The title was that or "pop culture popped," but that one didn't make as much sense as it did in my head.
Through sheer luck, or a lack of it, we have cable television. There are a handful of English channels: AXN, Cinemax, HBO, Cartoon Network, Star World, Nickelodean, CNN, BBC, and MTV. We also get a bunch of Mongolian channels, or did before the media blackout brought us down to only getting the state channel. This has allowed us to keep up with the western world thanks to up-to-the-minute news coverage. This has also allowed me to watch "Friends" and become acquainted with a form of American pop-culture I knew existed, but never had more contact with than a commuter relationship. I would pass it on the street, we'd make brief eyecontact, but we'd never have a moment.
I now know "where my party people at," and don't even complain about the use of the word "at" at the end of the sentence. I can sing along to "Girlfriend," use lines from "Take a Bow" in everyday conversation, and drop appropriately to the Flo Rida song "Low." I've watched Punk'd and have even finally seen an episode of "The Real World." Utt is my new homeboy. He's ever replaced Chinggis. (Or not.)
Yeah, I'm cool like that.
Warren Ellis, British writer, once said that "you can learn everything you need to know about a culture through their television," or something like that. This is true. I've learned a lot about a bit of Americana that I rejected back in 7th grade cause I was "too smart" to "waste my time" with "such nonsense." Now, I think I wasted a lot of effort trying to -not- learn who the members of N*Sync were and have realized that, while Justin Timberlake does still sound kind of like pre-pubescent boy, his songs are kind of catchy.
Plus, there's all the music videos.
MTV Asia, the one we get, is full of music videos. I love music videos. They play the same ones except in special countdowns--an 80's and 90's Countdown, for example. I'm pretty sick of the "hip hop" countdown. If I never have to hear "Love (In This Club)" again I'll be pretty happy. I think Scarlett Johansson should stick to acting and that the video to "Warwick Avenue," Duffy, is pretty lame. Occasionally there's a real treat, like Vampire Weekend's "Oxford Comma" or Fallout Boy and John Mayer covering "Beat It," which is just totally weird.
A lot of this stuff has, in my experience, been replaced by the internet in America. This is one of those cultural differences, or just might be a part of my culture. If you want a long rant on these matters, such as why internet killed the [music] video star, hit me up. I won't wax philosophic on it now, it's just a waste of space. And time.
Cause, come on, we've only got four minutes to save the world.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Ten Days in Five Parts, Molly
Introduction:
I have a lot to say about our time in the countryside. It was one of those experiences that changes a person--much like this whole trip. I have lots of ideas rolling around in my head, but my mom said she was going to check the blog, so I felt the need to write something. Therefore, I offer you a silly story, a serious story, and two poems.
Part Two, a Silly Story,
After wearing hiking boots for several days, my shoes weren't smelling so great. I decided I'd give them a break and wear my flipflops. It was sunny, we'd be in the van most of the day, it'd be fun. Then it started to rain. Then we were lost in the rain. Then we came to a muddy hill we needed to conquer in order to get unlost. Our van, a beautiful whale of a creature named "Grace," could not climb this hill alone. So we pushed. Well, my hiking boots, disgusting monsters they'd become, were packed up in my bag, hidden somewhere in the massive piles of luggage. I pushed in the flipflops. They didn't work so well and my feet kept sliding out, so eventually I gave up. Not pushing, mind you, just with the flipflops. I left them in the mud behind the van. We get to the top, leave the van, go down, push up the other van (there were two), and the process is about the same. My legs are pretty much mud. I look like a rejected incarnation of the Swamp thing. My clothing is splatted from the van wheels pelting me with mud because I was the genius who decided to stand behind them. I have a flower in my hair ("chichikeen tinger tsetseg"--little blue flower) that has been devolved back to "mud." But I smiled, pleased with myself for helping to push not one, but two vans up a steep, muddy hill in my bare feet.
We all piled back into the vans, went about twenty feet, and then were told "Oops, wrong way!" We drove back down the hill and I explained irony to the girls. (The trip was twenty Mongolian girls--coincidentally the junior psych class at MYIC is all girls, four drivers, three professors, and Michael and me. More details later.)
Part Three, A Serious Story
This isn't as much a story as a paragraph. Most nights it was cold and raining. One night it was just cold. We were on top of a mountain. We set up camp in the dark. We were tired, miserable, and wanted to sleep. I take a moment to wander off on my own to brush my teeth, with plans to trundle myself back to the tent to curl up and sleep. Tired. Hungry. Then I look up. Big mistake.
I have never seen a bigger, clearer sky in my life. There were so many stars I couldn't pick out my favorite constellation. I fought with my memory to name the stars, but the handful I had grown up with were washed out by all the rest. I'd look for one, my eyes would focus, and then I would see a hundred more.
I saw the Milky Way.
The sky never turned black, but instead was the blue of Superman's hair in the old comics. The darkest blue I've ever seen. There were glowing clouds across the sky, like someone spilled silver paint and smudged it in attempts to clean it off. Constellations got lost below the horizon line. I've never seen so many stars at once.
All the cliches about the night sky are true. I guess that's how they become cliches. It was one of those things so amazing, to quote Miss Anna Quider, that if you keep it to yourself you're going to explode because it's too big to stuff inside of yourself. I got my Japanese-savvy Mongolian friend and we told each other stories, in Japanese spotted with broken English and Mongolian, about the stars. She told me about the Seven Gods, the fixed star, horses that ran across space. I told her about the Great Bear, Cassiopeia, the Seven Sisters, and American slaves.
Parts Four and Five, Poems
The two most important things I had with me on this trip were my stuff sack and my bandana. They were so important I wrote poems about both of them.
Ode to My Stuff Sack
Oh, stuff sack,
Black.
Waterproof.
eating up all of my things,
Holding them inside--
(the best way to carry anything).
Closing your mouth
around
My life, what I need
to Survive.
Bandana
My bandana is red
It can hold:
my hair, water, my bowl and spoon.
It can protect:
my face, my lungs, my eyes.
It can repair:
my ankle, my wrist, my bag.
I have a lot to say about our time in the countryside. It was one of those experiences that changes a person--much like this whole trip. I have lots of ideas rolling around in my head, but my mom said she was going to check the blog, so I felt the need to write something. Therefore, I offer you a silly story, a serious story, and two poems.
Part Two, a Silly Story,
After wearing hiking boots for several days, my shoes weren't smelling so great. I decided I'd give them a break and wear my flipflops. It was sunny, we'd be in the van most of the day, it'd be fun. Then it started to rain. Then we were lost in the rain. Then we came to a muddy hill we needed to conquer in order to get unlost. Our van, a beautiful whale of a creature named "Grace," could not climb this hill alone. So we pushed. Well, my hiking boots, disgusting monsters they'd become, were packed up in my bag, hidden somewhere in the massive piles of luggage. I pushed in the flipflops. They didn't work so well and my feet kept sliding out, so eventually I gave up. Not pushing, mind you, just with the flipflops. I left them in the mud behind the van. We get to the top, leave the van, go down, push up the other van (there were two), and the process is about the same. My legs are pretty much mud. I look like a rejected incarnation of the Swamp thing. My clothing is splatted from the van wheels pelting me with mud because I was the genius who decided to stand behind them. I have a flower in my hair ("chichikeen tinger tsetseg"--little blue flower) that has been devolved back to "mud." But I smiled, pleased with myself for helping to push not one, but two vans up a steep, muddy hill in my bare feet.
We all piled back into the vans, went about twenty feet, and then were told "Oops, wrong way!" We drove back down the hill and I explained irony to the girls. (The trip was twenty Mongolian girls--coincidentally the junior psych class at MYIC is all girls, four drivers, three professors, and Michael and me. More details later.)
Part Three, A Serious Story
This isn't as much a story as a paragraph. Most nights it was cold and raining. One night it was just cold. We were on top of a mountain. We set up camp in the dark. We were tired, miserable, and wanted to sleep. I take a moment to wander off on my own to brush my teeth, with plans to trundle myself back to the tent to curl up and sleep. Tired. Hungry. Then I look up. Big mistake.
I have never seen a bigger, clearer sky in my life. There were so many stars I couldn't pick out my favorite constellation. I fought with my memory to name the stars, but the handful I had grown up with were washed out by all the rest. I'd look for one, my eyes would focus, and then I would see a hundred more.
I saw the Milky Way.
The sky never turned black, but instead was the blue of Superman's hair in the old comics. The darkest blue I've ever seen. There were glowing clouds across the sky, like someone spilled silver paint and smudged it in attempts to clean it off. Constellations got lost below the horizon line. I've never seen so many stars at once.
All the cliches about the night sky are true. I guess that's how they become cliches. It was one of those things so amazing, to quote Miss Anna Quider, that if you keep it to yourself you're going to explode because it's too big to stuff inside of yourself. I got my Japanese-savvy Mongolian friend and we told each other stories, in Japanese spotted with broken English and Mongolian, about the stars. She told me about the Seven Gods, the fixed star, horses that ran across space. I told her about the Great Bear, Cassiopeia, the Seven Sisters, and American slaves.
Parts Four and Five, Poems
The two most important things I had with me on this trip were my stuff sack and my bandana. They were so important I wrote poems about both of them.
Ode to My Stuff Sack
Oh, stuff sack,
Black.
Waterproof.
eating up all of my things,
Holding them inside--
(the best way to carry anything).
Closing your mouth
around
My life, what I need
to Survive.
Bandana
My bandana is red
It can hold:
my hair, water, my bowl and spoon.
It can protect:
my face, my lungs, my eyes.
It can repair:
my ankle, my wrist, my bag.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
a few pictures
Hi!
I generally think it is better that I stay off the blog, otherwise it becomes a long list of reasons that Mongolia was better in the "good old days". I just sound old and everyone is bored. I do, however, have a few pictures to contribute....
First: The last time that we saw Amber. This picture is good proof of who she is with. her driver is the man in the hat sitting in the background. Amber is in the red shirt, Taylor in green and Alli in the black t-shirt. The truck? that's what we sent amber off in. Dont worry too much, she got to ride in the cab while all of the Mongolian students crammed in the back.
Second: Group tour of Erdenet mine. You can see the open pit in the background. The students are clustered around a rock with a high copper content.
Third: Alli and Munkhtegsh (a wonderful lady from the foreign studies office at the National University) display 2 of the 4 varieties of choco-pies.
A breif note: PLEASE DO NOT panic if your favorite pitt student is not in these pictures! They were taken over the last weekend while 4 of our class members were on thier own research trips.
I generally think it is better that I stay off the blog, otherwise it becomes a long list of reasons that Mongolia was better in the "good old days". I just sound old and everyone is bored. I do, however, have a few pictures to contribute....
First: The last time that we saw Amber. This picture is good proof of who she is with. her driver is the man in the hat sitting in the background. Amber is in the red shirt, Taylor in green and Alli in the black t-shirt. The truck? that's what we sent amber off in. Dont worry too much, she got to ride in the cab while all of the Mongolian students crammed in the back.
Second: Group tour of Erdenet mine. You can see the open pit in the background. The students are clustered around a rock with a high copper content.
Third: Alli and Munkhtegsh (a wonderful lady from the foreign studies office at the National University) display 2 of the 4 varieties of choco-pies.
A breif note: PLEASE DO NOT panic if your favorite pitt student is not in these pictures! They were taken over the last weekend while 4 of our class members were on thier own research trips.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Whereabouts
For all of those following our trip with the blog, it may be hard to distinguish where everyone is and what they are doing. Here is a current breakdown of what everyone is up to:
Amber: Went to the countryside for an archaeological dig. She changed locations after being kicked out by locals, and is currently at a new location (near Kharahorin). She will leave separately from the group if they extend the dig, and will return to UB on June 29th. If they finish the dig on schedule she will finish with the group and return around July 6th.
Emily: Yesterday she received a phone call at 9:30am to leave for the countryside at 10:30am! She is with a group led by an ecology professor from the National University of Mongolia, who knows quite a bit about the relationship between tourism and the environment. She is located fairly close to UB, and I think will be gone for about 10 days.
Michael/Molly: Yesterday as we were leaving the apartment from dinner, Molly and Michael returned from the countryside after spending 10 days with students/professors from the psychology department. It seems like they had an extremely positive experience and made some great friends. Look for more stories to come from them! Now they are back in the apartment, and will probably spend there time exploring UB and reviewing the surveys they conducted while they were away.
Tim: Tim's adviser is currently in the country side, so his travel plans are unknown at the moment. Eventually he will meet with a red hat Buddhist monk, so he may have to travel some where in the future with an unknown location and time. Additionally, he met a woman last night that owns a travel company that may help him travel to the Hinti province, where he could see another monastery. Oh yeah, we cut his hair last night- yikes! Haha.
Yelena: Yelena is working frequently on her project with her adviser, Dandi. I don't think there are any travel plans in her future, but her project seems to be going well. However, Dandi is leaving for the countryside soon, so she may find another expert to work with for her project.
Melissa: Melissa is no longer traveling to the country side after being rejected by Germans who were funding the University's field work. (Just not Mongolian enough -haha!) Last weekend we were able to get a tour of Erdenet's Mine, and maybe she will be able to see another one in the future. In the mean time she is working her way around UB making contacts with mining companies, and looking for information for her research.
Evan: Evan also doesn't have any travel plans, but has been devoting some of his time to the preparation for Allison's debate camp. His project is still focused on Japanese aid in Mongolia, which has been interesting to learn about here. They are the biggest donor! They helped establish the bus system here, and are planning to improve the infrastructure further with an airport, roads, and a railway, maybe? Whoa!
Allie (me): I also had plans to go do field work with the University, which were unfortunately cancelled for the same reason as Melissa. While I am in UB I will continue researching projects conducted by various NGO's, mining companies, and other scientific institutions that are testing Mongolia's water quality and quantity. I want to compare and contrast the methods the groups use to test water quality with limited funding and resources and few educated/trained participants. We'll see what I find...
That makes 7 of us in the apartment now, and everyone is healthy and well! Our trip is already half way over. Time is going way too fast, but I guess I predicted this would happen. Still so much to see and do... better get to it.
Amber: Went to the countryside for an archaeological dig. She changed locations after being kicked out by locals, and is currently at a new location (near Kharahorin). She will leave separately from the group if they extend the dig, and will return to UB on June 29th. If they finish the dig on schedule she will finish with the group and return around July 6th.
Emily: Yesterday she received a phone call at 9:30am to leave for the countryside at 10:30am! She is with a group led by an ecology professor from the National University of Mongolia, who knows quite a bit about the relationship between tourism and the environment. She is located fairly close to UB, and I think will be gone for about 10 days.
Michael/Molly: Yesterday as we were leaving the apartment from dinner, Molly and Michael returned from the countryside after spending 10 days with students/professors from the psychology department. It seems like they had an extremely positive experience and made some great friends. Look for more stories to come from them! Now they are back in the apartment, and will probably spend there time exploring UB and reviewing the surveys they conducted while they were away.
Tim: Tim's adviser is currently in the country side, so his travel plans are unknown at the moment. Eventually he will meet with a red hat Buddhist monk, so he may have to travel some where in the future with an unknown location and time. Additionally, he met a woman last night that owns a travel company that may help him travel to the Hinti province, where he could see another monastery. Oh yeah, we cut his hair last night- yikes! Haha.
Yelena: Yelena is working frequently on her project with her adviser, Dandi. I don't think there are any travel plans in her future, but her project seems to be going well. However, Dandi is leaving for the countryside soon, so she may find another expert to work with for her project.
Melissa: Melissa is no longer traveling to the country side after being rejected by Germans who were funding the University's field work. (Just not Mongolian enough -haha!) Last weekend we were able to get a tour of Erdenet's Mine, and maybe she will be able to see another one in the future. In the mean time she is working her way around UB making contacts with mining companies, and looking for information for her research.
Evan: Evan also doesn't have any travel plans, but has been devoting some of his time to the preparation for Allison's debate camp. His project is still focused on Japanese aid in Mongolia, which has been interesting to learn about here. They are the biggest donor! They helped establish the bus system here, and are planning to improve the infrastructure further with an airport, roads, and a railway, maybe? Whoa!
Allie (me): I also had plans to go do field work with the University, which were unfortunately cancelled for the same reason as Melissa. While I am in UB I will continue researching projects conducted by various NGO's, mining companies, and other scientific institutions that are testing Mongolia's water quality and quantity. I want to compare and contrast the methods the groups use to test water quality with limited funding and resources and few educated/trained participants. We'll see what I find...
That makes 7 of us in the apartment now, and everyone is healthy and well! Our trip is already half way over. Time is going way too fast, but I guess I predicted this would happen. Still so much to see and do... better get to it.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Rain, rain go away?
In Mongolia most of the year the weather is dry. However, the precipitation that Mongolia receives falls from June to September. Now that the rainy season has begun the air is moist after passing over Asia into the interior of the continent from China's summer monsoons. In Ulaanbaatar, there isn't a sufficient drainage system for this period of intense rain. As a result, the streets and sidewalks flood and make it difficult to get from place to place without getting completely soaked. Mongolian girls still trot around in the heels, but they can't be comfortable. Melissa learned a valuable lesson as to not stand/walk on a side walk that is next to flooded street with passing cars. She got hosed. She was a good sport though, and has reminded us on several occasions to be careful, or we'll end up nice and soggy. The Tuul River that was diverted around the city was full when we got back from Erdenet. It is refreshing to see that the city is not bone dry and dusty, but the rain makes transportation a hassle. We'll make the best of it though, puddle jumping anyone?!
Parliament
For one of our many field trips sponsored by the National University of Mongolia we got to tour the Parliament building, one of the center pieces of Sukhbaatar Square. This year is an election year, so on June 29th, 76 new Parliament members will be elected. Once those are determined, the leader of the party that holds the majority is appointed Prime Minister. The Presidential election is not until next summer, so his position is safe for now. The main parties are the Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party and the Democratic Party. There are also a large number of smaller parties such as the Green Party (whoo hoo!), the Motherland Party, Nazi Party, and other individuals unaffiliated with a party. Traditionally, the MPRP has held the majority, but this year it is forcasted to be a very tight race. As the date gets closer, more campaign cars roll by and more posters go up.
On our way to see the Parliament building there were a couple of road blocks:
1. Tim, because he is traveling to India after this, needs an Indian visa. To get a visa you need to send your passport away but to get into the Parliament building you also need you passport. Unfortunately, he did not have time to make photocopies before he left either. Despite all this, he did get through the first round of security checks but...
2. Because Parliament is a fancy government building, you need to dress in proper attire to be allowed in. Tim had a dress shirt and tie, but no jacket and cargo khaki pants. This is apparently not permissible. Also, Allie had hurt her ankle and knee while running in the morning, so was wearing her Merrel hiking boots for maximum support. This apparently was not acceptable either. Allies situation was remedied by Allison, who had seen the building before, giving Allie her dress shoes and sacrificing herself. But Tim, who had no alternative clothes had to turn back with Allison. In addition, there was another factor that exacerbated this situation...
3. We are at the height of the rainy season and it was pouring rain. This is good for the drought conditions, but there is no drainage system in UB, which makes huge puddles (really, mini lakes) all throughout the city.
Once we (Melissa, Allie, Yelena, Evan, and Me) finally got in, we started our tour complete with guide and security guard escort. We saw various official looking offices, and people in business suits. There was some cool art depicting the traditional Mongolian lifestyle. We saw Mongolian white horse hair flags built on a foundation made from soil from each of the different ethic groups. We got a group picture in front of the Chinggis Khaan bust and saw the hall full of portraits of past Prime Ministers. Eventually, we entered the hall where Parliament convenes to make all the important decisions.
One of my favorite parts was seeing the large ger located in the middle of the building. This is where all the diplomats and foreign visitors stay when the visit Mongolia. None other than President George W. Bush stayed there when he came to Mongolia in November, 2005.
All in all it was a good trip. It should be excited to find out the outcome of the elections!
Love, Emily
On our way to see the Parliament building there were a couple of road blocks:
1. Tim, because he is traveling to India after this, needs an Indian visa. To get a visa you need to send your passport away but to get into the Parliament building you also need you passport. Unfortunately, he did not have time to make photocopies before he left either. Despite all this, he did get through the first round of security checks but...
2. Because Parliament is a fancy government building, you need to dress in proper attire to be allowed in. Tim had a dress shirt and tie, but no jacket and cargo khaki pants. This is apparently not permissible. Also, Allie had hurt her ankle and knee while running in the morning, so was wearing her Merrel hiking boots for maximum support. This apparently was not acceptable either. Allies situation was remedied by Allison, who had seen the building before, giving Allie her dress shoes and sacrificing herself. But Tim, who had no alternative clothes had to turn back with Allison. In addition, there was another factor that exacerbated this situation...
3. We are at the height of the rainy season and it was pouring rain. This is good for the drought conditions, but there is no drainage system in UB, which makes huge puddles (really, mini lakes) all throughout the city.
Once we (Melissa, Allie, Yelena, Evan, and Me) finally got in, we started our tour complete with guide and security guard escort. We saw various official looking offices, and people in business suits. There was some cool art depicting the traditional Mongolian lifestyle. We saw Mongolian white horse hair flags built on a foundation made from soil from each of the different ethic groups. We got a group picture in front of the Chinggis Khaan bust and saw the hall full of portraits of past Prime Ministers. Eventually, we entered the hall where Parliament convenes to make all the important decisions.
One of my favorite parts was seeing the large ger located in the middle of the building. This is where all the diplomats and foreign visitors stay when the visit Mongolia. None other than President George W. Bush stayed there when he came to Mongolia in November, 2005.
All in all it was a good trip. It should be excited to find out the outcome of the elections!
Love, Emily
Monday, June 23, 2008
weekend update -- end of last week and erdenet
hey all -- dawn, my sister-in-law had the baby while i was gone this weekend. baby boy, Blake Patrick. just sucks i couldn't be there for it. everything sounds like its going good though :)
so since wednesday we've been pretty busy. thursday night we went to a foreigner pub called Dave's place -- run by some british guys. melissa is doing research on mining companies, and we were told that that bar would be a good place for her to make some contacts because they all go there. every thursday at dave's though is a quiz bowl -- so we entered the trivia game. it can be on anything -- from british pop culture, to rugby, to movies. sadly, my rugby and british culture knowledge is limited so we didnt win (the only question i knew was that hugh grant's famous affair with the prostitute named divine brown.... thank you vh1). we came in 5th out of 8 -- i guess not a bad first showing.
friday night, we went to another club called oasis. we had previously met the woman who's going to be teaching mongolian to students at pitt next spring, her name is Ninj. we invited her to come out with us gave her the option of picking the place, so we ended up at oasis. its run by french people (which means the mongolian police don't like them very much apparently.....) and its got to be 100+ degrees in there. we stayed there for a good three hours or so until it was so hot we couldn't take it anymore. met a few of ninj's friends and other random people, including a guy from canada who has been travelling around asia -- it was a pretty crazy night.
funny sidebar -- mongolians don't sweat as much as americans do though i guess, so the four of us, Emily, Allie, Melissa, and I, were literally drenched by the middle of the night (it was a bit gross). ninj and her friends kept pulling out napkins and wiping the sweat off of us..... so disgusting. we walked home so we could dry off before the night.
saturday we woke up REALLY early to head out to erdenet. it was rainy and cold but there was a paved road to the Amerbarcalon monastery for 90% of the time..... that other 10% was quite an adventure though. we got stuck in the mud at least 4 times -- so after pushing the van a lot and fording a river on foot (yes that was an
the monastery was within walking distance of the campsite so we went right over. it was impressive, even after being at quite a few monasteries. this one was a bit more interesting though because they've broken away from mainstream tibetan buddhism because of a falling out with the dalai lama. he didn't approve of their main deity that they worship. we tried to get more info out of the monk showing us around -- but he wouldnt break and tell us more. munkhteej, who was interpreting for us, said that we need more training as a buddhist before we could be trusted with such "confidential" info. Amerbarcalon was so impressive -- maybe because there were less tourists around, or maybe because we saw it at dusk, but it had a more authentically mystic aura around it.
so the next morning we went to the mining site closer to erdenet city. it was impressive how big the mining site was -- although basically is was environmental carnage. i mean, i don't necessarily consider myself a tree-hugging "go green" all about the environment kind of person... but he outright told us that the company dumps all their detergent and quartz dust waste into the nearby lake. he also explained to us how the site used to be a huge mountain that they decimated into a huge valley. i dunno, obviously environmental ethics aren't that important to miners....
the actual mine itself was creepy. seriously -- i have never seen so many different ways to be injured or killed in that condensed of an area. huge machines, narrow staircases, boiling metallic liquids are just some of the noteworthy ones... i also felt like i was breathing in cancer as i was walking through the site. but oh well, made me pretty glad i hadn't decided to transfer to the engineering school when i was thinking about it my sophomore year.
we had lunch in a korean restaurant which was AMAZING. i thought i had lost any hope of liking korean food after my last experience but this completely renewed a love for it. then we started on a long journey back to UB and didn't get back til late at night. another awesome weekend in the countryside
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
trip to hahoorn
so i realize its wednesday and no one has talked about our weekend in hahoorn yet (spelling might be a bit off -- thats my best attempt)
we stayed at another ger camp. quick summary -- countryside = amazingly beautiful; van ride getting to the countryside = long and uncomfortable. about 2 miles out of UB, the road just stops. from that point on, you're driving across very bumpy, natural terrain. they're currently making roads around the countryside -- so the terrible thing is that you can see an actual road as you're driving along, but they won't allow you on it. so the ride basically felt like a roller coaster -- with a few stops when the tire went flat, or we got stuck in wet sand, or there were sandstorms. it was good for some laughs on the way there -- the way home was just painful. surprisingly enough, no one got car sick -- we must have stomachs of steel.
we get to the ger camp and there's just sand dunes everywhere in the middle of a grassy plain -- which is apparently an ecological phenomenon. we went hiking around on them and jumped down a few sand dunes (or pushed each other down them). then we went to a nearby lake to look around. then there was a torrential downpour. michael broke the door to our ger. we played cards with zula and solongo (two women from the mongolian international studies dept). also met some creepy russians. all in all it was an interesting night.
we wake up and go to the nearby monastery -- i thought it was fascinating, though apparently everyone else is slightly monasteried-out at this point. i guess they're experiencing a bit of tibetan buddhist overkill, but the place was pretty amazing. they charged $5 to take pictures, but i shadily took a bunch of pictures anyway when people weren't looking.
we left the monastery and went back to the ger camp to eat before we braved the neverending journey through a sandstorm back to UB. we didnt get back til pretty late, so everyone pretty much just crashed when we got back to the apartment.
regardless -- going to the countryside is completely worth the pain and suffering you have to endure to get there.
we stayed at another ger camp. quick summary -- countryside = amazingly beautiful; van ride getting to the countryside = long and uncomfortable. about 2 miles out of UB, the road just stops. from that point on, you're driving across very bumpy, natural terrain. they're currently making roads around the countryside -- so the terrible thing is that you can see an actual road as you're driving along, but they won't allow you on it. so the ride basically felt like a roller coaster -- with a few stops when the tire went flat, or we got stuck in wet sand, or there were sandstorms. it was good for some laughs on the way there -- the way home was just painful. surprisingly enough, no one got car sick -- we must have stomachs of steel.
we get to the ger camp and there's just sand dunes everywhere in the middle of a grassy plain -- which is apparently an ecological phenomenon. we went hiking around on them and jumped down a few sand dunes (or pushed each other down them). then we went to a nearby lake to look around. then there was a torrential downpour. michael broke the door to our ger. we played cards with zula and solongo (two women from the mongolian international studies dept). also met some creepy russians. all in all it was an interesting night.
we wake up and go to the nearby monastery -- i thought it was fascinating, though apparently everyone else is slightly monasteried-out at this point. i guess they're experiencing a bit of tibetan buddhist overkill, but the place was pretty amazing. they charged $5 to take pictures, but i shadily took a bunch of pictures anyway when people weren't looking.
we left the monastery and went back to the ger camp to eat before we braved the neverending journey through a sandstorm back to UB. we didnt get back til pretty late, so everyone pretty much just crashed when we got back to the apartment.
regardless -- going to the countryside is completely worth the pain and suffering you have to endure to get there.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
From Airag to buuZ (by Yelena & Evan)
On our myriad travels through the wild forests and deserted deserts of the magnificent Mongolian landscape, Evan and Yelena have duly noted some of the more delicious traditional foods. Toward the enlightenment of inquiring minds everywhere, we hereby post a few recipes to tickle your imagination and tantalize your palate! Ahem.
Airag (fermented mare's milk)
milk
yeast
First, find yourself a horse. Then, milk it; careful not to anger it. This is important as a kick to the mouth from a disgruntled horse can inhibit enjoyment of this famous Mongolian delicacy. Put the milk in a container and add yeast. Wait a few months. Enjoy!
Karakorum is world-renowned as the Airag capital of the world. Mongolians journey across the country for the chance to imbibe this alcoholic beverage. There are stories of locals subsisting on nothing but Airag for months at a time. Kids, do not try this at home. Seriously.
Yummy Potato Salad
potatoes
cucumbers
tomatoes
peas
yogurt/sour cream
onion
sliced meat
Dice or cube everything into small bits, then combine. Serve cold.
Milky Rice (Sootay Bodaa)
rice
milk
butter
sugar
Boil rice in milk (if whole milk, then thin it by adding water). Add butter to prevent sticking and enhance flavor. Sweeten to taste. Serve hot.
Optional: cook with raisins (until soft). Might also benefit from sliced apple and cinnamon! Mmm.
Personal note: This is one of my favorite foods of all time. It is simple and tasty!
Rice is sometimes served with raisins and no milk. This is all very well, but I prefer the milky rice, of which milk is an essential component. It contributes sweetness and warmth to the meal.
Boortsog
sugar
oil
soda
1 liter water
Add flour; cook on low heat for 10 minutes. Then knead, roll, and cut into tablespoon-sized pieces. Fry in oil. When warm, these are delicious with sugar; they also store well despite getting stale.
Milk Tea (Sootay Tse)
milk
water
tea (leaf or block)
salt
Boil milk and water. Break off a piece of tea from a block and pound it until it comes apart. Then add to the water and steep. Add salt to taste. Strain and serve hot.
Tsoivang
flour
water
oil
sliced meat (mutton)
sliced carrots
sliced onion
sliced potatoes
Combine flour and water to make dough. Roll and flatten into thin circles; cook briefly until dried. Cut into thin noodles (1/4 inch or so). Those for whom authenticity is not a priority can save a lot of time by buying prepackaged noodles.
Cook all ingredients in water. Depending on whether soup or pasta is intended, add more or less water. This makes a phenomenal dinner after a cold day outside. Serve hot! Yum!
Khosher (hooshoor)
flour
water
meat
oil
(carrots
onions
cucumbers
tomatoes
garlic)
Mix flour and water to make dough, then knead until soft. Cut into tablespoon-sized pieces and flatten. Fill with meat (ground beef works well) and/or vegetables. Pinch the edges of the dough together to make a flat dumpling (approximately the size of the palm of your hand).
Fry in oil. Serve hot. This is a traditional Mongolian food and is often found in fast-food restaurants. Beware, as hosher are tasty but rich; don't eat too many at once!
These would probably be good with sour cream or ketchup.
Buuz (Bohts)
flour
water
meat
This Mongolian favorite is similar to khosher, but usually smaller in size, similar to the dumplings that you get at that Chinese restaurant, you know the one. Unlike khosher, it is steamed instead of fried, but is no less delicious.
On a related note, the Mongolian national fast food chain mentioned earlier is named "Khan Buuz," a name which does -not- derive from "Burger King," really, I don't know why you would think that ;) . Never mind the suspicious-looking crown emblem.
Restaurants
Ulaanbaatar has an extensive variety of restaurants, bars, and cafes. Many of these serve Mongolian food, but a substantial number serve foreign food. Evan and I have been to several cafes, a Ukrainian restaurant, several Korean restaurants, a Russian cafeteria, and an Irish pub. Most of the food is reasonably priced (and less expensive than similar food in the US). Sometimes the restaurants will serve free tea, the way that American restaurants bring water to the table without charge. Other times, we have to order drinks separately. I am particularly fond of tea, water, and orange Fanta. We also cook a lot of food in our apartment.
The authentic Mongolian food that we have had here suprised me in being destinctly un-Chinese, often having more in common with a Russian style. Much of this food is easily made from scratch, and can be prepared in under an hour, making it especially useful for our busy American schedules back at home. The emphasis on meats, carbs, and dairy is especially in-tune with typical American cuisine.
Much luck in the kitchen!
From Yelena and Evan
Airag (fermented mare's milk)
milk
yeast
First, find yourself a horse. Then, milk it; careful not to anger it. This is important as a kick to the mouth from a disgruntled horse can inhibit enjoyment of this famous Mongolian delicacy. Put the milk in a container and add yeast. Wait a few months. Enjoy!
Karakorum is world-renowned as the Airag capital of the world. Mongolians journey across the country for the chance to imbibe this alcoholic beverage. There are stories of locals subsisting on nothing but Airag for months at a time. Kids, do not try this at home. Seriously.
Yummy Potato Salad
potatoes
cucumbers
tomatoes
peas
yogurt/sour cream
onion
sliced meat
Dice or cube everything into small bits, then combine. Serve cold.
Milky Rice (Sootay Bodaa)
rice
milk
butter
sugar
Boil rice in milk (if whole milk, then thin it by adding water). Add butter to prevent sticking and enhance flavor. Sweeten to taste. Serve hot.
Optional: cook with raisins (until soft). Might also benefit from sliced apple and cinnamon! Mmm.
Personal note: This is one of my favorite foods of all time. It is simple and tasty!
Rice is sometimes served with raisins and no milk. This is all very well, but I prefer the milky rice, of which milk is an essential component. It contributes sweetness and warmth to the meal.
Boortsog
sugar
oil
soda
1 liter water
Add flour; cook on low heat for 10 minutes. Then knead, roll, and cut into tablespoon-sized pieces. Fry in oil. When warm, these are delicious with sugar; they also store well despite getting stale.
Milk Tea (Sootay Tse)
milk
water
tea (leaf or block)
salt
Boil milk and water. Break off a piece of tea from a block and pound it until it comes apart. Then add to the water and steep. Add salt to taste. Strain and serve hot.
Tsoivang
flour
water
oil
sliced meat (mutton)
sliced carrots
sliced onion
sliced potatoes
Combine flour and water to make dough. Roll and flatten into thin circles; cook briefly until dried. Cut into thin noodles (1/4 inch or so). Those for whom authenticity is not a priority can save a lot of time by buying prepackaged noodles.
Cook all ingredients in water. Depending on whether soup or pasta is intended, add more or less water. This makes a phenomenal dinner after a cold day outside. Serve hot! Yum!
Khosher (hooshoor)
flour
water
meat
oil
(carrots
onions
cucumbers
tomatoes
garlic)
Mix flour and water to make dough, then knead until soft. Cut into tablespoon-sized pieces and flatten. Fill with meat (ground beef works well) and/or vegetables. Pinch the edges of the dough together to make a flat dumpling (approximately the size of the palm of your hand).
Fry in oil. Serve hot. This is a traditional Mongolian food and is often found in fast-food restaurants. Beware, as hosher are tasty but rich; don't eat too many at once!
These would probably be good with sour cream or ketchup.
Buuz (Bohts)
flour
water
meat
This Mongolian favorite is similar to khosher, but usually smaller in size, similar to the dumplings that you get at that Chinese restaurant, you know the one. Unlike khosher, it is steamed instead of fried, but is no less delicious.
On a related note, the Mongolian national fast food chain mentioned earlier is named "Khan Buuz," a name which does -not- derive from "Burger King," really, I don't know why you would think that ;) . Never mind the suspicious-looking crown emblem.
Restaurants
Ulaanbaatar has an extensive variety of restaurants, bars, and cafes. Many of these serve Mongolian food, but a substantial number serve foreign food. Evan and I have been to several cafes, a Ukrainian restaurant, several Korean restaurants, a Russian cafeteria, and an Irish pub. Most of the food is reasonably priced (and less expensive than similar food in the US). Sometimes the restaurants will serve free tea, the way that American restaurants bring water to the table without charge. Other times, we have to order drinks separately. I am particularly fond of tea, water, and orange Fanta. We also cook a lot of food in our apartment.
The authentic Mongolian food that we have had here suprised me in being destinctly un-Chinese, often having more in common with a Russian style. Much of this food is easily made from scratch, and can be prepared in under an hour, making it especially useful for our busy American schedules back at home. The emphasis on meats, carbs, and dairy is especially in-tune with typical American cuisine.
Much luck in the kitchen!
From Yelena and Evan
Monday, June 16, 2008
And then there were six...
As classes are winding down, our apartment is getting quieter. Today Molly and Micheal left for the countryside with the University's Psychology department. They will be gone for at least two weeks in order to conduct their surveys. Tomorrow, I will be heading out with the Anthropology department! I finally get to start digging! The exciting news is I'll be going with a group of Mongolian students and will have ample opportunity to improve my language skills. I got some bad new from home this morning, so this may end up being a long twenty days of personal reflection. Hopefully, I will be kept occupied and busy for a while.
The apartment will soon be missing a few others as everyone is venturing out to other regions of Mongolia. Allie and Melissa will be heading out to do some biology field work, testing rivers by using plants and animals indicators to test water quality. Emily will be starting her Ecotourism research when she goes to the countryside. Evan and Tim will be heading out of UB soon too! Almost all of us are planning trip out of the city. Just Pitt's effort to off set this problem of urban migration to UB!!
The apartment will soon be missing a few others as everyone is venturing out to other regions of Mongolia. Allie and Melissa will be heading out to do some biology field work, testing rivers by using plants and animals indicators to test water quality. Emily will be starting her Ecotourism research when she goes to the countryside. Evan and Tim will be heading out of UB soon too! Almost all of us are planning trip out of the city. Just Pitt's effort to off set this problem of urban migration to UB!!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Advisers... finally!
The long anticipated advisor reception has finally happened! Almost all of us (sorry Amber) met our independent research advisers. The event was very high class. It was held at the Indian restaurant in the Puma Imperial Hotel. There were many highlights of the evening. The food was quite yummy, but I think the group favorite was the huge amounts of delicious leftovers we got to take back to our apartment! So far instead of buying food for breakfast and lunch, we have been able to raid the seemingly endless containers of chicken curry, rice, and nan.
On the business end, I think there was a collective sigh of relief that we have met our advisers and have a little better idea about how plausible some of our project ideas are. Some people will be leaving for the county side, for digs and survey work, with in the next couple of days... i think. You never seem to know plans here more that a couple days or even hours ahead of time. Form what I've heard, most of the advisers speak English fairly well. My advisor studied in New Zealand for 3 years and speaks nearly perfect English. On the other hand there are a couple, like Evans advisor, who speak next to no English. At least in that case, they both kinda speak Japanese!
Right now we are in the thick of classes, busy memorizing Mongolian vocab and grammar, attending lectures on history, politics, biology (yay!), and economics, visiting every museum in UB, and spending the weekends in the countryside. This schedule keeps us pretty, the way I like things, busy. However, the advisor reception definitely made me, and I think everyone else as well, excited to start independent projects!
For now it's back to the flashcards!
Love, Emily
On the business end, I think there was a collective sigh of relief that we have met our advisers and have a little better idea about how plausible some of our project ideas are. Some people will be leaving for the county side, for digs and survey work, with in the next couple of days... i think. You never seem to know plans here more that a couple days or even hours ahead of time. Form what I've heard, most of the advisers speak English fairly well. My advisor studied in New Zealand for 3 years and speaks nearly perfect English. On the other hand there are a couple, like Evans advisor, who speak next to no English. At least in that case, they both kinda speak Japanese!
Right now we are in the thick of classes, busy memorizing Mongolian vocab and grammar, attending lectures on history, politics, biology (yay!), and economics, visiting every museum in UB, and spending the weekends in the countryside. This schedule keeps us pretty, the way I like things, busy. However, the advisor reception definitely made me, and I think everyone else as well, excited to start independent projects!
For now it's back to the flashcards!
Love, Emily
Maintenance
I thought I would share a few of the day-to-day occurrence's that go on in our deluxe salmon-colored apartment called "The City Apartment."
Boiling Water- We decided it was too much of a hassle to buy a bottle of water from the store every time we want to drink it or brush our teeth, so we set up a huge process every other day. First we boil the water, cool it, and distribute it into used coca-cola (not Pepsi :)), aloe, and orange juice bottles. Needless to say, we will be more than thankful for a faucet when we get back to the US.
Washing clothes- Without a washing machine, washing clothes is a continuous chore- you can never catch up on it (especially since we have so few articles of clothing). We have to soak our clothes in a basin, scrub with Dr. Bronner's, wait for the water to turn brown from all the dust and dirt, scrub some more, rinse thoroughly, and find a location to let it air dry. With nine people doing laundry the pickin's are slim for a spot next to a window, so you can find a piece of clothing tucked in every nook and cranny.
Line of Shoes- Upon entering our humble abode we have a rule: you MUST take off your shoes before trekking dust, dirt, and miscellaneous city street particles through the rest of the apartment. Now, let's do the math. There are 20 pairs of shoes in the line. 9 people= that's about 2 shoes per person, right? Well, I account for 5. Oops. They all seem necessary, but I guess if everyone else is getting by with two I should cut back. Nah.
Cooking- Dinner time! We have successfully been able to share groceries and cook for the whole crew in a peaceful manner. No one is emaciated or underfed, by any means. It's become apparent that we have some naturally born cooks in the group! On the other hand, we have discovered some naturally born dishwashers. Amber has been revoked of her cooking rights, but she can still boil water and chop a potato, but that's the extent.
Boiling Water- We decided it was too much of a hassle to buy a bottle of water from the store every time we want to drink it or brush our teeth, so we set up a huge process every other day. First we boil the water, cool it, and distribute it into used coca-cola (not Pepsi :)), aloe, and orange juice bottles. Needless to say, we will be more than thankful for a faucet when we get back to the US.
Washing clothes- Without a washing machine, washing clothes is a continuous chore- you can never catch up on it (especially since we have so few articles of clothing). We have to soak our clothes in a basin, scrub with Dr. Bronner's, wait for the water to turn brown from all the dust and dirt, scrub some more, rinse thoroughly, and find a location to let it air dry. With nine people doing laundry the pickin's are slim for a spot next to a window, so you can find a piece of clothing tucked in every nook and cranny.
Line of Shoes- Upon entering our humble abode we have a rule: you MUST take off your shoes before trekking dust, dirt, and miscellaneous city street particles through the rest of the apartment. Now, let's do the math. There are 20 pairs of shoes in the line. 9 people= that's about 2 shoes per person, right? Well, I account for 5. Oops. They all seem necessary, but I guess if everyone else is getting by with two I should cut back. Nah.
Cooking- Dinner time! We have successfully been able to share groceries and cook for the whole crew in a peaceful manner. No one is emaciated or underfed, by any means. It's become apparent that we have some naturally born cooks in the group! On the other hand, we have discovered some naturally born dishwashers. Amber has been revoked of her cooking rights, but she can still boil water and chop a potato, but that's the extent.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Water, Us, or Yc, Molly
Water is, in Mongolian, written like "yc" and pronounced "us," if there was an umlaut over the u. "Oos" might be a better interpretation. If you're concerned, pleace check with the linguist from below. Mongolia, according to Allison (a legitimate scientific resource), is running out of water. There's a projected date by which the country will be dry and that date isn't too far off. It's said that we (they) are currently in a period of drought; however, I always thought that droughts were supposed to end. The "rainy season," something that had been described to me as having been "two weeks of torrential downpour" is, I am told, sporadic at best and can last as little as a few days. (This is my spotty memory here, not actual facts.)
Pennsylvania, dear land of my heart, is much more wet than this. Back in high school it rained every Thursday. Totally serious. I made a chart. In Pittsburgh they say there are more rainy days than sunny days a year. I think this is positively wonderful
When it's too dry, I feel like I am going to dry up into dust. There is something intrinsically right in being submerged in water or caught in a heavy rain. I have this theory that everyone imprints on a kind of non-urban terrain--the place where they would be without civilization to shield them, the place where they feel natural. Mine involves trees, so much green your eyes hurt, and vast oceans of water. So, pretty much New England.
Mongolia is very dry. Here, my water addiction, a silent force driving and destroying my life, becomes obvious. I need to drink it, to bathe in it, to breathe it in to feel whole and alive. I search water out, stalking across the land like a lone, uhh, stalker looking for water, if just to look at it. We use water to wash our clothes in the bathtub, filling up basin after basin. We boil it, store it in the fridge, and consume it later. We fill our nalgenes with boiling water and night and wrap our bodies around them to stay warm. I eye the rivers and lakes, judging whether or not I can swim in them, how safe it is, and if I'll let myself risk the dirtiness of it.
When it rains I stand outside as though I can soak it up and hold it all inside of me.
I think I notice here a lot more how much we use water and how we need it. Every day we take turns boiling water. We fill up our electric kettle and then empty it into large bowls where it cools. We put it back in old juice containers and use it later to drink.
We didn't have hot water for a while there. When this happened we'd take turns boiling water and filling our laundry basin with it, washing our hair and bodies in these strange, careful ways. It took me times to get used to it, but I never really felt clean until the day I first tried dumping it over my head to rinse off. I think it's the psychological sensation of being doused in water that makes me feel clean.
Water is still my favorite thing to drink, it always has been. Ask my parents, I always preferred water. I never liked soda, still don't--the bubbles tickle too much. Water is pretty great. I'm going to go let my stomach appreciate some right now.
Fun Linguistic Tidbits
Being a linguistics major, I enjoy language-related phenomena. Seems pretty straightforward. I have included some notes for the curious. (Because the phonetic/Cyrillic symbols might get garbled, I've used English letters whenever possible.)
Modern Mongolian, as written in Outer Mongolia (where we are staying), uses the Cyrillic alphabet. Under Soviet influence, Mongolia hastily switched from the Semitic-based Classical Mongolian script to Cyrillic. (See Wikipedia's awesome article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mongolian_language for more information about writing systems and the structure of the language.) Mongolian is a Turkic-Altaic language, distantly related to Turkish.
Mongolian has seven vowels. Four of these correspond to [a] as in "car," [e] as in "egg" (but slightly higher - somewhat like "is"), [i] as in "team," and [u] as in "boot." The others are a high back unrounded vowel, a mid-low back rounded one (as in "aww"), and a high back rounded vowel something like the "u" in "put." The last two are spelled with a plain O and an O with a line through it, respectively. All vowels come in short and long versions. Mongolian has vowel harmony, which means that the vowels in each word will tend to be similar to each other. There are two categories of vowels, masculine and feminine. The "masculine" vowels are produced low and back in the mouth, and the "feminine" ones tend to be high and fronted.
Basically, there are two vowels for U where English has only one, and there are also two for O. Many people learning Mongolian, regardless of their native language, have trouble telling these four vowels apart. In our conversation classes at the National University, our teachers patiently repeat the difference between "yyl" and "YYl." We hear the difference when they say it, but it's very difficult for us to distinguish vowel sounds that don't exist in English.
Diphthongs are written with the vowel plus a short [i]. The diphthongs are usually pronounced as a single vowel that's been raised - A is pronounced [a], but A plus short [i] is pronounced like the "a" in "can" (in casual speech).
Consonants are a little easier. Mongolian has many sounds that are similar to English. It also has the [x] of German [lachen]. The Cyrillic alphabet has many specific spelling rules, some of which are completely arbitrary and exist only because the Soviets wanted the Mongolian language to include every single Cyrillic letter. An interesting difference between Russian and Mongolian pronunciations of Cyrillic is that Mongolian sometimes has affricates where Russian has fricatives. For example, the letter Ж is pronounced in Russian as the "ge" in "beige," and in Mongolian as if it has a D in front of it ("bridge"). The letter З is pronounced as [z] in Russian but [dz] in Mongolian. Fun!
The sounds [w,v] are often interchangeable in Mongolian. Words that are spelled with the V sound are often pronounced with W. This is a bit frustrating for English speakers because we have a phonemic contrast between the two sounds (meaning that the words "wet" and "vet" mean different things).
Interesting gaps include a lack of the P sound and the G/K sound that we have in English. For the latter, Mongolian has a uvular stop rather than a velar one, meaning that it's produced farther back in the mouth. This is the same sound that's often written "q" in transcriptions from Arabic. Mongolian has [f] only in foreign loanwords. Native speakers of Mongolian will often pronounce "Pittsburgh" as [fitsburg] because the sound P doesn't exist.
Sweet! More will come soon. Please comment on this post if you have any particular interest in the Mongolian language or linguistics in general, and I'll try to answer the questions. (A quick caveat: I am a student, not an expert! However, I will do my best to be knowledgeable.)
Modern Mongolian, as written in Outer Mongolia (where we are staying), uses the Cyrillic alphabet. Under Soviet influence, Mongolia hastily switched from the Semitic-based Classical Mongolian script to Cyrillic. (See Wikipedia's awesome article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mongolian_language for more information about writing systems and the structure of the language.) Mongolian is a Turkic-Altaic language, distantly related to Turkish.
Mongolian has seven vowels. Four of these correspond to [a] as in "car," [e] as in "egg" (but slightly higher - somewhat like "is"), [i] as in "team," and [u] as in "boot." The others are a high back unrounded vowel, a mid-low back rounded one (as in "aww"), and a high back rounded vowel something like the "u" in "put." The last two are spelled with a plain O and an O with a line through it, respectively. All vowels come in short and long versions. Mongolian has vowel harmony, which means that the vowels in each word will tend to be similar to each other. There are two categories of vowels, masculine and feminine. The "masculine" vowels are produced low and back in the mouth, and the "feminine" ones tend to be high and fronted.
Basically, there are two vowels for U where English has only one, and there are also two for O. Many people learning Mongolian, regardless of their native language, have trouble telling these four vowels apart. In our conversation classes at the National University, our teachers patiently repeat the difference between "yyl" and "YYl." We hear the difference when they say it, but it's very difficult for us to distinguish vowel sounds that don't exist in English.
Diphthongs are written with the vowel plus a short [i]. The diphthongs are usually pronounced as a single vowel that's been raised - A is pronounced [a], but A plus short [i] is pronounced like the "a" in "can" (in casual speech).
Consonants are a little easier. Mongolian has many sounds that are similar to English. It also has the [x] of German [lachen]. The Cyrillic alphabet has many specific spelling rules, some of which are completely arbitrary and exist only because the Soviets wanted the Mongolian language to include every single Cyrillic letter. An interesting difference between Russian and Mongolian pronunciations of Cyrillic is that Mongolian sometimes has affricates where Russian has fricatives. For example, the letter Ж is pronounced in Russian as the "ge" in "beige," and in Mongolian as if it has a D in front of it ("bridge"). The letter З is pronounced as [z] in Russian but [dz] in Mongolian. Fun!
The sounds [w,v] are often interchangeable in Mongolian. Words that are spelled with the V sound are often pronounced with W. This is a bit frustrating for English speakers because we have a phonemic contrast between the two sounds (meaning that the words "wet" and "vet" mean different things).
Interesting gaps include a lack of the P sound and the G/K sound that we have in English. For the latter, Mongolian has a uvular stop rather than a velar one, meaning that it's produced farther back in the mouth. This is the same sound that's often written "q" in transcriptions from Arabic. Mongolian has [f] only in foreign loanwords. Native speakers of Mongolian will often pronounce "Pittsburgh" as [fitsburg] because the sound P doesn't exist.
Sweet! More will come soon. Please comment on this post if you have any particular interest in the Mongolian language or linguistics in general, and I'll try to answer the questions. (A quick caveat: I am a student, not an expert! However, I will do my best to be knowledgeable.)
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Being Smacked in the Face with Reality, Molly
In the past twenty-four hours I've realized two things
1) There is a meal of champions that can be eaten any time of the day.
2) I am in Mongolia.
Now, to explain.
1) Mongolia is a haven for people with particular unique dietary tastes. It's a positive paradise for fans of novelty food, flavored drinks, ice cream, meat, and bread. I only have interest in the first three (as you can probably tell.)
Okay, I also like bread.
So, in short, I like the food here, except for the meat--I'm working on eating it. In order to ensure I wouldn't keel over and die the first time I ate meat to be polite (having beena vegatarian since 4th grade--I just finished 16th, you do the math), my darling Soviet friends put me on a training regime of dead-animal-products.
But that's neither here nor there.
During today's lunch break I played the fool at a meeting with one of the most amazing women I've met in Mongolia (Hongorzul), the head of the psychology department (I think), and two psychology doctoral candidates who will be advising my project. This was all mediated by Allison. My presence mostly consisted of me being quiet, occasionally doing or saying something, and then everyone else giggling at me. Affectionately, I tell myself. Afterwards, without enough time for a real meal, I debated food and then came upon the Meal of Champions: Goe (there's an umlaut over the 'e' and it rhymes with 'boy') and supercontik.
Goe (imagine the umlaut for me) is one of the many "fruit drinks" available in Mongolia. These drinks are positively amazing. 'Goe' is one of the multipurpose Mongolian words that functions quite like "bella" does in Italian, if you happen to know the language. Goe can mean beautiful, great, wonderful, pretty, and just about any other positive word you can think of.
Supercontik is one of the novelty foods Allison was smart enough to introduce us to. Now, may I digress--if this whole thing isn't me digressing--for a moment and explain novelty foods here.
When I said Mongolia is a haven for novelty food enthusiasts, I wasn't joking. They get junk from China, Europe, Japan, Korea, and Russia. I'm sure other places as well, but I don't care about them right now. Most delicious things somehow combine pastry, chocolate, and occasionally "fruit flavored substance." There are wafers. There are varieties of thin, unsweetend crackers that are lightly complimented with equally thin layers or coatings of chocolate. There are lighty, puffy pastries filled with cream. Earlier, we had a trip to Naran Tuul and found these eclaires, fifty cents and big enough to constitute a meal.
Junk food here rocks.
My absolute favorite thing so far has been supercontiks. Imagine a droxie--that's a bootleg oreo for the uninitiated--but make it a size that fits comfortably in your palm (unless you have very small hands, then it's bigger than your palm.) Now, you can get these filled with chocolate, hazelnut, or vanilla. Then take the whole thing and dip it in dark chocolate, package it with between one and three more just like it, and writer 'Supercontik' on it in large, friendly letters.
Allison made a reasonable point when introducing these to us: They're not really that good. They -sound- good, but they're of a mediocre quality, all in all. However, they're everywhere. Little old women sell them on street corners. When you're hungry and have between 200 and 400 tugrok to blow on food, they're prefect because they're right there. After a while you get used to them and begin to love them. They become a comfort food just like kraft mac-n-cheese or ramen.
This is an amazing combination. It has enough sugar to keep you going untill you crash in a useless heap after spending close to an hour deep frying potatoes and garlic over an electric stove.
2) I'm in Mongolia.
This seems like a fairly obvious, and fairly stupid, thing to say. If you, dear reader, do not happen to know me as intimately as some of our other dear readers do (so if, for example, you're Michael's mom as opposed to my mom--I think only our moms read this), then here's a useful fact: I am a total flake.
Seriously! I am a huge, huge flake. Once I twisted my ankle and the general response to it was "Were you looking in the sky and daydreaming or at your feet and daydreaming?" (That time was thwe sky, which is why I twisted my ankle and fell rather than ran into something painful.) I don't notice much in the world around me and fail to feel the import of situations.
I've never been particularly profoundly affected by travel. I enjoy traveling, I like how it feels, but I've never really had the sensation of being some new and amazing. Sure, I like architecture and doing cool stuff, and occasionally I recognize that I'm not where I've grown up, but the feeling fades quickely. I recently had one of those "Wow, I'm so not anywhere I know."
I needed to get some passport photos taken. I found a place, walked in, stood in line, stood in line, and stood in line. Eventually, after having far too many people show up, say five words to the guy behind the counter, and move in front of everyone else, much to the chagrin and annoyance of other people in line, it was my turn. Then someone showed up.
Oh no, I was raised in Philadelphia! I can be just as obnoxious as anyone else. I said in my best Mongolian "Uchlare," which means "excuse me" or "I'm sorry," not sure which. The guy, who looked something like the star from an 80's cop drama in a track suit, turned to me, smiled, and said something I didn't understand in Mongolian. In response to my blank, deer-in-the-headlight's expression he pointed to himself and held up one finger then me and held up two. I shook my head, pointed to him, held up two fingers, and then myself with one. He smiled and nodded.
I like to pretend I won here, but am now expecting an admonishing text-message from Allison. (P.S. My phone number here is in my facebook profile. Skype-call me!)
The man behind the counter said something in Mongolian and my American tourist expression returned. He pointed to his digital camera card reader and then the picture options. I didn't see what I wanted so I mumbled something that I hope was "passport photo, please" in Mongolian. Something worked because I got four of them.
The 80's-Cop made small talk with me, as did the rest of the crowd there, commented on my picture, complemented me on my moonlight-tan skin, and giggled whenever I tried to say something about myself in broken Mongolian. (These expressions were limited to "I am a student at the National University" and "I'm an American" and "My mother is forty-two," mostly because I don't remember how old she is right now and we said she was forty-two for more than a year.)
I left, successful, clutching my pictures. I was proud enough of my accomplishment that it probably was sinful in some religion. I decided I would reward myself with a supercontik. Then I realized that in this situation normally I would call Josh, one of the three people I call "best friend in the world." I also call him "Short-pants." Feel free to laugh if you ever meet him. However, because I am in Mongolia and it is super-long distance I could not call Josh. Defeated at this, my pride dissapeared and I, once again, realized that I am in Mongolia, not "Pittsburgh without rain."
1) There is a meal of champions that can be eaten any time of the day.
2) I am in Mongolia.
Now, to explain.
1) Mongolia is a haven for people with particular unique dietary tastes. It's a positive paradise for fans of novelty food, flavored drinks, ice cream, meat, and bread. I only have interest in the first three (as you can probably tell.)
Okay, I also like bread.
So, in short, I like the food here, except for the meat--I'm working on eating it. In order to ensure I wouldn't keel over and die the first time I ate meat to be polite (having beena vegatarian since 4th grade--I just finished 16th, you do the math), my darling Soviet friends put me on a training regime of dead-animal-products.
But that's neither here nor there.
During today's lunch break I played the fool at a meeting with one of the most amazing women I've met in Mongolia (Hongorzul), the head of the psychology department (I think), and two psychology doctoral candidates who will be advising my project. This was all mediated by Allison. My presence mostly consisted of me being quiet, occasionally doing or saying something, and then everyone else giggling at me. Affectionately, I tell myself. Afterwards, without enough time for a real meal, I debated food and then came upon the Meal of Champions: Goe (there's an umlaut over the 'e' and it rhymes with 'boy') and supercontik.
Goe (imagine the umlaut for me) is one of the many "fruit drinks" available in Mongolia. These drinks are positively amazing. 'Goe' is one of the multipurpose Mongolian words that functions quite like "bella" does in Italian, if you happen to know the language. Goe can mean beautiful, great, wonderful, pretty, and just about any other positive word you can think of.
Supercontik is one of the novelty foods Allison was smart enough to introduce us to. Now, may I digress--if this whole thing isn't me digressing--for a moment and explain novelty foods here.
When I said Mongolia is a haven for novelty food enthusiasts, I wasn't joking. They get junk from China, Europe, Japan, Korea, and Russia. I'm sure other places as well, but I don't care about them right now. Most delicious things somehow combine pastry, chocolate, and occasionally "fruit flavored substance." There are wafers. There are varieties of thin, unsweetend crackers that are lightly complimented with equally thin layers or coatings of chocolate. There are lighty, puffy pastries filled with cream. Earlier, we had a trip to Naran Tuul and found these eclaires, fifty cents and big enough to constitute a meal.
Junk food here rocks.
My absolute favorite thing so far has been supercontiks. Imagine a droxie--that's a bootleg oreo for the uninitiated--but make it a size that fits comfortably in your palm (unless you have very small hands, then it's bigger than your palm.) Now, you can get these filled with chocolate, hazelnut, or vanilla. Then take the whole thing and dip it in dark chocolate, package it with between one and three more just like it, and writer 'Supercontik' on it in large, friendly letters.
Allison made a reasonable point when introducing these to us: They're not really that good. They -sound- good, but they're of a mediocre quality, all in all. However, they're everywhere. Little old women sell them on street corners. When you're hungry and have between 200 and 400 tugrok to blow on food, they're prefect because they're right there. After a while you get used to them and begin to love them. They become a comfort food just like kraft mac-n-cheese or ramen.
This is an amazing combination. It has enough sugar to keep you going untill you crash in a useless heap after spending close to an hour deep frying potatoes and garlic over an electric stove.
2) I'm in Mongolia.
This seems like a fairly obvious, and fairly stupid, thing to say. If you, dear reader, do not happen to know me as intimately as some of our other dear readers do (so if, for example, you're Michael's mom as opposed to my mom--I think only our moms read this), then here's a useful fact: I am a total flake.
Seriously! I am a huge, huge flake. Once I twisted my ankle and the general response to it was "Were you looking in the sky and daydreaming or at your feet and daydreaming?" (That time was thwe sky, which is why I twisted my ankle and fell rather than ran into something painful.) I don't notice much in the world around me and fail to feel the import of situations.
I've never been particularly profoundly affected by travel. I enjoy traveling, I like how it feels, but I've never really had the sensation of being some new and amazing. Sure, I like architecture and doing cool stuff, and occasionally I recognize that I'm not where I've grown up, but the feeling fades quickely. I recently had one of those "Wow, I'm so not anywhere I know."
I needed to get some passport photos taken. I found a place, walked in, stood in line, stood in line, and stood in line. Eventually, after having far too many people show up, say five words to the guy behind the counter, and move in front of everyone else, much to the chagrin and annoyance of other people in line, it was my turn. Then someone showed up.
Oh no, I was raised in Philadelphia! I can be just as obnoxious as anyone else. I said in my best Mongolian "Uchlare," which means "excuse me" or "I'm sorry," not sure which. The guy, who looked something like the star from an 80's cop drama in a track suit, turned to me, smiled, and said something I didn't understand in Mongolian. In response to my blank, deer-in-the-headlight's expression he pointed to himself and held up one finger then me and held up two. I shook my head, pointed to him, held up two fingers, and then myself with one. He smiled and nodded.
I like to pretend I won here, but am now expecting an admonishing text-message from Allison. (P.S. My phone number here is in my facebook profile. Skype-call me!)
The man behind the counter said something in Mongolian and my American tourist expression returned. He pointed to his digital camera card reader and then the picture options. I didn't see what I wanted so I mumbled something that I hope was "passport photo, please" in Mongolian. Something worked because I got four of them.
The 80's-Cop made small talk with me, as did the rest of the crowd there, commented on my picture, complemented me on my moonlight-tan skin, and giggled whenever I tried to say something about myself in broken Mongolian. (These expressions were limited to "I am a student at the National University" and "I'm an American" and "My mother is forty-two," mostly because I don't remember how old she is right now and we said she was forty-two for more than a year.)
I left, successful, clutching my pictures. I was proud enough of my accomplishment that it probably was sinful in some religion. I decided I would reward myself with a supercontik. Then I realized that in this situation normally I would call Josh, one of the three people I call "best friend in the world." I also call him "Short-pants." Feel free to laugh if you ever meet him. However, because I am in Mongolia and it is super-long distance I could not call Josh. Defeated at this, my pride dissapeared and I, once again, realized that I am in Mongolia, not "Pittsburgh without rain."
Classes
This week our group started our official classes at the National University of Mongolia. We have class from about 9 am to 12pm. The time is split between two sessions. Everyday we have a different combination of conversation, grammar or lectures on various Mongolian issues/topics. We are grateful for our opportunity to learn Mongolian with the professors here, because the language has many sounds that we can't distinguish and uses a sentence structure quite different from English. After classes we grab lunch from a local restaurant, and meet again around 2pm to visit museums, go to the opera, and do other exciting events that help us explore the city, and understand the culture.
This weekend we will go to the countryside! I personally can not wait!! I love the essence of the countryside here. We will travel to Terelj, which is Mongolia's first national park. We will be gone for the weekend, and we are taking our conversation teachers with us. Stay posted for reflections on our trip.
This weekend we will go to the countryside! I personally can not wait!! I love the essence of the countryside here. We will travel to Terelj, which is Mongolia's first national park. We will be gone for the weekend, and we are taking our conversation teachers with us. Stay posted for reflections on our trip.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Bulgan Bonanza!
Before moving into our apartment the group split into two to go on an excursion into the country side. Emily, Michael, Melissa, and I sat on a bus for about 5 hours next to two boys, who took turns sleeping in the aisle and eating a huge club of sausage with a loaf of bread. Mongolians can really put away meat. 90% of the ride the bus was not on a road, due to a lack of infrastructure. At our bus stop we jumped into a jeep to take us to our 1st ger family in Bulgan, a neighboring aimag (province). The thermometer in the jeep read 6 degrees centigrade, and some of us realized we weren't prepared for the cold, but we put on everything we had and were fine, chilly at most. The first family was so charming, and took us to see some amazing landscapes with rolling hills, grazing herds, and a clear gorgeous blue sky. The food was delicious, authentic, and homemade. (I am getting better at the whole idea of continuing a meal after multiple hairs have been found in the food, whether they be human or animal.) The yogurt is probably my favorite country side food. It is certainly not 99% fat free Dannon. I will definitely miss the texture, taste, and freshness of Mongolian yogurt, talk about organic- haha.
The nomadic lifestyle is impressive to me. They use only what they need, and take care of their surroundings because they depend on them. A simple philosophy that all of us could take a lesson from. It says something when you have a house without a trash can!
That night the mother carefully swept an area on the floor and lied down some rugs for us to sleep on. We took off the next morning by horse and camel to the next family. The views we saw along the way were phenomenal. I will never forget the natural beauty we witnessed. It's 360 degrees of simply nature and yourself. After our day with the second family was over everybody was busy hunkering down the ger, because there was a blizzard that night!
The next day we took a jeep back to the bus station, and spent much time exchanging stories on the 5 hour ride home. It was necessary to make each other laugh with our stories so we would be more relaxed about the bumpy ride.
Overall, it was a stellar experience. It helped me begin to further understand more about Mongolian culture, history, and pride. Now it's city time! Much to discover in UB!
The nomadic lifestyle is impressive to me. They use only what they need, and take care of their surroundings because they depend on them. A simple philosophy that all of us could take a lesson from. It says something when you have a house without a trash can!
That night the mother carefully swept an area on the floor and lied down some rugs for us to sleep on. We took off the next morning by horse and camel to the next family. The views we saw along the way were phenomenal. I will never forget the natural beauty we witnessed. It's 360 degrees of simply nature and yourself. After our day with the second family was over everybody was busy hunkering down the ger, because there was a blizzard that night!
The next day we took a jeep back to the bus station, and spent much time exchanging stories on the 5 hour ride home. It was necessary to make each other laugh with our stories so we would be more relaxed about the bumpy ride.
Overall, it was a stellar experience. It helped me begin to further understand more about Mongolian culture, history, and pride. Now it's city time! Much to discover in UB!
From the Countryside to UB
A group of us (Allie, Melissa, Michael and I) went on a trip to the countryside in Bulgan Aimag with Ger to Ger. After a 5 hours on the "road" (really just a maze of dirt paths) on the packed public bus and about a half an hour in a Russian jeep, we arrived at our first families ger. We were greeted with smiles and steaming milk tea. After a quick snack, we went outside to help the family herd some of their animals (500 goat and sheep, 4 camels, and 20 horses) and to soak in the scenery. Mongolia is beautiful. With a population of under three million, and an area of two times the size of Texas, there is a vast landscape of open space. The 360 degree view of snow capped mountains, rolling hills and steppe with little more obstructing it than the occasional ger or animal herd, is truly a sight to behold. No pictures can do it justice. After a dinner of rice and mutton, and a good nights rest, we embarked on a 21km horse trek to the next families ger.
I have rode horses before , in fact , I have worked for many years on a horse farm, but the horses (an more importantly the saddles) in Mongolia are very different from those in the states. After about ten minuets on the horse, I already had sore knees (the stirrups are high... not many Mongolians are over 6 feet tall) and a bruised butt (there is no padding... just a wooden seat). We arrived at the second ger only to find that we were going to hop on a second set of horses and go for another ride! We rode to a sand dune and swan lake. Both worth the ride to go see! That night we were in for a surprise. Despite being in a very arid climate in the 'summer' months, we went to sleep with heavy winds blowing outside, and woke up to a new landscape... the steppe and hills covered in snow! We proceeded to do what any logical group of people would do... initiate a full on snow ball fight with the 10 year old twin brothers of the family! I had a wonderful time on this trip. Despite the language barrier and drastic differences in culture, both families were incredibly kind and shared with us their homes. Next thing we know, we are back in the jeep, then back in a bus, and pulling into the bus depot back in...
our (semi) final destination, the wonderful capitol city of UlaanBaatar! It's a nice feeling to have moved into our apartment and have a stable residence for a while instead of jumping from hotel, to train, to hostel, to ger! Despite the temporary lack of hot water and therefore hot showers (a pipe broke, so half the city is left without it), the apartment is really nice. We have started classes at the National University. We have language classes every morning (split into basic and conversational Mongolian language sections). Intermixed are lectures concerning different aspects of Mongolian culture, history, environment and politics. In the afternoons, the University has arranged outing to museums, cashmere factories, historical monuments, etc.
Everyone seems pretty excited about our classes and 'field trips', I know I am!
Love, Emily
I have rode horses before , in fact , I have worked for many years on a horse farm, but the horses (an more importantly the saddles) in Mongolia are very different from those in the states. After about ten minuets on the horse, I already had sore knees (the stirrups are high... not many Mongolians are over 6 feet tall) and a bruised butt (there is no padding... just a wooden seat). We arrived at the second ger only to find that we were going to hop on a second set of horses and go for another ride! We rode to a sand dune and swan lake. Both worth the ride to go see! That night we were in for a surprise. Despite being in a very arid climate in the 'summer' months, we went to sleep with heavy winds blowing outside, and woke up to a new landscape... the steppe and hills covered in snow! We proceeded to do what any logical group of people would do... initiate a full on snow ball fight with the 10 year old twin brothers of the family! I had a wonderful time on this trip. Despite the language barrier and drastic differences in culture, both families were incredibly kind and shared with us their homes. Next thing we know, we are back in the jeep, then back in a bus, and pulling into the bus depot back in...
our (semi) final destination, the wonderful capitol city of UlaanBaatar! It's a nice feeling to have moved into our apartment and have a stable residence for a while instead of jumping from hotel, to train, to hostel, to ger! Despite the temporary lack of hot water and therefore hot showers (a pipe broke, so half the city is left without it), the apartment is really nice. We have started classes at the National University. We have language classes every morning (split into basic and conversational Mongolian language sections). Intermixed are lectures concerning different aspects of Mongolian culture, history, environment and politics. In the afternoons, the University has arranged outing to museums, cashmere factories, historical monuments, etc.
Everyone seems pretty excited about our classes and 'field trips', I know I am!
Love, Emily
travel misadventures
my first time in an airport -- probably could've gone better
so for those of you who are not completely aware of my airport misadventures -- here's the complete story....start out in pittsburgh airport where my plane is delayed for an hour. my first plane experience was pretty anti-climatic.... met some girl who was on her way to study abroad in moracco and we talked for a while. arrived in jfk with no complications. and then all the trouble started........
so after wandering to the correct terminal in jfk, i find the air china desk to pick up my boarding pass for my connecting flight to beijing. they tell me i don't have a ticket for the flight. i show the concierge the email itinerary i got showing the flight numbers, times, etc. and say that i should have an electronic ticket. however, she claims that i should already have the paper ticket and thus i will not be able to get on the plane. so naturally i start freaking out. after arguing with her for about a half hour, she gives me the number of the travel agency pitt used to buy my plane ticket. i call the guy, and he argues with me, and then the concierge about my ticket. he hangs up, calls me back, i argue with the air china lady more, and that cycle repeats a few more times for about 2.5 hours. finally, i don't know what the agency guy did, but i guess he bought me a new ticket. however, the air china lady told me all i had was a ticket to beijing and not ulaanbataar. i called the agency guy back and told him this and asked him to make sure i wouldn't have any similar problems in the beijing airport. he assured me everything would be fine. i called my parents and other people telling them my fears of being stranded in beijing and everyone told me i was being ridiculous.........
anyway, my air china flight to beijing was running 2 hours late. finally we got in the air. i was in the middle between a chinese businessman who spoke no english and a chinese woman who spoke fluent english. we had some pretty cool conversations, in particular they were intrigued as to why the hell i would ever want to go to mongolia -- they didn't even know mongolia is an independant country, which blew my mind. but anyway, we didn't get to beijing airport until 8pm, and my connecting flight to ulaanbataar left at 9:10pm. i asked them what my chances were of me catching my flight and the businessman, who i thought spoke no english at all, said one word in perfect english: "impossible." good omen, right?
so i get to beijing, and after getting in the wrong line 3 times, i end up at the international transfer desk. and guess what they told me? i didn't have a ticket to UB. surprise, i was right. so i argued with them for a while, although they knew very little english and i of course know no chinese at all, so it was pretty futile. they gave me a calling card to call the travel agency again, but no one hads a clue how to make an international call on it. so after about 45min of this, i just give up and buy a new ticket to UB. unfortunately, the flight i was supposed to take left already, and the next one wasn't until 8am the next morning. so yes, i was trapped in beijing airport.i start wandering around the airport trying to find baggage claim, which let me tell you -- if you think jfk is a huge airport... oh no, you have know idea what a big airport really is. i do find it eventually, and i go to the air china baggage office, give them my tags...... and guess what? half my luggage was lost. now keep in mind, i brought two bags with me: one was my backpack with all of my stuff, and the other was a duffle bag with my friends' tents and stuff that they all wanted me to bring. which one do we think made it to beijing? if you guessed the one that would not help me in the least bit, you would be correct.
so i started to freak out a little at this point. being stranded is one thing, but being stranded with the majority of your stuff still in a different country brought the trauma to a whole new level. now i start trying to find the air china administrative office, because the international transfer people told me that if i talked to them, they would put me up in a hotel free for the night. i asked around, but no one seemed to understand what i was trying to ask, and i couldn't understand the directions they gave me (this was when i really started to regret never taking chinese at pitt)... finally i heard some random dude saying "hotel! hotel!" so i walked up to him and said please take me to a hotel.so i get in a sketchy van and a guy drives me about two miles away from the airport to this hotel. i get there, and they tell me the special price is ~$100 for the night. i argue with them, saying that air china was supposed to pay for this, and that i'm not paying $100 for a hotel room. they talk a little bit in chinese while i stand there, and then offer me $50 for the night. i told them i just wanted to be taken back to the airport, that i wasn't even going to deal with this. they apparently thought i was trying to haggle with them, i really just wanted to go back to the airport... but the offered me $40. i just said fine, i'll take it, whatever.words cannot describe this hotel room (i took pictures and will eventually post them). but they did have a tv, and i watched chinese soap operas for an hour or so to cool down -- the great thing about soap operas is that you don't need to know what they're saying, the drama speaks for itself.
i sleep for a few hours, get my wake-up call, and head back to the airport. i catch my flight with no problems actually, get on another air china plane, and arrive in UB relatively easily.now that the ridiculousness is over, i do have to say that i was fascinated by beijing, and really felt welcome by how friendly the people i met were, despite the fact that i really wasn't able to communicate with them that well. i think that if it hadn't been for the fact that i was so sleep-deprived, angry, and without luggage, i would've enjoyed being in beijing for the night. definitely need to get back there at some point in my life.
so for those of you who are not completely aware of my airport misadventures -- here's the complete story....start out in pittsburgh airport where my plane is delayed for an hour. my first plane experience was pretty anti-climatic.... met some girl who was on her way to study abroad in moracco and we talked for a while. arrived in jfk with no complications. and then all the trouble started........
so after wandering to the correct terminal in jfk, i find the air china desk to pick up my boarding pass for my connecting flight to beijing. they tell me i don't have a ticket for the flight. i show the concierge the email itinerary i got showing the flight numbers, times, etc. and say that i should have an electronic ticket. however, she claims that i should already have the paper ticket and thus i will not be able to get on the plane. so naturally i start freaking out. after arguing with her for about a half hour, she gives me the number of the travel agency pitt used to buy my plane ticket. i call the guy, and he argues with me, and then the concierge about my ticket. he hangs up, calls me back, i argue with the air china lady more, and that cycle repeats a few more times for about 2.5 hours. finally, i don't know what the agency guy did, but i guess he bought me a new ticket. however, the air china lady told me all i had was a ticket to beijing and not ulaanbataar. i called the agency guy back and told him this and asked him to make sure i wouldn't have any similar problems in the beijing airport. he assured me everything would be fine. i called my parents and other people telling them my fears of being stranded in beijing and everyone told me i was being ridiculous.........
anyway, my air china flight to beijing was running 2 hours late. finally we got in the air. i was in the middle between a chinese businessman who spoke no english and a chinese woman who spoke fluent english. we had some pretty cool conversations, in particular they were intrigued as to why the hell i would ever want to go to mongolia -- they didn't even know mongolia is an independant country, which blew my mind. but anyway, we didn't get to beijing airport until 8pm, and my connecting flight to ulaanbataar left at 9:10pm. i asked them what my chances were of me catching my flight and the businessman, who i thought spoke no english at all, said one word in perfect english: "impossible." good omen, right?
so i get to beijing, and after getting in the wrong line 3 times, i end up at the international transfer desk. and guess what they told me? i didn't have a ticket to UB. surprise, i was right. so i argued with them for a while, although they knew very little english and i of course know no chinese at all, so it was pretty futile. they gave me a calling card to call the travel agency again, but no one hads a clue how to make an international call on it. so after about 45min of this, i just give up and buy a new ticket to UB. unfortunately, the flight i was supposed to take left already, and the next one wasn't until 8am the next morning. so yes, i was trapped in beijing airport.i start wandering around the airport trying to find baggage claim, which let me tell you -- if you think jfk is a huge airport... oh no, you have know idea what a big airport really is. i do find it eventually, and i go to the air china baggage office, give them my tags...... and guess what? half my luggage was lost. now keep in mind, i brought two bags with me: one was my backpack with all of my stuff, and the other was a duffle bag with my friends' tents and stuff that they all wanted me to bring. which one do we think made it to beijing? if you guessed the one that would not help me in the least bit, you would be correct.
so i started to freak out a little at this point. being stranded is one thing, but being stranded with the majority of your stuff still in a different country brought the trauma to a whole new level. now i start trying to find the air china administrative office, because the international transfer people told me that if i talked to them, they would put me up in a hotel free for the night. i asked around, but no one seemed to understand what i was trying to ask, and i couldn't understand the directions they gave me (this was when i really started to regret never taking chinese at pitt)... finally i heard some random dude saying "hotel! hotel!" so i walked up to him and said please take me to a hotel.so i get in a sketchy van and a guy drives me about two miles away from the airport to this hotel. i get there, and they tell me the special price is ~$100 for the night. i argue with them, saying that air china was supposed to pay for this, and that i'm not paying $100 for a hotel room. they talk a little bit in chinese while i stand there, and then offer me $50 for the night. i told them i just wanted to be taken back to the airport, that i wasn't even going to deal with this. they apparently thought i was trying to haggle with them, i really just wanted to go back to the airport... but the offered me $40. i just said fine, i'll take it, whatever.words cannot describe this hotel room (i took pictures and will eventually post them). but they did have a tv, and i watched chinese soap operas for an hour or so to cool down -- the great thing about soap operas is that you don't need to know what they're saying, the drama speaks for itself.
i sleep for a few hours, get my wake-up call, and head back to the airport. i catch my flight with no problems actually, get on another air china plane, and arrive in UB relatively easily.now that the ridiculousness is over, i do have to say that i was fascinated by beijing, and really felt welcome by how friendly the people i met were, despite the fact that i really wasn't able to communicate with them that well. i think that if it hadn't been for the fact that i was so sleep-deprived, angry, and without luggage, i would've enjoyed being in beijing for the night. definitely need to get back there at some point in my life.
More on Terelj
So I'm reading the posts about or ger-to-ger experience and wanted to add my point of view into the mix. Being able to stay with a family, in their home, was a little awkward at first. At the first ger, it became apparent that the language barrier was going to be an interesting problem for us to over come. When the herdsman picked us up from the bus stopped we were welcomed to Terelj by a short and silent ox cart ride to the ger. No one really knew how to break the ice. After an initial "hello" we didn't know where to take the conversation. We forded the Terelj river on our ox cart, reminiscent of our "Oregon Trail" days as kids playing on the computer, and very shortly came to our ger for the night. Once inside, we were greeted by the wife of the herdsman, who immediately served us tea and started dinner. Eager to break the language barrier, we broke out the mongolian phrasebooks to aid us in our slow and hesitant conversation. Soon we realized that Yelena spoke about as much Russian as our host. Between the little Mongolian we knew, the little English the couple knew, a few Russian words here and there, and the trusty phrasebooks and English to Mongolian dictionaries, we were able to communicate really well. By the end of the night, we were laughing, eating and playing card games. Always a good combination! And of course, some things always translate well, like "Sean Connery" and "Kevin Costner, Dancing with Wolves!"
Monday, June 2, 2008
What's in a Ger?
A ger (yurt) is the traditional Mongolian nomadic dwelling. Most gers have 16-18 square meters of floor space, according to the Ger-to-Ger booklet. The ger is circular, well-insulated by felt and hide. Wooden posts support the walls. An opening in the roof lets sunlight in and smoke out. A stove sits in the center to heat the ger and cook meals. When families move, they dismantle and pack the ger to bring it to a new location.
When Amber, Molly, Evan, and I traveled to Terelj National Park through the Ger-to-Ger program, we stayed in three gers. I will describe the second ger's interior in detail. A young family lived there: a husband and wife, their young daughter, and their niece.
The door, facing south, had a raised threshold. (It is polite to enter with the right foot first and proceed clockwise around the stove.) To the left of this door was an empty space on the floor. The family let a baby goat into the ger to keep warm; they tied it here, and it could lie down on a piece of canvas.
Continuing clockwise, a new stereo system rested on top of a tall orange cabinet. The cabinet contained blankets and clothes. Next to that was a bed with a metal frame and a rug on top. There was about four feet of space between the bed and the stove. The floor was covered with linoleum between the stove and the door. (Typically, men and guests sit on the left side of the ger, with the northernmost seat reserved for the man of the house. Women sit on the right.)
At the north side of the ger was a shrine, the sacred area. On these shrines, families typically place flowers and pictures. They often burn incense also. This family had a photo of the Dalai Lama smiling. The shrine is the most respected area; it is impolite to point one's feet toward it.
Next to the shrine, a beautiful green tapestry hung on the wall. A mirror perched upon a table where the wife kept her lotions and makeup. At the eastern side was an orange wooden bed; this is where the hosts slept.
Another orange cabinet contained dishes and cooking supplies. The family had a good supply of metal pots and vessels. They served us milk tea and soup in white ceramic bowls.
Completing our tour of the interior of the ger, we now turn to the stove. It was a dark brown metal affair with a tall cylindrical chimney. The stovetop had three concentric metal rings which could be lifted off to allow pots to sit directly on the fire. The family typically cooked meals in a wide, shallow metal pot. They used wood for fuel; in less-forested areas, families often use dried dung. Both the husband and wife in this ger shared the cooking.
Viewed from the outside, a ger seems very small. Inside, however, the space is used efficiently, and all basic needs are provided. To my mind, the most comforting part of this trip has been entering a warm ger after a long, cold journey.
And so it came to pass that we bade our gracious hosts farewell. However, the influence of the ger would follow us even into the city. Many families live outside Ulaanbaatar proper in "ger districts," where gers cluster together in any available space, separated by tall wooden fences. People living in the ger districts, especially those over 40 years old, often continue to wear traditional clothing.
The circular design of the ger is not confined to the countryside. Near our apartment, the wrestling palace is ger-shaped. When Melissa, Evan, and I went to a nearby Catholic church yesterday, we saw that it was constructed in the shape of a ger. The roof sloped upward to a point, and where a traditional ger would have an opening to let light in, the church had triangular panels of yellow/red/clear stained glass which warmed the sunlight as it illuminated the pews.
This weekend we will be visiting Terelj again, this time as a group. I look forward to going back (and dressing more warmly this time!).
When Amber, Molly, Evan, and I traveled to Terelj National Park through the Ger-to-Ger program, we stayed in three gers. I will describe the second ger's interior in detail. A young family lived there: a husband and wife, their young daughter, and their niece.
The door, facing south, had a raised threshold. (It is polite to enter with the right foot first and proceed clockwise around the stove.) To the left of this door was an empty space on the floor. The family let a baby goat into the ger to keep warm; they tied it here, and it could lie down on a piece of canvas.
Continuing clockwise, a new stereo system rested on top of a tall orange cabinet. The cabinet contained blankets and clothes. Next to that was a bed with a metal frame and a rug on top. There was about four feet of space between the bed and the stove. The floor was covered with linoleum between the stove and the door. (Typically, men and guests sit on the left side of the ger, with the northernmost seat reserved for the man of the house. Women sit on the right.)
At the north side of the ger was a shrine, the sacred area. On these shrines, families typically place flowers and pictures. They often burn incense also. This family had a photo of the Dalai Lama smiling. The shrine is the most respected area; it is impolite to point one's feet toward it.
Next to the shrine, a beautiful green tapestry hung on the wall. A mirror perched upon a table where the wife kept her lotions and makeup. At the eastern side was an orange wooden bed; this is where the hosts slept.
Another orange cabinet contained dishes and cooking supplies. The family had a good supply of metal pots and vessels. They served us milk tea and soup in white ceramic bowls.
Completing our tour of the interior of the ger, we now turn to the stove. It was a dark brown metal affair with a tall cylindrical chimney. The stovetop had three concentric metal rings which could be lifted off to allow pots to sit directly on the fire. The family typically cooked meals in a wide, shallow metal pot. They used wood for fuel; in less-forested areas, families often use dried dung. Both the husband and wife in this ger shared the cooking.
Viewed from the outside, a ger seems very small. Inside, however, the space is used efficiently, and all basic needs are provided. To my mind, the most comforting part of this trip has been entering a warm ger after a long, cold journey.
And so it came to pass that we bade our gracious hosts farewell. However, the influence of the ger would follow us even into the city. Many families live outside Ulaanbaatar proper in "ger districts," where gers cluster together in any available space, separated by tall wooden fences. People living in the ger districts, especially those over 40 years old, often continue to wear traditional clothing.
The circular design of the ger is not confined to the countryside. Near our apartment, the wrestling palace is ger-shaped. When Melissa, Evan, and I went to a nearby Catholic church yesterday, we saw that it was constructed in the shape of a ger. The roof sloped upward to a point, and where a traditional ger would have an opening to let light in, the church had triangular panels of yellow/red/clear stained glass which warmed the sunlight as it illuminated the pews.
This weekend we will be visiting Terelj again, this time as a group. I look forward to going back (and dressing more warmly this time!).
Ger-to-Ger in Terelj
My Ger-to-Ger experience began on a chilly summer morning. It was Monday, the 25th of May, but felt like December in the US. As Yelena, Amber, Molly, Alison, and I waited for the bus to Terelj to arrive, a heated argument broke out between two Mongolians standing behind us. I turned to see a very large man with long black hair and a mustache of impressive proportions pointing and shouting at an older man in a beige fedora and traditional herdsman's robes of a beautiful grayish sky-blue color. As he made rude gestures back at the first man, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were an intense blue color that seemed sharp enough to pierce granite. For those of you who have read the Dune novels, now I know what a freman looks like. Evidently it is a genetic trait that some Mongolians possess, dating back from before European influence.
As the two glared at each other, the bus to Terelj came into view. The crowd of people all ran to get seats on the bus, some blatantly pushing others out of the way as they jumped aboard. The bus driver stood next to the doors, shouting in Mongolian. "What's he yelling?" we asked. "'Don't push,'" Allison answered with a laugh. We fought our way through the crowd anyway and eventually got seats aboard the bus. The old man with blue eyes sat down next to me, with the other man nowhere in sight. Allison made sure that we had all gotten on safely, and then she went back to the youth hostel.
The ride to Terelj took about 3 hours. The whole way there the wind blew fiercely, throwing wave after wave of dust that blanketed our vision outside the bus for several seconds. Dust devils whirled madly towards us, sweeping down from the dusty hilltops that dotted the landscape.
When at last we arrived, a man in traditional clothing greeted us and ushered us onto a cart with a bored-looking ox attached. He spoke little English besides "Ger-to-ger," so we didn't speak much on the ride over. He drove the cart out of town and across a shallow, icy river into a sparse forest. ("Fording the river in an ox-cart!" we said to each other, recalling happy days of Oregon Trail.) We could see many gers in the woods around us. Eventually, we came to a ger with smoke happily billowing out of a small chimney, promising warmth and a hot meal. As our host led us inside, we were careful to step right-foot first over the threshold in accordance with Mongolian custom. The interior of the ger seemed much larger than I had thought when judging it from the outside. We were treated to steaming hot bowls of milk tea and mutton-noodle soup with chunks of potatoes and onions floating in it. I honestly have to say, it was one of the best soups I have ever tasted (don't worry, Mom, I wrote down the recipe!).
That evening we spoke with the family using the little Mongolian we knew and were pleasantly surprised to find that the man's wife was fluent in Russian. Yelena and Molly did an admirable job of translating what she said, and I felt that we got right along with them. We played a card game after dinner that Amber had learned in the states that we all seemed to pick up pretty fast.
The next day we rode out on horses and on the ox-cart. The horses were clearly not happy about the journey and protested so much that the man had to lead them by foot and left me to drive the ox for awhile. We road east across plains, the cold wind blowing madly the entire time, cutting through even our warm clothes. Each gust brought with it gales of dust which enveloped us before blowing off into the distance. The ox stopped several times, prompting the man to kick it in order to make it move. We traded mounts halfway through, with those who were riding on the cart mounting the horses and vice versa. As we continued the long journey to the next ger, I heard a sharp, melodious whistling sound buoyed by the wind. I turned to see a herder galloping towards us, robes billowing in the wind and fedora fluttering around his head; a true Mongolian cowboy. He offered to help lead to the next ger, which our host eagerly accepted.
When we arrived at the next ger, we found a family of four there: a young couple, the husband being 30 and the wife 26. They had a young daughter of 4 years and the husband's niece (10) was visiting with them. They were busy running their farm, and so we did not talk to them as much. We watched them round up goats and milk them outside. That night we had mutton and rice (also delicious) and were served boortsog (fried dough, easy to make and very delicious). The wife showed us her hobby, traditional embroidery. She taught us how to make the Celtic-looking designs found on traditional Mongolian dress.
The next day we moved on to the next ger. We stopped along the way at the husband's brother's ger and were served milk tea. I was invited to play what I thought to be chess at first, but soon learned to be some kind of variant of checkers. It was fun, but I came away a bit confused about just what rules they were using.
We continued to the site of the next family to find out that they were in middle of moving to their summer location (being nomadic and all). We found a women in a ger in the middle of packing. She told us that the other ger had already moved and directed us there. When we arrived, the last visitors, two Portuguese men, were just leaving. The men of the family also left to go tend their flocks, leaving us with the grandmother who was very hard of hearing.
Before leaving, the son of the family, age 18, let us play with a bow and arrow, shooting at a target outside. None of us managed to hit the target, a board about a foot across from around 40 feet away. But we came darn close a few times! As the day wore on, our hosts had still not returned. We went back into the ger to return the bow and arrows, but we found the grandmother asleep and opted not to disturb her inside. So, we wandered around outside for several more hours. With each hour, it seemed to get colder and colder, and we were shivering by the end. When our hosts finally returned, we showed them pictures of our homes and families. We had mutton-noodle soup again that night (no complaints there!). In the morning, we were to journey 8 kilometers back to the bus stop. Our host drove the ox, but insisted that only two of us ride on it while the others ran to keep up, evidently concerned that with the five of us on the cart, the ox would be slowed down.
And so began the Great Terelj Marathon. It was 5:30, and we needed to reach the bus station by 8:00. The family kindly let us wear some of their heavy coats. Nice as they were, I became far too hot despite the bitingly cold wind, and took the coat and my own jacket off. We ran through forests, dashed over open plains, and forded many rivers to get there. Every now and then, the stiff crack of stick against oxflesh punctuated the urgency of our journey. After two hours, we reached the station and had a nice chat with a French foreign aid worker doing work in the region. Being tired from the run back, I slept through much of the ride back to Ulaanbaatar, but once there awoke to many wonderful memories of our adventures in Terelj.
As the two glared at each other, the bus to Terelj came into view. The crowd of people all ran to get seats on the bus, some blatantly pushing others out of the way as they jumped aboard. The bus driver stood next to the doors, shouting in Mongolian. "What's he yelling?" we asked. "'Don't push,'" Allison answered with a laugh. We fought our way through the crowd anyway and eventually got seats aboard the bus. The old man with blue eyes sat down next to me, with the other man nowhere in sight. Allison made sure that we had all gotten on safely, and then she went back to the youth hostel.
The ride to Terelj took about 3 hours. The whole way there the wind blew fiercely, throwing wave after wave of dust that blanketed our vision outside the bus for several seconds. Dust devils whirled madly towards us, sweeping down from the dusty hilltops that dotted the landscape.
When at last we arrived, a man in traditional clothing greeted us and ushered us onto a cart with a bored-looking ox attached. He spoke little English besides "Ger-to-ger," so we didn't speak much on the ride over. He drove the cart out of town and across a shallow, icy river into a sparse forest. ("Fording the river in an ox-cart!" we said to each other, recalling happy days of Oregon Trail.) We could see many gers in the woods around us. Eventually, we came to a ger with smoke happily billowing out of a small chimney, promising warmth and a hot meal. As our host led us inside, we were careful to step right-foot first over the threshold in accordance with Mongolian custom. The interior of the ger seemed much larger than I had thought when judging it from the outside. We were treated to steaming hot bowls of milk tea and mutton-noodle soup with chunks of potatoes and onions floating in it. I honestly have to say, it was one of the best soups I have ever tasted (don't worry, Mom, I wrote down the recipe!).
That evening we spoke with the family using the little Mongolian we knew and were pleasantly surprised to find that the man's wife was fluent in Russian. Yelena and Molly did an admirable job of translating what she said, and I felt that we got right along with them. We played a card game after dinner that Amber had learned in the states that we all seemed to pick up pretty fast.
The next day we rode out on horses and on the ox-cart. The horses were clearly not happy about the journey and protested so much that the man had to lead them by foot and left me to drive the ox for awhile. We road east across plains, the cold wind blowing madly the entire time, cutting through even our warm clothes. Each gust brought with it gales of dust which enveloped us before blowing off into the distance. The ox stopped several times, prompting the man to kick it in order to make it move. We traded mounts halfway through, with those who were riding on the cart mounting the horses and vice versa. As we continued the long journey to the next ger, I heard a sharp, melodious whistling sound buoyed by the wind. I turned to see a herder galloping towards us, robes billowing in the wind and fedora fluttering around his head; a true Mongolian cowboy. He offered to help lead to the next ger, which our host eagerly accepted.
When we arrived at the next ger, we found a family of four there: a young couple, the husband being 30 and the wife 26. They had a young daughter of 4 years and the husband's niece (10) was visiting with them. They were busy running their farm, and so we did not talk to them as much. We watched them round up goats and milk them outside. That night we had mutton and rice (also delicious) and were served boortsog (fried dough, easy to make and very delicious). The wife showed us her hobby, traditional embroidery. She taught us how to make the Celtic-looking designs found on traditional Mongolian dress.
The next day we moved on to the next ger. We stopped along the way at the husband's brother's ger and were served milk tea. I was invited to play what I thought to be chess at first, but soon learned to be some kind of variant of checkers. It was fun, but I came away a bit confused about just what rules they were using.
We continued to the site of the next family to find out that they were in middle of moving to their summer location (being nomadic and all). We found a women in a ger in the middle of packing. She told us that the other ger had already moved and directed us there. When we arrived, the last visitors, two Portuguese men, were just leaving. The men of the family also left to go tend their flocks, leaving us with the grandmother who was very hard of hearing.
Before leaving, the son of the family, age 18, let us play with a bow and arrow, shooting at a target outside. None of us managed to hit the target, a board about a foot across from around 40 feet away. But we came darn close a few times! As the day wore on, our hosts had still not returned. We went back into the ger to return the bow and arrows, but we found the grandmother asleep and opted not to disturb her inside. So, we wandered around outside for several more hours. With each hour, it seemed to get colder and colder, and we were shivering by the end. When our hosts finally returned, we showed them pictures of our homes and families. We had mutton-noodle soup again that night (no complaints there!). In the morning, we were to journey 8 kilometers back to the bus stop. Our host drove the ox, but insisted that only two of us ride on it while the others ran to keep up, evidently concerned that with the five of us on the cart, the ox would be slowed down.
And so began the Great Terelj Marathon. It was 5:30, and we needed to reach the bus station by 8:00. The family kindly let us wear some of their heavy coats. Nice as they were, I became far too hot despite the bitingly cold wind, and took the coat and my own jacket off. We ran through forests, dashed over open plains, and forded many rivers to get there. Every now and then, the stiff crack of stick against oxflesh punctuated the urgency of our journey. After two hours, we reached the station and had a nice chat with a French foreign aid worker doing work in the region. Being tired from the run back, I slept through much of the ride back to Ulaanbaatar, but once there awoke to many wonderful memories of our adventures in Terelj.
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