It isn't always Cultural

Camels and Snow.....never put those together before!

Every relationship comes with its hiccups and disconnects. From what I share here, you may infer that Zorig and I never have a disagreement. That is, of course, not true. We are two human beings making a life together and while things are far more often peachy and keen, we do have our moments.

When we have miscommunications, or disconnects (as I like to call them), I have to spend time discerning the heart of the matter. Something I picked up on early from one of my (wise) fellow American Wives is that it isn't ALWAYS cultural. Being in an interracial, or more clearly stated--intercultural marriage or relationship--can cause one to assume that any and all differences stem from the differing cultures. But let's not forget that there are a variety of differences. To get started, I'm a female, he's a male. Next, we are two human beings with a history of unique experiences that have shaped and molded us into who we are. Then we have differing educational backgrounds. Born the same year, age difference doesn't create much difference. However, Z's childhood and youth was spent under the influence of socialism, Mongolia becoming an independent nation in the early 90s. He's lived in the U.S. and in Japan. Before now, I've only ever lived in America (funny to realize that in some ways, my life has been far more sheltered). This of course shapes our outlooks and perspectives. 

Late night shopping outing

Finally, there are the race and culture cards. Race, although it makes us look different from one another, has nothing to do with how we interact or relate to one another. No. It's all about culture. How the cultural and social mores we were raised with make us act and react to things in our daily lives. This impacts our expectations, or lack there of. It influences how we process things, how we speak to others, and what we do in given situations. It provides the structure of our interactions with others and was the model we were given on interacting with and engaging with others. 

I will try to provide a couple of examples of cultural differences:

• How couples spend time together socializing:
• In the U.S., couples spend time together--both outside at restaurants, social gatherings, etc, as well as inviting one another into homes for meals and social interaction. There are "girls nights out" and boys gather for fantasy football or poker nights, but couples do gather together.
• In Mongolia, couples do not often get together with other couples, and rarely do they invite visitors into their homes. Here in Mongolia, the boys go out together, and girls meet up too--almost always outside at restaurants/bars. It's a fairly gender segregated social life.
  
• How people manage their time:
• In the U.S., people are generally run by their calendars and schedules. Plans are made days, weeks, months, sometimes even years out. Shoot, my family has a once-every-5-years-Christmas-extravaganza in Michigan (coming again in 2016!!!). We coordinate children's activities as well as scheduling our own appointments. From everything like massages, to book clubs, to aforementioned girls night out, we have a plan for it all. And often....if we DON'T schedule it, it doesn't happen. 
• In Mongolia, it's all about the here and now. There is no expectation of a plan for tomorrow, or for the weekend, or for the holiday season. You make it up as you go and a full blown party celebration can be whipped together in a matter of hours, it seems. As a girlfriend recently told me, Mongolians really aren't thinking much past the current beer they may be drinking or meal they may be ingesting. It's just not who they are. 

I'm sure there are plenty of other examples, but those two are significant, I think, and should help you see how different American and Mongolian cultures can be from one another. Those of you that know me.....know that I am a planner and organizer. Therefore, you know that second one is a HUGE challenge. Some of the miscommunications between us stem from me being surprised or caught off guard by newly emerging events. I get frustrated there is no warning or planning. Sometimes I want to take that frustration out on my "boys." BUT.....it's not like they knew and didn't tell me. The events are truly emerging in the moment (entire school breaks can be changed overnight!). It's normal, everyday life to them; to me, it upsets the plan and doesn't fit into my expectations.

Pollution, like clouds, makes for a nice sunset.

After a recent disconnect caused by an unexpected change of events, I learned something else. Upon trying to apologize for my poor behavior (when I over-reacted), I asked Z for forgiveness. He said he didn't know about forgive, only that he forgets some things. I pressed on and explained the process of forgiveness. He thanked me for the lesson, but said he really doesn't know that feeling. 

Like a regular female, I at first thought he was being difficult. But a fellow foreign teacher encouraged me to ask a Mongolian (female) co-worker about it. What great advice! And I'll be darned......forgiveness is not, it seems, a general practice and/or experience for Mongolians. 

I had assumed that forgiveness was a universal. Seems not so. Though I'd guess that Mongolians who have converted to some form of Christianity have learned what forgiveness is and how to offer and receive it, it is NOT part of their everyday culture. Also if they've lived abroad for any amount of time, they may know about forgiveness. I like to be careful and not make sweeping generalizations--so please know that like any general statement, it's not an absolute. I am not Mongolian and am left to learn from Zorig, Enji, and my host of growing Mongolian friends and co-workers. I thank them for their willingness to share with and to educate me on this new world and culture. 

So no, Zorig and I's disagreements aren't always about our cultural differences. In this instance, the disagreement wasn't cultural (more about my poor over-reaction), but the resolution process was most certainly cultural. Asking for forgiveness from someone that doesn't relate to the feeling or process makes it a hollow experience. I can offer it, but there isn't the completion of the cycle. Instead I wait for time to pass, for him to forget or let go of it, usually a matter of hours, perhaps a day or a little more, and then we are back to good. 

Oh, I can try and teach him about forgiveness, sure. But through the process I'm learning how to behave differently, so as to not be in need of asking for it in the first place. But, we are human. Our relationship is yet new and we are still fitting all the pieces together. Most important, we both have patience and the commitment to communicate and sort things out. Who knows....in a couple of years maybe I won't even notice how fast plans have changed and will be a ghost of the girl that handed her mother an itinerary of events when she arrived to visit. As I know, one can never be sure what will happen next in this life. Especially if you open yourself up to possibility and are willing to move through the growing pains that come with honest change. And remember, assumption serves no one. 

The Technology Cleanse

On October 28th I lost my iPhone. Initially I thought I had been pickpocketed, but upon reflection (that whole retrace-your-steps-thing that our parents teach us when we are young) I am 95% sure that I simply dropped my phone in the dark while walking home after dinner with a friend in Zaisan. 

It was the first day that I used my brand new, and Handmade in Mongolia, leather purse. I was only just learning the pockets and placement of things. I remember getting off the bus, crossing the busy street, and while walking across the small concrete park in front of the Performing Arts building, I checked the time on my phone. Then I lifted the flap to place the phone back inside the purse. When I arrived home 10-15 minutes later, the phone was nowhere to be found. It would have been nearly impossible for the phone to be stolen--I was never in a crowd, no one bumped into me or was within arms reach of me, and my purse was carried across my body and in front of me where I was holding a small bag of groceries. Yes, I have no one to blame but my own carelessness.

This loss meant that I was forced into a "technology cleanse." It required time to analyze my options and make a decision about how to replace the phone, and then the necessary time to get it done. It's difficult to get verified products here in Mongolia. I opted to work through a friend that works with Apple and could hook me up with a good discount (Thanks again!!). Once ordered, then the phone had to arrive to my stateside support team, and from there to be shipped to me Mongolia.

It departed the U.S. on November 16th. On November 26th it showed as having arrived in Ulaanbaatar by way of Turkey. However, when Z went to the Post Office to inquire, they said that is was still in Turkey. I began to become suspicious. It was December 7th at this point and I didn't understand how my package could be MIA for nearly two weeks. 

One cannot survive long in this modern world without a phone of some sort. I initially went two full days without any phone and I experienced a strange mix of fear and freedom. Zorig acquired for me a "primitive phone"--an old Nokia--to get me through until my new smart phone would arrive. It certainly did the job, I could make calls and I could send and receive texts. Though, texting the old-school way is work. One of my friends actually replied to a text asking, "are you okay? are you upset or something? Your messages are so short." I simply reminded her that I didn't have a swype keyboard, or even a full keyboard for that matter. 

As much as I missed being connected in all the ways a smart phone allows us to be, I also realized that I let go of those compulsions to SEE if someone was connecting with me. I simply didn't look at my phone as much or use it as much. Instead of texting a co-worker, I walked downstairs to their classroom. Or, I actually called them and spoke to them. Yes, there was something lovely about the freedom that came with only having a primitive phone. 

My cityscape will be white for months.

Update: On Friday, December 11th, Zorig went to the Central Post Office again to inquire. This time, they had something. My box had apparently gotten wet while in transit. I don't mean damp, I mean wet to the point where the cardboard came apart from itself at the bottom of the box. Also, some of the shipping information had been lost. 

When I met him at the post office after work to sign for my "package," the PO worker lifted a huge sealed sack up onto the counter. I told Z, "there must be someone else's stuff mixed up with mine. My box was not this big." But once I signed and they cut open the zip-tie on the bag, I'll be darned if not every single item shipped to me was inside that fallen-apart-box-inside-the-bag. My moccasins, new t-shirts for Z, my supply of disposable face masks for the winter, my mail (including a Kohls credit card), AND my new iphone, case, and cover. The moccasins and my mail were yet damp, but dried out in no time at home. I was astonished. Happily astonished.

On the walk home from the Central Post office we stopped in at Mobicom, our phone provider here, and activated my new phone. She's a beauty. I missed having the ability to access FB Messenger more than anything else. I think I used to have 3-4 screens of apps; now I have less than two. I can't hardly remember what I used or liked to have. Funny how just 6-7 weeks can have a person forgetting so much of what had been a daily use. What's the lesson there? I suppose I didn't really need those apps in my life. 

As I readjust to life with a smartphone once again, Im also paranoid of losing it again OR having it stolen from me. Vigilance and awareness are key. I have yet to feel unsafe in UB--and I walked home from the Central Library at 1 am on Saturday after the ASU Christmas party wrapped up. There were a surprising number of people out and about. I never felt threatened or afraid. But then, thievery is a passive crime--and from what I've heard, you often do not know it's happened until after the fact. There is something spooky about that. And so I'm leary and afraid of being it's victim. 

But, there were lessons learned in this episode of my adjustment. Don't check your phone so much. Keep the ringer off and do not pull it out on the bus. Seal it away in an internal pocket. Don't be so obsessively compulsive to check it for contact or messages--they can wait. Yes, it's far more important to Just Be. Be aware of your surroundings. Be engaged with the people in your space. Move smartly. Make intentional choices. 

I have 3 days of work left. There are 9 days until Christmas. I don't know how to do Christmas here--so stay tuned for a post on what it feels like to be spending this Christian holiday in a land that is predominately Buddhist. 

Driving? No. Water? Yes.

After our Thanksgiving Dinner at Rosewood

I often get the following question from stateside family and friends about my new life in Mongolia: "What has been your biggest surprise?" This reminds me of the question I got numerous times before departing the U.S.: "What do you think you will miss the most?"

Surprisingly, what I predicted I would miss is not missed; and those things which surprise me are everyday mundane things I could not have predicted. Allow me to elaborate on my answers here.

My prediction was that I would miss having the freedom that came with owning a car, and being able to drive wherever I wanted, when I wanted. On the contrary, I do not miss owning or driving a car at all. Nor do I miss the cost of a car loan and the required insurance to accompany it. 

I ride the school bus to and from school, there are public buses that run all the time, and one can hail a taxi from nearly anywhere (or call one if you need one off the beaten path). Each of these options is affordable. The school bus is free. A ride on the public bus costs just $0.25. And taxis charge $0.40 to $0.50 per kilometer, no matter how long it takes to travel the distance. It can be frustrating to spend 30-40 minutes traveling less than 4 miles, BUT it's comforting to know that the meter isn't ticking upwards. Sometimes I do think it would be nice to have a vehicle to LEAVE the city....but that doesn't constitute incurring the costs that come with it. At least not yet.

Now......as for what has surprised me, it all revolves around personal hygiene. First and foremost, I miss the public water in the U.S. And I don't mean for drinking. I mean for bathing. The water here is hard and I'm yet struggling to find the best shampoo/conditioner for my hair. I had shipped myself three of my favorite shampoos and conditioners, but they are all of the volumizing type and NOT something that works well with the hard water. They make my hair lifeless and flat. Also, my hair seems to get oily fast. I've tried the apple cider vinegar rinse I read about online. It does seem to help. This weekend I came across Suave Daily Clarifying shampoo at my nearest Good Price market--wow.....never thought a cheap, ordinary, everyday brand would be so great! I'll be heading back over to that market this weekend to stock up on this!!

Secondly, the cycle of bathing is different in the winter time. When Zorig first told me that I could NOT shower/bathe everyday come winter, I thought he was kidding. What an absurd thought! BUT......after being scolded numerous times by him AND putting the topic out there for my fellow American Wives to weigh-in on....it turns out he's correct. Not only is Mongolia a COLD country, it's also very DRY (yes, drier than it was in Colorado!). Add to those elements the pollution, and well, one has to use different tactics for protection. You need your natural oils to keep you moisturized and to protect against cold and infection. I am in the process of adjusting to showering/bathing just 2-3 times per week. However, I wash my face every morning and night and wash my hair more frequently (occasionally skipping a day here and there).

Here you also learn that being healthy and smart *should* trump fashion and vanity. Zorig teased me because I did not wear a hat for the 15 minute walk to our Thanksgiving dinner on November 28th. It's true....vanity overtook my smarts. My hair looked especially good and I wanted to keep it that way for pictures with Zorig and Enji. I'm happy to say I am satisfied with the pictures we snapped at the end of the evening. I DID wear my hat for the walk home.

I recently had my first illness since arriving on July 2nd. I'd say that's pretty good. As teachers know, an elementary school is a petri dish of bugs and illnesses. Add to that my constant interaction with books touched and passed around, well, it was bound to happen. I was sick for about 2.5 weeks. I think this was my first *real* cold in years. Classic rotation through the symptoms: sore throat, fever, cough. It wrapped up with a sinus infection (probably from the pollution?) and a dry cough. I am now fully recovered and was glad that my body healed itself. Of course now Zorig is under the weather. Oh the joys of living together and sharing germs along with the kisses. :)

Enjoying a Satisfied Life

Cheers to being Content & Satisfied

I can't say I've spent much time thinking about stress. I wouldn't say I'm a person that has suffered from it much as a general statement. Either I was taught, or intuitively knew, how to manage it. For me, when I felt agitated (which is how I experience stress) I simply go for a walk or run, write in my journal, talk with friends/family, or it's a matter of seeking information to illuminate the fear around the worry. 

When I reflect on my life, I consider the things that have kept me up at night. They sit on two opposite spectrums:

(A) I have laid awake at night with worries about money. How to pay all the bills. How to save what was needed. How to do everything a person wants to do. How to get out of debt.

 (B) I have also laid awake at night overwhelmed by love, excitement, and uncertainty about what lies ahead.

In both cases, I had to recognize that there is only so much a human being can control. In the end, I suspect most of our stress in life lies around our inability to control circumstances in our lives. (Or....is a result of us making purchases around "what we think we deserve" versus what we've actually earned.) 

I apologize if this is a disconnected string of thoughts around stress. Recently a friend of mine shared with me this TedxUlaanbaatar talk about stress. It's presented by a young Mongolian man that traveled the world inquiring about stress--where it comes from and how we deal with it (or not)--from diverse countries and cultures. There are a couple of things he mentions that struck me. First, that countries that have a high amount of entertainment correlate directly to a high incidence of stress (Japan and USA being two of them). He also talks about drug/alcohol use/abuse as a way to deal with stress. 

The day after I watched this talk, I continued to think about stress. At this point in my life I experience a minimal amount of stress. I live with an overwhelming feeling of peace and serenity and my worries are minimal and short-lived. What exactly offers this situation? First, I have a loving, patient, and supportive spouse. I have a loving and caring family--both here in Mongolia and across the ocean. I have a purposeful job that provides a wage that allows me to pay my bills, have fun, and save for the future.  I have a warm and comfortable, though not extravagant, home. I have a network of friends that support me as well as participate in fun and celebrations with me. 

 

Yes, when I take a moment to look at Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, it becomes apparent that perhaps for the first time in my life, the bottom four layers are fully met. 

And beyond that, I am not weighed down by the hurry-up-and-achieve attitude that I feel permeates American culture. As soon as an individual gets a job or a degree, people begin to ask about the next step, the next degree or certification. As soon as you marry, then people ask about the house you will buy or the children you will have. If you run a 5K, then you will be asked about the 10K or marathon you will run next. There is this continual push to be climbing a mountain or a ladder. What is our aversion to simply being content? Being satisfied? Just Being? 

You see, this struck me clearly and directly one night this week. I came home from work on Tuesday and began to make dinner. In the U.S. I felt that making dinner was an act to be rushed or hurried through.....make the food, eat the food.....and get on to what's next on the list. The next scheduled task. That is not true of my life in Mongolia. I do have to get up and go to work five days a week, but outside of that I have very few obligations or schedules. Mongolians do not schedule more than a day or two out, generally speaking. They make their days up as they go, following their feelings, interest, and the opportunities that arise. 

As I peeled, sliced, and seasoned potatoes, I found incredible joy in the simple act of making food for myself and my loved one. Once the potatoes were in the oven, I cooked bacon and then the burgers. I flipped the potatoes. I put the bacon on, and melted cheese over it all. I listened to music and sipped a little wine. Zorig was busy in the living room on the computer, though we enjoyed bits of conversation here and there. When the meal was ready, we ate. 

This life is about satisfaction. About enjoying the simple acts of life and love. When was the last time you felt content? That you did not feel pushed to provide the NEXT something.....? 

 

Fall Break Travel

Picnic lunch on the Chuluut River

I work at an international school and with a host of international teachers; however, I am not an international teacher. Love and a new life brought me to Mongolia; I'm here with every intention of staying forever (this comment always seems to surprise my students and others I meet here in UB). International teachers teach around the world for the diverse experiences as well as earning the money and opportunities to travel to yet more places during their breaks and time off. Lunch time lounge chats often revolve around travel recently completed or where future breaks are bound to take people. For me, I'm focused on traveling here in Mongolia--to discover and learn more about this wild and free country where I make my home with Zorig and Enji. 

My school has a one week Fall Break in mid-October and Zorig fulfilled my wish for a countryside adventure. We traveled north and west to his camp on the Chuluut River, about 170 km south of Murun. This map is an estimate on locations. We left UB (red) and traveled west. Ulziit (yellow) was a way point, consider it like a rest stop. We ate soup there at 6 am on our journey back. And the camp was near Jargalant (green). We were an hour drive from Jargalant at Z's camp. We spent the first night and the last two nights there and two middle nights at a camp farther up into the mountains, via the Princess Road. Both camps had us sleeping in wooden cabins and we had stoves in which to burn firewood, keeping us warm and cozy. 

One thing about countryside travel in Mongolia--it requires A LOT of driving and a great portion of it is off-roading. Our trip included approximately 350 kilometers of paved road and then 200 of unpaved. The unpaved takes much more time, of course. And for my friend and I, it required active use of Dramamine to survive without losing our stomachs along the way. The views are stunning and I like being so close to the land. It was 12 hours driving time to get from UB to Z's camp. 

But that 12 hours got slightly extended by a few stops en route. We stopped for lunch, then to change a flat tire on our trusty Russian Van. 

A ways over the steppe, we stopped in a village to get the flat tire repaired (smart!), and then in the middle of the night, Zorig shot a wolf and we celebrated with the local nomads (who rode up on their motorbike) as they had been losing sheep from their herd in recent days. This celebration included vodka, of course. We finally arrived to sleep around 2 am. 

Awaking the next morning to the stunning view of blue skies, mountains, the river, and a picturesque camp (built by my husband!)....was breathtaking and worth every minute of the bouncing, bobbing, and banging-around ride in that Russian Van. 

Day 2 we traveled yet farther into the mountains by way of the Princess Road (it reminded me of old mining roads in the West, very narrow, rocks on all sides) to our second camp where we stayed for 2 nights. We arrived again after darkness, so a second morning began with a breathtaking view. We hiked and fished. We ate and drank. We made a huge bonfire, drank wine  and whiskey, and danced around the fire to music from the 60s and 70s (playlist included: Hotel California, Winds of Change, How Deep is your Love, Midnight Lady, and an ABBA song, as well as others) that blared from a CD playing inside the Russian van. 

Something fascinating about countryside travel in Mongolia is that you can feel FAR away from civilization and human beings. No cell service, no light or sound pollution. You are out in the middle of nowhere, it seems. However, you can't walk very far without running into a herd of some sort of livestock. K and I encountered cows and horses and watched a herd of yaks graze on the opposite bank of the river. We never saw the human herders that owned these animals, but I'm sure they were over just a ridge or two. The animals aren't at all bothered by humans--they are mildly curious at best. 

One of my favorite things about traveling into the countryside with Zorig is his knack for cocktail making. My dad and I experienced this for the first time last summer (2014) when we had "fruit cocktails" laced with fancy vodka. Our fall break trip included a mixing of some sort of fruit flavored cocktail mixer with cheap Mongolian beer. It was delicious! The food is often a mix of premade items (sausages, bread, salads in jars) as well as food made from local meat, veggies, and dairy products. We had horse meat soup with noodles and I made a beef soup with noodles one afternoon. We had rice and beef, and mutton ribs cooked by Zorig over charcoal (Yum!). 

Aaruul, about the size of a Silver Dollar

Countryside trips often include visiting with local nomads. We were invited into the homes of the families near the camps and enjoyed milk tea, yak butter (a bit like heavy whipped cream) over boortsog (sweet fried bread....similar to a beignet), aaruul, and other dried yogurt products. I am acquiring a taste for some of these items and each new home offers their own unique products. K and I tasted things and made recommendations on what was good, and what we didn't care for ("Oh...these are the good biscuits!" or "Oh yum, they have the yak butter!"). At this moment, I actually have store bought aaruul (traditional dried curdled milk) in my refrigerator. I like it a little soft and not dried out--but I LIKE IT. The first time I tasted it....I found it sour and distasteful. Not so anymore. It has both a sweet and savory taste--difficult to describe to someone that hasn't tried it. It has qualities of both cheese and yogurt. Hmmmm. 

Husband sharing Mongolian vodka

Also tried on this trip, for the first time, was traditional Mongolian vodka. I am NOT a fan of this and will forever remember K's whispered comment to me upon her first taste (sorry that's one of our many inside jokes and phrases from this week of adventure). It is vodka made from milk. It is clear like any other vodka, but has a sour milk taste to it. It's a weak vodka and probably only half the alcohol content of store-bought vodka. But when you drink as much as Mongolians can, it's easy to get drunk on the stuff as we observed. :)

In the middle of October we took a risk traveling. The weather can go any which way that time of year. But we were blessed with mostly sunny days with our highs in the 40s and it dipped into 20s and teens at night. We slept cozily in our sleeping bags in the cabins (with the stove going when we went to sleep, and firing it up again in the morning to take the chill off). 

View from the outhouse at Z's camp, Stunning!

For Westerners traveling in Mongolia, you quickly get used to the fact that there are no rest areas or public toilets. You carry TP with you (I always over pack!) and if you're lucky, you may have a wooden structure to surround you. Men have it easy, of course; for the ladies, you hunt for a berm or a bush or a big rock. Sooner or later the urge over takes any modesty you are trying to cling to. This is real life and our bodily functions are natural. You just get over it. 

All in all, the week of travel and adventure was every bit of fun and excitement I could ask for. It was lovely to have a girlfriend along to share in the fun and memories being made. Mongolians are fun people to travel and be with. They laugh easily and smile often. They are resourceful and hard-working. Nothing is a bother. Yes, traveling within this beautiful country is all that interests me at this time. My new life is filled with discovery at every turn--I love it, and the man that is sharing it all with me. 

The Hard Part

I've been IN COUNTRY now for 129 days, or 4 months and 6 days. That's one-third of a calendar year. I have yet to live through the frigid winter that is around the corner of the calendar. Zorig tells me repeatedly that life in Mongolia is about SURVIVAL. I'm yet learning this truth; I suspect it will be true for me, but that it will have different meaning. It will be more than learning to live in the cold and pollution. My surviving here will be different than the surviving he's been doing his whole life. 

In recent days and weeks it's occurred to me that THIS is the hard part. 

By THIS I mean: assimilating, adjusting, and integrating myself into this country, culture, and way of life. Overhauling my personal life, selling my home, car, and belongings, shipping what remained around the world, finding employment, and getting on a plane with five 50 lb suitcases--that was the EASY part. Now the real work has begun. Learning to live within this developing country with it's alternate way and view of life is the hard part. 

You see, I was "domesticated" in the United States of America. I was trained by my parents, by family and friends, by my schools and churches. I was raised and taught how to live and operate within the world by my American society. (For more info about this idea of domestication....please see The Four Agreements.) I see the world through a lens that is shaded and tinted by my American ideals, judgements, expectations, and social mores. This is neither good, nor bad, it just is. 

Now I live in Mongolia. People raised here have gone through an entirely different domestication process. What they expect (or not), value, think, feel, judge, and how they react is different. In recent weeks I have found myself being in conflict. Not because people are starting fights with me. It is internal conflict as I try to manage my assumptions and judgements about how Mongolians live their lives. That sounds bad, I know. But let me try to explain it with an anecdote.

My stepson recently had his Fall Break--a week off from school. Unfortunately his week did not coincide with my week off. So it goes. Anyway, Enji came to stay with us for a good part of his week off. Simultaneously, Zorig took off on a fishing reconnaissance trip to the north (before it gets really cold around here). I found myself feeling upset FOR Enji. He comes to stay with his father, and then his father takes off on a trip?!?! They spent no time together. When I asked Enji how he felt about this reality, he simply said, "It's normal." I was mystified. He wasn't angry, hurt, upset, or bothered, AT ALL. He stayed up late, played video games, watched movies, had a friend over to spend a night (and he and I hung out some too!). He did everything he would have done, even if his father had been here. 

BUT....I know how this situation would have gone over on an American kid. I told Enji about this. I said, "If I were you in America--if I went to spend the week with my dad and then he left on a trip--I would be hurt or angry and upset." Enji listened and I know he understood me, but it was obvious that he saw no reason to have any of those types of emotions. He loves his father, he knows his father loves him. They FEEL one another. 

So my question is.....do we, as Americans, create the neuroses and drama that we are always fighting our way through? Do our kids act hurt and angry and upset because we have taught them they should feel that way?

I wanted what these men had....smiles, laughter, ease of being

I am coming to believe that Americans live with far too many SHOULDs. Mongolians, on the flip side, live with next to none. Here you do what you want, when you want, and you don't feel guilty or bad about it. Why? Because it is your life to live; and you are free to do what you desire, what you want. Simply put--Be yourself. (And NOT what you assume, think, or believe others think you should be.)

I noticed this quality of Mongolian life in that first trip with Dad in 2014. The week we spent fly fishing on the Onon River included three Mongolian men--Zorig, Hongoroo (driver), and Amgaa (local fishing guide). I was fascinated by their ease of being with one another, laughing, talking, and being quiet at times. They were not more than acquaintances at the start of the trip, but there was never awkwardness or tension--even when we got stuck in the middle of the river!! 

While I could have NEVER predicted the events that would follow that trip, I can tell you that I was drawn to the laughter and voices of those three men. I wanted something which they had. An ease of existence, a feeling of freedom in self expression, and so much laughter and smiling. Yes, I wanted that in my life. You see.....Life just IS here in Mongolia. I don't know how to explain it any simpler than that. 

I AM excited about learning to live my life this way. Love should be freeing and not controlling. A person's life journey should be a joy and discovery and NOT bogged down with outside judgements or expectations. An individual should feel free to express themselves and not be fearful of what others think. We should be honest with ourselves and with others. We should not feel as though we have to apologize or make excuses. We are each of us human, after all.

But do you see.....I can't escape the need to use "shoulds"......

I am yet a work-in-progress. Thanks, Mongolia, for this immersion course in living life freely, openly, honestly.

Making good on Declarations

One of our first pics together, my hair was SUCH a mess!!

In the wee hours of August 6, 2014, Zorig said to me, while walking me home from River Sounds to Dad and I's hotel, "if I have any chance to have your hand, I'm going to take it." At the time, I thought the man was crazy. We were acquainted just six days, had different native languages and cultures, and we lived continents apart. What could he really think was possible? I left that day thinking I would never see him or Mongolia again. 

But throughout the late summer and fall, he pursued me relentlessly. As I made the long overdue changes to my personal life, I began to consider seeing him again if/when he came to the U.S. for work. Time marched on and we chatted twice daily learning all we could about one another. From simple information--what we like to eat and what we don't, to deeper, more philosophical things. No topic was off limits and we had nothing but time and opportunity to learn all we could in this unexpected virtual courting period. We never skyped--all of our communication was through email, facebook messenger, or international SMS texting. Who knew you could build such a solid foundation on words. And yet, it makes sense....we couldn't be distracted by the physical with all those miles between us. And so we got to know one another.

On December 22, Zorig came to the U.S. in pursuit of me, in pursuit of the love that had developed between us. There were no guarantees, no insurance that we would have the magic. But we had to find out. Had to know for sure. I will never forget that epic gesture--investing the time and money to travel 6K miles to come and see me. To meet my family and my friends. To see me in my world. Seven weeks together--though the future course was determined within those first hours and days. I would move to UB come summer. I knew in my gut that this was THE right choice, the right option, for us. For Zorig. For Enji. For me. During those weeks together, Zorig proposed marriage to me and I said "yes." While I knew I was hopeful to find work in UB at one of the International schools, I wanted to have a spousal visa so that living in Mongolia would be long term and not directly connected to my employment. 

Marriage kiss

Speeding ahead, I arrived to UB on July 2nd. I enjoyed summer fun with Zorig and my father, then with Zorig, Enji, and my dad. Dad left and I began to learn my new home and city. At the end of August, my work began at ASU. 

In September, Zorig and I began to chip away at the necessary paperwork to apply to marry. This is a tedious and time consuming endeavor, as laid out by the U.S. Embassy. While I went along to get documents notarized, Zorig did most of the running around. At the end of September he submitted our completed application and the necessary supporting documentation. The woman at the Office of Civil Registration told him it would be a month. So we went about our lives, not thinking much about it. When she called to request a meeting a week later, we thought perhaps something was missing or that we needed to be interviewed to push the paperwork onward. I took the day off from work so that we could attend a 10 am meeting on Friday, October 2nd. 

Unexpectedly, we were told that we were being married and then entered into the official archive of Mongolian records. Zorig had to run down the street to the bank to make a deposit of 2,800 MNT (about $1.40) to the Office of Civil Registration. I had that in cash, but they needed it to be a bank transfer. After he returned, we stood up and the female official wished us happiness and health in our future life together (I assume reading the words that are written in traditional Mongolian script/calligraphy on our Marriage Certificate). We kissed and giggled and smiled and kissed some more. The woman kindly snapped some pictures of us--kissing and with our certificate of marriage. While this is not at all what we expected for the day--there was a simple beauty in just going with it all. Nothing about our relationship, our love story, has been traditional or expected.....so why should our marriage be so? 

It was a lovely day and weekend. After getting married, we caught a taxi and headed to Sunshiroh, Z's father's warehouse/business. En route, Zorig called his mother to share the good news, and I informed my fellow American wives and my best friend back in the states. The taxi ride was filled with smiles and laughs and more kissing. One really never knows what a day of life in Mongolia can hold in store for you.....and while this is sometimes hard for me to roll with (being trained by Americans to plan and schedule).....as the days and weeks move on, I see the beauty and feel the joy of living in the present moment. In going with my gut, my heart, and feeling free to express myself and be seen without masks and constructs to box me in. 

Zorig and Majig

After visiting Sunshiroh, we went to the in-laws apartment, where we presented our Marriage Certificate to Majig and to Enji. We ate and talked and drank 12 yo Glenlivet in celebration of our marriage. While I can't yet communicate directly with Majig, I feel her. She has the most beautiful and warm smile I've ever seen and her joy at our marriage was complete and obvious. Zorig gets his smile and big cheeks from her, as well as his pure heart and generous nature. We spent three lovely hours visiting and celebrating. 

In the evening, we met up with some of my fellow American wives and other mixed-nationality-couples for a bon voyage party (for a Canadian man, his Mongolian wife and two boys--who were moving to Canada the following day).  We enjoyed good food and the company of fellow mixed culture/race couples at Namaste, an Indian restaurant. 

It was a day filled with surprises and joy. We did not need a formal ceremony or to perform in front of others (though we yet intend to have a party to celebrate with extended family and friends). We did not need to say vows or make promises. We do that each and every day in our life and love together. We live love. 

Zorig made good on the declaration he made last August. He reached out and overcame me. Taught me to open up and expand. Taught me to believe in something I'd never known or imagined.  And my heart is yet moved by how he pursued me, how he was and is a man of his word, while simultaneously being a man of action, and most of all by how he loves and cares for me. This is the love of movies and novels. Of legends. And it's real. If you are waiting or looking for love, I entreat you to hold out for the BIG love. If you don't know what it means to feel and say, "I love you too much," then hold out.....there is something bigger, something greater, than you can imagine......until it happens. It can be a reality. 

It is not easy. It is not simple. It will require raw vulnerability, complete honesty, the baring of everything you know and hope and believe. You must have complete faith and trust--in being yourself, and in loving and accepting the other. Everything you are and want has to be exposed. There are no guarantees, no surety. It is scary and consuming and it will change you forever. And it can be the greatest journey of your life. 

Killing the Fatted Calf

Our winter meat selected and roped (in the first throw!)

This past week was fall break--a much needed one-week off from work. Zorig coordinated a trip to the countryside, to the north, where he has a camp on the Chuluut River. 

As always, a trip to the countryside is thick with adventure and deep in opportunities to connect with nature, with the earth, and to feel a part of the cycle of life. Our trip included the selection of the three year old cow that is to be our meat for the cold winter months ahead. While Zorig had mentioned that we'd be bringing back our winter meat, I did not understand that I'd be witness to the entire process--from selection all the way to eating that first steak last night in our home. 

A little help from our steel steed

Again--Mongolia is filled with surprises, at least for us foreigners that is. While this sometimes hits me sideways initially, it offers new and alternate perspectives on life. In the U.S. most people get their food from the store. While more are beginning to think about where meat comes from and how it was raised, very few are yet involved with or witness to the process of selecting and acquiring their food. While I continue to lead a life filled with moments of surreality, it is not false, fake, or removed from reality. If anything, I am becoming more rooted and grounded in the basic elements of life. Though I went Paleo a couple years back (and am not exactly maintaining it fully here--remember that meat and dairy are the primary food groups here), life in Mongolia includes connecting with components of our caveman ancestry in an authentic way. 

I was witness to it all. Once our ox/cow was selected, then it took the assistance

of our Russian van to get her up from the river bank and to our camp. There she waited, tied to the bathhouse, for the proper tools to arrive (by horseback). Our cow was killed with a swift blow to the head, using the blunt side of an axe, directly on the flat space between the eyes. She went down immediately. A second blow was delivered, her spine was severed behind her head, then a cut was made directly to the heart and she was bled out as much as possible into a large metal tub. I assume this was to make the skinning and quartering process less messy. 

Zorig and Enkhi--the herder who sold us our cow

In the course of a couple of hours our cow was skinned, gutted, quartered, and cut up into manageable pieces. Mongolian women arrived to process the innards which includes emptying the intestines, cleaning them, and then stuffing them with tenderloin--the GOOD meat. I had NO IDEA this is what happened. I feel foolish for not trying the intestinal shaped pieces from my Khorkhog experience back in July. Granted, I opt to not eat the intestinal lining itself, but the meat inside is delicious and tender. Now I know. 

That evening we hosted a small celebration and invited the local nomads, many of whom Zorig has known for the years he's been taking clients to camp and fish the Chuluut, to have a taste of meat and to toast good life and happiness. This soiree included over 20 people, from young child to elderly, and went on for a couple of hours. My girlfriend and I, as the only two Americans, were certainly out of place, but we enjoyed all the smiles and warm feelings expressed to us. We both had moments of sensory and input overload--funny, considering we were in our fifth day of being unplugged from the rest of the world. I guess when you experience something so foreign from all you've known your whole life, it takes some time to feel it, to process it, and to understand it and where you belong in the middle of it. 

This is about half of it....

On Friday we loaded up the meat and it rode behind us, in the back of the Russian van, all the kilometers and hours back to UB. Now it's been butchered into manageable cuts and is in our newly delivered chest freezer. It's ready and waiting to be consumed throughout the long nights of the frigid winter that lies ahead. I love that Zorig thought ahead to do this for our family. Now I hope he can teach me how to cook it. This man knows meat far better than I. Another thing to add to the long list of things he teaches me or opens me up to experiencing. I continue to expand and discover and learn--about this man, this land, these people, and more importantly (and sometimes painfully) about myself. 

Cold & Pollution

Public bus ride home after an after-school v-ball game 

Most everyone knows that I moved to the coldest capital in the world. Many of you have asked if it's getting cold yet.  I've mentioned in recent Facebook posts that we've already had a couple days with snow flurries (though no accumulation of any kind). Thus far, September and October have been most comfortable with many days in the 50s or 60s, while dropping to freezing or below every night. Similar to Colorado weather, when that sun goes down, the land cools of significantly. We enjoy sunshine most every day and very less days with continuous cloud cover. You can see the current 10-day forecast looks most comfortable. While some of my friends and family may fear I'm spending one-half to three-quarters of a year in freezing weather, you are incorrect (Thank Goodness!). From what I can tell, the weather WILL begin to dip much colder come next month. Then December, January, and February are brutal--temperature wise. In March, we begin to climb our way out of the frigidity. November and March are the steep descent/ascent months of the year.

High fashion (left) meets Traditional attire

I have more coats than I think I'll need; and Zorig keeps having me try on others of his that he doesn't use, and saying they are now mine. From what I've learned, it's all about the temperature here, and not much about any significant accumulation of snow. Though I do hear that ice forms easily on the marble sidewalks that seem to be crouched all around the city. Definitely need to keep an eye on my footholds and steps once ice appears. The women here LOVE their heels; while I'm more of a practical gal in that department. Just last week I had a second grader ask me if I was wearing "boy shoes." Gotta love them for their lack of filters. 

From bus, see the power plant expelling smoke in the distance?

More than the cold, my worst fear of making a new life here in UB is in regards to the impact of pollution. Air pollution, specifically. It is ranked as one of the most polluted cities in the world, despite it's population being just around 1.5M in UB, and 3M country-wide. Since I arrived in July, it hasn't been all that bad; news articles from the past indicate that winter is the worst time for air pollution with the increased burning of coal. You can keep an eye on the AQI (Air Quality Index) in Ulaanbaatar through this handy website. (If you zoom in on the map, I am a few blocks west of the Chinggis Khaan Square near the Baruun 4 Zam station.) I'm still learning what all the various numbers mean, but use this site to monitor overall air quality, as well as an app on my phone called Global Air Quality. One of my friends recently gifted me a disposable face mask which I'll carry for use on days when it gets bad. That would need to be changed once a month (I'm adding it to my list of what to get from Amazon before my next shipment from the U.S.). Some of the teachers I work with are coming from locations in China; living with air pollution is something they've been doing for a while and I'm glad to have them share their experiences/knowledge with me. 

I confess the mask feels strange on my face. I have yet to wear it, but I do see people every day wearing masks. Some may be wearing one to avoid spread of illness, others to filter out pollution. I suspect I'll get over my feelings of self-consciousness when the time comes, just as I did about going running and doing exercises on the street. At some point you do what you must and let go of what others may think of you. 

Today it will be 64 degrees and sunny! I have just today and tomorrow to work, then I can enjoy a week off for my Fall Break. Zorig and I are planning to head out of UB and into the countryside for some adventures. 

Language & Love

I know many of you are wondering how it's going......learning the language. I am confident that I couldn't imagine a better man in the entire world......AND I couldn't have fallen for a man with a MORE difficult language. Whew. It's tough! I only hear a few words here and there that I understand. It is difficult for me to discern where one word ends and the next word begins. I feel a lot like Charlie Brown, to be honest. :(

Last week I finished my first round of Mongolian lessons. A teacher at ASU (who is obviously talented in languages...being just 24 yo and speaking 4+ of them!) offered four weeks (3 hours each week) of "Survival Mongolian" lessons. While I am by no means speaking in Mongolian, I AM able to read signs and can pronounce *most* of the 36 characters in the Mongolian cyrillic alphabet. This pictures shows the characters. To listen to the sounds that accompany the letters, click here. The Es, Os, and Ys are by far the most difficult; and the L and R are a close second. The R rolls a bit like Rs in Spanish. This language requires a great emphasis on using the back of your tongue and the throat. It's different from English, no doubt. 

I've finished my first phase and intend to invest in a Mongolian tutor after our fall break has gone. It will take me some time to learn this language and I confess that it intimidates me. It's easy to stay inside the English-speaking bubble. I will need to force myself to step outside of it. Soon. In the meantime, I am always interpreting signs and practicing my pronunciations with Zorig. 

This man lets me be me--and that is beautiful!

On to other thoughts..... Remember the movie Jerry Maguire and the infamous line, "you complete me?" Some people took hold of that idea--were moved by it, while others rebelled. I've been musing about the premise in recent days and have my humble thoughts to offer up. 

I do believe we are fully formed individuals, though always evolving and growing, working to discern and determine who we want to become, what we believe, where we want to be, when to pursue life and when to ride the tide, and why we are here. 

I do not believe we need another person to complete us or make us whole. We are complete and whole as individuals (though many are working on this piece). However, I have come to believe and know that there is an extraordinary grace and beauty and wholeness that comes from LOVE WITH/FROM ANOTHER that ALLOWS you to be completely yourself. To be so free in one's skin and self-being, this indeed is a beautiful and supernatural experience. I bask in this kind of love daily. From morning until I rest my head to sleep at night, I am free. I am seen AS I AM and loved and adored for nothing other. I can strangely relate to Maria Von Trapp from the Sound of Music, thinking....I must have done something good to deserve this. Granted, my childhood was idyllic in many ways. I have no dark and twisted past from which I'm trying to recover. My parents loved me and raised me to pursue my dreams. Though I'm sure they had no idea that would include moving to Mongolia for Love! 

Some days I can't help but feel as though I have too much good in my life.  It is a certain slice of dream-like reality. How did I get so fortunate to meet this man? In a world of 7 Billion, what caused our paths to cross? And what gave each of us, individually, the where-with-all to pursue this life together? And then caused us to follow-through? Really.....the pieces of this puzzle are mind-boggling. It's a mystery. And therein lies the beauty of it. I do not want to know why.....don't explain it to me. The mystery is what lends it beauty and magnificence. 

All I know is that I know love in a new and ever-expanding way and it has colored my life in entirely new ways. I will never see or feel the same way again. The past is but a memory.....all we have is NOW.

Well, it happened to me...

Sukhbaatar Statue

The warnings to beware of pickpockets are everywhere. From the U.S. Embassy page to most every guidebook you can find for Mongolia. When I met with the health department in Colorado Springs to get my vaccinations, they provided me with a Country Profile that also warned me about the high incidence of theft--going so far as to declare that public transportation should be avoided (which is not at all practical). 

Back in July, when I ventured out for the first time alone onto the sidewalks of UB, Enji messaged me with, "WATCH OUT FOR ROBBERS!" I can't say that did much to bolster my confidence being in my new home city, but it was advice well-meant and based in reality. Zorig repeatedly warns me to be careful of both thieves and machines (aka cars) every time I venture outside. 

Well, it happened to me this past week. I was pick-pocketed. Now, before you get worried--they got NOTHING of material value. I didn't feel it happen and was never scared or fearful. Quite frankly, it's a mystery as to when and how they did it.

I had stayed on in Zaisan (neighborhood where ASU is located and most of my co-workers live) to have some wine and food with my friend (pictured here). I caught a bus around 7:30 pm which is after dark now. I know that it DID NOT happen on the bus, as I had a seat to myself and my backpack was on my lap the entire time with my hands resting on it. I have yet to feel exposed on the buses here, but perhaps in wintertime they get busy and more packed. We'll see. 

Anyway, when I got off the bus, I could see the Square all lit up ahead. It looked beautiful and I knew Z wasn't coming home from the worksite....so I decided I'd walk over and enjoy the Square a little before walking home. There weren't many people out. I was wearing my headphones and listening to my iPod, as I often do. I crossed the necessary crosswalks, took pictures, and wandered around some. Upon heading home, I noticed the Central Post Office was yet open. I popped inside to mail a letter I had in my purse (which was buried in the main pocket of my backpack under a loaf of bread). 

When I took my backpack off, I could see that the smaller, most front pocket was wide open. My pen and pencil case was yet inside, but the small bag that I used to house my iPod and headphones (when not in use) was gone. This was a gift Zorig gave me when he first arrived to the U.S. back in December. It was a lovely little bag and I'm sad that it's gone, but more importantly, I'm glad that my money or Alien ID Card wasn't stolen. My safe-feeling-bubble has officially been burst. I will be more careful moving forward. Time to stop with the headphones and I look over my shoulder way more often. I didn't feel a thing--they were like sprites unzipping the pack and lifting what they probably thought was a wallet. However, the bag was empty and I was a most unsuccessful mark. Pickpocketing is not a violent crime and for that I am relieved. 

Lesson learned.