People's Choice

My poor neglected blog. Anyone reading this has nearly missed all of my second year of service. Unfortunate, because this has definitely been the easier and more rewarding of the two.

Now the fourth quarter of school is beginning. For me, this means a lot more time, as the fourth quarter has no Olympics, no education center evaluations, and therefore really not a lot of work going on besides preparing older students for graduation tests. My school also recently got Internet access, so with my extra time, I may be hanging around the computer lab more often. These two facts, as well as my growing anticipation for finally coming home, may lead to me to clock a few more hours on the Internet. In which case, I'll try to catch you up on some of the more interesting moments in this past year.

But, before I do, here's the news briefs:
- Dude's pregnant. I'll be a grandma in a week or two.
- There's only a month left of school!Whoo hoo
- I was awarded the "People's Talent" medal

And for full-coverage of the medal:
Just a week or , a city-wide obsession is coming to an end. For nearly a month, my school prepared for and then performed a competition show. This competition included every organization in our city (schools, government offices, military, police, etc.) Yes, this is a nice idea. And, yes, it was fun to watch and fun for the first week or so of practice. But what it really gave me was a deep appreciation for SYT. That's right, Summer Youth Theater. It boggles my mind to remember how efficient the practices were and how dedicated everyone was to the show's success.

During this month-long process, there was definitely some dedication. But that dedication wasn't quite channeled into successful practices. For two straight weeks we practiced everyday, from 10ish to 7ish. And still, after all this, there were things still being learned on the performance day..

I was in four performances: Mongolian solo song, Mongolian solo dance, group chair dance, couples Latin American dance. The Mongolian song was a traditional song put to a poppy beat. It was everyone's favorite. The Mongolian dance was fun. I'll bring the music back and show you all. The chair dance was made because I showed the Pussycat Dolls "Buttons" video to the choreographer, so she made a sexy little dance in which we throw our hair back about 100 times. My neck's still sore. And the Latin dance was choreographed by me and Jess.

We preformed our school show 2 times. Then I was invited to the next two rounds. The third show was the competition of the bests. And the fourth show was a gala of the best of the best. I got a medal, about $13 and a DVD of Mongolian folk songs and dances. For the most part, it was worth it. But I'm glad they restarted this Soviet-era tradition during my final year. I'm not eager to be a part of it again.

Christmas family photo

C is for ...

So what is the worst part about teaching in Mongolia? Cheating.

Cheating, of course, is a problem everywhere. Students will always cheat if they can get away with it. So is the strife of a teacher, right? But it's not the student cheating that's difficult to deal with. It's the teachers.

Unfortunately in my town (I'm trying not to overgeneralize) "cheaters never prosper" is merely a theory that no one buys into. So not only do students get away with cheating, but they are indirectly taught to cheat by the teachers. The scholarship application process here isn't a student spending their after-school hours typing out essay draft after essay draft, asking teachers and parents to edit and give advice. No. I sat in a room where four teachers and a mother were filling out an application, writing essays, and deciding which lies would help their student the most ... all while the student sat popping bubble gum and reading a magazine on the sideline. For a week straight, I was also asked to write the English essays for these students. I was given every excuse in the book for why I should, or why it wouldn't be so bad. My school's manager, who just couldn't understand my persistent "no" to this request, looked at me in amazed confusion and ask what religion I am.

This isn't an isolated event, but it was definitely the worst I experienced. My idealism was nearly down for the count. Especially when I considered all the other small incidents:
- someone texting me during the English Olympics for an answer (after two months of preparing people for this test.
- Being yelled at because I wouldn't raise the grades for teachers who never attended my English lessons.
- Being asked to sway the decision for multiple English tests, oral tests, etc.

But, luckily I'm writing this a few weeks later. If not, you'd have a horrible rant about how it's pointless for me to be here. But I'm passed that phase. It's part of the culture, as it is many a culture. It's of course also a problem in America. It just so happens that in most of our schools, they at least work to give us a bit of a conscience when it comes to cheating. Here, they haven't started that process yet. So if nothing else, in the future I'll be a passing thought in someone's mind when they're deciding to cheat or not to. Maybe they'll say, "Hey, remember that blonde American ... she wouldn't help us cheat." Then, hopefully it won't be followed by "Glad she's not here anymore."

I'm sorry (head hanging in shame)

Wow, has it been this long since we last spoke? And I don't even have a good excuse. Can I just say I was busy? Will you believe me? Would you forgive me? I won't make any more promises about writing on this blog. After each entry, just assume that I'll probably never write again. Then any additions will be a welcome surprise.

But congratulations to me and the others in my group. We've survived a year. Amazing, huh? And welcome to the M-17's, of which there are 57 now beginning their training in Darkhan; 3 of whom will join me at my site.

The weather is warm (inside my ger it was 82 F yesterday!). School is unofficially over for me. And now I've started my laid-back summer work: tutoring, English camp preparation, and visiting friends. My health is good, according to my mid-service check-up. Just waiting for reports from my MIF kit (which is an acronym for something that means poop analysis) to show whether there's something living in stomach. And, no Christopher, Dude no longer has bad gas. Life is good. But you've caught me at a good time. If I do ever make it back to this site, I'll start to explain the incredibly frustrating fourth quarter I had at school, and the most difficult part, for me, of working in this culture.

Hope all is well. Let me know how you're doing.

Coming Soon

Stay tuned for these exciting posts about my life, struggles, and accomplishments.

- Volleyball tournaments

- Christmas

- New Year's

- Mongolia's biggest national holiday

- 40 inches of snow

- Getting married in Mongolia

- Surviving bird flu and saving the world with my antibodies

(I know, you're starting to doubt the truth in my words. But I promise, this time soon means soon. ;-)

Eighth-of-the-way update

Weather
Very cold. When I wake up in the morning, most of my water is frozen, as well as any slobber that may have fallen onto my pillow. I spend a couple minutes urging myself out of bed and make fire as fast as my frozen hands can. Then I jump back in bed and wait for my ger to heat up a bit.

What am I eating?
Well, I’ll admit, I’ve become a bit lazy. It was fun for awhile attempting to make some fancy meals. There were a couple weeks when I hand-made tortillas for almost every meal. But lately I’ve been eating soup -- noodles, green peppers, onions, and a seasoning called Vigora. And, sadly, there have been many-a-day when this humble meal is my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But, again, don’t feel bad for me. It’s pure laziness.

Then there were 47
Three M-16s have left Mongolia and returned to the states. All left for medical reasons. One was a sitemate here in Uliastai. Another was a sitemate from training.

My ger-mate
Dude has returned to me. The cat with the God-awful meow now roams around my ger permanently. Luckily, her cries have subsided a little. Unluckily, she has horrible gas. Hence the reason I’ve requested scented candles from my mother. But I definitely enjoy her company. Besides stinking and crying, she’s fairly well-behaved. Although, she thinks the Christmas tree in my ger is a giant toy. I once saw her little head sticking out from among the branches in the middle of tree, like a little furry ornament.

The 9-to-5
Ha, I bet your forgot I was actually working here. The second quarter has been much better. My work with the teachers has been a lot more productive. Instead of splitting time equally with all 6 teachers, working on both teaching skills and English language, I now focus on one teacher’s English and another teacher’s teaching. And the remaining 4 teachers get the split. I also get to work more closely with some students -- which makes me much happier. I get to teach two classes a week on my own. And I am working individually with two students preparing for the English Olympics.

The most frustrating part is the set-up of secondary schools here. My teachers teach high school in the morning, elementary school in the afternoon, constantly have to write lesson plans and other paperwork for the managers, and are endlessly preparing extracurricular programs (for example, and alphabet party we’ll be having this week.) Every week there’s a new celebration, competition, informational exposition, or some other extra activity the teachers are responsible for. They rarely leave school before 7 p.m. It makes it difficult for me to work with anyone, and therefore to feel like I’m helping anyone. Although, I’ll admit that I’m not sure they’d be any more productive if they did have extra time. The busy work may be so ingrained in their work ethic, that sometimes I doubt they’d use extra time to improve their skills. But it’d be nice to have the opportunity.

Thanksgiving

Happy Turkey day was celebrated with some excellent burritos made by my sitemate David, brownies I brought back from UB, followed by some karaoke. That’s right, I said karaoke. In my town, there is a karaoke bar called Casablanca. T-day was my second visit. But quite far from my last. And there is another “Karaoke Revolution” fan here in town. My friend Jess and I may soon become regulars. What did I sing? Well, I’ll just say, there’s a group of Mongolians who now know me as “Barbie girl.”

And to my karaoke competition: Derrick, beware. In two years, we meet again. And this time, no kiddie songs. “Killing Me Softly” ... is mine.

Trip to the big city -- Yee haw

To fly from my site to the capital, it takes two hours by plane and about $200. By car, it takes an estimated 30 hours. So unlike other M-16 volunteers, most of whom live less than 5 hours away, my sitemates and I rarely make it to the big city. We have to make due with hearing about everyone else’s visits or thinking up medical reasons why PC should fly us in. Two of my sitemates, however, are on the volunteer council. Three times a year PC flies them in for meetings. A third volunteer did actually have a legitimate medical concern that warranted not only a trip to UB, but also the coveted Thailand trip. (If you have medical problems that PC Mongolia’s medical officers can’t handle, the regional clinic is in Thailand.) So after nearly three months stuck at site, my friend David and I were started to feel a little trapped. Especially since so many fellow volunteers had already made numerous trips into the capital and to Darkhan, despite a three-month restriction on vacation days for new volunteers.

This just happened to be the complaint of the week, when what to my wandering ears should I hear that my school was sending some teachers to UB. And one of my English teachers was making the journey. Luckily I had the perfect excuse to go with them. Just a month earlier a group of returned PC volunteers from Mongolia, called Friends of Mongolia, had sent boxes of books for volunteers to pick up and take to their schools. The idea was well accepted. But then the big question was whether I would be warm enough.

“It’s a very difficult trip, Jenny.”
“Do you have warm clothes?”
“Can you eat our food?”
“Can you be in UB by yourself?”

So began a process of preparing me for this 30-hour van ride. My del (traditional Mongolian robe-like outfit), which I had been waiting for for 2 months, was finally completed. My counterpart took me to buy some fancy Mongolian boots (which turned out to be the worst purchase I’ve made yet in Mongolia). I was told to buy my own food, since I told them I wouldn’t eat their meat. So I filled a bag with Snickers, cookies, crackers, and juice.
Everyone was making such a big deal of it, I started to get worried. But besides the length of the drive, it turned out to be a nice little trip.

A summary of the two-day travels:- 10 people total; 2 in front, 8 in the 6 seats in back (of course, I had the crack)
- Time was passed with Mongolian card game, hours of them singing Mongolian traditional songs, 2 minutes of me singing an English song, lots of sleeping.
- Despite the fact that the car was full of women, pee breaks were rare. Unlike American women, Mongolian women never pee. It’s amazing. When we did pee, it was squatting on the side of the road.
- The view would have been amazing, except the windows were frozen over for most of the trip.
- For dinner, we stopped at people’s homes along the road and ate. I ate cookies and bowls of rice.
- At one point, we stopped to have cookies and vodka with a trucker driving the opposite direction. Turns out, he was from our town and they both had known to look for the other. (2 quick explanations: The whole drive was mostly on a one-lane dirt road, and during the whole 30-hour excursion we may have passed 10 or 15 other cars. So spotting another traveler you may know was not difficult. Vodka is Mongolia’s national drink. They drink it for all celebrations or meetings or at anytime when they want to show some sort of respect or gratitude.)
- At night, we stopped at a small restaurant and 10 of us slept on a long, wooden bed.

My stay in UB was excellent. A nice change of pace. I stayed at another volunteer’s apartment. No fire building. Fresh coffee every morning. In one week I took more showers than I had in 3 months at my site. And the restaurants ... so good. I also had a chance to talk with quite a few other volunteers.

My work, with my counterpart, went well according to them. We watched classes taught at the university that is affiliated with our school. We got copies of their class curriculums. We bought some grammar books for our students. These three small accomplishments ended up being more productive than anyone else. Apparently, like me, most of the other teachers saw the trip as a vacation. So when we piled back into the car and crammed it with tons of junk bought in UB, very little of it was work related.

Interesting cultural difference of the week:
“Interesting” seems to be equivalent to frustrating. For this trip, it’s the difference in planning that was difficult for me to adjust to. What is the difference? Americans plan. Mongolians don’t. Or, as my counterpart explained, they may have plans but they don’t talk about them. It’s bad luck. So when PC asked that I give a complete rundown of my trip prior to leaving, I had nothing to give. I could only say when I thought we would leave, when I thought we might arrive, and how long I thought we might be staying. Throughout the whole trip, I ran into this same situation. Despite the fact that I had very few plans of my own, I couldn’t shake the habit of plotting my day out in my mind. So each day I would think about what I might do after work. But, inevitably, I would find my tentative plans impossible. And usually not for any productive or important reason. Usually, the lack of planning was the reason my plans didn’t pan out. Most of my trip was spent wandering around the city trying to decide what to do or trying to find where we were.

One quarter down

The first quarter of classes has come to an end. Three months of feeling completely lost and frustrated. Searching for some hint of a niche I could fill. Trying to build relationships and wishing it was as easy as building my fires.

At least for now, i feel like I may have some sort of direction. I sat down with each teacher to ask specifically what they hope I can help them with. Part of my frustration was that the training I was given by the Peace Corps was specific to smaller towns with very limited resources. My school is fairly large, has quite a few resources and has very motivated teachers. So while there are a couple newer teachers who could benefit from some of the teaching methodology I was taught, most already know it and use it or don’t, according to their preferences. They all have projects they’re working on -- some related to teaching, some not. And they all have goals they’re working toward -- some related to teaching, some not.

At first, i was frustrated working with the teachers who aren’t interested in being teachers. The ones who only wanted to work with me to improve their English for their own benefit. I felt like they were cheating the students or the Peace Corps or somebody.

The other problem was that some of the teachers who do work hard to improve their teaching skills didn’t seem especially interested in team-teaching with me -- which is supposed to be the main part of my job.

So I sat down with each teacher and asked their goals. I think because they had these goals hidden, it caused a gap in our already disconnected communication. But I have new hope for the second quarter now that they’ve opened up to me. And I’ve changed my understanding of my role here. I’m not just here to help students or teachers, but Mongolians in general. So if some of my teachers only want English language practice, then that’s what I’ll help them with. I won’t expect that every teacher will need or want what I think are important goals.

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.

And a month later ...

... I'm back. It's been busy, so while I do finally have Internet close by, I have only managed to make it here 5 times since I've been here. But I'll be making a point to schedule a little Internet and up-date time.

For now, though, I am only going to attempt to post my address. Thank you, Sharyn, for making a TIFF. Hopefully it will show up in my profile. And, I think, it should be at the top of this post.

Hope all is well. Let me know how you all are. And, I promise, soon I'll update this site on all the happenings here in Uliastai.

My new home

So I’ve been at site for two weeks now and I haven’t posted anything to this site, nor have I taken many pictures here. I think I’ve only taken two since moving to this new town. The reason, I think, is that the end of summer and training felt like the end of a vacation. Now, work and responsibility begin. And what fun is that to write and read about? But, yes, I know, that’s where the good stuff is. So from now on I’ll try to write regularly and keep you updated on this not-so-carefree but much-more-important phase of my adventure.

The setting
Uliastai is a beautiful city. There are mountains surrounding the town and a river runs through the center. I’m told one of the mountains is used for skiing during the winter. The center of town vaguely resembles small-town America. But most of the residents live in gers. There are stores in every nook and cranny. Most are grocery stores, all of which sell the same products with one or two specialties to each. Yesterday we found some cheese -- a treasure here. Apparently a German veterinarian worked here for a couple years and convinced the store owner to bring the cheese from UB. A 20- to- 30-hour trip by jeep to UB is how all the store owners get supplies. So, for those willing to haul your requests back, it’s just a matter of promising to buy special supplies when they return. Other than grocery stores, there are salons at every turn.

There are also tons of huge dogs running around -- everywhere. For the most part, they ignore people and just attack each other. Interesting story (possibly a rumor) -- We’ve been told by multiple sources that every spring and fall small-time prisoners from the jail are given guns to shoot all the strays. But I see a problem with this story -- if they kill all the dogs in the fall, where does the next batch come from? I don’t think many puppies could survive the winters. Seriously, if you’re going to start a rumor, make it believable.

My ger is very nice, and pretty cozy. It’s a smaller ger, but that means it’s easier to heat. I have a non-functioning TV and a refrigerator -- so it’s pretty fancy.

The characters
I live in a hashaa (yard) with a woman who works at my school, her 29-year-old daughter and the daughter’s 3-year-old son. They also have a hashaa dog, who one day held me hostage in my ger. But I have since fed him some nice, juicy fat from the meat I bought, so now he’s my friend ... acquaintance, anyway.

I have 6 counterparts -- the English teachers I work with. Some are very good at English. A couple struggle to communicate with me. But they’re all eager to learn. They’re all, also, beautiful. I was joking that I’ve joined the cast of Mongolia’s “Sex and the City.” Four of them are married with children. They are all under 30. Three of them are my age, 24.

There are four other volunteers in my town. All guys (lucky me, right?). Two are teacher-trainers, one is TEFL (like me) and one is a health volunteer. One of the teacher-trainers is an M-15, so he gives us the lowdown on life here in Uliastai. For instance, he informed us that during the winter we will likely only have four hours of electricity a day. Hmmm ... thanks for the warning. One of these guys is from L.A. and another lived in L.A. for four years. This is a source of endless enjoyment for me, as they both face the oncoming winter with fear. The other M-16 is from Michigan. So while both of us will also soon be out of our element, at least we get a good laugh during the fall.

My role
Of course, I’m still trying to figure this out. So far, the list includes:
- English teacher for high school students
- English tutor for English teachers
- Teaching methodology trainer for English teachers
- English Club adviser

In town, I’m just one of the Americans. To my neighbors, I’m an extra responsibility and a personal home tutor. To the college students in town, I’m a novelty.

What’s interesting to me is that my image here is different. In Mongolia, I:
- am tall
- look my age -- most Americans look old to Mongolians.
- am beautiful -- This isn’t a self-deprication thing. In America, I’m average-looking. But here, I look like every blonde-haired, blue-eyed model/movie star/pop start they’ve ever seen on TV or in magazines. On my first day of school, a student asked me if I was in a movie. During training, my language instructor saw a drawing of Heidi Klum and asked if it was me. Of course, I said yes.

P.S. I dated it for the day I began this post. But for the record, and to clarify later posts, it wasn't actually on the site until Oct.31.

And now it begins

I’m officially a Peace Corps volunteer. Today was our swearing-in ceremony, attended by the U.S. ambassador to Mongolia as well as the Mongolian president. We got word he was coming a couple days ago. It was quite an honor, but also a little nerve-wracking… since many of us were performing Mongolian songs and dances. But it turned out to be a beautiful ceremony. And my group’s dance was excellent.

Tomorrow, I leave for UB, where I’ll stay until Wednesday. Then I fly to my home for the next two years. I’ll be in the Zavkhan aimag, which is way out west. I’ll be living in a ger (I know you’re excited about that) but I"ll also be in the aimag center (capital), so I’ll have a decent variety of food during the winter. So I’m half roughing it and half Posh Corps (as we PCVS so lovingly call the easy life).

This past week, I met with my supervisor, the director of the school I’ll be working for. I must say, I was a bit intimidated when I first met him. His school has had two volunteers before me, which means I have double to live up to. He doesn’t speak any English, so we couldn’t discuss too much. But the one thing I kept hearing about was the previous volunteer and what she was able to do. So after our first meeting, I started biting my nails and wishing I were going to a town that had never had an English-speaking English teacher before. But, the next day we spent a lot of time with translators, discussing my jobs and what I expected and what he expected. And now I’m super excited. My school sounds awesome – and very advanced compared to what I expected.

Here’s a rundown of what my job duties tentatively entail:
For the first month or two, I don’t have to teach. I just observe all the classes, and maybe help out with English discussion activities.
At the start of the second quarter, I’ll started teaching an advanced English class, in which students have to pay to attend (which means discipline and apathy won’t be too big of a problem).
I"ll also start working with the English club, work on developing the recently started English resource room, and I’ll be teaching basic computer courses. The school just got a whole bunch of computers, and Internet(!) so I’ll be the specialist. The English resource room should be exciting. I’ll be responsible for working with organizations to find book and resource donations, as well as developing some of the visual aids, worksheets, tests and whatnot. The director is also excited that I studied journalism and is interested in applying that to his school in some way. So, after talking with him, I feel like all this is completely within my abilities, and better yet, all things I’m pretty interested in. Kudos to the Peace Corps for making what appears to be a good match.

As for my town, I have one of the most beautiful aimags in the country. Mountains, rivers, hot springs! But …it’s also one of the coldest. This is, I believe, why they put me in a ger as opposed to an apartment. I expressed my concerns about the cold early on, and living in a ger, the heating is controlled by me and my God-given abilities (God, I hope you gave me these abilities) to make fire.

So that’s the brief description. Luckily, I’ll have regular Internet, so you’ll be able to follow my adventure fairly regularly. I’ll be posting my new address on here soon. I also will have regular cell phone access. So anyone who didn’t receive my phone number, but would like to give me a call sometime, let me know and I"ll e-mail you my number.

What you’ve missed in the past three weeks:

• I took the final language test, and received an Intermediate low. A month ago I was at Beginner medium. Beginner high is what you need to stay in the Peace Corps (so they say). So my level is above (but not beyond) what was necessary. So I’m pleased. My language abilities were also helpful in impressing my new boss. So, yay for me.
• But don’t worry. It hasn’t gone to my head. While practicing for the final test, my host family was quizzing me on everyday questions. They asked me what other languages I spoke. I thought they were asking what foods I could cook. So I started naming Mongolian food – budz, hosher, dumpling soup, etc. They started cracking up, and then proceeded to make fun of me for saying I could speak the language of yogurt.
• Another communication snafu. I inadvertently canceled one of my English classes, on a day when the Peace Corps was coming to observe me. I was trying to tell my kids were going to learn a new song in a couple days. They thought I meant we didn’t have class for a couple days. So I was worried my observer would have to watch me teach my host sister, and no other students. Luckily, most of the students live close enough to the school that they could run around and get each other at the last minute.

Repeat after me, students ...

Hello, all. Sorry it’s taken so long to post. The days went from super long and slow to super busy. I have four hours of Mongolian language study, walk home and eat lunch, then walk back to school to teach an hour of English. After my classes, I go to Mongolian dancing classes. Our group has decided to learn a dance for our swearing-in on Aug. 20. By the way, the word for "dancing" in Mongolian sounds like "boojiggly." I may have already said this somewhere on this blog, but it’s so great, I have to repeat it. Try it.

"Are you ready for some boojiggly?"
"I’d love a little boojiggly."
"That boy can boojiggly!"

See, it’s fun! After some boojiggly, I walk home, have dinner and write the next day’s lesson plan. Through all this, the weeks have flown by. I only have two more weeks of training, then one week in Darkhan … then I go to my new home. Exciting and a little scary. But I’m ready for it.

Teaching classes is going well. I definitely feel up for the task. What’s my weak point as a teacher? The disciplining. I know it’s a bit of surprise. I’m sure you all thought I’d storm into my class and lay the law down. But apparently I’m too "gentle." Who’d have thought?

Best part of the past week: Our Mongolian instructor is this petite, soft-spoken, sweet little Mongolian lady. We thought it would be great to teach her some useful, American slang. So when a couple of the volunteers came into class, she stood in her calm, teacherly way in front of the class and said "Fo schizzle my nizzle." It was incredible.

Saving grace: So I thought I'd really miss driving while I was here. But I think that was largely because I love to sing loudly in my car. It's my stress relief. But I've found a replacement. Behind my house there is nothing but fields. A little less than a mile away there's a great hill with a perfect view of the sunset. It's beautiful. I'll try to post pictures soon. And while I've become a regular performer for the grasshoppers and birds that live back there, I'll leave the sound clip out.

Sending letters and whatnot: Thank you so much for all the letters. Dr. Kilmer, you’re wonderful. In two weeks I’ll have a new address. So you’ll all have to stop using the Peace Corps address within the next two months. I’ve received letters as fast two weeks after they were sent, and as slow as a month. I just received packages from my family, sent probably a month and a half to two months ago. But it’s possible they were sitting the PC office until a trainer could bring them out to me.

Calling: My parents found a new web site that offers a good deal on phone cards. www.speedypin.com. They just used it for the first time yesterday, but it is supposed to have minutes to Mongolian for less than 5 cents.

I’ll be back in the city in two weeks. So it’s unlikely you’ll hear from me before then. So don’t worry! I’m fine. Hope all is well. Thanks for staying in touch and letting me know how things are going. I appreciate it more than you know.

Teaching tomorrow

Training is flying by. We only have a month left. Tomorrow begins practice teaching. I’ll teach my first lesson to 15 or so students from my town. It’s their summer vacation, so it’s a voluntary class. But in my tiny town there were more than 60 students who registered. And for the following two days, mothers and fathers randomly came into our classroom (while we were learning Mongolian) and asked if we had room for their students. Our Mongolian teacher was visited at her home by her boss, asking if four other students could sign up. It’s nice to know they’re excited to learn. Although, we’re told that by the fourth week, we’ll be lucky to have 5 students. Eventually they realize there are more exciting things to do during the summer.

How’s the weather? ... Hot! During the past week, it’s been in the mid-90s. The sun is intense, and there’s no shade ... anywhere. Honestly, I have a better tan now than I ever had in Costa Rica. Although, I admit, that could be an exaggeration. The fact that I only take one or two showers a week confuses things. It’s hard to tell what’s tan and what’s dirt.

Interesting experiences:
~ I saw my first sandstorm.
~ I saw host mother throw milk into the sky, a daily ritual for her.
~ My host sister threw milk at me as I was leaving for UB. I’m pretty sure it was for good luck and not in hopes that I stay away.
~ My host mom’s back was hurting. To help ease the pain, the older daughter took 20 grains of wheat and moved each grain individually around her lower back, hovering above the skin. I think she was pinching the flour out of the grains.

What my host family is confused about:
Every Mongolian meal is steaming hot. Even lunch, when it’s 95 degrees, I’m eating incredibly hot food and drinks. So my nose is constantly running whenever I’m eating. At least once a week, my family asks me if I’m sick. I always say no, the food is hot. They nod their heads as if they understand. But they still ask. I can’t wait until I can speak better Mongolian and can explain these situations. I know they think I don’t understand or am making up answers. It’ll be nice to let them know I’m not crazy.

Another rushed post

One month left of training. Then … prepared or not … I’ll be on my way to a village to teach some English and help develop the community. The days are flying by. Tomorrow I begin practice teaching. I’ll have 15 students, under the age of 15, who will be coming to my class during their summer vacation to learn English. More than 60 students signed up for mine and my sitemates’ classes. And even after registration was over, students were knocking on our doors to get into the classes. It’s nice to know they’re eager to learn. Although, we’ve been told by the third week we’ll be lucky to have five students still hanging around.

Since I last posted, we’ve celebrated Mongolia’s summer holiday, Naadam. I wrote a huge description of the celebration, but you’ll have to wait until I find a computer that accepts my USB drive before you can read it. Short description: lots of wrestling between men in fancy underwear. I have pictures.

What’s the weather like? Very hot. During the past week it’s held at a stead 90 degrees or so. And there’s no shade anywhere. Honestly, I have a better tan now than I ever did in Costa Rica. Although, I admit, it could be dirt. I only get to the shower once or twice a week.

I added a photo album link to the left. I hope it works. I think the pictures are a little dark. I’ll try to fix everything when training is over. I've been here for two hours and the computer has died on me 4 times. I tried to e-mail people, but gave up. Will, Travis, Katie, Liz, Ross and family, thanks for the e-mails. I promise I'll reply.
Hope all is well. Keep in touch! I love reading your comments. Christy, I'm glad you finally found the site! It's good to hear from you all.

Naadam

This past weekend was a holiday here in Mongolia. The big summer event is Naadam, which is celebrated with the three manly sports -- archery, horse racing, and wrestling. The big celebration is in UB, but it’s celebrated all over the country on different days and in different ways. My town’s celebration isn’t until October, which I believe is because my town is full of farmers. During the summer they’re incredibly busy with harvesting. So they wait until after the work is done to party.

Manly men
I went to Darkhan’s stadium to watch their games. We missed the archery, but we saw plenty of wrestling. Mongolian wrestling is pretty tame. Especially since you expect to see some WWF action when you see the traditional outfit. They wear a colorful half-shirt (just sleeves and a back), blue underwear and fancy boots. We’ve been told that the shirts used to have fronts, but one year a woman pretended she was a man, entered the competition and won. Women aren’t allowed to wrestle, so since then, they don’t cover their chests. Aside from the outfits, the wrestlers do a little eagle dance before and after each match. Some matches seem pretty uneventful. The object is to get the other guy to touch a knee or elbow to the ground. Most of the match is the two guys bent at the waist with their arms around each other, waiting for someone to make a move, hoping that move is the wrong one. The amateur matches are a bit more exciting. There are no weight classes, so there is often a larger guy with a smaller guy. The match often ends quickly with the larger guy picking the smaller guy up by his panties and throwing him to the ground.

No Janet here
My family watched UB’s Naadam celebration on TV. It felt a lot like the Super Bowl, with advertisements and all. There were pop stars singing in between events. Then a parade of trucks covered in banners of coffee brands and cell phone companies filled the TV screen for a couple minutes. The most entertaining part was when two couples began waltzing in the middle of the field. It was very elegant ... and then I noticed that the rest of the field was full of hip-hop dancers performing their own choreography to the ballroom music. I was a little thrown off, but it really grew on me. I think maybe 50 cent should look into that idea for his next video. I unfortunately didn’t get to watch too much of UB’s celebration, because I received a text message saying that my host father and sister were waiting in the town square for me ...

Confusion
This was one of many communication breakdowns that I’ve experienced. The day before, one of my sitemates mentioned that her host sister was taking us to the hoodo (countryside) to watch a horse race. I asked my host family whether they knew anything about this outing. They did not. But they had spent the past two days chopping up a goat they had slaughtered. I asked what this was for, and they said the father was going out with friends from work. No mention of anyone else joining him. The next morning, my sitemate sent me a text saying she was leaving now for the hoodo, could I let the others know. Well, since I had spent the entire day before in the sun, and since I wasn’t ready to go, I decided I would stay indoors and watch TV with my host mom. So when I received the message about 45 minutes later, all I could do was shake my head. I think what happened is that my host father hadn’t planned on inviting me, but when he realized there were other Americans going, he thought he should invite his American.

Ohio represents
We took a meaker out to a mountain, which all the men climbed to worship and ask for rain. The women, and the American men, waited for about an hour in the blazing sun. After the worship, we went to the river, swam, ate meat, dried milk curds, cookies and, yes, I finally drank the airag (fermented mare’s milk). Not the best drink I’ve ever had. Luckily, you’re just supposed to sip it and pass it. We also had our own, personal wrestling competition. And since they were one Mongolian wrestler short, my sitemate Nick (from Dayton) was asked to step in. He didn’t wear the fancy panties, but he gave it a good run. He lost to the second-place finalist.

Almost there

Here is a picture of the ger on wheels that I stayed in my first night in Mongolia. If you can see this picture then I've figured out half of the picture-posting business. Hopefully next weekend I'll put more on the site and set up an album you can link to.