I just love China and the Chinese and how they like to take you on a trip around the block and then make you pay for it. At the airport, I had the simple question: Where do I check-in? So the "handy" airport help ushered me upstairs, down a long, long hallway, knocked on a few doors, knocked on a few more doors, finally taking me around the building one more time before pointing down to the check-in counters (about where I was standing when I asked him in the first place). And then, he demanded 20 yuan. $2.15 for nothing! I gave him 10 yuan to shut up and walked away.
Anyway, so I'm in Ulaanbaatar now. Yesterday my host family met me at the airport and drove me to their apartment (which they just moved into a few days ago, so everything's in disarray). Their oldest son speaks the best English, so it's fine when he's around. The father speaks very little. The mother speaks it enough to understand me when I tell her "I'm going to the internet cafe for two hours," so that's good.
Ulaanbaatar is crowded, pockmarked, crumbling, and traffic-jammed. I live in a "new" apartment building, which really just means the interior was renovated while the exterior is left without a paintjob. Anything that is not really REALLY necessary to build or install, isn't. Things like grassy lawns, or lawns at all, is nonsensical in a place that freezes over come October. It seems that if Mongols want some fresh air and green grass, they just get in their brand new SUV and drive a few miles out of town. Beyond UB, the land is wild and untamed.
But in UB, which is where I'll be most of my time here, it's a different picture. The streets are too small to accomodate everyone's SUV. In the words of my host mother, "Mongols drive like they ride their horses." Rough and tumble.
Powerlines are everywhere. People are everywhere (along the main routes at least...on the sidestreets in residential areas, it's actually quite peaceful). The only thing to keep me awake at night is the next-door neighbor using a powertool to drill nails in the wall. That, and howling dogs, screaming babies. These things echo loudly between the apartment bloc buildings.
I get my own room with my Mongol host family. I feel sort of bad about it. The two parents sleep in a queen size bed with two of their youngest children. The other two oldest boys share a room with a bunkbed. I get my own room with a door that opens to a balcony (that overlooks pockmarked apartments, but still). I get a mattress (the boys sleep on mats) and a desk with ample closet space. Half of my room sits unoccupied. But, when you consider I'm paying a considerable amount per month for rent ($200; the avg. mongol makes $50/month), the host family is making a good, healthy profit off of me. If it will help put their oldest son through medical school, than all the better.
The food is generally good. Last night my host mom made stir-fry. Tonight she promises a "traditional" mongol dish. Today at work I ate Mongol cafeteria food and it actually tasted very American (something maybe served at dinner in the plains states...those places still untouched by International Cuisine and all its ethnocentric fallout).
I've also decided to change my travel dates and return to the States two weeks early. I need extra time to prepare for my senior year in college, among other reasons. Mr. Batzorig, my boss, supports my decision and will even help me change my ticket at the local airline office.
I need to go soon, so I won't go into details about Mongol TV (where I'll be working), except that it will be VERY flexible (i can set my own hours) and I will be teaching/tutoring workers there in English skills (at least for the first few weeks). Also, I'll have to take a bus to and from work every day. That should be a happy nightmare from time to time...
Over and out til next time (the Net cafe is a block away from where I'm living, so it's a cinch to do this email thing, for good or ill).
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