It is now time to officially Colin's Mongolian Adventure. If you care to follow my adventures further, you can find my Indonesian experiences at colindonesia.wordpress.com where I will share my views and experiences of living on the outskirts of Jakarta as well as my adventures throughout the country.
Thank you to everyone who found the time to check out my experiences in Mongolia.
Bayarteh and Sain Yavaraa.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Bayarteh, Mongolia
There is one thing to be said about the late spring/early summer in Mongolia.... it'll make you fall in love with the country all over again. With only a week left before I leave this land for good, I find myself rather reminiscent and nostalgic about my time here. There have been some crazy adventures and slowly over the past two years, the completely absurd has become commonplace and often not even noteworthy.
Here's a brief glimpse of the past two years of Mongolia:
Elk Attack
Yes, you read that right. My first real experience with Mongolia came slightly more than a month into living here. Two friends of mine and I decided to go on an overnight hike to go to an old monastery that has ancient rock-paintings at the sight. A few hours into our hike, we ended up being confronted by four young elk - one buck, three does. At first they seemed curious, they just wandered away. When we followed them into the clearing, they changed their minds about us being harmless and chased us around for the next few hours. We eventually escaped the wrath of these beasts and found ourselves in some random ger (felt tent) camp, which was not even close to where we planned to go, where they fed us, gave us a bed to sleep us and provided plenty of beverage.
Gobi Desert
This one is particularly strong for me as I visited the Gobi (which is the Mongolian word for desert) on two separate occasions. The first time through was probably a bit more exciting because I had no idea what I should expect. There are so many unforgettable experiences from the Gobi. The glowing red cliffs at the break of dawn while standing in the middle of the Flaming Cliffs; Climbing the tallest sand dunes in the world - twice; riding a camel along the bottom of the dunes for about 3 hours longer than my rear-end appreciated; crashing in a family's ger for the night without warning and sharing vodka shots all night with the fathers; realizing that we bring more on a on-week trip through the Gobi than the people who live there own; drawing water from a well to give water to the flocks and herds of cows, goats and camels that would visit without a herder; being crammed into an old Russian Turgon with seven other people for as much as 8 hours a day every day for an entire week; going on not one, but two road trips where we didn't see anything that resembled a road.
Off-road Biking to Terelj
Terelj is a fairly large national park located about 70 km east of Ulaanbaatar. For March Break a small group of us decided to rent bikes to ride out there and back. Of course, I hadn't been on a bicycle since I was in high school and we didn't even remotely follow any roads. I got bitten by a rather ferocious dog chasing me, lost the nut on my back wheel and crashed with surprising grace. We rode about 170 km is 3 days and pushed myself to do something I didn't think I was capable of or even interested in.
The Rainy Season
The "Rainy Season" in Mongolia isn't really a season at all. It's about 2 weeks of continuous rain. Unfortunately, this is primarily a desert country and the city had no water drainage infrastructure to speak of. For 2 weeks, the city, check that, the country floods. Last year alone, over twenty families perished as their gers slid down the side of a muddy hill. Five people in the countryside were killed by rain (newspaper's words, not mine). On the positive side, a country that can look very brown, grey and uninviting for a large portion of the year quickly becomes green and full of life.
Eagle Festival
Once in a while it is worth braving the -40 degree temperatures in the winter to experience something unique. Last year, the Mongolian Eagle festival was moved from the West of the country to Terelj. Here we got to watch very large hunting eagles strut their respective hunting talents. One of the events involves a man releasing a live fox for some eagles to hunt. This was a little disturbing until we realized that the foxes were, in most cases, smarter than the eagles and more often than not got away.
Food
Mongolian cuisine is not wonderfully well known around the world. Right now most of you are thinking of Mongolian Grill, aren't you. There is basically nothing Mongolian about Mongolian Grill. Mongolian food involves a great deal of meat. This meat is usually supplemented by fat and noodles. Virtually every Mongolian meal consists of these same ingredients in one way or another. There is one exception - dumplings. Mongolians love their dumplings. I can live without the buuz (pronounced boze) - a small doughy shell with goat or mutton in the middle - and the bansh - a larger version of the buuz. The huushuur (ho-shoor), however, is magnificent. For my birthday this year, I told my students not to bring me presents. Instead, bringing my huushuur was more than welcome. I ended up with roughly 200 of them. They resemble a Jamaican patty, but the crust is a little more doughy, and the filling is simply beef and onion, but the seasoning is unbelievable. I still maintain that good huushuur would make the best after-bar snack ever. Since arriving in Mongolia, I have tasted the milk of five (yes, five) different types of animals. I didn't like any of them. Especially when they were fermented. For those of you wondering, they are cow, goat, horse (both fermented and not), camel (also tried it fermented) and yak. If there is one thing I miss about Canada, it's the milk.
While I can't convey every great memory, or the amazing people I've met while here, I'll leave you with this: If the opportunity ever arises to visit Mongolia, seize it. It is a beautiful and magnificent country that is still largely untouched but modern life. That being said, think twice before choosing to live her for an extended period. It is not a country for the feint-of-heart. It can be trying and difficult at times. Without question though, I will forget the hardships of this country and remember the beauty and adventure it brought to my life.
Mongolia, bayarlalaa, bayarteh. (Thank you and good-bye)
Here's a brief glimpse of the past two years of Mongolia:
Elk Attack
Yes, you read that right. My first real experience with Mongolia came slightly more than a month into living here. Two friends of mine and I decided to go on an overnight hike to go to an old monastery that has ancient rock-paintings at the sight. A few hours into our hike, we ended up being confronted by four young elk - one buck, three does. At first they seemed curious, they just wandered away. When we followed them into the clearing, they changed their minds about us being harmless and chased us around for the next few hours. We eventually escaped the wrath of these beasts and found ourselves in some random ger (felt tent) camp, which was not even close to where we planned to go, where they fed us, gave us a bed to sleep us and provided plenty of beverage.
Gobi Desert
This one is particularly strong for me as I visited the Gobi (which is the Mongolian word for desert) on two separate occasions. The first time through was probably a bit more exciting because I had no idea what I should expect. There are so many unforgettable experiences from the Gobi. The glowing red cliffs at the break of dawn while standing in the middle of the Flaming Cliffs; Climbing the tallest sand dunes in the world - twice; riding a camel along the bottom of the dunes for about 3 hours longer than my rear-end appreciated; crashing in a family's ger for the night without warning and sharing vodka shots all night with the fathers; realizing that we bring more on a on-week trip through the Gobi than the people who live there own; drawing water from a well to give water to the flocks and herds of cows, goats and camels that would visit without a herder; being crammed into an old Russian Turgon with seven other people for as much as 8 hours a day every day for an entire week; going on not one, but two road trips where we didn't see anything that resembled a road.
Off-road Biking to Terelj
Terelj is a fairly large national park located about 70 km east of Ulaanbaatar. For March Break a small group of us decided to rent bikes to ride out there and back. Of course, I hadn't been on a bicycle since I was in high school and we didn't even remotely follow any roads. I got bitten by a rather ferocious dog chasing me, lost the nut on my back wheel and crashed with surprising grace. We rode about 170 km is 3 days and pushed myself to do something I didn't think I was capable of or even interested in.
The Rainy Season
The "Rainy Season" in Mongolia isn't really a season at all. It's about 2 weeks of continuous rain. Unfortunately, this is primarily a desert country and the city had no water drainage infrastructure to speak of. For 2 weeks, the city, check that, the country floods. Last year alone, over twenty families perished as their gers slid down the side of a muddy hill. Five people in the countryside were killed by rain (newspaper's words, not mine). On the positive side, a country that can look very brown, grey and uninviting for a large portion of the year quickly becomes green and full of life.
Eagle Festival
Once in a while it is worth braving the -40 degree temperatures in the winter to experience something unique. Last year, the Mongolian Eagle festival was moved from the West of the country to Terelj. Here we got to watch very large hunting eagles strut their respective hunting talents. One of the events involves a man releasing a live fox for some eagles to hunt. This was a little disturbing until we realized that the foxes were, in most cases, smarter than the eagles and more often than not got away.
Food
Mongolian cuisine is not wonderfully well known around the world. Right now most of you are thinking of Mongolian Grill, aren't you. There is basically nothing Mongolian about Mongolian Grill. Mongolian food involves a great deal of meat. This meat is usually supplemented by fat and noodles. Virtually every Mongolian meal consists of these same ingredients in one way or another. There is one exception - dumplings. Mongolians love their dumplings. I can live without the buuz (pronounced boze) - a small doughy shell with goat or mutton in the middle - and the bansh - a larger version of the buuz. The huushuur (ho-shoor), however, is magnificent. For my birthday this year, I told my students not to bring me presents. Instead, bringing my huushuur was more than welcome. I ended up with roughly 200 of them. They resemble a Jamaican patty, but the crust is a little more doughy, and the filling is simply beef and onion, but the seasoning is unbelievable. I still maintain that good huushuur would make the best after-bar snack ever. Since arriving in Mongolia, I have tasted the milk of five (yes, five) different types of animals. I didn't like any of them. Especially when they were fermented. For those of you wondering, they are cow, goat, horse (both fermented and not), camel (also tried it fermented) and yak. If there is one thing I miss about Canada, it's the milk.
While I can't convey every great memory, or the amazing people I've met while here, I'll leave you with this: If the opportunity ever arises to visit Mongolia, seize it. It is a beautiful and magnificent country that is still largely untouched but modern life. That being said, think twice before choosing to live her for an extended period. It is not a country for the feint-of-heart. It can be trying and difficult at times. Without question though, I will forget the hardships of this country and remember the beauty and adventure it brought to my life.
Mongolia, bayarlalaa, bayarteh. (Thank you and good-bye)
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Ups and Downs
With only 6 weeks left, I had my first real robbery experience. It seems everyone ends up having at least one, whether it be a simple pick-pocket or an aggravated assault. While I got to experience the worst of Mongolia, in some ways I also got to experience the best on the same night.
It began on Friday night around midnight. I was leaving the bar to go home, but there wasn't a car to be seen, so I walked to the main road. Still, no cars. I walked along the road in the direction I was going waiting for a car to come by. While I was walking, I got a phone call from a friend. I stayed on the phone as I walked several blocks still looking for a car. Along the way, some guy comes up to me and starts talking to me in Mongolian, rather angrily and unnecessarily close to me. This continued for a couple of blocks while I was still trying to talk to my friend. Finally the guy seemed to get the hint and went away... or so I thought.
All of a sudden he came running up on me, delivering a blow to the right side of my head, breaking my thick-framed glasses. and knocking me down. I quickly realized that he had grabbed my phone during the attack (although knocked the battery and back-plate off). Knowing my friend must be freaking out and unable to call me back, I got up and ran at top speed after the guy. I caught him on a cross street, and tackled him, delivering a few right-handed blows to his face. He practically begged me to take my phone back. I'm not proud that I hit a man, but I feel justified in what I did.
After retrieving by phone, I had to go back and search blindly for my glasses (which I didn't know were broken yet) and the missing parts of my phone. It turns out an older man had watched the attack and gathered up my belongings - less the lens from the right side of my glasses - for me and brought them over. He also indicated that he thought I did a good thing by chasing after my attacker. I then thanked him and called my friend back who was now frantically looking for me. As I was trying to establish where to meet, my phone went dead again. I had mentioned another restaurant/bar I was near, but wasn't sure if she was going to meet me there or further down the road. The other problem is that I managed to hit my knee pretty hard on the ground during the attack, so walking was now excruciating. I met some other guys standing outside of the bar and they let me try putting my SIM card in their phone to call my friend, although their number was saved to my phone, not the card. They then began walking with me to try to find my friend. When the walking became too hard, they got me in a taxi to check the place I knew my friend had been. Eventually I got home, plugged in my phone and called back explaining what happened.
So, while a really crappy thing happened, which is what most people would remember from an experience like this, it is the two separate random acts of kindness that will stand out in my memory.
It began on Friday night around midnight. I was leaving the bar to go home, but there wasn't a car to be seen, so I walked to the main road. Still, no cars. I walked along the road in the direction I was going waiting for a car to come by. While I was walking, I got a phone call from a friend. I stayed on the phone as I walked several blocks still looking for a car. Along the way, some guy comes up to me and starts talking to me in Mongolian, rather angrily and unnecessarily close to me. This continued for a couple of blocks while I was still trying to talk to my friend. Finally the guy seemed to get the hint and went away... or so I thought.
All of a sudden he came running up on me, delivering a blow to the right side of my head, breaking my thick-framed glasses. and knocking me down. I quickly realized that he had grabbed my phone during the attack (although knocked the battery and back-plate off). Knowing my friend must be freaking out and unable to call me back, I got up and ran at top speed after the guy. I caught him on a cross street, and tackled him, delivering a few right-handed blows to his face. He practically begged me to take my phone back. I'm not proud that I hit a man, but I feel justified in what I did.
After retrieving by phone, I had to go back and search blindly for my glasses (which I didn't know were broken yet) and the missing parts of my phone. It turns out an older man had watched the attack and gathered up my belongings - less the lens from the right side of my glasses - for me and brought them over. He also indicated that he thought I did a good thing by chasing after my attacker. I then thanked him and called my friend back who was now frantically looking for me. As I was trying to establish where to meet, my phone went dead again. I had mentioned another restaurant/bar I was near, but wasn't sure if she was going to meet me there or further down the road. The other problem is that I managed to hit my knee pretty hard on the ground during the attack, so walking was now excruciating. I met some other guys standing outside of the bar and they let me try putting my SIM card in their phone to call my friend, although their number was saved to my phone, not the card. They then began walking with me to try to find my friend. When the walking became too hard, they got me in a taxi to check the place I knew my friend had been. Eventually I got home, plugged in my phone and called back explaining what happened.
So, while a really crappy thing happened, which is what most people would remember from an experience like this, it is the two separate random acts of kindness that will stand out in my memory.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Being Kept in the Dark
One of the the bigger drawbacks to living in a developing country, and Mongolia in particular, is the sporadic and sometimes even frequent loss of electricity. Now, we have all experienced power failures at one point or another. There is one small difference between a power shortage in Canada and one in Mongolia. In Canada, power outages occur because of inclement weather or because of a problem with a transformer, power line, or payment ability. In any of these cases, power problems are often predictable and cleared up quickly. Here, power outages happen regularly at unpredictable times and for unknown lengths of time. Worst of all, there is rarely any warning and they tend to happen to happen at some of the least convenient times, like around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, when I'm trying to do work and haven't quite gotten around to preparing for dinner.
Typically, these power outages last anywhere from three minutes (just long enough to frustrate you) to three days (just long enough to make you very poor), with an average of maybe 4 hours. Of course this doesn't apply to everyone here. Those who live in the heart of Ulaanbaatar rarely suffer this plight. Those of us who live on the outskirts agonize through the possibility of it happening at any time on any day. There is, of course a forgotten third group: those who live in towns outside of Ulaanbaatar. Unfortunately for these poor souls, their electricity is provided by Russia... but only for select periods of time. It is not uncommon for the whole town to have their power turned off for the night at 10 o'clock or earlier.
I must say, the latter group has one advantage over the rest of us - no indoor plumbing. How is this an advantage? (And I'm certain you asked). Now, to be frank, I don't fully understand Soviet engineering, but somehow they seem to have made every utility system completely dependent on the power plants. As a result, when the electricity goes out (and I'm still not convinced that it isn't some guy just randomly pushing buttons), I also lose the internet, water (except for the one flush left behind in the toilet - choose carefully), and in the middle of the frigidly cold winter, heat. This makes for a very dull and poorly lit night and on occasion, a rather cold one too. Suddenly, having a wood or coal burning stove in a felt tent with an outhouse somewhere nearby can seem very desirable. Especially when the power outage lasts more than a few hours.
The inconveniences really depend on the time of the outage too. An early morning outage means that an electric alarm clock won't work, so it is no longer a viable option. I now rely on a combination of a battery powered clock, my cell phone and a watch that is slowly gaining time. And have you ever tried to get ready for work with absolutely no running water? Trust me, not an easy task... although you're ready much more quickly. A shortage anywhere from eight o'clock in the morning to four o'clock in the afternoon means I have to try teaching with no electronic resources and no lights. As I mentioned, the water stops working, so this causes some interesting... problems in the washrooms. The other option is to lose power in the evening (not that we really have an option in the matter). This is particularly fun because i mean that the loss of power actually costs me money. Since I can't cook with my electric stove, nor is there any water available (and most meals require water in one way or another) and we don't have a barbecue on the premises, I (and everyone else) now has to order food for delivery. There is the other choice to go into town where they have power, but bear in mind that it gets dark here just before four o'clock in the winter, and walking in the dark and cold at that time is rarely an attractive option.
I like to believe that this hardship is forced upon me in the spirit of environmentalism. I know this isn't likely because few people here even consider putting their garbage in anything that resembles a receptacle designed for such a purpose. Still I kid myself. I mean, with the frequency of power outages and the areas they affect, they must be saving millions (of tugrug, not dollars). As one of my many affluent neighbours commented to me some time ago, "You can spend [an absurd amount of money] on a home and that doesn't even guarantee that you'll have electricity." Maybe not, but it makes me appreciate the little amenities in life a little more.
Typically, these power outages last anywhere from three minutes (just long enough to frustrate you) to three days (just long enough to make you very poor), with an average of maybe 4 hours. Of course this doesn't apply to everyone here. Those who live in the heart of Ulaanbaatar rarely suffer this plight. Those of us who live on the outskirts agonize through the possibility of it happening at any time on any day. There is, of course a forgotten third group: those who live in towns outside of Ulaanbaatar. Unfortunately for these poor souls, their electricity is provided by Russia... but only for select periods of time. It is not uncommon for the whole town to have their power turned off for the night at 10 o'clock or earlier.
I must say, the latter group has one advantage over the rest of us - no indoor plumbing. How is this an advantage? (And I'm certain you asked). Now, to be frank, I don't fully understand Soviet engineering, but somehow they seem to have made every utility system completely dependent on the power plants. As a result, when the electricity goes out (and I'm still not convinced that it isn't some guy just randomly pushing buttons), I also lose the internet, water (except for the one flush left behind in the toilet - choose carefully), and in the middle of the frigidly cold winter, heat. This makes for a very dull and poorly lit night and on occasion, a rather cold one too. Suddenly, having a wood or coal burning stove in a felt tent with an outhouse somewhere nearby can seem very desirable. Especially when the power outage lasts more than a few hours.
The inconveniences really depend on the time of the outage too. An early morning outage means that an electric alarm clock won't work, so it is no longer a viable option. I now rely on a combination of a battery powered clock, my cell phone and a watch that is slowly gaining time. And have you ever tried to get ready for work with absolutely no running water? Trust me, not an easy task... although you're ready much more quickly. A shortage anywhere from eight o'clock in the morning to four o'clock in the afternoon means I have to try teaching with no electronic resources and no lights. As I mentioned, the water stops working, so this causes some interesting... problems in the washrooms. The other option is to lose power in the evening (not that we really have an option in the matter). This is particularly fun because i mean that the loss of power actually costs me money. Since I can't cook with my electric stove, nor is there any water available (and most meals require water in one way or another) and we don't have a barbecue on the premises, I (and everyone else) now has to order food for delivery. There is the other choice to go into town where they have power, but bear in mind that it gets dark here just before four o'clock in the winter, and walking in the dark and cold at that time is rarely an attractive option.
I like to believe that this hardship is forced upon me in the spirit of environmentalism. I know this isn't likely because few people here even consider putting their garbage in anything that resembles a receptacle designed for such a purpose. Still I kid myself. I mean, with the frequency of power outages and the areas they affect, they must be saving millions (of tugrug, not dollars). As one of my many affluent neighbours commented to me some time ago, "You can spend [an absurd amount of money] on a home and that doesn't even guarantee that you'll have electricity." Maybe not, but it makes me appreciate the little amenities in life a little more.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Free Agency
This column will strike a chord with sports fans more than others.
As a sports fan myself, one thing I've always struggled with is the concept of free-agency. It doesn't seem so long ago that when a professional athlete signed on with a team, that was the place he would remain until they no longer had a use for him. In recent years we have seen many a player change teams for reasons we assume to be money.
As a non-athlete, I seem to be in a fairly unique situation where I have the opportunity to experience free agency. As an international teacher, I sign contracts for anywhere from 1-3 years at a time. As my contract comes up, I, like many professional athletes, feel the need to look into my options. This isn't to say that I'm giving up on where I am at the time. I recently signed a contract to work in Indonesia for two years. I was both ecstatic and gutted to have signed that contract. Gutted because I love Mongolia. It's people, culture and way of life still fascinate me. Leaving would inevitably result in cutting short this opening chapter into my life abroad. With that in mind, I am ecstatic because it is a new adventure. A place I don't know yet and will have the amazing opportunity to experience something new. With those things being a trade-off, I had to look at the other factors. There are a few that really tipped the balance toward moving to Indonesia. This opportunity will give me the chance to reunite and work with one of my best friends again. That is a factor that is amongst the most important. (didn't Scott Niedermayer sign on with the Ducks for basically that same reason?) Beyond that there are many perks, like getting to own a moped, and drive it year-round. The money is better, and I have better health coverage--something I actually have to worry about, both because I don't have a universal health-care system and because I tend to take risks that could leave me seriously injured. A last, but not least, rather than a single-bedroom apartment, I will be given my own two-bedroom house--perfect for parking my eventual fleet of mopeds and motorbikes.
As with professional athletes, some people are displeased with a decision to leave. For an athlete, the worst comes from the fans. Inevitably any player who chooses to leave one team for another becomes hated by the fans of his former team. For me, things aren't quite so bad. My "fans" are the 22 seven and eight-year-olds in my class, and to a lesser degree the other students I have come to know well in the school. Instead of receiving boos and verbal jabs from my fans and the media, I have to receive daily pleas and petitions for me to change my mind and stay.
What I'm trying to say is, I'm not leaving because I want out. I'm leaving because I see a better opportunity somewhere else. Don't feel bad professional athletes. I, as an average guy, understand why you choose free agency. And I get it, someday, signing back home just might be the thing I want the most. I wouldn't mind one of those multi-million dollar contracts though.
As a sports fan myself, one thing I've always struggled with is the concept of free-agency. It doesn't seem so long ago that when a professional athlete signed on with a team, that was the place he would remain until they no longer had a use for him. In recent years we have seen many a player change teams for reasons we assume to be money.
As a non-athlete, I seem to be in a fairly unique situation where I have the opportunity to experience free agency. As an international teacher, I sign contracts for anywhere from 1-3 years at a time. As my contract comes up, I, like many professional athletes, feel the need to look into my options. This isn't to say that I'm giving up on where I am at the time. I recently signed a contract to work in Indonesia for two years. I was both ecstatic and gutted to have signed that contract. Gutted because I love Mongolia. It's people, culture and way of life still fascinate me. Leaving would inevitably result in cutting short this opening chapter into my life abroad. With that in mind, I am ecstatic because it is a new adventure. A place I don't know yet and will have the amazing opportunity to experience something new. With those things being a trade-off, I had to look at the other factors. There are a few that really tipped the balance toward moving to Indonesia. This opportunity will give me the chance to reunite and work with one of my best friends again. That is a factor that is amongst the most important. (didn't Scott Niedermayer sign on with the Ducks for basically that same reason?) Beyond that there are many perks, like getting to own a moped, and drive it year-round. The money is better, and I have better health coverage--something I actually have to worry about, both because I don't have a universal health-care system and because I tend to take risks that could leave me seriously injured. A last, but not least, rather than a single-bedroom apartment, I will be given my own two-bedroom house--perfect for parking my eventual fleet of mopeds and motorbikes.
As with professional athletes, some people are displeased with a decision to leave. For an athlete, the worst comes from the fans. Inevitably any player who chooses to leave one team for another becomes hated by the fans of his former team. For me, things aren't quite so bad. My "fans" are the 22 seven and eight-year-olds in my class, and to a lesser degree the other students I have come to know well in the school. Instead of receiving boos and verbal jabs from my fans and the media, I have to receive daily pleas and petitions for me to change my mind and stay.
What I'm trying to say is, I'm not leaving because I want out. I'm leaving because I see a better opportunity somewhere else. Don't feel bad professional athletes. I, as an average guy, understand why you choose free agency. And I get it, someday, signing back home just might be the thing I want the most. I wouldn't mind one of those multi-million dollar contracts though.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Gobi, Second Time Around
I suppose this is a little overdue, as this trip happened back in October.
For our fall break, Jeff, Jen, Jonny, Megan, Gurgit and I took a tour of the Gobi. The first half was to be a similar experience as what I had the previous year, however, this year would find us turning west instead of east. Rather than a play-by-play of each day, I'll give you a "snapshot" view.
Just starting out, Jeff is drooling with anticipation.
Typically, the first thing to do is get gas. The blown tire on the bottom of the truck was a bit of a bad omen. We had our share of problems with the vehicle this year, including a near-accident in the first few minutes of the trip.
We stopped for a little hike and some lunch in the protection of this mountain. Our guide, Inga, told us it was bad luck to day the name of the mountain while in sight of it. It clearly made her nervous, so we didn't push.
Our first ger stay of the trip, featuring a 7 year old girl that was giddy playing cards with Jen and drawing pictures of each of us.
Because it was so cold, our van wouldn't start in the morning. Dawaa (the same driver as I had the year before) lit a fire under the van to warm it up. To keep from freaking out, we lent the family a hand in rounding up their goats for milking. I ventured in and grabbed them by the horns to line them up, while Jen and Megan tried their hands at the actual milking.
A hare hiding in the dirt. Megan and I were standing just 5 feet away and didn't notice him at all. Dawaa had to point it out to us.
Dawaa asked us all to get out so we could take pictures of him driving by.
We got up nice and early to see the Flaming Cliffs at sunrise. We were greeted by the silhouettes of a few camels. Jeff and I trekked about a kilometer over the the cliffs proper for the photo op of a lifetime.
The sun breaking the horizon.
We weren't disappointed.
Stopping for lunch in the middle of nowhere. It was warm enough to take the coats off for a little while.
Wildlife watching. Dawaa spotted a fox on the side of the mountain, so we stopped for some pictures. We saw a couple of foxes, some vultures, and a ton of tiny little gopher-like animals.
Picking our way down through the gorge at Yolin-Am.
We stopped to fill our giant canteens with the water from the stream. The stream doubled as a road. You have to ignore the fact that we just along this stream for about an hour before we decided to collect some of the water.
Most tours detour around these mountains. We went through them. This pass is barely wider than the Turgon. Jeff, Jonny and I got out to tape and photograph the van travelling through the gorge. It must have been funny watching the three of us running around to film the very van we'd been riding around in for hours and hours each day.
After surviving the very serious terrain in the mountains, the flat, open plains broke the van. I don't know a lot about cars, but as I understand it, the bracket holding the leaf-plates (suspension) snapped, so we couldn't drive anywhere without risking serious damage.
Looks safe doesn't it?
We had to keep warm somehow during our 2 hour wait while Dawaa magically fixed the van.
Possibly the happiest looking camel in the world.
Climbing the tallest sand dunes in the world. Jonny just charged up the 300 metre high dunes.
Snow on the dunes. Inga said she couldn't remember that ever happening before.
I mastered the sand dunes again.
We lost our radiator cap (van problem number 4 if you're keeping track), so we needed to get water to refill the radiator. Some camels came by for a drink, so Jen obliged while Dawaa (again magically) fixed the van.
Ovoos, they're everywhere.
At Kharkhorin, the ancient capital of Mongolia. This is inside the monastery. Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman visited this in their adventure mini-series "Long Way Round".
Jeff & I heated some water on our stove, and got to half-shower. We only really wet our hair, but it was so refreshing, and we even felt clean.
We were entertained in our ger with some traditional Mongolian music.
Tarmac. Glorious tarmac.
Chinngis Khaan believed that turtles were the greatest animal in the world because the could survive equally on land and in the water. There are four that protect Kharkhorin.
Penis Rock. Mongolians swear that it's natural. I have a hard time (no pun intended) believing that.
On the "road"
For our fall break, Jeff, Jen, Jonny, Megan, Gurgit and I took a tour of the Gobi. The first half was to be a similar experience as what I had the previous year, however, this year would find us turning west instead of east. Rather than a play-by-play of each day, I'll give you a "snapshot" view.
Just starting out, Jeff is drooling with anticipation.
Typically, the first thing to do is get gas. The blown tire on the bottom of the truck was a bit of a bad omen. We had our share of problems with the vehicle this year, including a near-accident in the first few minutes of the trip.
We stopped for a little hike and some lunch in the protection of this mountain. Our guide, Inga, told us it was bad luck to day the name of the mountain while in sight of it. It clearly made her nervous, so we didn't push.
Our first ger stay of the trip, featuring a 7 year old girl that was giddy playing cards with Jen and drawing pictures of each of us.
Because it was so cold, our van wouldn't start in the morning. Dawaa (the same driver as I had the year before) lit a fire under the van to warm it up. To keep from freaking out, we lent the family a hand in rounding up their goats for milking. I ventured in and grabbed them by the horns to line them up, while Jen and Megan tried their hands at the actual milking.
A hare hiding in the dirt. Megan and I were standing just 5 feet away and didn't notice him at all. Dawaa had to point it out to us.
Dawaa asked us all to get out so we could take pictures of him driving by.
We got up nice and early to see the Flaming Cliffs at sunrise. We were greeted by the silhouettes of a few camels. Jeff and I trekked about a kilometer over the the cliffs proper for the photo op of a lifetime.
The sun breaking the horizon.
We weren't disappointed.
Stopping for lunch in the middle of nowhere. It was warm enough to take the coats off for a little while.
Wildlife watching. Dawaa spotted a fox on the side of the mountain, so we stopped for some pictures. We saw a couple of foxes, some vultures, and a ton of tiny little gopher-like animals.
Picking our way down through the gorge at Yolin-Am.
We stopped to fill our giant canteens with the water from the stream. The stream doubled as a road. You have to ignore the fact that we just along this stream for about an hour before we decided to collect some of the water.
Most tours detour around these mountains. We went through them. This pass is barely wider than the Turgon. Jeff, Jonny and I got out to tape and photograph the van travelling through the gorge. It must have been funny watching the three of us running around to film the very van we'd been riding around in for hours and hours each day.
After surviving the very serious terrain in the mountains, the flat, open plains broke the van. I don't know a lot about cars, but as I understand it, the bracket holding the leaf-plates (suspension) snapped, so we couldn't drive anywhere without risking serious damage.
Looks safe doesn't it?
We had to keep warm somehow during our 2 hour wait while Dawaa magically fixed the van.
Possibly the happiest looking camel in the world.
Climbing the tallest sand dunes in the world. Jonny just charged up the 300 metre high dunes.
Snow on the dunes. Inga said she couldn't remember that ever happening before.
I mastered the sand dunes again.
We lost our radiator cap (van problem number 4 if you're keeping track), so we needed to get water to refill the radiator. Some camels came by for a drink, so Jen obliged while Dawaa (again magically) fixed the van.
Ovoos, they're everywhere.
At Kharkhorin, the ancient capital of Mongolia. This is inside the monastery. Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman visited this in their adventure mini-series "Long Way Round".
Jeff & I heated some water on our stove, and got to half-shower. We only really wet our hair, but it was so refreshing, and we even felt clean.
We were entertained in our ger with some traditional Mongolian music.
Tarmac. Glorious tarmac.
Chinngis Khaan believed that turtles were the greatest animal in the world because the could survive equally on land and in the water. There are four that protect Kharkhorin.
Penis Rock. Mongolians swear that it's natural. I have a hard time (no pun intended) believing that.
On the "road"
Monday, March 16, 2009
Keeping Up With the Times
This past weekend something remarkable happened. I went bowling. What's remarkable about this? Well, this is Mongolia's first bowling alley. Yes, the Mongolians have finally cracked the technology to allow its people to bowl (I think our nuclear secrets are pretty safe for now). It made me start thinking about the development of this peculiar city in which I live.
Mongolia has had three district periods of development that really capture the image of the country. The first of these periods was centuries ago, long before the time of Chinngis Khaan - that's Chinngis, not Ghengis. Mongolians are traditionally nomadic people, in fact, somewhere between thirty and forty percent of the country is still nomadic. The nomads live, almost without exception, in large felt tents called gers (often called yurts elsewhere). A ger is a circular tent with a wooden structure. The remarkable thing about these gers is that most people who live here in Ulaanbaatar still live in them. Anywhere else in the world these would be considered "slums", but here you find plenty of them mixed in with apartment complexes that sell the units for more than half a million American dollars. Outside of the city, it is far from rare to find solar chargers attached to banks of batteries to provide power. Even more stunning is the fact that at least half of these rural gers have a satellite dish. Living in a tent is not a curse, it's a practical matter, since these people pack up and move every three or four months. Keep in mind, they can take apart or build their house in a matter of a couple of hours, rather than in weeks or even months.
Skipping ahead a few hundred years, Mongolian construction was heavily influenced by the presence of the Soviet Union. In the early 1950s a massive amount of construction, where the first permanent buildings started to be erected. For the first time in Mongolian history, people were beginning to live in dwellings with multiple rooms. Unfortunately for Ulaanbaatar and some of the smaller cities (the second largest city only has a current population of 90 000) these are amongst the least attractive buildings ever built. They are also everywhere. Another drawback was the population explosion that this construction caused, particularly here in Ulaanbaatar, where the population has increased from 25 000 in the early twentieth century to over a million people today (to be clear, that means that over one-third of the population lives in this city). In addition to the horrible hideous apartment complexes, the city is also blighted by sets of asbestos-covered pipes that carry the hot water to all of the permanent structures. Of course the Soviets were unconcerned with appearance, so these pipes are all above ground, and actually create very imposing and bizarre looking overpasses over roads. They also make very odd U-shaped detours around any slight bump in the ground.
Finally, the country - which really means UB - is currently in it's biggest period of development. The only problem is that it doesn't appear that the city actually wanted to develop as there has been no preparations made whatsoever. Those who have facilitated the growth (private enterprises) never really took the dynamics of the people into account either. In my district, which is one of the wealthier ones in the city, there are currently 23 new apartment buildings under construction. Each of the resulting 200-plus new apartments will be sold for at least a quarter of a million dollars. The problem here is that this country doesn't have enough wealthy families to purchase these apartments. Cars have been imported from Japan (and yes, they are set up for driving on the left side of the road) and South Korea at an alarming rate, however; the only new road that is being built (in the entire country) is a 40 km stretch of road that leads and I kid you not, out into the middle of the desert.
I love that this country holds on to its traditional ways, but also that it embraces new ideas. I just find it odd that they seemingly reject the associated necessities that support the world they would like to believe Ulaanbaatar is. Imagine living somewhere that every person owns at least one cell phone when the entire country has never even had more that 200 000 land lines in its history. It's such a lovely mish-mash of the years 1208, 1954 and 2009.
Mongolia has had three district periods of development that really capture the image of the country. The first of these periods was centuries ago, long before the time of Chinngis Khaan - that's Chinngis, not Ghengis. Mongolians are traditionally nomadic people, in fact, somewhere between thirty and forty percent of the country is still nomadic. The nomads live, almost without exception, in large felt tents called gers (often called yurts elsewhere). A ger is a circular tent with a wooden structure. The remarkable thing about these gers is that most people who live here in Ulaanbaatar still live in them. Anywhere else in the world these would be considered "slums", but here you find plenty of them mixed in with apartment complexes that sell the units for more than half a million American dollars. Outside of the city, it is far from rare to find solar chargers attached to banks of batteries to provide power. Even more stunning is the fact that at least half of these rural gers have a satellite dish. Living in a tent is not a curse, it's a practical matter, since these people pack up and move every three or four months. Keep in mind, they can take apart or build their house in a matter of a couple of hours, rather than in weeks or even months.
Skipping ahead a few hundred years, Mongolian construction was heavily influenced by the presence of the Soviet Union. In the early 1950s a massive amount of construction, where the first permanent buildings started to be erected. For the first time in Mongolian history, people were beginning to live in dwellings with multiple rooms. Unfortunately for Ulaanbaatar and some of the smaller cities (the second largest city only has a current population of 90 000) these are amongst the least attractive buildings ever built. They are also everywhere. Another drawback was the population explosion that this construction caused, particularly here in Ulaanbaatar, where the population has increased from 25 000 in the early twentieth century to over a million people today (to be clear, that means that over one-third of the population lives in this city). In addition to the horrible hideous apartment complexes, the city is also blighted by sets of asbestos-covered pipes that carry the hot water to all of the permanent structures. Of course the Soviets were unconcerned with appearance, so these pipes are all above ground, and actually create very imposing and bizarre looking overpasses over roads. They also make very odd U-shaped detours around any slight bump in the ground.
Finally, the country - which really means UB - is currently in it's biggest period of development. The only problem is that it doesn't appear that the city actually wanted to develop as there has been no preparations made whatsoever. Those who have facilitated the growth (private enterprises) never really took the dynamics of the people into account either. In my district, which is one of the wealthier ones in the city, there are currently 23 new apartment buildings under construction. Each of the resulting 200-plus new apartments will be sold for at least a quarter of a million dollars. The problem here is that this country doesn't have enough wealthy families to purchase these apartments. Cars have been imported from Japan (and yes, they are set up for driving on the left side of the road) and South Korea at an alarming rate, however; the only new road that is being built (in the entire country) is a 40 km stretch of road that leads and I kid you not, out into the middle of the desert.
I love that this country holds on to its traditional ways, but also that it embraces new ideas. I just find it odd that they seemingly reject the associated necessities that support the world they would like to believe Ulaanbaatar is. Imagine living somewhere that every person owns at least one cell phone when the entire country has never even had more that 200 000 land lines in its history. It's such a lovely mish-mash of the years 1208, 1954 and 2009.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Homesick
One of the obvious difficulties about living so far away from home is that life somehow carries on without you. Hard to fathom, I know. For me, this isn't generally a problem. I actually have to make quite an effort to remember to call home to talk. It's not that I don't love Sarnia or my family, I'm just usually wrapped up in my life here that I forget to remember the good things about being home. I've always taken for granted that when I want to return (say... once a year) I will get to come home and enjoy it for a few weeks.
This year a little wrench or two got thrown into the mix. First off, I wasn't home for the birth of my first nephew. I was too busy enjoying a two-week vacation in Europe. (Did I just call my newborn nephew a wrench?) I tried to make up for it by mailing him his first ever piece of mail. So now he's got a postcard of Barcelona, mailed from London. This was all fine and dandy as my plan was to come home and spend as much time with him as I could.
I was handling that just fine, but now I'm missing out on attending my little sister's wedding. We all knew I wouldn't be able to make it back for a February wedding - I mean, how do you fit a wedding in when you do a tour of the Gobi desert, spend Christmas vacation travelling through England, Paris and Barcelona, and have booked a trip to Boracay in the Philippines? We've made the necessary arrangements to have me participate in the festivities. They acquired a mannequin, I filmed a speech, I booked a sick day (homesick has the word "sick" in it, so it counts), and the video link is... well... a work in progress. As I write this, the wedding is in its final preparatory stages, but will (knock on wood) be a resounding success by the time you are reading it.
This brings me to a randomly and loosely connected point. What is Family Day? I only know of this "holiday" because my sister choose it for her wedding day. I have only been gone from Canada for the past 18 months and already the country doesn't even celebrate the same holidays. Seriously though, what is Family Day? As I am a man of no country - Revenue Canada has declared me an emigrant, however; I have not immigrated to any other country - I get left out of the loop a little bit. What traditional celebrations take place? Are there online contests to create Family Day traditions? Seriously!! I have no idea what this holiday is all about (or why they had to choose a day so close to Valentine's Day).
To return to my original train of thought, I miss home. I miss my family, I miss my friends and I miss having snow when it gets cold. It wouldn't be so bad if I could spend time at home this summer, but since I'm moving on from Mongolia in June, I'll be starting a new job just 13 days after this one ends, and I have to travel travel to Canada and all the way to Indonesia in that time. Wait a second, why am I complaining? I'm moving to Indonesia.
My friends and family should be coming to visit me.
My friends and family should be coming to visit me.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Staying Warm
I cannot begin to explain how insanely cold it has been in Mongolia for the past week or so. As I write this, the temperature is -26, which is not the low for the day. We managed to get to a high of -21 today. There have been numerous occasions recently where it was below -30... and that's before factoring in the wind chill.
Sadly, the problem with such cold temperatures is that we don't get any snow. We have a grand total of about 1 inch of snow, and that is the accumulation of every snowfall since our first of the year in early October. It just seems so unfair that we get all the cold, but none of the good stuff that comes with cold, namely, snow.
Sadly, the problem with such cold temperatures is that we don't get any snow. We have a grand total of about 1 inch of snow, and that is the accumulation of every snowfall since our first of the year in early October. It just seems so unfair that we get all the cold, but none of the good stuff that comes with cold, namely, snow.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
How to Support Your National Economy
I kid you not, every word of this is true.
A couple of weeks ago, a rather large group of us went off to celebrate a colleague's upcoming birthday. We spent days preparing and somehow kept it secret. We departed at 9:00 with a full bus and travelled about 50 km to destination.
Finally, we arrived for one of the most highly anticipated moments in my life. We all sat around waiting eagerly when we heard the thunderous motor start up and the creaking metal hull of a 1980s T-54 Soviet tank came out from behind the rather easily penetrable wall. That's right, a tank. We we not here to just look at this tank, no, we were here to DRIVE this tank.
How does one drive a tank? First you need to have a friend. This friend needs to be close, personal friends with a minister of defense. This minister of defense should ideally be in a developing country. This developing country should have little money for national defence. You should have about $200 of disposable cash. And finally, you need to know how to drive a stick shift.
I, of course, do NOT know how to drive a stick shift. Yes, my dad gave me one lesson a couple of years ago, but I really did not know what I was doing. Also, tanks don't have steering wheels. They have two levers. one for turning right and one for turning left. As I was faking knowing how to drive a stick shift, I quickly realized that I only have two hands, but three levers to manoeuvre. As I got in, I was told that it needs a good amount of gas for it not to stall. Keeping this in mind, I hammered the gas as I lifted off the clutch (and I didn't even stall it). The result of this? I managed to do a peelout in a tank. To put this in perspective, tanks are specifically designed to not have this happen. Their treads are designed for maximum traction, and we were on a dirt road. One other thing to keep in mind, tanks don't have windscreens. You watch where you are going by peering through a single one-by-four inch periscope. Talk about blind spots.
While we were driving along this remote and secluded road, we of course encountered a passing car. I couldn't help but wonder what would be my first thoughts when I saw a rather large weapon driving toward me, clearly being piloted by people who were not even remotely qualified to operate it.
As if driving a tank wasn't enough, we felt it necessary to shoot multiple firearms. Now, I'm not a gun enthusiast, nor do I support gun violence, so let's just call this.... firearm entertainment. I opted out of the rapid-fire machine gun, but to be honest it did look like a lot of fun. I first chose to fire eight rounds from a 9mm Makarov Pistol at a distance of about 20 feet. The fake guy (read target) I was firing at, was not likely very impressed. My first round was awfully errant, and I was clearly not ready for that much recoil. Of my next six shots, I managed to hit his ear, and wing him in the shoulder. With one shot left, I really angered this fake guy. You know that little button on top of ball caps? If he was wearing one, I would have hit that, and not his head. This is also where a metal crossbar happened to be, so the bullet ricocheted half way back to me.
Next up, the AK47. Surprisingly, the handgun makes more noise. I got 30 rounds, and managed to not hit a single target (all of which were 200 to 500 feet away). After finishing my turn, I asked my good friend Jeff to take a picture of me. Not thinking that I had just finished firing this weapon, i allowed my hand to grab the barrel. Bad idea. Not that it's a huge surprise, but those barrels get hot. I mean burn-your-hand-instantly kind of hot.
Finally I got my chance at the one weapon I truly wanted to fire - the Dragonov Sniper Rifle. Not to brag, but I did hit 2 targets in my ten rounds. Once again my arch nemesis, recoil, got me again. This recoil was not like the pistol. This rifle kicks back about 4 inches, allowing it to hit me right in the eye.
To cap off our day, one of group decided to splurge and pay to fire an RPG. I learned that RPG stands for rocket powered grenade. And rocket powered it is. This thing has such a punch that there is a shockwave that is strong enough to knock people over that are standing 20 feet away!
What is clearly important to remember about this whole trip is that it was a humanitarian outing. We can't just let the Russians or the Chinese invade our Mongolian friends. So it is our duty to drive their tanks and shoot their guns to help fund their military.
A couple of weeks ago, a rather large group of us went off to celebrate a colleague's upcoming birthday. We spent days preparing and somehow kept it secret. We departed at 9:00 with a full bus and travelled about 50 km to destination.
Finally, we arrived for one of the most highly anticipated moments in my life. We all sat around waiting eagerly when we heard the thunderous motor start up and the creaking metal hull of a 1980s T-54 Soviet tank came out from behind the rather easily penetrable wall. That's right, a tank. We we not here to just look at this tank, no, we were here to DRIVE this tank.
How does one drive a tank? First you need to have a friend. This friend needs to be close, personal friends with a minister of defense. This minister of defense should ideally be in a developing country. This developing country should have little money for national defence. You should have about $200 of disposable cash. And finally, you need to know how to drive a stick shift.
I, of course, do NOT know how to drive a stick shift. Yes, my dad gave me one lesson a couple of years ago, but I really did not know what I was doing. Also, tanks don't have steering wheels. They have two levers. one for turning right and one for turning left. As I was faking knowing how to drive a stick shift, I quickly realized that I only have two hands, but three levers to manoeuvre. As I got in, I was told that it needs a good amount of gas for it not to stall. Keeping this in mind, I hammered the gas as I lifted off the clutch (and I didn't even stall it). The result of this? I managed to do a peelout in a tank. To put this in perspective, tanks are specifically designed to not have this happen. Their treads are designed for maximum traction, and we were on a dirt road. One other thing to keep in mind, tanks don't have windscreens. You watch where you are going by peering through a single one-by-four inch periscope. Talk about blind spots.
While we were driving along this remote and secluded road, we of course encountered a passing car. I couldn't help but wonder what would be my first thoughts when I saw a rather large weapon driving toward me, clearly being piloted by people who were not even remotely qualified to operate it.
As if driving a tank wasn't enough, we felt it necessary to shoot multiple firearms. Now, I'm not a gun enthusiast, nor do I support gun violence, so let's just call this.... firearm entertainment. I opted out of the rapid-fire machine gun, but to be honest it did look like a lot of fun. I first chose to fire eight rounds from a 9mm Makarov Pistol at a distance of about 20 feet. The fake guy (read target) I was firing at, was not likely very impressed. My first round was awfully errant, and I was clearly not ready for that much recoil. Of my next six shots, I managed to hit his ear, and wing him in the shoulder. With one shot left, I really angered this fake guy. You know that little button on top of ball caps? If he was wearing one, I would have hit that, and not his head. This is also where a metal crossbar happened to be, so the bullet ricocheted half way back to me.
Next up, the AK47. Surprisingly, the handgun makes more noise. I got 30 rounds, and managed to not hit a single target (all of which were 200 to 500 feet away). After finishing my turn, I asked my good friend Jeff to take a picture of me. Not thinking that I had just finished firing this weapon, i allowed my hand to grab the barrel. Bad idea. Not that it's a huge surprise, but those barrels get hot. I mean burn-your-hand-instantly kind of hot.
Finally I got my chance at the one weapon I truly wanted to fire - the Dragonov Sniper Rifle. Not to brag, but I did hit 2 targets in my ten rounds. Once again my arch nemesis, recoil, got me again. This recoil was not like the pistol. This rifle kicks back about 4 inches, allowing it to hit me right in the eye.
To cap off our day, one of group decided to splurge and pay to fire an RPG. I learned that RPG stands for rocket powered grenade. And rocket powered it is. This thing has such a punch that there is a shockwave that is strong enough to knock people over that are standing 20 feet away!
What is clearly important to remember about this whole trip is that it was a humanitarian outing. We can't just let the Russians or the Chinese invade our Mongolian friends. So it is our duty to drive their tanks and shoot their guns to help fund their military.
Da da da da duh. Da da da da duuh.
Firing the Dragonov Rifle
The RPG
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Going For A Ride
I am quite proud of the fact that in my 27 years on this planet, the closest I have come to owning a car was when I rented one for 2 weeks this past summer. Unfortunately, lacking such a possession means that transportation can be a bit of an issue at times. Since my apartment is on the southern-most part of the city, getting into or out of town can be a bit of an adventure. Here, I shall break down most of the possible options.
Option 1: The Heel-Toe Express
This mode of transportation is possibly the most reliable. It is a much better option when walking from home to town, as the entire trip is downhill. Although, if returning home by walking, it is possible to enjoy a nice tall can of adult beverage along the way, as drinking in public is hardly discouraged. This mode of transportation has a few downfalls, however. It is usually the slowest way to get from one place to another, taking approximately one hour. If that weren't enough, there are more than a few of what you can call potholes, but I prefer the term craters (also, at least two holes in the sidewalk that crosses the bridge over the Tuul River). Finally, walking is really limited to the May-September range, as temperatures start to dip below freezing in October, and drop well below -35 in the winter.
Option 2: The Bus
The bus has one splendid advantage, it costs 400 Tugrug (about 37 cents) to ride. The ride is heated in the winter, and one doesn't have to walk. There are a few general drawbacks to the bus. Not the least of which is that you are so packed in, you begin to envy a canned sardine for the amount of space allotted to it. There are two types of bus rides in Ulaanbaatar. I dub the first of these "The Dead Mule". This ride takes so long it can actually be faster to walk.... seriously. the bus runs mostly on the power of gravity, which doesn't help very much when it takes frequent breaks for up to 5 min. to wait for every possible passenger, even though there's another bus just 150 meters behind. The second type of bus ride is known as the "Bat Out of Hell" ride. This driver has a death wish, passing every car on the road, and failing to even come to a complete stop at any of it's scheduled bus stops. I have twice been on a bus that had to detour to a gas station, and even once had to help push the bus to get there.
Of course, buses aren't nearly as well organized in Ulaanbaatar as, say, anywhere in North America. To begin with, there is no maximum capacity. I have had, much to my dismay on several occasions, another individual sit on my lap, or decide to have me hold their item (parcel, box, giant bag of firewood, etc.). Also, you don't exactly pay as you get on the bus. You simply board the bus, and wait for someone to come and collect your toll. Also, if you have to transfer, that will cost you an additional 400 tugrug.
Option 3: The Real Taxi
There are 2 types of taxis here. The metered taxi (Real Taxi) and then there's the fake taxi... I'll get to that in a minute.
A metered taxi is actually one of the worst possible options for someone who lives here. If you are visiting, not such a bad choice. I have not yet met a real taxi driver who speaks a lick of English. Thankfully, I have learned a limited amount of Mongolian. Unfortunately, as a foreigner, I get charged the White Man's price. This is roughly 5 times the cost that a Mongolian would get charged. On the plus side, they do actually take the best possible route, and know where pretty much anything is. Also they are excellent drivers, and handle the chaotic traffic with immense skill.
Option 4: The Fake Taxi
This is my preferred means of transportation. To be clear, a fake taxi is not a taxi at all. It is actually just some random individual who decides to give you a ride in exchange for money. This is a much cheaper option than a real taxi. To hail a fake taxi, one simply has to stand at the side of the road, and put their arm out. Remember to keep you arm below your shoulder or no one will stop.
Predicting who will pick you up is not an exact science, but over time you start to see some probabilities. The more expensive a car is, the less likely you are to be picked up. Rarely a car with two occupants will ever stop. The less likely a vehicle is to survive the next bump in the road (and there are many), the greater your chances are to have a ride. I have on several occasions been in a car that has run out of gas just a couple of blocks from where I got in. These are not hard and fast rules, as I have been in several Mercedes, and relatively new Honda.... um I'm not sure what the name of them are, but they are about the size and shape of a refrigerator box. There's also a bit of a guessing game. AS we are often out in groups of 3 or more, someone has to take the front seat. As the person who tends to speak and understand Mongolian the best of my compadres, guess who gets this privilege. Since all cars are imported directly from another country, many of the vehicles come from the roads of Japan. Mongolians don't drive on the left side of the road, so this means jumping into traffic to enter the car.
I have met many an excellent driver who gets us to our destination without incident or fear for my life. Many are very honest about the cost of the ride (about 45 cents/km). On the other hand there is a completely different type of driver. This driver is in a big rush. Somehow they always seem to drive some sort of Japanese car, which is a very important aspect to this ride. Let me draw you a picture.
You get into the car (in traffic since the door is on the left side of the car). You discover the driver speaks a decent amount of English, as many young people do. This is of little advantage once the ride begins. The driver slams the gas pedal to the floor, crushing you into the the soft faux-fur seat cover. All of a sudden, you start thinking about every mistake you ever made in life., and how this seems to be your punishment for the collection. There is no longer anything that resembles a rule of the road. Finally you see a red light coming, and think "Here's my chance to get out." No dice. He's not stopping. He pushes his way through the cross traffic, which is moving at a whopping 4 km/h. After you think you need to replace your pants for the fourth time, it gets better. The driver starts entering oncoming traffic.... at 70 km/h. Of course, only half of the car is actually in oncoming traffic, as a 2 lane artery can accommodate up to 3.5 cars across... apparently the lines are only there to show the direction of traffic. The most terrifying part of half of the car going into the wrong lane of traffic is that it is YOUR side of the car that is facing the rushing automobiles. Just when you thought you could take no more, he starts making left or right hand turns across 2 lanes of traffic without even slowing down. When you finally arrive at your destination, you are prepared to pay just about anything for him delivering you alive. I love these rides.
On a side note, a friend has asked that I mention that we had to cancel recess at school due to an invasion of horses.
Option 1: The Heel-Toe Express
This mode of transportation is possibly the most reliable. It is a much better option when walking from home to town, as the entire trip is downhill. Although, if returning home by walking, it is possible to enjoy a nice tall can of adult beverage along the way, as drinking in public is hardly discouraged. This mode of transportation has a few downfalls, however. It is usually the slowest way to get from one place to another, taking approximately one hour. If that weren't enough, there are more than a few of what you can call potholes, but I prefer the term craters (also, at least two holes in the sidewalk that crosses the bridge over the Tuul River). Finally, walking is really limited to the May-September range, as temperatures start to dip below freezing in October, and drop well below -35 in the winter.
Option 2: The Bus
The bus has one splendid advantage, it costs 400 Tugrug (about 37 cents) to ride. The ride is heated in the winter, and one doesn't have to walk. There are a few general drawbacks to the bus. Not the least of which is that you are so packed in, you begin to envy a canned sardine for the amount of space allotted to it. There are two types of bus rides in Ulaanbaatar. I dub the first of these "The Dead Mule". This ride takes so long it can actually be faster to walk.... seriously. the bus runs mostly on the power of gravity, which doesn't help very much when it takes frequent breaks for up to 5 min. to wait for every possible passenger, even though there's another bus just 150 meters behind. The second type of bus ride is known as the "Bat Out of Hell" ride. This driver has a death wish, passing every car on the road, and failing to even come to a complete stop at any of it's scheduled bus stops. I have twice been on a bus that had to detour to a gas station, and even once had to help push the bus to get there.
Of course, buses aren't nearly as well organized in Ulaanbaatar as, say, anywhere in North America. To begin with, there is no maximum capacity. I have had, much to my dismay on several occasions, another individual sit on my lap, or decide to have me hold their item (parcel, box, giant bag of firewood, etc.). Also, you don't exactly pay as you get on the bus. You simply board the bus, and wait for someone to come and collect your toll. Also, if you have to transfer, that will cost you an additional 400 tugrug.
Option 3: The Real Taxi
There are 2 types of taxis here. The metered taxi (Real Taxi) and then there's the fake taxi... I'll get to that in a minute.
A metered taxi is actually one of the worst possible options for someone who lives here. If you are visiting, not such a bad choice. I have not yet met a real taxi driver who speaks a lick of English. Thankfully, I have learned a limited amount of Mongolian. Unfortunately, as a foreigner, I get charged the White Man's price. This is roughly 5 times the cost that a Mongolian would get charged. On the plus side, they do actually take the best possible route, and know where pretty much anything is. Also they are excellent drivers, and handle the chaotic traffic with immense skill.
Option 4: The Fake Taxi
This is my preferred means of transportation. To be clear, a fake taxi is not a taxi at all. It is actually just some random individual who decides to give you a ride in exchange for money. This is a much cheaper option than a real taxi. To hail a fake taxi, one simply has to stand at the side of the road, and put their arm out. Remember to keep you arm below your shoulder or no one will stop.
Predicting who will pick you up is not an exact science, but over time you start to see some probabilities. The more expensive a car is, the less likely you are to be picked up. Rarely a car with two occupants will ever stop. The less likely a vehicle is to survive the next bump in the road (and there are many), the greater your chances are to have a ride. I have on several occasions been in a car that has run out of gas just a couple of blocks from where I got in. These are not hard and fast rules, as I have been in several Mercedes, and relatively new Honda.... um I'm not sure what the name of them are, but they are about the size and shape of a refrigerator box. There's also a bit of a guessing game. AS we are often out in groups of 3 or more, someone has to take the front seat. As the person who tends to speak and understand Mongolian the best of my compadres, guess who gets this privilege. Since all cars are imported directly from another country, many of the vehicles come from the roads of Japan. Mongolians don't drive on the left side of the road, so this means jumping into traffic to enter the car.
I have met many an excellent driver who gets us to our destination without incident or fear for my life. Many are very honest about the cost of the ride (about 45 cents/km). On the other hand there is a completely different type of driver. This driver is in a big rush. Somehow they always seem to drive some sort of Japanese car, which is a very important aspect to this ride. Let me draw you a picture.
You get into the car (in traffic since the door is on the left side of the car). You discover the driver speaks a decent amount of English, as many young people do. This is of little advantage once the ride begins. The driver slams the gas pedal to the floor, crushing you into the the soft faux-fur seat cover. All of a sudden, you start thinking about every mistake you ever made in life., and how this seems to be your punishment for the collection. There is no longer anything that resembles a rule of the road. Finally you see a red light coming, and think "Here's my chance to get out." No dice. He's not stopping. He pushes his way through the cross traffic, which is moving at a whopping 4 km/h. After you think you need to replace your pants for the fourth time, it gets better. The driver starts entering oncoming traffic.... at 70 km/h. Of course, only half of the car is actually in oncoming traffic, as a 2 lane artery can accommodate up to 3.5 cars across... apparently the lines are only there to show the direction of traffic. The most terrifying part of half of the car going into the wrong lane of traffic is that it is YOUR side of the car that is facing the rushing automobiles. Just when you thought you could take no more, he starts making left or right hand turns across 2 lanes of traffic without even slowing down. When you finally arrive at your destination, you are prepared to pay just about anything for him delivering you alive. I love these rides.
On a side note, a friend has asked that I mention that we had to cancel recess at school due to an invasion of horses.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Hustai
This past weekend, a group of us went out to Hustai National park to see the wild Przewalski (one of the most difficult words to spell in the world) horses. The park is located about 100km west of Ulaanbaatar, yet the drive is close to two and a half hours. It was a nice change of pace to get out of the city and experience some of the Mongolia I truly love. It was also our first trip out of the city this year. Thankfully, we got it in before the snow came.
We arrived and promptly ate a lunch with large pieces of fat in it. After this, our driver burned through the park in an apparent attempt to prevent any of us from seeing anything. When we finally did stop, we watched 6 wild horses stand and graze. Not exactly the exciting adventure we were promised. We returned to the tourist camp at the gate, and a few of us decided to go for a ride on the horses.
Here are a few pictures and videos from the excursion:
Paul, the intrepid nature photographer
Jen on her not-so-high horse.
The Wild horses Mongolian Traffic Jam
Paul was forbidden from driving his own horse.
We arrived and promptly ate a lunch with large pieces of fat in it. After this, our driver burned through the park in an apparent attempt to prevent any of us from seeing anything. When we finally did stop, we watched 6 wild horses stand and graze. Not exactly the exciting adventure we were promised. We returned to the tourist camp at the gate, and a few of us decided to go for a ride on the horses.
Here are a few pictures and videos from the excursion:
Paul, the intrepid nature photographer
Jen on her not-so-high horse.
The Wild horses Mongolian Traffic Jam
Paul was forbidden from driving his own horse.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Me Fail English? That's Unpossible!
As some of you may be aware, I am in Mongolia, teaching at an English language school. While few of my entries focus on things that deal directly with my teaching experiences, I have decided to make an exception.
For a little background, I teach a 2nd Grade class of 21 students. As with many international teaching positions, the student whom I teach have a fairly tenuous grasp of the English language. An unfortunate side effect of this is that my own abilities in speaking English have slipped somewhat.
Since many of my students are rather... active, I often find myself having to redirect their attention. The other day, during one of our activities, I found one of my students doing some bizarre combination of a somersault and a headstand. In response, I asked the child (with no exaggeration) "Who is your doing?"
Allow me to break do this question for you.
Who: In English, a word often used to ask about which person is being referenced. In this context, it is used to mean "the thing in question." Normally, one might opt to use the word WHAT in its place.
Is: A word that implies existence in a third party. Here, it is used in a similar context, but in a second party reference. One may normally select the word ARE in a sentence such as this.
Your: Almost exclusively used to imply possession by you. In this instance, it is designed to create a second person as the object of the sentence. I suppose the word YOU may be better qualified for this sentence.
Doing: The only word in the question that is used correctly, however, it seems to carry a slightly irregular meaning do to the choice of the previous three words.
Sadly, these experiences seem to be increasing in frequency, which may or may not defeat the purpose of instructing the students in English. It also seems that the meanings of my sentences are becoming far more ambiguous. I can only hope that in the future, I can correctly use a higher percentage of the words in my sentences. At least I got 1 out of 4 right.... 25%.... not the greatest success rate.
For a little background, I teach a 2nd Grade class of 21 students. As with many international teaching positions, the student whom I teach have a fairly tenuous grasp of the English language. An unfortunate side effect of this is that my own abilities in speaking English have slipped somewhat.
Since many of my students are rather... active, I often find myself having to redirect their attention. The other day, during one of our activities, I found one of my students doing some bizarre combination of a somersault and a headstand. In response, I asked the child (with no exaggeration) "Who is your doing?"
Allow me to break do this question for you.
Who: In English, a word often used to ask about which person is being referenced. In this context, it is used to mean "the thing in question." Normally, one might opt to use the word WHAT in its place.
Is: A word that implies existence in a third party. Here, it is used in a similar context, but in a second party reference. One may normally select the word ARE in a sentence such as this.
Your: Almost exclusively used to imply possession by you. In this instance, it is designed to create a second person as the object of the sentence. I suppose the word YOU may be better qualified for this sentence.
Doing: The only word in the question that is used correctly, however, it seems to carry a slightly irregular meaning do to the choice of the previous three words.
Sadly, these experiences seem to be increasing in frequency, which may or may not defeat the purpose of instructing the students in English. It also seems that the meanings of my sentences are becoming far more ambiguous. I can only hope that in the future, I can correctly use a higher percentage of the words in my sentences. At least I got 1 out of 4 right.... 25%.... not the greatest success rate.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Taking Care of Tasks, Getting a Big Treat
I arrived back in Ulaanbaatar on Wednesday afternoon, following a brief stay in Japan (story coming on my international blog). After a few days of getting to know my new comrades, the miniature adventures have, once again, begun.
Today, Jeff (an old roommate of my brother), Jonny and I set off into town to try to pick up a few items. We first needed to get a new battery for Jen's (Jeff's wife) phone. She bought the phone just the day before, but somehow she managed to use up the entire battery in a few short hours. Having accomplished task #1, we set off to find a wireless router. Not as easy as it should be. It seems that Computerland decided not to be open today. Task #2 resulted in failure. We decided that maybe 11:30 was simply too early for Mongolians (a reasonable option) and we should eat before trying Computerland again. We started looking for a decent place to eat when I saw a rundown looking place called "Restaurant World". I asked if they were up for a small adventure and they agreed. We stepped into the restaurant and it was like stepping into a four star restaurant. It was beautiful. We glanced at the menu to see that the prices were extremely inexpensive. We had some fantastic meals (Jeff even got his vegetarian dish without any meat), paid up and set out again for Computerland. Task #3, a resounding success. We arrived back at Computerland to realize that not only we, but several Mongolians were surprised to find it closed for the day. Task #2.... failure... again.
Finally, we set off for the State Department Store, found most of the items we needed, and set out for our final task. Task #4, a moderate success. We stepped out of the department store to find the relative quiet day had become quite busy. There was a Mongolian competing for gold in boxing, and it seems that everyone had come to this spot to watch the bout as there is an enormous television screen across the street. I now turn the story over to Jeff, reporting from the front of State Department Store in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
Jeff Eng, in his inaugural field report for ASUTV (American School of Ulaanbaatar Television). Be sure to catch future reports.
Today, Jeff (an old roommate of my brother), Jonny and I set off into town to try to pick up a few items. We first needed to get a new battery for Jen's (Jeff's wife) phone. She bought the phone just the day before, but somehow she managed to use up the entire battery in a few short hours. Having accomplished task #1, we set off to find a wireless router. Not as easy as it should be. It seems that Computerland decided not to be open today. Task #2 resulted in failure. We decided that maybe 11:30 was simply too early for Mongolians (a reasonable option) and we should eat before trying Computerland again. We started looking for a decent place to eat when I saw a rundown looking place called "Restaurant World". I asked if they were up for a small adventure and they agreed. We stepped into the restaurant and it was like stepping into a four star restaurant. It was beautiful. We glanced at the menu to see that the prices were extremely inexpensive. We had some fantastic meals (Jeff even got his vegetarian dish without any meat), paid up and set out again for Computerland. Task #3, a resounding success. We arrived back at Computerland to realize that not only we, but several Mongolians were surprised to find it closed for the day. Task #2.... failure... again.
Finally, we set off for the State Department Store, found most of the items we needed, and set out for our final task. Task #4, a moderate success. We stepped out of the department store to find the relative quiet day had become quite busy. There was a Mongolian competing for gold in boxing, and it seems that everyone had come to this spot to watch the bout as there is an enormous television screen across the street. I now turn the story over to Jeff, reporting from the front of State Department Store in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
Jeff Eng, in his inaugural field report for ASUTV (American School of Ulaanbaatar Television). Be sure to catch future reports.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Home
I got home. Come back for further updates starting after August 20, 2008.
I will be in Canada until that time. If you are in Ontario and would like to get together, drop me a line.
Have a great summer everyone.
I will be in Canada until that time. If you are in Ontario and would like to get together, drop me a line.
Have a great summer everyone.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Welcome to Mudgolia
The rainy season officially began yesterday. We actually saw more rain yesterday than we have in the entire time that I have been in the country. The term "rainy" is, of course, relative. For a country that sees such little precipitation, a seven minute shower counts as a rainstorm. Our rain has not been anything that resembles a downpour, rather you can go out for a significant walk, and still be reasonably dry.
The biggest problem lies in the amount of dirt/dust that is present in the country, and more specifically, in the city. since there is little vegetation, the ground is actually just dust.... until it rains. Now, it's mud. Everywhere. Also, the majority of roads, especially those in the ger districts (somewhere I have had the pleasure of visiting a couple of times recently) are not paved, and are really just tracks visible in the dirt, several districts are quickly becoming mud pits. Since much of these areas are located on the sides of the mountains, that mud travels downhill and begins to collect in the city centre. Aiding this mud collection is the lack of anything that even resembles storm drains.
I look forward to the next 4 days of predicted rain, which is expected to capped off with a significant thunderstorm.
The biggest problem lies in the amount of dirt/dust that is present in the country, and more specifically, in the city. since there is little vegetation, the ground is actually just dust.... until it rains. Now, it's mud. Everywhere. Also, the majority of roads, especially those in the ger districts (somewhere I have had the pleasure of visiting a couple of times recently) are not paved, and are really just tracks visible in the dirt, several districts are quickly becoming mud pits. Since much of these areas are located on the sides of the mountains, that mud travels downhill and begins to collect in the city centre. Aiding this mud collection is the lack of anything that even resembles storm drains.
I look forward to the next 4 days of predicted rain, which is expected to capped off with a significant thunderstorm.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Saying Goodbye... Over and Over
This is hard. When I came to Mongolia, I knew that people would be in and out of my life. What I didn't expect was that so many would be leaving at the same time.... or at least planning to. As it turns out, I get to say goodbye to the same people multiple times as flights continue to get delayed. So far, no one has made it out of Mongolia at their scheduled departure time, with at least one person being stuck her for an extra 48 hrs when she is trying to get to St. Petersburg, Russia, where her family is awaiting her arrival.
To those who are leaving Mongolia for good,
Thank you for all you have done and all you have been. This is a year that will remain entrenched in my memories and in my day-to-day outlook on life. I would not trade a moment of this year for anything. I will think of you everytime I look at the mountains, sit on a rooftop and mostly any time anything odd happens. I will miss you all. I look forward to the opportunities to catch up whenever and wherever that may be. As a good friend of mine once said, "I'll see you then." I've always felt that simple sentence captured the idea perfectly. I wish you all the best of luck. Enjoy your new adventures and stay safe in your endeavours.
Your friend,
Colin
To those who are leaving Mongolia for good,
Thank you for all you have done and all you have been. This is a year that will remain entrenched in my memories and in my day-to-day outlook on life. I would not trade a moment of this year for anything. I will think of you everytime I look at the mountains, sit on a rooftop and mostly any time anything odd happens. I will miss you all. I look forward to the opportunities to catch up whenever and wherever that may be. As a good friend of mine once said, "I'll see you then." I've always felt that simple sentence captured the idea perfectly. I wish you all the best of luck. Enjoy your new adventures and stay safe in your endeavours.
Your friend,
Colin
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Mongolian Weather
Having grown up and spent pretty much my entire life in Canada, weather was pretty consistent in my experience. I could never have imagined the insane weather patterns of a country like Mongolia. We have weather here that defies logic. To illustrate my point, here are some examples.
1. On a given day, the difference between the high and low temperatures can be in excess of 30 degree. I can wake up at 6:30 and we will have fairly chilly -5 (the coldest part of the day is around 7 am). by the warmest part of the day (4 or 5 pm) the temperature can be as high as 25-30 degrees.
2. During the winter, it was not uncommon to look at the forecast on weather.com or theweathernetwork.com and see that the day's weather was listed as "smoke". This is not from forest fires, but from the gers. Seriously? Smoke? Does that even count as weather?
3. A couple weeks ago, we experienced 32 degrees on Sunday. On Monday, we had snow squalls all day long.
4. Last night, in what was the most bizarre weather I've ever seen, we experienced a combination of 2 different storms at the exact same time. All day it had been sunny and well over 30 degrees (which isn't so bad since we get little to no humidity). Suddenly, at 9:30 the skies turned the darkest black (the sun hadn't quite set yet), and a massive storm came through. Sand/dust storms are not particularly uncommon as anyone in Korea, Northern China and Mongolia will attest to. What was odd about this dust storm was that we also got a rain storm at the same time. As a result, it turned into a mudstorm. Seriously. Mud fell from the sky. After a day with no wind, the storm also brought winds of greater than 80 km/h.
1. On a given day, the difference between the high and low temperatures can be in excess of 30 degree. I can wake up at 6:30 and we will have fairly chilly -5 (the coldest part of the day is around 7 am). by the warmest part of the day (4 or 5 pm) the temperature can be as high as 25-30 degrees.
2. During the winter, it was not uncommon to look at the forecast on weather.com or theweathernetwork.com and see that the day's weather was listed as "smoke". This is not from forest fires, but from the gers. Seriously? Smoke? Does that even count as weather?
3. A couple weeks ago, we experienced 32 degrees on Sunday. On Monday, we had snow squalls all day long.
4. Last night, in what was the most bizarre weather I've ever seen, we experienced a combination of 2 different storms at the exact same time. All day it had been sunny and well over 30 degrees (which isn't so bad since we get little to no humidity). Suddenly, at 9:30 the skies turned the darkest black (the sun hadn't quite set yet), and a massive storm came through. Sand/dust storms are not particularly uncommon as anyone in Korea, Northern China and Mongolia will attest to. What was odd about this dust storm was that we also got a rain storm at the same time. As a result, it turned into a mudstorm. Seriously. Mud fell from the sky. After a day with no wind, the storm also brought winds of greater than 80 km/h.
A dust storm as seen from our school. You would normally have a view of the entire city without the dust. Instead, you can barely see 60m away.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Clarification
It turns out that it was a Chinese fortune teller that predicted the earthquake for last night. She was (obviously) wrong. The Russian fortune teller was much less specific. She predicted that it would happen in the month of June. So she has a few more weeks to be right. Let this be a lesson to us all.... don't believe Chinese fortune tellers who are that specific... only the vague Russian ones.
Also, this allows us to continue with our belief that Russian fortune tellers are better than scientists.
Also, this allows us to continue with our belief that Russian fortune tellers are better than scientists.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Forcasting Earthquakes
Keep your eye on Mongolian news. It seems that an earthquake is being predicted for sometime between 8:00 and 11:00 tonight for Ulaanbaatar. Now, I realize that seismologists still proclaim that they can't accurately predict earthquake activity, but that is irrelevant. As the story has been told to me (by several Mongolians), a Russian fortune-teller predicted it. For those of you wondering, it is, in fact, the same fortune-teller that was crowned champion at a recent national (Russian) fortune-telling competition.... I had no idea that fortune-telling was a competitive sport... I think I may have a new career path in mind. Now, this may not seem like a reasonable cause for concern, but the Mongolians seem to be giving it the same attention and concern as an American might if NASA said that a meteor was going to strike the earth.
Now, for this to be reality, we may need to suspend our disbelief. Firstly, it is completely irrelevant that Ulaanbaatar does not sit anywhere near a major fault line (We didn't even feel the quake in Sichuan). Second, the only volcanoes in the country are far in the west, and they have been extinct for millenia, so it is reasonable to believe that one may erupt. Third, Mongolia hasn't even felt the slightest hint of seismic activity since 1957, so there is clearly a long tradition of earthquakes shaking Mongolia. Fourth, Buddhist tradition believes that earthquakes release demons into the world (okay, that has nothing to do with anything, but I had to fit it in somewhere).
So, if you don't hear from me again, it is possible that I am buried in Ulaanbaatar under the rubble. Fear not, however, I have stocked up on beer, so I'll be fine if I'm still alive. Also, if this happens, it is time to stop listening to scientists who do not claim to have the answers, and begin putting our faith in old kooks that we previously would only listen for entertainment purposes.
Now, for this to be reality, we may need to suspend our disbelief. Firstly, it is completely irrelevant that Ulaanbaatar does not sit anywhere near a major fault line (We didn't even feel the quake in Sichuan). Second, the only volcanoes in the country are far in the west, and they have been extinct for millenia, so it is reasonable to believe that one may erupt. Third, Mongolia hasn't even felt the slightest hint of seismic activity since 1957, so there is clearly a long tradition of earthquakes shaking Mongolia. Fourth, Buddhist tradition believes that earthquakes release demons into the world (okay, that has nothing to do with anything, but I had to fit it in somewhere).
So, if you don't hear from me again, it is possible that I am buried in Ulaanbaatar under the rubble. Fear not, however, I have stocked up on beer, so I'll be fine if I'm still alive. Also, if this happens, it is time to stop listening to scientists who do not claim to have the answers, and begin putting our faith in old kooks that we previously would only listen for entertainment purposes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
