Standing out in a Crowd

Early in this blog journey I wrote about how my features are different and said, "I can't imagine what it will be like to be a Westerner in UB, in Mongolia...." A few things happened this week that made me remember this initial question of mine and I feel somewhat informed to answer it now. 

First, I rode the public bus home three evenings this week and each time I was the only "whitey" on the bus. Once it was standing room only, the other two times I secured a seat for the ride. Most bus riders scan the crowd as they find a seat or hook their hand through a grip when it's standing room only. They either pause when seeing me, or return to me after scanning the crowd. Some choose to watch me for quite a good bit of time. If I'm wearing my face mask for the pollution--the stare factor usually increases.  I wonder what they are thinking or wondering about me. Their looks don't make me at all uncomfortable, just curious--as I suppose they are about me.  

Last night I went out with coworkers after work for food and drink. We were a table of Americans--five females, one male. Most other patrons in the establishment were Mongolian, though there were a few other Westerners present. Mongolian children seem most fascinated by us--either our looks or perhaps listening to us speak in English. At the next table there were two children--one was approximately nine years old, the other a toddler. Both watched our group--the toddler often standing and staring. Children lack the filter to think or believe that staring is not nice. We smile and say hello. The children here are so cute!

View from my library on a clear day, compare to last post

As these instances came and went, I reflected on what it's like to live in a place where I stand out because of my physical looks. In the U.S. I am about as average or ordinary looking as one can get--brown hair, brown eyes, an inch taller than average height for females, and also average in size. In the U.S. I did not stand out in a crowd. Here, it's the opposite--I most often do stand out in a crowd. This does not make me feel uncomfortable or strange--I rather like the experience of standing out. I chuckle as I remember all the things I did when I was in high school to try and be different. Wearing colorful or quirky clothes, wearing all black--including black lipstick (before the term Goth was coined), getting a tattoo at age 17, joining the Army when I was a junior, and so forth and so on. Yes, I've spent a great bit of my life trying to stand out and be different--perhaps because my features were so ordinary. 

I never could have imagined that in my future life I would move to a nation where my being white would be the first and primary reason to stand out and be different. But it's true--as they say on Sesame Street, "one of these is not like the others." As the tourists have left UB/Mongolia, there are less of us foreigners around and we do stand out. I especially like being out in public with Zorig and watching people notice us together. While it is becoming more common (I know a number of couples), it is yet UNCOMMON to see foreign women with Mongolian men. We shall enjoy being a rarity while it lasts. 

Finally, I've decided to make a game of how many U.S. states I can find in UB (as names of establishments/places). Here are snapshots of California and Nevada. I've seen a couple of others--but no pics yet. As of now, that's two states off the list, 48 to go. I do not expect to find them all, but it is interesting to consider where and when a Mongolian visited the U.S., then returned to Mongolia and decided to name their place of business after a U.S. state. California is restaurant/bar and there are a few of them around UB. Word is they are modeling their business after the Cheesecake Factory. They do have a stellar presentation of their entrees. Nevada Lounge I spotted on my walk to the U.S. Embassy. I did not visit so can't speak for what kind of establishment it is; however it was funny to see palm trees on one of their signs as I walked in -20 F weather. Made me giggle. 

The Mongolian "9 Nines"

Oh how this Man moves me!

I first wrote about Cold & Pollution back in mid-October and think it's time for an updated post on the topic, as everyone wants to know how cold it is NOW. Dec 22nd marked the start of the coldest time in Mongolia (Interestingly, that's the day that Z arrived to me in the U.S. last year--he's a smart one!). It's the start of the "9 Nines," of which I am now in the fourth 9. The third and fourth 9s are said to be the coldest. 

This morning when I awoke a little after 7 am it was -36 F; it's now 9:30 and up to -27 F. Today's high is predicted to be -15 F. This sounds cold and it IS cold, but it doesn't feel as cold as it sounds. At least not to me. Once you have the proper gear--warm socks and boots, outer pants (aka snow pants--though there is very little snow here in UB--too cold for real snow), layers, a good down coat, scarf, hat, and mittens--one can be quite comfortable moving around outdoors. The downside is that it's impossible to just "run to the store." It takes time to bundle up and then unbundle upon the return home. However, one does get accustomed to this necessity. 

This afternoon I will walk to the U.S. Embassy to get my new passport (returning to my maiden name officially!). Perhaps I'll have a different opinion about the temperature after I walk those four miles (two there, two back).

The pollution as seen from my library at ASU, morning

The pollution also has not been as bad as I anticipated (expecting the worst imaginable was good on my part). But do see the picture here--as you can see that the coal smoke from the gers (foreground) and ger districts (way off in the distance and not visible here) IS what creates it. Taken from Zaisan (where I work at ASU), one should see the mountains on the other side of UB, past the skyscrapers. But the pollution was so thick that morning--an AQI rating of Hazardous when the picture was taken--that you can't even see to the center of UB. There are mornings when I step outside of our apartment building and the smell of coal smoke is strong--it goes right to the sinuses, between the eyes. I put my disposable mask on immediately. Though the pollution has hours and days where it's bad (usually following a very cold night or two), it DOES shift out of the city fairly quickly. In a matter of just a few hours, it can be down in the Healthy range. The day I took this the photo, the air was CLEAR and smelled good when I walked home from the bus stop after 4 pm. I was halfway home when it occurred to me that I didn't even notice the air. That's a good day! 

Sunrise this morning, from our apartment LR window

I was sick a couple of times back in November and December. I had a cold and a couple of fevers. I also had a nagging cough that I'm sure was pollution generated. I did not feel strong, nor like myself in those months. I'm chalking that up to being my environmental adjustment period. This month I feel strong, well, and fully like myself. There is a skip in my step even though I'm walking in these temps. 

Mongolians sometimes ask me if life here is hard. My father-in-law recently asked this while I was out staying at our ger for a night. I know he's referring to the weather, the environmental conditions. I don't think it's hard, but it is different as I stated before. Perhaps growing up in Michigan prepared me for the weather--even going outside at 3:30 in the morning to pee when it's -27. I don't think much about the cold and one can easily make adjustments to deal with the pollution (wearing a mask, limiting outdoor activities, etc). 

"Heather Caveney" in Mongolian Cyrillic

Soon it will be Tsagaan Sar (Mongolian Lunar New Year Celebration) and I'll have a week off from school to partake in the festivities. As I walk through this initial year of life in Mongolia, everything is new and populated with "firsts." Today I will happily return to my first and original name--Heather Caveney--and will remain so for the rest of my days. Zorig and I's wedding certificate has my name written as Heather Caveney (see how it translates to Cyrillic in this image). Zorig's last name is his father's first name (that's how they do naming here--children take their father's first name as their last name), my last name is also from my father. 

I will wrap this post up by saying that my life is good. I'm happy and I'm healthy. The unexpected events in my life over the past year and a half have led me to joys I have not known before. I am growing, expanding, and stretching. Though not always comfortable, evolution is a glorious thing. Thanks for your time in reading this post. Sharing with you makes this journey that much more worthwhile. Until next time--Be well.

The Work

Boys sharing books in my Library

One of my cousins recently asked me the following question (on Facebook), which I've paraphrased a bit: 

• Do you feel like you are just traveling abroad, living the experiences? Or are you actually feeling like you are HOME? Nothing to do with the new husband, just a self realization question on your living situation.

I appreciate questions like this because they make me pause and reflect. While I am a world away, it's easy to get caught up in the day-to-day life and not reflect. I have noticed recently that I've become terribly remiss in journaling ("making report" as Z calls it). I miss it, but I'm also busy living--last night I went to a movie with Zorig at 8 PM, then out to his father's warehouse to pick up some packages and visit the brand new puppies that were born just a few days before, then home and to bed--getting just 5+ hours of sleep. Thankfully today was Friday. :)

Anyway, enough rambling and back to the question. I had to stop and think--because my cousin forced me to take Z out of the equation (well done!). My initial response would have been, "Yes, I feel at home because I am with my Love." But my cousin pushed me to dig deeper. I answered by saying that YES, I feel HOME when I am in our apartment or at my school; while I yet feel like a foreigner-living-abroad when I am out on the streets amongst people. I chalk this up to the language barrier. Not knowing what people are saying, and being unable to communicate with most anyone/everyone makes you feel alienated. Sometimes there is a beauty in that ignorance--I can check out. But more often than not, it's frustrating. I AM currently doing six hours a week of Mongolian language lessons--a 3-hour conversational, small group class once a week, and two 1.5 hour classes/week with a tutor to work on grammar, verb conjugation, etc. I AM beginning to hear words here and there, and feel more confident getting into (unmarked) taxis. This is a long road and I will continue to chip away at it over time.

Before Winter Break, everyone made bookmarks.

I haven't spent much blog space on my job, my work place. It it one of the two places I do feel at HOME (thus far--as I know that will change as time passes), and therefore I want to share with you about it now. The American School of Ulaanbaatar is a lovely place to work; it's good to get up and go to work each day where I am surrounded by fellow North Americans (faculty is predominately American and Canadian, with some from other places such as the UK, Australia, South Africa, Brazil, etc). That said, I equally enjoy the fact that I work with a host of Mongolian citizens. My part-time library assistant is Mongolian and has been at ASU since it opened it's doors in 2006. She and I work well together--seeing the world in a similar way and being direct with one another and others. We find it strange--and lovely--to be from two different worlds/cultures, yet so much alike in our character and thinking way. 

This year I am the Teacher Librarian in the Elementary building at ASU. We have Pre-K through 5th grade with a total of about 330 students--80% of them are Mongolian (which I love!). My experience is in middle (7 years) and high school (3 years), making this a year of growth and challenge. The job is the same--but the way one goes about it changes in relationship to the skills and abilities of the students with which one works. And in response to the structure of the school day and rotation of classes. I am a "Specials" teacher which means I see every class, one time per week. 

There was a steep learning curve at the start of the school year. I had to adapt my classroom management style to the younger students AND to students (in First Grade) that have very little English language. I learned about reading aloud to classes--what stories work and for which grades. I became acquainted with the books I DO have, and began building a list of the books we SHOULD have (which I hope we can acquire for next year). I learned how to support my teaching faculty and how to work with my part-time assistant. Yes, it was a bit stressful back in August and September. But by mid-October I had a rhythm and didn't find myself stressing out about things. 

Here are some things I love about my job:

• It's all about books and a LOVE of reading! The small children GET THIS. There are a host of children that visit me multiple times per week--before school, during recesses, or at lunch--to get a different book or to read in the space.
• Small children want love, attention, and approval. They don't have the filters that age provide. They eagerly raise their hands, OR just blurt out their knowledge.
• Small children love to hear stories!! Most human beings do....BUT I can see these kids lean in, in anticipation of what happens next....  Oh, and they want to tell you their own stories too!
• The staff I work with is knowledgeable and kind! It's a joy to support them and hear about what goes on in their classrooms. 
• Small children spontaneously hug you, say "I love you," and "I missed you," and put their hand in yours to get your attention. They are endearing.

First graders making their bookmarks.

While the students at ASU are predominately Mongolian, the curriculum is North American (we use the Ontario Curriculum--I know....we are the American School of UB, but are using a Canadian Curriculum. Don't ask me why). We use the MAP test on our students, we talk about academic growth and how to be sure students are progressing, and we have a Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports (PBIS) system in place. The conversations are similar to any I've ever participated in while working at schools in the U.S. We do less testing than public schools, thank goodness, but it FEELS like working in the U.S. This is why I am able to say I feel at HOME when at my work place.

I have signed my next employment contract (this initial contract was for only this school year). I will be moving up to the Secondary School next year and now have a two-year contract as the Secondary Teacher Librarian. The Secondary Building has approximately 220 students in grades 6-12. The library--known as the Learning Commons--has three rooms, all connected. A room for the collection with tables in the center for students to work at, a smaller more office-like room, and a room with a handful of computers, and tables where students can study. 

I am looking forward to being back in the land of adolescents and teenagers; but I am also getting all I can out of this year with the small children. I know I will not get presents, drawings, and love letters from the older kids as I do from the Smalls. But I do look forward to teaching research skills and information literacy in partnership with the secondary teaching faculty. 

Now that I have experience at ALL levels--Elementary, Middle, and High--I can say that my "sweet spot" is Middle School. It is my favorite age to work with. They are in that in-between stage where they are beginning to be independent individuals that assert themselves, while they also crave and desire a teacher's interest and positive feedback and reinforcement. 

I'll wrap this up by saying that I am grateful for my employment--both the intellectual engagement and the salary that it provides. Though I moved here for Love and Family, it's nearly as important to have work which is meaningful and purposeful--I'm blessed to have it all. That said....having just completed our first week back post-Winter Break (three weeks off), I will say that I do not like waking up to an alarm, especially since it takes a full two hours for daylight to grace us. The good news is that our days are slowly getting longer. We will have a week off in February for Tsagaan Sar (means "White Month" and marks the beginning of Spring), a week off in April for Spring Break, and then we are done for the year in mid-June. As any Mongolian will tell you, Summertime in Mongolia is the Best! And it's just 150 days away.....

How we Identify Ourselves

I'm about to make a sweeping statement and I want to be clear that I only speak about America (my roots and past) and Mongolia (my current home). I don't know if a more general statement about White/Asian or West/East would also be true. If you have an opinion or observation to share that would enlighten readers, please do so at the end of this piece.

When Americans initially meet the first question of conversation is usually something along the lines of, "What do you do?" People share about their jobs, careers, and places of employment. We identify ourselves by our professions, skills, degrees, and however it is we spend our 40 hours a week (more or less) of work. Until moving to Mongolia, I believed or assumed that this was normal and how conversations were initiated around the globe. Obviously that was a sheltered or limited belief/assumption. But then, you aren't forced to think or see differently until you are OUTSIDE what is  normal to you. 

With one of my first graders at ASU

Here in Mongolia people ask where I'm from (confirm that I'm American) and then they ask about family. More specifically, they ask if you have babies or children. Mongolians never ask about work or employment--that is perceived as too personal. But asking about family is not. Family is what identifies people here. Parents often post pictures with their babies or children; however, rarely with their spouse or partner. It's all about children.

I have mixed feelings about this. My initial reaction is to be a bit put off. I find it too forward, or too personal, to ask about children first and foremost. But I'm confident that is my conditioning talking. I'm accustomed to people asking about my work, my profession, what it is I DO. But are we really what we do? Or is our work truly what we do? What we are up to in life? And is there not great value in being identified by our family--those people we spend the rest of our hours with? A week has 168 hours in it. Generally, people spend a minimum of 40 hours working. Many spend more--as a teacher there is often lesson planning and grading that creep into your home or evening hours. But what about our hours outside of work? How much is spent with family at home? (And doesn't sleeping at home with your family count as hours spent with family?) With friends? Alone? 

I don't think that being identified ONLY by my profession is best. But neither do I think that family should be my sole identifier (and I worry about people that don't have family, or have families that have harmed them). I am so many different things to so many people. I am a woman. I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, and a cousin. I am a wife and stepmother. I am a teacher, a librarian, and a co-worker. I am a friend and mentor. I am a writer, a reader, and an optimist. I am a runner, a thinker, and a human being. I want to be seen as multi-faceted, as complex, as a person with layers, shades, and hues. I do not want to be defined in a single or two dimensional way. Nor do I want to see others in that way. I want human knowing of one another to go deeper. To share about dreams and hopes and wishes. To have thinking stretched, to be pushed beyond our social conditioning. But.....I can't say it's always easy or comfortable to be in the process of that kind of expansion. It's a process of progress. 

With fellow American wife, Michelle

The other question I often get from Mongolians is, "How do you feel living in Mongolia?" or "How do you feel in Mongolia?" I'm never quite sure how to answer this question. It's the word "feel" that throws me off. If they asked what I think about Mongolia, that would be easier to answer. If they asked how life in Mongolia is going, I could also answer that. But "feel" makes me hesitate. Is it about emotions? I can't imagine so. There is a deeper connotation, I think, when they ask how I "feel." Perhaps it is about my soul or spirit and how it feels in this place that is very different from where I came from. Most often I answer simply that I am very happy to be with my Love. 

Life here is not always easy, but neither is it hard. It is different. And we all know that being faced with change requires effort--emotionally, intellectually, and physically. And perhaps even soulfully or spiritually. 

I recently passed my 6 month mark of living in Mongolia. I am half-way through my first year. Some stuff I have sorted out (where to shop for what, how to get around, etc), while other things I'm still struggling with (where and how to be physically active in an Arctic world that lacks gyms that suit me). I've accomplished much that I endeavored to do--acquire suitable employment, make a new home, marry my Love, work to bond our blended family together, make friends. And yet, there is still much to accomplish--learn the language, figure out how to bake in our oven, and feel at ease when asked if I have babies/children and feel myself as being seen in a single dimension. This is assimilation in action.

So now it's your turn. What are your thoughts about how we, as humans, identify ourselves? Have you experienced a different identification process in another part of the world? How did it make you feel? Do you like how your culture self identifies? Other thoughts?