Mongol, The Movie

I had a hot date tonight. Strolling through downtown Ann Arbor, arm and arm, my Grandma and I went to the movies.

On Wednesday, I saw that a movie called Mongol about the rise of Ghengis (actually we translate that wrong, it's Chinggis!) Khan was playing at the Michigan Theater in A^2. I know I had to see it, to see if what I experienced would translate into Hollywood.

On the whole, Grandma and I enjoyed the movie, but Hollywood (or should I say the German/Russian/Mongolian film producers) did dramatize the plot a bit for 1206 C.E. Of course, the scenery was fantastic-- stunning Mongolia as always. The story also did a good job of portraying the tough, unforgiving climate and culture, too.

I just hope the people in front of me didn't hear my gasps of excitement every time I heard a Mongolian word I recognized! Oochlaarai ('excuse me')!

This a Blog about Beijing

I'm really back in the swing of things now. Yessir, I went back to work today. Luckily, my friend Eoghan has been kind enough to let me stay at his apartment in Ann Arbor so I don't have to drive all the way home (1 hour 10 minutes, approx.). I'm in one of UofM's libraries getting out this blog.

I guess if I had to describe Beijing in one word it would be prolific. Everything there comes in olympic quantities. Want a modern highway? Beijing just built FIVE high-speed rings around the city. Want a modern subway? Beijing just built SIX new lines-- the cleanist I've ever seen. Want bike lanes? Beijing has one on every street just teeming with bikers. Want to meet some people? Beijing has 15 MILLION.

Of couse, the big deal in Beijing right now is the 2008 Summer Olympics. With signs plastered everywhere and a security check at every subway station, visitors cannot forget that they're visiting an olympic host city.

Even better are the throngs of young Chinese volunteering. Every young person I met seemed dissapointed that I wasn't staying for the Olympics. But they were sure to tell me how they had come all the way to Beijing from Hunan province to volunteer.

After seeing all the hype the Chinese government puts out for these games, I can no longer blame ordinary Chinese for being defensive about their country during the contentious torch relay through the West. This summer is China's time to shine. After so many years as a "second-tier" country, the people get to show off their hard work. Although this certainly doesn't absolve the government for its actions in Tibet or Darfur, Chinese citizens deserve this moment under the global spotlight.

As an aside, I'm having trouble posting photos into old posts, so I hope to have some up by the end of the weekend now. Thanks for waiting. In the meantime, check out my Mongolia Picasa album!

Great Wall

Stretching on for miles and miles, the Great Wall of China is truly a sight to behold. The gargantuan structure-- both when crumbling and standing strong-- really stretches the limits of comprehension. On top of all that, the scenery is absolutely gorgeous. I'd never thought of China as a naturally beautiful country before, but now I want to hike along the wall for days and days.

Being built on top of mountains makes the wall a very steep and sometimes dangerous climb. We viewed the wall at Huairou, a decidedly less touristy place than the disneyland-esque Badaling. Aside from the welcome silence, Huairou offered the chance to see some of the wall's most precipitous drops, while climbing over them! Brian and I both agreed, with more time, we'd have come back and continued on our trek.

The countryside is also much poorer than the city, and that leads to what we thought were scam artists along the wall. Twice, an older person demanded 2 RMB a piece in order to pass by. As 2RMB is roughly equivalent to 35 cents, we didn't really complain. However, when an older man with barking dogs tried to make us pay 20RMB per person to pass through his property on the way back from the wall, we ended up forging our own trail through the woods. Sneaking quietly and stealthily, I felt like an international spy trying to reach his target.

Nixon had it right (for once) when he said,

This is a Great Wall and only a great people with a great past could have a great wall and such a great people with such a great wall will surely have a great future.

+ and - of Leaving the Countryside*

Written July 12, 2008

Tomorrow is a day of travel: car from Hatgal to Moron; Plane from Moron to UB!

What I'm Happy About:

• A continuous shower, lasting longer than one minute
• Roads that don't hurt to drive upon
• Non-Mongolian Food
• Music
• A mattress
• The internet
• Real toilets that can handle toilet paper
• Real shelter from temperature changes

Things I Will Miss:

• Clean air
• Peeing wherever I want
• Beautiful views
• Eating locally produced food
• Quiet
• Stars at night
  

In a Large Larch Tree!*

Written July 11, 2008

On the 12th day of Naadam, my true love gave to me...

12 grasshoppers hopping,
11 thousand mosquitoes biting,
10 Mongolian students,
9 soaking wet boots,
8 different tree cores,
7 grazing horses,
6 professors pooping,
5 GOLDEN GERS!
4 Ass-slaps,
3 types of Carex,
2 flying cranes,
and a Yak!

Born in the USA...

I made it back home safely Monday night, landing at Detroit Metro around 11:45pm. Another long day of travel made me tired, so I didn't really blog yesterday (Tuesday). I unpacked, went to the bank, you know, that boring stuff you have to do after vacation. But, I took work off today (Wednesday) so I could try and finish my paper blogs from Mongolia, blog about Beijing, and, most important, add photos and links to previous blogs!

Thanks to everyone who has been reading. Once I put the pictures and links up, shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment if you think I can improve something. I hope to really improve the blog before Munich!

The Ballers in Beijing

Brian, Annie, Jen, and I all reached Beijing safely. So far, our impressions are very positive. The city is ultra-modern, and everything is very spick and span in preparation for the Olympic games. I'll do the most of my blogging on Beijing once I get home. There just aren't enough hours in the day to justify sitting at the computer while the Great Wall, Forbidden City, grand temples, etc. await!

In any case, the remaining 4 days in Beijing will be plenty. I'm ready to come home after so long away. Just waiting until the 21!

Erhem hundet naadamchidaa...*

Written July 11, 2008

Naadam, the festival of three manly sports, has finally arrived! Celebrating the warm(er) weather and Mongolia's three favorite pastimes, Naadam is cause for great jubilation around the country. Although UB supposedly has a great opening ceremony, every Mongolian we talk to says we are lucky to be spending Naadam in the provincial town of Hatgal.

The festival is three days long, but the first two contain most of the excitement apparently. We hitched a ride from a passing van (hitchhiking is neither dangerous nor unusual here), cramming in 18 people and heading to the fairground. Once we got there, my stomach immediately began to turn.

You see, when we arrived in Mongolia, our friend Anarmaa suggested that Brian and I wrestle in Naadam. We had naively accepted. Throughout the trip, the wrestling match began to loom larger and larger in our future. First, we wrestled a Mongolian student at the camp-- both of us were down in about 5 seconds. Next, Anarmaa explained to an old, Mongolian woman that we planned to wrestle; the woman burst into the heartiest belly laugh of the trip. Now, I was seeing the wrestlers in the flesh, and they were big.

Naadam is a festival for all ages, though, so we watched the "pro" wrestlers start out versus five to eight year old wrestlers. The pros would basically pick them up and then set them down on their backs, and as long as anything but the wrestler's palms or feet touches the ground, he is out.

Eventually, we figured out that we would wrestle at the end of the first round. I breathed a sigh of relief. The first round is swollen with wrestlers as novices and experts alike compete in Mongolia's best loved sport. Basically, I could eat before I had to wrestle.

When the time for wrestling came, I was still nervous, but now for a different reason. Before anyone wrestles, they must complete an extensive, ritual dance. Brian and I had done our best to watch and learn. Slap the front and back of the thighs like a camel, then fly like an eagle around the referee. Allow him to remove the hat. Stand before the horse hair altar and flap like an eagle again...

After a disastrous eagle dance on my part, it was finally time to wrestle. My opponent was slightly bigger than me (no weight classes) and a hell of a lot stronger. I lunged at his legs, but he stopped me by grabbing my shoulders. I grabbed his to stabilize myself. With our arms interlocked, we pushed back and forth for at least a minute. I heard Brian fall. I tried for my opponents legs again to no avail. This guy was immovable! Then he gave one good twist with his arms that sent me falling. The match was over.

Needless to say, I was full of adrenaline for the rest of the day. The excitement of the match quickly overflowed into watching the horse race finish. I couldn't believe the speed at which the five year old riders pushed their horses (bareback!) across the finish line after 30km! The distance the archers shot their arrows astounded.

On the second day, the real wrestling started, with people like me well out of the way. The guys got bigger, the eagle dances got better, and the crowd got boisterous. Still, if I had only had a shot at the winner...

[Note: the title of this post translates to "Those who are enjoying Naadam..." The announcer said it before every news bulletin.]

Margod the Mongolian*

Written July 10, 2008

As our time in the field wore on, I began to realize that I was missing out on a golden opportunity. 10 Mongolian college students inhabited the camp, too, yet I was just playing cards with the Americans every night. Granted, there is a language barrier. Volleyball games, frisbee, and soccer go easily enough, but any extended conversation can be difficult. I resigned myself to more Euchre and Scrabble.

Until I met Margod, that is. The camp cook brough along two of her nephews to help her. Hashaa is 20, and I quickly learned that his English was no better than any of the Mongolian students. Margod is 16, and I hardly ever even heard him speak around meal times. I (wrongly) assumed that his English was non-existent.

One (cold) day, Margod (or Maggie for short) entered our ger at night and offered to help start a fire, using almost flawless English. An offer like this is not unusual, as all the Mongolians realize that the Americans are generally inept at starting fires in the ger stoves. But Maggie began to talk basketball. When we told him we were from Philly, he immediately mentioned that Allen Iverson was no longer with the 76ers. When I mentioned that I was from Detroit, he rattled off the names Rasheed, Rip, and Tayshaun. When Brian mentioned he was from Wisconsin, Maggie laughed at the dismal Bucks.

Thus started our nightly chats. Since he had to help with meals, he was really only free during sundown. We talked about the internet, basketball, soccer, basketball, poker, basketball, politics, and basketball. His English isn't perfect but with my Mongolian phrase book (thanks Aunt Carolyn!) we were usually able to converse and play cards.

Now that I'm leaving camp, saying "bayertai" (loosely translated to 'good-bye forever') to all my Mongolian friends is strange. But thanks to the internet, I plan to stay in contact with at least one of them. Someone who might know what the Pistons should do with Rasheed...

Tea Time in Mongolia*

Written July 9, 2008

A few days ago, we were blessed with good weather, yet simultaneously faced with a brief pause in the research. The whole group took the chance to drive up the bumpy road (called the worst in Mongolia!) to see the four other valleys that line the lake besides our own (Dalbay).

The scenery was stunning. After the recent rainfall, rivers were gushing, fish were spawning, and flowers were blooming from mountaintop to sand dune. But despite the majestic views of the lake and mountains, the highlight of the trip involved a single elderly woman.

Although I never learned her name, this native Mongolian knew our traveling companion, Dr. Clyde Goulden (ANSP), from his years of work in the region. When he stopped to say hello, she invited us inside.

Outside, some members of our party chose to play with the herd of goats, but I jumped at the chance to enter her circular ger.

Careful not to step on the threshold, we stepped inside and moved in a clockwise pattern, sitting on some tired-looking beds across from the blazing wood stove (it must have been about 80F outside!). As she began to warm some milk, she told us (through our translator/guide/grad-student, Anarmaa) that she has lived with her son-in-law in this valley for the past 10 years. Before her husband died, they lived in the neighboring valley with their herds of goats and yaks.

Although the wooden frames of this ger were not a selaborately painted as our rental gers, a vibrantly colored cloth (think: wallpaper) hung from the ceiling. Also hanging from the ceiling were racks of lamb and other chunks of meat, slowly drying (and attracting flies) in the heat.

When the milk finished heating, she added tea and salt and poured it into cups (think: small bowls) for each of us. As we drank the traditional (and ubiquitous) milk-tea, she cut up some freshly made bread and filled a bowl with yak butter, surely the best butter I've ever tasted. In addition to the bread, she also served aaruul, which is essentially dried cheese curd. Impossible to chew, the aaruul had to melt in your mouth before you could taste the (stale) milky goodness. Once we finished our snack, we said "bayerlaa" (thank you) and began to leave. But our hostess wasn't done. She handed over two fresh jars of yogurt and butter, and then proceeded to take her bread and aaruul our to the five or six Americans who hadn't entered the crowded ger.

As we left, we all just couldn't believe the amazing hospitality. This woman did not know us, would never see us again, and got nothing from us (apparently, it would've been rude to pay her). She was simply friendly and kind. What a trip...

Mosquitos Should Not Exist. Period.*

Written July 9, 2008

Any biome with permafrost has a unique characteristic. During the summer, the top layer of permafrost melts, creating large swaths of swampy marsh-land in low lying plains. Unfortunately, this has the effect of not only making running through fields very difficult, but also providing the perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. In short, there's a lot of them here.

Fortunately, a strong breeze usually blows across the valley, keeping the annoying little insects at bay. But on a warm, wind-less day, just a five minute walk will make each person the leader of their own venerable parade of mosquitoes and flies. Waah...

Unrest in UB*

Written July 7, 2008

When I arrived in UB three weeks ago (Wow, has it been that long?), even an outsider, with no knowledge of Mongolian could tell that an election was afoot. Political posters blanketed the city thicker than the dust from a dust storm.

Quite a storm was brewing. Out of power for the last 8 years, a coalition of democratic parties was trying to dismantle the ruling Communist party. The results were expected to be close. Bustling UB leans heavily towards the Democrats, while the other half of the populace in the countryside votes MPRP.

Since the election itself occurred while we were at the field site, news of the communist victory reached us slowly. Every Mongolian we were with seemed disappointed, but conversations quickly migrated to different topics. A few days later, however, the election was a hot topic around the camp. Through an e-mail sent by one of the American's father, we heard of the riots sweeping UB, the tanks rolling through the streets, and the 700+ arrested. From our quiet valley, we never would have guessed.

Much information is still unclear to me, but many of our Mongolian friends felt that the election was unfair. Our smattering of sources tell us that the MPRP has regained control. Since Nadaam (the national mid-summer festival) is between now and our return to UB, I feel fairly confident that we will be safe for our 2.5 days there.

With 2008 as an election year for the US, as well, this whole experience makes me feel lucky to live in a country where elections are (generally) fair. I pray the beautiful country of Mongolia will work out a political arangement to keep peace and progress.

[Appended July 14, 2008: Now that I'm back in UB, everything is safe and secure. The only visible remnants are a burned out building near the parliament and a few riot fences up around government buildings. Otherwise the city looks cleaner and greener (probably due to all the rain) than before.]

I Like Food*

Written July 6, 2008

I've gained a reputation in this camp as the human garbage disposal, eating what others can't finish or don't want. And it's not just the need for energy after IDing plants for a whole morning: the food is really good.

Noggi, our resident chef, has been praised by veteran and new-comer alike as someone who can do a lot with a few resources. Whether it's stew or spaghetti, she adds flavor and Mongolian flair to every dish.

Before coming, I was a bit worried about the meat-maniac Mongolians I had heard of. Many of you know I was happily vegetarian before applying for this trip. But so far I've been greatly pleased-- meat is never really the centerpiece of any meal. Dumplings may be stuffed with mutton, stew may have beef broth, or goat may mis with veggies for stir fry. But you won't find a NY Steak style meal here.

Until the Mongolians celebrate, that is. The Mongolians, ironically, pulled out all the stops on Friday to help in celebrating the 4th of July. The herder down the valley sold a wonderful sheep to us, which was promptly slaughtered 30 minutes later. Gutted and cleaned, the meat went into a huge milk can filled with hot stones. An hour later, and still a bit chewy, the sheep reemerged ready to eat along side similarly steamed potatoes and carrots. Horhag (sp?), as the meal is called, washed itself down with beer and sangria. Oh to spend the 4th in Mongolia!

Despite my new found penchant for Mongol cuisine, I was glad the cook took a break today (Sunday). The girls served up burritos for lunch and fish and chips with (wild) rhubarb cobbler for dinner. As refreshing a change as it was, the ice-tea alongside the meals struck em the most. It was cold. Mongolians like everything hot to drink (tea, milk-tea, more tea, etc.). I'm looking forward to lemonade next time a hot day rolls around state-side!

A Word About the Weather*

Written July 2, 2008

For all the Michiganders who complain about fast changing weather, they have nothing on the Mongolians. We woke up this morning to beautiful weather and winds from the south. The sun kept us warm and the wind kept the flies away. Yet, by the time we set off on a 4km hike, rain was falling, blown in from the west. We ate dinner and then encountered cold winds from the north, leading to a beautiful, yet freezing, night. The sun is strong, so when it's gone we really notice it.

Lessons from the Lake*

Written on June 27, 2008

With almost a week of experience in the Mongolian hinterland, I've made a few observations. I'll be so kind as to share the news with you.

1. Don't get appendicitis: The lead Mongolian professor started feeling stomach pains that slowly migrated to his right side. After I confirmed that these were the exact symptoms I experienced before I had my appendix removed, everyone started to freak out. A helicopter rescue was $25,000 (but the nearest hospital was 3 hours away by boat). Eventually, a baot and a doctor made their way here and took the sick professor away. He's doing fine and will be back at camp on Sunday.
2. A simple meadow may look like it only has two species of flower and grass, but it actually has far too many: For the past few days I've been doing vegetation censuses of the field near our camp. This requires not only leaning over a small lot of land for hours, but also learning to ID every plant. If you ever need to know the grasses of Northern Mongolia, I'm your man!
3. When taking students on a trip, give them low expectations: Then they'll never stop raving about the trip. Before I came, I expected nothing more than a ger and a hunk of meat every night. But the food has been the highlight of this trip. Anyone can take a WARM (albeit army-style) shower. We get plenty of time for hikes, runs, reading, and rummy. It's still rustic (and wet when it rains) but this place could easily turn into a resort.
4. Mongolians aren't so much into pets: During our first full day at camp, a tiny, baby kitten wandered into our work ger. Although I'm still not sure why she was here, she was the cutest distraction. But the Mongolians (who are also wary of dogs), weren't too keen. She survived being thrown out of gers- and even punted across the camp- until she was taken back to her mother.
5. Mongolian is a hard language: And English is tough on Mongolians. The sounds are just so different, that I can't get my mouth around them.
   

In any case, "baayertai" for now!

Hello, Fieldsite!*

Written on June 23, 2008

When I read my horoscope in the UB Post on Friday, it said that I would attract people Monday through Wednesday. It's my first day of attraction, but all I know is that I'm deeply attracted to this camp site.

Yesterday, we flew from UB to Morun and took a two hour drive to Hatgal, the town on the southern tip of Lake Hovsgol. On the way there, we stopped to see the deerstones. Built around the bronze age, these carved stones lined up exactly North to South. Sacred burial mounds surround there. Unfortunately, these aging stones are only protected by an outline of wooden poles. Dr. Clyde Goulden (a researcher from the Academy of Natural Sciences Philadelphia) tried to nominate them as a UNESCO World Heritage site, but the Mongolian government withdrew the application. Either it didn't want to or didn't have the funds to protect the area. Sad...

As soon as we arrived in Hatgal, we took the bare essentials from our baggage and hopped on a small boat. The three hour ride to the camp site was more welcome than the alternative-- another van ride, except this one would last for 9 hours.

The valley we are staying in has a small river (stream?) that empties out at a small bay. We got off the boat near the river's mouth and took an old Russian jeep to the campsite about 3km away. We had scarcely set out bags down in a ger and began to take in the breathtaking sunset when the camp cook ushered us into the kitchen ger for an astounding meal of rice, beef, and a carrot/raisin salad-- a pleasant surprise after the long trip.

As the travel worn group of professors and students began to settle down, we realized that one ger could not hold us all. Our second ger was not yet ready, so I volunteered to sleep with the Mongolians in their ger. I nervously introduced myself to the 10 Mongolian students as well as the two researchers from the Asia Foundation also in the ger.

The Mongolians could not have been more hospitable. In broken, halted English, they encouraged me to sit near the warm stove and included me in the group's Mongolian/English lesson.

As the night wound down, I moved from this communal ger to the boys' ger to sleep. Outside, I saw the part of the trip I anticipated the most. I looked up and saw the stars.

The Start of Paper Blogging

I'm back! Yes, I survived a month in the fields. Yes, I survived the election/riots in UB. Yes, I survived the food at the camp. Yes, I survived the 10,000 mosquitoes. All in all, I'm in one piece and ready to blog again.

While I was without "the internets," I kept blogging in my notebook. In the next half hour or so, I'm going to try and transfer as much of that as I can to this blog. I won't change the words (too much), and I'll let you know the date it was really written on. I'll mark all "paper blogs" with an asterisk after their title.

Enjoy and I can't wait to see you all again soon!