Check out the picture of her in the facebook album; classic). We needed to be more resourceful. Searching the area, we discovered a small root vegetable growing in abundance whose leaves just might provide the traction we needed to get the van unstuck and rolling along again. Using vegetable leaves, twigs, a bucket for scooping, random chunks of concrete (?), and our own bare hands, we constructed a solid, frictive surface for the van to travel over. We all got behind it and heaved again as the driver hit the gas, and suddenly the van was free!
And then it was stuck again. Twice more we got stuck, twice more we panted and grunted and heaved and unstuck the van. Dislodging it the third time, we screamed frantically and motioned for our driver to "keep driving!! for God's sake just keep driving until you're back on dry land!!" Sprinting after the van to catch up with it, we climbed back inside and congratulated one another through ragged breaths.
The view from our ger camp at Hustai was spectacular. After locking our gear up, we wasted no time in setting out into the park to see Przewalski's horses (takhi in Mongolian). The horses are fascinating animals, with the hide of a domesticated horse but a bone structure much closer to that of a zebra--some takhi even have faint, zebra-like stripes encircling their lower legs. We took lots of pictures and oohed and ahhed, then moved onward. As we traveled, we were fortunate enough to see more takhi, marmots (so fat/awkward/cute), argali sheep, deer, and gazelles. Our final destination lay 40 km northeast of camp: a small, unassuming deerstone in a remote valley at the heart of Hustai. The air there was so clean; I can't begin to convey how wholesome and refreshing country air can be after four straight weeks of UB smog. In light of my professed agnosticism, I think it's fairly significant to note that my time there could almost have been described as "spiritual." That night, we returned to the camp for dinner and (thank heaven) booze! Apparently the booze ban only applied to UB, so we all celebrated with a harsh, crappy bottle of Chinggis black. Finally, before returning to our gers for the night, we all lay out on a hill above camp to watch the stars. If you've never had the pleasure of viewing the brilliant night sky from a spot totally free from light pollution, I recommend that you get on that. Immediately. Like, right now. Stop reading this and just go, for the love of licorice.
The next morning we sat outside on a patio and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. I took some time to just sit beside a field and watch the grass ripple in the breeze. The sights and smells were powerfully evocative of eastern Oregon, where I used to visit Kevin's cabin with him and his family. Later in the morning, we all rode (domesticated) horses over the steppe above the ger camp. It is hard to put words to the feeling of surveying the Mongolian countryside from the back of a horse. It would have been more fun if we'd been able to go fast, though. The guide kept getting mad at me when I'd subtly dig my heels into my horse's sides and whisper "Chuu! Chuu!" Oh well.
Unfortunately, the day was curtailed unexpectedly when Emma's horse got spooked and threw her from her mount. At first she appeared to be seriously injured, but once she had been calmed down and examined, she seemed only to be bruised and badly shaken up. Later, after she had been to the SOS clinic back in UB, the x-rays confirmed that she had no broken bones and no spinal damage. Thank goodness! We were disappointed to say goodbye to Hustai so abruptly, but grateful to have had the opportunity to escape UB and enjoy the rustic charms of the countryside. Riding home, I vowed never to spend a full weekend in UB again. And with Naadam fast approaching, I should have no trouble getting out again this weekend!
That's all I have to report for now, folks. I hope you enjoyed it--those of you that managed to stick around this long, at least--and please keep in touch! Love to you all.
This was a lot easier when I thought Mom and Dad were the only ones following my blog.
Since the riots occurred Tuesday night, you'll recall that by Wednesday morning the president had declared a state of emergency. This meant tanks at intersections, widespread restrictions on auto traffic, a curfew in effect from 10 pm to 8 am each night, and, by far the most importantly, a prohibition on the sale of alcohol in the capital city. Oh dear lord, why?? We weasely foreigners attempted on several occasions to feign obliviousness, innocently ordering beer at every restaurant we visited in the hopes that some waiter, somewhere, would take pity on us and sneak us a couple of cold ones on the sly. To their credit, they denied us every time. Frustrated desires aside, work on Wednesday and Thursday turned out to be spectacularly unproductive. Wednesday the office was in marked disarray--only about half of the staff even bothered to show up, and those of us that did mostly carried out our responsibilities in a dazed, mechanical fashion. We were all tense, distracted by our anticipation of further bad news. (Fortunately, none ultimately materialized). Bill Infante, our head honcho, called several staff meetings to gather news and insight on the situation from both political and civil perspectives. By Thursday, an unhealthy level anxiety was welling up within each of us. We needed a release, recreation. We needed to see the damn countryside already.
Laura, ever the take-charge, leaderly type, booked us a night in the ger camp at Hustai National Park, about 100 km west of UB. Friday morning, our driver rolled up in front of the dormitory at around 8:30 am and we all piled in for what promised to be a bumpy ride. Getting out of UB, fortunately, was relatively easy at such an early hour--later in the day the gridlocked traffic makes driving anywhere an insufferable undertaking. As we broke free of the urban sprawl, the vast, green Mongolian steppe unfurled before us for miles in all directions. Contemplating the scenery around us, we decided that the vastness and the emptiness of the landscape, complemented by the vast, open sky, reminded us most of Montana or Wyoming. The beauty of the steppe is stark; indeed, by the time we were 30 minutes outside the city, the trees vanished altogether. Also, remember that the grasslands are only so green for a few brief months out of every year; I recall the hills being a much duller shade of brown when I flew in at the beginning of June.
An hour or two into the drive, we were all in high spirits, reveling in the views around us, when disaster struck. It just wouldn't be a road trip through a third world country without a little dose of disaster, would it? (For the record, on my first day in Guatemala, the road to Quetzaltenango was rendered impassable by a monstrous avalanche about halfway along; I had to hitchhike three separate times to get to my final destination). If you've ever driven in the Mongolian countryside, you'll know that outside of aimag centers, there are roughly 10 km of total paved roads. This means that to get to the great majority of destinations, Mongolians simply carve their own roads out of the landscape. (Hence the bumpiness). However, this can become problematic after a solid rain, which is precisely what we discovered that morning. Unexpectedly, our van's progress stalled, and before we knew it the driver had lodged all four tires 12 inches deep in gooey, slippery mud. Being stalwart travelers, we were not to be discouraged by such a setback, and we all leapt out of the car to begin dislodging our vehicle. At first we all simply got behind the van and attempted to push our way out of the groove. However, the mud afforded us little traction and within an instant Emily had fallen and was plastered with the stuff head to toe. (Check out the picture of her in the facebook album; classic). We needed to be more resourceful. Searching the area, we discovered a small root vegetable growing in abundance whose leaves just might provide the traction we needed to get the van unstuck and rolling along again. Using vegetable leaves, twigs, a bucket for scooping, random chunks of concrete (?), and our own bare hands, we constructed a solid, frictive surface for the van to travel over. We all got behind it and heaved again as the driver hit the gas, and suddenly the van was free!
And then it was stuck again. Twice more we got stuck, twice more we panted and grunted and heaved and unstuck the van. Dislodging it the third time, we screamed frantically and motioned for our driver to "keep driving!! for God's sake just keep driving until you're back on dry land!!" Sprinting after the van to catch up with it, we climbed back inside and congratulated one another through ragged breaths.
The view from our ger camp at Hustai was spectacular. After locking our gear up, we wasted no time in setting out into the park to see Przewalski's horses (takhi in Mongolian). The horses are fascinating animals, with the hide of a domesticated horse but a bone structure much closer to that of a zebra--some takhi even have faint, zebra-like stripes encircling their lower legs. We took lots of pictures and oohed and ahhed, then moved onward. As we traveled, we were fortunate enough to see more takhi, marmots (so fat/awkward/cute), argali sheep, deer, and gazelles. Our final destination lay 40 km northeast of camp: a small, unassuming deerstone in a remote valley at the heart of Hustai. The air there was so clean; I can't begin to convey how wholesome and refreshing country air can be after four straight weeks of UB smog. In light of my professed agnosticism, I think it's fairly significant to note that my time there could almost have been described as "spiritual." That night, we returned to the camp for dinner and (thank heaven) booze! Apparently the booze ban only applied to UB, so we all celebrated with a harsh, crappy bottle of Chinggis black. Finally, before returning to our gers for the night, we all lay out on a hill above camp to watch the stars. If you've never had the pleasure of viewing the brilliant night sky from a spot totally free from light pollution, I recommend that you get on that. Immediately. Like, right now. Stop reading this and just go, for the love of licorice.
The next morning we sat outside on a patio and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. I took some time to just sit beside a field and watch the grass ripple in the breeze. The sights and smells were powerfully evocative of eastern Oregon, where I used to visit Kevin's cabin with him and his family. Later in the morning, we all rode (domesticated) horses over the steppe above the ger camp. It is hard to put words to the feeling of surveying the Mongolian countryside from the back of a horse. It would have been more fun if we'd been able to go fast, though. The guide kept getting mad at me when I'd subtly dig my heels into my horse's sides and whisper "Chuu! Chuu!" Oh well.
Unfortunately, the day was curtailed unexpectedly when Emma's horse got spooked and threw her from her mount. At first she appeared to be seriously injured, but once she had been calmed down and examined, she seemed only to be bruised and badly shaken up. Later, after she had been to the SOS clinic back in UB, the x-rays confirmed that she had no broken bones and no spinal damage. Thank goodness! We were disappointed to say goodbye to Hustai so abruptly, but grateful to have had the opportunity to escape UB and enjoy the rustic charms of the countryside. Riding home, I vowed never to spend a full weekend in UB again. And with Naadam fast approaching, I should have no trouble getting out again this weekend!
That's all I have to report for now, folks. I hope you enjoyed it--those of you that managed to stick around this long, at least--and please keep in touch! Love to you all.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Photos!
I don't have time for a full-length post (though there is plenty to write about), but I do have the pleasure today of unveiling the first set of photos from my travels in Mongolia! Follow this link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2054772&l=80732&id=28200149
Even without an account, you should be able to view the photos.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
State of Emergency
So I really do intend to post a blog about the experience of being an international election observer Sunday, but there is some other news that sort of takes priority at the moment: as of last night, President Enkhbayar has called an official State of Emergency here in Mongolia. For the birds-eye level explanation of the situation, read these articles:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7483286.stm
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/07/01/mongolia.emergency.ap/index.html
Basically, Democratic Party (DP) supporters are alleging that the MPRP offered outrageously large bribes to members of the GEC in exchange for counts in their favor. Preliminary results show the MPRP claiming a solid majority in parliament--which yesterday incited large crowds of protesters to violence. I won't bother with any political analysis here; instead I'll just recount what little involvement I've had in the situation.
The demonstrations began Monday night, but at that time it wasn't clear whether there was any threat of violence. I first encountered large crowds as Emma and I walked back to our dorms from a late night out at a restaurant called Veranda. We had just walked back with Alice to her hotel, the Bayangol, and were making our way back up the street toward Sukhbaatar Square when we heard the roar of a crowd marching toward us. However, the general drone was accompanied by wild whistling and laughter, which suggested to us that it was a jubilant, pro-MPRP crowd rather than a belligerent mob. Fortunately for us, we were right, and the crowd passed by without incident. It was fairly remarkable though; there were 500+ people filling the road from one end to the other. Traffic came to a halt as the procession winded through the streets.
We made it back to the dorms safely, never having felt legitimately threatened. Demonstrations continued through the night and in the morning it appeared as though additional police forces had been deployed to the Square. However, I passed right by the Square in the morning after picking up coffee and at that time everything was calm. The entire workday proceeded without any indication that trouble was brewing. Even at six in the evening as I walked home, I had no sense that something was amiss. At seven Alice called and we made a plan to meet out in front of the UB Hotel, just east of the Square, in case another demonstration had begun. Approaching the hotel, I first realized that something was wrong. A large, roiling crowd had gathered out in front of the MPRP headquarters, adjacent to the UB Hotel. There was a large column of gray smoke rising out of the southeastern corner of the building, and when I looked more closely, I realized that protesters were hurling stones, concrete, and whatever other shrapnel they could get their hands on at the building. The meager police force stationed there responded in kind, and fired off rubber bullets as well. Growing nervous for my own safety, and for Alice's, I called her back, asking her to turn around and to instead meet me at Grand Khaan, a restaurant a safe distance southwest of the Square. No sooner had I hung up than I saw a large group of people rushing frantically toward me--or, more accurately, away from the MPRP building. I didn't wait to find out what exactly they were running from. Spinning on my heel, I sprinted away with them. However, I hadn't recognized the urgency of flight sufficiently soon, and within seconds I began to feel a powerful stinging in my eyes and a constrictive burning in my nose and throat. Looking around me as I ran, I saw people to my left and right holding their shirts up over their faces to filter out what could only be, I realized, tear gas.
Fortunately, I had been nowhere near the source of the gas, so I was able to sprint to safety relatively unharmed. The effects of the gas dissipated within minutes, so I began to work my way west, clear-headed but cautious. Looking back, I was able to see the flames rising from the base of the MPRP building.
I met Alice outside the Grand Khaan; we were both genuinely relieved to see one another safe, and bemused that less than an hour earlier we had been contentedly oblivious to the rising violence. Determining it unsafe to travel east, we wandered west in search of a place to get dinner. For the next couple of hours at Nayra Cafe, everything was calm--and normal--again. It wasn't until around 10 or 11, when we met up with a couple of friends at a bar south of there that we saw the live footage of the Square. Rioting, bonfires, burning buildings. While we felt safe inside the bar, we were wary of venturing back out into the open air. I was especially nervous, considering that in order to get back to my dorm I would either have to pass the Square directly or find an alternate route that would entail taking back alleys--which we all considered to be equally dangerous. Graciously, Alice offered to let me crash at the hotel (which was nearby and in the opposite direction of the Square), so I never had to make my way home last night. As we walked back to the Bayangol, we could see buildings and thick smoke illuminated by the many fires blazing throughout the Square. We checked the news repeatedly last night for any additional updates. This morning we discovered a note that the hotel staff had slid under the door, informing us that President Enkhbayar has declared a State of Emergency for the next four days. Among other things, this means that the police have imposed a 10 pm curfew for the city; looks like I won't be going out much for the rest of the week!
Walking back to my dorm this morning, the streets were eerily muted. Very little traffic passed by, and though there were many people on the sidewalks, discussions were hushed and dark if they were held at all. East of the square, I first witnessed the manifestation of the emergency decree: tanks. Military personnel have been deployed throughout the city and there are tanks stationed seemingly at every second intersection one passes. The MPRP building is charred and gutted, but it actually managed to survive in better shape than the nearby national art museum.
In case anyone is worried, I am safe. The city seems calm and the police and military are maintaining peace. I can't say with certainty that further protests won't break out, but for now I don't feel any serious threat of danger. So don't worry about me! We will take care of each other over here. More than likely, things will return to normal shortly and we'll ease right back into the daily grind. This weekend, though we had planned to celebrate the fourth of the July at the U.S. embassy weenie roast, it's looking like with the stress of the week, we're all more inclined to just get the hell out of UB. It's looking like Hustai National Park (with Przewalski's horses!!) is the place to be this weekend. I'll let you know how it is--and hopefully I'll figure out a way to upload some pictures! Stay well.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7483286.stm
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/asiapcf/07/01/mongolia.emergency.ap/index.html
Basically, Democratic Party (DP) supporters are alleging that the MPRP offered outrageously large bribes to members of the GEC in exchange for counts in their favor. Preliminary results show the MPRP claiming a solid majority in parliament--which yesterday incited large crowds of protesters to violence. I won't bother with any political analysis here; instead I'll just recount what little involvement I've had in the situation.
The demonstrations began Monday night, but at that time it wasn't clear whether there was any threat of violence. I first encountered large crowds as Emma and I walked back to our dorms from a late night out at a restaurant called Veranda. We had just walked back with Alice to her hotel, the Bayangol, and were making our way back up the street toward Sukhbaatar Square when we heard the roar of a crowd marching toward us. However, the general drone was accompanied by wild whistling and laughter, which suggested to us that it was a jubilant, pro-MPRP crowd rather than a belligerent mob. Fortunately for us, we were right, and the crowd passed by without incident. It was fairly remarkable though; there were 500+ people filling the road from one end to the other. Traffic came to a halt as the procession winded through the streets.
We made it back to the dorms safely, never having felt legitimately threatened. Demonstrations continued through the night and in the morning it appeared as though additional police forces had been deployed to the Square. However, I passed right by the Square in the morning after picking up coffee and at that time everything was calm. The entire workday proceeded without any indication that trouble was brewing. Even at six in the evening as I walked home, I had no sense that something was amiss. At seven Alice called and we made a plan to meet out in front of the UB Hotel, just east of the Square, in case another demonstration had begun. Approaching the hotel, I first realized that something was wrong. A large, roiling crowd had gathered out in front of the MPRP headquarters, adjacent to the UB Hotel. There was a large column of gray smoke rising out of the southeastern corner of the building, and when I looked more closely, I realized that protesters were hurling stones, concrete, and whatever other shrapnel they could get their hands on at the building. The meager police force stationed there responded in kind, and fired off rubber bullets as well. Growing nervous for my own safety, and for Alice's, I called her back, asking her to turn around and to instead meet me at Grand Khaan, a restaurant a safe distance southwest of the Square. No sooner had I hung up than I saw a large group of people rushing frantically toward me--or, more accurately, away from the MPRP building. I didn't wait to find out what exactly they were running from. Spinning on my heel, I sprinted away with them. However, I hadn't recognized the urgency of flight sufficiently soon, and within seconds I began to feel a powerful stinging in my eyes and a constrictive burning in my nose and throat. Looking around me as I ran, I saw people to my left and right holding their shirts up over their faces to filter out what could only be, I realized, tear gas.
Fortunately, I had been nowhere near the source of the gas, so I was able to sprint to safety relatively unharmed. The effects of the gas dissipated within minutes, so I began to work my way west, clear-headed but cautious. Looking back, I was able to see the flames rising from the base of the MPRP building.
I met Alice outside the Grand Khaan; we were both genuinely relieved to see one another safe, and bemused that less than an hour earlier we had been contentedly oblivious to the rising violence. Determining it unsafe to travel east, we wandered west in search of a place to get dinner. For the next couple of hours at Nayra Cafe, everything was calm--and normal--again. It wasn't until around 10 or 11, when we met up with a couple of friends at a bar south of there that we saw the live footage of the Square. Rioting, bonfires, burning buildings. While we felt safe inside the bar, we were wary of venturing back out into the open air. I was especially nervous, considering that in order to get back to my dorm I would either have to pass the Square directly or find an alternate route that would entail taking back alleys--which we all considered to be equally dangerous. Graciously, Alice offered to let me crash at the hotel (which was nearby and in the opposite direction of the Square), so I never had to make my way home last night. As we walked back to the Bayangol, we could see buildings and thick smoke illuminated by the many fires blazing throughout the Square. We checked the news repeatedly last night for any additional updates. This morning we discovered a note that the hotel staff had slid under the door, informing us that President Enkhbayar has declared a State of Emergency for the next four days. Among other things, this means that the police have imposed a 10 pm curfew for the city; looks like I won't be going out much for the rest of the week!
Walking back to my dorm this morning, the streets were eerily muted. Very little traffic passed by, and though there were many people on the sidewalks, discussions were hushed and dark if they were held at all. East of the square, I first witnessed the manifestation of the emergency decree: tanks. Military personnel have been deployed throughout the city and there are tanks stationed seemingly at every second intersection one passes. The MPRP building is charred and gutted, but it actually managed to survive in better shape than the nearby national art museum.
In case anyone is worried, I am safe. The city seems calm and the police and military are maintaining peace. I can't say with certainty that further protests won't break out, but for now I don't feel any serious threat of danger. So don't worry about me! We will take care of each other over here. More than likely, things will return to normal shortly and we'll ease right back into the daily grind. This weekend, though we had planned to celebrate the fourth of the July at the U.S. embassy weenie roast, it's looking like with the stress of the week, we're all more inclined to just get the hell out of UB. It's looking like Hustai National Park (with Przewalski's horses!!) is the place to be this weekend. I'll let you know how it is--and hopefully I'll figure out a way to upload some pictures! Stay well.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Hiking and other randomness
Hi all. Ben here again with another thrilling installment of Mongoliosity. Nearly a week has passed since my last update. No, I have not forgotten Mongoliosity; far from it. Rather, I have been so flambazzlin' busy that I haven't been afforded one opportunity since then to sit down and write another post. "Why," you ask? Meetings. Truckloads of them. Giant, steaming piles of meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting. In all of my years as a participating member of human society, the cumulative number of meetings I attended prior to Mongolia pales in comparison to the number of meetings I've attended since arriving here. We have met with EVERYBODY in town who has even the slightest relevance to the mining sector: World Bank, UNDP, Open Society Forum, Responsible Mining Initiative, Ivanhoe, LLX, MONAME...the list goes on. I feel as though I have been buried under a landslide of important information. And I love it, don't get me wrong! It just leaves me with very little time for blogging. Or anything else at all.
Fortunately, however, the meetings do stop for the weekends. (The work doesn't, though, as I'll describe in my next post). Saturday morning, Sarah, Burt, Mark and I hopped aboard the #7 bus and took it out past Zaisan to the penitentiary. This sounds morbid, yes, but the penitentiary is simply the final destination on the bus' southern route; we hiked around it and were soon up in hills. Words can scarcely describe the beauty of an otherwise unremarkable pastoral scene after having spent three weeks mired in the smog and dirt that coat UB. The air was so clean, we wished we could somehow capture some and save it for a particularly hazy day in the city. Further up the northern slope was generously vegetated with fir and birch trees, a variety of wild grasses, and a thick moss that carpeted a number of large rock slides. The area was also dotted with a variety of wildflowers, animal skulls, and, further down in the valley, styrofoam. Lots of styrofoam. Bizarre. While we rested atop a craggy ridge, the rain began to pour unexpectedly. Since I have no real rain gear to speak of, I used my umbrella to shield myself. Mark and Sarah mocked me, but Burt affirmed my choice--and all the more emphatically when everyone else discovered that they were soaked and I was not. As we returned through the valley, we passed by the Bogd Khan Ger Camp Resort, which was fully equipped with ritzy gers, statuary depicting fierce Mongolian warriors and their faithful beasts of burden, and a real-life two-humped Bactrian camel. Which I took lots of pictures of. Because it was freakin' cool. Also on the way back to the dorms, we stopped by a park at the base of the Zaisan hill, which featured an impressive 40 foot buddha with an exterior gilded in gold leaf. (Or so we think). Incongruously, at the north end of the buddha park, a couple of Mongolian ladies ran a stand selling American Hot Dogs coated in thicks layers of breading, french fry chunks, and grease. I passed on my chance to eat one, incidentally. Additional incongruity: east of the buddha park was a monument featuring a Soviet-era tank, and further that direction, a massive driving range.
Upon arriving back home, I made two glorious discoveries: (1) Laura and Kylie had returned and would be here for a week (!!), and (2) WE HAVE HOT WATER! Reveling in this second discovery, I took my first hot shower in over three weeks Saturday afternoon. Heavenly.
A last note: a new TAF summer associate showed up on Wednesday. Thank goodness, she's a West Coaster. She is cool and has been very gracious in entertaining us this past week--regardless of whether she's being subjected Thursday trivia at Dave's Place (fun) or Friday's round of the board game Settlers (mind-numbingly painful, dragged on hours longer than it should've).
I have run out of time for this post, so my recounting of yesterday's parliamentary election will have to wait until later. No worries--the experience deserves a post dedicated solely to itself. I'll get on that as soon as I can.
Fortunately, however, the meetings do stop for the weekends. (The work doesn't, though, as I'll describe in my next post). Saturday morning, Sarah, Burt, Mark and I hopped aboard the #7 bus and took it out past Zaisan to the penitentiary. This sounds morbid, yes, but the penitentiary is simply the final destination on the bus' southern route; we hiked around it and were soon up in hills. Words can scarcely describe the beauty of an otherwise unremarkable pastoral scene after having spent three weeks mired in the smog and dirt that coat UB. The air was so clean, we wished we could somehow capture some and save it for a particularly hazy day in the city. Further up the northern slope was generously vegetated with fir and birch trees, a variety of wild grasses, and a thick moss that carpeted a number of large rock slides. The area was also dotted with a variety of wildflowers, animal skulls, and, further down in the valley, styrofoam. Lots of styrofoam. Bizarre. While we rested atop a craggy ridge, the rain began to pour unexpectedly. Since I have no real rain gear to speak of, I used my umbrella to shield myself. Mark and Sarah mocked me, but Burt affirmed my choice--and all the more emphatically when everyone else discovered that they were soaked and I was not. As we returned through the valley, we passed by the Bogd Khan Ger Camp Resort, which was fully equipped with ritzy gers, statuary depicting fierce Mongolian warriors and their faithful beasts of burden, and a real-life two-humped Bactrian camel. Which I took lots of pictures of. Because it was freakin' cool. Also on the way back to the dorms, we stopped by a park at the base of the Zaisan hill, which featured an impressive 40 foot buddha with an exterior gilded in gold leaf. (Or so we think). Incongruously, at the north end of the buddha park, a couple of Mongolian ladies ran a stand selling American Hot Dogs coated in thicks layers of breading, french fry chunks, and grease. I passed on my chance to eat one, incidentally. Additional incongruity: east of the buddha park was a monument featuring a Soviet-era tank, and further that direction, a massive driving range.
Upon arriving back home, I made two glorious discoveries: (1) Laura and Kylie had returned and would be here for a week (!!), and (2) WE HAVE HOT WATER! Reveling in this second discovery, I took my first hot shower in over three weeks Saturday afternoon. Heavenly.
A last note: a new TAF summer associate showed up on Wednesday. Thank goodness, she's a West Coaster. She is cool and has been very gracious in entertaining us this past week--regardless of whether she's being subjected Thursday trivia at Dave's Place (fun) or Friday's round of the board game Settlers (mind-numbingly painful, dragged on hours longer than it should've).
I have run out of time for this post, so my recounting of yesterday's parliamentary election will have to wait until later. No worries--the experience deserves a post dedicated solely to itself. I'll get on that as soon as I can.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Quick post!
Hey all, it's been a while since my last post so I felt like I needed to get something new up. However, I don't have much time, as it is the end of a workday and I'm at the TAF office. Thus, I'll be brief. The weather here has been fairly insane over the past few days. Actually, the weather itself hasn't been the problem--the problem has been the lamentably poor capacity of the infrastructure in UB to withstand even a relatively minor change in weather. By all of this, of course, I mean that 1) it has been raining continuously for 3-4 days, 2) there is no adequate drainage in UB, and thus, 3) most streets have transformed into lakes filled with stagnant mud and sewage! Woo! Saturday the lakes were relatively small (back then they could still be classified as "puddles" and "pools"); by Sunday much of the city had flooded. Foolishly, I attempted to venture out into the madness Sunday--and was duly rebuked. I spent hours wandering around the city, turned away from one locked door after another (first the internet cafe was closed, then the coffee shop all the way across downtown was closed, then...), until I finally made my way to Baga Toiruu to discover that, mercifully, the German bakery remained open. I took refuge there from the madness for several hours, sipping coffee, studying a corporate finance textbook (WOO), and futilely wringing and re-wringing the endless rainwater from my socks. Frightful.
Since then the weather has calmed and the lakes receded somewhat. However, I feel sure that we haven't heard the last from the rain.
In other news, the past two days have been an endless blur of meetings, each one bleeding into the others. I have learned so much that my brain is bursting at the seams, but I think I had a breakthrough moment in my third meeting of the day today: my research topic is finally coming into focus. In a nutshell, there is a proposal in parliament (which is out of session at the moment in anticipation of the national elections on June 29) to take majority state ownership of mining deposits that are determined to be of "strategic importance." The definition of strategic deposits is somewhat hazy, but hazy or not, this has direct implications for a potentially world-class mining site called Oyu Tolgoi (OT) in Omnogobi aimag in southern Mongolia. Ivanhoe, a Canadian mining company that has spent the past 4-5 years exploring and developing the site, has yet to receive an official mining license for OT. The license is contigent upon parliamentary approval of an investment agreement that was drafted in early 2007 but has since stalled. The key question for Ivanhoe (and its investment partner, Rio Tinto) is whether proposed amendments to the Mining Law regarding state ownership will be passed--and what that will mean for Ivanhoe's stake in the OT project. The debate that unfolds over Mining Law amendments will be directly reflected in the fate of the OT project--which makes it a perfect case study for exploring the issue of state ownership of natural resources. Looks like I've got a plan.
The last bit of news is that I went to a dinner party on Saturday. Shelagh's husband barbecued roughly 100 pounds of meat, which (most of us) tore into voraciously. I myself enjoyed the better part of a whole chicken, plus about 40 oz. of beef. It was hearty--and lots of fun. Also that night I got the opportunity to play around with an iPhone, and noted that it gets excellent reception in UB. Apple is taking over the world.
The end!
Since then the weather has calmed and the lakes receded somewhat. However, I feel sure that we haven't heard the last from the rain.
In other news, the past two days have been an endless blur of meetings, each one bleeding into the others. I have learned so much that my brain is bursting at the seams, but I think I had a breakthrough moment in my third meeting of the day today: my research topic is finally coming into focus. In a nutshell, there is a proposal in parliament (which is out of session at the moment in anticipation of the national elections on June 29) to take majority state ownership of mining deposits that are determined to be of "strategic importance." The definition of strategic deposits is somewhat hazy, but hazy or not, this has direct implications for a potentially world-class mining site called Oyu Tolgoi (OT) in Omnogobi aimag in southern Mongolia. Ivanhoe, a Canadian mining company that has spent the past 4-5 years exploring and developing the site, has yet to receive an official mining license for OT. The license is contigent upon parliamentary approval of an investment agreement that was drafted in early 2007 but has since stalled. The key question for Ivanhoe (and its investment partner, Rio Tinto) is whether proposed amendments to the Mining Law regarding state ownership will be passed--and what that will mean for Ivanhoe's stake in the OT project. The debate that unfolds over Mining Law amendments will be directly reflected in the fate of the OT project--which makes it a perfect case study for exploring the issue of state ownership of natural resources. Looks like I've got a plan.
The last bit of news is that I went to a dinner party on Saturday. Shelagh's husband barbecued roughly 100 pounds of meat, which (most of us) tore into voraciously. I myself enjoyed the better part of a whole chicken, plus about 40 oz. of beef. It was hearty--and lots of fun. Also that night I got the opportunity to play around with an iPhone, and noted that it gets excellent reception in UB. Apple is taking over the world.
The end!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sad news
About an hour ago, I arrived at work and checked my email. In my inbox I discovered a message from Jeff Patterson, our Assistant Dean for Operations at LBJ, passing on the news that one of our fellow masters students, Jordan Nadler, had died of a seizure. I am shocked and saddened at the news of her passing; yet I can't begin to imagine the sense of loss that those truly close to her must feel. My condolences and sympathy go out to her friends, her boyfriend, and her family. From the admittedly brief amount of time I spent getting to know her, I was struck by her passion and her spirit. As my roommate, Ryan, puts it, "She knew what she believed, would debate it with you, but always in a fun but spirited manner." She was an incredible athlete, a dedicated student, and above all a committed servant to society. This summer she had taken a position with Teach for America in San Francisco--the organization was blessed to have her.
Since her passing was so abrupt, some of those who were close to her may regret that they were never afforded a chance to tell her how much they cared for before she left. I would urge them to take some solace in the fact that there was no way of knowing that this would come, and that I am sure that her faith in your love was implicit, whether you had told her yesterday or a year ago. That being said, this tragic loss should remind us all of how important it is share and reaffirm our love with others. So to all of my friends reading this blog: I care for you all deeply and am grateful for your continued support and friendship. Thank you for enriching my life in all the myriad ways that you do. And to my family: I love you all. Thank you for raising me to appreciate the importance of maintaining meaningful relationships from which to draw strength, compassion, and conviction.
My heart goes out to all those who have ever known and cared for Jordan.
Since her passing was so abrupt, some of those who were close to her may regret that they were never afforded a chance to tell her how much they cared for before she left. I would urge them to take some solace in the fact that there was no way of knowing that this would come, and that I am sure that her faith in your love was implicit, whether you had told her yesterday or a year ago. That being said, this tragic loss should remind us all of how important it is share and reaffirm our love with others. So to all of my friends reading this blog: I care for you all deeply and am grateful for your continued support and friendship. Thank you for enriching my life in all the myriad ways that you do. And to my family: I love you all. Thank you for raising me to appreciate the importance of maintaining meaningful relationships from which to draw strength, compassion, and conviction.
My heart goes out to all those who have ever known and cared for Jordan.
Break dance
Hey y'all. I last wrote on Sunday, and since then not much excitement has occurred worth writing about. Except for one really fantastic thing. Which I will get to momentarily.
Sunday, Mark and I discovered the utility and practicality of the common room kitchen, whipping up some pasta with red and green peppers, cheese, and herbs de provence. It was fairly magnifico. Inspired, I rushed out to the Sky Department Store on Monday afternoon post-work to buy more supplies and since have maintained a steady dinnertime diet of Korean noodles with peppers and mushrooms. This evening, to spice it up further, I ate a few pieces of nori and a slice of cheese. Outrageous, I know. Also, I finished the last of my Stella Artois, which was starting to get a little skunky at six months beyond its expiration date (yeah--they don't seem to care about expiration dates here so much). In other quotidian domestic news, I hauled my first load of laundry over to the local Metro Express, across from the Chinggis Hotel. In the future, if anyone ever contends that Mongolia is a third world country, remind them that UB just barely passes for "Mongolia"; the charge for two loads of laundry was 12,500 tugrugs, or almost 12 bucks USD. Call me crazy, but that's not really so cheap.
As for work, things have started to get fairly interesting. I am going ahead with the topic that I had mentioned on Sunday, although I think my research will probably incorporate some other related issues as well. On Monday I felt like I had just been thrown into the topic with no real bearings or leads. But since then I've managed to find a number of resources, which have developed the socio-politico-economic context for mining in Mongolia and address fiscal and ownership policy and regulation in the industry. Additionally, I've come across the names of a few people who may turn out to be valuable contacts. So in three days I've gone from being hopelessly under-informed to being buried under a landslide of information. Help(?)
Yesterday another summer associate, Emily, and I shared an interesting observation over lunch (at this amazing Chinese restaurant--seriously, I'll get you the name and address in case you're ever in UB--they even had hot running water in the sink; first time I'd felt hot running water in 12 days!--fantastic). The observation was this: thanks to the nature of our jobs, which involve spending long hours in an office conducting research, and the advent of broadband technology, our experience, for long stretches of time throughout the day...doesn't really differ all that much from daily life back in the United States. We paused upon reaching this realization. Don't most Americans envision Mongolia as lying at the farthest, remotest end of the earth? Doesn't the country comprise, for the most part, a vast, open wilderness where one can travel for days at a time without seeing another human being? Well, yes, actually--that description is right on target, for much of the country. But UB, in many respects, is a modern, thriving city, well-connected to the outside world. And, honestly, conducting research over the internet in an office in Ulaanbaatar feels pretty much the same as conducting research on the second floor of Foley Library or in the LBJ computer lab. On the few other international trips I've ever made--all of which have been to more economically developed countries than Mongolia--I've always felt more disconnected from home, further away, than I do now. And yet I've never been further, in a physical or cultural sense! It's powerful to realize that for many of us, the internet has become so much a routine part of our environment that despite its virtual nature it is imbued with the same degree of familiarity as our living room might be. Further, it's almost baffling to think that over the course of the last week, I've held conversations (via G-chat) with friends in family in such disparate places as Washington State; Washington, DC; Los Angeles; Austin; Nairobi; New Dehli; and northern Thailand. Halfway across the globe in far-off, foreign land, and yet I am able to spend my lunch break hearing about the latest preparations for my sister's wedding from my mom, or how a friend was just in a car accident but, thank goodness, is just fine. It's almost...too easy. Not that I'm complaining! But I can only imagine that life for expats here must have been very different not more than five to ten years ago.
One last note before signing out: Mark and I stopped in Sukhbaatar Square today where a crowd was gathering to watch none other than...Mongolian breakdancers. No shit. And they were GOOD. It was spectacular to watch. Then afterward, just for fun, Mark and I went up to talk to them. The leader of the crew spoke pretty decent English, so Mark asked him if he knew any capuera. He said he did, so he and Mark performed their own little impromptu capuera session, which drew another crowd. It was pretty cool; all I had to do was stand there and I just looked cool by association.
That's all for tonight; most of you on the west coast are probably just getting up, but it is time for me to hit the hay! See you again in a few days.
Sunday, Mark and I discovered the utility and practicality of the common room kitchen, whipping up some pasta with red and green peppers, cheese, and herbs de provence. It was fairly magnifico. Inspired, I rushed out to the Sky Department Store on Monday afternoon post-work to buy more supplies and since have maintained a steady dinnertime diet of Korean noodles with peppers and mushrooms. This evening, to spice it up further, I ate a few pieces of nori and a slice of cheese. Outrageous, I know. Also, I finished the last of my Stella Artois, which was starting to get a little skunky at six months beyond its expiration date (yeah--they don't seem to care about expiration dates here so much). In other quotidian domestic news, I hauled my first load of laundry over to the local Metro Express, across from the Chinggis Hotel. In the future, if anyone ever contends that Mongolia is a third world country, remind them that UB just barely passes for "Mongolia"; the charge for two loads of laundry was 12,500 tugrugs, or almost 12 bucks USD. Call me crazy, but that's not really so cheap.
As for work, things have started to get fairly interesting. I am going ahead with the topic that I had mentioned on Sunday, although I think my research will probably incorporate some other related issues as well. On Monday I felt like I had just been thrown into the topic with no real bearings or leads. But since then I've managed to find a number of resources, which have developed the socio-politico-economic context for mining in Mongolia and address fiscal and ownership policy and regulation in the industry. Additionally, I've come across the names of a few people who may turn out to be valuable contacts. So in three days I've gone from being hopelessly under-informed to being buried under a landslide of information. Help(?)
Yesterday another summer associate, Emily, and I shared an interesting observation over lunch (at this amazing Chinese restaurant--seriously, I'll get you the name and address in case you're ever in UB--they even had hot running water in the sink; first time I'd felt hot running water in 12 days!--fantastic). The observation was this: thanks to the nature of our jobs, which involve spending long hours in an office conducting research, and the advent of broadband technology, our experience, for long stretches of time throughout the day...doesn't really differ all that much from daily life back in the United States. We paused upon reaching this realization. Don't most Americans envision Mongolia as lying at the farthest, remotest end of the earth? Doesn't the country comprise, for the most part, a vast, open wilderness where one can travel for days at a time without seeing another human being? Well, yes, actually--that description is right on target, for much of the country. But UB, in many respects, is a modern, thriving city, well-connected to the outside world. And, honestly, conducting research over the internet in an office in Ulaanbaatar feels pretty much the same as conducting research on the second floor of Foley Library or in the LBJ computer lab. On the few other international trips I've ever made--all of which have been to more economically developed countries than Mongolia--I've always felt more disconnected from home, further away, than I do now. And yet I've never been further, in a physical or cultural sense! It's powerful to realize that for many of us, the internet has become so much a routine part of our environment that despite its virtual nature it is imbued with the same degree of familiarity as our living room might be. Further, it's almost baffling to think that over the course of the last week, I've held conversations (via G-chat) with friends in family in such disparate places as Washington State; Washington, DC; Los Angeles; Austin; Nairobi; New Dehli; and northern Thailand. Halfway across the globe in far-off, foreign land, and yet I am able to spend my lunch break hearing about the latest preparations for my sister's wedding from my mom, or how a friend was just in a car accident but, thank goodness, is just fine. It's almost...too easy. Not that I'm complaining! But I can only imagine that life for expats here must have been very different not more than five to ten years ago.
One last note before signing out: Mark and I stopped in Sukhbaatar Square today where a crowd was gathering to watch none other than...Mongolian breakdancers. No shit. And they were GOOD. It was spectacular to watch. Then afterward, just for fun, Mark and I went up to talk to them. The leader of the crew spoke pretty decent English, so Mark asked him if he knew any capuera. He said he did, so he and Mark performed their own little impromptu capuera session, which drew another crowd. It was pretty cool; all I had to do was stand there and I just looked cool by association.
That's all for tonight; most of you on the west coast are probably just getting up, but it is time for me to hit the hay! See you again in a few days.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Basketball
One other thing I thought to mention: they love basketball here. It's kind of crazy. There is a basketball court outside my dorm room and they play from like 9 am to midnight, constantly. And the kids out there are really good--they would school me if I tried to play with them. Crap. Also, there's random graffiti all over town of NBA stars' names. For example, on the way up the stairs to the TAF apartment LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, and Tracy McGrady are immortalized. And at NUM there was a GIGANTIC poster of Allen Iverson hanging in what appeared to be an administrative office. Wha?
Lazy Sunday afternoon
Hello again from Ulaanbaatar! It's Sunday afternoon here (making it around 10 PM Saturday on the West coast) and I have Mark's computer for the next few hours so it's time for another installment of Mongoliosity. I am pleased to announce that on Thursday afternoon our science-and-ed based orientation came to a close and the law and policy group was able to meet with the Securing our Future (SOF) project manager for the first time. She is very motivated and well connected with the Who's-Who in UB, so I think she'll be an excellent manager to work for.
I haven't written anything much on the content of our orientation yet, so (despite its being over already) I'll mention a few interesting details. Our four-day orientation focused on teaching us the basics of freshwater ecology in Mongolia. The background information we received was valuable to each of the associates, but obviously more so for the science and education associates. (In case I haven't made it clear, there are three different types of "associates," as they call us, involved in the SOF program this summer--Law and Policy, Science, and Education. L&P associates, like me, will mostly be researching selected topics; Science will be out in the field most of the summer doing water quality sampling and analysis; and Ed folks will split their time between UB and the countryside at various schools, demonstrating for science teachers something called a benthic macroinvertebrate (BMI) water quality test.) The first two days we were cooped up in a small conference room in a hotel near Sukhbaatar Square, but on Wednesday we all took a van out to a site on the Tuul River a few km outside of UB and spent the day assessing the physical habitat of the river site and running BMI tests. Running a BMI test involves thoroughly disturbing the rocks and sediment in the river bed at a particular point in the river and catching the benthic macroinvertebrates (bugs) that are kicked up in fine mesh net. Once the "kick" part of the test is complete, then the tedious part begins (or fun part, depending on your perspective): identifying each of the bugs at the order level and counting them. Woo. We looked at lots of stoneflies and mayflies, let me tell you. We also had quite a few runs-in with stray dogs, goat herds, grazing cattle, wild (?) horses, and curious onlookers. All in all, it was pretty fun.
Thursday we went to the National University of Mongolia (commonly known as NUM--num num!) to hear a lecture on Mongolian ecology from a delightful gentleman from the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia. Right before lunch we examined specimens that we'd collected the day before under microscopes. It was a pleasant combination.
In the afternoon the L&P folks split from the others and our boss presented us with a list of research topics that TAF wants more information on and I am particularly interested in one that deals with government majority-share ownership in mining operations in Mongolia. The research will involve looking both at Mongolian laws on ownership and government structure and at cases in which other governments have attempted similar actions. I don't know much beyond that preliminary description; more details will follow in future posts.
On Friday the law and policy associates attended a multi-stakeholder meeting hosted by TAF at the UB Hotel. Several dozen representatives from Mongolian NGOs and community-based organizations were also in attendance. Aside from an introduction by TAF's country representative in Mongolia, and a short closing statement by my boss, the meeting was conducted entirely in Mongolian. This required us non-Mongolian speakers to hold an ear piece in our ears for roughly three hours in order to follow a simultaneous English translation. I found the whole process to be intriguing but also slightly frustrating, as I am still relatively uninitiated into the world of Mongolian mining policy and the translation was spotty at points. Oh, and holding that damn ear piece in place for hours on end became fairly annoying. I think my ears were too small for it; other people seemed to have no trouble just wedging it in and leaving it there, but mine fell out the second I took my hand off of it.
Yesterday I ventured forth into UB to do some more exploring on my own. This city is chock-full of delightful surprises if you just take a little time to root them out. As I wandered down Baga Toiruu aimlessly, I happened upon a little bakery called Backerei Conditorei Cafe which served tasty sandwiches, fresh-baked pastries, and hot, sumptuous brewed coffee. Real coffee!! Marvelous.
Hm, I'm not sure that there's any real flow or continuity to this post. I apologize. But in that spirit, now seems an appropriate time to end it, with no warning or concluding thoughts whatsoever. Bye for now!
I haven't written anything much on the content of our orientation yet, so (despite its being over already) I'll mention a few interesting details. Our four-day orientation focused on teaching us the basics of freshwater ecology in Mongolia. The background information we received was valuable to each of the associates, but obviously more so for the science and education associates. (In case I haven't made it clear, there are three different types of "associates," as they call us, involved in the SOF program this summer--Law and Policy, Science, and Education. L&P associates, like me, will mostly be researching selected topics; Science will be out in the field most of the summer doing water quality sampling and analysis; and Ed folks will split their time between UB and the countryside at various schools, demonstrating for science teachers something called a benthic macroinvertebrate (BMI) water quality test.) The first two days we were cooped up in a small conference room in a hotel near Sukhbaatar Square, but on Wednesday we all took a van out to a site on the Tuul River a few km outside of UB and spent the day assessing the physical habitat of the river site and running BMI tests. Running a BMI test involves thoroughly disturbing the rocks and sediment in the river bed at a particular point in the river and catching the benthic macroinvertebrates (bugs) that are kicked up in fine mesh net. Once the "kick" part of the test is complete, then the tedious part begins (or fun part, depending on your perspective): identifying each of the bugs at the order level and counting them. Woo. We looked at lots of stoneflies and mayflies, let me tell you. We also had quite a few runs-in with stray dogs, goat herds, grazing cattle, wild (?) horses, and curious onlookers. All in all, it was pretty fun.
Thursday we went to the National University of Mongolia (commonly known as NUM--num num!) to hear a lecture on Mongolian ecology from a delightful gentleman from the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia. Right before lunch we examined specimens that we'd collected the day before under microscopes. It was a pleasant combination.
In the afternoon the L&P folks split from the others and our boss presented us with a list of research topics that TAF wants more information on and I am particularly interested in one that deals with government majority-share ownership in mining operations in Mongolia. The research will involve looking both at Mongolian laws on ownership and government structure and at cases in which other governments have attempted similar actions. I don't know much beyond that preliminary description; more details will follow in future posts.
On Friday the law and policy associates attended a multi-stakeholder meeting hosted by TAF at the UB Hotel. Several dozen representatives from Mongolian NGOs and community-based organizations were also in attendance. Aside from an introduction by TAF's country representative in Mongolia, and a short closing statement by my boss, the meeting was conducted entirely in Mongolian. This required us non-Mongolian speakers to hold an ear piece in our ears for roughly three hours in order to follow a simultaneous English translation. I found the whole process to be intriguing but also slightly frustrating, as I am still relatively uninitiated into the world of Mongolian mining policy and the translation was spotty at points. Oh, and holding that damn ear piece in place for hours on end became fairly annoying. I think my ears were too small for it; other people seemed to have no trouble just wedging it in and leaving it there, but mine fell out the second I took my hand off of it.
Yesterday I ventured forth into UB to do some more exploring on my own. This city is chock-full of delightful surprises if you just take a little time to root them out. As I wandered down Baga Toiruu aimlessly, I happened upon a little bakery called Backerei Conditorei Cafe which served tasty sandwiches, fresh-baked pastries, and hot, sumptuous brewed coffee. Real coffee!! Marvelous.
Hm, I'm not sure that there's any real flow or continuity to this post. I apologize. But in that spirit, now seems an appropriate time to end it, with no warning or concluding thoughts whatsoever. Bye for now!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Random observations
I don't have much time to post today, as I have a meeting to be at in under an hour. But I will leave you with a few noteworthy observations about UB:
Traffic. The streets here are Soviet-style, mile-wide behemoths, and every time I have to cross one it's like playing a real-life game of Frogger. Traffic signals are trivial annoyances to drivers, who brake only for larger cars. Within the first couple of days I had to become very comfortable with the idea of wandering out into the middle of a busy street and identifying the narrow gaps between alternating traffic lanes where I am least likely to be rammed by an oncoming grill.
Weather. The weather is crazily unpredictable here. The first few days that we were here, the temperature hung around the high 80s/low 90s. Then, out of the blue yesterday, the temperature dropped into the 30s and I went from t-shirt and shorts to heavy coat, scarf, etc. Today, not 12 hours later, it again blazingly hot. WTF. Also, on related note, the pollution is kind of insane. Some days it's so hazy from both smog and sand that it's difficult to make anything out half a mile down the road. Today it's refreshingly clear, but who knows what tomorrow will bring!
Eclectic. I feel like that adjective best describes the strange mix of architecture, infrastructure, and language that constitute the cityscape here. Buildings alternate between Soviet concrete blocks, Buddhist monasteries, and ultramodern glassy skyscrapers. Signs are plastered with a confusing mixture of traditional Mongolian script, cyrillic, and English. And streets and sidewalks are paved in 1,001 different ways, alternating every 100 feet. The only thing that remains constant from block to block is potholes and crumbling concrete. Oh also, there are many Mongolian restaurants here, but Western travelers certainly need not resign themselves to weeks and weeks of mutton, as there are also a great variety of moderately delicious international choices as well. We've already enjoyed pizza and hamburgers (recipes slightly tweaked) this week, so it hasn't been quite as much of a culture shock as I had expected. I still have yet to enjoy a real cup of coffee, though. Oh how I crave it!
That's all I have time for now. Stay well!
Traffic. The streets here are Soviet-style, mile-wide behemoths, and every time I have to cross one it's like playing a real-life game of Frogger. Traffic signals are trivial annoyances to drivers, who brake only for larger cars. Within the first couple of days I had to become very comfortable with the idea of wandering out into the middle of a busy street and identifying the narrow gaps between alternating traffic lanes where I am least likely to be rammed by an oncoming grill.
Weather. The weather is crazily unpredictable here. The first few days that we were here, the temperature hung around the high 80s/low 90s. Then, out of the blue yesterday, the temperature dropped into the 30s and I went from t-shirt and shorts to heavy coat, scarf, etc. Today, not 12 hours later, it again blazingly hot. WTF. Also, on related note, the pollution is kind of insane. Some days it's so hazy from both smog and sand that it's difficult to make anything out half a mile down the road. Today it's refreshingly clear, but who knows what tomorrow will bring!
Eclectic. I feel like that adjective best describes the strange mix of architecture, infrastructure, and language that constitute the cityscape here. Buildings alternate between Soviet concrete blocks, Buddhist monasteries, and ultramodern glassy skyscrapers. Signs are plastered with a confusing mixture of traditional Mongolian script, cyrillic, and English. And streets and sidewalks are paved in 1,001 different ways, alternating every 100 feet. The only thing that remains constant from block to block is potholes and crumbling concrete. Oh also, there are many Mongolian restaurants here, but Western travelers certainly need not resign themselves to weeks and weeks of mutton, as there are also a great variety of moderately delicious international choices as well. We've already enjoyed pizza and hamburgers (recipes slightly tweaked) this week, so it hasn't been quite as much of a culture shock as I had expected. I still have yet to enjoy a real cup of coffee, though. Oh how I crave it!
That's all I have time for now. Stay well!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Greetings from Ulaanbaatar!
Greetings, all! I write this blog post from an internet cafe just east of the central square in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. The local time here is 5 pm on Sunday, which makes it 3 am in Austin and 1 am back on the west coast. The trip to Mongolia was loooooong and exhausting, but mostly without event. I left Seattle for LA at around 4 pm on Thursday. My layover in LA was long enough that I was able to leave the airport and grab dinner and drinks with Linda before hopping on my red-eye to Beijing. Following the 12-hour, 40-minute flight, I was deposited in the heart of the Beijing airport's brand-new, eye-poppingly extravagant terminal three, where I enjoyed a beef udon lunch at the seemingly incongruous local time of 6 am. When I arrived in UB, the Asia Foundation (TAF) had sent a couple of friendly staff out to meet me and drive me back to my dorm building. Turns out I'm staying a rather fancy apartment with its own bathroom. However, I haven't yet been able to get any hot water--nor has anyone else, as far as I'm aware--which means I'll likely spend the next ten weeks sponging myself with lukewarm sink water from a tub. (If you're interested in the details, ask me and I'll explain at greater length; I've already bought the tub, and I expect it will be a thrilling process).
Shortly after getting settled in, I met the first of my new summer associate partners, Mark. He and I ventured out in search of Mongolian food, which we successfully secured after wandering randomly for some time. It was a somewhat tricky process; not only do neither of us understand a lick of Mongolian, it is written using the Cyrillic script, which poses an additional obstacle to our understanding even the most basic of words. After returning to our building, we were both fairly tired, and decided to take a mid-afternoon nap. What began as an innocent snooze around 3 PM Saturday, however, became a 14-hour marathon sleep that finally ended at 5 AM this morning. Absurd.
As nothing in UB opens before 10 AM on Sundays, I had a lot of time to kill, which I spent variously studying Mongolian language basics, roaming the sparsely-populated streets, and starving. I met up with Mark later in the morning, and we took a trip to the state department store, where we did some grocery shopping for fundamentals (bread, shampoo, beer). As a side note, it really is remarkable that despite the unfamiliar nature of nearly everything on the streets here, from the people to the language to the crumbling Soviet infrastructure, a bottle of Pantene Pro-V is as readily available here as in any drug store in the States. In support of that point, the clerk here is currently playing a song featuring Mariah Carey and Nelly that I don't even recognize, probably because it is so new. Since when are people halfway across the world more in tune with American pop culture than an American? One final story: as Mark and I approached the department store today, we were accosted by a group of small children who insistently demanded that we relinquish our "Money! Money!!". When we declined, they saw fit to douse us repeatedly with their water bottles. We tried to escape, but they were persistent little bastards. We did get the last laugh, however; Mark managed to grab the bottle from one of the kids and douse him right back. It was awesome.
That's all for now. Fewer long-winded posts in the future. I promise! Hope all is well back home, or in whichever part of the world you're currently residing.
Shortly after getting settled in, I met the first of my new summer associate partners, Mark. He and I ventured out in search of Mongolian food, which we successfully secured after wandering randomly for some time. It was a somewhat tricky process; not only do neither of us understand a lick of Mongolian, it is written using the Cyrillic script, which poses an additional obstacle to our understanding even the most basic of words. After returning to our building, we were both fairly tired, and decided to take a mid-afternoon nap. What began as an innocent snooze around 3 PM Saturday, however, became a 14-hour marathon sleep that finally ended at 5 AM this morning. Absurd.
As nothing in UB opens before 10 AM on Sundays, I had a lot of time to kill, which I spent variously studying Mongolian language basics, roaming the sparsely-populated streets, and starving. I met up with Mark later in the morning, and we took a trip to the state department store, where we did some grocery shopping for fundamentals (bread, shampoo, beer). As a side note, it really is remarkable that despite the unfamiliar nature of nearly everything on the streets here, from the people to the language to the crumbling Soviet infrastructure, a bottle of Pantene Pro-V is as readily available here as in any drug store in the States. In support of that point, the clerk here is currently playing a song featuring Mariah Carey and Nelly that I don't even recognize, probably because it is so new. Since when are people halfway across the world more in tune with American pop culture than an American? One final story: as Mark and I approached the department store today, we were accosted by a group of small children who insistently demanded that we relinquish our "Money! Money!!". When we declined, they saw fit to douse us repeatedly with their water bottles. We tried to escape, but they were persistent little bastards. We did get the last laugh, however; Mark managed to grab the bottle from one of the kids and douse him right back. It was awesome.
That's all for now. Fewer long-winded posts in the future. I promise! Hope all is well back home, or in whichever part of the world you're currently residing.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
First post!
Hi everyone. This first post is just a test to ensure that this blog I'm blogging is blogging properly. Actually, I haven't even left the States yet. I will check back in over the weekend, once I've reached Ulaanbaatar (UB). Ciao!
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