Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!

Sometimes there's something blog-worthy, but no photo to go along with it.  Such is the case today.  Last night, Kevin, two other teachers and I went to the Jur Ur Bakery for an after-teaching supper.  The weather was so nice that the bakery had propped their door open.  In walked a cat. 

When I went to sit down at the only empty table, the cat was under the bench where I'd be seated soon.  One of the young men who works at the bakery was trying, and failing, at getting the cat to come out.  Just for fun, I said, "Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty," in my best cat talk voice.  I wiggled my fingers as if I had something to feed the unsuspecting cat.  I really had no vision of what would happen next.  The cat came out obediently and started to follow me.  I kept doing the same "cat call" and finger wiggling, sure that any moment the cat was going to get a clue, disattach from me, and run across the restaurant.  Amazingly, the cat walked right out the door with me, as I kept saying in a cooing, high-pitched voice, "Here Kitty, Kitty...."  I felt like most of the people in that bakery were watching the crazy "Cat Whisperer from America" usher the cat out, but I think I was a hero in the eyes of the young man who had tried to kick the cat out.  He said, "Thank You!" and shut the door to keep the cat out. 

Cats are not well loved by all Mongolians, so I'm sure it wasn't good business to let the cat stay as a guest.

A little side note: This is the bakery that has sometimes closed its doors to us right as we walk in at 8:30, even though the closing time is posted as 9 p.m.  Maybe they'll keep their doors open to us in the future?  Not sure!

My Weight Training Program

I bought groceries yesterday (ignore the totally incorrect date stamp on this photo!  I'm not sure how it got that way!).  Back in my U.S. life, I went to an athletic club to lift weights and run.  Now I carry groceries for a 10 minute walk and balance myself on slippery sidewalks.  Sand and salt aren't used here.  I often talk to the Father about keeping my footsteps firm as I walk to and from the grocery store or market. 

So, these were my many purchases on Saturday morning at the market.  Most items were purchased at individual vendors, much like a farmer's market (but inside). 

My fulfilled grocery list all fit into my large back pack.  The bags in the midle are: 1 kilo of potatoes, 1/2 kilo of chocolate caramels for our Thanksgiving party on Sunday evening, and 200 grams of prunes and dates (she mixed them...to save a bag!).  The square packages in the pack are napkins.  And the far right, back cans are corn...another Thanksgiving party staple!

I stopped at a little store on the way home since I hadn't found baking powder at the market.  I was hoping it would be at the little store (there's a thousand...no a million..."ma and pa" stores in UB, some of which are smaller than a normal bedroom)!  I squatted down to look at a bottom shelf and fell over backwards because I wasn't ready to be thrown off balance by my heavy load.  I burst out with a guffaw.  I was hoping nobody noticed.  I'm sure they did!  Sometimes I just can't help but crack myself up, thinking how I must look like a crazy American!

Go Green!

Something strange, yet interesting happened in UB last Saturday.  There was a "Green Party" in the main area of downtown (which includes the block where we live).  Streets were blocked off; buses and cars weren't allowed on the streets.  Everyone was encouraged to walk, bike, or skate to their destinations.  It was amazing.  As you can see from the photo below, it was a beautiful, blue-sky day, and only a light jacket was needed. 



The Flower Center corner is usually FULL of traffic from 7 a.m. until 9 p.m.  Last year, we lived right across the street from this Flower Center building (our first apartment March 2010 until September 2010).  Here, you can see fashionable ladies and gentlemen, taking advantage of the freedom to walk down the middle of the street since cars and buses had been banned from the streets for 7 hours on Saturday.


 I must say, it was eery. I felt like perhaps aliens had descended on the city and stolen all the vehicles. It was amazing walking through these streets with no exhaust fumes puffing up into my lungs.

This platform, usually used by policemen to direct traffic, is being used during the "Green Party" time, as a stage for a singer who was working on a music video.

The Green Party was from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. We were back in our apartment by 4:45, and it wasn't long before I started to hear the honking of impatient drivers who had finally been let loose.


I would love to see this happen more often.  It makes me wonder how it might improve the pollution levels by just subtracting a few hours of traffic exhaust in the center of the city?!

Reactions of the Heart

Yesterday, my friend Nara (the woman I met at the UPS counter one year ago, this month) and I went on an errand.  We were searching for a fabric store so I could get a little piece of fabric (50 X 50 cm) to create a corner for our fitted bed sheet since we have to "enlarge" that sheet to fit our new apartment's ultra-huge bed!  It was Sunday at 6 p.m. and the fabric stores we found had all closed.  We walked for 40 minutes on this search.  However, I DID get a strip of elastic for a mere 300 Tugriks (about 24 cents) to help with the project. 

Why am I writing about a seemingly non-descript event?  Well, I'm glad you asked....

As we walked on the busy sidewalk, we were talking, exchanging words in English and Mongolian.  We were enjoying our "tutoring" of one another and very absorbed in each other, not our surroundings.  As we talked, we were facing forward, but one moment, I turned to look Nara in the eye.  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a man right up close to my back, in fact, he was digging in my backpack and I hadn't felt a thing!  Yikes!  I whipped around and caught his hand.  Our eyes met, and he quickly turned away and went slinking away in embarrassment and defeat.  My heart was angry with him.  I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him in Mongolian.  As Nara and I checked my bag to make sure nothing was missing, we talked about what I could've said to him.  "Yamar buduuthlek yume bey!" would be, "What a rude person you are!"  I practiced it a few times out loud with Nara and she laughed, "Ahh, that's perfect!" 

Since then, I've thought about the event over and over.  I have thought, "How could I have been a light that shined in a dark place?"  Even though my human side really wanted to chew him out and make him "lose face" (be embarrassed in front of the crowd), I have also been thinking of how I should've responded.  I've also thought about how my reactions show my heart more than my actions.  How life-changing it could be if I'd respond with "Yesus chamdt hartai" ("Jesus loves you").  I need to be prepared.  Reactions in a foreign language are more difficult than in my mother tongue, because the words don't come naturally...they must be thought out...how do I put them together?  And that's hard to do in a split second.  However, I'll be rehearsing a different phrase than I originally intended.

What is a "Culture Day"?

In schools across America, they might experience a "Culture Day".  This usually means they go to an opera, museum, or dance presentation to experience their culture on a field trip.  It might mean that each student dresses up to represent a different culture.  They might bring food from their original ethnicity for others to try.

In our present situation, when we say, "I've had a Culture Day," that doesn't always mean a good thing.  It usually means, "I've been irritated by the culture and I'm trying to become non-irritated."  Sometimes it can mean, "Wow, I learned something valuable about the culture."  So, here's a few recent "Culture Days".  Fortunately, it takes several of these items to pile up into one day now for me to feel like I've had a truly bad "Culture Day".

-I don't realize how easy it is for me to pass money to a vendor with my left hand (oops!  Bad!) or to put the money in between my pointer and middle finger to hand it over (another "bad").  It is similar to "giving someone the finger" in the U.S.  Granted, I don't even notice when I handle money "improperly" sometimes, but I'm sure the vendor ALWAYS notices, right?  Would we not ALWAYS notice if someone walked by giving us the finger?  So, I'm trying to be more cautious and conscious of this.  However, I've been alerted twice in the past week by a teammate that I did each of those things.  Ergggh!

-When walking through the crowded market, it's totally normal to have someone slide their hand into the middle of my back if they want to get through.  They do this to everyone.  Words are not used.  And, culturally, I'm used to saying, "Excuse me," but that's not necessary here.  Sometimes, I say "Ochleray" ("sorry") to signify...."sorry, I need to get through" and that seems to be okay.  I'm still trying to figure out if that's a crazy word to use in that scenario, but for now, it seems to work.  I also, quite often, press my hand gently into someone's back to move through some congestion.  I feel so smug when I get it done successfully.  I hope I don't forget this summer and do this in Walmart!

-Taxi drivers.  Ahhhh, they are a culture of their own.  I have so many taxi driver stories.  A recent "bad" culture day about a month ago included TWO taxi drivers on the negative side and a third one who made up for the other two.  All in one day.  I was in a hurry to get to a school.  I was late, and caught a taxi.  He drove for about a kilometer, and then informed me that we'd be stopping for some benzine (gas).  What!?!  The question in my mind was, "Why in the world did you pick up a customer if you need to get gas?  Get the gas FIRST, then pick up customers."  Ahh, but that is not their thinking.  Their thinking is, "Catch the money while it presents itself, and infringe on the customer's time to sit and wait to get gas."  After all, it is totally acceptable to be late in Mongolia.  But, I'm American, and it's very hard to set aside my American mindset.  I called the director of the school to tell her I'd be late and asked her if I should get out of this taxi and get another one.  "Oh, don't worry...just get here when you can!" was her reply.  So, the knot left my stomach. 

After school was finished, I caught a second taxi.  He decided to run an errand with me in the car, too!  What?  Two in one day?!  He drove to his apartment a few blocks away to go get his coat.  Again, the question in my mind: "Why pick up a customer BEFORE your errand?  Go get your coat and THEN get a customer.  I could be on my merry way in another taxi rather than waiting in front of this apartment building."  Before he got out of the car, I pointed to my watch and said, "Hoyer minute (2 minutes)."  He shook his head.  Several minutes later, I was still waiting, and I got out of the taxi and caught a different one. 

This third taxi driver was a breath of fresh air.  He had a 10 year old daughter in the back seat, and he chatted away with me in Mongolian and English as we each asked and answered questions in each other's languages.  It was actually fun and soothed my seething irritation. 

-Another cultural experience: many areas of town do not have drainage.  Usually this is no problem because of our low precipitation.  When we get snow in the winter, it's snow flurries.  Maybe twice this past winter was it enough to actually remove with shovels; it is usually removed with little brooms.  It is too cold to precipitate very often, and we are in a desert-type land.  However, spring has come, and we had two days of rain (and not even torrential rain), and now there are little lakes around town.  Out by the school I work at, there's a lake on the road.  So, one must be careful how one walks around town.  I have been splashed by passing cars as I travel by foot.  A teammate shared yesterday how she had to walk on a cement structure to get through a flooded area, and how humurous it was that there was quite a line of people gathering to walk across that area (I'm assuming one way, so there had to be a "taking turns" situation...which is another whole story).

-Okay...taking turns: Kevin and I were at a phone store, getting our service extended so we don't lose our phone numbers over the summer while we're in the U.S.  Fortunately, we found a man who knew some English, and I told him what I knew we wanted in Mongolian (and he laughed at my pronunciation...another cultural irritation since I don't laugh at their English pronunciations which are incorrect!).  However, during our transaction, at least three people came up, butted in line, and asked this man questions.  Finally, I put my hand out and said, "Ogweeeee! (NO!)" and pointed to the man helping us and then me as if to say, "Can't you see, we are doing this transaction...don't interrupt him any more."  The man who was interrupting backed away.  Again, I felt satisfied that I had confronted the culture just a teensy bit and been able to take care of a need.  I can understand that there is interrupting here and line cutting all the time; but sometimes I have just had enough of it.  That was one time.  I tolerate line cutting all the time.  I also have learned how to graciously assert myself since it's considered the culturally appropriate thing to do.

-"Thank you" is not needed.  But I do it all the time.  Every time I leave a taxi, I say it.  Every single purchase, I say "Byerkthlaa" ('thank you') and smile.  I get a smile back almost every time.  As I watch the Mongolians, it is very normal to make a purchase, hand over the money, and walk away.  No thank you's needed.  That is one thing that I think speaks to the Mongolians.  I want them to know I appreciate their help.  I have some "regular" vendors now at the market.  They greet me when I walk down their row.  We wave and exchange greetings, "Sain Bain Ooo (Hi! How are you!)."  "Byertay (Goodbye)."  And, of course, my "thank you's."  One day I was fumbling with all my bags (remember, I'm shopping with NO shopping cart, and can only buy what I/we can carry home on any one trip); one of my favorite fruit ladies, came around her vending area and held some bags and helped stuff items into my backpack.  What a sweety.  So, some culture days are satisfying. 

But, it's all unique.  It strains my brain many times.  I often get a knot in my stomach when things go against my expectations.  It is something I must give up.  It is a sacrifice of love for my Mongolian friends whom I'm here for.  All of this forces me to remember that I have been bought with a price and I am not my own. 

I share this about culture, because my next post will be about a relaxing cultural day.  Boy, did we need it!  Countryside...here we come!  My goal is to post it within three days...so check back for some great pictures and a narrative of our day in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the city!

A Mild Frazzle Fixed

I had a little "frazzle" of my nerves this afternoon. 

Our phones were both very low on "negch" (the Mongolian word for prepaid minutes), so I went over to the market to not only purchase some negch, but also buy some butter and kumquats.  Butter to make cookies...kumquats to just eat!



Butter is not purchased in neat little quarter pound sticks at the market.  No. There's a large hunk of butter sitting out in the wide open space, and one must tell the lady behind the counter what quantity one wants to purchase.  Sometimes I get "hagus kilo" (a half kilo) and sometimes "nick kilo" (one kilo)...today it was a full kilo because I'm making cookies for a Good Friday evening later this week.

 So, I'm writing this post to tell you my nerve-wracking experience.  When I'm walking to an errand, I often picture the words I will be using in my head...sort of practice what I'll need and think about the pronunciation.  That's so much more work than when I go on errands in the U.S., using English.  Do I practice how I'll ask for "two ice cream cones"?  No!  I just do it.  Well, not here!

Anyway, I was reviewing the number of thousands of tugricks which I was about to ask for.  And, I needed it for BOTH phones, so making sure I made that clear.  After saying what I wanted the lady punched in numbers and seemingly both phones were loaded.  I stepped down the hall and checked my phone.  Perfect!  I now had a chunk of change loaded on my phone to text away!  Now, I checked Kevin's phone.  After requesting to see how many tugricks he had, I received a message on the screen in Mongolian.  And, unfortunately, in words I didn't recognize.  What could this mean?  I requested the balance three more times, and three more times received the same message.  I gathered up the courage to go back to the woman at the Mobicom counter.  I held up my phone and she smiled and looked relieved.  She started explaining some long story, all in Mongolian.  I could discern she was telling me that she needed to try again because the amount didn't load like she thought it had.  She talked on and on and then looked at me like I was supposed to respond.  I looked at her apologetically and said in Mongolian, "I'm sorry, I only understand a small amount of Mongolian language."  She smiled and laughed, and responded, "I only understand a small amount of English language" (in Mongolian); I replied, "We are the same" in Mongolian.  She smiled and repeated the phrase, agreeing.  It is always such a relief when someone is understanding and kind when there's a language barrier.  Whew! 

I walked away with the designated amount of money loaded onto Kevin's phone, too, and gratefulness for the kindness of this woman.

Now, I'm going to go make cookies to throw in the freezer for Friday night!

Random Thoughts on Cold and Language

You know it's cold when....

you and your husband are walking to a friend's house and it's -24 degrees F and you say, "What a beautiful evening," and then you realize the temperature and how positive 24 degrees even feels cold...but you'd take that right now! (This happened a couple hours ago!)

the sun shines, but we don't see any sign of melting on sidewalks or streets.
your eyelashes freeze together (top and bottom) with frozen tears after a 10 minute walk. (Really fun when mixed with mascara and you get chunks of black ice!)

you are riding a city bus and you can't see out the windows because they're totally frosted over. Fortunately, we've memorized the bus stops, so we pay attention to how many stops and then we know when to get off.

you take your hand out of your mitten to answer your cell phone and your fingers hurt within 5 seconds.

Today, I was standing at a bus stop for 15 minutes waiting for the correct bus while I was thinking about these things. Brrrrrr!

And, now a random celebration: I was riding the bus and it stopped to get gas about 1/4 mile from my destination bus stop, so I walked to the front and asked the bus driver "Be Boey", meaning "I want to get off".  He let me off.  Ahhh! Language works! I was so happy to have learned that phrase last week!  I didn't want to wait for the gas...it could take 2 min or 10 min...and I wanted to get home.  So, I walked 1/3 to 1/2 mile home, and never saw the bus pass me.  Anyway, I just thought I'd share my happiness over learning a little more language!

A Bus Adventure

I was standing at the bus stop alone last week with about 50 people around me. There was not a single other caucasian. As I stood there, I thought how this would have scared me to go alone 5 months ago. Things have become a bit more familiar these last months.  Bus 21 came, and after riding it for about 20 minutes, I saw the name of the store where I was supposed to meet my friend, Gunjee.  The strange thing was that I didn't think that this was the right location.  I thought the store was bigger and brighter.  This one looked rather run down.  This was in an area of town I'm not super familiar with, so I jumped up from my seat and quickly got off the bus.  The bus pulled away, and I crossed the street to the store.  The more I looked around and walked up the street, the more I knew that I had definitely gotten off the bus at the wrong place.  (Since then, I have learned there are two stores on that side of town with the same name).  Now I had a dilemma.  I needed to get back on a bus...either the same number if another "21" came, or one that I thought might take me where I needed to go. I missed Bus 21 (the one I knew), since I was on the other side of the street during heavy traffic.  Once I got across, another bus came. I asked the conductor "Urgoo Kino?" (name of area where I needed to meet Gunjee)...and the conductor shook her head yes.

I wasn't nervous, but just mad at myself for making Gunjee wait (not a problem in this culture, but I still "live" in my culture sometimes!). I was wishing I knew more Mongolian so I could communicate more thoroughly with someone around me. I'm sure I sounded so dorky in Mongolian, making incomplete sentences! And forgetting to put the "question word" at the end of the sentence...instead, making a question sound with my voice and looking questioningly at the person. They probably think, "Poor American Woman!" Oh, well, I will take all the sympathy I can get!

There is a happy ending!  I DID find Gunjee at the bus stop which was about five minutes past the first stop where I had gotten off.  We had a great time with the hair cut experience and eating some pie at a nice bakery afterwards.  We were able to have a valuable conversation that day.  I am thankful for my friend, Gunjee, and the time I spend with her!

Happy Haircut!

Many of you know that I have had a great fear of finding someone to cut my hair here in Mongolia.  Many of  the "ooschin" shops look delapidated and questionable.  I have been so reluctant to get my hair cut, that I went from February 13 (in Rochester) until July 25 (when visiting Rochester again!).  I decided that I couldn't go from July 25, 2010, until May 2011, so I stepped out in bravery.

I have become friends with Gunjee and I've liked her short haircut.  So, last week we made plans to visit her ooschin (hairdresser).  She was happy to do so, and we made plans for today.  As I took the bus across town to meet her, I looked out the window and noticed one salon named "Destroy".  I had to chuckle to myself, wondering if they were trying to say that when you leave their place, you'll destroy everyone with your good looks....or what?! 

So, here's the result:

And, all for a whopping $3.75 USD (5000 Tugriks).

Excuses, Excuses!

Ahh…blog, sweet blog, how I have missed Thee, let me count the ways. My heart has had no written pathway to speak out. But, now my keyboard is loosed once again!

“Why the silence for so long,” you may ask. I tell you, “I have a ton of reasons.” And now, my reasons are gone and I can again compose posts and again post posts and again post photos. Again, my heart can run free on a computer screen.

So, since time lacks for me to post on all past events, I will only declare shortly herein what has kept me from blogging and blabbing away for so many weeks. Here is my declaration:

July 20-22—I did extra study for our BIG Mongolian language test, and then the test itself. I passed, but that doesn’t in any way mean I am fluent in this new language. I have decided I will never be fluent. But, I want to weekly learn new words and how to put them together properly.

July 23—A 24-hour travel to the U.S. Loved the time change deal: left Ulaanbaatar July 23 mid morning, travelled 24 hours, but still ended up in Minneapolis at 8:30 p.m. . . .on July 23!

July 24-August 6—A grand time of swiping the Discover Card ensued (don’t worry—it’s paid off!), as Danielle, Kevin, Johnny, I, and others in our family went hunting for many of the items we needed for our daughter’s wedding and reception. It was a lot to accomplish in a short time (maybe we have the makings for a new reality TV show—“The Amazing Race for the Bachelorette to get to The Wedding Story”; but everything was ready the evening of August 6, and we gained a son-in-law out of the deal!

August 7-17—We enjoyed time with both of our families and many friends.

August 18-19—Travel back to Mongolia took a few hours longer because of a longer layover in Beijing; we left at 9:30 am. August 18 and arrived in Ulaanbaatar at 11:30 p.m. August 19. Real travel time was around 28 hours.

August 20-September 2—No internet at our apartment, and looking for a new apartment (what an adventure). We saw a super-plush place as well as a hole in the wall that looked “mafia-like”. We ended up with a spacious apartment with a few upgrades from our last apartment. Our new apartment has a larger frig/freezer (still smaller than in the States) and a larger washing machine (now two double sheets can fit into the same load!).





We moved September 2, so this new apartment is still very new to us. We are also the first people to live in it (in a one-year old building, but this unit had never been rented yet). Not everything is new, though, as an old Russian oven (see in these kitchen pictures) was moved into the unit for us (many Mongolians don’t even own an oven). I spent over half an hour grating the baked-on oily stuff off the insides so it won’t smoke us out of the kitchen when it’s turned on (as happened the first time we used it!). I’m thankful I brought some Brillo pads from the U.S. with me!

Here's the living room on move-in day. It will soon look like "home", but I wanted you to see the new couch our landlady found for us, the light fixture, and cool French doors which can close off the living room from the rest of the apartment.





September 3-4—Now, we are settling into a new routine and exploring our new neighborhood. I had to walk back to our old neighborhood (35 minute walk away) yesterday, and it felt so “comfortable” since I knew where the bumps in the sidewalks exist, aware of the timing of the crossing lights and where the curbs and fences are which need to be avoided for walking. It will take a few months for this new neighborhood to feel as comfy as that old one was becoming. I realized I don’t know our jujor (the lady who picks up the trash from our hallways and keeps an eye on the people who go in and out of the building). It won't be long before we are smiling and waving to one another as at the old place, I hope! I don’t know what’s in all the stores underneath our apartment (by the way, we’re now on the 6th floor, but we have an elevator). At our old place, we were on the 2nd floor (no view because of the buildings all around us. At this new place...we have an awesome view. We can see the north hills (Ulaanbaatar is nestled between two rows of mountains/hills...some to the north and some to the south.


The photos (above and below) show the view out of our north window. I'm so excited that we'll be seeing sunrises and sunsets, as we have a very wide view as well as a distant view. See the hills off in the distance?

Here's the view below our apartment just as the morning is beginning. The streets get busier than this, but this gives an idea of what our few blocks around us look like. The white building (upper left in photo) is a grocery store close by. It is also the "All Mart" (real name!) which has household items and even some furniture in the upper level.






School begins soon...next weekend we give English teachers the test to see who can enter our program. These will be the new relationships we will enjoy for the coming year!

Shooooooooopping!

We went on a shopping trip today. Anyone who knows Kevin, knows that he only likes to shop if there's something to specifically "bag"...and it needs to happen quickly. He likes to "shop" (say with a staccato voice). He does NOT like to shoooooooooooooooop.

In less than a week we go to the U.S., and we still have a few things we need to purchase. So, we went to Narantuul Market today, because they have good buys on everything. One of our Mongolian language teachers said, "If it's at Narantuul, it will be the cheapest price in town." It's the Walmart of Ulaanbaatar. The difference is, Narantuul is an open-air market with tents and cubby holes all over a cemented slab and there are pick pocketers and hundreds of sellers and hundreds more buyers. One buys their individual items from each idividual seller. You can bargain a price, somewhat (more on that later). There are men roaming through the booths selling cokes in cups (like at a ball game), and dirty children with wide eyes looking up at you with a big question mark on their face (who's that white face?). There are drunks passed out on the outer edges of Narantuul. As we walk in or walk out, we do so quickly (ahhh, just the pace Kevin likes!) and we hold our bags and wallets close to our sides. We look confident. I don't feel totally confident.

Today was our fourth time to this market. Each time it has gotten easier. Today was our first time to go just us two! Before, we've gone with Mongolians or other Americans who are more seasoned than us. Today, we could ask prices in Mongolian, understand the answers, ask for larger sizes, smaller sizes, different colors, say yes, no and thank you. Kevin was interested in a Mongolian jacket. After his purchase, the lady said "Thank you" in Russian! We walked away laughing, realizing that she thought we were from Russia rather than America! We knew the Russian word since Kevin had spent a few weeks in Russia in 1998 for a teaching experience. The more we're here, the more we find out that Americans are few here; many of the caucasians are from Russia or Australia.

Then, just for fun, we looked at some "Western style" suit jackets. I took a picture of Kevin receiving "full service" from three or four different vendors who kind of swamped him with their wares. "This tom jacket"... ("tom" means large); "Yamar onkte vey?"... (what color?); "Horden toven myunk"...25,000 Tugricks (price)... and, to me, "Mush Goi?" asking "Very nice looking?!"... and of course I answered, "Team....sacken!" (Yes, handsome!)...and on and on. He had all of these people hovering around him offering him different jackets to try on. In the end, he didn't find one that fit right and we left with a fun memory. I'm sure the vendors were disappointed.



We went on to purchase a few more items. We were getting low on money, and we knew we needed to take the bus home. We had walked and it took about 40 minutes without our newly purchased load. Now, the bus only takes 600 Tugricks for the two of us...a mere 40-ish cents total, but we were truly getting low on money! The final purchase was to cost 32,000 Tugricks; we had 31,900 T, but needed 600 for the bus. I pulled out the 600 Tugricks we needed for the bus and asked the lady if we could purchase it for 31,200. She looked at us like we were cheapies...what was the small amount more, anyway? I fanned the 600 T in front of us and said, "Avtobus". Her face broke into friendly warmth. She understood. Sure, she'd take the little less. I must say this happens often...with living on cash! I'm always spending up to the last tugrick when needing to get many things. But there's certainly a lot of flexibility among the salespeople...not quite like Walmart where the price is THE PRICE!

We were home 2 1/2 hours later (this includes that 40 min. walk and the 15 min "avtobus" (city bus) ride. Kevin had weathered a shoooooooopping trip and I was able to "shop" (spoken in staccato, mind you).

The Pick Pocket that Didn't Happen

I wrote in an email recently that Kevin was almost pick-pocketed. Some people have wanted the details. This happened last Wednesday when we went to Narantuul Market, also known as the Black Market. The market is definitely a place where you want to keep your eyes out for pick pocketers and other shady happenings. This is an open air market that amazingly runs YEAR AROUND...even when it's 30 degrees below zero F. How do these people stand the cold?!

Part of the market is also inside, but this day we were shopping for some clothing from the outdoor vendors (and, it was a beautiful day!). Susan and I found some treasures we needed to get, so we were happy with our shopping trip. We had arrived at the market in a group of five of us, but Kevin and I left separately. As we walked through some of the back roads to the bus stop, a somewhat drunk man reached slowly in front of Kevin, diving right toward his front jeans pocket. Kevin grabbed his hand and lifted it away from his body, and the man violently pulled on Kevin and then bumped into me. That was the end of the event, and I wasn't even too shook up, just amazed that someone would be so obvious!

This is just another part of Mongolian culture which is something for us to be aware of and to get used to (and to prevent!). He is our refuge in all situations!

A Panorama of Recent Pictures

As they say, "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words." So, here's some pictures with quick quips...no nitty gritty details....just enjoy with your eyes!


One of our students "lost" the game we were playing and had to eat a piece of cake without hands or utensils!



We were at someone else's home, and I just had to take a quick picture of this quaint view of their stove. Isn't it cute?!



Here's a prayer wheel at the local Gandan Buddhist Monastery. It is believed that if you walk around the wheel, spinning the wheel, while offering your prayer up, that you will have a good chance of it being answered. There are many prayer wheels all over the campus of the monastery.



Here's the view from the front porch of one of the monastery buildings. You can see over an area of the city. I thought it was a great view.



This lady is selling beads, idols, candles, and many other items to use in worship, right outside the Buddhist Monastery.

Psalm 115:4-7: "Their idols are silver and gold, the work of man's hands. They have mouths, but they cannot speak; they have eyes, but they cannot see; they have ears, but they cannot hear; they have noses, but they cannot smell; they have hands, but they cannot fel; they have feet, but they cannot walk; they cannot make a sound with their throat."

See more at www.gandan.mn

It's a Beautiful Day for a...Parade!

We had our windows wide open this morning because the weather is absolutely gorgeous! In the distance, we could hear trumpets and drums...sounded like...parade music! We looked down the street, and saw a parade. I ran outside with my camera to get this awesome picture. Don't you just love the exhortation to "Try Mongolia." I wanted to yell, "We are!" It was so fun standing there with Mongolians waving and smiling at us. We've never seen so many smiles here! Usually, on the streets, it is not within their cultural norms to smile and acknowledge strangers. But, evidently, it's okay to smile and wave if you're part of a parade. We stood on the edge of the street, smiling and waving back, and yelling, "Sain Bain Ooo!", a Mongolian greeting. A Mongolian woman in the parade came over to us and explained what the parade was all about. She told us that this is the first anniversary celebrating the fact that Mongolia adopted a UN sanction giving rights to disabled people. There were many people in the parade in wheelchairs. We thanked her for coming over to tell us about the parade (in English!).



A few minutes later, we met two like-minded young men from Holland who are touring the area. They were interested in what we were doing here, and they know our Father! What a fun little "blip" in our day!

A Dear Friend

Our family of three meets on the third floor of a business building to learn the Mongolian language three hours a day, five days a week, along with another co-teacher and our language teachers. Many weeks ago, one of Kevin's first assignments after learning some introductory phrases, was to go downstairs to the door guards and introduce himself and find out one of their names. "Chuck" was Kevin's acquaintance that day. Now, we say "Sain Bain Oo" (How are you?) to whoever is sitting at the guard desk when we enter in the mornings. We might say "Dara Oltsie" (see you later) as we leave...or some other good bye phrase.

Today, we had to go over to the office to meet others for an out of town learning experience (more on that in a later post). Chuck was there. We spoke some choppy Mongolian with him, and he even spoke slowly and tried to communicate with us with words we might know. What a dear friendship that is developing! Don't his eyes just sparkle with kindness?!

Europe in the Middle of Ulaanbaatar

Isn't this the most quaint little coffee shop and bakery that you've seen in a long time? Kevin and I discovered it early this week when we were walking home from a meeting. We stopped in just to see what it is like. At the front counter was a 70-ish aged woman with white skin and shiny white-grey hair. We found out she's the owner. She was German-born, but has lived in Asia for over 40 years, and Mongolia for the past 13 years. She runs this bakery which also serves soups and sandwiches in the back cafe area. This first picture is the view as you walk in the front door.



Here, a customer purchases her baked goods for the day.










Here's the back room cafe filled with picnic-style tables and pretty flowers and lighting. I hope to use this spot as a good place to meet women to talk about important things in life!

As I said before, we met the owner, Brigitte, and we had a fun conversation with her. Before we had left, she had invited me to the IWAM (International Women's Association-Mongolia)which was meeting the next day. So, I went on Tuesday this week and enjoyed meeting many women from several different countries: Australia, New Zealand, Belgium, and the U.S. are the ones I can remember. This philanthropic club meets once a month and has different "projects". (This month's project was focusing on Habitat for Humanity--Mongolia!) IWAM is sort of a "Rotary" club for women. I hope to go back again to become more familiar with some of these women. Thank you Brigitte, for a beautiful coffee shop tucked away in the middle of Ulaanbaatar; and thank you Brigitte for the nice afternoon on Tuesday!

Little House on the...Prairie?

We walk through the Ger District (the area of UB where people live in gers) on Sunday mornings. Yesterday, as we walked past this little home beside some gers, I said, "Look Kevin, it reminds me of an American pioneer's home a century ago in America."

We still haven't been inside a ger yet...or one of these "pioneer" homes...but we'll let you know when we do. I'm sure the inside will be very impressive. The people have an artistic flair. Even our apartment, even though drab and sad looking on the outside of the building, inside, our landlord has decorated with oriental rugs and retro lighting with unusual light fixtures in every one of our rooms. Maybe I'll post pictures of our light fixtures someday soon!

A Sunday Stroll

So, this Sunday, we were taking a walk. Here's a back road in UB. As you can see, this road is needing the city road department to visit! Needless to say, we had to clean our shoes after we got home! We saw several deep ruts and high "blobs" of dirt. We decided these were makeshift "speed bumps".






Here is a photo of some gers being set up in Suhkbaataar Square (government center buildings are there, along with a monument of Chinggis Kahn—or as Americans know him, Gengis Kahn-- and a soldier. I’ll post photos of these statues some day soon). Anyway, we never really found out what kind of celebration or reason that brought people to come to the square to set up their gers, but it was certainly interesting. This is about 5 blocks from our apartment.

Dog...A Man's Best Friend?

Okay, I can just see the question mark on your face as you see the picture for today's post! I am not a dog lover. Why would I take a picture of a dog, let alone, post it on my blog? Okay, since you asked, I'll tell you why!

This dog is part of our experience here in Mongolia. We met him the first day we were here. He hangs out two blocks away in front of Matt and Jessica's apartment building (they are teammates of ours, working for the same organization as we are). That's not so unusual. However, the unusual part is when this dog trots up to us like we're old, long-lost friends. He has never jumped up on us, he almost smiles at us, and he trots beside us in a very friendly manner. I've never felt threatened by him or afraid of him.

The strange part is that as he trots along beside us, he growls and lurches at almost every Mongolian male we pass. It's terribly embarrassing! He's trotted along beside us at least four times now, and every time he does this. People think he's our dog and they give us dirty looks. And, since we don't know how to say, "He's not our dog," in Mongolian, we just look at them with a concerned face and shrug our shoulders to try to convey that we don't know this dog! One man yelled at us and mimed something that looked like he had just said, "Muzzle your dog!" The dog had just gone up to him, barred his teeth, and growled and barked. Oh, I'm so sorry! I want to just sink into the ground.

I would love to know the history behind this behavior. I think he was terribly abused by a Mongolian man. But how strange that he can tell the difference between a Caucasian man and a Mongolian man. I've seen him be nice to Kevin, Micah, Matt, and Josh, all white men. He has never been aggressive to any of them or to any of us white women. Maybe I could become a dog-lover some day after all!

Sam's Club, Where are You?

So, I've learned a bit about grocery shopping as of yesterday. Have you ever bought more than you could get home? That just doesn't happen in Rochester, MN, with a mini van!

I walked to the State Department Store. This is the big store (four or five stories) which is less than half a mile from our apartment. It was started in the days of the Soviets and was quite the place (still is a great place to shop). There's neon lights on the outside and it looks like a building you might find in Las Vegas. Inside, there's escalators to each floor and there's a grocery store within the store. So, the grocery store is on the main floor after all the make up counters (there's even an Avon counter!), then the floors above resemble everything from Younkers/Dillards/Macys to a section that's sort of like the Mongolian Walmart where you can get containers and toilet bowl brushes. There's not a store like this in the U.S. Anyway, you can come with quite a shopping list, as you might imagine. So, yesterday, I went by myself (first big mistake!) to shoooooooop! You know, the kind of shopping where you're hoping to not go again for awhile? But, remember, I WALKED there!

First off, they only have tiny carts. That's for a reason. It's to remind you that you've probably got to stick with a quantity within that cart. My cart was full. After all, they give quantity discounts (ironic!). For example, I bought three packages of oatmeal to save 900T. 900T will buy 3 1/2 eggs (but, yes, you must buy full eggs!). After checking out my groceries and paying 60,000T (doesn't that sound like A LOT?! Don't worry...it's only a bit over $40 US), I was bagging my groceries and stuffing some of the items in my side satchel I always carry. I was beginning to realize that I was not going to be able to carry all of my items home...it was physically impossible. Fortunately, the grocery store has a free locker system where other purchases, bags, and satchels must be stored before shopping. I had already retrieved my satchel to fill it, but decided I'd have to leave one large bag back in a locker and send one of my men for it! I smiled at the locker lady and pointed to a locker and asked to put the bag in there. I wonder what she thought? "Oh, how cute...the American was buying in bulk today and can't lug it all home. She'll learn." She was sweet and nice, but I felt a bit silly.

By the time I got home, my arm muscles were screaming. And I wondered how I'd get exercise in this new environment?!

I wonder if this is how the Momma Israelites felt when they were gathering manna? I was thinking about this whole life illustration, and how our Father wants us to come to Him every day...He doesn't want us to stock up. We just can't carry that much encouragement with us before it gets wormy. Now, I'm not saying that I still won't stock up on groceries and toilet paper. I'm just saying that I NEED to be with Him on a daily basis to keep my encouragement up...to keep my focus right...to nestle into His arms.

Oh, and my dear, sweet husband went to go get the last bag of groceries. It was a bit further than helping unload the van in the garage, but it was similar, right?!