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
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.
I love all of it!!! Can't wait to hear more!!
ReplyDelete