July 23, 2015: Ulaanbaatar and the return to it all

I was tempted to write this entry like a travelogue, complete with vaguely dramatic phrases like, “We woke on the morning of such and such to begin our journey to which and what.” I think I'll forgo that, though, and try to give a more honest accounting.

So, I woke on the morning of July 18 (I think) at 6 a.m with the order to get to the school by 630 so that we could leave by 7. At 7:10, we left finally when the last of the people giving the order to show up at 630 actually showed up. In the interrim, the town was mostly occupied by dogs, as most people were not yet awake. One of my colleagues has a dog which he has nicknamed “Gooey”, and which is apparently very fond of him, as he followed said colleague to school, about a 20-minute walk. This and two other particularly brave dogs approached us for pets and whatever food they thought we had. As it turned out, a different colleague showed up with a roll of ham (something approaching pepperoni or a summer sausage, but without the spices) that he couldn't finish entirely by his onesy, and the dogs were duly rewarded for their bravery.

Anyway, we did end up leaving at about 10 after, and there began a blessedly uneventful 4-hour trip to the capital. I variously nodded off and read as the time slipped by. We rolled in to UB about 11ish.

The group of us, 14 from my city and I think 12 from Emily's, were split mostly by gender between two “guesthouses” (hostels) called Mongol steppe 1 and Mongol steppe 2. Emily and I were given our own room (with a double bed!) in Mongol steppe 1, an entirely female dorm with eight others sharing bunkbeds in the room adjacent to ours. To give an idea of what it was like: it was a third-floor walk up apartment crammed with four bunkbeds, a desk and a computer, a small kitchen which was, despite its size, well-stocked, and the double-bed room which Emily and I occupied. There was a small balcony – maybe four people could fit on it at once, if they were feeling adventurous.

The first day was loaded (as was the second, but we'll get to that). We started out with lunch at an Indian restaurant called “Namaste”. It was good, but not quite of the caliber of some of my favorite Indian restaurants back home, Guru notwithstanding. Also, it was expensive (by Mongolian standards), and the PC had given us very little in the way of walking-around money for such an expensive city.

After Namaste, a group of about seven or eight of us walked to Gandan Temple, which houses an enormous statue of Buddha which, for some reason, had four arms. My understanding of Buddhism and the Buddha has apparently been very limited, as I didn't know that the Buddha was revered as a god in the sense that his status as a man was open to interpretation among most Buddhists. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, as religion is the most nuanced universal truth out there (little joke, that).

The visit raised an old debate in my mind concerning the nature of idols, religious community, and religion more generally. I suppose I'm an atheist, though what exactly that means in the face of my belief in what might be called the soul is somewhat difficult to reconcile (I manage it, somehow). It came down to this: bringing idols into it and allowing the worship of them pushes one toward an...

You know what? I like that you all are reading my blog. I suppose I'd rather not alienate anyone. If anyone's interested in a spirited back and forth about belief and religion, send me an e-mail.

The statue was quite large, and was surrounded on all sides by Buddhist prayer wheels – you spin the wheels and meditate on your prayer, and the wheel's motion sends your prayer to 'heaven'. Each time the wheel is spun, that prayer (and all the others attached to it) are repeated as many times as the wheel spins. At least, I think that's what the belief is.

The temple in which the statue was housed was very tall, probably four stories, though we only had access to the first. There were dozens of people filing in and out, all of whom seemed very respectful and genuinely reverent. The atmosphere was very quiet; shuffling feet and the sound of the wheels spinning while rain hammered the roof and thunder rumbled in the skies outside. Offerings of money were made to the images of hundreds of lamas covering the back and right-hand walls. The statue of Buddha sat in the center, looming large and illuminated by strategically placed lights.

The temple is located not in the heart of downtown, per se, but certainly in the heart of the city itself. I forgot to ask how old the place was, but I believe it's at least 200 years old. The entrance is set in such a way that, when you leave, you are staring into the mountains on the outskirts of UB which were, at the time I left, covered with fog. The deep saturation of colors brought on by the rain and the fog solidified the experience in a way which would not have been possible (for me) on a bright, hot, sunny day. We left with heavy minds, each thinking our own thoughts.

We headed back into the city proper. A long walk brought us to the State Department Store, which was so similar to an American shopping mall that it was almost uncomfortably uncanny. It felt like being back in the states – after weeks of people staring at me, possibly the only foreigner/American they've ever seen, it was a huge weight off of my shoulders to be casually ignored. I mean, the place even had a Cinnabon (two of them, in fact) and a cafe.

After that, my group waltzed to the Peace Corps office (ostensibly the reason for the trip in the first place). It was a nice place, complete with cold filtered water (a luxury here) and a pile of clothes and whatnot left behind by previous volunteers. I made out like a bandit with a pair of pants, a button-down shirt, two sweaters, and a comfortable winter coat. Oh, and a bunch of books which I am looking forward to reading.

On the way back to the hostel, we intersected with Emily's group, and I joined up with them for dinner at a Cuban restaurant. This was the first time I got to be with Emily (she and her group had gotten to UB before I and mine had), so the two of us were fairly elated. The food was excellent, the drinks were scintillating though expensive, and the company was pleasant (the other people in Emily's group). We spent the rest of the night together, although we were forced to split up after breakfast the next morning (waffles with gellato, donchaknow).

Having promised to meet my group at the Mongolian National Museum after breakfast, I duly walked in the wrong direction for at least 15 minutes before turning around, and was equally duly late getting to the museum. I remember walking down the street and thinking to myself, “Come on, just look for something you recognize,” at which point the words “Fuck you”, spray painted in red on the side of a building, leaped out at me. Just like home.

[This last bit was written later after having unintentionally inhaled an extreme amount of paint thinner fumes.]

I did, however, eventually turn around and head in the correct direction, and met up with the remainder of my group. We toured the museum, and headed back to the hotel to meet up with our mikr (microbus) back to site.

The journey back may have been the most interesting part: before we got even 10 minutes outside of UB, we were held up by a flooded road. A retaining wall had broken, and the water gushed onto the street. When we were eventually able to ford the breach, we had a wake behind us which threw waves up to the windows and roofs of the smaller cars around us. It was pretty wild.

During the crossing, however, the other mikr carrying the remainder of our group apparently got a lot of water in the engine, and it broke down no fewer than three times on the way back. This resulted in that mikr fusing with ours (thankfully with about ten minutes left in the drive), meaning that there were no fewer than 21 people in that mikr, driver included. There were, officially, seats for 12. There's a saying in Mongolia about transportation: how many people can fit in this car/mikr/bus/taxi? One more.

MORE TO COME LATER I AM TOO ZONKED TO CONTINUE.