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
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