REAL Mongolian BBQ

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Sunday, August 30, 2009

Yesterday we joined our colleagues for a "khorkhog", (a typical Mongolian BBQ/picnic event) about an hour's drive from UB.

Meat, vegetables and hot rocks are layered inside large metal milk jugs which are then placed in an open fire. (Wikipedia to the rescue: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khorkhog.)

Children play (& avoid broken glass, yes, even here in the middle of the countryside), and adults drink airag (yes, Frank finally got to try the fermented mare's milk he's been so curious about). And everyone eats a lot of good food.

We also got to see the HUGE statue of Genghis Khan that is located out in the countryside near where we picnicked--it's 120 feet high--and is, supposedly, the first installment in a Genghis Khan "theme park" of some kind.

Heroic commuting

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Friday, August 28, 2009

For our first 2 weeks of work here in UB, Frank carried out a heroic commute twice a day: load A into the bus at 7:55am, get her out at the intersection near the train tracks, (or, if you miss the bus, walk a ½ mile to the main road because taxis don't come to our neighborhood), hail a taxi, get the baby into the taxi, and ride to the babysitter’s house. After dropping off A at the sitter's, he’d hail another taxi and head for work. In the afternoon the process would repeat itself in reverse—except then he’d often be juggling A, the stroller, AND bags of groceries. Papa, the heroic commuter!

In addition to all that, I should mention that the traffic in UB is harrowing, and crossing the street is particularly scary in some places.

A week ago, we took the plunge and hired a driver for 2 hours a day. This gentleman shows up twice a day, and after Frank installs A's car seat, this guy does some amazing driving. We knew that he had served with the Mongolian army in Iraq, but yesterday we learned something new. When Frank complimented him on a particularly amazing bit of driving, he said in his few words of English: "I drove tanks in Iraq."

His name? In Mongolian it means “solid hero.”

Hero, indeed!

Pigeons & Prayer Wheels

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Monday, August 24, 2009

On Sunday mid-morning, we were whisked away to UB’s famous Gandan Monastery by a colleague and her driver. Rain clouds threatened (August is the rainy month here) but we were able to see a bit of the place before the rain really started. We learned that Sunday was one of several auspicious wedding days in the Mongolian calendar for weddings, and decorated "wedding cars" were all over the place.

We were able to enter one of the smaller temples briefly to see part of a ceremony in progress. It was a wonderful old building with monks of all ages chanting away. Of course, with a two year-old in tow, you never plan to stay long in such places.

Prayer wheels were spinning and butter lamps were glittering, but what A found truly enchanting about the place was the pigeons. Everywhere children and old women offered to sell us bird seed to feed the pigeons. But all A wanted to do was to run after them. Sadly, the chase was over when she ended up front-first on the cobblestones, covered in pigeon feathers. But the fall did not dampen her enthusiasm.

As we carried her off to the main building to peek at the 75 foot high buddha, A wailed: "A's birdie! A's birdie!"

Prayer wheels spinning:



A chasing pigeons:

Insomniac “pulla”

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Sunday, August 23, 2009

So, what do you do in the middle of the night in Ulaanbaatar when you just can’t sleep? With only two days left until school starts, my mind is just too full of ideas and questions about textbooks, class lists, and everything else imaginable. Well, first you check to see if there’s an internet connection. Since it’s the middle of the night, there is a good chance that there IS. (It’s the daytime when things are considerably less reliable.) Next option: lesson planning. But somehow, the middle of the night is not the best time for cogent lesson planning. On to the next option, then: baking. This time I thought I’d try my own version of pulla (Finnish cardamom bread). Can’t say for sure how authentic it was, but we enjoyed it. (Kiitos, K, for the kardemumma!)

1.5 cups warm milk
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon yeast (or 1 pkg)
1 teaspoon cardamom
2 teaspoons salt
flour
 

Construction Zone

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Thursday, August 20, 2009

Did I mention that we live in a construction zone? Yes, there are some downsides to this (primarily the dust), but it has also been quite fascinating as well--especially for our two year-old--

One of the interesting aspects of all this construction is the workers themselves. According to a new acquaintance of ours, it is Mongolian women and not men that often frequent construction sites. In fact, women often manage the construction sites as well.

Who, then, are the men one sees on many of the construction sites around the city? Chinese laborers.

And here you have it: look closely and you'll see a Mongolian woman "manning" the cement mixer and Chinese workers bringing the cement to and fro.

Oh, and the work goes on around the clock--it has to: once winter comes there will be no more construction until spring...

A day in the country

Terelj Area, Mongolia

Sunday, August 16, 2009

After ten days in the "big city" of Ulaanbaatar, we got out into the Mongolian countryside at last. And glorious it was! Leaving about 9:30 from our apartment on the outskirts of UB, we drove about 1.5 hours to Gorkhi-Terelj National Park. The park lies about 40 miles to the northeast of UB and while there are patches of bad road, the road is mostly quite good.

It's fantastically beautiful countryside, but I am not quite sure how to describe it--gently rolling hills with interesting rock outcrops, short grass (lots of grazing animals here), land that seems to just undulate (although rather pointily so at times).

We had a very nice lunch at one of the ger camps--where city folks and tourists go to relax and enjoy nature--and then many in our group went for a short horse ride. Indeed, this was Frank's first horse ride--

Along the way others in the group stopped to "hold" eagles--it's quite an amazing sight, too, because these trained hunting birds are BIG!

We hope to see a bit more of the countryside before the famous Mongolian winter descends...

Into the Fray

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Thursday, August 13, 2009

We arrived home to our apartment this afternoon to find a giant inflatable jumping pen in the courtyard. My first thought was that it was a birthday party, but then I realized it was some kind of publicity stunt/goodwill gesture on the part of the apartment management.

In any case, A was ready to jump right in. We quickly learned that she was a bit too young to take part in the fun, but it was awfully sweet how the older kids looked out for her…

Toddler Train-spotting

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Whereas our house in Seattle is in the flight path of the airport, our new home in UB is 300 feet from a busy train track. Freight trains and passenger trains of all kinds blow their whistles and clickety-clack down the track around the clock. A is entranced by the sight and sound of these trains. Again and again tonight she said: “I want trains.” As soon as we arrive down in the courtyard, she heads directly toward the tracks. (Don’t worry, there’s no way for her to get to the train tracks themselves.)

We sit next to the road and wait. “Mommy, I want trains!” Ah, if only I had such power to make them appear on command...

Picture: Giant insulated steam pipes snake around the city (and over the railroad tracks). These pipes form the infrastructure for the city’s centralized heating system.

Two faces of Huggies

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I have always been interested in advertisements when I travel. There is something about not being able to read the text of an ad that brings the images and layout into sharper focus. The ad in question is also a product of some interest to me these day: disposable diapers.

I saw the “girl version” first and really wasn’t quite sure what to think. There’s definitely some interesting stuff going on here.

And then Frank pointed out the “boy version” to me.

Of course, as I said, I can’t read the text. But I sure find myself wondering what the message is…

Happy Life

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Monday, August 10, 2009

After 5 days in communications isolation, Frank and I set about joining the 21st century. With our first three hours of babysitting since arriving in UB we headed out to get mobile phones. We located the Unitel office where SIM cards and telephone “plans” are sold and marched resolutely in. There we were greeted by two well dressed attendants who gestured us toward a computer panel on the wall. After some explanation, we learned that we needed to select telephone numbers from the computer kiosk. Hmmm. How does this thing work?

“You need Happy Life,” one of the young women informed us. “Happy life?” asked Frank. “What’s that? What are our options?”

“You need Happy Life,” she said.

Frank examined the touch screen more closely. “What about Dream Life?” he asked.

Upon further investigation we learned that Happy Life is a pre-paid plan and Dream Life is a “post-paid” plan. Well, then. Now that we had chosen numbers and understood the difference between Happy Life and Dream Life we were experts—and well equipped to help their next customers: two French backpackers who needed to be educated on the subtleties of this system.

One nerve-racking hour at the TEDY center later, we were the proud owners of two new cell phones, complete with cameras and MP3 players. We even left the phone center with a vague idea of how to operate the things. That was a lot of progress in 2 hours.

With one hour of babysitting remaining we went to the Mongolian version of fast food and ordered mutton dumplings and salty milk tea. And there was still 45 minutes left for a visit to the internet café.

A busy but pleasant three hours—and then time to take A home for her nap…

The door to Happiness Land is open

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Sunday, August 9, 2009

This morning it was with a sort of fierce determination that we headed out to see something of Ulaanbaatar. A park seemed like a good destination because it might be something that A might enjoy. The weather was cloudy and a suddenly chilly 55° F, but we pushed resolutely on toward Nairamdal Park. Our destination, according to the Lonely Planet, was a large park which was also the home of an amusement park that was jointly sponsored by the Japanese.

At some point it was determined that the “walk” to the park was a bit longer than anticipated, so we jumped into a cab and were soon across the street from our destination.

Or so it seemed.

Graced by a pretty gate, I thought, we’ve found it at last! But wait—what we found was a VAST expanse of green, walkways that are being reclaimed by nature and not another soul—unless you count the souls of dogs.

And why is that A is afraid of all the friendly dogs at home but instead was instantly attracted to these semi-wild ones? “Hi!” she shouted and headed off after them.

The park was grand in its layout and enormous in acreage. As we passed the building closest to the entrance, Frank remarked, “Look, the door to “Happiness Land” is open...” But despite the open building, there was no one to be seen. And where, indeed, was the amusement park promised by the Lonely Planet guide book?

A followed the dogs and examined pebbles as we enjoyed the solitude and quiet of the place. As we circled back toward the entrance we found what we’d been looking for.

First came a sign proclaiming some kind of Japanese-Mongolian partnership. And then we found the amusement park—still in its boxes.

Postscript: The next day I learned that this park has recently been sold to developers. This explains the apparently abandoned nature of the place.

Destroy Hair & Beauty Salon

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Sunday, August 9, 2009

We’ve been in Ulaanbaatar just over 72 hours now. From the windows of the school van and several taxis, we’ve managed to catch glimpses of Sükhbaatar Square and get a very general idea of the city’s layout. But let’s face it: wandering the city with a two year-old in tow (especially one on a time zone 15 hours away) is not an easy task. ☺

We have, however, perused the foodstuffs in several grocery stores around the city and observed the wisdom of buying food items when you see them: the next store will, most certainly, carry a completely different inventory.

We’ve also attended our first BBQ at the home of a colleague who lives in a sort of “Swiss Village.” The architecture of these charmingly out-of-place duplexes, which was constructed by the railroad company in the early 1990’s, definitely reminds me of Switzerland or Austria. Best of all, the neighborhood is an oasis of green in the middle of the big, busy city.

Once we’ve gotten a bit more settled, Frank and I look forward to seeing more of the city--and to getting out into the countryside!

It’s a lonely courtyard at 3:57 am

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Saturday, August 8, 2009

It’s our 2nd (jet-lagged) night in Ulaanbaatar, and I’ve just gone back to bed at 3:45am after 3 hours up with Frank and A. Frank has offered to take A out for a middle-of-the-night stroll to entertain her and to try to find the garbage dumpster.

I am just drifting off to sleep when I hear something. The distant strains of Beethoven? I take out my ear plugs. Sure enough, it’s the security panel at the front door playing Beethoven’s Fur Elise (not that I would know the name of the piece, but that’s what Frank tells me).

I am thinking, I KNOW Frank took his keys. What is this?!? I fumble with the buttons on the panel (which are all labeled in Chinese) and manage to disconnect Frank. Several buttons later, Frank’s fuzzy image returns to the mini video screen. “Yes, dear?” Frank says: “My key broke off in the lock!” I struggle to think clearly: Find YOUR keys and go rescue them. Don’t manage to add to the problem by locking the whole family out of the apartment at 4am!

When I arrive at the ground floor entrance, I find A with her nose pressed to the glass door and Frank clutching what remains of his key. “Thank god you were still awake,” he says.

How does one “break” a key in half anyway?

Later the next day, Frank takes our remaining key to the nearby supermarket to get a copy made. The keymaker sniffs when he sees Frank’s key and holds up a magnet to it. The magnet doesn’t stick to the key. He produces a blank key and sticks the magnet on it. Frank returns happily to the apartment with three new steel keys.

After dinner we return from a lovely party. Just as I finish regaling the group with Frank’s middle-of the-night key adventures, the newest teacher to arrive puts her key in the door and, bingo, another key bites the dust.

We give her our extra key and wonder: What are these keys made of anyhow?

How to move to Mongolia in 10 Easy Steps

Seattle, Washington
Monday, August 3, 2009

When that job offer in Mongolia comes through, here’s the list you’ll need to make it onto the airplane…

1. Get a roll of accounting tape: you’re going to need it for all the lists you’ll make
2. Write down EVERY moving-related task that occurs to you--otherwise you’ll keep waking up in the middle of the night wondering about the same stuff
3. Indulge your mother’s penchant & skill for on-line shopping. (Despite the “wonders of the Web”, shopping in July for -25 Celcius weather is not a straightforward task.)
4. Craigslist is your new best friend (great for finding renters, selling cars, and giving away stuff)
5. Find renters you trust AND like—it’s a great relief
6. Accept moving and cleaning help from friends and family: you’re going to need it
7. Accept your mother and step-father’s generous offer to move into their house for the last week before you go. Otherwise, you may never get the house cleared out…
8. Start a mental inventory of everything in your house. There are six possible categories: Stuff to take, Stuff to ship (that you won’t need right away), Stuff to give away, Stuff to throw away, Stuff to store for your return, and Undecided
9. When the “Undecided” stuff is finally down to a smallish pile, toss it all in a box and stash somewhere--you are free at last...
10. Thank all those who helped profusely—you couldn’t have done it without them!
    

Picture: Frank with a truckload of “Undecided” items…