Saturday

02:00

A frantic pounding on my door woke me from a light slumber. It can be difficult to sleep during a Mongolian spring. The wind, which contented itself with being frigid but relatively light all winter, has returned with what can only be described as a homicidal vengeance. My entire ger shifts with the force of the gusts, my door shudders, the stove pipe clangs against the roof and all the while I toss and turn on my wooden-plank bed and wonder why I ever thought the sound of a windstorm was pleasant. Anyway, the knocks on my door were soon accompanied by cries of “Ash-bagshaa!” (Ash-teacher) that had me scrambling out of my sleeping bag and clumsily pulling on a sweater as I headed toward the door. Outside, I found my seven-year-old khashaa sister, her little cousin and one of my fifth grade students all huddling in my ping (a small shed-like building right outside my door that helps with temperature control in the winter). Apparently, the khashaa guard dog was sleeping in front of the door to the main house and the kids couldn’t get past it because they’re afraid of him. So, I stepped into my shoes and led them the ten feet to the house and distracted the dog (who isn’t mean at all, but he can be a little overenthusiastic when it comes to pets) while they went inside. It wasn’t until I returned to my ger and climbed back into bed that I even thought to wonder why three kids were running around outside at 2 o’clock in the morning.

09:20

Today started, as the past few days have, with a windstorm strong enough to send the photographs and cards I have over my bed cascading down onto my head. Not the most pleasant awakening; though I was having a disturbing dream so it wasn’t an entirely unwelcome awakening. Reading Stephen King before bed is probably not the wisest decision. In true weekend spirit, I decided to roll over and doze for a bit and not subject myself to reality until I absolutely had to. Though the worst of winter is, hopefully, behind us, mornings can still be chilly and I wasn’t in a hurry to leave my warm nest of blankets. Of course, the weather had different plans for me. Less than twenty minutes later it started hailing and I had to get out of bed, go outside and close the canvas flap over my windows or have hail and snow/rain falling onto my stove for who knows how long. As it turns out, it would’ve only been for about an hour.

My morning was spent comfortably lazy; aside from the hail-issue. I had a cup of coffee (instant from America, slightly less disappointing than instant from Mongolia) and turned my left-over mashed potatoes from the night before into a sort-of potato pancake to eat with my yogurt and apple. A satisfactory Mongolian breakfast, if I do say so myself. I finished Salem’s Lot; which was, after a truly wretched and slow start, not too bad of a book. I’m still not convinced Stephen King is as scary as others claim but he’s not bad once he actually gets going.

In the afternoon, my khashaa family invited me over for lunch; a very proper Mongolian meal of fried meat, rice, potatoes and eggs. We watched a few Mongolian shows then my khashaa sisters came to my ger to watch an American movie. Let me tell you, trying to get those three to decide on a movie to watch was not easy. In the end, the oldest one and I watched the new(ish) Dracula; the one with Luke Evans. I was pleased to discover that I could explain the good majority of what was happening to her in Mongolian. Some parts I could even translate word-for-word. It was a triumphant moment.

(Can we just take a moment to appreciate this man? He's epic. A great actor with a wonderful voice and a smile that's contagious. Love him!)

Since then, I’ve been messing around on the internet. Made a new blog that I’m dedicating to the small ramblings I come up with when I’m left alone/idle for too long. A VERY common occurrence here let me tell you. I’ve begun to carry around a small notebook that I can write my little philosophies in while I’m waiting for this, that, or the other to start. It was a nice Saturday. Calm (aside from the wind), not hideously cold, and I didn’t have to leave my khashaa. Tomorrow I’ll actually have to be productive. I have groceries to buy, laundry to do, hair to wash and the ever present need to sweep or otherwise clean my get.  But for now, I’ve been a good little PCV and updated my blog not once but twice and now I’ll probably go waste time on pintrest. Because it’s my day off, damnit, and I’ve earned it. 

I'm a baaaad blogger... Now illustrated!

Hey, look who accidentally took a break from blogging for the winter… So, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d horrible at blogging. Utterly terrible. In truth, I just don’t get it. I don’t quite get why someone wants to sit at their computer and read about my life. Even if that life is currently being lived in the middle of the Gobi desert. But, I do understand that I have friends and family that want to keep tabs on me so, I’m going to start treating this like a digital journal instead of a blog. I’m sure there are some of you out there who are just itching to yell at me about semantics but what can I say? I’m an odd creature, at times. So, a quick review of the winter before we head into the spring journal.

It was cold. Seriously. That’s what I’ve got. It was really, really cold. Like, too cold to snow. Too cold to go outside without three or four layers on. So cold that the refuse in the outhouse froze solid. My home went from Tattooine to Hoth in less than in month. Except, it snows on Hoth, so I bet Hoth is warmer than Mongolia in the winter. That being said, I survived. I kept my fire going as much as possible, I kept at least two layers on almost 24/7 and I drank enough hot tea and coffee to fill a small lake. School has continued with the ups-and-downs that every teacher faces. Some students love your subject; some students would rather be anywhere else. At least most students like me enough not to be completely unbearable. I’ve only had to get really terse with my classes a few times. My younger classes learned the lesson immediately and have been remarkably well behaved since. My older classes, not so much. But, they’re almost done with this school. They’ll be going to the larger town to finish out their scholastic careers and in about a month, they’ll be done with me and they know it.

As far as the holiday season, I’ve survived both Shine Jil (New Year) and Tsagaan Sar (White Month) without too much difficulty. Many PCVs dedicate entire posts to their experiences with these major Mongolian holidays but I’ve never been much for holidays and, quite frankly, I’m still so relieved that they’re over that I don’t want to dwell on them. Maybe later I’ll put something up about them. In all likelihood, it’s be next year when they roll around again. I received some truly marvelous care packages from friends and family. I really can’t over state how much those mean to me. The goodies are wonderful, of course, but it’s the reminder of home that makes them truly marvelous. The affirmation that there are still people back there who love me and who think about me is an astounding source of comfort and courage when the truth of my situation becomes a little too much.

And I’ll be honest, there are times when the realization of what I’ve gotten myself into is daunting. Feeling like the “odd-man-out” is not an entirely new feeling for me but I have never experienced it as acutely as I have since coming to live in my little soum (village). I’m the only foreigner for miles. In some cases, I’m the only foreigner the people living here have ever seen in person. Because of this, I literally can’t walk from my ger to the store (a five minute walk) without being stared at and called out to. Fortunately, 99% of those calls have been friendly but even so, the complete inability to be anonymous is exhausting. I can’t do anything without half my soum knowing about it 30 minutes later. If there’s an event and I’m not there, everyone knows and wants to know why. If there’s an event and I go, I’m immediately on everyone’s radar and they all want me to participate somehow. As someone who walks the line between extrovert and introvert very carefully, I can’t overstate how distressing this can be. And yet, despite all the attention I get there are moments when I’m just so lonely. No amount of “Сайн уу! Амьдрал ямар байна?” (Hi! How’s life?) can make up for a conversation between two people who understand each other explicitly; without the need to translate or explain cultural norms or idioms. I am liked here, people care about me and about my well-being but there are times when I might as well be from another planet.

Despite this, however, I am mostly happy. I like teaching, I like the people I work with and my family, I like my students. I have friends, we make jokes and laugh, they try to speak English, I try to speak Mongolian, and the woman who runs the store closest to me gives me little cookies or candies every time I come to buy yogurt. Life is, for the most part, good.