So, where to start? It's been awhile since I posted anything, and I have more things to say than I can cram into a one hour internet session at the local Net Cafe.
So, I'll start from this weekend.
I visited Gandan Khiid (monastery) on Saturday in downtown UB. It's basically one of only a handful of Buddhist monasteries NOT torn down by the Russian communists. The reason: so the Soviets had something to impress foreign visitors (the few and far between), and to keep them looking away from the crumbling apartment buildings and KGB satellite dishes.
There are better Buddhist temples in China and Tibet, but at least the lamas are free to worship and educate as they please here. Next to the main temple, an auxilliary temple housed about 50 children, all practicing to become lamas. But the main temple was the main attraction. It's over 30 meters tall with everything intact (I'll try to send a photo of it later). Inside resides a "merely" 20 meter tall gold-plated statue of a Buddhist god (the God of Longevity). This thing is HUGE and elaborate. Michelangelo's David in Florence, Italy is a doll figurine in comparison. It's actually a fairly new reproduction (the original was melted down and the copper was made into bullets for the Soviet army). I know this simply because Timultyn (my 21 year old host brother who came along with me) saw it for the first time. The last time he visited this temple he was 7 years old, and nothing was inside except a circle of prayer wheels. Prayer wheels are the big drum-like copper barrels that people spin around (like they do on the Price is Right) as they pray for happiness or spiritual salvation or a shiny, new car.
That's another thing I don't get about Mongolia. Here's a country that would be financially destitute if 30% of their GDP wasn't foreign aid. Here's a country where most of their social services are free, thanks to volunteers from other countries, thanks to a gazillion of Non-Government Agencies working in UB. But here is a city where everyone drives shiny, new Japanese, Korean and American cars. Half of the vehicles are burly Ford Expeditions, Isuzu Troopers, Nissan Patrols, and other SUV name brands (I even saw one Hummer). The other half are new Mercedes, Audis, Hyundais, and Hondas. Either SOMEONE is subsidizing all of these vehicles (because according to Mongols gas isn't cheap here...about US$2 a gallon) or UB residents are investing all their free money from the government on a new car. Most of these cars are diesel-guzzlers, so they emit black smoke. The last thing UB needs are more people buying cars. They don't even have enough money to maintain the roads, all their streets are too narrow for mass vehicle transit, nobody rides bikes (that would be a death wish in UB), a Red light means Go Faster in Mongolian, and their air quality is piss-poor to begin with (thanks to the 3 coal power plants in town, and I think one Nuclear). At any given moment (even at 3AM) I can hear the faint whine of car horns and car alarms. The car horns I can deal with (it's a part of city-life), but the car alarms are seriously distressing. Nobody pays any attention to them. Most alarms go off for no reason (perhaps a gentle rain?). Ten or twenty minutes can pass before their owners return and turn the alarm off. Vehicles are superfluous and everybody has one...so why would you want to steal one? I heard the most god-awful alarm the other night at 1AM. It sounded like somebody was leaning on their car horn. This went on for a good ten minutes, right outside my window. But here's the funny part: I asked my host family if they heard it; they didn't even wake up.
On Sunday I attended a Korean-based Presbyterian church with my host parents. I did this out of kindness and curiousity. When the inevitable questions popped up: Are you religious? Do you believe in God? Are you Protestant? A negative answer to any of these would've resulted in instant proselytizing. So I just said I was Christian, I was Baptist, and I hadn't been to church in awhile. That seemed to satisfy them. Though one overzealous churchgoer made absolute sure I had a translator for the sermon/lecture/brow-beating. I played along the whole time. The church service had a full band (electric and acoustic guitar, a bass, and a drumkit) and choir. So there was lots of singing and music and hand-clapping, which was nice to hear. The pastor's "tell them a story and then use this story as a metaphor for today's lecture" involved trying to steam dumplings in Germany. The point of the story was this: Just like Germans don't know how to steam dumplings, we do not know how to become Holy. We need the recipe of the Word of Christ. Without dutifully following this recipe, we will not make true dumplings, nor will we be Saved.
Afterwards, everyone piled into cars (at least 14 in my host parent's car alone) and drove the 30km into the countryside, where more lectures would be dispensed. The countryside was exquisite. It seriously looked like Eastern Oregon and especially Nevada out there. No trees (except near the Tuul River), endless grassland, dry desert, rocky mountains. Horses everywhere. The po-dunk town/village. Plastic bag tumbleweeds. Roaming cows and goats. The occasional mongrel mutt.
After about an hour of this, Davaa (my host father) and I drove back into town, to Ulaanbaatar University's gym, where a group of students and teachers assembled (as they do every Sunday evening) for sweating game of indoor soccer. Davaa can sure run around for his age (48). The other Mongols and Koreans (there is a very huge chunk of Koreans in UB; mostly from Seoul) were better ball-handlers, but I was a mean defender (and sometimes goalie). Only one goal got past me.
Tomorrow, Tuesday, I start teaching Beginning and Advanced English courses. I teach the Beginners Monday through Thursday from 10:30AM til 12:30PM. I teach the Advanced class Mondays through Thursdays from 2PM til 4PM. Fridays are reserved for First come, first served individual tutoring. I'll teach English for about a month (August 4th). After that...who knows? I don't really think I can do anything else at the station. I'm going to talk with my other contact in UB, the director of the Foreign Language learning center, and see if there's something for me to do there until I go home. I would like to shake things up a bit. Just getting to Mongol TV up on the hill will become tiresome.
To wit.
Today, I was punched in the stomach (on accident) by an 80 year old Mongol on the bus. Then, I witnessed this Grandpa be forcibly ejected from the bus (and I mean FORCIBLY, the old man DID NOT want to get off the bus and even made a mad scramble to reboard once he was finally off). The thing was, this man was drunk. He wanted to stand next to the bus driver, but this was off-limits. A younger Mongol (late 20s) kept his leg up to block the elder man. They argued a little...it sounded like the elder was giving a lecture to this younger person, throwing insults and the like. Eventually the younger Mongol bopped the old man on the head with his empty water bottle. It reminded me of an older brother teasing his younger infant brother. Then, the old man took a swing. Unfortunately, he swung wide and I was in the path of his fist. So I got an unexpected blow to the abs. After that, everybody kind of stepped back and watched as these two scuffled. The bus came to a stop and the elder was literally pulled off the bus. The driver had to help out, peeling the old man's fingers from his iron grip on the bus. After he was off, the driver closed the doors and drove about a block, where the younger guy caught up and reboarded. The other Mongols on the bus acted as if this was common. The New Mongolia is, of course, a youth culture. Respect for the elderly is in quick decline. And who can blame them? The elderly make up most of the drunks. They dress in traditional clothing. They are counterculture to the Youth in Asia.
(in a later blog, I will explain this whole youth explosion a little more. Until then...)
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