On Friday, I tried to see a Mongolian-made movie called "The Cave of the Yellow Dog." If you are media-savvy, you might've heard of a movie that was nominated for Best Foreign Film called "The Story of the Weeping Camel." Well, this is by the same director, and it was shot this year. So the premiere of the movie was at the local cineplex, unfortunately, when I got to the cineplex, apparently this is a "limited engagement" which means only one showing per day at 7 pm. The rest of the theaters are busy showing "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," "The Ring Two," and some Korean flick around the clock. But a movie made by Mongolian talent gets short-shrift because Mongolians won't pay $1.50 to see it when they can see an EXCELLENT movie named "The Ring Two." I hesitated before I bought a ticket for Mr. and Mrs. Smith, thinking it would be excellent being able to say I saw "Astoria" on film in Mongolia. However, the Ring Two is such that even sitting through it on a lazy Friday afternoon would be excruciating. Gimmick reasoning lost out to "something I haven't seen," which was a flick that actually held my attention, much to my surprise.
On Friday night my host parents finally took me to Terelj, the local National Park. I held out hopes that this would be an outing unaffiliated with the church (since church events inevitably means carloads of people, bible study, screaming babies, etc.), but I was wrong. The good news is that we stayed overnight. So in theory we "camped." The elders got to sleep in the yurt, I slept in a cheap Chinese tent. The other good news about church functions is that there aren't any shortages of good food. In this case, another khorhog was prepared for lunch. Can't beat a meal of tender mutton chewed off the bone, plus muttoned potatoes and carrots. I'm being serious, actually. It will be quite difficult in a few days, when I'm back in the USSR, and "meat" means a gardenburger or chicken, thawed and fried.
Terelj truly was worth the wait. The rocks formations that seemed to simply rise out of the rolling green hills were a welcome change of pace. I saw the famous "Turtle Rock", which looks like a Turtle from a certain angle (someone got a postcard with this image on it...). I saw an "Old Man Reading a Book" which, again, looked uncanny. Though I wouldn't call him an "old" man. Even teenagers hunch over when they are reading a book.
I especially enjoy Davaa's driving. He's one of those drivers that makes you think, as he stops in the middle of the road to sniff mushrooms for sale, the trucks and cars honking and swerving out of the way, "how did they let this guy pass his driver's test?" On the road out of Terelj, we saw a minivan turned upsidedown in the middle of the road. It was probably just trying to pass on a blind curve, something Davaa does at every chance. I don't think Mongolians know how aggressive they are behind the wheel.
Also of curiousity was the "traffic cop" who waved our car to the side of the road, simply to give Davaa a "warning" to wear his seat belt. The poor man didn't even know where his seatbelt was. Every time I get in the passengers seat (the only seat with a seatbelt), Davaa waves at me to stop putting on my seatbelt. I ignore him, of course. Wearing a seatbelt is like putting on sunscreen in Mongolia: it's simply not done, nor are any available.
The lack of sunscreen is probably less of a health threat than lack of seatbelts (or the pomposity to refuse to wear them), but dear god, how do you live someplace with zero humidity, no cloud cover, and NOT get skin cancer in the course of your life. I searched at the Sky Shopping Plaza (probably the best, well-stocked shopping center in all of Mongolia... the kind catering to foreigners, naturally) and still couldn't find a simple sunblock with SPF 15. Instead I got a bottle of "sun creme" (Made in Turkey), that had everything spelled in Turkish, so even the Mongolian shop attendant couldn't say if it was a sun "block" or "sunburn relief." She hadn't a clue when I asked her at first, "Where is the sunscreen section?"
So, first things first: when you go to Mongolia, bring sunscreen. Boatloads of it.
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