Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sunday, August 1, 2010
bienvenidos a panama
This was seriously the worst border crossing ever. The 15 hour bus was freezing and actually took 18 hours. The border official wouldn't let me in unless I had a return ticket. I was forced to buy a bogus ticket from the slimy Ticabus guy who stood smirking next to the immigration window with a stack of bills.
But I am finally here. It only took 18 days.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
pacific fishing dreams
another split second decision landed me in Tarcoles... an artisanal fishing village with an awesome cooperative that promotes ecotourism and sustainability. the highlight was a traditional fishing demonstration with Danilo the silly fisherman.
the fish was good. the people were good.
but this is my last detour. full steam ahead to Panamá.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Lazy Granada Days
Was deciding whether to stay a night in Managua when the sudden downpour forced me onto the bus.
MASAYAMASAYAMASAYAGRANADAGRANADAGRANADA screamed the bus guy. Beads of sweat flying in all directions from his body. Chill, dude. Then the bus driver got ticketed by the police for having too many people on the bus.
Granada and its faded façades called to me in a old hoarse voice that begged me to remember its long gone glory days, as if I had visited once a hundred years ago. It was tired. And I was tired.
But came midnight and I found myself dancing to deafening hiphop in an almost abandoned nightclub by the lake. And new friends.
So I decided to stay an extra day.
We couldn't find the choo choo train, but i got my laundry done and we played ping pong and drank iced coffees, my first ice coffee that didn't draw a disgusted and perplexed stare from the waitress.
At the end of the lazy afternoon, I looked out at the street from the coffee shop and finally remembered the glory days of Granada.
MASAYAMASAYAMASAYAGRANADAGRANADAGRANADA screamed the bus guy. Beads of sweat flying in all directions from his body. Chill, dude. Then the bus driver got ticketed by the police for having too many people on the bus.
Granada and its faded façades called to me in a old hoarse voice that begged me to remember its long gone glory days, as if I had visited once a hundred years ago. It was tired. And I was tired.
But came midnight and I found myself dancing to deafening hiphop in an almost abandoned nightclub by the lake. And new friends.
So I decided to stay an extra day.
We couldn't find the choo choo train, but i got my laundry done and we played ping pong and drank iced coffees, my first ice coffee that didn't draw a disgusted and perplexed stare from the waitress.
At the end of the lazy afternoon, I looked out at the street from the coffee shop and finally remembered the glory days of Granada.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
capitals
guatemala city is boring dangerous
tegucigalpa is fascinating dangerous
managua is just... boring
wonder what the next two capitals will bring
Friday, July 23, 2010
backroads of honduras, and a nice mountain town
15 buses and 2 pickup trucks, and the rarely visited Honduran backroads...
Left sweet but touristy Copán Ruinas in the early morn, but long after the other occupants in my room left to catch their respective even earlier buses.
Santa Rosa de Copan was boring, and my money ran out in Gracias which was sin ATM. Gracias, Gracias. Quiere go to THANK YOU? the kid on the bus asked me.
The guy at the bank pointed at the photo on my passport and pointed at my face. Oh god, here we go again. El foto hace diez años, sir. Yes, I was young and blonde once. Grabbed my money and hopped on first truck I saw to the next town.
I was probably the first tourist in San Manuel de Colohete for a long time. The locals were extremely friendly and welcoming... so I stopped and rested and smiled.
Left sweet but touristy Copán Ruinas in the early morn, but long after the other occupants in my room left to catch their respective even earlier buses.
Santa Rosa de Copan was boring, and my money ran out in Gracias which was sin ATM. Gracias, Gracias. Quiere go to THANK YOU? the kid on the bus asked me.
The guy at the bank pointed at the photo on my passport and pointed at my face. Oh god, here we go again. El foto hace diez años, sir. Yes, I was young and blonde once. Grabbed my money and hopped on first truck I saw to the next town.
I was probably the first tourist in San Manuel de Colohete for a long time. The locals were extremely friendly and welcoming... so I stopped and rested and smiled.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Es Paraiso
"Es paraiso," said Edgar, our driver, in such a peaceful, content tone that made me forget that Guatemala is one of the most dangerous countries in Central America.
And it sure was paraiso. And you can buy a cave here. With or without bats.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Volcan Pacaya and the existence of god
Staring out to the other three volcanos in the distance near the top of Volcan Pacaya.
"This makes me believe in the existence of god," Pinar said.
...and I agreed.
Pacaya had just erupted a month earlier...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Relaxing Shabbat day off in Mongolia
It was Gab and Delphine's last day. They headed back to Irtkusk around 7:00 p.m. I don't think I'd talked to them much before today, but that instant connection while traveling thing is really bizarre. They're probably among the most relaxed people I know, and always radiating positive energy.
I woke up around 10, and it was extremely cold outside. I was contemplating whether to go to work when Alex came in and grabbed me to drink coffee with Gab and Delphine at Café Amsterdam. Having heard it to be a complete tourist rip-off, I'd never ventured inside despite walking past everyday.
Located on the main drag on Peace Avenue, the café is a pretty standard Western-style coffee shop with pastries, sandwiches and English newspapers . The prices were rather outrageous, but we had not had real coffee in a while. We sat outside for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and sipping $3300 togrog lattes as if we were somewhere in Europe, except that every once in a while a random bum would walk by and try to sell us watercolor paintings of yurts and sheep.
I left early to go to my language exchange with Ganbold. I learned that in such a meat-eating culture in a land deprived of vegetables, vegetarian food is called "tsagaan khool" - literally "white food." I left early to meet Aki to finally visit the elusive vegetarian Cafe Ananda.
I was late, and Alex came to pick me up in front of of the Ataturk statue. It was probably my best meal in Ulaanbaatar so far. What made it better was that all the earnings go directly the Lotus Orphanage. We ate in a circle in a very Buddhist style round room with orange walls and brightly colored cushions and low tables.
I ate things I had not seen for a long time - tofu, spinach, and corn. Happy and satisfied, we all lay down in the room for a long time and did not want to go back into the cold. They commented that I was very "peaceful." That's one thing I like about Europeans - they don't see not being talkative as a bad thing.
A few hours later, Alex's khuushuur addiction started acting up again. I have to say, it is one of my favorite Mongolian foods. It's basically a fried, large half-circle shaped dumpling with mutton inside. We went into a store that had a big sign saying khuushuur on the outside, but the waitress said "bakhgui" - don't have it - probably the most common phrase you will hear when you visit a restaurant in Mongolia. Expect them to actually have about half the items on the menu.
We finally did find some before Alex lost his mind.
When we got back to the Golden Gobi, it was a pleasant surprise to see that Ariel and Adi, both from Israel, were preparing Israeli food for Shabbat. I never thought I'd experience my first Shabbat in Mongolia of all places. While we waited, Bob brought out his customary farewell vodka for Gab and Delphine and we all had a few shots and hugged good-bye.
Then the Israelis brought out two pots of Shakshukah - a steamed egg and tomato-sauce dish with mushrooms and onions, one with cheese and one vegan. They recited from the Torah, and broke the loaf of bread, handing everyone a piece. Then we dug in, while the vodka kept coming around and around and around. It was a very, very good day.
I woke up around 10, and it was extremely cold outside. I was contemplating whether to go to work when Alex came in and grabbed me to drink coffee with Gab and Delphine at Café Amsterdam. Having heard it to be a complete tourist rip-off, I'd never ventured inside despite walking past everyday.
Located on the main drag on Peace Avenue, the café is a pretty standard Western-style coffee shop with pastries, sandwiches and English newspapers . The prices were rather outrageous, but we had not had real coffee in a while. We sat outside for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and sipping $3300 togrog lattes as if we were somewhere in Europe, except that every once in a while a random bum would walk by and try to sell us watercolor paintings of yurts and sheep.
I left early to go to my language exchange with Ganbold. I learned that in such a meat-eating culture in a land deprived of vegetables, vegetarian food is called "tsagaan khool" - literally "white food." I left early to meet Aki to finally visit the elusive vegetarian Cafe Ananda.
I was late, and Alex came to pick me up in front of of the Ataturk statue. It was probably my best meal in Ulaanbaatar so far. What made it better was that all the earnings go directly the Lotus Orphanage. We ate in a circle in a very Buddhist style round room with orange walls and brightly colored cushions and low tables.
I ate things I had not seen for a long time - tofu, spinach, and corn. Happy and satisfied, we all lay down in the room for a long time and did not want to go back into the cold. They commented that I was very "peaceful." That's one thing I like about Europeans - they don't see not being talkative as a bad thing.
A few hours later, Alex's khuushuur addiction started acting up again. I have to say, it is one of my favorite Mongolian foods. It's basically a fried, large half-circle shaped dumpling with mutton inside. We went into a store that had a big sign saying khuushuur on the outside, but the waitress said "bakhgui" - don't have it - probably the most common phrase you will hear when you visit a restaurant in Mongolia. Expect them to actually have about half the items on the menu.
We finally did find some before Alex lost his mind.
When we got back to the Golden Gobi, it was a pleasant surprise to see that Ariel and Adi, both from Israel, were preparing Israeli food for Shabbat. I never thought I'd experience my first Shabbat in Mongolia of all places. While we waited, Bob brought out his customary farewell vodka for Gab and Delphine and we all had a few shots and hugged good-bye.
Then the Israelis brought out two pots of Shakshukah - a steamed egg and tomato-sauce dish with mushrooms and onions, one with cheese and one vegan. They recited from the Torah, and broke the loaf of bread, handing everyone a piece. Then we dug in, while the vodka kept coming around and around and around. It was a very, very good day.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Mongolian food word-loans
When eating at Mongolian restaurants, the appetizers can be confusing to a Chinese-speaker because the food names are incorrectly borrowed.
The word buuz (Mongolian dumpling), is borrowed from Chinese baozi, which is a meat bun. The Mongolian word for baozi is makh mantuu, which is borrowed from the Chinese mantou - which is a steamed white bun with no meat in it. Then the Mongolians have the regular mantuu, which actually does correspond to the Chinese mantou. Sounds confusing? I made a chart below to explain.
This is because prior to the Song Dynasty in China, mantou was used to describe both filled and unfilled buns, and other cultures borrowed the word before that. The Mongolians probably took up the word baozi as dumpling after they conquered the Song Dynasty in the 1200s. To make matters even more complicated, in Korean, mandu is acually a dumpling.
As a non-agricultural country, most of the words for vegetables are also borrowed from Chinese - Green peppers are chinjuu in Mongolian and chinjiao in Chinese. Carrots - lovan and luobo. Onions - songon and tsong.
On a side note, (well, because Kyushu Japanese people eat horses, so it's appropriate to include this here) the Chinese word for horse is ma, and is probably borrowed from the Mongolian muur, becuase the nomads had horses first. Then the Japanese borrowed it from Chinese, and they call horses uma.
The word buuz (Mongolian dumpling), is borrowed from Chinese baozi, which is a meat bun. The Mongolian word for baozi is makh mantuu, which is borrowed from the Chinese mantou - which is a steamed white bun with no meat in it. Then the Mongolians have the regular mantuu, which actually does correspond to the Chinese mantou. Sounds confusing? I made a chart below to explain.
This is because prior to the Song Dynasty in China, mantou was used to describe both filled and unfilled buns, and other cultures borrowed the word before that. The Mongolians probably took up the word baozi as dumpling after they conquered the Song Dynasty in the 1200s. To make matters even more complicated, in Korean, mandu is acually a dumpling.
As a non-agricultural country, most of the words for vegetables are also borrowed from Chinese - Green peppers are chinjuu in Mongolian and chinjiao in Chinese. Carrots - lovan and luobo. Onions - songon and tsong.
On a side note, (well, because Kyushu Japanese people eat horses, so it's appropriate to include this here) the Chinese word for horse is ma, and is probably borrowed from the Mongolian muur, becuase the nomads had horses first. Then the Japanese borrowed it from Chinese, and they call horses uma.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Mongolian Wrestling
It was another freezing day in Ulaanbaatar. I went to the orphanage and left early, because of the big event of the week - Mongolian Wrestling!
Mongolian wrestling, called "bokh" in Mongolian, is one of the historic "three manly skills", which include Archery and Horseriding. The Wrestling Palace downtown holds wrestling matches every weekend.
The format of the competition is a bracket system, where many pairs of wrestlers square off in the large arena simultaneously, and the losers are eliminated while the winners then fight other winners.
Since I was told that these things can go on for 6 or more hours, I didn't arrive until about 3 hours into the competition. By that time, four pairs were left.
It's kind of like sumo wrestling, but the wrestlers are mostly not that immensely fat. The objective of the match is to get the opponent's upper body, knee or elbow to touch the ground. There are no weight classes, and one of the pairs we saw had a great size disparity.
When they enter or exit the stage they perform a falcon dance - running with their arms stretched out slightly backwards, like a falcon taking off.
We were the only non-Mongolian people in the crowd. It was hard to understand what was going on, since it's a very subtle sport. Often times, the crowd would erupt into loud cheering while we didn't even notice that anything had happened.
They also had a raffle - prize money would be given to a lucky ticket holder according to ticket number. While a friendly Mongolian man behind us translated for us, I found myself being able to understand most of the numbers being announced!
Two more hours passed, and we were getting bored. Joanna started a betting game, and we each chose a person to win the tournament. She won the bet, and she used her winnings to buy us beer after the match finally ended, well into the 6th hour.
Mongolian wrestling, called "bokh" in Mongolian, is one of the historic "three manly skills", which include Archery and Horseriding. The Wrestling Palace downtown holds wrestling matches every weekend.
The format of the competition is a bracket system, where many pairs of wrestlers square off in the large arena simultaneously, and the losers are eliminated while the winners then fight other winners.
Since I was told that these things can go on for 6 or more hours, I didn't arrive until about 3 hours into the competition. By that time, four pairs were left.
It's kind of like sumo wrestling, but the wrestlers are mostly not that immensely fat. The objective of the match is to get the opponent's upper body, knee or elbow to touch the ground. There are no weight classes, and one of the pairs we saw had a great size disparity.
When they enter or exit the stage they perform a falcon dance - running with their arms stretched out slightly backwards, like a falcon taking off.
We were the only non-Mongolian people in the crowd. It was hard to understand what was going on, since it's a very subtle sport. Often times, the crowd would erupt into loud cheering while we didn't even notice that anything had happened.
They also had a raffle - prize money would be given to a lucky ticket holder according to ticket number. While a friendly Mongolian man behind us translated for us, I found myself being able to understand most of the numbers being announced!
Two more hours passed, and we were getting bored. Joanna started a betting game, and we each chose a person to win the tournament. She won the bet, and she used her winnings to buy us beer after the match finally ended, well into the 6th hour.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Troubles at the orphanage
I arrived at the orphanage to discover that Umesh, an older kid who I entrusted the supply closet key to, was sent to the hospital. I tried to find a staff member to find out what happened, but for the 4th day in a row, nobody was around.
So I had no way to conduct my class again.
They say that this is how things work here, it's part of the culture, but I don't live here. I could be traveling somewhere else. It was my choice to stay and help these kids, but I'm not getting the support I need.
Then things started to get out of control. The first thing some kids did when they saw me was to drag me into a store and ask me to buy them candy. When I said no, and one of the kids pulled out a huge wad of bills from his pocket - where did he get the money from? Then they got very upset and refused to talk to me for the rest of the day.
I played basketball with some of them for a while, then I decided that at least I could have them make the eyes for the masks. That was my first mistake - thinking that I could handle them without a Mongolian speaking teacher. Then they went out of control, running all over the place, looting the supply room and eventually destroying each other's masks. At that point, I promptly ended the class and left.
I guess it was a good learning experience, and I really shouldn't be getting upset at kids – I was exactly the same when I was little – and think of the lives these kids have had. After calming down, I realized that it's not about what I want to do or what goals I want to acheive, but it's whether the kids have a good time or not. So the masks got destroyed, but at least they got to do something different and express their creativity instead of sitting in their ger watching TV or roaming the streets. I'm going to adjust my mindset and go back tomorrow with a different method and direction of doing things. One thing for sure - I will make sure a Mongolian speaking teacher is present when I have my class (if I'm able to have it at all.)
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Mongolian Memories of Bob Marley
Went with Joanna in the morning to language exchange with the artist Ganbold. I learned how to say one of the most important phrases for foreigners living in Mongolia: "Bi arikh dolguui - I don't like vodka." Even if you do like vodka - and I actually do - you don't want to end up in a nightly drinking contest with random neighbors and your host.
In the afternoon, I led a troupe of 5 - me, Joanna, Ariel, Morgan and Julie to the orphanage. As half-expected, no staff was there again and we had no access to the supply room. So everyone just played with the kids for a couple hours. The kids are so friendly and you can tell they need so much affection. I had to stop letting them use my camera this time when one kid discovered the delete button. Then we played soccer on this immense green field with the power plant and Ulaanbaatar's skyline far in the background. It felt like another world - every now and then a horseman would ride by with his herd of cattle.
Afterwards we went back to the Golden Gobi and beered up for the big event of the night - the "Memories of Bob Marley" party, and almost everyone from the hostel went. We were disappointed at first to hear that there wouldn't be live music, but what we saw was not short of spectacular - DJs spinning Bob Marley music, and an MC singing and rapping in Mongolian! Then the Mongolian reggae dudes made a speech in English about being all together and one love, and all of us, from a million miles away in each direction, danced to the power of Bob Marley in a strange city. After too many beers, we went back and passed out feeling like we owned the world.
In the afternoon, I led a troupe of 5 - me, Joanna, Ariel, Morgan and Julie to the orphanage. As half-expected, no staff was there again and we had no access to the supply room. So everyone just played with the kids for a couple hours. The kids are so friendly and you can tell they need so much affection. I had to stop letting them use my camera this time when one kid discovered the delete button. Then we played soccer on this immense green field with the power plant and Ulaanbaatar's skyline far in the background. It felt like another world - every now and then a horseman would ride by with his herd of cattle.
Afterwards we went back to the Golden Gobi and beered up for the big event of the night - the "Memories of Bob Marley" party, and almost everyone from the hostel went. We were disappointed at first to hear that there wouldn't be live music, but what we saw was not short of spectacular - DJs spinning Bob Marley music, and an MC singing and rapping in Mongolian! Then the Mongolian reggae dudes made a speech in English about being all together and one love, and all of us, from a million miles away in each direction, danced to the power of Bob Marley in a strange city. After too many beers, we went back and passed out feeling like we owned the world.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A great day in Mongolia
Today has been probably one of the best days in my life. After visiting the pathetic Shamanistic Center of Eternal Sophistication, we started playing basketball and soccer with the kids outside the hostel. I could finally feel my energy levels returning, and after a while I wasn't feeling tired at all!
Later on, I met with Joanna and we went to the orphanage. Sutaba wasn't there, so we had no access to the art supply storage. Joanna saved the day by suggesting that we just have the kids draw designs for their masks. We taught them how to write what color each part would be in English, and everyone came up with pretty interesting masks - mostly humanoid aliens.
We finished the class early, and headed to the basketball court. Some kids took my camera, and started taking pictures - they took a total of 280 pictures! In the end, they got pretty good, and some of the shots were pretty artistic. (I'll have an album just with kid's shots.)
Finally we wrapped up and went home, feeling better than I'd ever had. Although I was exhausted, I finally felt that I contributed to humanity - and had a blast doing it. I didn't have that unsatisfied feeling after a day at the office, feeling that I needed to do more. I truly felt that I deserved to relax, and have a couple beers. So we did.
Later on, I met with Joanna and we went to the orphanage. Sutaba wasn't there, so we had no access to the art supply storage. Joanna saved the day by suggesting that we just have the kids draw designs for their masks. We taught them how to write what color each part would be in English, and everyone came up with pretty interesting masks - mostly humanoid aliens.
We finished the class early, and headed to the basketball court. Some kids took my camera, and started taking pictures - they took a total of 280 pictures! In the end, they got pretty good, and some of the shots were pretty artistic. (I'll have an album just with kid's shots.)
Finally we wrapped up and went home, feeling better than I'd ever had. Although I was exhausted, I finally felt that I contributed to humanity - and had a blast doing it. I didn't have that unsatisfied feeling after a day at the office, feeling that I needed to do more. I truly felt that I deserved to relax, and have a couple beers. So we did.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
All of a sudden I miss everyone
Woke up for the 3rd day in a row not knowing where I was. I looked outside and it was snowing. I remembered how cold it was before I left, and for a while I still couldn't figure out where I was.
Having being used to rushing from place to place, I found a different pattern in my travels this time. I finally learned how to connect to human beings, and how to be attached and form deeper connections with places and people. I could travel around the world in 80 days just ploughing forward like a raging bull. But that's pointless.
Since leaving Brooklyn, which somehow became the longest place I've stayed in, I've been looking for a constant in each unfamiliar surrounding. Drifting from environment to environment all my life, somewhere along the way I lost all ability to form bonds. Which is why I stayed in New York for so long, despite the constant urge to pack up and leave. I swore not to go anywhere until I fixed my soul, because I've seen so much yet experienced so little.
And somehow through this, Brooklyn became the first "home" I'd ever had. I knew more about it than my so called "hometowns" of Taipei or Boulder, and I formed the deepest connections I've ever had in my life.
Then I left. Not just for a short break, but possibly for good. And I don't think that realization ever sank in. I sat down to write a few emails, and I began to suspect that the reason I don't keep direct regular contact with people is that I just start getting all fucking sentimental. But it hit me anyways. All of a sudden, I miss everyone.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Settling down in Ulaanbaatar
On my last night at Khonggor, I was having a beer and cooking curry in the lounge. Two women walked in and asked me if there were any cool bars around. They told me that the hostel guy told them NOT to go out at night.
So, we went anyways. Joanna is from England and is on the way home after teaching English in Korea, and Elvan is heading home to France after working in Malaysia. We partied together for the next few days. One night, we were the only patrons at this oddly futuristic dance club. We asked if there was any live music, and the owner actually called the house band to play just for us! Our private concert lasted 3 songs and they suddenly packed up and disappeared.
This was, of course, way before I knew about the dangers of Mongolian Vodka.
One morning Joanna, Elvan and I had our (very expensive for Mongolian standards) hungover breakfast at the Irish Pub, and wandered around the city.
We saw this strange, Roman looking building with a Lenin statue in front of it, and decided to take a look. We entered a dimly lit renaissance style lobby and a middle-aged Mongolian lady who spoke excellent English asked if we wanted a tour.
Turns out it's the Children's Art Center, which is a government sponsored art program for kids. The lady who gave us the tour, Bulganna, told us she used to travel the world giving lectures on Mongolian history. She gave us one for free right on the spot.
We met one of the artists, Ganbold. He does Picasso-style paintings with Mongolian themes. Bulganna mentioned that he wanted to learn English, and I volunteered to help in exchange for him to teach me Mongolian.
So through a series of pure chance encounters, I was all set in this strange town. In less than two weeks of moving here, I now have two more-or-less regular jobs, a language exchange, and a set of new friends.
So, we went anyways. Joanna is from England and is on the way home after teaching English in Korea, and Elvan is heading home to France after working in Malaysia. We partied together for the next few days. One night, we were the only patrons at this oddly futuristic dance club. We asked if there was any live music, and the owner actually called the house band to play just for us! Our private concert lasted 3 songs and they suddenly packed up and disappeared.
This was, of course, way before I knew about the dangers of Mongolian Vodka.
One morning Joanna, Elvan and I had our (very expensive for Mongolian standards) hungover breakfast at the Irish Pub, and wandered around the city.
We saw this strange, Roman looking building with a Lenin statue in front of it, and decided to take a look. We entered a dimly lit renaissance style lobby and a middle-aged Mongolian lady who spoke excellent English asked if we wanted a tour.
Turns out it's the Children's Art Center, which is a government sponsored art program for kids. The lady who gave us the tour, Bulganna, told us she used to travel the world giving lectures on Mongolian history. She gave us one for free right on the spot.
We met one of the artists, Ganbold. He does Picasso-style paintings with Mongolian themes. Bulganna mentioned that he wanted to learn English, and I volunteered to help in exchange for him to teach me Mongolian.
So through a series of pure chance encounters, I was all set in this strange town. In less than two weeks of moving here, I now have two more-or-less regular jobs, a language exchange, and a set of new friends.
Monday, May 4, 2009
I got a job!
For some reason, the guy at Khonggor kept trying to kick me out. Still not knowing whether I would stay for long in this city, I moved to the Golden Gobi, another hostel that seemed more funky and relaxed.
In my dorm room I met Alex, a very cool Russian dude who is one of the few other non-tourist foreigners in Ulaanbaatar. He's writing his thesis on non-profits in civil society, and Mongolia is of interest to him because of its relatively smooth transition from a socialist to democratic state.
He went with me to interview at Lotus Orphanage, about 7km from Ulaanbaatar in a ger district. Ger districts are kind of a poor suburb of Ulaanbaatar. Nomads move to the city to find work, but can't afford a house, so they just move their ger and build a fence around it. All the land is public in Mongolia, so if nobody complains for two weeks, they can claim it.
There is no running water, so people have to buy water from the water station and carry it home.
I got the job on the spot, and they offered to provide me with food and a ger if I taught an art class, since they already had an English teacher. So I guess I will be staying in Mongolia for a while!
Ecstatic that I finally have a reason to stay here, Alex and I ran up the closest mountain.
In my dorm room I met Alex, a very cool Russian dude who is one of the few other non-tourist foreigners in Ulaanbaatar. He's writing his thesis on non-profits in civil society, and Mongolia is of interest to him because of its relatively smooth transition from a socialist to democratic state.
He went with me to interview at Lotus Orphanage, about 7km from Ulaanbaatar in a ger district. Ger districts are kind of a poor suburb of Ulaanbaatar. Nomads move to the city to find work, but can't afford a house, so they just move their ger and build a fence around it. All the land is public in Mongolia, so if nobody complains for two weeks, they can claim it.
There is no running water, so people have to buy water from the water station and carry it home.
I got the job on the spot, and they offered to provide me with food and a ger if I taught an art class, since they already had an English teacher. So I guess I will be staying in Mongolia for a while!
Ecstatic that I finally have a reason to stay here, Alex and I ran up the closest mountain.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Terelj Tourist Trap!
Before my volunteer gig with Susan at Rinky Dink, I had a couple days off. Misaki and I walked around the city looking for a new hostel (Khongor was trying to kick me out) and we decided to take a 2 day tour to nearby Terelj National Park through the UB Guesthouse.
At 9:00 am, we met the driver and we set off. We stopped to see our first Ovoo - a shamanistic pile of rocks. People circle it three times and throw three rocks onto it. It was different from the one I saw in Inner Mongolia – the one there was much more structured.
Nearby there were people charging to ride camel and hold a falcon – what is a camel doing so far up north? Ugh. They told us this would be authentic. Let's wait and see.
Finally, we got to the site, a vast plain dotted with large rock formations. Our host family was located in three gers against a large, eroded rock mountain. They barely greeted us, and directed us to our ger - it was a typical tourist ger with 5 beds and we realized we wouldn't be living with the family as we were told we would be.
After sitting in the ger for a while, three other tourists came in - two Americans and a German. They immediately started complaining and mentioning how glad they are to have new tourists. "We've been sitting here for two days with nothing to do, not enough food to eat, there's no interaction with the family, it's horrible!!!"
Oh no.
A little kid came in, put a meager lunch of macaroni and beef on the table, and left without saying anything. Shortly after, they came and asked if we wanted to ride on horses. The other three people wanted to as well, but the family told them they would charge extra since they already went the day before, so they went back to their ger and sat around.
The ride was excruciating. First of all, these were the most unenergetic horses I've ever seen in my life. I could walk faster than them. I asked the guide if we could go faster, and he just said "no, you'll fall off" and went back to listening to Mongolian gangsta rap on his cell phone. The scenery was beautiful, but the ride was unbearable. After repeated requests, I finally yelled at the guy and he agreed to let us go faster on the way back.
Once we got back, there was nothing to do again. We broke out the beer and the vodka, and spent the rest of the afternoon throwing rocks at vodka bottles and trying to surf down the slope with metal plates.
Finally, it was dinner time. Again, there was barely enough to eat. After sitting around for a while, I couldn't stand it anymore. I marched to the family ger and asked if we could have more food a la Oliver Twist. They told me there was no more. Luckily, another tour group had arrived with an English-speaking Mongolian guide and I asked her to translate for us. Finally we got them to drive us to the nearby store to buy instant ramen and more beer.
After finally getting somewhat full, we tried to start a bonfire - which was only fully ignited after I unloaded my 53% alcohol Chinese Baijiu into the fire with a found Nike sneaker. The other group joined us and we learned of their amazing experience out in the Eastern provinces. I guess it's hard to find anything authentic enough being only one hour from the capital.
The next day, we left as early as possible. I think Misaki was really upset because she didn't talk for the rest of the way. And I never really talked to her again after that either, especially after I moved to the Golden Gobi. It was very strange.
A week later, sitting in the Golden Gobi lounge after way too much vodka, I told my story to a group and ignited yells of "UB GUESTHOUSE SUCKS BALLS!!!" It seems like many people had the same experience.
At 9:00 am, we met the driver and we set off. We stopped to see our first Ovoo - a shamanistic pile of rocks. People circle it three times and throw three rocks onto it. It was different from the one I saw in Inner Mongolia – the one there was much more structured.
Nearby there were people charging to ride camel and hold a falcon – what is a camel doing so far up north? Ugh. They told us this would be authentic. Let's wait and see.
Finally, we got to the site, a vast plain dotted with large rock formations. Our host family was located in three gers against a large, eroded rock mountain. They barely greeted us, and directed us to our ger - it was a typical tourist ger with 5 beds and we realized we wouldn't be living with the family as we were told we would be.
After sitting in the ger for a while, three other tourists came in - two Americans and a German. They immediately started complaining and mentioning how glad they are to have new tourists. "We've been sitting here for two days with nothing to do, not enough food to eat, there's no interaction with the family, it's horrible!!!"
Oh no.
A little kid came in, put a meager lunch of macaroni and beef on the table, and left without saying anything. Shortly after, they came and asked if we wanted to ride on horses. The other three people wanted to as well, but the family told them they would charge extra since they already went the day before, so they went back to their ger and sat around.
The ride was excruciating. First of all, these were the most unenergetic horses I've ever seen in my life. I could walk faster than them. I asked the guide if we could go faster, and he just said "no, you'll fall off" and went back to listening to Mongolian gangsta rap on his cell phone. The scenery was beautiful, but the ride was unbearable. After repeated requests, I finally yelled at the guy and he agreed to let us go faster on the way back.
Once we got back, there was nothing to do again. We broke out the beer and the vodka, and spent the rest of the afternoon throwing rocks at vodka bottles and trying to surf down the slope with metal plates.
Finally, it was dinner time. Again, there was barely enough to eat. After sitting around for a while, I couldn't stand it anymore. I marched to the family ger and asked if we could have more food a la Oliver Twist. They told me there was no more. Luckily, another tour group had arrived with an English-speaking Mongolian guide and I asked her to translate for us. Finally we got them to drive us to the nearby store to buy instant ramen and more beer.
After finally getting somewhat full, we tried to start a bonfire - which was only fully ignited after I unloaded my 53% alcohol Chinese Baijiu into the fire with a found Nike sneaker. The other group joined us and we learned of their amazing experience out in the Eastern provinces. I guess it's hard to find anything authentic enough being only one hour from the capital.
The next day, we left as early as possible. I think Misaki was really upset because she didn't talk for the rest of the way. And I never really talked to her again after that either, especially after I moved to the Golden Gobi. It was very strange.
A week later, sitting in the Golden Gobi lounge after way too much vodka, I told my story to a group and ignited yells of "UB GUESTHOUSE SUCKS BALLS!!!" It seems like many people had the same experience.
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