Halloween

My first great accomplishment: helping organize my school’s first student play. It was no easy feat. But with a grand total of 5 practices, 20 students performed a Halloween play in English and put together a decent little set. The finished product in no way resembled the grand productions most American high schools put on. But for these students, it was a great creative effort.

I’ll admit, I started wondering whether it was worth so much effort. The play date was postponed when 2 of the 4 original practice dates fell on the same day as our school’s basketball tournament. So the students, as well as the Mongolian director of the play, weren’t able to make it to pracitces.

But the week after the tournament, the students spent a whole day preparing a set. They made a haunted house out of black fabric and paper. They made styrofoam tombstones. After asking for costumes every practice, on show day they finally brought them in. And after asking the English teachers to translate parts of it, it also was finally completed on show day. And somehow, the show was successfuly. Of course, the gauge for success is a bit different here. No one had their lines memorized. They also didn’t know where to go. I stood behind the curtain waving frantically at the students to let them know when and where to enter, whose line it was, and when the curtain should close. And besides the translated narrators’ lines, no one watching had any clue what was going on. And when the curtain closed for the final time, all the students ran up to me and asked how it was. Then I realized they were excited about it. They did care about it. They just had a strange (and very Mongolian) way of showing it. It was only later that night that I was told it was the first play to ever be performed at the school. And finally I understood. They weren’t blowing off preparations. They had no idea what went into putting a play.

As for the rest of Halloween, the Uliastai PCVs invited their English teachers to a Halloween party. The highlights were the tombstones of each PCV that told how we died (including dieing of bird flu and drowning in an outhouse.) While the Mongolians laughed, their superstitious roots came through. It was a nervous laugh and they quickly walked away. I went as a cat (which is scarier here than in the states. Mongolians hate cats.) For the next two weeks people talked about my cat tail made out of socks. Quite possibly more impressive to some than helping put on a play.

Just a girl in the world

I guess I can mark international correspondent off my list of possible careers. Two months without reporting probably wouldn’t go over well.

I’m alive and well. I think I successfully navigated through the hardest part of Peace Corps life (with a possible exception of the first Christmas). Now life here is becoming just that ... life. Building my fires, hauling in my water, schedules changing unexpectedly, students yelling “hello” and running away. And I can finally look around and appreciate all of this.

So what have you missed in the past two months?
School talent show -- Every class performs in nine categories. Two days of different classes performing the same show ... over and over and over.
Immune system on the fritz -- Basically, the whole two months I’ve been a little ill. My poor body has definitely been working overtime to keep me well. But stomach problems have calmed, mild cold is gone, fever accomplished its goal. Hopefully, the worst is over.
Hepatitis scare -- My 3-year-old neighbor is in the hospital with Hepatitis A. This was scary because I didn’t know what the illness was until the afternoon. My neighbors came to my ger and asked me to leave my key so the doctors could get in. When I got to school, everyone was saying how dangerous the disease was, but no one knew the English word for it. But the teachers were worried because it spreads through kindergartens quickly. The doctors just needed to spray a chlorine solution in my ger. And, for me, it’s no worry. I was vaccinated and I don’t drink the same water as my neighbors (which is likely how he got the disease). As for my neighbor, he’s fine. He should be home soon.
Cheese scare -- One day, the cheese lady was no longer in her store. There was a day of fear that we may no longer have cheese in our town. But, thank the Lord, she only moved to another location. Ravioli lives on.
The ballgame -- For the first English Club meeting, I taught the students baseball and “Take me out to the ballgame.” They caught on to the song quickly. Not so much so for the game. Once I finally got the batters to realize they needed to keep running around the bases, I looked around and realized that the outfield was just watching the runners as the ball rolled by their feet. They eventually caught on, though. And they all know the important fact that Ohio is the birthplace of baseball. Is this true? I’m not sure. But I know we had one of the first teams. That’s good enough for me.
Dude in my ger -- I was kitten-sitting for another volunteer for three weeks. It was nice to have a little company, but this cat (Dude is her name) has the most God-awful meow I’ve ever heard. At night, she liked to sleep right on my face. And if I didn’t let her, she’d scream directly into my ear. I still have nightmares.
The weather -- Well, if you all were disappointed by the summer’s temps, you can now look on the Internet and laugh heartily. Winter came upon us quickly. It has already snowed twice. Our coldest night, so far, was -15 C, which I believe is about 3 F. According to my community members, this winter won’t be extremely cold, but we will get a lot of snow. It could possibly be a dzud -- a winter with extreme conditions. Before coming to Mongolia, I assumed this meant very cold temps. But, in fact, it means not so cold temps, but lots of snow. While maybe this is good for me, it’s bad for the community’s herders. The animals can stand the temps, but not being covered in snow. I heard that during the last dzud, some gers were almost completely covered in snow. I hope I won’t have school on those days. ;-)

Interesting cultural difference of the day:
Health -- Mongolians’ views of health are very different than Americans’. While America has become very focused on emotions and stress levels in relation to illness, that doesn’t play a part here in Mongolia. Also, in America we are cautious in the winter to cover our heads and chests. In Mongolia, it’s the lower half of the body they protect. Keeping your feet warm is the most important defense against illness. The liver, kidneys, and (for women) uterus must also stay warm. This difference is only interesting to me now that I’m well. When I was sick with a stomach virus and then a high fever, I couldn’t help but be a little angry that they didn’t even consider the fact that I was working so much as a possible inhibitor to my recovery. And the reason for my illness wasn’t because I was encountering new germs or adjusting to a new environment. It was either because my feet were cold or because I’m a girl.

Not all fun and games

Culture shock is a crazy thing. It’s one of those unexplainable phenomenons that happens completely in your mind. And maybe for this reason, it’s rarely taken for more than one of many catch-phrases travelers love to throw out.
But this time, I definitely caught, came down with, developed ... experienced the shock.

How to explain it? For women, I can simply tell you to think of the worst week of PMS you can remember. You know, those days when everytime someone talks to you, you just want to rip your ears off so you don’t have to listen. So you rush through your day, promising yourself chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream as a reward for surviving. Now think of those same days when you had some pressing obligation that couldn’t be ignored. Maybe a presentation at work or out-of-town company to entertain.Those times when you have to be especially warm, friendly, and accepting ... even though on this particular day that’s the farthest from your reality. Now, imagine this day with these scenarios, but you find out about both the presentation and company 10 minutes before, none of your 6 co-workers have prepared anything for the presentation and are asking you to cover for them, all your friends and family are out of town and can’t help with dinner, the electricity goes out, your phone doesn’t work, your stomach is cramping, everyone is staring at you like you’re a freak, and the store is out of chocolate-chip cookie dough for the next two years.

For my male readers ... well, it sucked.

This feeling lasted for more than a month. Part of it was a bit of physical adjustment to my new home. Stomach problems, colds, fevers. But the hardest part was knowing how I felt, but wishing that I didn’t. As a trainee, I so looked forward to joining my new community, meeting everyone possible, soaking in the culture, and working with students. But then I found myself stuck in this horrible mood, and couldn’t change it, no matter how hard I tried. Everytime I tried to motivate myself or lift my own spirits, some new misunderstanding would occur. And the longer the funk lasted, the more I started doubting myself and my abilities as a volunteer and my decision to come. I started thinking maybe I was, indeed, a selfish American who had no intentions of learning from others or offering anything to anyone.
But I think at some point I just stopped processing everything around me, and went into auto-drive. Go to class, eat, go to bed, do it again. Maybe I’m too happy of a person for that mood to last too long. Or perhaps I’m not introspective enough for culture shock to do any real harm. Then again, it could be a combination of my renewed health and my directors’ explaining to my co-workers that I’m not slave labor. Whatever the reason, my shock to Mongolian culture is finally wearing off.