The Impact of Darkness

Working towards a full moon...

I'm feeling philosophical and reflective this evening. It's Friday and tonight we turn our clocks back an hour at midnight to end Daylight Savings in Mongolia. 

After a successful "Sports Day" at my Elementary School this afternoon, I attended a happy hour event with co-workers and then rode the bus home for the first time AFTER dark. I've been afraid to do this.....though I'm not sure why. What is it about Darkness that makes us fearful? Some have their musings on the topic and I can't disagree. I ride the same bus as in daylight and travel the same route. The bus is fully lit, as I learned tonight. It was, as normal, populated with single men and women, couples (young and old), and people with children. At 8 PM it was actually fairly empty (ie NOT standing room only). I listened to my iPod on the ride home (LOVE Rob Thomas' new album and specifically, The Great Unknown and Paper Dolls), as I often do, and watched the people and traffic. 

View from my Library. Notice both gers and high rises!

I AM alone here in this foreign land. That is not lost on me in some moments. And I don't mean ALONE as in "without anyone." I have a man that loves and cares for me. I have a (step)son that has allowed me to become his family. And a family of in-laws that has welcomed me fully and completely. I also have a professional community populated with Americans and Canadians, among others. And a select and small group of us "American wives" of Mongol men (update: our marriage application was officially submitted this week to the Office of Civil Registration and is in progress). BUT....I am alone in Asia with no one from my past. No one that knew me when. That knows the distance I've traveled, emotionally, to be here. That knows my childhood stories, my family history. It feels a bit like a re-booted life......

There is a freedom that comes with leaving all of one's history in a place far away. I could and can be whomever I want. Reinvent, recreate, reimagine myself. 

Ah....but, I like who I am and the road I've traveled holds nothing but memories and people that made me who I am. I wouldn't abandon or disown those treads. While I may have chosen paths that dead-ended, they were my paths to walk and my paths to back-track out of. I make no apologies for my choices. I have never harmed anyone intentionally and have acted in good faith. Free will is a beautiful and weighty thing; it requires respect and responsibility. And we do ourselves a great disservice when we forget that we have it. This last year has taught me how to answer the question: "If today is my last day on Earth, did I spend it well?" 

My new addiction!

On that bus ride tonight I thought of all the people that have warned me to "be careful" or to "watch out for thieves." I don't mean to disregard the warnings....they are grounded in fact and reality. However, I have only experienced kindness. A Mongolian woman tapped me on the shoulder a couple weeks back as I walked home from the post office. She pointed to my open backpack (I had put a card in and forgotten to zip it up). She didn't speak English, but she was trying to protect me--a foreigner. She didn't have to do that. And yet, she did. And while it's true that plenty of people on the bus look and stare at me, none of them have felt menacing or frightful in anyway. Only curious. Oh....I will keep my wits about me, my situational awareness is strong, and I am careful to never drink too much when I am using public transportation. 

But this culture is no scarier than my home one. We are all just people....trying to make a connection....trying to feel at home, no matter where we are in the world. 

So I begin to push beyond my comfort boundaries and into the darkness, doing my best to shed light on the shadows. 

Food and our Utensils

Monday's appetizer.....fingers were the utensil.

Recently, Zorig asked me why I used a fork as my primary eating utensil. He followed this question with a comment that a spoon is more useful--easier to get more food onto it and into your mouth. The initial question caused me to stop and ponder. Why do I prefer a fork? Other than soup which requires a spoon, my go-to utensil IS a fork. This led to some random observations and/or connections. 

Zorig comments on my long nose and it's angles. A fork is long and pointy. I am attracted to Zorig's big cheeks. They are big and round. Like a spoon. So much lovely surface to kiss! :) I don't have a definitive answer other than that in Asia soup is a staple and therefore a spoon is a necessity. Also, meals here are often preceded by both a salad AND a soup. In the U.S., soup is a winter-time thing and meals are preceded more often by salad than soup.  Salad requires a fork. (Interesting to note that we've shortened the eating cycle by doing soup OR salad in the U.S.)

I hope to not wear out this topic of food; however, it is the largest difference in my day to day life. It's LOVELY to be in a relationship where both partners cook for and care for the other. Two nights a week I take Mongolian language lessons for an hour and a half (a future blog post on this topic--I promise). This means I don't get home until after 7 PM. Zorig takes note of this late arrival and has prepared meals for me, two of which I've shared with you here. The first is of braised pork ribs over sautéed cabbage, carrots, and potatoes. The other is oven baked chicken...with a crisp skin and tender, juicy meat inside. He is far too humble and thinks nothing of his cooking and grilling skills. I think he is a master chef and feel so fortunate to have a partner that is mindful of what I like (meat and veggies) and of my schedule and hours. Of course, this makes me want to reciprocate. I too cook, but my food never looks as beautiful as his! Not picture worthy. All in all, the best thing is sharing a home and kitchen with a true partner. We both cook. We both clean. We delight in sharing the work--which makes it no work at all in the end. This is how we care for one another. One way in which we love.....

Cafeteria and three sample meals.

When I was in the U.S., I either packed my lunch (while in public school) or enjoyed the dining hall offerings (while at FVS). Since I have a public transit commute, I don't want to mess with the carting of food to and from work. I have opted to eat lunch in our cafeteria four days a week; and on Friday's we order out from a local deli. This is a new tradition and it encourages the teachers to have lunch together in our lounge. The cafeteria food is pretty good and costs me just $2.25/day. It's a mix of Mongolian style food (bottom left hand picture is buuz, steamed meat dumplings and traditional soup and slaw style salad) and western type foods (top right hand picture's spaghetti). Most meals include a soup or porridge (bottom right hand picture has a grits like cereal that was YUMMY!), a veggie (yes, seaweed paper counts as a veggie), and then a starch and some meat. Often some sort of bread and a juice, milk, or tea. 

I miss ROMAINE lettuce! I haven't seen it since I arrived in early July. And my attempts at home to make salads have been not so effective. SO...on Friday's I opt for the large salad with egg and a grilled chicken breast. This costs me $5.02. This means my lunches cost me less than $15/week AND I don't have to prep or clean up. All in all, it seems like the smart way to go. 

Lastly, a word on bacon. I MISS crispy, thick-cut bacon. Diner bacon. But with the recent arrival of my cooling racks (thanks to my cousin for shipping my first box of "I-can't-find-it-here" stuff)--I can now bake bacon how I was used to doing it in the U.S. 

The bacon I purchase is smoked Hungarian bacon and each package is about $2-3. Quite tasty, though a little on the thin size (upside--requires less cooking time). But I'll take what I can get!!! Bacon is bacon after all....and not much beats that salty, savory flavor. I try to always have a package in the fridge along with a 10-pack of eggs. Those foods are easily whipped into a meal of some sort with the veggies on hand--omelet, soup, or even a crustless frittata. 

p.s. To those friends that commented that I'd miss Mexican food the most: perhaps not the most missed thing, but YES, I miss spicy and flavorful food. I miss jalapeños and pinto beans....and burritos that beg for sour cream. When I come home for Christmas in 2016 you can bet that MEXICAN will be on the to-do list. More than once. 

The Mongolian Dozen

Mongol Eggs

I've completed my first week of "Survival Mongolian" language lessons (offered by a fellow teacher who has lived here three years and is fluent--he teaches the entire class IN Mongolian! OMG). We began with the Cyrillic alphabet on Monday, and I'm happy to report that I'm already able to read more signs as I walk and ride around UB. I'm accumulating "gold stars" left and right as I decipher words and phrases. And, it's winning me points with the Mongolian kids in my classes; as they work to learn English, they can giggle at my pronunciations and help me learn Mongolian. 

Toilet paper

I've noticed that items that often came in dozens in the U.S. seem to come in packages of 10 in Mongolia. One can buy six eggs, or a plastic container of 10 (shown here), or larger flats. Additionally, the large pack of TP which I purchased today also came in a package of ten. Interestingly, this larger purchase did not save me money, as it would in the U.S. The price is the same per roll, whether I buy one or ten. I have been contemplating WHY a "dozen" isn't a count of 12. Perhaps there is some specific or obvious reason of which I am unaware. Today as I walked back to our apartment with my bulk purchase of TP, I came up with an historic reason for the count of 10 in what I'm calling the "Mongolian dozen"--Genghis Khan (or rather, Chinggis Khan as he is known here). 

Chinggis Khan was who initially developed a military built upon the decimal system--counts of 10. Small groups of ten soldiers (arban), created groups of 100 (zuun), which built groups of 1K (mingghan), and then on up from there. My experience in Basic Training wasn't exactly in counts of ten; however I was in a squad that was part of a platoon. We had three platoons in our Company. Yes, I think that Mongols use the 10s because it's what they've been doing since Chinggis Khan united the nomadic clans to create the great Mongol Empire. If, per chance, you know otherwise--please do tell. Otherwise, I think this is a brilliant explanation. :)

Other random observances to share today: 

• Mongolians USE their parks. Today I sat in a small park near the Russian school that Zorig attended as a child. Every bench had a person on it. Young. Single. Couples. Elderly. Couples with a baby. Teenagers. And everyone there to enjoy the sunshine, the greenery, and relaxation. It was lovely. 
• Females--from the very young to the elderly--walk holding hands or with their arms looped through one another's arms. I find it endearing and sweet.
• Males--this is a country that exhibits true "brotherly love." These men easily show their love and affection (and good natured joking) towards one another in a physical way. 
• Females--often carry plastic bags like this--one handle for each woman. These bags (plastic bags here are SERIOUS business and can hold a LOT of weight without breaking!) can be filled with anything--shoes, groceries, or in this case, meat. :)

Inside the Mongolian Mind

Statues in a park just off of Chinggis Square

Does planning for a worst-case-scenario invite said scenario into your life? Or does being prepared for it make it easier if/when it happens? This is a bit like our chicken or the egg conundrum, if you ask me. 

Zorig and I recently had a detailed discussion about this topic. I did my best to explain the American viewpoint, and he did his best to help me understand the Mongolian perspective. I'll attempt to share our differing lenses with you now. 

On occasion, Zorig will leave the city and travel to the countryside on trips with fisherman or to do reconnaissance for future trips. While I would love to accompany him, my job is a Western job and requires me to work M-F, with the exception of our holiday breaks. So, on occasion he may be gone for one or two weeks while I remain at home and continue my work. While I do feel at home in our apartment, in the city, and in getting to and back from Zaisan (where work is), soon the weather will change, it will be getting dark earlier, and there may be a situation where I need help or assistance. That is one thing that prompted me to ask the "worst-case-scenario" question. Additionally, I wanted to know--"if you get injured, or worse, while on one of your trips, what will I, or do you, expect of me?" 

Zorig evaded my question at first. In a way, he kind of pooh-poohed me. Upon pushing for a response, he asked me, "why do you think about such bad things? Why exactly do Americans want to talk about these things? Mongolians-we never speak of them." The discussion moved on and here is what I gleaned from his sharing. Mongolians feel that planning for bad things, making preparations, calls those very things to you. I can understand this perspective, this way of thinking. It's a bit like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Norman Vincent Peale began talking about this decades ago with his Power of Positive Thinking; and it was reiterated in recent years via The Secret. 

I also, however, understand the flip-side. Americans, in general (and perhaps this applies to all Westerners...I'm not sure), are encouraged to and like to have a plan for what a family member's wishes/wants are, IN CASE something bad does happen. We encourage people to have Wills, and Living Wills, and DNR instructions. We fill out forms designating our beneficiaries for our retirement funds and life insurance policies. We are encouraged to talk with our parents about their wishes about funerals/memorials/and what becomes of their belongings when they pass. When we go on vacation, we leave itineraries and contact information with those behind. This seems reasonable to me and it is, of course, what I was raised to believe and do.

All that shared, we arrived at an impasse. My way of thinking is perceived as asking for bad fortune to occur. His way of thinking causes me to feel uninformed or unprepared. Obviously, the longer I am here, the less I will need to know what he wishes in the event of catastrophe--I will be more at home and more rooted here as time passes (with the language, with my family, etc), and I will know him better as well. He has provided small guidance on whom I am to contact if/when I can't reach him in an emergency, but I also know that I will be relying on my American Wives and perhaps a person or two from ASU. But really, I can't make him concede and answer all my worries or questions. On this point, to keep our good fortune and positive outlook, I simply have to step forward into the unknown. 

To my Mongolian readers--if any of this feels not quite correct, feel free to comment and share your thoughts/opinions. To my Western readers--of course your thoughts are always invited as well. 

Commuting in the Big City

View from my bus ride tonight, on the Peace Bridge

Life in a big city is something I always wanted to experience. And while Zorig tells me that UB is small, it's by far the largest city I've ever lived in and is three times the size of Colorado Springs--my last home. There are approximately 1.5M people calling Ulaanbaatar home and that's half of the entire population of Mongolia. As I prepared to depart the U.S., I thought a lot about what I would miss the most. My personal prediction was: the freedom that came with owning a car and being able to go anywhere I wanted, when I wanted. This has not proved to be true. I don't miss owning a car, paying for it, or the insurance and gas, nor do I miss the stress that accompanied driving (though I was far from a road-rager). There is something blissful in turning over the driving tasks to someone else--whether it be a bus driver or a taxi driver. (Plus--I can walk to nearly everything, if necessary.)

As you all know, UB suffers from fairly bad air quality. It's not too bad this time of year; winter is the worst. But traffic congestion is an equally troubling challenge in a city built for perhaps 500,000. To try and address the congestion, the city has gotten fairly creative. From what I understand (feel free to correct me if I have any of this incorrect), anyone that owns a car has a couple of restrictions to adhere to: (1) some part of their license plate indicates one day of the week they are NOT allowed to drive, and (2) there is an odd/even number designation for weekends--odd numbers can drive either Saturday or Sunday and even numbers the other day. Police stand on the streets and "pull people over" (how they do this without cars or motorcycles is impressive--people simply comply). I've observed it in action on the mornings when I run. I heard from a friend today that if you are caught driving on a day you aren't allowed to, the fine is $400 (or about 796,000 tugrik, MNT). That's a stiff penalty.

Some of you have asked about my commute to and from work. Our apartment is about four miles from my school. Getting TO work I share in a "taxi"....but it's more like UBER, but without the app and online account and formalities. Anyone who drives here can be a taxi driver. You simply drive around and look for someone with their hand out. You are charged for the distance, no matter the time it takes to get there. Most rides around town cost between $1-5. 

But back to my "to work" plan. A fellow teacher and I pay a woman to drive us four days a week (Thursday is her NO DRIVE day) for $7/each (or just $1.75/day). When she drives, we get to school in about 10 minutes. On Thursday, I ride one of our school buses along with the ASU students. It picks up right around the corner from the apartment. Today was my first time to do this. I got on the bus at 7:35 am and we arrived to school at 8:20 am. Yup......a 45 minute ride! I expect that will be a bit shorter next time. The school year has just begun here for the Mongolian and Russian schools (Sept 1), so everyone is adjusting. But the ride is free and again, I am not thinking about the driving or the time. It's morning, the kids are yet sleepy. After we say hello.....I sip my coffee and listen to my iPod. 

Getting home in the afternoon I most often opt to pick up the public bus (though an alternate option is to ride a school bus home--haven't tried this yet, as they just started running on Tuesday and I am staying later). As I've mentioned, the public bus costs $0.25/ride and picks up just down the street from school. Again, we are just traveling those same four miles, but it always takes at least 25 minutes, but often 30 or a bit more. But again, I'm not driving, I kick back with my own thoughts or my music. While the bus is fairly empty where I get on, it packs in pretty quickly and there is not room to read or do any work. So I watch the people getting on and off, or the people in the next bus, or people on the street. I'm still taking it all in--this new world of mine. 

I'll leave you with this picture from inside the State Department Store (across the street from our apartment). The second floor has this open space that is used for seasonal or promotional events. As you can see here, Back to School is the same no matter where you are in the world! The city is filled with shops like this selling backpacks, notebooks, pens, crayons, and all that other fun start-of-the-school-year stuff. One of the reasons I LOVE being an educator (besides an obsession with learning!) is all the cool office product stuff I get to use and be near. Nothing much beats the feel of an empty notebook waiting for my words and the colored pen that will deliver them. :)