Mongol Chuud Sportond Ikh Durtai

I grew up with a healthy dose of competitiveness. I was always in sports. I had two older brothers who never let me win. Like my Mongolian counterparts, if something is made into a competition, I am around 80% more likely to participate. Which is why I bundled up in layers of clothing, headed out in to -30 degree weather, and arrived at my school’s gym for what would be a seemingly never-ending sports-off.

My training manager told me the event would start at 9 am, adding “You are a foreigner and always on time. Please don’t come at 9.” The first game began at 11. As frustrating as it can be at times, I am growing accustomed to “Mongol Time:” life does not need to be rushed. There is nowhere you need to be so urgently that you should pass up what you might see on the journey. I think it’s a good lesson. Anyway, we gathered in our tiny foreign language office to change into our “game shirts” (pink t-shirts boldly stating “Roca Wear: sexy since 1999”) and then added sticky numbers to the back while hot milk tea and bread was passed around. We were ready.

Lunch Break

Second Dinner

There were 8 teams in the volleyball tournament. Meanwhile, chess and ping pong tournaments were being held in different rooms. The teachers who were not playing brought us home-cooked food to eat between games. I was reminded of the Team Moms from my youth who always supplied orange slices, fruit snacks, and Gatorade to be quickly devoured by hungry children who had just finished a softball game before running off to play on the playground. Our game fuel was a little different though. After a bready breakfast, huushuur was brought for lunch: fried dough pockets of meat and onions. I was handed a filling bowl of milk tea instead of tart and fruity sports drink. A few games later, the ritual was replicated, this time with bansh (steamed meat-filled dumplings), milk tea, and boov (sweet pastries, this type was fried like a donut). I was trying to avoid greasing up my sweet jersey with all of the savory treats, but with dinner completed, we had play-off games to start. A huge crowd gathered in the gym. Students appeared out of nowhere to cheer on their teachers. Hecklers from other departments were shouting their best attempts. We finished the tournament as champions, undefeated in every match, at around 10 pm, at which time I was summoned to come eat dinner in one of the classrooms. Confused and still full, I was thrusted a heaping plate of tsuivan (an oh so delicious noodle dish) with a side of budaatai huurag (a rice and meat mixture). More milk tea was poured and congratulatory chocolates were devoured. In just one day, I consumed all three of Mongolia’s national foods between rounds of intense volleyball matches. I found myself aching in that classroom with joy, despite the incredibly bruised knees I had gotten diving for balls on the ancient wooden gym floor, proud of the team I was a part of and lucky to call so my friends.

Exhausted, I got up to leave and get some rest from a long day. I was stopped at the door and begged to play in the basketball tournament, which was starting at 11 pm. I tried to wrap my head around this impossibility. “Ta nar onoo oroin surguuliin dotor untax uu?” “Are you going to sleep in the school tonight?” I asked with a laugh. I explained that they would not want me on their team, even if I wasn’t falling asleep, and retreated back home after retiring my jersey and suiting up for the cold, smiling from a Saturday spent at school.

"I see the winter. She's crawlin' up the lawn."

Baganuur, from the steppe

So winter officially started last week with the solstice. Mongolia, being a landlocked country bordered by the Himalayas in the south and the Siberian High—a mass of high-pressured cold, dry air—in the north, has one of the harshest winter climates in the world. Thrilling. Back in the day, herders developed a system to monitor the passing winter season despite their lack of access to Gregorian calendars. Thus, the 9 9’s of the Mongolian winter was established following the lunar calendar. This measurement is 9 sets of 9-day periods, each categorized by a different winter “happening.” Here’s the breakdown:

Beyond my apartment building

1^st 9: milk vodka congeals and freezes

2^nd 9: vodka congeals and freezes

3^rd 9: tail of a 3-year old ox freezes

4^th 9: horns of a 4-year old ox freeze

5^th 9: boiled rice no longer congeals

6^th 9: roads become visible under the ice

7^th 9: hilltops appear

8^th 9: ground becomes damp

9^th 9: warmer days set in

Pollution from the ger district

Cows in the ger district

Supposedly, the 3^rd and 4^th nines are the worst. Regardless, we’ve got 81 days of winter ahead, a confusing fact to reconcile since we haven’t seen temperatures above 0F in over a month already.

An ovoo outside my town

Yesterday, however, was a warmer day (only -10F or so). Since the sun was out, I decided to take a hike out beyond my town’s limits. I was greeted by frozen steppe shadowed by distant mountains. Mongolia is the least densely populated country in the world, a statistic that is immediately remembered upon gazing out into the distance. I thought to myself, If I could climb to the top of that hill, I will see evidence of people on the other side. If I make it to the horizon of the steppe, another town will magically appear. However, I’ve travelled enough to know that many towns, including mine, are hours from the next. In only three minutes, I was beyond my apartment block in utter nothingness. The calm was beautiful.

The Christmas dog we let thaw inside

With the onset of winter came Christmas. I went to Ondorkhaan, the aimag center of Khentii Aimag, the province that my town borders. I have several friends who live in the town center, and it was great to spend the holidays with familiar faces. We had a non-traditional Christmas Eve dinner: macaroni and cheese, stuffing, biscuits, and chicken. We made up for the lack of turkey with the array of pies that were present, including pumpkin, apple, and peanut butter. We exchanged white elephant gifts (I gave phone units and received a can of baked beans and a can of mixed vegetables!) and since 3 other volunteers and I bought controllers at the electronics black market in UB when we visited for Thanksgiving, we also were able to play multiplayer Golden Eye 007 (that’s right.) on our computers. Nothing says it’s Christmas like using the cheats to unlock all weapons! Albeit, it was strange to not be fighting my brothers for first player as we did when we were kids. The next day, we celebrated Christmas by eating too much Chinese food a la “A Christmas Story.” Overall, I had a wonderful holiday and am blessed to have such great friends here and such a supportive family back home (whom I got to Skype on Christmas!).

Christmas Eve dinner!

I hope that the holidays have found you happy and healthy. Today, I’ll be ringing in the New Year with my sitemates (14 hours before you folks!). Happy New Year! Шинэ жилийн мэнд хүргэe!

I'll leave you with cows in blankets. Eating the garbage.

Something's in the air this time of year...

"The 10 Most Air-Polluted Cities in the World"

Happy breathing!

Edit: Air Pollution-Related Deaths Statistics

"Have you take a medicine?"

For the past several days, I have been sick with a pretty bad cold. It is my second this “winter,” the first being only three weeks ago. Until this point, I had remained very healthy in my new home. But I guess the weather is getting to me.

I’ve avoided going outside, and have been sleeping most of the day. On Saturday, I managed to make a big pot of my granny’s chicken and dumplings, and that lasted me until today. This morning, I called my training manager at school and told her I wouldn’t be coming in. Several hours later, around lunchtime, I heard a knock at my door. Hesitant to answer, I got out of bed and looked through the peephole.

Three of my teachers, Enkhjargal, Bayartsetseg, and Sarantuya, were standing outside. I let them in and was overwhelmed with an onslaught of hospitality. My friends had brought me everything they thought I might need to get better: lemon juice, garlic, vitamin c, chocolate, some horse meat, and soup made from the meat. They poured me some soup immediately, and we talked for a while. They told me what each remedy was for: put the lemon in tea, cook with the garlic, the horse meat will keep you the warmest in winter, melt the chocolate in hot milk before bed. When they discovered that I had just ran out of milk, Bayartsetseg even went back out in the cold to get me some from the store across the playground. When lunch was finished, Sarantuya wanted to leave the rest of the soup with me to have as leftovers, but unfortunately, my only pot was still in the sink from the chicken and dumplings. Enkhjargal quickly began to wash it out, despite my attempt to beat her to it. I was told to go back to bed, and that she was happy to clean my dishes for me. After reminding me to wear my hat and scarf whenever I go outside, they left.

I don’t know what I did as to be so lucky to work with such wonderful people, that even when I cancel class on them, they still come and help me. I can only hope to be as selfless and generous as they are in return.

6 months down...

6 months ago, I left my familiar home for a place I had only read about. I didn’t yet know about the great friends I would make, both with my fellow volunteers and my Mongolian counterparts, the family from the tiniest, isolated town that I would grow to love even through our language barriers, the customs that would become my daily routines, or the weather that would make me redefine any notion of seasons I had ever held. I didn’t know how much I would cherish letters sent from home or the single can of jalapenos that I have been saving, but I knew that I was in for an adventure.

Despite living alone, I have been cared for by many people. Through the magic of the internet, I am able to call home often. When I have a problem, my counterparts are quick to my rescue. With my first cold of the winter arrived teachers to my home, bringing tea and chocolates, giving me remedies for my illness. I feel compassion from the members of my community with whom I interact. It is shown in my store lady’s concern: “Make sure to dress warm. It’s good that you live close.” It’s in the students who follow me to and from school yelling, “Bagshaa!” reminding me of my role as their teacher, and it’s in the ones who scribble down lyrics to Mongolian pop songs for me, reminding me of my role as their friend.

I am thankful for my past 6 months in Mongolia, for my friends and family back home, and for the ones that I have made in-country. Happy (belated) Thanksgiving to you all!

End of First Quarter: Struggles and Successes

We have reached the end of the first quarter of classes. Next week, I’ll have fall break to relax and celebrate surviving 9 weeks in the Mongolian school system. To commemorate, I thought I’d archive some of my struggles and successes.

—Struggles—

Class size: My 9^th grade class has 39 students. My fifth grade, 42. These are my largest classes (which I solo teach) and classroom management is extremely tiresome. Logistically, I just do not have enough resources to keep my 3 ½ dozen students occupied at all times with out someone getting off task. Group work, while ideal, is nearly ineffective, because since the groups are so numerous, it makes assessment practically impossible. Therefore, I am left without knowing whether my students comprehended the material or not.

Material: I do not work from books in any of my classes, so I am the sole opinion on what curriculum we should cover. Sounds great in theory: I can teach what I want, when I want. But I want to be preparing my students to meet whatever goal they have for learning English. And since this is my first time teaching English as a foreign language, I do not always know what is the most helpful way to learn what I am realizing to be a very intricate and complicated language.

Resources: Teachers have to supply their own resources—paper, chalk, markers, anything you might need to use in class. Having a very small living budget and class sizes that make creating effective resources the biggest challenge ever, I constantly have to decide whether or not a certain visual or manipulative is really vital to whatever lesson I’m teaching. Plus, I’m running out of single-sided handouts from Pre-Service Training that I’ve been recycling by printing on the other side.

Weather: It’s getting cold.

That got pretty lengthy. Nothing is terrible.

—Successes—

Clubs: I have started two clubs at school, a drama club for students in 7^th-9^th grades, and a song and poem club for students in 4^th-5^th grades. These have easily become my favorite classes and the highlight of my week. My class size is small—less than 25 students, and I get to teach whatever I want (I realize this sounds like my previously listed struggle, but in this context it is wonderful). The idea is that these are English clubs, but we are practicing our skills through drama and poetry. I get to revive games and warm-ups from my repertoire that I used to play back in my theatre days, and I get to incorporate fun songs for my little kids complete with hand motions and everything. Also, I get to teach these two classes in our school’s “art room,” which is like a dance room with mirrors and a stage. I use the mirrors to write down dialogue or song lyrics with a marker, and my kids eagerly circle around to see what we’ll be learning next. I just broke up my drama kids into pairs for their first scene, and they have been adorable with it. My song kids know “If you’re happy and you know it” and “The Moose Song.” It is fun to be out of desks for the hour.

Phone Calls from Eej: Weekly, I talk on the phone with my host mom from Orkhon. I get a chance to practice my Mongolian and get caught up on life back in my soum. Recently, she told me that one of our hashaa dogs, Mojgai, had 3 puppies. Other newsworthy information: the cows were fine, the river was freezing over, my siblings will come home soon, and my host dad was sleeping in the other room. Eej always asks if I’m warm and eating food. I tell her I am both. I tell her that I may visit in February for Tsaagan Sar, and that би танд дандаа сандаг—I miss you always.

Cooking: I didn’t lie to Eej; I am eating. In fact, I really enjoy cooking here with what I can find. I have only one burner and one pan, but I make due. Last month, I bought a rice cooker, and it gets the job done. I need to figure out what I’m going to make to bring to Thanksgiving in UB.

Traveling: Last weekend, I successfully traveled to UB alone. As in, I navigated the insanity that is transportation in Mongolia, and arrived safely where I should have, and then made it back to the bus station, bought a ticket, and made it home. This was my first trip back to the capital since being there one night after Swearing-In in August, and it was my first time exploring the city. Cheesburgers! Bacon! Escalators! I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, more confident in my abilities to take a trip there when I need to.

With a quarter of the school year complete, I’m still at times shocked to remember that I’m living in Mongolia. Life is feeling routine. Both the struggles and the successes I have here are just a part of my normal daily life. Here’s to fall break!

October Happenings

As October has left, so have the leaves on the few trees lining the streets of Baganuur. Now, ice covers the sidewalks where children slide to school. I have been busy this month. For a week, I went to daily acupuncture sessions at the hospital in hopes of quelling the migraines that plague me. After following the smell of tea, I arrived in the alternative medicine wing where my doctor manipulated ten small needles in various pressure points. Then, small cups were suctioned to my back with a hand pump and moved around to increase circulation in a practice fittingly called cupping. I was also told to not touch cold things. Good to know. No word on the effectiveness yet, but the sessions let me get some relaxation, at least.

A poster my 9th grader drew: Alcohol as a Magnet

October was also the proud parent of Alcohol Awareness Week—a nation-wide outreach project to educate the population on the risks that can accompany the country’s dangerous affair with overconsumption. The theme of this year’s campaign was “peer pressure,” aptly chosen, considering the cultural customs that surround drinking here make it very difficult to turn down alcohol when it’s offered, as doing so can be viewed as offensive. I’m also highly suspicious that there is an old wives’ tale that Mongolian vodka has a one-hour shelf life—that it will go bad if you do not finish the bottle once you open it. Or so people seem to believe. For this year’s activities, my sitemates and I involved our police department, our children’s center, and even our governor’s office. We held a competition between the two main school complexes in my town.

The Man Who
Wanted to be
as Strong as a Wolf

Fetal Alcohol
Syndrome

Each school selected winning posters from 9^th grade that fit the theme, a winning AXA (ah ha) team from 10^th grade, and two winning ACK (ask) teams from 11^th grade to compete against the winners from the other school complex. Enter note on Mongolian competitive nature: Mongolians are competitive. A few weeks ago, my teachers drafted me to play in a volleyball tournament that started at 7 pm on a Tuesday night. Our team took first place and the 100,000,000 Tugrik prize around 12:30 in the morning. However, the tournament victory was not enough, because it was at this point when we started playing side games for funsies. On a school night. After over 5 hours. C’mon. Anyway, we knew the kids would be all for the competition. We held the event at our town’s culture center, and it started only an hour after it was supposed to. Not too bad. AXA is a game show-type activity where students have to answer questions on stage and if they get one wrong, they have to remove one of three sticky stars they have placed on their chests (humiliating for a Mongolian who prides awards and recognition of success, trust me, but they adore AXA). 

All of the ACK teams

An ACK skit

ACK is a performance competition. Students create skits on the theme, and have to make a team name and introduction, and also have to answer questions from a panel. It is quite the production, and it was really neat to watch. Though I couldn’t understand all of the skits, they were quite dramatic and really portrayed how much alcohol has affected the lives of some of these kids. After all was said and done, winners were picked and prizes were awarded. More importantly, certificates were bestowed that will be filed away in students’ book o’ certificates that they undoubtedly have at home and that documents every success they have ever achieved. Certificates are no joke here.

pizza!

okonomiyaki!

After we wrapped up Alcohol Awareness Week, we threw a Halloween party for our friends here who are other volunteers from Japan and Korea, as well as a few co-workers. Our party was their first interaction with Halloween, so we did our best to make it authentic. We told them to come in costume, and they did a great job. I fashioned a robot get-up from old care packages that was stellar at masking my lack of creativity when it came to dance moves. We made pizza and our Japanese friends brought an assortment of their own delicacies. We had candy and drinks and even a pie. We made good use of the spigot half of one of our water filters to make a punch bowl for “pink drink” (too reminiscent of Pepto-Bismol for comfort) and kept everything else cold in our bathing tumpins using snow we gathered outside (genius). We had a very successful night indeed.

Now as October has wrapped up, I realize that I have been in Mongolia for 5 months. Moreover, I have almost been at my permanent site longer than I was at my training site, a new milestone in itself. Each day, the time I spent in Orkhon learning Mongolian, growing to love my host family, herding cows, making friends, climbing mountains, swimming in the river, and soaking up the sun feel more distant, especially as a permanent cloud of grey swallows the impending winter sky. Still, I have fond memories of the days in the heat, and after each phone call with my host mom, I daydream of returning to visit.