the last banxor story.

So, to skip the broader details of a seemingly awful day, which ultimately led to a marathon of sawing and chopping wood- this tale will begin at hour three of some students working hard.  One of the accompanying English teachers that brought students to saw wood had a lesson, and was leaving my hasha to get back to school.  Of course Banxor took this time to bark and pull at his chain, per usual, when someone leaves/enters.  However, this particular time, he broke through the chain.  So if you are wondering what to do when devil dog who wants to eat your face gets loose...

step 1. start swearing as you run as fast as you can.  and by fast, i mean fastest you ever have ran.

 Luckily the teacher was close enough to the gate to get out with all her appendages, and the dog was interested enough in eating her that my students and I could get enough of a head start to the safety of my ger.

Step 2. start calling anyone you can to let them know the dog is loose while others scream from inside the ger to try to alert neighbors.

Luckily, in this situation, the neighbor girl was home next door, and even though we could never reach anyone from school, the teacher that left heard us yelling, and tried to find the dog owner at the school.

Step 3.  sit inside ger with no windows and listen to the wild dog tear up everything in the yard.

step 4.  keep waiting

step 5.  forget about that meeting that you were going to have at 6 o'clock.

step 6. more waiting

By this point in time, we were yelling across the yard to girl who lives in the next ger.  Pretty soon in the middle of the conversation, she starts screaming her head off.

step 7.  Panic

my students went to quickly exit my ger to help the girl, but luckily it was not her who got attacked by Banxor...instead it was her brother who was trying to get him tied back up.  He quickly took refuge in my ger since it was the closest, and came in grabbing his arm.  I told him to take off his jacket...only to reveal his white school shirt to be covered in blood.

Step 8.  try not to cry in front of your students, and grab your med kit.

We were stuck in my ger...not able to leave because of the devil dog outside.  So we were left to my and my students third rate medical knowledge.  His arm would not stop bleeding, and the med kit could only do so much.  Luckily my site mate is a health volunteer and gave me some quick advice over the phone...The dog also bit his ass so the poor kid could not even sit the whole time (hours) we were stuck inside.  I felt pretty awful.

Step 9. wait.

maybe like an hour or longer later, with the students joking that they were going to sleep in my ger, we all heard a large truck pull up, and after a lot of yelling and commotion, someone had apparently caught the dog.  We all started peeking out from my ger ever so carefully, only to see the fire brigade standing on top of their truck on the outside of the fence with some sort of noose over the fence holding the dog.  The police were also there, and other neighbors were standing over their fences holding flashlights to help.  Something was yelled in Mongolian, and all my students took off running, and jumped over the back fence to get away, and the neighbor kid ran to his ger... leaving me alone and confused.

step 10. stand out in the freezing cold to watch.

They had caught the dog right next to the gate, and after a few minutes, when the firefighters knew they had him secure, and were holding him up by his neck in mid air, the hasha mother and my English supervisor ran in...in a very hurried fashion.  My English supervisor came into my ger to check things out, and then quickly went to my neighbors ger.  The girl came over to grab her brother's bloodied jacket, and told me that they were going to kill the dog.

my knees were buckling because it was so cold outside, but for some reason I didn't believe they would actually kill it, and so I watched.  Since the police were there, and because i had heard tales of them shooting dogs in the winter, I figured they would shoot it.  But what i saw was not the case.  They killed it by hitting it over the head with an ax.  I will save you the gorier details.

Step 11. Cry

Given the other events of the day and standing out in the cold and witnessing this, I lost it and started to cry.  Pretty much right after this, my school director and two training managers came into the yard and into my ger.  Since my overall life goal to not cry in front of people was foiled, I was rather embarrassed when they saw me.  We all just stood awkwardly in my ger not saying much, they lit me a fire, and eventually left, probably thinking I was a nutcase.  Given the fact that there was a cat and a puppy running around my ger at the moment and it appeared as if I was crying over a dog, I will give them that.

step 12.  potty break

Unfortunately, all this took place next to the outhouse, and I really had to pee.  So I had to walk past all of that to go to the bathroom.

step 13. wonder what that noise is...

soon after i had returned to my ger from the outhouse, I heard some weird grunting noises from outside.  Soon after that I heard my phone ring...it was my English supervisor telling me not to go outside my ger because the dog really wasn't dead, and was roaming the yard again.  I am just glad that didn't happen when I walked right past it.

step 14. wait some more.

About 2 hours later my supervisor called me again to tell me that the dog was finally dead and I could exit my ger if I should so choose.  I choose to go to bed.  The next morning, I got to see just how dead the dog was, because the dog body was just left laying out by the gate in a pool of frozen blood.

A trip to the countryside

Shortly after I learned I was coming to Mongolia, dirty Karen sent me a photo of someone riding a yak, telling me that "you need to do this."  So of course it became a priority, and the beginning of many yak conversations.  I told my awesome counterpart of my yak riding desires, and she hooked me up with a journey never to be forgotten.  So we embarked on this journey to the countryside to visit one of our student's family.  Her family herds yaks...about 200 yaks.  I will leave you to only imagine my excitement.  After buying some gifts, we waited for a russian minivan to carry us away to the countryside. 

the car ride.

If you were wondering how many people fit into this russian minivan (that you manually had to wind up to start) the magic number is 18. No seats, no problem!  just sit on the floor!

I have never been car sick before, but here in mongolia, moving vehicle rides are a different story.  In a land of no paved roads, you just drive over huge rocks, and take quick repeated sharp turns to avoid the huger ones.  River?  no problem!  just drive right through them! Luckily, I was fortunate to not toss any cookies, but others in the van were not so lucky. No stopping necessary!  just stick your head out the window, or quickly grab a plastic bag and you are set to keep travelling!

On the way out to the countryside, we took three pit stops.  The first of which were to see the famous chess stones, which are some natural rocks that stick out of the ground.  and then some other rocks that are carved like chess pieces.  My cp's were telling me that they thought people were buried on these grounds (along with a king), along with gold and such, and no major excavations had ever taken place.  Which I think is just awesome.  The cool thing about the chess stones is that I could climb on anything I wanted, and further jump off anything I wanted.  Let’s just say I took full advantage.

i like making mongolians jump off things with me

can you see the red mark?

Our second pitstop was at someones house to use the outhouse.  This outhouse could accommodate two people at once, and had two planks missing from the ground.  The person before me went in, and I others tried to get me to go at the same time telling me it was possible.  I pretended not to understand their mongolian and politely waited to squat solo. Luckily the person behind me did the same.  When exiting the outhouse, in front of a line of Mongolians waiting, I may have not see a plank of random wood that was connecting the outhouse to the fence, and I so confidently walked straight into it. The onlooking Mongolians choked back their laughs to ask if I was ok. To date it was the third worst time that I have hit my head in Mongolia.  I had a red mark on my head for a day, and it hurt for about 4 days.  

Our third pit stop was just a very random potty spot break, but we our drive had already nestled us into the beautiful mountains and just this random place that we happened to stop was mind blowing. This third pit stop is in fact, why I love living in Mongolia.

Once we reached out destination, we all climbed out of the clown car and just straight into a giant herd of yaks aka my destiny.

The countryside bathroom.

I had asked shortly after our arrival if there was an outhouse. Ha ha.  silly me. In the countryside, you just go to the bathroom ANYWHERE!  So once I mentioned the bathroom, all the ladies decided that they all had to go, so we departed for the outside all together.  We made our way through the herd of yaks and across a frozen river until we found an appropriate place to pick our flowers.  As I started to pee, a couple yaks heard the noise, and traveled my way to see what was up.  Now, in Xorollo, I had gotten pretty close to some cows while I was peeing before, but this experience now takes the lead for animal/peeing proximity.  These yaks just came right up with no shame and tries to stick their noses in my business!  I shooed them, and finished quickly.  Once I had walked about only a foot away however, the yaks had immediately come back to the spot where I was squatting, and started to lick the ground. 

Milking a yak

The family I stayed with milks roughly around 30 yaks every morning, and also every evening.  I got to help them milk two yaks.  Let's just say in the time it took me to milk those two yaks, they had already finished milking all the others.

Milking a yak is perhaps similar to milking a cow, in the sense that it is uncomfortably moist down there and that it is difficult, but it is much different in the sense that there is a lot more hair, and the thingys that you are supposed to pull are super tiny.  With a cow, you would use your whole hand, but now that I am experienced, I can tell you that with a yak, you just use your thumb and pointer finger.

Pro yak milker.

Again, when the american steps up to the yak milking plate, crowds form, laughter ensues, and pictures are taken.  So first step is again to let the baby yak suckle for just a bit, before you set up your stool and bucket to start yan

king away.  Now, with the yak, there is so much hair, that you can't see what you are supposed to be pulling under there.  I expressed my concern, and was just told to stick my hands under there until I feel ''it."  So, I did as the Mongolians do, and just gave that yak a nice belly rub until I found what I needed to find.

Compared to my cow milking experience, I was a pro at yak milking.  Yes, it took me a long time, but my milk pale actually had some milk in it.  Later, I got to drink my spoils, and it was the best yak milk I ever drank.

My destiny.

I rode a yak. Better yet, I rode two yaks. So while we were all milking yaks, the dad of the family set off with a string and the sharp tip of a yak horn and a string to ready a yak for riding.  I have learned in Mongolia to not really ask about things I don't understand, such as this yak horn...but I soon found out after seeing the blood dripping nose of a freshly pierced yak what exactly it was for.  Once I saw this of course, I may have made a face and walked in a different direction while being laughed at for my disgust.  But soon enough I was jumping on to the back of a beautiful yak with a bloody nose.  This yak was quite calm and it was a pleasant little ride. The second yak was a different story. Not saying this yak was totally crazy or anything…it was just a little more not as calm…and it was bigger and more difficult to jump onto.  I guess I was jumping to quickly, which scared the yak which scared me and resulted in me jogging away, and Mongolians laughing.  So the owner of the yak herd gave me a boost, but the yak still moved, and I ended up just lying on the yak perpendicularly while again, laughter.  I soon straightened myself out and grabbed on to some yak back hair for stability because the yak was not too happy to have me aboard.   Worth it.

Up to your elbows with...

So in a countryside with 200 yaks, you can probably guess what you have plenty of right outside your front door...dung.  So in the life of a herder, your daily chore is to go pick this shit up.  It is dried out and used for fire fuel to keep you warm and to cook your food and such.  The 2 year old toddler also takes part in this activity, and has her very own pot to carry yak pies in.  (More adorable than you could imagine)  Cultural note: in Mongolia, no gloves necessary!  Just use your bare hands.  Since usually as a foreigner my crazy thoughts get entertained, I was given a shovel when I first asked for one... but then when that proved extremely difficult, I just took the plunge and used my hands.  It wasn't terrible as long as you just didn't think about it.  Sometimes you would come across a patty that was frozen to the ground, to which you just start kicking it until it comes loose.  When repeated kicking does not work, THEN it becomes reasonable to use the shovel. 

buuz

After finishing dung collecting, I washed my hands in a bucket, and helped to make lunch...which was my favorite food, Mongolian buuz.  I started folding them the only way I knew how, as the lady next to me was folding fancy patterns.  I asked her to teach me, and she was more than happy to help me.  She showed me about 5 different ways to fold them, including one that produced some funny looking buuz.  I’ll let you decide what you think they look like…but of course took a photo, and the lady thought I was just taking a picture of the fanciness, so she folded some different patterns and made me take photos. 

Belly scratches

I wanted to pet every animal this family herded, which included yaks, sheep, goats, and a couple dogs.  There was a surprise horse in there too. We arrived after dark, and all I wanted to do was stay outside with the yaks and pet them.  Which I did for a little bit lol.  They didn’t always want for me to touch them, which mainly involved me chasing after them to feel their soft soft hair.  The goats and sheep wanted to be touched less than the yaks, and they ran faster than the yaks.  I got to pet a couple of slower goats, but the sheep were ridiculously fast.  In the morning there was a lot more yak chin scratches and goat belly rubs.  But the sheep were still impossible to touch, and I probably spent a good 45 minutes trying to chase the sheep before they went out to pasture.  I also wanted to hold a baby goat, who I realized after I was holding it, that it was more of a large adult goat.  Nevertheless I was just trying to tell it how awesome I thought it was when he threw his head back and maimed me in the face with his horns.

Mountain climbing admiring

When we first arrived in the evening, all I wanted to do besides pet the yaks was to have a night hike climb to the peaks of the beautiful surrounding mountains, but the more reasonable Mongolians wouldn’t let me go up them because of some “wolves” that were apparently already on the mountains.  So every time I went outside I always got babysat by my Mongolian students who entertained me enough to let me climb up half of a mountain after dark.  The next day, after a hardworking morning of yak milking, yak riding, sheep chasing, goat holding, dung collecting and buuz making, it was then the appropriate time to go climb the mountains around us.  We were all a little tuckered, and after making it up about a fourth of the mountain, we all just sat and admired the view and the gers nestled into the nook of the mountains next to the river and were complete content on leaving the summit for the grazing goats.

Dairy products and Mongolian vodka

So the really cool thing about visiting this family is that I got to learn about even more mongolian dairy products like the wonderful boiled milk foam and fermented yogurt cooked awesomeness stuff, yak yogurt, fermented yak milk, and a ton of others.  Also come to find out that Mongolian vodka is also made from, of course, dairy products!  First a yogurt is made, and then fermented and cooked down to distil the vodka.  Mind blown.

Photo time:

school 4 teachers and students

selfies with sarlags

the family gave this yak to me since i was clearly in love.  

this horse came out of nowhere.

the herder family.

After the family loaded us up with dairy goodies to go back home and enjoy, we loaded all 16 of us back into the clown van, along with a few bags of dung and set out on the bumpy journey home, through the frozen over rivers and alongside the  mountains.  Best trip ever.

More BX tales

My water container.

So after the confusion and utter chaos with my former water containers, I just bit the bullet and bought my own.  A beautiful 25 Liter blue container, complete with handle.  I went to the well and filled it up while being so excited to have my own container that no old lady could take away from my ger.  It is a bit of a ways back to my ger from the well, and lets just say 25 liters of water was way heavier than I had anticipated.  Nonetheless I trudged onward taking it 100 ft at a time before I had to put it down and rest.  Pretty soon, this 6th grader boy came running up to me notebook in hand.  He quickly opened it, and began asking me questions from his english lesson.  Luckily after a few pointers, he grabbed about three fourths of the handle and helped me carry it.  Since I could really only grip the handle with two fingers, and still kept having to break, this little boy just took the whole water container (which was only slightly smaller than he) and huffing puffingly carried it to my gate.  He thanked me for my help and I thanked him for his.  It was pretty great, thus I made a policy of free english tutoring for any kid who wants to fetch my water for me.

Blue water container update: Since buying this new water container, my neighbors kid broke it while he was getting water for me and now it leaks out the bottom.  Since he was doing me a favor, I really couldn't be upset about it...but it led me to my next purchase of another water container. Also blue, also 25 liters, but this time it opens from the top in stead of having a pour spout!

Mongol Names.

Mongols typically have long names. real long with deep meanings.  A lot of Mongolians have names that involve the word for the day of the week they are born on, or like my Mongolian host sister, her name includes the phrase for sunrise, since she was born...at sunrise.  One day in class when I was pondering this in great thought, I was trying to think of what i would be named if I was named for the time i was born...I was born somewhere around 9pm...and i figured I could not be called sunset, since 9pm was too late for that, but I thought nightfall could suffice, or maybe something to do with stars...and then I snapped back into reality quite harshly when I remembered my real name is April...which was conveniently the month I was born in. Womp womp.

More devil dog tales

Banxor is tied to  fence so that he doesnt eat people's faces off.  Sometimes on barking rampages,  when he is jumping wildly to try to eat you and pulling ever so roughly on that chain, I think that someday that chain is just going to snap.  He knows me now that he doesn't wildy bark at me anymore, but I think that my face still looks pretty tasty to him.  One saturday afternoon, I came out of my ger and Banxor was sitting in a different place in the yard, closer to my ger.  I stopped immediately in my tracks not knowing quite what to do  since he was loose.  I slowly started to back up towards my ger while maintaining eye contact with him just in case he decided he wanted to run.  Luckily I made it back inside my ger, and shut the door swiftly after me.  I stood gasping for breathe, not knowing what to do, since there was no way i was exiting my ger ever again.  Gers have no windows, so I was sure by now, Banxor was sniffing around the outside of my ger...just waiting for my face.  I armed myself with the best weapon I could (tongs) and opened the door just slightly enough to stick my head out and assess.  Luckily, my neighbor at the moment also came out of her ger.  She looked at me as if I was crazy, and I managed my arm out of door to point towards the dog, and say the dog is free.  She continued to look at me like I had twelve heads, and said its ok.  The conversation continued a little while before I understood that Banxor was still tied up, just to a new place...closer to my ger.  Thanks for the heads up, maybe?

Fear

Just while on the topic of Banxor 'getting loose,' one night I came back to my ger in the dark.  There are no street lights or what not here, so it gets very dark.  So when i entered my hasha, I could see nothing, and just walked towards the general direction of my ger.  When I was approaching my ger, there was a animal to the side of it making noise.  I quickly took the quietest steps towards my ger because I thought it was Banxor.  Luckily I made it into my ger with all my limbs.  Later I had to go out to get some coal, and I took my flashlight.  I made sure Banxor was in his normal spot, before I shut the door.  There was still an animal out there, but come to find out it was only a cat.

Mongolian doors.

you think i would have learned by now to duck when entering anything with a door, but I have not.  and my head hurts...often.

cars

cars are a little different here in Mongolia.  well...i guess cars arent so much different as in ideas around cars are different.  for example- car seats for kids, who  needs 'em!  The most people my corolla ever had inside of it was 7 people...sure, ok.  it seemed like a lot at the time, but let's be honest, there was so much room still available.  Here in Mongolia - the police dont care if you have enough seat belts for everyone in the car...its more like a game of hmmm, there are already 9 people in this back seat?  I think there is still room for a couple small runny nose children to fit in, oh and this goat.

literally as big as my head.

dairy products.

just when you think there cant possibly be any more dairy products invented, you then are invited to eat solidified boiled milk foam.   yum!  Fact.  solidified boiled milk foam is actually my favorite.

in other news, my former hatred of the arol, the dried cheese curd has now disappeared, and I actually like it. It's a pretty big deal, because now i dont have to hide it in my pockets anymore!  My favorite kinds are the super hard pieces that you think you might chip a tooth trying to eat.  Also, a super awesome nice teacher from my school gave me an entire bag full of it the other day.  I couldn't have been more thrilled.  Some pieces were as big as my head!



I scream, you scream, we all scream for trash?!?

There is this truck that drives about the city on random days playing delightful music...to me, I automatically think, wow...mongolia has an ice cream truck?  But no.  in fact it is not an ice cream truck. Fact: It is the garbage truck!!!  It's kind of brilliant- it's so people know when to bring trash out and throw it on the truck.

It's a trap.

My ger also has flys in addition to spiders.  Not a big deal really.  I hung up some fly paper from the upper poles of my ger, and it took care of the problem.  Now the only difficultly with this fly paper is that the my ger is a little...short.  and I am not, and the up most part of my body is my golden locks.  That's right.  I have gotten my hair stuck in it twice. You may ask yourself, what is worse than having to pull sticky fly paper out of your hair?  Well I am here to tell you. It is pulling the dead fly bodies out of your hair that didnt come off with the fly paper.

Do you have a dog?

In Mongolian, there is only a slight difference between the word for dog (no ckai), and the word for husband (no cker).  For the untrained ear and mouth, it is quite very subtle.  Unfortunately, here in Mongolia, I get asked about 5 times a week if I have a husband, since being 27 and without husband is viewed as unreasonable here.  Let's just say that quite often I reply to the husband question with,  'of course I have a dog'...because i think they are asking me if I have a dog. furthermore, once the person I tell that I have a 'dog', they usually ask me where my 'husband' is. To which I reply, tied up in my yard, of course! since he is so mean!

Brunch!

If it is one thing I miss about American culture, it is brunching.  So my fellow site mates and I planned a
brunch weekend complete with Mongolian bloody mary's and breakfast huushuur.

If you dont remember, Huushuur, formerly spelt hosher, is a deliciously fried pocket of dough filled with meat. to reiterate, delicious.  But this time it was breakfast huushuur.  That's right, eggs, cheese, and quite fortunately, there was bacon!  Since I am still confused on how to perfectly combine the perfect amount of flour with the appropriate amount of water in order to make the huushuur dough, I invited all of my fellow english teachers to my ger to help.

my awesome sitemates

In traditional mongol fashion, they were about two hours late, so by the time they arrived, JC, L and I had perfected our bloody mary recipe, were a few bloody marys in, and feelin' it.  We tried to offer some bloody mary's to the mongolians, but they found them rather 'spicy' and distasteful and refused them with wild hand motions as if the disgust on their faces didn't convey their point enough.  When trying to convey that it was spicy, they just said their mouths were busy.

folded

Some of my teachers had a basketball competition (one explanation for lateness) and when they arrived, they were all wearing Bull's uniforms with some sketchy numbers sown on the back.  So mostly the mongolians set to work creating this delicious meal, and the americans tried to help where we could.  Once the meal was finished, we all grabbed some huushuur and stuffed our faces.  We had a siracha dipping sauce, which of course was equal in dissatisfaction as the bloody marys.  One mongolian covered her huushuur in it however before she knew it was spicy.  After she took her first bite, she quickly realized her mistake and let out a huge 'oh my' and tried to scrape it all off.

fried

fantastic

om nom nom

All in all, it was a perfect brunch.

Minii surguill

Have I really not written for that long?  It's because I am busy having new adventures to write about.  But mainly school is keeping me busy.  Here are a few school tales:

The basics

My school is pretty great.  It is conveniently located about a two minute walk from my ger, and it is painted an overwhelming sea green color.  you can see it from almost anywhere in BX, so it's a great landmark.  School time is from 8am until 7pm, but different grades come at different times.  It is an eco-school, meaning that we have plants scattered about!  Also we have a fish tank.  On my first day of school we had about 5 fish, and then within about month we just had a very very dirty fish tank.  I have 8 fellow english teachers (counterparts) that I team teach with - 5th to 11th grades. Sometimes, there is no power at school, which phases no one, and select students get to walk around and ring an actual bell to let everyone know it is time to change class.

my school from atop the neighboring mountaintop

Team Teaching

Team teaching is where both I and a Mongolian English teacher teach a class together.  The goal is to not only help students learn english, but to build the capacity in my english teacher counterparts.  So in a perfect world, I am not supposed to ever be the only teacher in the classroom.  However, this doesnt always happen.  One day, my counterpart wanted to leave class when we were playing review games.  For one of the review games, the mongolian language was needed.  I expressed my concerns, and to combat this, my counterpart appointed an 11 year old to be my co teacher for the day.  Even though you cold tell the girl really wanted to play the review games, she stuck true to her role and helped me teach and corral the other students.

Cracking up

I know when I speak Mongolian, I say things incorrectly all the time. That is just a given fact.  Like the time I told my host mom, a cow (okir) was death (okil) and who really knows what other gems have come out of my mouth.  It is all part of learning a launguage.  Similarly English words get mispronounced by Mongolians all the time in class.  Most times, I can keep a serious face, but sometimes I lose it.  Here are just a few of my favorites:

Peace Corps: Peace Corps gets said constantly as Peace Corpse.  This reminds me of all the tales I heard about the former CMDD skater with the such a name. I can only hope in her country of service, that this was also a common mispronunciation.

Bear: We were reviewing animals one day in class, and the picture was a bear.  The student I called on however, just so politely said, ‘this is a beer!’  I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Sensible:  Probably my favorite so far.  While going through students one by one to check pronunciation for this word, one student so confidently blurted out ‘sexy-bull’.  The class started cracking up first, and unfortunately after that I lost it for a moment.

Names

Mongolian names are very long and just hard for me to say. When school first started I had the best intentions to learn all of the students name, but after about just a week, that quickly changed to me just trying to pronounce names correctly when told to me.  After the first entire quarter of school, I know 4 students names (one of which I am pretty sure I say quite incorrectly, but the student just entertains me).  Usually I just get by with pointing at students.  One day, however, in 5th grade, we circled up and played a name game where you introduce yourself, and then introduce all the people who have introduced themselves before you.  Naturally i went first, meaning I just had to introduce myself. When all the students finished, my counterpart teacher felt the need to embarrass me, and said, now April will introduce everyone!!!! Let's just say that took me about 10 long minutes and I completely ruined everyone's name.

Saying hello-

Some kids overwhelmingly like me, and other kids are very indifferent, nevertheless, everyone will say, shout and scream hello whenever they see me.  Not just one time, but 8 times until I start ignoring them. Back in Xorolloo soum, when there were only 20 kids total, it was endearing, and now it tests one's patience. Sometimes they just cycle through all the ways to say hello, good morning, good evening, hi, etc.  and then once I physically pass them, the goodbyes, bye byes, see yous begin.  Others will say hello, and when I answer, go the other direction giggling.   For the students who like me, there are additional steps to greeting me, which include running across fields to catch up with me just to say hello, walking me home, and the ones who when they see me, proceed to tell me every english word they know in no particular order. There is this one student, who whenever she see me runs up from behind me and grabs me to say hello.  I rarely see her, and so this is always a scary surprise hello...I am still getting used to it.

Apple for teacher

In the states, students might give teachers apples.  here in dino land, students sometimes give me delicious delicious dried cheese curd.

it's number twister!

Coming up next:
The Chicago Bulls come to my ger to make breakfast huushuur.

3 pales of water, 2 sheep, 1 knife and a Friday afternoon.

I came home from school one beautiful friday afternoon.  There was a new addition to our hasha yard...two sheep, that were tied to a fence eating a plastic bag that was also conveniently tied to the fence.  I paid no mind to their cuteness, because I knew they would be supper, and just went into my ger.  My hasha family had recently given me a big water pale, and when I got home, they came over and reclaimed one of the small ones that they had given me- leaving me with one small pale, and the big pale.  They day went on and after a little while, the girl that lives next door, came over and took the other small pale, and my pocket knife (aka my one and only knife).  After another 10ish minutes, she came back in my ger and told me to come outside for the main sheep event! 

Now, I always thought of the killing process in Mongolia to be sort of similar to the second Indiana Jones movie, where they just reach in and take out the heart, removing it still beating as the sheep would just slowly go to the big pasture in the sky, but, I guess I missed that part.  When I came outside, the sheep who were previously standing by the fence, were already being skinned...with my knife!

he was clearly upset

  My hasha neighbor guy complimented me on my knife as I approached to watch the skinning.  It was a family event - the daughter held the legs firmly as the father pushed the carcass around ridding it of its hide.  And the mother waited idlely by trying to keep the baby calm as it was getting upset at the activities.  Calming the baby involved taking his toy car, and running it over the sheep and into its lifeless head.

Soon once the first hide was shed, it was time to gut it.  The mom set the baby aside and once the stomach and intestines were removed, she started to clean them.  I eventually became the baby holder, because he was getting pretty upset, and I was just glad to be holding the baby instead of having to help with the sheep! 

During this whole process, I was expecting there to be a lot more...well...blood.  But it was a pretty bloodless event until the chest cavity was opened.  And it was opened with such precision as to not lose a drop of the blood.  Ladle by ladle my hasha neighbors put the blood into the small water container that they took from my ger. Once the heart was cut out, the teenager girl started cutting it up into little tiny pieces.  While she was doing this chopping, excess blood was just bleeding out onto the cutting board and ground.  During this whole gutting process, I started to make faces, at which my neighbors just laughed...but during the heart chopping blood ladling activity, I think they could really see my face in utter disgust.  I only think this because they all cracked up at my uncomfortableness, and then started to pick up different organs out of the bucket and pretended to eat them raw in front of me.  They told me how much they loved to eat the different parts, and I told them how much I disliked the different parts, to which, naturally, was unreasonable for them.  After the first sheep was done, they picked it up to hang it up, and drips of blood just fell upon this man's jeans.  I thought for a moment that maybe these pants were this man's animal killing pants...kind of like pants that you might get paint all over while painting, you know, your painting pants.  But somehow, I think this thought might also be unreasonable...they are probably his only pair of jeans.

The process was repeated for the second sheep, and during the ladeling of the blood the second time around, I thought I had seen enough, and retired to my ger and busied myself with a movie.  Not too long after the meat processing was finished, a truck pulled up right outside my ger to start loading some wood that was next to my ger.  About ten minutes later, this old lady came into my ger, and without even returning a pleasant, hi how are you, she grabbed my large water container, and started to carry it out of my ger!  I jumped up and asked her what she was doing.  From what I learned culturally so far, is that if you ask a Mongol a question, and they dont want to answer, they will either, depending on the situation at hand, either 1. ignore your question and keep staring at you awkwardly, or 2. ignore your question and keep struggling to carry your big water container until another Mongol comes over to also ignore your questions and help the old lady carry your water container away.  Because I am naive, I figured they would soon return in, so I just went back into my ger.  Come dinner time, I still did not have any water, since my water container had in fact not been returned.  So this left me with quite limited options to make for dinner.  I could not really make anything without water aside from that chunk of pig meat that my neighbors made me buy on my first food buying outing, so I got it out of my freezer, and I got out my frying pan...and then I remembered that my neighbors had my only knife.  So I put the meat back and had some really bad sugary korean peanut butter that I got in UB for dinner. 

it was a family affair

Later that evening, right before I went to bed, my teenager neighbor came and returned my knife, with dried butchered sheep still on it.  I just left it for the evening, because I, in fact, had no water to wash it.  The next day, I still had no water to cook, or knife wash, so I asked my neighbor about it.  Their response was to give me back the small water container they took the previous day, complete some water in it.  However,  it was the water container that previously held the sheep blood, and let's just say the container was not washed before they gave it back to me.  It's funny maybe? 

Cultural note:  When killing a sheep Mongolians really do cut open the chest of an animal, and stick their hand inside.  However, instead of removing the heart like an indiana jones movie, they just reach in, find the main artery, and cut it.  

Mongolia is kind of like a parade- there are always interesting things to see, friendly people, and NEVER a shortage of candy.

Some beginning tales of my first couple days in BX:

My ger

my first ger fire

I live in ger now.  It's awesome.  I roughly hit my head about 28 times a day...on average. (yes I keep a tally)  I maybe should have brought my derby helmet.  Anyway, after a day of not sleeping – due to awkward plane times to BX, I arrived at my ger as the sun was rising around it.  When I first entered my ger, I was with the school director, two random Mongolians that helped carry my bag, and my hasha neighbor.  There was of course a plate of offerings passed around- what I thought, in my very tired state, to be dried cheese curd.  I respectfully took a piece, and since everyone was watching me, took a small bite to be polite.  Much to my surprise, I discovered that this treat was not the dried cheese curd that I so dislike, but it was in fact, just solidified grease.  SURPRISE!

Also, my ger smells like a camel.  Given that all the bactrian camels are out in the countryside, and not actually in the city as I originally thought, I am taking this as a win. 

The hasha dog

My new hasha dog...is vicious.  I heard a rumors about the dog before I even arrived, and turns out, they were true.  terrifying.  nothing like Balto.  It is a very husky brute of a dog with blood red eyes and an inward breathing growl that just creates fear. Due to its viciousness it is kept chained to the fence.  It’s name is Bankor (for now, always subject to change).  I have been slowly feeding it bites of solidified grease every time I walk past as to get him to like me and not want to eat my face off. 

Meat soup

So I spent two weeks through this big change living out of my suitcase and buying food from stores that I wanted to eat.  like vegetables.  My awesome personally crafted diet included very little, if any meat.  The morning  i moved into my ger, my hasha family brought me over a bowl of meat noodle soup to eat before i went to sleep.  Now, normally, i would eat around the meat, but this particular morning, it was weird...I WANTED to eat the meat, and I found myself eating around the noodles...I was very highly surprised by my actions, and began wondering how much I have actually changed since coming to Mongolia...my wonder however ceased when my hasha family also decided to share dinner with me...meat rice.  My normal self was back...wishing that Balto was around to share my dinner with.  I took this opportunity to share the meat with Bankor, in hopes, again, that he will now not want to eat my face off any more. 

More tales of meat.

My hasha neighbor  took me grocery shopping the day after my arrival.  I picked up all my basics, like flour, rice, onions, a couple eggs, etc.  And when I told my hasha neighbor I was ready to check out, she gave me the craziest look! She asked me about what meat I wanted to buy, as if I forgot to put meat into my basket.  I told her it was ok, I would get it next time, but that was absurd to her.  She pulled me to the meat corner, and threw a chunk of pig in my basket.  I asked her how much it was, which of course was absurd to ask, because it was meat.  turns out it was about 7000 tugs (like 5 bucks) and the most expensive thing I would buy that day.  Once leaving the store, she  pulled me across the street to the meat warehouse, telling me that i also needed some cow.  Once inside, it was rows and rows of carcasses hanging about, and I was ushered through them to a cow table.  I expressed that I have to eat the chunk of pig before I buy cow, and my hasha neighbor accepted this statement, and was satisfied that I now knew how to at least get to the cow portion of the meat market.

Spiders.

I think that spiders are going to be my new best friends. They are everywhere in my ger.  My former policy for killing spiders was to live and let live, depending on two things:

1. their decisions to touch/crawl on me; and

2.  if they were poisonous.  (Sorry brown recluses)

However, now, there are just so many in my ger, that my policy has been quickly revised.  My average spiders killed a night is around 18.  I have a specific kill zone for them at least, and as long as the spiders stay out of the area, they are safe.  I lie in my bed at night before I go to sleep, and watch them all crawl around.  When they get in the area next to my bed, I strike.   It's quite exhausting...kind of like counting sheep, only a little more...rugged.

Sometimes in my sleep, I feel them crawling on my body, and I sleepily snatch them and throw them across the room. 

What to do when you put on an article of clothing and realize that it has a spider hiding in it:

1. Scream, loudly
2. Strip and Trip – defined as the process of taking off your clothes in such a fast, panic-ed manner, that you literally fall on your face.
3. Shake out your clothes both inside and out
4. Get dressed, again, but this time in fear.

Oatmeal

I love oatmeal.  that is a given fact.  It is a little scarce in Mongolia, so when I saw some in Suhkbaator, i naturally bought it, and packed it in my suitcase to move to Bayankhongor.  Well, the other day, some Mongolians that did not speak english came to fix the bed in my ger.  One of them spotted the oatmeal, and let out a chuckle with a confused look on her face.  She asked me why I had horse food...and I said, neigh...thats my food.  She laughed. Asking me what it was called, I looked it up in the dictionary, and showed it to her. The dictionary translated it as some type of rice, so the Mongolian understood.  She then said something to the extent of 'octo-mill' to which I thought was a Mongolian word I didnt understand before I realized she was saying oatmeal.

A dry sink. 

If you are unfamiliar, a dry sink is a sink without pipes or running water that you can use for your sink needs.  There is a bucket underneath that catches the water you use, and when it fills up, you empty it. The water in the bucket is always very nasty, and the bucket below my dry sink is pretty gross and rusted, but you know, it does its job.  My dry sink also has a quite abnormally large hole that the water and what not drains down.  Things fall into my sink a lot, which created a fun game that I hate to play called, will that fit down my dry sink hole.  So far, here are the results:

Nail polish: yes.

chapstick: of course.

entire bar or soap: naturally

vitamin bottle: no. awesome.

toothbrush holder: surprising, when dropped at the right angle, yes. 

my eyeglasses: of course. why wouldnt they.

Social Situations

It is not uncommon in Mongolia for people to drink shots of vodka...and most times, when gathered in a circle and shots are being passed, it is normal for the person receivng the shot to start singing a song, and then everyone else joins  in.  At the end of the song, the song leader takes the shot, and the process starts again.  I really only know two legit traditional Mongolian songs, one of which is the Mongolian National anthem, so really, in such drinking situations - not appropriate.  So the other day, my counter parts all got together to celebrate one of the teachers getting married.  I found myself in such a singing situation, and much to my horror, before it was my turn to take the shot, someone had already sang the only other song that I knew.  A few songs later, it was finally my turn...and I just sat there with an awkward smile on my face, with everyone egging me, saying, surely you know another song...and they were right, i did...Naraa Naraa Naashar...the mongol equivalent of ring around the rosie...so I started singing, and with a laugh, everyone joined me for a very rushed sing a long. 

Fermented Mare's Milk

Actually not that bad.  Maybe like a creamy champagne?

Picture time:

my fellow english teachers

yaks!

view from the mountain top...with yaks of course

Big life changes

So a lot has happened for me in the past month and some.  I have said goodbye to my host family, moved to Dakhan, went through my final Peace Corps training sessions, found out my placement, met my new bosses, moved to the Ulaanbaator, got official sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer, moved into my new life for the next two years, got very ill for a bit, met all of my counterparts, started teaching english, and have been slowly exploring my new home.  Its been a little exhausting to say the least.

Here are some tales from my last couple weeks in northern Mongolia:

A sisters tale

After dark is quite dark in Xorollol.  there are no street lights, and clouds mostly cover the moon.  It's pitch black.  One night, my sister asked me to accompany her to the nearest store (delgor) to get some bread for the morning.  It is about a 5 minute walk, and the day had spent its time raining, leaving puddles scattered about on the mud roads.  We embarked on our journey, and as soon as I stepped out of our hasha, the darkness shot through me.  I yelled to BL that it was the darkest I had ever seen... she grabbed my hand, and we started running to the store.  Since it was dark, we could not see the puddles, but our feet found them without difficulty.  The splashes we made covered my clothes with water, but on we ran, trying to avoid the puddles with no luck.  Once inside the delgor, we bought out items, and left in the direction of home without haste.  We slowly tried to navigate the puddle minefield, our breathe held with anticipation.  We still found the puddles of course, and we covered the sounds of the splashes with our giggles.

Eventually we made it home, to walk through the hasha gate and find balto (formerly bartok) running up to greet us.  Like always, I greeted her by saying her name, only to have my sister call out, 'that's not balto.'  With the small amount of light shining from the house, I quickly pieced together the mongolian words with the different color dog running straight at me. The terror that I felt in that moment was expressed through a loud sound - an indistinguishable word caught between Mongolian and english - that echoed through the yard.  I pretended to pick up a rock from the ground in defense, and luckily the dog ran a different way, as I went running for the door. 

Meat, Milk, and a Tree – the unabridged version

The 11 of us Americans living in Xorollol put together a host family appreciation day for our host families.  When we told our families that we were going to have tea and cake for them, they decided to instead treat us to an outing to the mother tree, and have a xorxok. A xorxok is basically meat that is put in a pressure cooker, and hot hot stones are put in to cook it.  The mother tree is a religious site, I believe having to do with buddism, but considering I have no internet access, you are on your own to look this up for an explanation.   My host parents were away for the weekend, and so my host sister, BL, went with me.

We all piled into the different cars that we would take us out to the mother tree.  My sister hopped in a meeker, and I followed.  There were no seats in the back of the van, but there was a comfy bag that I got to sit on.  So spacious and nice it was in the back of the meeker for our 30 minute drive to the tree.  However, about 5 minutes after I sat down, I was told that I was not going to ride in the meeker, and so I had to get out and ride with Rose’s family in their small car. So as soon as I got out of the meeker, it left, and I went to Roses’s car…Her parents were in the front seats, and in the back, there were 5 of us to sit.  So as we all squeezed in, and Rose sat on my lap, we took off for the mother tree and all I could think about was how there was just so much room in that meeker.

Once we made it to the mother tree, we all climbed out of the clown car, and I met back up with BL.  She gave me a bag of rice and a candy, and we began throwing it around the grounds.  People were all around doing the same, some throwing milk, others throwing rice and other grains.  All around us were stacks and walls of tea bricks, and people were all around praying. It smelled of rotten milk and the ground was disgusting. Haddocs (blue mongolian respect scarves) were hung and strung everywhere.  Closer to a tree carcass on the ground, people were lying down and praying.  I was a little baffled, but BL grabbed me soon enough and pulled me to a pillar that was wrapped in scarves and drenched in milk and motioned that this was where I was supposed to stick my head into and pray.  “Dreams” she said, “you dream.” So like BL, I stuck my head into the scarves, and overcome by the smell of sour milk, I prayed for what I wanted. Now, I don’t know if this is like a wishing well where if you tell it wont come true or not, but just to be on the safe side, I will keep my wishful wantings between me and destiny.  When we were both done, we walked on and found the actual mother tree.  I was a little confused that if we were to pray, why we didn’t pray at the actual tree, but you know.  We lit some incense, which was quite a welcome smell compared to the spoiled milk, and we then threw some milk along with some more silent wishes as we left the grounds backwards.  Overall it was a pretty overwhelmingly weird experience, but I was glad to have had it, and share it with my host sister.  Soon enough we were all getting back into the cars, and I tried to sneak back into the spacious meeker van with my sister, but alas again, I was pulled away and pushed back into the clown car. 

The Xorxok – our host parents were laying out a nice spread- full of fruit and cakes and other dishes while the men tended to getting the meat cooking.  Us PCVs who were throwing this host family appreciation busied ourselves with volleyball and kite flying.  Soon, when the meat was cooking, we gathered with two cakes and vodka  (our gift to our host families), and presented them with nice things to say in broken Mongolian.  Then as the families sat down to enjoy the cake, we gathered around to eat the food put out…with the majority of us congregating around the fruit platter, due to the lack of fruit in our diets since the states.

We all ate, and then played some Mongol field games, such as piggy back horse races, wrestling, and a water balloon toss. After games were over, we were finally treated to the Xorxok- first by the hot hot stones.  We were told to pick up these outrageously hot stones, and the throw them around in our hands because it would give us good health. The rocks were of course covered in hot meat juice, which made the ritual all the more pleasurable (sarcasm).  One Mongolian instructed me to rub the hot rock on my face, because that was also really good for my body.  I politely declined to put the meat smelling rock on my face, and was met with only a small death glare.   When the meat finally was laid out, we all grabbed a piece of flesh with our bare hands and began chomping away.  It was the best meat I have had yet in Mongolia…very similar to grilled meat, but way more juicy.  So juicy in fact that meat juices dripped down our arms and off our elbows, making the meal even more satisfying.  On a side note, Mongolians don’t really believe in napkins.

Road Trip

We said goodbyes to our host family at the school, outside of the meekers that were to take us to Darkhan.  Our host families gave us treats for the road (handfuls and handfuls of dried cheese curd), and they walked around with a bowl of milk from which we were all to drink.  After we were all in the van, and milk had been carefully poured over the wheels of the vehicle to keep our journey safe, we set out to paved road…away from Xorollol, away from our families, away from food we didn’t like to eat.  And at a safe enough distance away, we through our handfuls of dried cheese curd out the window. 

Playing dress up

My family had once last chance to dress me up before I left for my permanent site…And that they did.  They bought me a dell, or traditional Mongol wear.  It was purple, and had princess sleeves. And luckily, it did not come with a chef’s hat to wear.

My host family

Leaving my host family was sad.  They were very welcoming, not only to me, but also to the friends that I made during training.  The swearing in ceremony was a week after I left in Darkhan, and my host family actually drove down for the event, which was touching in itself.  After the ceremony closed, my host sister ran down to the floor, nearly knocking me over with a hug, right before my host mom did the same. I got plenty of hugs, kisses and Mongol smells, as did my Xorollol friends.  Visiting time was rushed however, because the bus to the capitol was leaving, and we all had to be on it.  My family escorted us to the bus, and we all got on, waving goodbye with my host moms bright red lipstick smeared across all our faces. 

these are the kids that terrorized me my last day with my host family.  I have know idea who they are.

Ulaanbaator

UB is easily not one of my favorite places in the places in the world, and I am glad I do not have to be here more than a week.  Since UB is the main transportation hub, most volunteers leave from the city to go to their permanent sites. We were put u in a dormitory, in what i was told as to not be the best part of the city, but the beds were comfortable, and there was sort of a rusty red water cold shower available...it was …quiant.  Well, everyone left to go to their sites at different times, with the last person leaving on Tuesday...leaving me in these scary dorms by myself until Friday.  Another PCV stuck in UB because of a safety and security issue in his city was nice enough to give up the choice of a hostel to stay with me so i wouldn’t be alone.  When the country director found out about our living arrangements, she had us moved into a hostel within a couple hours.  It was great. Not only was there a hot shower that I had not experienced since leaving the states, there was wifi. Luxury.

Anyway, UB is a place that has such a different culture than the rest of the country.  For example, I saw a Mongol lady walking down the street...walking a dog.  On a leash!  how absurd!  At least i thought it was absurd, until I saw another Mongolian come up, and pet the dog! Then things just became utterly crazy.

a dog on a leash?!?

the T-baator in UB

I also got to randomly meet the ambassador, and take the awkward photo.

But, now, without futher adu, let me tell you about Bayankhongor, my new home...

Bayankhongor

BX is the capitol of the Mongol Province, Bayankhonger.

BX not only has mountains (a 360 degree view of mountains, I might add), rivers (3), green land, desert, and steepe, it also has DINOSAURS!!!!!!!!

I will be living in a ger, and as if that is not awesome enough, my ger is on a mountain.

Ger logistics

My ger is a four wall ger, meaning that it has four sections of felt walls that will wrap around to insulate it. 

Yes, in fact, there is no running water in my ger.

For the winter I will be burning wood and coal.  Not that many trees grow in southen Mongolia, so I wont have a lot of wood, but they do mine coal in the south, so my ger will be getting a bit suit-y.

I have a hasha family.  This is not like a host family, but rather it is the family that owns the yard that I live in.  They live in their ger, I rent out one of the other two gers in the yard, and I share an outhouse with them.  An outhouse without a door might I add.  That's going to be chilly in the winter...

There are a lot of superstitions and traditions that come with living in a ger...for example, whistling will bring snakes and witches to my ger..  also, tripping into a ger is good luck...viewed as if you were carrying riches into your ger that you didnt see the step, and have all the riches into your house.  Tripping out if the ger is the opposite...bad luck...seen as if you are leaving in haste while running from your enemies.  So if one trips out, one must re-enter, and put another log on the fire, to prove that you weren't really leaving the first time. 

Coming up next:

Tales from Bayankhongor and my ger.  Spoiler alert:  there are spiders.