Regularity

August 22, 2015 [Eric wrote this one.]

I will attempt to compose entries on a more regular basis (i.e., weekly) now that we have consistent interwebs access. This one I wrote the other day, but not much has changed since then. Emily may also write a few entries from her perspective, which we'll post here. 

Also: Alex Rymarquis sucks eggs. He teaches other people how to suck eggs. His favorite thing to do is to suck eggs. 

Okay. So. We're in Uvs, now. We've been instructed to be as vague as possible as to our actual location (i.e., the city) in very public forums, so we won't mention that on the blog posts, but we're in a city in Uvs. It turns out we were informed correctly about the natural beauty. The mountains are my favorite part, so far; the light falls on the different faces and leaves others in shadow, putting the immensity of the things in a perspective that only the Sun can. It seems like this place hasn't seen much rain lately, though, as the ground is more yellow and brown than green, and the vegetation consists largely of random tufts of grass growing here and there amid low-lying shrubs and bushes. Trees are a rarity, which crushes my soul a little bit, but it's not unexpected.

Thus far, Emily and I have spent most of the time settling in. Our apartment is enormous, maybe even larger than the one we had in Lawrence. Size is not everything however, as we all know; water is heated by gas in this aimag, and the gas doesn't come on until Winter, which begins in October. So, while we do have running water, its temperatures are cold and you-might-lose-your-hand-to-frostbite cold. Also, and I don't know if this is a coincidence or predictable, but half of the apartment doesn't have lights. Not electricity, mind you, but lights, and lamps don't seem to exist here. As I write, for example, I'm sitting in darkness staring at the light bulb that is my computer screen. I've actually changed the background on the document I'm writing in to black so that my retinas don't get completely destroyed. Oh, and the toilet is in its own room which can only be described as broom-closet sized. The other day we woke up with no electricity or running water. Small inconveniences even when compared to the service of others in the Peace Corps, or even in Mongolia. I have to admit that, when the water goes out, I miss the hole-in-the-ground jorlon (outhouse) that I had become used to during training.

But hey, we have internet. Perhaps predictably, the first day we had internet access was spent almost entirely dicking around online. Today, though, we made lunch with two of our site mates after heading to a large market area to buy some necessities. This also included a rousing game of Catan which I was, as ever, one turn from winning.

The market has been one of my favorite things about this city (and Mongolia in general) so far. It's difficult to describe, but here goes: you walk in on a road that leads to a small parking area that would be equivalent to about ten parking spaces wide and maybe fifty spaces long. I don't mean to give the idea that there is any order here at all, though; there are cars parked all over the place, but it's highly random -- one horizontal, one jagged like a hastily ripped piece of cardboard. The outer limits on this parking lot are one-story shop buildings, most of which are crammed to the roof with whatever kinds of things that particular vendor is selling; clothes, appliances, cutlery, plates/cups/bowls, car parts, tools, flooring, fabrics, shoes, and other this-and-thats.

At the end of the parking lot, one dives into the heart of this place, row upon row of these one-story buildings, all similarly crammed with different things. There is a certain kind of order to the place, though; there's a section dedicated entirely to selling food, which evokes the stereotypical image of a tall white guy wandering among stalls selling fruits and vegetables – right now, it's potatoes, carrots, cabbage, onions and, if you're lucky, tomatoes, apples, and garlic – while tarps and fabrics hang over head to keep out the rain and, more importantly, the sun. The variety of foods is very limited (which makes one wonder how there could be so many stalls) and, at least to me, the most impressive features of these food stalls are the candy displays.

It's a cultural tradition here to bring a gift to someone's house the first time you visit (at least). Very often this is some sort of sweet (or vodka, but that's another story). Similarly, it's traditional to offer a guest some food, usually candy or candies, and some tea. Not to do so is considered very rude. It is then perhaps unsurprising that most stores carry at least five different kinds of candy, selling them by the kilo. The displays themselves often take up half of the display space, as the owners tend to rip off the top of the boxes the candy was shipped in, then set them up next to each other. The result is a 4x4 foot square of nothing but shiny, colorful wrappers. 

Anyway... the layout of this place confuses the holy hell out of me, especially considering that I have the sense of direction of a drunk mouse in a maze with no cheese to shoot for, but if you wander far enough into the section that is bordered by household goods on the right and clothes on the left [the clothes section has been, every time we've gone to the market, completely empty of customers, and is downright eerie in broad daylight], there's a large building (imagine half of a Wal-Mart) which is similarly packed with stores selling much the same kind of things.

You might be wondering how these various stores manage to stay in business, given that they're all selling the same stuff. The answer? I have no idea. My theory is that each store has one or two things that can only be gotten at their stores to attract the requisite number of customers to stay in business. Otherwise? I have no idea. The clothing stores, for instance: there are at least twenty of them in the abandoned, creepy alleyway, and they're all somehow still in business. It beggars belief.

In all, this is a nice place, though. The roaming packs of wild dogs don't seem to exist here, which I like, and the potholes which are characteristic of Mongolian roadways are conspicuously absent. The aimag just celebrated its 90^th anniversary this summer, and apparently did some serious upgrading to its infrastructure. 

So. Yes. 

Heading to site -- now with FOOTNOTES!

August 4, 2015

To begin, a special congratulations to Matt and Joce, and Taylor and Kelly on their respective weddings. We're extremely disappointed that we had to miss, but we will be around for many anniversaries and celebrations to come. Cheers to absent friends!

A lot has happened in the past two weeks, but I'll try to condense it as much as possible. First, Wilco came out with a new album. It's really, really good. You should give it a try if you're a fan of loud, noisy guitars and addictive hooks. I especially like “More...”.

Second, we had a big ol' picnic over the weekend. It was not without its controversy, especially in the planning stages. One of our Mongolian teachers and cultural facilitators made a lot of plans by him or herself with no consultation from virtually anyone else, and conscripted my host father into planning the whole thing. For example, this person told all of us to be ready to go at 6 a.m., but didn't show up until 6:40, claiming that that was when he or she said to be there. It wasn't. He or she also decided that it would end at 8 p.m. So, yeah.

Long story short, we went to a river, ate food, played volleyball, and drank Mongolian traditional vodka, which is apparently made from tarig, a Mongolian yogurt that is super tasty. The vodka is... well, it's... I didn't care for it. I got sunburned, and got to that special place where I was telling everyone I loved them. All things considered, it was nice.

More important, though: Emily came to visit this weekend! Granted, it was the last weekend before the final weekend (August 8 and 9), and she had to come with us to the picnic – which started at 6 and went until 8 – but we still had fun. She's a saint, that one.

This past week and this coming week (starting today, actually), I and several of my fellow PCTs traveled to Darkhan to plan a seminar for about 50 Mongolian English teachers. It gave us a chance to work directly with Mongolian teachers, which is apparently the main focus of our teaching endeavors. I neglected to mention this, but a big part of what we (the TEFL trainees) will do here is help to implement a new curriculum in Mongolia, transitioning from a Soviet style of education (lecture-based) to a more Western style with 'activities' and whatnot. Frankly, the activities bent is a bit out of my experience, and I don't necessarily agree with its effectiveness, especially on the University level. Nonetheless, Peace Corps people reading this blog, I am here to do a job, and I will do it with enthusiasm to the best of my ability. This is as censored as I can get on this one. 

It's confusing, I know. Even more so to me.

What else? Uhhhh mostly it's been studying language and teaching English classes and worrying about where we're going to live for the next two years (we still don't know). We all took what's called the “LPI” (Language Proficiency Indicator – I think I mentioned this in a previous post). The ranking system is fairly simple; novice, intermediate, advanced with each category broken into low, medium and high. Emily and I, for example, both achieved intermediate low, which is as high as anyone got (so far as we know). Most people got novice high, and the minimum to “pass” was the same. Suffice it to say that Emily and I are fairly pleased.

Everything is winding down, and it feels that way. We're excited to get to site, and that will likely be the next post we make. Until then, we send our love.

August 17, 2015

I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't the most interesting post; I want to get to everything, and my brain and body are wrecked from an illness yesterday.

At the moment of writing, I'm sitting in a college dormitory in Ulaanabator (UB) waiting for tomorrow, when Emily and I will fly out to our site, Uvs¹. A far-western aimag, Uvs is rich in natural beauty, sporting the largest lake in the country and a large portion of the Altai mountain range. It is also, apparently, one of the coldest aimags in the country, averaging -40 in late January/early February, already my favorite time of the year. It's also been one of the hardest-hit aimags where climate change is concerned, having demonstrated a 2 degrees Celsius increase since record keeping began ².

Em and I are very excited to live there – it wasn't where we were expecting to be placed, but we requested natural scenery, and knew we would be in a city. I'll be teaching at a college in the city and Emily at a secondary school, and we have both already met one of our counterparts (CP). The two of them speak very good English, and are very friendly, which is a relief. Uvs apparently also has reliable internet available, and we'll be living in a three-room apartment – with a refrigerator and a kitchen and running water and central heating! I suppose we lose a little bit of street cred for not having lived in a ger in -40 degree weather, but honestly, I'm okay with that. Emily seems to be, too.

We're in UB currently after having spent a few days going through more excruciating seminars in Darkhan, our training hub. This was after having said goodbye to our host families, but before being sworn in (which happened on the 15^th). Some of our colleagues stayed in Darkhan to travel to their sites, but most of us had to go to UB for more accessible travel arrangements. Emily and I are scheduled to fly out tomorrow, among the latest to depart, so from the 40-some Americans who were here, there are now something like 10 of us.

It's somewhat bittersweet to say goodbye to all of these people. Most of them are younger, and personally I have trouble making friends (a constant problem, as most of my friends and family already know). Nonetheless, these are mostly good people with their hearts and minds in the right place (even if one of them did use the not-at-all-a-word “irregardless” the other day). I feel privileged to have known them, and when Em and I complete our service, I'll feel honored to call myself a Returned PCV.

Yesterday was Emily's and my one-year anniversary, which is cool, except for my getting violently ill. Coming-out-of-both-ends ill. Still not feeling so hot, but it's better than it was. Regardless, my love for this woman has done nothing but grow, and the fact that we'll celebrate our first two anniversaries (possibly three, depending on our departure date) out of the country just reflects how lucky I am to have found her.

Swearing in was... nice. I don't know what else to say about that; it was a ceremony with a few speakers and some “cultural performances” including three speeches by some of my fellow PCVs – quick note, we're no longer PCTs, as in trainees, but PCVs, volunteers! – in Mongolian, a dance performed by one of the training groups, a song by a few other colleagues, and a stirring rendition of a traditional Mongolian song by one of the more vocally-gifted PCVs. The actual taking of the oath lasted, maybe, five minutes out of a total of about an hour and a half. Most of the rest of the time outside of the ceremony was taken up with photographs, some of which are already on Facebook.

A quick word about my host family: they were extraordinarily kind to me, and I'll never forget their hospitality, patience, and kindness. They were sad to see me go, and I was sad to leave them. They even gave me a mug with a picture of the five of us together³.

That said, Mongolian people are so unbelievably friendly and accommodating that it kind of became a burden, at times. I know, I know; this sounds like an interview response to that question where you're supposed to list your weaknesses but actually make them strengths, right? But seriously – constantly making sure that I'm eating, that I'm not bored or lonely, that I'm not sick, that I'm safe and sound, that I'm doing well in school, that I'm happy with the bed or the food or the country in general. It's a blessing to have someone watch out for you like that, but for my part, I've been on my own for years now, and the transition back to that sort of structured, controlled life was very jarring. 

What else? I don't know. Uh... yeah, I don't know. My brain is fried. Even Emily is passed out next to me, and it's only 3:15. We're looking forward to getting to site and getting to work, and I hope we can share some pictures with you soon. In the meantime, keep us in mind, and we'll do the same.

Oh, and Jaron and Matt and probably Alex: check out this band Haunted Windchimes if you don't already know them. A good song to start with is “Out with the Crow”.

1 You'll probably see me refer to this as “site” from here on out. I apologize for using jargon, but it becomes part of your vocabulary if you're exposed to it long enough,

2 Sorry, still no interwebs to give you a citation.

3Hilariously, Mongolian people absolutely refuse to smile in pictures. There were about ten pictures taken of the five of us, and in ONE of them, I sort of smirked instead of smiling. Sort of, as in the corners of my mouth were slightly upturned. That's the one they chose. They all look like they're angry about the whole thing.