Ulaanbaatar, MongoliaSaturday, 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?
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?
