Barack Obama: A 5 Paragraph Essay

(On the left) Jessica and (on the right) Dana

This semester, my students were to write 2 5 paragraph essays. One was about a famous person. There other was about a country of the world. I am proud of all of my students because they gave a good effort and because they are learning how to compose an essay.

My favorite quote from the essays is from Jessica who drew a comparison of an aspect of her own culture to that of Italian culture: "Just like Mongolian airag, Italian wine is rated as a traditional and unique drink."

The best of the essays is below. I highlight this for two reasons: 1) the content and 2) the quality of her writing. Dana, the author, received a perfect score. I think you'll agree, she should be very proud of her work.


Name: Dana
Class: Grammar and Vocabulary English, ES306
Date: 05.Decemeber.2008
Assignment: About Barack Obama

Barack Obama

Great change is coming to America. Barack Hussien Obama overcame very difficult life when he was a child. Obama candidate Presidential election of the United States because he was honest and responsibility person. He elected 44th President of the US. He came in the world to change all Americans.

Barack Obama’s childhood was difficult. Obama was born in Honolulu, Hawaii. When he was two years old, his parents divorced. His father died in an automobile accident. His mother died of ovarian cancer. Because of that he used marijuana, cocaine, and alcohol when he was high school. He obtained a lot of experiences when he studied in famous universities.

Using his abilities, he decided to candidate Presidential election of the United States. He stressed the issues such as ending the Iraq War, increasing energy independence and providing universal health care. His campaign held successfully. Supporter of Obama was still increasing. How did he find confident of supporter? That was incredible. Of course, his family helped him a lot. Soon, it was become evident that he absolutely win.

Barack Obama won Presidential election of the US. Obama became first black President. All Americans voted for their 44th President. He will live White House officially on 20, Jan, 2009. His victory will bring change for all Americans. They hope that he never repeat Bush’s mistakes again. That’s why all American voted for him.

Now he need to prove he can change all America. Although his childhood was a difficult, he overcame his life problems. His election campaign became successfully. President of America is Barack Hussien Obama. If somebody has true mind and ability, maybe, you can reach your great purposes and change the world.

Works cited: Newsweek.com Jan, 14, 2008
Rollingstone.com July 10-24. 2008
www.google.com
www.america.gov

Meet Cady's Counterparts! (Old and New!)

It's time to put some faces with the stories you hear-- and I thought you might enjoy seeing who I spend a majority of my time with here in Mongolia, my counterparts! My agency has undergone a lot of transition in the time I've been here, starting as CHF's GER Initiative, moving into a local NGO, Development Solutions (still implementing the GER Initiative), and in April, they'll start a NEW Mongolian Agrobusiness Support Program (MASP).

These are the friends and Mongolians who have made my work here so enjoyable and rewarding.


My current supervisor, Suvdjamts (Sugi) and I celebrating the beginning of the new Development Solutions NGO.


Peter with Bagana, my first supervisor in Darkhan, now the Deputy Director of the program and still my really good friend.


All the wonderful women I get to work with everyday enjoying some cold weather at our all staff meeting in October! Mooni, Aidya and Zolbo are three of my newest female counterparts.


My counterpart Ataraa, who along with Sugi, keeps us in stiches. He and I are always laughing, speaking MongLish.


Khulan, our current Administrative Officer and Translator, who makes sure I always understand what's happening and helps me with everything. I couldn't survive here without her!


Gereltzam, a former business advisor just left our office to start a new job. It's not the same without her!


Ulzii, our former Administrative Officer has also left recently to start a new job. She was amazing to work with, and Peter and I were very lucky to have her handle all of our housing and settling in! I miss her!


Amaraa, who left recently to study abroad was wonderful to work with! (We're making the standard Mongolian photo pose with the Peace sign!)


It's a great office, so much energy, motivated and hardworking! I know I'm a very lucky PCV!

Ninja Halloween

I’m generally not a fan of holidays, especially when I’m required to dress up, but this year I really did enjoy Halloween with my students. My 28th Halloween was their first.

The day before the class as a whole was sure they’d be unable to get costumes. They explained they’d never done Halloween before and that outside of the capital there simply weren’t any costumes for the finding. In their minds, a costume was a purchased item. Calming their fears, I told them they’d need only to be creative and paint their faces, use clothing from home. It’s more fun, I explained, when you’ve created your costume.

The next day, I showed up to class to discover a room full of pirates and mummies and gangsters and superheroes and masked ghouls and women of devilish dispositions. Faces were hidden behind paint, masks and ear to ear smiles. As I entered the classroom, they swarmed me, yelling: “Boo!” and “Wa ha ha!” I doubled over in laughter.

Not yet disguised, partly in dread fear of my own humiliation, they asked: “You do not wear costume, Mr. Gerlach! Why?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I have a costume. It’s in the teacher’s room next door, but I won’t wear it until later.”

You’d think I’d just told them that Chinggis Khan was Chinese. “NO! NO!” they roared. “NOW! YOU MUST PUT ON NOW!”

Caving in to peer pressure, I went across the hall and changed. When I re-entered, I was greeted by a roomful of uncontrolled laughter and flashing phone cameras. “What are you?” one student asked.

“I’m a ninja” I said, as I let fly my tinfoil-clad cardboard sword. Somehow I don’t think it was my weapon that caught their attention. It might rather have been the black, almost skin-tight long underwear get up covering me from head to toe.

I had to go with it. I got into character and attacked the pirates. The students loved it.

“Now what should we do?”

“We scare other classes!”

And with that, our dark army entered the hallway. We gathered and readied ourselves and then charged into a nearby classroom taught by one of my counterparts. Lightly pushing each other, we screamed them into confusion. I, on the other hand, knowing that if this was a one time deal, was going to make the most of it. As the students’ scares softened, I ran about the room swinging my sword, calling out: “Hee yah! Hee yah!” I went after sitting students. I chopped down my counterpart.

On our way out, we parted with: “Happy Halloween!”

That attack plan repeated until we’d scared all of the classes on the third floor. I couldn’t stop laughing.

Next was apple-bobbing. Seventeen of us, students and teachers alike, put our faces into the cold water to retrieve the apples. The event brought to their faces a genuine, childlike joy, a Halloween innocence that I’ll never take for granted again. I stood back and thought: now this is a great Peace Corps moment. I might have an undependable memory, but those smiles are going to be hard to forget.

After exchanging a little candy, we cleaned up the party and I went back to my office.

Twenty minutes later, as I was chatting with my counterpart about Halloween, there came a rap on the door. It was the students, sans costumes. “What’s up, everybody?” I asked. Instead of a reply, they all looked at each other and giggled. I lowered my head and continued whatever I was working on. I heard camera clicks. I looked up and gave a perplexed smiled. Arms extended, half of them were clicking away. I felt like a celebrity. Then, a few stood behind me. Cameras flashed again. Finally, they collectively gathered round me and asked Suvda, my counterpart, to take a group shot. I gave her my camera too.

To this day, the students haven’t explained to me the post-party photo shoot. Whatever their reasons, that picture is one of my favorites of me with them. I’m really going to miss them when I go back to America.

A World to Admire

At last I have finished the world map. A project I expected would take 4 days when we started, took a little over 40 hours in 6 days to complete. Due to the scale of the map and my own perfectionism, I grew quite familiar with that wall, spending days of 9, and even 11, straight hours drawing, painting and fixing mistakes. I look at it now and think about all the time and effort we put into it.

It stands 6.43 feet in height and stretches 12.86 feet in length along a well-chosen hallway in my school. It is in a spot where students pass by each day.

As far as I know, 3 other PCVs have done a similar map project in their former schools. Some are bigger, some smaller. Some are more accurate, others not so much. On over all aesthetic appeal, ours is hard to beat.

I, and the student and faculty general population, owe a lot to those who helped me with this project. 19 people, in a variety of roles, worked to complete what is now a beautiful and well-used map of the world, a gift to our school for students to use for decades to come.

Each of the four corners gives a little something extra to the map. In the top left, the school’s logo, and in the top right, the Peace Corps logo. In the bottom left we put a compass and in the bottom right the signatures of those who participated in the creation.

When it was all finished, I had a small opening ceremony. I gave my thanks to those who worked on the project, talking about the many stages and the long hours. Next, each person who helped me (including the cleaning ladies who put the first coat of light blue down and the security guard who helped edge the perimeter in black) signed the map. Finally, I played a slide show on my computer of the 50 plus pictures taken over the last 6 days set to R. Kelly’s “The World’s Greatest.” Sure, it’s Kraft cheesy, but everyone seemed to enjoy it.

I often stand at a distance and watch students point to countries in all corners of the planet. Each time I stop by, it’s a different group of students whose faces read the gamete of expressions: excitement, confusion and pride. Its accessibility and easy-to-use nature makes the educational value more than apparent. Yeah, I’d say the 20 bucks and week’s work was well worth it.

A Countryside Wedding

As I walked home after work, I thought about what I might be getting myself into. Only weeks earlier had I told my counterparts that I really wanted to see a real Mongolian wedding, a countryside affair. Jokingly, I had told the only single female of the group, Uyangaa that she has only 10 months to wed before time was up, before I’d be on my way back to America. Now one of my students was getting married. What luck! And Khugjmaa, a sort of surrogate mother figure to me, made, on my behalf, unbeknownst to me, a request for invitation to the nuptials. How fortuitous! I could not help but wonder, though, what does a traditional countryside Mongolian wedding look like? What part would I take in it? I knew that many Mongolians were now getting married at wedding palaces, either in Darkhan, or, more likely, in Ulaanbaatar (UB). That, however, was an option generally reserved for those with money and an interest in celebrating in a more “western” style, an option I guessed Dulamsuren’s (Allie’s) family never once considered. The only thing that I was sure of was that the wedding I would be attending tomorrow morning would likely be nothing like my own and that my living in Mongolia only opened the limitlessness of possibilities. As for the rest, I’d just have to wait and see.

Click here to read more!

Healthy and Happy!

Cady and Peter at Empire!

(This one's for the moms!)

Cady working at the 2008 Darkhan Harvest Trade Fair

Peter teaching General English students

The First 3 Weeks

The first 3 weeks of this semester have been…a familiar sort of strange. I am no longer surprised at each turn like I was a year ago. Sure, I still often pause in disbelief. I still question the logic of…well, too many things to list. I’m just thankful it’s now and not a year ago. In many ways, Mongolia, Darkhan, my school, is more “normal” than what I imagine America being like.

So far, it has gone like this:

My school again declared that the first day of classes would be one week before the generally accepted day of the opening of all Mongolian schools, 1 September.

The opening day ceremony was held one week after classes were supposed to start. I gave a speech in Mongolian. Of the 2,000 students our school has, 100 or so came.

I taught my first class 2 weeks after classes were supposed to start. Half of the students were there.

Many students have not shown up for classes, citing various reasons for their absence. Even more have not finished registering for their classes, citing various reasons for their indolence.

My teaching schedule has changed 5 times.

We have 3 new English teachers this semester. One is Malaysian. She is part-time. She started last week. One is Mongolian. She is part-time. She started last week. One is Russian. She is full-time. She hasn’t come yet.

I am now team teaching. This is new for us all. I am teaching 3 different classes with my 3 main counterparts: Technical English with Khugjmaa, Grammar and Vocabulary with Suvda, and General English with Uyangaa. The first 2 are with the above-mentioned seniors. The 3rd class is one section of (dare I say) upper level general English students. The planning sessions were great. The actual teaching together has been great.

I am learning how to teach English to an entire class of very beginner English students. Surprisingly, I haven’t had to do that yet. It’s like being back at host site during training. It’s been a lot of fun.

After one week of classes, all the 4th course (senior) Interpreter Engineering students (the group of 15 that I taught the most last year), are now on a two-week break. With no preparation, they are doing Teaching Practice. They will be teaching English to various schools around Darkhan. 1 student has very limited teaching experience. The others...well...

I put a new sign on the door above which reads: “please knock on the door before you enter” on our English office. I also switched desks with one of my counterparts. I was getting really annoyed by all the students opening our office door, peeking in for no apparent reason and closing the door again. How many times can a person say “khaalag togshoroi” (please knock on the door)? It’s one of the few things I still haven’t gotten used to. The project has had mixed results.

I have found a new way to commute to school. It’s a great 15 minute trek. While I walk, I read and listen to music. With the way some Mongolians look at me, you’d think I’d just stepped out of a space ship. He’s not looking ahead while he’s walking. He’s reading…a book. Crazy white man.

I have been “interviewing” students starting for an English club that will begin on 1 October. The club will be for good speakers looking for an outlet to improve their abilities. About half of the interested students have been stumped by: “Please talk about yourself for 1 minute.” Many, though, have been rather impressive.

I met a new and fascinating Mongolian. His name is Buren Scharaw. He lives and works in Germany. He has been there for the last 34 years. He speaks amazing English (and Mongolian and German)…with a thick German accent. Many Mongolians I talked to think he is very un-Mongolian. He manages a water supply and treatment project in the UB/Darkhan area. He comes to Mongolia every month or 2. On his next visit to Darkhan, in mid-November, he has promised to bring bratwurst and perhaps even sauerkraut for a grill-out at our place. Pardon me as I drool.

I am an English teacher in Mongolia. By my calculations, since school “began” 22 (well, 16, if you don’t count weekends) days ago, I have taught 10 classes. I “should have” taught 33 by now.

I wonder what the next 3 weeks will (or won’t) bring. Hmm…

Thankfully Some Things Don’t Change

Brett Favre may not be our quarterback anymore, but round 2 of Peace Corps/Mongolia Green Bay Packers football is definitely on! I knew it was back because last Tuesday for the first time in months I was back at it, in my Darkhan office glued to the computer watching little moving green and yellow and purple and yellow lines moving back and forth across the screen. Monday Night Football. Packers. Vikings. Lambeau Field. Last second victory. Rodgers, the hero. 24-19. Relief.

Last night I went to bed with that familiar nervous itch. This morning I woke to the I-just-gotta-knows. I had set my alarm for 8 a.m., but at 7:14 I decided I could wait no more. I got up, got dressed and got myself to a computer. Another familiar feeling: the all too long computer loading process. Logging in. Typing nfl.com. Loading nfl.com. Waiting. Nervousness. Scanning the scores. Jubilation. Packers 48. Lions 25. But, of course. Rodgers is the hero once again.

It amuses me to think that this is the most “normal” thing I will experience in my office or at my school all day long. Thank God for the Packers.

I Hate Mosquitoes

It all began when I was a trainee. I had this funny thing about flies. I hated them. I invested time, effort and even money to kill as many as I could. And, I didn’t have to go out of my way to find them. They found me. Mongolia, and my host family’s house, has more than its fair share of the winged fiends. Even as I write now (I am in my office at my university) there are 3 buzzing about making this entry all the more appropriate. Anyway, every night last summer I had a ritual. I would encircle the room, swatter in hand and vengeance in my heart, looking for the next opportunity to strike! I circled the room dozens of times for up to an hour each night before lying down for bed. For keeping me up and waking me early in the morning all too regularly, I learned to kill with precision and with what is probably an unhealthy sense of excitement and satisfaction. It kept me going, kept me bloodthirsty. I had the time and I certainly had plenty of motivation. Over the course of the summer I got quite good at it…and talking about it. My site mates recall numerous days and one particular evening when I carried on with a drunken diatribe about flies, how they knew what they were doing, that they enjoyed messing with me and how my battles with them were nothing short of epic. To this day, I get somewhat regular text messages from people sharing their own displeasure for and encounters with flies. I console them and give advice. You might say I’m somewhat of an authority on the subject. Sadly…and amusingly…flies are one of the things I remember most about my time as a trainee.

Moving forward...

Since moving to our new apartment I’ve found a new foe. Sure, there are still flies, but their numbers hail in comparison and they don’t keep me from sleeping. I see it like this: the game is the same, the opponent has changed. I still encircle the room but now I am looking for mosquitoes. They’re smaller. They hide better. They bite. And when struck they sometimes explode (can you see the smile spread wide across my face?).

The other night, I had a particularly epic battle with the skeeters in our bedroom. I was a man obsessed, spending countless hours staring at walls and ceilings in hopes of finding those vampiric little freaks. I was now well beyond a before bed ritual. I was now well beyond hoping for colder weather that would kill them all. I had now been woken from my sleep several times, thinking each time that I had assassinated the last one. It was as if they had either risen from the dead, popping off the walls and ceilings, or they were waiting in line, the next one waiting 15 minutes until I’d turned the light off again and gone back to bed to make his strike. More likely, of course, there was an entry point I had since left unaccounted. When I first turned off the light and laid down it was 11:00 p.m. I’d spent a half hour making sure the room was clear of mosquitoes. In the last 2 hours, then, the stats were as follows:
30 minutes of bad sleep
90 minutes of trying to calm down and fall back asleep
4 times getting up, turning the lights on and clearing the room
11 dead mosquitoes
1 pissed off insomniac.

I’d had enough.

You might be asking, Why did he let it get so bad? Why didn’t he get up sooner and figure out a better plan? Well, in previous nights it has sometimes taken 2-3 rousing to extinguish the threat. And, in my delirium, I didn’t know what time it was or how long I’d been at this.

In 2 and half hours I was over the double digit mark. 11. That’s just too damn many in one night, in one room.

I killed 2 more. 1 on the wall behind the bed. 1 on the ceiling near the door.

At 1:30 Custer made his last stand and decided to change history. I opened the bedroom door (moving the stool that is there at night to keep the door closed…yup, ah huh) and retrieved a roll of scotch tape and a scissors. I came back in, returned the stool to its post and threw open the curtains. I proceeded to tape up the windows, taping every conceivable entry point. As I taped I could see my reflection the window. A dark smirk stared back.

Just then 3 mosquitoes swarmed me. The jig is up! I’ve never seen mosquitoes move like that (I exaggerate not…well, a tiny bit, but it was crazy how they encircled and swooped around me). My training in the fly wars came back to me. I retaliated. I located my holstered swatter, unsheathed it and took to combat. 1 down! 2 down! Ha, ha, take that! 3 down!

I finished up the taping, double and triple checking my work. The perimeter was secure.

Next, I checked every wall and the whole ceiling for more access points. Nothing.

By 1:58 a.m. the bleeding had stopped.

I went back to my side of the bed (oh, Cady was asleep in the living room...we both had colds and didn't want to make the other sicker...I probably should have mentioned that earlier...anyway), placed the tape and scissors on the end table and the swatter just beside the bed on the floor (its nightly locale…always at the quick and ready). I sat down and looked at my pillow. To my chagrin, but more so to my satisfaction, there was a bloodstain on my pillowcase. I thought back, smiling, Yeah, I remember killing that one.

I took out a pad of paper and a mechanical pencil (they’re the only ones I’ll use…just a side note). Before I would forget the night’s events I sat down and wrote a few details. I’m definitely writing a blog about this.

I looked at my alarm clock. It read 2:18. I got up, turned off the light and climbed back into bed.

I slept soundly for the remainder of the night…dreaming of conquest, I’m sure.

Home, Sweet NEW Home

We have moved to...the other side of town...

Actually, we are really rather pleased with our new home. In a way it's as if we've earned an upgrade. And, this place is an upgrade:

- A real entryway
- A kitchen with lots of cupboards (at last, storage space)
- A kitchen sink with an additional water filter tapper
- Real wood floor hallways
- A nook large enough for a small office space
- A 2nd bedroom (which is now our gym equipped with bench, weights and Gazelle)
- A real toilet with push-button flushing action and a real 2-part toilet seat
- A real sink that has its own faucet
- A bad ass shower with a high-power shower head
- A better location:
3 minutes from the post office
2-5 minutes from Darkhan's best restaurants
Peter is now 15 minutes from school, not 50 (Cady still gets driven to work in the CHF jeep)
1-10 minutes from Darkhan's best grocery stores
- Out of an apartment owned by the craziest Mongolian we have ever met

There's only one thing we really miss from our old home: the comfy furniture. Well, there's also our wonderful local delguur (store) owner and the great neighborhood kids. They will be missed.

A little history/info.: this apartment was used by Peace Corps programmers this last summer during training. Knowing that our landlord was only going to give us 1 month to vacate, we visited this apartment the night we checked out all the soon-to-be available apartments we knew of in Darkhan. It wasn't even our plan to stop by, but it was recommended to us along the way by a Mongolian friend. What luck. We found out that this apartment was owned by the director of the nicest bank in Darkhan, a man with quite a bit of social clout.

We are both very happy to have a fresh start for year 2 and we are excited to finally be in our new home. After a month of waiting, we are finally moved in and almost ready to take photos to share with all of you.

And I'm back...

The PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer) gave me a whole lot of stripable free weights from his personal gym this past weekend. I'm working out at home now, but I'm back in business...

Gym No More

Today is a sad, sad day. I was told that I can no longer go to my gym. The owner came into gym 15 minutes into my session and notified me that the lease has run out on the woman who runs the gym. I didn't even ask if the gym would be re-opened with him as manager or someone else because he made it very clear that I should not return. What can you say to that?

The most difficult part of all this is that going to that gym has been my mental health outlet. I have really relied on that gym.

The other difficult part is that I thought that the woman who ran the gym (one of Cady's clients) and I were friends. We had such a good relationship. She came into the gym a week ago with another man who was clearly a potential buyer looking at the equipment. She told me that everything was fine and that I shouldn't worry. My guess is that she could not afford the gym anymore. She recently took out a very large loan and I don't think that her regular clients were really paying regularly. It was business venture that was just too large and complicated for her. I wish she would have told me this herself.

I've spoken with our medical officer here and he is going to give me some dumbells to use at home. Coupled with a home work out dvd I hope to be getting from America, I think that I will be just fine. The sessions will be different, but that's okay. I will just have to be a little more creative now.

The Thrill of the Chase

I recently learned a very valuable lesson about life in the Mongolian countryside.

It was the last day of English Language Vacuum Training #2 (see previous Vacuum Training #1 blog entry if unfamiliar) and my PCV cohort, Brody, and I decided to go on a hike with the participants. Well, the teachers (as many Mongolians do) preferred to stroll out a bit, find a nice spot, sit down and relax with a little alcohol and some food. Brody and I, however, were up for a little more challenge. So, with our summit looking right at us in the distance, he and I went on ahead.

We were having a good time, talking about previous hikes we'd been on. We were making good time. We went quite a ways away from the others, making our way down a deep gully, then up again and then across a wide valley and onto a worn path to the top of a ridge. At the base of the ridge, on the other side, I honed in on two things: the base of the mountain where we would begin our ascent and a pretty well-developed ger and hashaa. Brody turned the other direction to gaze out on where we had come from and to see where the other teachers had stopped on the distant, first tall hill we'd crossed 45 minutes before. I was about to go for my camera when I saw imminent danger.

"Hey, Brody, turn around for second. Look down there."

"What?"

"Those dogs are coming for us...and fast!"

"Oh, sh*@!"

With the speed of a Mongol horde, 4 large dogs were racing from the hashaa, across the valley and up the ridge we had been standing on. Immediately Brody and I took off running. We could see that we could not match their speed and that within seconds they would be on top of us. We were running for our lives, frantically looking for sticks and rocks. There weren't any. We continually looked back to check their progress. We braced ourselves for the worst.

In the time that we ran 50 yards, the dogs had probably covered a distance of about 400 yards. They were big, fast and had a single thought on their minds: attack.

As we fled down the long ridge slope we continually looked at each other with equal dread fear and inextinguishable excitement. There are few times in my life when I thought I was going to die. This was one of them.

Just as we discovered a few frail sticks we noticed that the herder, riding on his horse, had topped the ridge. He'd called off the hunt.

Now safe, Brody and I could not help but laugh at our good fortune. How close we had come. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was even...fun?

Whatever it was, it was intense and it has opened my eyes to how life really is on the steppe.

One YEAR!

Well, we made it! It's been a year (TODAY!), and we're so happy to share with all of you that we are happy, healthy, and time has been flying by! It's hard to believe that only one year ago we knew very little about our future home, spoke no Mongolian, and were flying by the seat of our pants. Today, we speak a little more Mongolian, know more about our current home of Mongolia, although we're still flying by the seat of our pants!

Trafficking In Persons

One secondary project I spend a lot of my time on is "Trafficking in Persons," or "TIP", related issues. I sit on the TIP committee for Peace Corps Mongolia, put together training materials for other PCVs to use, give trainings around town to different groups, and work with Mongolian NGOs focused on TIP issues to improve PCV collaboration.

In March, another PCV, our Mongolian counterpart, and I had a hugely successful event-- over 600 high school students attended a training at the local theater, sponsored by the Darkhan Student Union and Women's Union. There was the traditional Mongolian pomp and circumstance, many speeches preceeding our training, a giant sign with logos, and all the traditional Mongolian "event" makings. It was fantastic to see such a large audience reached and awesome to think about making that many people aware of the topic and increasing their awareness of TIP, travelling abroad, and making smart decisions about work/study abroad opportunities.


One of the many speeches preeceding our training

But today, on a smaller, but possibly more effective scale, today I gave a training to 50 college students studying to be social workers. There was no stage, no bright lights, and certainly no speeches by the aimag governor. But these social workers will be the people placed in local government houses, local schools, and hospitals. These women and men will be the ones who can have a direct and real impact on the people and communities they will serve. They were engaged, interested, and feverishly taking notes. They will be the people who can identify vulnerable and at-risk youth, and now armed with the information about TIP issues in Mongolia, hopefully they can make a difference.

It's times like today when I realize scale isn't important-- it's the quality and capacity for development and improvement of those involved.

A "Rocky" Moment

Usually when I run to the gym I am met with wide eyes and dropped jaws. I may as well have green skin and 3 heads. Some people pivot their heads and watch me run passed. Some stop and watch in awe or bewilderment. Some, usually those in front of me, clear far out of the way. Most of the amazed and confused are older people, though the ages really range.

Generally, I waive to the children as I run passed. Usually, I get a smile and a waive back. The young people are the ones who are entertained and/or genuinely interested/intrigued by the large, white running man.

Yesterday, I had a "Rocky" moment. You remember from the original what happens when Rocky Balboa is full into his training and running through the streets of Philadelphia? That's right. Kids excitedly ran alongside and behind him. Now, I didn't have a mob, but I did have two boys, middle school-aged, who, when they saw me, picked up their pace and ran with me all the way to the gym. This is a good 10-minute run, some of it downhill and some uphill. A couple times in the past I've had kids run with me before, but never for this long.

Occasionally I even see others running for recreation. Hmm.

Cady tells me that every once and a while clients entering her office mention that they saw the large, white running man running by and isn't that her husband?

Yup, jog fever appears to be catching on!

Watching Mongolia Go By

After running home from the gym or coming back from a long run in the hills, I like to sit on the steps leading up to the doorway of our apartment building. Listening to my iPod, I take at least 15 minutes just to watch Mongolia go by.

Whether cold enough to see my breath or warm enough to strip layers, I look forward to getting home, to cooling down and taking in those few stolen minutes out of the day when I can think about anything and nothing.

It gives me an opportunity to “stop and smell the roses.” Or, the smoke from a dozen or so fires set to remove the weeds around the nearby school. I can relax and enjoy the sun and cool breeze. Or, I can nervously anticipate which kid will plummet to his/her death climbing and jumping from one tattered building top to another. I can enjoy my music in peace. Or, the incessant horn-honking as one car impatiently awaits someone who doesn’t seem to be coming can rattle my cage. I never really know what’s going to happen.

I waive to the kids, smile at the young people who pass by and say “Sain bain uu, ta?” to the older folks approaching the doorway.

I gaze out, passed the many apartment buildings, on the mountains in the distance. In the other direction, looking west, I can watch as the sun sets behind the towering white Buddha.

And in my little corner of Mongolia, early morning, mid-afternoon or night, this really is one of my favorite places to be, one of my favorite times of the day.

Student Compositions (#2)

These are some more homework responses from my students. Enjoy!




Why is Mongolia a special country? What is good about Mongolia? What is bad about Mongolia?

Allie – 31 Mar

I lived in Mongolia. Mongolian is the pride of my. The Gobi Desert occupies almost 30 percent of our country vast terriotory. The Mongolian Gobi has high mountain, cold springs, evergreen forest gold sands, Suhkbaatar square is one the beautiful place in UB. The national holidays are celebrated Sukhbaatar. Bad – Mongolian is no grape, appicot, plum



If you could travel back in time to 1597 in England (When Romeo and Juliet was written), what would you ask William Shakespeare? Why?

Ashley – 8 April

I would ask Why are you killed Romeo and Juliet at the ending of the movie William Shakespeare. Because its question very important for me. I watch a very much this movie on TV. I like Romeo and Juliet.

Rachel – 7 Apr

I would ask William Shakespeare why did you kill the Romeo and Juliet in play. I think that they must live. Because their death is stupid.

Dana – 8 April

First, I would see him very carefully. I would introduce myself and mention about Mongolia. I am lucky one. Because god gave me a chance to meet you. I am very glad that. And then I would ask him “Why were you write play which is call Romeo and Juliet?” “Why?” “Was it your love story or not…?” “Why were you decide to die main characters?” “Was Juliet beautiful woman appeared like movie?” Was it real story or not…?”

Jessica – 8 April

I’d say William Shakespeare that you are the greatest writer of all period and I’d want to become his apprentice. After I’d talk to him about his famous plays. I’d be together with him during his writing period. But I won’t disturb him. Because I want to know about his writing style and inspiration.

Emily – 8 Apr

I would say William Shakespeare, you are an very talented author and I appreciate you. So, I would say to ask write about my life. Because I work together with him. After study from him lots of knowledge, I expect that would become the famous author. I wish people read the plays, written by myself.

Anni – 8 April

Shakespeare is very famouse not only in Europea but also all around the world people knows about Shakespeare. If I meet with him it will be golden chance for me. I will ask from he. Why do you know about other places? you never been there. Are you real or not? Do you write by your self or somebody help you? Why Rome and Juliet should die? Why they don’t need to live long together?



Why is telling the truth and being real difficult?

Emily – 1 Apr

It is very difficult to lie someone because I don’t want to suffer my parents heart. I can’t tell lie because of afraid from someone. I like tell truly to people anything. Never! Don’t be lie.



Why is slavery good?

Dana – 8 Apr

I think it is false/wrong question. Because slavery is very bad word. Slavery is very bad thing. It violates of human and person’s right. It is an oppression to someone labour. I heard it before from American Early life/maybe latin America. Some slave is almost black people. I read about the book, called “Half-caste woman.” Slaves lived bad environment and do many difficult works. At the end, I want to tell again, slavery is not good thing.



What is your worst nightmare?

Alicia – 19 Apr

My worst nightmare is about die. I was walking desert ground. However I suddenly to fall in hole. Just when have a dangerous and terrible me. How awful!

Vacuum Anyone?

Last Sunday, I came back from a week in the countryside.

A couple months ago, my director asked me if I would lead a week-long English language training for the teachers of my school. She explained that 12 teachers would attend, two from each department. She also explained that this seminar would be called “Vacuum Training.”

Being that this seminar was seven days long, I decided to enlist the help of two other PCVs. The first, Rachel, came for Monday and Tuesday. Chris came later in the week, staying from Thursday until Saturday midday. Needless to say, I am more than thankful that I got a little help from my friends.

When we arrived at the site, Zulzaga, I thought I had just landed at a vacation spot. Forest. Hills. Trails. Sunshine. A cool breeze. And then we went inside. After seeing what I had seen many times before (the lobby and the cafeteria), I saw what I’ve never seen in Mongolia. The manager had led me to the computer lab, a room of 21 brand new computers each equipped with speakers and Windows Vista 2007. Additionally, the room had a projector hanging from the ceiling and a large screen set along the front wall. In the middle of know where, I had at my disposal the perfect set of classrooms, indoors and out. Ooh, buddy!

We watched American movies, we played games, and we went for lots and lots of walks. We talked about family, education, controversial issues, nature, politics, international relations, health, genocide and culture. We covered listening, writing, reading and most importantly, speaking and thinking. We spoke formally, but more often, informally. We learned words like “nuh uh,” “virgin” and “euthanasia.” We even had a gen-u-wine Mongolian birthday party fit with circle dancing and “Peter’s cocktail,” a new brand of Mongolian alcoholic beverage I’d shown them consisting of vodka…with juice. Who knew? We gave the teachers the most unorthodox training they’d probably ever experienced.

In their free time, teachers spoke mostly English. In their free time, teachers asked for more grammar instruction. In their free time, teachers studied and practiced the previous day’s lessons.

In my free time, I took naps. I went for runs through the forest. I watched half of the first season of “The Wire” on the 22nd of the new 2007 Dells, the one in my room.

By the end of the week, we were all exhausted and ready to go home.

On the ride back to Darkhan, teachers weren’t only speaking in English, but they were laughing in English.

Since we got back, I’ve had several people asking to be put on the list for the next Vacuum Training. One teacher even said she would pay her own way.

Yesterday, my third course students asked me if they too could have a Vacuum Training…during their summer vacation.



English is high demand these days.

It's like playing a game of Oregon Trail...

Remember Oregon Trail? The old Apple IIE game, where you got to be a pioneer on the Oregon Trail? Hunting for your food, fording the Mississippi with your oxen? The funniest part of the game was how along the way (it never failed) you would inevitably lose some of your traveling party to diseases we had never even heard of, or thought were only back in the 1800s... like Cholera, the Plague, Dysentary, and other countless odd diseases. We'd laugh and laugh, "Oh Jennifer, you got Dystentary!! Haha!" Little did I know that one day I would be living this game.



I've decided living in Mongolia is like playing a game of Oregon Trail. We still have diseases like Cholera, Bacillary and Amoebic Dystentary, Giardia, Tuberculosis, and the Bubonic Plague here-- we have to "hunt" for our food in delgors (try making dinner out of Russian cookies, onions, and white rice!) and traveling to UB, it wouldn't suprise me if we had to ford the Xaraa River in our mikr bus.

For the last two weeks, I've been out of commission-- got a really bad bout of food poisoning that turned into a bacterial infection bordering on Dysentary. I never thought in my lifetime I would ever see these diseases, but unfortunately, in Mongolia, I have. I know multiple PCVs that have had Giardia MORE than one time, people that have had Dystentary and Cholera. It's literally like playing a game of Oregon Trail here, where you slowly lose members of your travel party to odd diseases. Fortunately, I'm not one of them! I'm on some good antbiotics now, and it seems to be on it's way out. Slowly, but surely. It's always an adventure here.

Wegetables Gone Wild

We're getting out of Darkhan lately, enjoying the warming weather, wind, and beautiful countryside. Last weekend, a small group of us headed out to a small (maybe the smallest I have ever seen!) soum/village to visit another PCV who was having a birthday. It was wonderful to relax and see the Mongolian "hudoo" (countryside) again, and he may have the most beautiful view from his ger door in all of Peace Corps. You step out of his ger, look across the valley filled with trees and a river to a gorgeous mountain. He wins the prize of best view. Not counting our view off the balcony of the old Soviet apartment blocs in Darkhan, of course! There were livestock and herding action a plenty, including recent calf-births and live action castration. Not such a pretty sight. We enjoyed our trip though, and had fun attempting to cook as a large group in a ger with very few electrical outlets and no running water.


Today I travelled to the Selenge aimag to conduct a training on "Uncommon Vegetables" for some of our agriculture clients. We spent the morning discussing composting, broccoli health benefits, and how to plant Catnip to deter pests (Catnip translates into Mongolian as "Cat's Green Vegetable"). I love travelling with my counterparts, as they are always quick to share stories and Mongolian folklore. This trip we stopped at the "Eej Mod" or Mother Tree to leave some offerings and well wishes for our friends and families. Apparently Eej Mod has proven quite powerful, since you can see her spirit shaking the tree branches every dawn, and when the Socialist police came to burn down all Buddhist relics and altars in the early to mid 1900s the officer's family that burned the Mother Tree all came down with a sickness and passed away. Not a spirit you want to mess with! It's a phenomenal sight with altars all over, ceremonious scarves, with milk products and vodka scattered among the tea leaf and candy offerings. It's one of my favorite places in Mongolia to visit, and I hope to keep giving the Mother Tree offerings over the next year and a half so she can keep blessing us with such a wonderful experience.



The Mother Tree

Student Compositions

At the end of each American and British Literature class, I ask my students a critical thinking question based on the period we have discussed that day. Below are some of the better, more read-worthy responses.


25 Mar – Anni
Describe your religion.

I'm buddist. My parents and brodres also buddist. In the world have so many kinds of religions. I think religions are locate only in persons heart. Some people say I believe only byselfe or father, mother and I don't belive any god. Buddist is very beleieable religion. Actually I never read Buddist book. I hope the Buddist. I know buddist's power. Every evening I pray to my god and I turn on the "eul" "zul" It means one kinds of candle, If I pray to my god before go out this day's everythings are shining, every works are great. But actually I don't know is it really buddist power or do I think like that. In the world everything is secret.


26 Feb – Jessica
What kinds of stories do you like? Why?

I like to read the legends. Because they are interesting. There are many interesting legends. I like to read the legend about vegetables. Because I am a cook. Three years ago, I graduated the Professional Training Center. I also like to read history. Because I want to be knowlegable. Both of the history and the legend are non-fiction. When I was seven, I used to read fairy tales a lot. Children like to read fairy tales.


27 Feb – Rachel
What do you think about the American Colonial Period?

People that came from Europe to America were so brave. Because they went so long way, they might be dead in the way. This people open new things for themselves. This people opened new world that now called America. I think that American literature started in this time, when people came to America.


10 Mar – Melody
Why is Mongolia a special country? What is good about Mongolia? What is bad about Mongolia?

Because Mongolia is a special country. There are many historical and cultural heritage in Mongolia. Mongolian hase special custom and traditional There are four season in Mongolia. Mongolia is well known for blue Mongols.

It has a big lands. Few people live in Mongolia. Mongolia has liverstock and many animals. There are many lake in Mongolia. People are very helpful.

Mongolia has air pollution. Many people hasn't got job. Many people live poor. Some Mongolian can't drink mineral water.


27 Mar – Holly
What does war do to people (good and bad)?

The war is very harm to people and many people died. Many children became orphan, so all world covered in tear. I hate the war. Because I think the world must more peaceful. The war bring us bad results. In XXI century we fight not by force but by knowledges. I want this world become peaceful.

Foolish Day!

April started with a bang in Mongolia, yesterday! Mongolians celebrate "Foolish Day" or "Joke Day" (Hodlaa Odor) pretty similar to how it's celebrated in the US... by playing jokes and teasing each other all day!

We had a great time setting up pranks with, for, and on our counterparts and fellow PCVs yesterday. I say we, but mostly I mean, I did it, and Peter was a victim in our plots! :) The best part was at the end of one of my "pranks" my counterparts were cracking up, and telling me that I should "go to Hollywood" and the best question I got was "How did you know about this great Mongolian holiday?" So it ended up being a cross-cultural exchange about how lots of cultures and countries do practice some form of April Fools' Day.

Happy Spring!

Class Visitors

Last Friday, for my “Let’s Speak English”/Language Practice class, I invited five students from School #19, a.k.a. “The German School” (as there are four Swiss teachers that teach there) to help me teach my lesson.

Side Note: School #19 is known for being one of the better schools in town to send your kids if you want them to have good English. Additionally, I am good friends with one of the math teachers at the school (she, Naraa, is also the Peace Corps Host Family Coordinator during the summers and has incredible English). Recently I have gone to participate in Naraa’s English book club. Of the students that attend the weekly class, five have amazing English, English that exceeds almost all of my counterparts.

To begin class, I had the three 8th graders and one 9th grader (one was not able to come) introduce themselves. As they each took their turn, I watched the expressions of my attentive students. Their reactions were mixed. I could see most thinking, these are the visitors Teacher said would come to class today?

When each of the girls had finished speaking, I broke the class into 4 small groups. I divided each group of 4, placing each of my stronger students in different groups. Our visitors then chose a group at random to join. As they got to know each other, I wrote four questions on the board:

1) What are the best ways to learn English? Why are these ways good?
2) What do you need from your English teacher(s) to improve your English? Explain.
3) Is it better to study English alone or with friends? Why?
4) Why do you study/practice English? What do you want to do with English?

I assigned a question to each group and explained that, with our 8th and 9th grade visitors as leaders, they were to discuss their question using as much English as possible.

As I walked around the room, listening to conversations, I noticed quite quickly the reactions of the students. The group’s leaders were doing a great job of keeping my students on task, but my students had varied responses to the exercise. Some were excited and active. Most, however, as I had expected, were either shy or embarrassed. My two male students gave me the strongest reactions. One had completely shut down and the other was insulted. Both looked at me as if I had betrayed them.

Of my four best students, three thrived in this environment (the fourth was the insulted student (he eventually turned his frown upside down after I spoke to him in private that he should act like the class leader he knew he was)). Another quarter of the class also took advantage of the opportunity.

About half of the class was just confused why I would bring in 14 and 15 year olds to help me teach and went along with it because they had to.

After fifteen minutes, I brought the groups back together. As we discussed the four questions as a class, I was again impressed with the way that the four younger students took charge, how they employed critical thinking skills and how comfortable they were with their second language. As for my students, most participated, many reluctantly, some eagerly. A few even, who have of late been excelling, gave moments of inspired speech.

After class, as we walked back to my office, the four girls expressed their opinions about the lesson and their frustrations with my students. I listened attentively as they explained that my students need to relax more, that they shouldn’t be so shy when speaking English. Each had explained to her group that speaking English shouldn’t be difficult; it simply requires practice and confidence.

What is your favorite English word?

I begin each class with a question. On one particular day, these were my students' responses to the above query:

Snappish
Amazing
Change
Fantastic
Oh, my God
Smile
Don’t ever give up
Scorpion
Wonderful
Beautiful
Encouragement
Powerful
Comfortable
Don’t panic
Now or never
Oh, shit
Learn, learn and learn again

33 Million Livestock...

Interesting article about the Mongolian herding lifestyle-- attributing one of the country's major issues (urban migration) to climate change.

National Geographic Article


"There are 33 million livestock in Mongolia today, more than ten times the number of people."

Wind....

We've decided that the Mongolians are right. There ARE 4 seasons in Mongolia! Really Hot, Rainy and Dreary, Really Cold, and Really Windy. We don't mean to complain-- the weather's really not that unbareable... but it'd be nice to have some more "moderate" weather days... but since arriving, there have been 3. June 4, September 18, and March 9.

All weather issues aside, life has been good. We're busy with work projects, community projects, and the like. The days seem to fly by pretty quickly, and there is never enough time to accomplish what we want to do!

Advice?

I'm starting to get some emails from "incoming" Mongolia Peace Corps Trainees! How exciting, and astounding, actually to think we've been living here for almost a year!

Some answers to commonly asked questions and things I wished they had told us!

1) Yes, you do need to pack the VERY best long underwear money can buy.

2) If you're taller than 5'10 -- bring ALL the clothes and shoes you could possibly need for 2 years. You'll be wearing capri pants with 3/4 length shirts and plastic house shoes otherwise.

3) Don't spend your time at home studying the language. Peace Corps language training is pretty comprehensive and intense your first 3 months. Spend your time eating salad and deli subs and drinking slurpees and visiting with family and friends!

4) Prepare to be stared/gawked at. You will stand out here, regardless of how well you try to integrate. Babies will cry when they see you (ok, this only happened to me once), and women and children will want to touch your hair. It's endearing at first, gets a touch annoying at times, and eventually you grow to accept it as an everyday part of your Mongolian existence.

Thank you, Brett Favre

Today, Thursday, 6 March 2008, our legendary and beloved quarterback retired from the NFL. As a fan, owner and admirer, I am saddened that he will no longer suit up, but I am happy that he has finished his career on top, the greatest player in history. After 16 years with the Packers, we will always remember the great games, the memorable moments, and the amazing finishes. We will remember the Super Bowls, the championship games, the playoff appearances. We will remember the records. We will remember the leader, the team player,the iron man and the hero. We will remember how he inspired us. For me, however, what I will remember the most is how he played because he loved the game, and how I loved the game more because I could watch him play it.

Thank you, Brett.

(Photo by Dilip Vishwanat/Getty Images)

Mongolia? China? Where the heck are we?

It's time we set the record straight! Since arriving in Mongolia-- we've gotten lots of questions and emails from friends, family, and people interested in where we are, what were doing, and how we do it!

One issue that seems to consistently pop up is our location and language. Many people think that we are living in the Chinese province of Inner Mongolia-- while we are in fact living in the very independent, very much separate country of Mongolia. The Chinese population sometimes refers to it as "Outer Mongolia," but this in fact is pretty offensive to most Mongolians.

Most recently, we recieved our alumni magazine from Ripon College. We eagerly flipped through the pages, very much interested in all things Ripon, and all the amazing construction and improvements happening! When we came to the Class Notes section, however, we noticed a glaring mistake in the information about us. In the magazine, it says that we are "of Mongolia, China." This is simply not the case! Any information blurring our residency, specifically between Mongolia and China, is a bit of sensitive subject for us, because we very much want information regarding our Peace Corps service location, and our location in life, in general, to be accurate.

The problem is that, for some reason, many people have already confused Mongolia with China. Yes, it is true that Inner Mongolia is a region of China sharing a name, and distant ethnic history. It is also true that our mailing address includes "via China," as mail in this part of the world is generally routed through China. We are, however, very much living in the country of Mongolia, a developing, large, landlocked country in Central Asia, sandwiched between Russia and China, with a population of only 2 million. They have one of the oldest used languages, Mongolian, with many dialects and written scripts. We live in the city of Darkhan, and really enjoy the work that we do here, and the Mongolian people have shared an immense amount of culture and their heritage with us, and we have grown sensitive, like them, to Mongolia being forgotten or mixed up with the Chinese province of Inner Mongolia.

Into the Winter Fog

I recently recalled my most vivid memory from the summer. I went out for what I thought would be a short run in the hills. The -20 plus temperature and the fresh snow were all the more incentive to get out into the sun of the late morning. The opening to the hills, just across the street from our apartment, the gateway to the best running space of my life, welcomed me yet again, this time a good three weeks since I’d last entered it.

After about twenty minutes, I decided to venture off the paths, paths with which I felt too familiar. I turned into a great valley and set my sights on a hill in the distance, a summit I’d many times before considered making. On the white steppe there was an open space between two herds, one of horses, the other sheep. I split them, crossing over the vast land, dipping down in to and out again of crevasses. With a stone in my right hand I jogged onward, looking around every so often for wolves and wild dogs. In the distance, off to the North, I could see two herders on horseback in their winter dels (Mongolian traditional clothing) surveying their flock. The air was cold but fresh. This was as far off a path as I’d ever been in Mongolia. There was nothing to keep me safe but the stone in my hand and the legs keeping me moving. I had no water, no phone, but I was dressed for the occasion, I had my music keeping me going, and, as always, I was ready for the next adventure.

I was exhilarated and already exhausted! I felt great. I thought about Mongolia, how I didn’t want to go back to work, how I’d never been anywhere like this before. Despite wearing three layers of socks, I hoped the snow, at times to my ankles, wouldn’t make it through my tennis shoes. Always searching for the best places to step, the snow much deeper in some spots than others, I, slowly but surely, crossed the wide valley.

After an hour or so, I had reached the base of my destination. I stopped and looked up. Summit wasn’t that far, but could I really run to the ovoo (sacred rock piles marking sacred locations and stops along roads and paths)? The face was stony, like most of the smaller hills here and similar to hikes in the Rockies. I began my ascent determined to hop my way to the top. Finding the footing too inconsistent and my breath shorter than usual, I hiked the remainder of the rough face. Keeping a steady clip, I moved quickly up the hillside.

As I reached summit, I felt a new kind of cold. Now at the highest point in the area, I could see not only the openness, but I could feel it too. It was beautiful. This was my first winter climb in Darkhan. All was white and quiet. When I began my run, I was entranced by the majestic white fog that hung in the distance. I made it my goal to get there. There was something mysterious and wonderful, and, with the way it was pulled and pushed by the wind, even tempestuous, about the whole scene. For a time, the sun seemed to stay away, waiting for the whisking whiteness to settle itself. I’d seen these hills in all of their autumnal beauty, but nothing in that season was quite as inviting as this. Once at hilltop, I placed the rock in my hand atop the ovoo and circled it three times, offering prayers for a safe journey and a Packers victory on the upcoming Sunday. I found a seat on a flat rock and I took it all in. As I gazed outward, the mist hanging everywhere else, yet not enough to keep me from admiring grand valleys, hill spines and mountains far off, I felt I knew exactly why I was supposed to be in Mongolia – for moments like these. I estimated that I’d probably been gone around three hours now. The frigid wind on my face, above my nose and beneath my eyebrows, was intense, even painful, burning. My legs were sore. My shoulders ached. The quickly cooling sweat on my back beneath my layers, my gloves sticking to my Shuffle reminded me I hadn’t as long up there as I would like. I was completely at peace, in just the place I knew I was meant to be at that moment. I closed my eyes thinking of the ease with which I could breathe, thinking that despite the rigors of my life in the last six months, there were moments like these.

In this place, I recalled my most vivid memory from the summer. The heat was oppressive, keeping me still and unwilling to move. Shaded beneath the outdoor kitchen on the lone bench outside the house of my host family, I sat silent and alone with my eyes closed enjoying an unfamiliar cooling breeze. On break between lessons at the school and awaiting what would undoubtedly be a hot lunch and tea prepared by Eej (Mother), I sat leg-stretched thinking about where I wanted to be exactly at that moment – right there. The invigorating air swept over my skin and re-enlivened my mind. For the first time in weeks I was able to think clearly. I hoped that across the field dividing us Cady had found a cool spot too. I thought about language training, cross culture, my new friends, how much everything had changed in the last month. I thought about Mongolia and how right it felt to be there. I smiled as I thought of home, wondering what everyone was doing and if they were all as happy as I was at that moment. For twenty minutes the air was different, the heat was gone and I was in a different Mongolia, in a different place in my life that I hadn’t known existed.

Sitting atop my unforgiving hilltop, I considered how special a moment this was, this, not just another summit, this, not just a new space, but rather, this, another different place, a different Mongolia, a different me. I was humbled. I was thankful. And I was cold. Looking out, I mapped out my route back home – scale down the southward spine, meet up with a herder’s trail and take it all the way across the valley and in to town.

With my left hand covering my face, I made my way down the hill. I moved again into a jog, watching carefully my footing as the rocks were loose and unstable. With each step, I quickened my pace into a run so that by the time I reached the base I was in a decent sprint. The cold was manageable again.

I felt the exhaustion of my journey thus far but felt inspired by the long and open road ahead of me. A well-traveled, well-worn path, this trek had most certainly been taken by many a herder and his flock. Free from the snow of the surrounding everywhere else, I was able to move quickly through the extensive and beautiful valley. In the distance to either side, tall chains of hills kept my focus forward to where in a long way off I could see where they might end. Recalling confrontations in trips past with guardians of these hills, I slowed my clip every quarter of a mile, spun around and once again surveyed the open land for wolves and wild dogs. There were no threats in sight. In point of fact, I was more concerned with my endurance. I was not sure how much further I would need to go and I was really starting to feel the arduousness of my journey.

After another mile or so, I came to a fork in the trail. I took what I thought was a direct path into Darkhan. After another quarter of a mile, I reached the ger districts (peri-urban areas on the outskirts of cities predominantly lined with gers (traditional Mongolian yurts) that are overcrowded and have limited access to running water, sanitation or proper heating). I knew that I was now at the furthest point on the opposite side of where I needed to get. I was saddened to no longer be where I was, but encouraged to be that much closer to home. The dichotomy was great. The hills were a winter wonderland of steppe and snow, the furthest point from any pollution I had been to in Darkhan. Outside of the area of industry, the “Drunken Hill” ger district is one of the most polluted locations, with its coal-burning gers and wooden houses, an area of great poverty.

As I made my way into this part of town, I slowed to a walk as exhaustion and poor breathing air got the best of me. And because I had never before been there, I was struck hard by the quality of living, the contrast between this side of the hill and the other. This, I could only imagine, was a harder life. It was certainly a slower pace of life. I thought about my students. I thought about how it was possible that many of them lived in districts similar to this one. I should consider this more when I am teaching, I thought. I cannot push my agenda on them, but rather I need to consider their needs, their abilities and their perspectives more seriously. I must narrow the gap which most certainly exists. And here I could really see that gap. I was greeted with more “unwanted attention” than I had been accustomed to in Darkhan. To those who stared in my direction, I simply did not fit in there. I, too, was struck by my unfamiliarity with this place. How different it was than where I had just been. How different this was than the Darkhan I knew. In many ways it reminded me of my host community in Bagh 5. Yet its greatest difference was just how large it was. It is said that somewhere around 100,000 people live in Darkhan. Walking around the city, one would be hard pressed to believe this. Now I did.

After walking quite a distance and not yet getting to the other side or locating any place familiar in the distance, I decided to take a hard left and head to higher ground where I could get a better look around. Passing by delguurs (small stores which sell groceries, clothing and/or other goods), hashaas (fences, but also the areas enclosed by those fences) and wild dogs, I felt like I was in a maze. I could not simply go straight up as hashaa walls forced me to wind my way before continuing higher. I was growing concerned, as my impeccable knack for getting myself lost seemed to be rearing its ugly head once again. I was relieved then when I made it to the edge and the only thing before me was the hill over which I was hoping to see Darkhan.

I first made my way down into a trench and then upward again. When I reached the top of the hill, my greatest fear was realized. I was lost. I could see nothing in the distance, the fog was too thick. What little I could see, I did not recognize. For a minute, panic overtook me. It was beginning to get dark now, I hadn’t had water in probably well over four hours, and I did not know how much further I could travel in my fatigued state. Up higher on the hill, I saw a herder and a flock of thirty or so sheep and goats. Considering my options and fearing I had simply gone too far into the ger district passed Darkhan, I made my way to him. My plan, I thought, will be to explain my situation to him and ask for directions. How could this have happened, I thought? I began waving to the herder. Why does this always happen to me?

And then, just as quickly as the panic had come over me, a wave of clarity hit me. I stopped. I turned around. I cleared my mind. I think I know where I am, I thought. And sure enough, I was exactly where I needed to be. In fact, I was on one of my old and more familiar running trails. With hope restored and a last little bit of energy mustered, I began to run again. I was running on fumes, but I knew I how close I was. I could be home in another thirty minutes. By now my black gloves were colored a heavy white. The exterior of the black Loki covering my face was also thick with ice. The interior was soaked from the perspiration of my breathing and sagging down below my nose. So wet and heavy, it had held up brilliantly. The air I was breathing was still warm. My Shuffle was, more or less, glued to my glove. But, the music played on! The layers closest to my body were heavy with sweat and the outer shells were just barely keeping out the cold.

Running down that last short hill, home less than a hundred yards away, I reflected on the run, that the best part was how each turn came as it did, how it took me on a journey through my own backyard, and that all along the way, I still enjoyed the wind on my face.

Festivus

If you’ve seen the Seinfeld episode you’ll remember that Frank Costanza explains to Kramer that instead of celebrating Christmas he prefers a “Festivus for the rest of us” free from commercialization, pomp and pageantry. Festivus, he recalls, is threefold: 1) instead of a Christmas tree and tinsel, there is a single aluminum pole, 2) instead of expressing well wishes, there is an airing of grievances and 3) instead of opening gifts, there are feats of strength.

Inspired by Frank’s revolutionary holiday, we, the 13 or so PCVs, 1 German volunteer and 1 VSO volunteer, decided to have our own New Years Festivus celebration. 3 apartments were chosen to host different legs of our moving Darkhan Festivus. Beginning at 3:00, at the first stop, we began with a feat of strength: drinking local "Kick-a-Poo" brand juice with pickles and eating tofu hushuur followed by taking a shot of vodka.

From there we walked to the market and hired 3 horse cart drivers to take us from one end of town to the other (a “tradition” begun last year). As we huddled together for warmth, drinking our homemade Kahlua, we were greeted with mixed Mongolian reactions, some yelling “Happy New Year!,” and most just staring dumbfounded.... It could just be that we were singing "Star Spangled Banner" instead of more traditional, jolly carols.

Cady and Peter after horse cart ride

When we reached our destination, stop number two, we watched, for collective edification, the aforementioned Seinfeld episode. Afterwards, we were treated to an edible multi-faceted diorama of food representing many of Mongolia’s local "intricacies" as "witnessed" by the present company. When the picture had been consumed we moved into the next feat of strength: leg wrestling. There were many rounds, many winners and a lot of laughing. Equally hilarious was the airing of grievances that followed. On a sheet of paper we each wrote those things which had grieved us in the past year. Needless to say, most of what everyone wrote down was seconded by the confirming fits of laughter among the others in the room. It was decided, after reading every grievance, that the leaves of paper should be set ablaze.

Melinda explains the edible picture

Kevin and Peter Leg Wrestle

This one's for you, Grandpa!

So, by foot or taxi we all moved to our final location where our first act of business (if you don’t count the pizza that I and a few others wolfed down before everyone had arrived) was to burn our grievances. With the grill a cookin’, we fried the brats a friend had brought back from Germany, ate pizza and ravioli and drank homemade piña coladas and Kahlua, vodka and beer. And with the empty beer cans we were finally able to construct the last component of Festivus – the aluminum pole. We hung out, drank, made balloon animals and toilet seats, and performed the final feat of strength: wall squats. We rang in the New Year standing around the Festivus pole. With drinks in hand and music filling the room we began 2008 with a dance party.

Cady about to "drop the ball" just seconds before the strike of midnight

Ahh, Festivus...

First picture of 2008!

Gold's Gym Mongolia

2 days ago I joined one of Mongolia’s few workout facilities, a small room in a building near the market near Cady’s office, about a 15 minute run from our apartment.

3 days ago I ran to the gym intending to “join.” When I arrived, however, the door in the front lobby leading to the stairway leading to the gym on the 3^rd floor was locked. I was told by the jijuur that I would have to wait 40 minutes until the gym opened at 5:00 p.m. Okay, whatever. So I ran the 3-story steps leading up the back side of the building. I was getting bored after awhile so I went back to the lobby to check the time. 4:40. The jijuur was gone. I sat down on the lone bench. I waited for another 10 minutes. As my impatience was growing thin, a man in full camouflage gear walked passed me, a guy who clearly looked like he worked out. So I followed him. This time the door leading to the hallway was open. A good sign. As I reached the second landing, G. I. Dorj flew down passed me. He looked annoyed. Why? When I reached the gym I discovered why. The room where the equipment had once been (as I had once been there to check it out) was completely empty. I called Cady. She didn’t know why. I called Cady’s translator, a member of the gym. She said: “Tomorrow gym will be open 1 to 8. New Year’s party was there. Maybe tomorrow you will come back.” I ran home.

2 days ago I ran to the gym intending to “join.” This time I arrived well after the jijuur’s suggested opening time, covering all bases. When I reached the gym the equipment was still gone. In a nearby room, however, I heard voices. Inside I saw the owner (one of Cady’s CHF clients), her assistant, two young men and all of the exercise equipment. In Mongolian I asked if they needed help moving everything back into the bigger room. Yes, she said. And so began my 15, 000 per month T membership, carrying dumbbells, straight bars, plates, benches and carpets. By 6:30, I had started my workout.

Yesterday I ran to the gym. I worked out.

Tomorrow I will run to the gym…

High Above IST

Taking advantage of the great hiking and climbing, Jacob and I took it upon ourselves to explore the mountains around our IST (Peace Corps conference in mid-December) site. It was one of my favorite days since coming to Mongolia.

Jacob and Peter

A herder overlooking the valley below, the mountains in the distance

Just before our descent, a picture-perfect sunset