Boy, Canadian Tire really IS a great store.

I've realized that some of the things that we, as Canadians, take for granted. First of all, you really can find anything you need at Canadian Tire. If you need camping gear, sports equipment, even boots, they are all available at Canadian Tire. Here, you have to wander around to find anything you want. Sometimes the Black Market is good, but there are about 4000 little shops.
More recently, I've set out to get a class pet. The class decided they want turtles, so I obtained an aquarium (with great difficulty). The only problem is finding the turtles. We are currently in the process of collecting some rocks to put in the habitat, and then we will add some water. Where the problem lies is that there are few, if any, pet stores in Ulaanbaatar. I can't figure out how so many students have pet fish, lizards, and turtles, if no one knows where to find them.
I also appreciate grocery stores, especially the megastores that Canada has. You can go and find a variety of any product you want. Sometimes you just want to buy some mustard. I have found some, but it took 3 stores and a couple of hours of searching to find it. The stores are very hit-and-miss on the products they carry. Spices and seasonings are another issue altogether.
Restaurants are another issue. While they don't cost much, you have to have 2 meals in mind. The first one, which they won't have, and the one you are actually going to order.
There are some advantages to shopping in UB. There are many little stores which all carry little things which are unique. You can find just about anything, but it's really just luck of the draw whether you find what you want.

Well Said, Cat.

Since Cat is notoriously bad with directions, I gave her a quick pop quiz. The conversation went like so:

Me: So, what direction are we heading right now?

Cat: North?

Me: No. North is that way. (pointing to my left)

Cat: West?

Me: No, east.

Cat: Well, if we were in Toronto we would be going west.

Me: Huh?

Manzushir Khiid?

After two crazy and hectic weeks, Dan, Andrew and I decided a little break was in order. After picking up a copy of the Mongolia Expat magazine, we saw an article about Manzusir Khiid (pronounced Manshir Heed), which is the ruins of an ancient monastery with Buddhist rock paintings. It is about a 7-8 hour hike from where we live, so we decided we would hike down, camp overnight and hike back.

On Saturday morning, we left at close to 10 am, and headed south. As we were leaving John K decided he would hike part way and head back. We travelled along the valley to the south and had a pretty intense climb to the peak. We reached the peak around 12:30 and ate lunch. After lunch, John decided he was going to head back, while the three of us continued on. not even 10 minutes later we were greeted with an incredible view. Following a few pictures, we continued on. We arrived at the top of a fairly decent descent, and decided to have a quick break, before heading down the hill. Just seconds into our break, Dan happened to look to the left and saw what we originally thought to be a deer. We realized shortly afterward that the were four, and they were actually young elk, rather than deer. The elk walk right up to us and started sniffing our packs before wandering off into the accompanying pasture. We took some incredible photos, and then after a few minutes, continued on into the field. We tried circling around, while getting many more spectacular pictures. As we reached the far end of the field, one of the females, took a particular interest in us, and began to approach rather quickly. We thought this was a bit odd, and tried to put some trees between us and the elk. The female faced off against Dan, and started circling the tree. He shed his pack to increase his mobility. It turns out that the elk didn't really like Dan's pack so much, and forced Dan and Andrew to the East, while I was forced West. Suddenly there were all four elk dividing us from each other.

The females started herding Dan and Andrew around, preventing them from retrieving the pack, while the male kept a close eye on me. I slowly put some distance between us while Dan and Andrew were forced back up the hill and off to the west. In the mean time, I watched the male start sniffing Dan's pack. One of the straps got caught on it's antler, and it took particular offense to this, and started attacking it. For close to an hour, the male kept lifting it up off the ground, and even took a full charge at the pack. Eventually, the male moved away, leaving it for dead. Unfortunately, I didn't have the best view, and could not tell how far the elk had moved. I laid in wait, testing nearby trees, as they seemed to be able to appear without notice, and thought I might have to make a hasty climb. After 30 minutes, I tentatively ventured forward, checking all directions after every few steps. I was able to get within 10 feet of the pack (which had been moved at least 60 feet by the buck) when John sent me a text message asking how we were doing. I hastily sent a reply saying "Dan had his pack attacked by an elk" and turned off my phone to avoid alerting the elk to my position. I quickly grabbed his pack, and returned to the spot that I had left my own. I tried turning my phone back on, when I realized I couldn't remember the necessary PIN code, and was now unable to communicate with anyone. Since it had been close to 2 hours since the attack began, and I hadn't seen the other two in well over an hour, I thought that they might be trying to get the pack, and they needed to know I had it. I made a quick dash across the edge of the clearing, and started to call out for my friends. Receiving no response, I turned and saw the buck only 20 feet away. I quickly put some trees between us, and stayed out of sight. I made the quick dash back across the field, when I heard Dan make "the call of the north" courtesy of Bob and Doug Mackenzie. As I ran for cover, I signalled to head down the hill. We regrouped at the packs, and made a hasty retreat down the hill. Unfortunately, down the hill was not where we wanted to be going.

When we reached the bottom, we checked our GPS and noticed the we were off course a little, but has some mountains between us and our destination. We continued along the beautiful valley floor for a while, when we encountered a German man on a BMW motorbike, who told us it was rough going to get to our destination. By this point it was already 4 pm. After climbing a small hill, we realized that there were several mountains in our way, and we elected to bail on Manzushir Khiid. Andrew remembered having been in the valley before and that there were some gers up the "road" a little ways. We decided to try for them, but were willing to set up camp if we couldn't get there before dark. After a couple of hours of walking, and dwindling daylight, we saw a ger camp in the distance, and made the trek forward.

We reached the camp just after 6, and thankfully, it was open for business. We discovered it would cost T25000 to rent a ger for the three of us (just over $20), and figured that was fine since it would have been T15000 for entry into Mazushir Khiid. We were brought beer, water and food (in that order) before looking to retire. We also attempted to call home in case word of the attack had spread to Dan's wife, Tina. We had brought a bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka as well, and were well into those as well. As we left the little dining room, Dan and I turned to find an older man holding Andrew's hand, and a bewildered look on Andrew's face. The man was enamoured with our beards, and invited us over to his ger, which was located next to the camp. We entered his camp to find his family very hospitable, yet embarrassed by his drunkenness. They fed us homemade biscuits and yogurt. We eventually parted way, after he spent some time singing about his love for Andrew, and mashing his face into Andrew's cheek. We prepared some food, cooked it on the stove and left it for morning. It was a pleasant experience communicating with so many people who spoke no English.

After a fitful sleep, we re lit the stove, reheated the food, and had breakfast. We thought we would head south to Zumoond, a town of about 17 000, and catch a ride to UB. As we were leaving, one of the camp staff told us that it was quicker to go over the mountain and we would find a road. We took his word for it, and we pleasantly greeted by a road on the other side. We reached said road, and walked for about 15 minutes when a man drove by, and gave us a ride to the main road from the airport. We gave him T1000 for his trouble, and decided to start walking home. We made it about 12 metres before we were offered another ride. We graciously accepted, and realized en route that it would have taken hours to get back home. We gave this gentleman a little cash, and had him drop us at the Zaisan Memorial.

The Zaisan memorial is close to our place, so we decided to climb the mountain. It was built by the Soviets to commemorate the valiant fighting the Mongolians provided during WWII. The memorial is atop a small mountain, and is all about Soviet superiority and its defeat of the Nazis and the Japanese (?). After Zaisan, we trekked home, which was only about a 10 minute walk.

Maybe next time we'll actually go to Manzushir Khiid.

The Use of a Horn

So, all of you back in Canada may understand the use of a car horn to mean one of two things. Either "Watch it, you're going to cause an accident," or, "Hey! I know you and want to get your attention."

Here, there are a few options as to what the use of the horn might mean:

1. "You are in my way, and I don't like it." honk honk (Used both when someone IS and is NOT supposed to be there)
2. "You are somewhere that I might want to be in the future." honk honk
3. "You are neither in my way, nor in a place I plan to go, but I want you to know that I'm here anyway." honk honk
4. "You are unable to move (or unwilling) and I feel that honking my horn is an adequate solution." honk honk
5. "I am passing you." honk honk
6. "I haven't honked for the past 30-45 seconds, and I fear that I might have forgotten how." honk honk
7. "I don't know what else to do with my hand while I'm driving." honk honk

This is just a sampling, as we find new reasons for horn honking everyday. It seems that there is actually little reason to refrain from using one's horn. It's actually become a source of amusement for us. It's right up there with the Mongolian need to punch every so often (see Dan's blog for that explanation)

End of the Week

So I managed to survive the first week. My class is an interesting bunch, but highly varied in both academic ability and in English. We kind of eased into the week, and I got some of my initial testing done to level the children. It appears I have much more of it to do, since some kids don't even know the alphabet yet, while others can read at close to a grade 4 level.

The kids here don't seem to understand certain concepts that are commonplace back home, such as keeping your hands off each other (although that one seems to be cultural, as people will just sit on your lap on the bus - seriously), stand and walk in a straight line, and don't talk to someone else while you are being spoken to.

Andrew, Terry and I are starting an American Sports Club on Tuesday. The list filled up in minutes. We are planning to start with baseball, then get into football, and maybe hockey, then back to baseball in the spring. We've kept sign up to the older kids, so we can actually try to have a baseball team. We're all pretty excited about it.

Outside of school, the T.A.s had a welcoming party for all of the new staff, and like all Mongolian get togethers, copious amounts of alcohol were present. After the party, some of us headed down to the Green Pub, which is really just a small bar outside that is just around the corner. Dan, Andrew and I had some lamb skewers that were marinated and then barbecued. It was, without question, the best lamb I've ever eaten in my life. Yesterday, Cat and I went into town, a forgot to get off the bus at the right stop, so we had to find our way back so we could get to State Department Store for a little grocery shopping. We got a little lost on the way, so it took an extra couple of hours to get where wanted to go. We noticed something was up when we had gone in a full circle. I eventually figured out where we had gone wrong, and got us back on track. Last night consisted of a quiet movie night at Dan and Tina's place, as we made good use of Colin Buster Video. Today, I went for a nice hike through the valley to the south, which had a beautiful little stream that tricked over and around a million rocks, then up a small mountain to eat a quiet dinner of tuna salad and fruit all alone. It was so peaceful and serene, that I might decide to do it alone more often.

Dan and the T.A.s

Andrew, me and Dan mowing down on our swords of lamb. That's my awesome Mongolian jacket I bought at the Black Market.

The sweet valley stream.

I call it "Old Man Rock"

The dinner table.

This story just HAS to be told.

I realize that I just posted a couple of hours ago, but since then I experienced the most "entertaining" bus driver EVER!!!

Cat & I decided to go enjoy a meal at American Ger'll (a clever pun that is probably lost on most people back home). After dinner, we hopped aboard the 33 bus which drops us at Zaisan. I imagine the thought process of the driver must have been, "I wonder if this gas pedal can get any closer to the floor?"

We are screaming down Chinngis Blvd, like a bat out of hell, we arrive at a bus "stop."

Here is the approximate translation of the exchange that takes place as the bus begins to accelerate again:

People at back door: "Hey stop the bus, we need to get off."

Driver: "Screw that, you should have gotten off when I didn't quite stop."

People at back door: "Please mister, we need to get off here."

Driver: "Okay...... NOW!!!!!" (slams on the brakes)


The only thing that was apparently going to slow down this bus driver was the President's police escort, which brought the bus to a stop, then a very tentative acceleration for the next 40 feet, then he kicked right back into Bat-Out-of-Hell mode.

You Never Know Where You'll End Up in Mongolia.

So this weekend didn't seem like much, but in retrospect, even the mundane chores of life contain some fantastic stories. On Thursday, John, Christina, Cat and I decided to hit up the Black Market (I never knew it was an established location). After much walking around, trying to find moderate essentials and some slight luxuries, we ended up with a fair amount of purchases. John and Christina had left early with some fabrics, whil Cat bought a humidifier, a robe, a jacket, and various other small items. I went for the bare necessities, getting a rug for my front hall, a microwave, a cd of modern Mongolian music and a rockin' traditional Mongolian suede jacket. We hailed a fake cab, since they cost substantially less than the real ones, and found that the driver spoke decent English. We found out that he is 20, married, and has a 2 year old child. He, like many others helped me with the pronunciation on the words for left (zun), right (borun), and straight (chigeraa). That night we went to Dave's Pub, an English joint for Quiz Night. THis is the only place you can be sure to meet other English speaking people.

Friday night, the lot of us took over an out-of-the-way Thai restaurant. I have now tried the Mongolian version of Chinese, Korean, Irish, and American, and have been to the German and English restaurants, but didn't eat while there. The food was good, and we decided to stop at Khan Brau (the German place) for a couple drinks. While were there a homeless man was selling postcards, so I bought one for 500 (stamp included), when he suddenly wanted me to buy 6, then 9, all because I wanted to see what he had. I never got to look at the selection, and ended up with some dancers that I have never seen. 10 minutes later, he was back trying to sell me more. The panhandlers seem to forget who they've hit up a lot. There are also random fireworks on some days. No one really seems to know why, but they are as extensive as our annual Canada Day fireworks in Sarnia. We figure they must just really love days that end with a 'Y' and go nuts on the celebration every few days.

Saturday was my easy night in. I went in to work for a couple of hours in the afternoon, then got a big haircut at Charming Beauty Hair Salon for about $6. Not a bad price for the best haircut I've ever had. We grabbed a quick bite at Grand Khaan Irish Pub and wandered over to Happy Shop to buy some $2 movies that are bootlegged and mass produced by the Chinese Army (seriously).

Sunday, I again went in to work for a couple hours. Terry and I decided to go for a hike up the Mountains to the immediate West of Zaisan. On the way up, we met some of the teachers from the International School of Ulaanbaatar. After a brief, but pleasant conversation, we parted ways, and we continued to the peak and ate a quick dinner of cheese, tube meat, bread and the greatest wine ever. This wine cost 2800 tugrug ($2.20) was 17%, and contained some kind of fruit, that we decided to call "Goldenberries." We packed up the rest, and after a steep descent, we happened upon some men drinking vodka just in the middle of nowhere, at the side of the road. They waved us over, and we decided this was an experience, we couldn't pass up. THe men offered us some vodka, and we accepted, as it is rude to refuse here. in return to dished out the rest of the meat and cheese from dinner, and the apparent ring-leader, Merbukht, chipped in some of the greatest bread I have ever tasted (I call it Mongolian Circle Bread). We chilled out for a little while with Inkhbut, Merbukht and their friend who Merbukht told me was drunk, and I was unable to figure out his name. Eventually his daughters had to come and drag him home. We were able to establish that they live near the ger camp, and have lived there for about a year. We returned home around 9, to the realization that we had just climbed a mountain and drank with some locals all on a whim. It turns out Dan, at the same time, was off herding goats with one of the neighbourhood goatherds.

Today was the first day of school. My class spend most of the day practicing lining up, since they prefer the "Mongolian line-up" which really just sonsists of a mass of people trying to get to the same spot first. The kids don't seem to understand why it's a big deal to just bugger off and do whatever they feel, like go out and run around the school yard, or just choose not to come in from lunch. Despite some disorganization, we figured things out, and the kids are pretty reasonable. Most of them have a grasp of English, but some still have no English skills at all.

I have 25 children, almost all of them are Mongolian, and the names are sooo difficult to pronounce. I have 1 boy from Tanzania, who is incredibly polite, and very bright, and a couple of South Koreans.

This boy of (I'm guessing) 4 is actually building this house.

Merbukht, cutting the Mongolian circle bread.

On the Mountain, overlooking UB, and with my new haircut.

From left: Drunk guy, Merbukht, me, Inkhbut.