Sukhbaatar Square

Hello?  Is anybody reading?  Will someone please leave a comment?  Or become a follower of this blog?  Please!  Hello?  Harro?  Is anybody reading?

Here are some photos of the big Ghenghis Khan Statue in Sukhbaatar Square.  Sometimes, there are big events in Sukhbaatar Square, so sometimes, if I'm very bored or lonely, I'll walk to Sukhbaatar Square and see what's up.  If I'm lucky, there's something going on.  If I'm not lucky, at least I know there will be all kinds of people walking, biking, rollerblading, playing chess, just hanging out.  It's nice.  It's definitely something I like about Ulaanbaatar.

Happy Hallowe'en

Yes, technically, the word "Hallowe'en" has an apostrophe in it.  I spelled it that way one time when I worked in Korea, and all my coworkers thought I had made a typo.  I guess they can be forgiven for not knowing, since all my coworkers were either Korean or British, and they don't celebrate Hallowe'en the way we loudmouth, holiday-creating North Americans do.

Anyway, as you know from a few of the pictures in a few of my older posts, I went to the Choijin Lama Temple Museum.  It remains one of my favourite sights in Ulaanbaatar, even now that I've been here for awhile.  I think it's a definite must-see.  Anyway, in the big temple, on the ceiling, there are these wild paintings of blood and gore and viscera.  I was like, "Whoa!".  Then I snuck a picture.  Most of my pictures of the bloody, gory viscera paintings are either dark, blurry, or both because you have to pay an extra 5000 Tugrugs to take pictures inside the museum, and I'm cheap as fuck, so any pictures I took, I had to sneak (shhh, don't tell, k?).  Anyway, on my way out of the temple, I noticed that this is called the "temple of mercy"... wtf?  If that is the Mongol idea of mercy, I'd hate to see what they conceive of as torture.  Anyway, happy Hallowe'en!  I hope everyone gets some really good goodies today!

ARGH!

Dels are really cool.  What's so cool about them is that you see people wearing them everywhere.   It's traditional clothing that people (albeit, mostly old-timers) actually still wear around town.

I wish I could be all happy and cheery in this post, because the man's outfit in this picture is totally awesome and because it's Halloween, , and just, in general, I wish I were happy and cheery, but I'm not.  You see, there was an incident yesterday at work.  You see, my camera went missing.  I started searching for it.  I knew exactly when the last time I had it was, but nonetheless, I looked everywhere.  I searched the area around my desk.  I searched that area five times.  The more I looked, the more frantic I got.  A few of my coworkers started to help me search.  I told my boss my camera was missing.  She made everyone join the search.  Suddenly, my camera was "found" by my desk, under my chair.  My camera was NOT there when I searched my desk area the five other times.  I know, because I had moved everything (including the chair) in that area searching for my camera and it definitely wasn't there.  So, my camera magically reappears, and then my boss lays in to me (in front of all my coworkers) about accusing my coworkers of stealing from me.  I try telling her that my camera had definitely not been under my chair, and she says that I just missed seeing it.  No fuckin way (I didn't actually say that, though).  I tell her that it's possible, just possible that someone put it back there when they realised that the entire school was now searching for my camera.  She says no, she SAW three people all find my camera at the same time, and I feel like a retard.  I don't understand how that is possible, because I definitely looked under my chair, and it definitely wasn't there, but if three (essentially four) people all found my camera at the same time, it must be true.  Then, she continues to demean and demoralise me (in a very condescending, nasty way), and a few minutes later, she lets slip that three people TOLD her that they found the camera under the chair together.  I ask her, which is it? did you SEE three people find the camera or did three people TELL you they found the camera.  She says there is no difference.  I say there's a huge difference.  Then she says, it's okay, no one will steal your camera again.  I retort sarcastically, yeah, they won't steal it again.  She lays into me for "making fun" of her English.  I wasn't making fun of her English.  Her English is pretty marvelous.  If she let slip the word "again", deep down, I think she knows what really happened.  In the end, I guess it's okay because at least I got my camera back and I know what really happened, and I guess that's all that matters.  But I'm upset because I was the victim there, but in the end, I was made to look and feel like a giant foolish shithead.  I have to go into work now, and I don't want to go.  I may be a whitey, but I'm not Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the tooth fairy, or any other fictional character with a bag full of endless goodies.  The expression "what's mine is yours" is only an expression.  Don't take it too literally.  It does not mean you can help yourself to my camera.  And besides, I never once said to you "what's mine is yours", so just fuck off my stuff, okay?

Not much to say

It has occurred to me, and I am becoming painfully aware that, Mongolia is not a huge place, and the expatriate community here is tiny, which means that if someone stumbles on this blog, it might be immediately obvious who I am, and since my whole point is to be 100% honest on this blog (that's the goal) and since I am naturally extremly shy and private, I have a conflict inside me at the moment.  I don't know what I'll do.  I'll probably continue the blog.  My desire to start and keep a daily blog is bigger than my desire to be private to all my friends.  Besides, what friends?  I don't go out much and hardly know anyone here, so I guess that's all cool.  The only thing is that I wouldn't want my coworkers or my students to stumble on this blog.  But I guess if they did, I'd have to live with it.  This picture is not of my school, but I thought it was pretty neat.

Korean in Cyrillic

When I was teaching business students in Korea, I found from listening to them that Koreans really like Mongolia.  This was confirmed when I decided to move to Mongolia and told a few of my Korean friends about my plans.  When I arrived in Mongolia, I found that Mongolians seem to love Korea as much as Koreans love Mongolia.  This was confirmed to me when my high school students spent twenty minutes listing all the K-pop they love and when I noticed the superabundance of Korean restaurants in downtown Ulaanbaatar.

The Hite

Anyone who has ever lived in Korea and forced down the skunk known as Hite might enjoy this picture and the juxtaposition of signs.

The Ger

Most big cities in North America have suburbs, full of cookie cutter houses which are full of people who live cookie cutter lives.  Suburbs in North America tend to be more affluent areas.  Well, Ulaanbaatar has suburbs, too.  Kind of.  The outskirts of Ulaanbaatar are surrounded by ger districts.  A ger (in other Central Asian countries, it is also called a yurt) is a tradictional circular tent which can be raised or dismantled within one hour.  It also apparently costs only about $600.  So yeah, back to ger districts.  I guess you could say that they are kind of like suburbs.  Except they aren't full of cookie cutter houses (cookie cutter gers?) full of people leading cookie cutter lives.  The ger districts are the poorest parts of the city.  Apparently, the people who live in the ger districts are the people who moved fromthe countryside to Ulaanbaatar hoping to make a better life for themselves but found only poverty, instead.  This picture is actually not of a ger district.  I should go one weekend and take some photos of a ger district.  This picture is of a random ger which someone put up next to an apartment building on the street where I live.  You can't see the door to the ger because Mongolians always raise their gers so that the door faces South and I clearly took this picture from the North.  If I'm ever in doubt about directions, I just locate the nearest ger and check where the door is.  I haven't had a sense of direction this good since I left Canada.

Asian Cowboys

I said it on facebook and I got, like, six "likes" for it, but I'm really slowly but surely coming to the conclusion that Mongolians are just a bunch of Asian cowboys.  Everyone has boots on.  I mean /everyone/.  And most people are wearing cowboy boots.  I seriously see people walking around all bow-legged like they just got off of a long horse ride or like a couple of cowboys in a wild west town making their way to gunfight.  Mongolia is the Wild West.  It's just the Wild West of the Far East, y'know what I mean?  The other week, I saw some Mongolian mounties.  I mean, they weren't wearing the mountie red or the ridiculous mountie pants, but they were definitely Mongolian mounties.  They had cowboy boots with spurs and they were wearing cowboy hats and they were on horseback.  Right in the middle of Ulaanbaatar.  I'm not kidding!  Even Canada only brings their mounties out for special occasions like parades and opening ceremonies for big events, but it seemed like a fairly normal occurrance here.  Nobody even batted an eye.  Except for me, and I just looked like the foolish whitey tourist which I kind of am.  Anyway, the day I saw the Mongolian mounties had to be the day I figured "What the hell could happen today that I haven't already seen here?" and left my camera at home.  That's the way it works, amiright?  So, anyway, instead of looking at a picture of Mongolian mounties (which, trust me, would have been pretty cool), you get to look at a picture of a statue of a Mongolian boy (complete with cowboy hat and whip) riding a bucking horse.  It's on Peace Avenue.

Restaurants

This restaurant is close-ish to where I live, and it always reminds me of Valentine's Day.  I'd like to go in and see what the food is like, but I haven't, yet, because I don't know enough about Mongolian food to order something tasty (I know-- the only way to figure out what's tasty is to try it all), I can't read cyrrillic very well yet, so I'll look like an idiot when I try to order, and I'm trying to be very frugal at the moment, which means cooking at home instead of eating at restaurants, even if the restaurant is ridiculously cheap, as I suspect this one is.  Oh well, I think I'm pretty decent cook, and I really like my own cooking!

But seriously, I do have to try this restaurant.  I noticed yesterday an incredibly similar restaurant in a different part of Ulaanbaatar, so now I'm wondering if this isn't a chain.  Also, on the other restaurant, I noticed a word in cyrillic that looked like "russky", which makes me wonder if these restaurants don't serve Russian food... mmmm, perohy!

Lenin

I feel like a retard, but I'll be honest: I know the name 'Lenin', but I don't know what he did.  Is it something good or bad?  Note to self:  look up Lenin on wikipedia, and find out why he's such a famous historical figure.  (Or, if you're reading this and you know more about Lenin than I do, you could leave a comment and educate me).

In the moment

I like finding neat examples of Asian architecture in Mongolia, like this gate (?) in downtown Ulaanbaatar.  I'm not sure what the name of this street is, but this is right in front of Tengis (the movie theatre), whatever that street is.  Also, I love taking photos of people unawares.  I know that politesse dictates that I should ask before taking a person's picture, but then you just get these really obvious pose pictures, and sometimes that works out fine, but lots of the time, it doesnt.  I don't know the people in this picture, but I like the in-the-moment-ness of their conversation, and I wouldn't have captured that if I would have stopped to ask them their permission.

The Mugging

Puujee sits in my kitchen.  I'm worried about Andy, she says.  He called her at 2:00 drunk, and she hasn't heard from him since.  He's not answering his phone.  It's 5:00 now.  I try to tell her that it's okay.  I tell her that he's probably just passed out at the wedding somewhere.  She looks doubtful.  No, she says, Mongolians are bad guys and they will do something bad to him.  I'm really worried, she says.  Have some tea, I say, and I pour her a mug.  She just sits and looks at it.  Five minutes later, five minutes too late, I realise that this is her way of asking for help.  Would you like me to go with you to look for him if I put some clothes on, I offer (I'm always in my pyjamas when I'm at home).  She nods, yeah.  I tell her to give me five minutes to get dressed, and then we're off.  We decide to look at the hotel where the wedding was held first.  On our way to the hotel, we try to keep our conversation light, but I can tell that Puujee is still worried.  And rightfully so.  Not far from home, we find Andy.  He is on his way home.  He's stumbling and he isn't walking in a straight line.  He's obviously drunk, but he looks very dazed.  His face is red, and I can't tell whether he's been hit or not.  His pants and boxers are torn at the crotch.  Puujee runs across the street without even checking for traffic.  I take my time and make sure no crazed motorists are aiming for me.  When Andy sees Puujee, he flies into a rage.  Fuck you bitch, he says.  He spits at her.  He keeps telling her to fuck off.  He keeps saying that he's alive and that's all that matters, and she doesn't care.  Puujee just stands there looking stunned.  I tell him that Puujee does care, that she was worried sick, that she thought something bad might happen to him, and she made me come with her to look for him.  He just spits at her again.  I tell her that I'll take him home (he's my neighbour, after all) and that maybe it's best, while he's in this state, that she go to her own home.  She nods.  I take Andy home, trying to support him, make sure he doesn't trip or slip.  I try to keep him away from other pedestrians.  They look frightened.  I would be, too.  I can't understand much of what Andy is saying, but he keeps saying that he's alive and he wishes he were like me.  He thinks I probably think he's psychotic, and I tell him no, I actually think when you're sober you're a very intelligent person.  I get him home; he doesn't have his keys.  Or his phone.  Or his wallet.  Shit.  I don't have a phone either.  How will I get him into his apartment.  I tell him to stay in my apartment because I think it's better if nobody sees him like this.  He nods.  I go out looking for someone who might be able to help me get him into his apartment, and I wonder what I'll say to them to get them to open up his door for me.  In the hallway, I see Puujee.  She came back.  Thank god.  She's got a spare set of keys.  I tell her that he's in a very bad state, and I think it's probably best that she not stay.  She nods.  She opens the dorr, and then hides around the corner.  I go into my place and tell Andy that his apartment is open.  I tell him to let me check first to make sure that no one is in the hall, because I think it's best if no one sees him like this.  I bring him to his apartment, and he immediately starts looking for Puujee.  He even checks in drawers.  It would be kind of cute if it wasn't so sad.  Puujee!, he keeps calling.  She steps out from around the corner, but he can't see her.  We gesture to each other.  Should she come in?  In the end, she decides to come in.  Andy gets upset because he thinks I'm uncomfortable.  He tells Puujee to make me comfortable.  We decide that maybe now I should leave.  I tell Puujee that if she needs any help at all, to just knock on my door.  She nods again.  Fifteen minutes later, I decide to go check on them.  I hear raised voices and Puujee saying that something is hurting, so I knock on the door.  She opens it in tears and says that she has to leave.  I'll take care of Andy for the rest of the night.  He immediately forgets about that episode, and he starts asking for Puujee.  I tell him I'm pretty sure that she's gone for the night.  He keeps asking.  I feel sad for him.  I make him some pasta and tell him he should eat.  I sit with him in his apartment.  Finally I ask him if he feels safe and I tell him that I'm going to go back to my own apartment now.  He nods like a little boy.  Like a lost little boy.

The next morning, I see Andy again.  You were mugged yesterday, right?, I ask.  Oh definitely, he says.  I tell him I wasn't quite sure last night.

Religion

My mother is very Catholic.  I feel like a terrible Catholic because although I'm baptised, I don't practice at all.  To be honest, I don't care much for any kind of religion.  To be really good and honest, religion gives me the creeps, and having to talk about it makes me feel just icky all over.  I don't have anything against ultra-religious people, really, but if somebody is going to be really very uber-weird, it's going to be an ultra-religious person.  Also, if someone is going to be really very uber-dangerous, it's also likely going to be an ultra-religious person,  And I'm talking about all religions here-- currently in North America, people are terrified of Muslims, but think about all of the other religions that are just as dangerous.  Throughout history, it was the Catholics that people had good reason to fear (even though, now, I think we're kind of kittens).  And I wouldn't want to be a Palestinian in Israel right now.  And those are the Jews causing violence... the same people who love to always remind everyone that throughout history, they have been persecuted.  What happend to "turn the other cheek" and "love thy neighbour" and "do unto others"?  I guess it's only the Jehovah's Witnesses that believe in peace and not starting wars, but then again, there's something a little strange in that, because Jehovah's Witnesses believe that when the world ends, there will be an army of 500,000 comprised of, you guessed it, Jehovah's Witnesses, so the only way to salvation is to become a Jevoah's Witness in order to ensure your spot in the army of 500,000.  Is it just me or is there something incredibly hypocritical in claiming not to believe in armies in your physical life but to believe in one in your afterlife?  Seems like a very clever draft dodge to me.  But there are much more than 500,000 Jehovah's Witnesses in the world these days, aren't there?  And if this army is to be comprised of all the Jehovah's witnesses who are already deceased, then the number gets ever larger.  So, it seems, merely being a Jehovah's Witness does not ensure you a spot in the army of 500,000 (it actually seems like a spot in that army is going to be extremely competitive) and therefore does not ensure your salvation.  Why would anyone want to go through the trouble of being a J-Dub if they weren't even guaranteed salvation, which they're not since there millions of Jehovah's Witnesses in the world and, apparently, on 500,000 can be saved.  And, by the way, if the world ever did end and there were to be some kind of army (what is the purpose of this army, anyway?), I'm going to want the heathens who have experience fighting in armies already to fight in my afterlife army, not all you wimpy draft-dodging tax-avoiding J-Dubs.  Only the Buddhists seem to be truly peaceful and 100% accepting of other religions.  If I didn't find all religion to be so creepy, and if it didn't make me feel like a mainstream phoney hipster, I might just try out Buddhism.

Christians these days don't practice what the Bible preaches.  Nobody would every give away every last one of his or her possessions and give them to the poor.  Nobody.  But everyone who is a Christian claims to be a good Christian.  I've also met my fair share of Christians who I think are huge hypocrites.  They think that as long as they put in their time Sunday morning, that entitles them to be an asshole for the other six and three quarters days of the week.  And if you point out to them their bad behaviour, they look at you like you're crazy because everyone knows that you are the bad person because you don't believe in God and you don't attend church.  It's unreal.

There is no such thing as intelligent design.  About three or four months ago, I was stopped on the street in Seoul by a couple of uber-Christians (I can only assume they were Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons because they stopped me on the street), and they asked me whether I believed in evolution or whether I believed in intelligent design.  I could tell by the way that they were phrasing their questions that they were trying to trick me into admitting that intelligent design exists.  The problem is that, as you know, I have arthritis in my back, and that particular day, I was experiencing excruciating pain, which means that I was literally hobbling along the sidewalk.  So, I looked at these girls and I said, "It's 100% evolution.  Intelligent design does not exist.  There is no big guy in the sky looking out for me.  Look how much pain I am in.  I'm a good person.  I never did anything to deserve this and any kind of loving or intelligent God would not do this to a good person, so he must not exist.  There is no such thing as intelligent design."  They left me alone after that.  But I really meant every last word I said.

Anyway, I feel like I've let down my mother for not being a practicing Catholic, but I feel like I would let myself down even more if I practiced any kind of religion at all.  I'm definitely with Bertrand Russell and Christopher Hitchens on this one.

Sorry if this post offends anyone.  It's not my goal to offend people who have different beliefs than I do.  It's just that I've decided that with this blog, I will be very honest abut what I'm feeling and thinking, and these are my honest views on religion.

Statue of Virgin Mary at a (Catholic?) Church in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Art Installation

I saw this art installation on the wide street that connects Peace Avenue to Seoul Street and I thought it was pretty neat, so I snapped a pic. I've only been in Mongolia for about four weeks, now, and there are already things about it that annoy me (Mongolians, in some countries, speeding up and aiming for the pedestrian is considered attempted murder!), but I really do like the general atmosphere in downtown Ulaanbaatar, and so when I'm feeling down on Mongolia, I should remember all the things that I like about it, like art installations and a cool atmosphere and it's a walkable city.

Chess

Mongolians like chess.  At the southern end of Sukhbaatar Square, I came across all these people sitting around playing chess.  The man sitting at the front of the first picture gestured that I should join him for a game, but I was too shy because I don't know how to speak Mongolian and I don't know how to play chess.  If I did know how to play chess, it would have been such a good experience.  Oh well, at least they were cool with my taking their photos*.

*These photos were taken with my iPhone, btw, not with my Canon.

Peace Bridge

Ugh.  This is another one of those pictures which I chose a long time ago, and, looking at it now, I can't understand why I chose it because today it just looks boring to me.  Maybe it will look much cooler with the black backdrop I've chosen for my blog, but still...

Anyway, I suppose I chose this picture to give you a better idea of what Ulaanbaatar looks like (because Lonely Planet didn't give me any clues-- just a bunch of landscape pictures, remember?).  This is Peace Bridge, which is South of the city centre.  I walk over Peace Bridge every time I go into the city centre, and you might read about it when you read about Ulaanbaatar (I know I had read about it before I got here), although, now that I look really closely at my map in my Lonely Planet, it's not actually marked on the map.  Oh well, it's not like the bridge really goes over any kind of body of water, the way bridges normally do.  To me, it's more of an overpass, although "Peace Overpass" does not have the same ring to it as "Peace Bridge" does.

Clothes

As I've mentioned in a few other posts (see the post called 'Diets Abroad' and also the post immediately preceing this one), I'm on a diet because  I gained a lot of weight, starting when I lived in France, continuing when I lived in Kuwait, and finally, culminating when I was stranded in Canada, unemployed and living with my parents.  When I moved back to Korea, I immediately started my diet, as I knew I would (a Korean's favourite thing to say to a white person is "Don't worry, you'll lose your weight", so I knew there would be pressure to take some weight off).  After a couple of months in Korea, I had lost some weigt, but then the weight-loss started to plateau, so I did something drastic.  I started jogging six days a week and I implemented a no meat, no sugar policy.  I wanted to see if I could last an entire month without any meat or sugar.  It turns out that I could.  After I finished my first month of no meat, no sugar, I took a week to enjoy all the meat and sugar I liked (mmmm, Big Macs and chocolate!) and then I started another no meat, no sugar month.  After the second no meat, no sugar month, it was freaking hot in Korea, and I couldn't fathom an entire Korean summer without ice cream, so I momentarily abandoned my no meat, no sugar diet in favour of the ice cream diet (that is, eat as much ice cream as you like, all day, every day, knowing that it is so hot outside that you are just going to sweat it all off, anyway).  But now, I'm living in Mongolia again, and I guess it's time to resume my diet (even though, on my first day here, I had some women tell me "Don't worry, you'll gain some weight living here" in response to my statement that I don't eat much meat because of my diet).  So, I'm fifteen days into a no meat, no sugar month.  It hasn't been easy.  Actually, I did have sugar once this month without realising it.  I bought a bag of coffee-flavoured peanuts without even thinking that pretty much anything coffee-flavoured is bound to have sugar in it, and I was 3/4 of the way through the bag when I realised that there was, in fact, sugar on thsoe peanuts.  But it was a small bag, so I didn't stop when I realised about the sugar, I finished the bag, and then I forgave myself.  And I'm still patting myself on the back for making it through "15" days of no meat, no sugar, despite that one little accidental lapse.

Anyway, the diet seems to be working again.  I am taking more weight off.  I am fitting back into pants which I never thought that I would fit back into.  Some of my pants are starting to even be too big for me!!  My family would be shocked to see me now, because I'm starting to look more like the person I was three years ago, and less like the person they said 'goodbye' to one year ago.  I'm not sure what I'll do when my clothes are finally so big that I can't wear them anymore.  I'm hoping I won't have to worry about that until much, much later on, because I haven't seen any clothes shops in Ulaanbaatar that I would actually want to shop at.  I mean, there are plenty of cashmere shops, but I can't have a wardrobe that consists entirely of cashmere, can I?  Okay, I'll answer my own question-- I think a cashmere sweater here and there and possibly even a cashmere skirt would be really nice and welcome additions to my wardrobe, but I don't think I even want a wardrobe that consists entirely of cashmere.  There are also the dels (traditional clothes), and I am thrilled everytime I see people out and about, wearing them, because, I think, on a Mongolian, a del is a really beautiful piece of clothing.  But on me, I think a del might just look like a fancy bathrobe.  So I can't replace my too big clothes with a few dels, anyway (besides, I think there's something weird about whiteys who go traveling and feel the need to 100% adopt everything about the new culture in which they are traveling/visiting, so that's the other reason I don't think I'd buy a del, even though I do think they are beautiful).  One piece of Mongolian clothing that I do want, however, are some Mongolian cowboy boots.  They are totally, completely beautiful.  Last weekend, I went to the opera, and since it was a Mongolian opera, all of the characters were wearing traditional costumes, and there were a few characters who were wearing the most beautiful cowboy boots ever, and I seriously want a pair.  I spent half of my time at the opera thinking, "I need to find out where they bought their boots!"  But even if I do get the boots, that doesn't help with the fact that my pants are too big.  I'm hoping that I'll be able to last until summer, at which point I will either go to Canada and do some shopping (even though I generally don't like the clothes that are in stores in the summer in Canada-- I think Canadian stores have the nicest clothes in the fall) or I'm thinking about maybe going back to Korea for the summer to teach a summer camp (you can make about three grand working at a summer camp in Korea) and then I could buy some smaller clothes when I'm back next summer.  We'll see...

Old women wearing dels (traditional Mongolian clothes)

A bad mood, a rant, and then a list of things for which I am thankful, just to even the score and brighten the mood a bit

I liked this picture a week and a half ago when I chose to put it up on this blog (I've been trying to choose photos in advance), but now I'm kind of bored with it.  I saw this little horsey at the Choijin Lama Temple Museum.  There were a few there, but since they were so low to the ground,a nd since I have arthritis in my back and am not always comfortable kneeling down or turning my body in weird positions to get good shots, this is the best picture I got, even though I think some of the other little horseys were prettier/more interesting.

I've been in a pitiful mood this week.  Actually, it's been a disgusting bad mood.  Everything seems wrong in my life at the moment.  My boss won't give me my passport back (and I'm really worried about that), my work was three days late paying me, and even then I didn't get all the money that was owing to me, I haven't met many people yet in Ulaanbatar (I may be a loner, but I also like knowing that I have friends I can hang out with if I need/want to), and, ...

[The rest of this rant concerned my desire to go to law school and my inability to gain admission to law school.  I'm going to try one more time to apply to law school and, in the interest of preserving my good image which any law schools might maybe have of me, I have deleted the rest of this rant, lest this blog or this post become too terribly popular and the law schools figure out who I am and see this rant in a negative light].

I'm trying not to nurse my bad mood or feed into any poor me feelings (despite my previous rant), but I just can't seem to break out of it.  I hope this bad mood ends soon.  I know my bad moods are my own responsibility, that I should be able to break out of one at any time I choose to, but it really isn't like that.  I want to be happier.  I want to be nicer.  I just can't.  I have to start thinking happier thoughts.  So, I made a list of all the things in my life for which I am grateful:

• I have a stable job, which isn't too demanding.
• I am cooking for myself again.  I love to cook, and, in Korea, I wasn't cooking for myself at all because of my very tiny kitchen and the fact that I lacked things like counter space and a fridge.  Now, I have a real kitchen (although I still don't have an oven), and I am cooking for myself again.  I love coming home and wondering 'What am I going to make myself for dinner tonight?' and knowing exactly what ingredients are going into my meal, because I'm the one putting it together.
• I now have a computer at hom.  It's not hooked up to the internet, yet, but hey! at least I've got a computer at home now!
• I have weekly tickets to the ballet/opera, and it's not costing me a fortune.  I love the opera, and I love the ballet more.  And I love the fact that the most expensive ticket to the ballet/opera here is the equivalent of $6.25.
• I am almost all finished my Christmas shopping, and I'm really excited about the gifts I've chosen for all the people I love.  I hope they like their gifts as much as I like em!
• I am healthy and my arthritis is 99.99% under control.  It not longer controls my life; I control it.
• I have more than enough clothes and, even though many of my clothes are starting to be too big for me and I'm not sure where I'm going to find affordable clothes which I really like in Ulaanbaatar, I am thankful that a lot of my clothes are too big for me, because it means that I am losing a lot of weight and getting closer to my old weight, and I feel really good about myself.
• I have parents who love me, even if I don't get to see them very often.
• My ugly haircut is growing out.
• I brought about ten books with me to Mongolia, and I'm thankful for this because there are not any bookstores here that have any kind of selection at all of English books and/or magazines.  After I finish reading the books I brought with me, I've still got the Sony Reader which my brother gave me for Christmas last year, and I was looking through it the othe week, and I think I'll really like it.
• I have friends offereing to mail me licorice (and other friends offering to mail me other fun parcels).
• I'm starting to get my debt under control, despite the fact that I'm currently only making 1000USD/month in Mongolia.  I don't think debt will ever be a problem in my life again.
• I can speak a second language, even if I'm not always eloquent in it-- hell! I'm not always eloquent in my first language, so who cares!?
• Ulaanbaatar is a pleasant surprise.  I generally like this city, despite occasional bitchings and a few bad days here and there.
• I crave adventure, and I've built a life (and a career) that ensures that I've got enough adventure and new experiences in my life.
• I may not love my career (I would sincerely prefer to study law and work in the legal profession), but at least I have a career, and at least I have a job, and at least I love some aspects of my career (such as the fact that it is necessary for me to travel to different countries, since my career is teaching ESL abroad).

A little horsey at the Choijin Lama Temple Museum in Ulaanbaatar

Cats and Dogs

My mom calls me the cat-whisperer.  Okay, no she doesn't.  I don't know why I lied to you just now.  But my mom does say that I have a special way with cats.  A couple of summers ago, when I was home in Canada visiting my parents, I caught, rescued, and tamed, a little orphaned kitten who otherwise would have died.  It came to think of me as its mommy (seriously, it used to try to suckle on my sleeve every time I'd pick it up and cuddle it).  Then, the next summer, also while I was home visiting, my rescued cat who was my baby disappeared for a few days.  In my family, when a cat goes missing, this is never cause for concern, since my family lives in the country, and cats come and go all the time.  Sometimes they come back all scratched up, as though they've been in a massive Tom-fight.  Sometimes they come back bearing a giant prairie chicken (that actually happened with my childhood cat).  Sometimes they come back pregnant and six weeks later we've got a new little of kittens.  Sometimes they don't come back, but that's how life is with farm cats.  But, when my little baby disappeared, I was understandably worried because she was my baby (it turned out later, when a neighbour noticed its massive fuzzy balls, that it was actually a he, but we always thought it was a she because when it was a kitten, we mistook it for a girl).  Well, one day, as I stepped outside to take my dog out for a walk, I heard a tiny meow from behind a bush.  That sounds like Whitey's meow, I thought (my mom named the cat, in case you're wondering), so I did some investigating.  Turns out that Whitey was, indeed, behind the bush.  She was also totally bloody and one of her hind legs was mangled badly.  Also, "her" balls were inflamed to three times their normal size.  We thought maybe someone had caught her and tortured her (people around my hometown can be sickos) or that maybe someone had tried (and partially succeeded) to run her over (it's a stupid pastime, but I know for certain that people around my hometown enjoy trying to hit small animals on country roads).  Whitey hung on for two weeks, but, since she was "just" a farm cat, we never brought her to a vet.  That's the way it is with farm cats.  Whitey hung on until her mangled leg actually started to heal and she could put weight on it.  She ung on until maggots started living in her festering wounds.  When we saw the maggots, we took a substance similar to Dettol, and we cleaned her up.  I think she thought we were trying to be cruel.  she disappeared, and we never found her again.  I kept looking for Whitey (or for her body) for a few months after that (this was the period of time when I was fat, unemployed, and stuck at my parents' house).   It was very sad.  Before she disappeared, she would crawl into my lap, and I would let her, despite the blood and the maggots.  This time, I let her suckle on my sleeves.  It was devastating to see the kitten that I had rescued just one year previously in such a sad state.  I felt like I had let her down somehow, but there was really nothing I could do.

What my mom doesn't know about me is that I'm also kind of a dog-whisperer.  I guess my mom might not realise this about me because I've had a massive fear of dogs for most of my life (extending well into adulthood).  It was only when my brother got Cujo (a loveable little shihtzu with a huge personality to match his name) and forced him on the entire family (and, of course, we all fell in love-- it was impossible to not love Cujo), that I came to enjoy all dogs.  Now, every time I see a dog, I have an urge to reach out and pet him.  Scratch behind his little ears.  Tickle his chin.  Talk baby-talk to him.  Tell him he's a good boy.  There are a lot of dogs in Ulaanbaatar.  There are a lot of street dogs in Ulaanbaatar.  Here's a picture of two of the dogs that live on the street where I live.  I have a big soft spot for the white dog.  I haven't petted him yet, but I'm pretty sure he would let me.  I'm going to make it my mission this year to befriend this dog.  He just seems like a little sweetheart.  Sometimes when I walk past him, he walks up to me and looks up into my eyes with his big brown doggy eyes, and you can just tell that he's a nice dog.  I feel bad that he lives on the street.

I hope this bad week turns around real soon

Yesterday was a bad day.  My school was three days late paying me my salary this month.  And I really needed it!  And it was my first salary that I received from them, so they even had me worried about whether they were the type of place that regularly pays their employees or not.  And they have my passport because they were going to "help" me register with the government, but that was three weeks ago, and I still don't have my passport back, and when I ask about it, they get angry at me.  Well, at least now they've paid me part of my salary (but not all that I was expecting) and they've offered to put a computer in my apartment, which will be great because then I can blog at home instead of at work (oh yeah, and I can do some work from home, too, like preparing for lessons and I also keep a different blog for my students).  So, things are shaping up today, I guess.  I hope.  If I also get my passport back this week, things are definitely shaping up a lot.  Here's to hoping!

It's BYOB-- Bring Your Own Balls!

As far as I know, Mongolia is a country at peace right now, so I don't understand why I see so many soldier-types on the streets.  I've come to the conclusion that maybe they're security guards and maybe the security guards in Mongolia look extra militaristic.  I don't know.  Anyway, this game of pool on the side of the road caught my eye.  The pool table is always there, but I've never really checked to see if the balls and cues are also always there.  Maybe it's a BYOB affair?

What Ulaanbaatar Looks Like

I like this photo.  I think it shows what Mongolia is like.  Capitalism, billboards for things most people here can't afford, an amusement park (I think the priorities might be a little backward for that one), and lots and lots of construction.  Actually, even though I think the money for the amusement park would have been better spent on other things in Mongolia (such as helping the poor, subsidized housing, improving standard of living, etc), it is a nice little park.  If it weren't so chilly outside, I just might go just for the heck of it one day.  I walk past it every week when I go to the black market (which ought to be another entire post).

On why I plan on spending a shit-ton of money in Mongolia

I love to shop.  It might be a problem.  It doesn't matter what I'm shopping for, as long as I'm shopping, I can get /really/ excited about it.  I even love grocery shopping-- it means I get to go out of the house and buy things.  In Mongolia, the obvious thing to shop for is wool products. 

I don't know much about cashmere and the other assorted wool products that come out of Mongolia (there's sheep wool, yak wool, camel hair-- what animal does cashmere even come from?  and what makes it just so soft and itch-free?), but when I peeked into factory which was described to me as 'abandoned', I saw piles and piles and piles of wool, and workers busy stuffing it into bags (the reason I peeked was because, as I was walking past, I was thinking that that abandoned factory smelled like a stockyard).  I can only assume that it will be shipped to another factory where it will be washed, spun, and dyed (or something-- I have a very vague notion of how wool and other threads are made).  Now, about Mongolian cashmere and the other wool products on offer here, I'm in love.  I want to buy three of everything, except for I'm earning a very modest slightly-better-than-average-but-modest-nonetheless Mongolian wage, and I just can't afford it (it doesn't help that I've got debt to pay off-- kind of like Shopaholic, but not quite so dense and selfish, I hope).  Well, there is the cashmere, and it is delicious.  My dad wears sweaters all year round, so I plan on getting him a nice sweater for Christmas.  There's also camel hair blankets, which are divine (I bought one for my younger brother for Christmas, and I'm seriously scared I'm going to end up keeping it, I love it so much).  There are yaks wool long underwear, which I'm constantly daydreaming about purchasing as soon as the temperature hits -15Celcius (I plan on staying warm this winter).  There are sheep wool blankets, which are a little scratchy, but which I think have good character (I bought a green one for my parents for Christmas.  This is another Christmas gift which I want to keep!).  I'm in love; I want it all.

On a side-note, the flies here are atrocious.  I think they're on a mission to drive me crazy.

Top Tens

Top ten reasons to Move to Ulaanbaatar:

1. UB is not that bad.  It has department stores, a cinema, an amusement park, a swimming pool (I think), a skating rink (in winter), and an opera theatre.  Not to mention, the price of eating out ina restaurant or having a beer with friends is really reasonable.
2. Opera or ballet tickets are under $10.
3. You enjoy a good steak.
4. You enjoy nature.
5. You like to camp/hike/trek/etc.
6. You're an expert horseback rider, or you'd like to learn.
7. You come from Siberia (or Alaska, or Northern Canada) and you think that only a wuss would call -30Celcius weather "cold".
8. The crafts and souvenirs here are hella cool.
9. You only wear cashmere sweaters.
10. You want to go someplace totally unlike any other country in Asia.
11. You enjoy the video game, "Frogger", and would like to play a real live version of Frogger in which you are the frog.

Top Ten reasons to Avoid Ulaanbaatar:

1. Pollution, Pollution, Pollution!
2. Poverty makes you uneasy.
3. You are a vegan.
4. You come froma  tropical climate and can't understand how people can function in -30Celcius weather.
5. You're a big city person or you just don't like small towns (UB has a population of 1 mil, but it has a very small town feel to it).
6. You simply must live in a city that has a subway.
7. You are afraid of trying to learn a language that sounds like this: "khshkgsligsrnmkhshhhhh".
8. You just can't take a cold shower, especially in winter.
9. You are terrified of being mugged or pickpocketed.
10. You don't like long and difficult journeys on roads that may or may not be paved.
11. While you enjoy the video game, "Frogger", you do not want to experience how the little frog feels every time you cross the road.

I adore graffiti.  I think good graffiti makes a good city even better!

Genghis Khan Graffiti!!

Buildings in Ulaanbaatar

When I was deciding to move to Mongolia, of course I promptly bought my Bible, Lonely Planet, and I was super excited to see some pictures of what the place actually looked like, but in fact, Lonely Planet only had pictures of the countryside and, while Mongolia's countryside looks beautiful and everything, I get tired of looking at even my own landscape pictures, let alone countless photographs of someone else's landscape pictures.  I tried looking up in the LP for a description of architecture in Mongolia, but there was not much there, maybe a few lines to say that many of the old monasteries had been destroyed during Stalin's purges and that the architecture here was "boring" (my interpretation, not LP's actual words).  One of the building was described as "salmon-pinkish", which, now that I've seen it, is indeed salmon pinkish in colour, but it's much more than that.  It's got big columns (Corinthian? Doric? Ionic?  I'll have to take a closer look next time) and big wooden doors, two big concrete lions, and I think it's a genuinely interesting building to look at, despite its unfortunate colour (there are at least three salmon pinkish buildings in Ulaanbaatar-- maybe they got a big discount on stucco that colour).  Other building features which have caught my eye are the mosaics you will see on the sides of some very old communist-era apartment buildings, like the one in this picture.

A Moron Whore

I developed a crush on Mongolia's national traditional instrument before I even knew what it looked like.  My older brother is a musician (did a two year jazz programme at a community college in Edmonton and got a degree in classical music from McGill), so I've got a little think about buying him cool, traditional instruments if I ever find something really unique in one of the countries I'm visiting.  He plays the double bass (contrabass, stand-up bass, whatever you want to call it), so I'm always on the lookout for interesting string instruments.  Naturally, when I read about the morin khuur, pronounced roughly like "moron whore" or "more in whore", but whichever way you choose to say it, you must pronounce the /h/ the way a Montrealais waitress would pronounce the /h/ on "eggs" when she asks you, "Ow do you like your hhhhhheggs?" (I'm not kidding-- I couldn't make this up!), I decided that I needed to buy one for my brother for Christmas (the porn is just an extra bonus).  So, when I arrived in UB, I went on a search for where I can buy really nice morin khuurs.  Lonely Planet (it's my bible and I have entire sections of it memorised) mentioned two stores where I could buy a morin khuur.  The first store I went to was astronomically expensive, about 200USD for their most simple, plain, unadorned morin khuur, plus an extra 200USD for a hardcase, but the man who works there sat down and started to play the morin khuur (my prospective morin khuur), and I was so taken, I nearly dropped the cash right then and there (which is amazing, because music doesn't usually move me like that).  I'm glad I didn't.  I went to the other music store LP listed, and I found that they had a much wider range of morin khuurs and, morin khuur importantly (if you think I'm punny, you should meet my dad), their morin khuurs were cheaper!  And so were their hardcases!  And I don't just mean cheaper by a bit.  Their morin khuurs are nicer, more ornate, and cheaper by quite a lot.  Also, in this music shop, I could hear someone practicing the morin khuur in one of the backrooms, so I asked the lady at the counter if they also gave lessons (good ol' LP only gives information about language, yoga, and meditation lessons, so I hadn't even considered learning how to play one of these horsey fiddles), and the lady said yes, they do.  I asked the price.  She told me it was 60,000 Tugrugs.  At first, I thought she meant 60,000 Tugrugs for one lesson.  I told her she was killing me.  Then we established that she meant 60,000 Tugrugs for eight lessons!  I told her I loved her.  I'm considering going back with my next paycheque and buying two morin khuurs, one for my bro for Christmas and one for me so I can learn how to play the damn thing, as well (out of me and my two brothers, I'm the only one who can't play an instrument).  Can't wait..

Bookstores (oh, and porn, too)

I like reading.  I like reading so much that I will often gobble down two or three novels or big books a week about anything, ranging from health, economics, science, psychology, travelogues, etc.  Naturally, one of the first things I did when I arrived in Ulaanbaatar was track down all of the bookstores listed in my Lonely Planet.  Let me just say that the selection of books here is even more dismal than LP made it out to be.  The first bookstore I visited ("Books in English"), had a disappointing, tiny selection of out-of-date magazines (like, I mean, from 1996!) and extremely used books that weren't even particularly interesting, anyway.  The next bookstore I visited was not much better, but that was actually okay because I still had two more bookstores to visit.  Librairie Papillon is listed as UB's finest bookstore, although most of the selection is in French.  That's actually okay, because I can read French.  It's my second language.  I was kind of looking forward to reading French books this winter and improving my French vocabulary and grammar from all the French I planned on reading.  But when I got to Librairie Papillon, I found that, while Lonly Planet was correct in asserting that this is possibly UB's greatest bookstore, the selection is still pretty abysmal.  Yes, there were books in French, but the selection was not as great as what Lonely Planet made it out to be.  The wall of German books looked about as interesting as the French selection (actually, possibly even more interesting-- but that might be only because I couldn't understand half of the titles in the German section).  There was also a backroom full of cheap classics in English (you all know the kind-- they've got navy blue covers and they cot about 5-10bucks, but if you can help it, you probably usually buy a nicer-looking edition from a different publisher with slightly bigger, more reader-friendly fonts).  Let me say, I was disappointed with this one as well.  There was one final bookstore to check out, Xanadu.  LP said that this one had a small selection, and that it also carried a small selection of LP titles.  When I arrived, I found that Xanadu does, in fact, carry a selection of LP titles, but they're mostly all out-of-date (by one or two editions!), and if you're interested in reading anything other than travel guides, if you're shopping at Xanadu, you'd better be /really/ interested in books about Mongolian history and culture, cause that's all there is!!  Thank god (lower-case /g/, intentional) my younger brother bought me a Sony bookreader for Christmas-- I guess I'll finally be making use of that.  And I miss my old bookstore that I used to frequent in Seoul-- What the Book-- I used to go there just to breathe in the smell of books and look at all the knowledge and stories I have yet to read!

I did find one other bookstore in Ulaanbaatar, although it wasn't listed in the Lonely Planet.  I don't really understand why it isn't listed, because it's a hella cool bookstore.  It's called the "Mega Hi-Fi Store" or, alternatively, "The Original Bookstore" and it's on Seoul Street.  This store has a better selection of books, although they're entirely in Mongolian.  Actually, they do have a small selection of guidebooks (you know the kind that are full of glossy, colour pictures and 3D-type maps that are really pretty to look at, but not terribly practical to actually bring traveling with you), but they were not Lonely Planets (this, I suspect, is why this bookstore is not listed in the LP).  It also carries a few copies of Time and Newsweek (although, the last time I went there, I noticed that at the top of the Times, there was printed "Subscriber Copy-- not for resale"), but what I found much more interesting was the Mongolian porn.  I'm not a pervert or anything, but I had to stop to take a photo of the Mongolian porn.  Then, I had to flip through, and I found some totally awesome porn cartoons (like what you would find in the newspaper, but, you know, porn).  Then, I sucked it up and bought a couple of copies to send to my bro for Christmas.  It was kind of awkward, because it was very male-oriented porn, and I'm definitely a woman, and I didn't explain that it was for my brother because I didn't think the girl would understand me or believe me, and anyway, buying porn for your brother in kind of creepy in its own right.  I only bought two magazines and each magazine is worth 2500 Tugrugs, which is about $1.95 in Canadian money!

Diets abroad

This picture kills me.  I'm on a diet.  I actually, often, just for the hell of it, put myself on crazy diets.  By "crazy", I mean that for one month at a time, I will not allow myself to eat any meat or sugar (well, I don't restrict all sugar-- just candy and stuff that is obviously going to make you fat-- I'm allowed to eat an apple, for example).  I do this to myself from time to time because, about three years ago, I got monstrously fat.  I'd say that it all started when I was living in France as a fille au-pair.  The family I lived with didn't think I ate enough, and kept pressuring me to eat more.  They told me that their last au-pair had lost weight when she was with them, and they didn't want that to happen with another au-pair, so every mealtime, the refrain was, "Eat, eat!"  I tried explaining to them that if I ate as much as they wanted me to eat, I would get monstrously fat, but they kept insisting, so, eventually, I started relenting.  And so began my love affair with French chocolate, Swiss chocolate, baguettes, Nutella (nutella spread on a baguette, orange slices dipped in nutell, nutella by itself on a spoon, etc), red wine, cheese (comte, yum! cancaillotte, an acquired taste, but I lapped it up), olive oil, pasta, white cheese (it has the consistency of yogurt), plain yogurt, rhubarb jam (Bonne Maman is the best brand), creme de marrons... you get the drift.  To make matters worse, we lived in the country-side, so it got kind of boring, so all I really ever did was eat and watch TV!

By the time I left France five months later, I had gained about 25 pounds, and none of my clothes fit me.  I figured, "This isn't that bad-- I'm moving to Kuwait next month, and I'm sure I'll take all this weight off when I live in the Middle East what with all that constant heat."  Ha!  The Middle East /is/ hot, but they LIKE fat women there.  Furthermore, they LOVE sugar.  I once watched a private student of mine put fourteen teaspoonfuls of sugar into his tea.  Also, it was too hot/crowded/dangerous (traffic-wise) to go outside for a run or for any kind of exercise.  And my job was really stressful, as well, so I turned to good old food for comfort.  I refined my cake, cookie, and cupcake-making skills and I learned how to make home-made ice cream.  There were days when, instead of cooking dinner, I'd bake something sweet.  And then I'd eat most of it!

By the time I returned home to Canada for my older brother's wedding, I was up another 35 pounds.  And I had to be in the wedding!  I just felt like an ugly cow.  After the wedding, I had been hoping to find another job abroad and leave Canada again pretty quickly, but it didn't work that way.  With the economy the way it is (and it was even worse back then), ESL jobs abroad were starting to be fewer and further between, and much more difficult to get.  So, I was stuck staying at my parents' house in Canada.  Don't get me wrong-- I love my parents, but I was 27, fat, unemployed, and living with my parents.  I was miserable, and I turned to my good old friend, food.  Then, I decided, I'll move back to Korea.  Koreans don't like fat.  In fact, I think they fear it.  And I like Korean food.  A lot!  But that's okay, because Korean food is all rice and vegetables.  It won't make you fat.  It will have you ship-shape in no time.  In fact, the last time I lived in Korea, I lost weight, and I didn't even think I had any weight to lose last time around, so this time, I figured it would go the same way.

So, I got a job and returned to Seoul, where my new employers and coworkers were understandably horrified by the whale they met at the airport (actually, they didn't meet me at the airport-- they made me take an airport bus by myself with all my luggage into the centre of Seoul instead of them coming to meet me-- pretty rude, but it's all in the past).  Anyway, my first month in Seoul, I was pretty broke, so I actually /couldn't/ afford to buy any sweets or fatty foods, and I did start losing some weight.  After about a month, my "fat pants" were starting to feel looser on me, but my regular pants (the ones I had worn when I was thin, which I longed to wear again) still didn't come up past my knees.  I had a hard time understanding how I had ever fit into them.  I mean, they even looked small to me.  I couldn't believe that I had ever been that small.  I convinced myself that maybe I had shrunk them by accident, but I still made it my goal to fit back into them.  After another month, I could fit back into one of my pairs of regular pants (albeit, they were very tight).  After another month, I fit back into another pair of my regular pants.  Then, I hit a weight-loss plateau.  So I bought some running shoes and started running four to six times a week.  At first, I jiggled when I ran, and it embarrassed me, but I forced myself to keep going.  After a month of that, I was feeling much better, but not losing any more weight.  So I looked up various fad diets on the internet.  Now, I know a fad diet doesn't generally work, but I was reading about cleanse diets, and I realised something about cleanse diets: even after taking all those yucky herbs, you have to seriously restrict your food intake and limit the types of food you can eat while you are doing the cleanse.  For example, pretty much the only meat that is allowed is fish, you can only have certain vegetables, and you can't eat any sugar.  I got to thinking, "Hmmm... I bet a person would still lose quite a lot of weight even if they only followed that strict diet and didn't take any of that yucky herbal stuff."  So, I put myself on a diet in which I wasn't allowed to eat any meat or sugar.  I made it last one month.  After one month of a very strict diet and running four to six days I week, I had lost 4kilos (almost 9 pounds-- in Korea, you weigh yourself in kilos).  I took a week off and let myself eat whatever I wanted to eat, and then I did another strict month because I wanted to look hot for my birthday.  After that, Seoul was too hot to even consider not eating sugar, and I lived on ice cream for pretty much the duration of the summer.  I think it was the heat, though, because somehow I managed to still lose more weight, and at the end of the summer, I found that I fit back into two of my pants that I only fit into when I was very slim.

I still have pants that I used to fit that I can't get into anymore, though, and I've hit another weight-loss plateau, so I've decided to do another month of no meat and no sugar.  So, when I walk around town and I see all that candy, it kills me, because I'm only four days into my newest no meat no sugar month, and I just want something sweet!  I'm gonna cut up a melon tonight!  Also, in Mongolia, you are supposed to eat meat three times a day, every day.  It seems like if you don't, you're some kind of heathen or something.  So my boss comes up to me this morning and says, "We noticed that you don't eat in the cafeteria."  I said, "Yes, I explained to you that I really don't eat much meat at all and the cafeteria only serves meat."  She said, "They can make a vegetable thing just for you."  I said, "That's nice, but I only get twenty minutes for lunch, and I would prefer to spend that time working."  She said, "All the other teachers also only get twenty minutes for lunch."  I said, "I'm not asking for a longer lunch-break, I'm just saying that it's my lunch break, so it ought to be up to me how I spend that time, and if I choose to spend that time working (instead of eating meat I dislike)*, I think that's okay."  The conversation ended shortly after that.  I'm not sure how much I'm fitting in here...

*bracketed quote was not actually said (but I wanted to say it).

Fruit and Candy Stand on Peace Ave in downtown Ulaanbaatar

The Story

A lot of people, upon hearing that I moved to Mongolia, responded with "Mongolia!?  Wow!  Why Mongolia?"  Well, basically, it was a lottery.  I was very sick and tired of all the bullshit in Korea, and I desperately wanted out of there.  So, I went to the nearest PC Bang (internet cafe/world of warcraft den), looked through Dave's ESL Cafe and eslteachersboard.com and a few others, blanketed the ESL industry with my resume (as long as the school wasn't in Korea), and I sat back and waited.  I had decided that the first place that offered me a job would be the place where I would move.  So, a few days later, I got an email from a school in Mongolia that said simply, "Okay, we like your resume.  We'd like to hire you."  So I started preparing my visa for Mongolia and I started packing, and that was that.

Was this a poor decision?  In some ways, yes, in other ways, no.  Mongolia, itself is really nice.  I actually really like Ulaanbaatar, and all of the people here.  It's pretty cheap to live here (well, as long as you're not too free and easy with your lifestyle).  I think it's going to be really fun to live here (even if the winter is going to be fucking cold).  That's the good.  The bad: it's only October, and it's already pretty chilly.  That, in and of itself, is not that bad (I'm Canadian, after all-- I'm used to chilly weather).  What's bad is that I'm lucky if I have hot water once every three days.  In the past week, I've taken exactly two showers, and both of them were cold.  I'm usually a showers-every-day type of person.  The reason why I've only had two showers in the past week is because every time I turn on the water in my bathroom, hoping to take a shower, the only thing that comes out is cold water.  Since it's chilly outside, and since my place is not heated, I just can't bring myself to step into a freezing fucking shower (when I was backpacking in SouthEastAsia, I took cold showers almost every day, but that's because the guesthouses that only had cold showers were cheaper and it's a WARM climate-- even if the water is cold, at least all the air around you is warm).  So, in the past week, I've stood shivering in my very cold bathroom almost every day, holding my hand under a stream of cold water, trying to decide if the freezing cold water on a freezing cold air backdrop was worth it, and the only two times I came to the conclusion that it was worth it was when I was so filthy I could actually smell myself.

But that's not the worst of it.  The worst is actually a situation at work.  I should preface this with the following: in general, I like my students.  I also think that my coworkers are pretty nice.  But, when I was hired, I asked if there would be books and resources for me to use at school once I arrived in Mongolia.  The answer was a resounding YES!  So, imagine my surprise when, on my first day here, I sat down with my principal and my co-teacher and they explained to me that my co-teacher and I would share the book that we would use to teach the students.  I thought that was fine.  That's generally how it's done in Korea, as well.  Then, they explained to me that actually, just my co-teacher would use the book to teach the students; I could LOOK at the book to see what topic she was currently teaching and prepare my lessons totally from scratch based on a stupid, measly topic.  I just started laughing at them.  I said, "No, it's not going to work that way.  I teach 30 classes a week, my co-teacher teaches half that amount, so if anyone should have to create their own lessons for every single lesson, it should be the teacher who has fewer classes."  They said, "Fine, we'll find a different book for your co-teacher to use, and you can use this one for the older classes."  Wha??  You can find a different book for my co-teacher to use, but you couldn't have found a book for me to use?  Something smells funny.  Then, they tell me, "But for the younger classes, you really do need to make up your own lessons each time."  I say, "That's fine, just as long as I'm able to print off worksheets for the kids, I can handle making up my own lessons for very young children."  SO... today, I finally get all my shit together to print off a bunch of stuff for my classes, and they lead me to a room with a printer connected to a computer that DOESN'T WORK!!!  I say, this isn't working.  At first, they treat me like I'm a computer illiterate retard, until they realise they can't get the fuckin' thing to work, either.  Then they lead me to a different room with a different computer, and they won't even let me use that one because, according to their demented perceptions of the situation, I just don't know how to use a computer.  But, as it turns out, even on this computer, it will only print the first page of each document.  Ummm, I need all my work, thanks, not just a fifth of it.  So now, I'm hyperventilating and considering refusing to go in to teach the younger classes since the school gave me no resources and no access to print or make my own resources.   Yeah, I'm kind of livid right now.

Anyway, here's a picture of a newspaper stand I saw on Peace Ave the other week.  I might walk down there as soon as I log off.  I need a long walk to clear my mind and calm myself down.  Arrrrgh!

Newspaper Stand on Peace Avenue in Ulaanbaatar

Gandan Khiid #2

Here's another photo I took at Ghandin Khiid last weekend.  There are plenty of people selling bird feed for a few cents, and just as many people willing to buy it to feed the pigeons.  I generally try to give pigeons a wide, berth, myself!

Pigeons and People

Gandan Khiid Monastery

I usually try to get as few people in my photos as possible, but there were so many people at Ghandin Khiid last weekend, that I just sucked it up and shot a few photos with people and everything in it.  I kind of like the way this one turned out, with all the people leaving and the pigeons up in the air.  It seems full of life.

Pigeons and People at Ghandin Khiid in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia