A set of definitions:

Yak: (n.)

a large, furry creature which is in and of itself quite harmless though it may look a bit formidable upon first inspection.

to hunt: (v.)

1.

to chase or search for (game or other wild animals) for the purpose of catching or killing.

2.

to pursue with force, hostility, etc., in order to capture

3.

to search for; seek; endeavor to obtain or find

The epic two year quest to hunt a number of yaks has at last come to an end. To pretend that all yak hunting is over would be foolish indeed. Rather, there are some rather old, problematic yaks which have been done away with and replaced with new, more self-chosen ones.

A thank you to all who supported the hunting: suggesting hunting methods, sending hunting supplies, offering new perspectives on the definitions of the words at hand.

***Blatantly stolen from Camus' essay "Summer in Algiers"***

"The loves we share with a city are often secret loves."

"Bayankhongor opens to the sky like a mouth or a wound."

"In Bayankhongor one loves the commonplaces..."

"In Bayankhongor whoever is young and alive finds sanctuary and occasion for triumphs everywhere..."

"But for whoever has lost his youth there is nothing to cling to and nowhere where melancholy can escape itself."

"...places where man can flee his humanity and gently liberate himself from himself."

"...above all, there is the silence of summer evenings."

"Those brief moments when day topples into night must be peopled with secret signs and summons..."

"Everything related to death is either ridiculous or hateful here."

"To feel one's attachment to a certain region, one's love for a certain group of men, toknow that there is always a spot where one's heart will feel at peace - these are many certainties for a single human life. And yet this is not enough. But at certain moments everything yearns for that spiritual home. "Yes, we must go back there - these indeed." Is there anything odd in finding on earth that union that Plotinus longed for?"

"In the evening or after the rain, the whole earth, its womb moist with a seed redolent of bitter almond, rests after having given herself to the sun all summer long. And again that scent hallows the union of man and earthand awakens in us the only really virile love in this world: ephemeral and noble."

Recent trip to the lovely village of Erdenetsogt proved delightful. Arrived Friday night after surviving a trip in a small yellow Korean bus over rather flooded roads which required the driver and assistants to leave the bus, throw stones into the river, and then drive over this newly created underwater "road". A normally less-than-an-hour drive turned into an approximately 3 hour adventure when the engine overheated and required deep gulps of water from the river that was causing us so much trouble.

The "doorman" who was in charge of managing the rock throwing and engine problems was otherwise occupied about 80% of the time. On either side of me sat some early 20 looking students likely on their way home for the summer from college (in UB?). Said doorman seemed to know these two ladies and wanted to get to know them better. Lots of slapping ensued without serious injury.

Once in Erdenetsogt the movie marathon began: No Country for Old Men, Rashomon, De-Lovely, and The Departed.

Saturday saw Wally, Leilia and I hiking for about three hours in search of a "forest." Turns out that the forest was a collection of approximately 50 or so trees which, in their defense, were able to provide a little shade. They were not able to quench our thirst or hunger...Super Kontik and Tsuivan over pasta noodles ensued upon arrival home (post blister investigation).

Sunday, the day of rest, was reserved for more movies and seeing the sites of the village, namely, the monastery which the Russians failed to destroy back in the day. Here is Wally with his "I'm-not-from-here-that's-why-I'm-standing-in-front-of-your-temple-like-this" pose.

Stayed up most of the night on Sunday distilling water for the epic walk from Erdenetsogt to Bayankhongor. Questions such as "Will we make it there without yak attacks?". "Which path should we take? The valley or mountain one?", and "Will this water distiller ever finish so we can sleep before we have to get up at 6am?" floated through our minds (or so I am arguing).

Day dawned, much coffee was ingested and we were off to Bayankhongor! Our first stop: two youths on horses wondering what in the world we were doing and reminiscing about the previous Erdenetsogt volunteer. It was about 10 am. The "leader" of the pair was already pleasantly buzzed it seemed. Second stop: an ancient jeep stops, doors open, inquisitive faces peer out, "Do you want a ride?" Ha! Need a ride?! Later investigation revealed that at least one of us wanted to take them up on that offer. I will not mention names. You know who you are.

I may have skipped the snack and dinner stops which were requested by...oh, I don't know...There may have been about 4 such stops. And one nap stop. Maybe requested by the aforesaid person...

But finally, after about 7 hours of walking we saw her! Beautiful Bayankhongor. Excited about this view we decided to swim/float down the river much to the continued indifference of the cows and yaks cooling themselves in our floating path...Our Chili and Egg Salad (capitalized!) had acquired a strange smell. Leilia disposed of them to the accompaniment of much rejoicing.

The Big City greeted us by selling us ice cream, eating my ATM card, and providing elderly women to cut us in line at the bank. The legendary Erdenetsogt to Bayankhongor trip: a small victory for Bayankhongor-volunteer-kind.

Here is the first informational email I sent from Bayankhongor. These were the days when Yak Hunter wasn't yet a blog...So long ago. Today marks the two year anniversary of my arrival in Mongolia! So: here is the aforementioned email with annotations (in parenthesis) by a soon to be "returned" Peace Corps Volunteer.

"Hello friends!

I am getting settled here in lovely Bayanhongor. And, as you may have guessed from the conspicuous lack of emailing, I have been busy as...a bee. I am teaching about 35 hours a week, on top of figuring out how to live in a ger, and implement/continue some secondary projects... (I have forgotten what it felt like to adjust to being in a ger - now life therein feels comfy).

First: the ger! There was a small scare when my director expressed her concern for my well-being during the winter if I stay in a ger. At first I was a little (ok a lot) insulted. Living in a ger was going to be one of my "I can do anything I want to" kind of projects...But after thinking about it a few days and calling some friends and consulting current ger-dwellers (Mongolian and otherwise) I told my director that I thought she was right, let's look for an apartment... (I am SO glad that I didn't move to an apartment: my host family has helped me through all the tough times these last two years, I wouldn't have them had I moved to an apartment).

Well, my hasha mom (who I had said nothing to, not wanting to ruffle feathers prematurely) had meanwhile ordered her son-in-law to chop down half of the lumber supply in our aimag (province). And she gathered coal...And started starting fires in my ger just about every night...showing me all the little "tricks" that a silly American attempting to live in a ger should know... (Oh Dogoo! My host mom is the best, she still checked in on my fire making this last winter. Our last chat centered around how "skilled" I have become at living in a ger: thanks to her, and school difficulties - she is one of the world's most sympathetic listeners/speakers).

My director calls me into her office one day and tells me that she just paid for a huge amount of lumber and coal at the urgent request of my hasha mom, and therefore I would be living in a ger this winter...Which, in my usual indecisive way, was what I wanted to hear at that point (the wonderful coal fire the night before was so hot I didn't sleep under blankets or in a sleeping bag meanwhile my apartment dwelling friends were freezing their...back ends off). (I had spelling problems, not that they have gone away: hasha should be haashaa).

In other news I now enjoy wearing business casual and even have the obligatory argyle teacher's sweater (which I wear with a huge smile on my face because it is made of camel hair, hilarious!). (Ha! I have totally gone the opposite direction. I wore jeans and a button down the other day only to discover that the director and teachers from UB were coming...Camel hair no longer provokes laughter).

I promise that pictures will come eventually...of the ger, and school, and Bayanhongor in general...

Days are already blurring together here and I have to remind myself once in a while that I am in freakin' Mongolia! What!? Surprising how quickly things get to be just daily life... (I said this SO quickly!? I feel that way times 100 these days. It seems like my life in America was a former incarnation of my current self).

After the first week of school, all the teachers went out to the hodoo (countryside). We were to leave at 1PM and left, in good Mongolian time, around 5PM. Hodoo visits involve driving hours on end into the vast, largely uninhabited countryside in order to cook a giant sheep and get really drunk for at least 2 days in a row...Oh, and eat lots of candy. Needless to say I did a lot of...sleeping. And candy eating. And tried desperately to convince people that I was having a good time (which I wasn't particularly). Lesson learned: avoid hodoo visits or bring lots of reading material...Also, never eat "hiam". Hiam is a strange, sausage like substance which is never fresh. I usually decline invitations to dine on this dish but thought it might be ok for some reason...It wasn't. And a six hour jeep ride (which is packed with 18 people) with a frequently moving bowel and a predisposition to vomiting is something less than pleasant... (Ah, the countryside: doable with family and lots of secret food stashes. The hiam comment makes me wonder why I waited till last September to eat a vegetarian diet...I have convinced my family and day visits to the countryside are fun and promise them delicious deserts upon return to "civilization" where ovens and ice cream abound).

Anyway, plenty of things to keep me busy (in fact, right now I should probably be doing some of them) but I hope that things will calm down a bit as I get used to teaching and my schedule becomes routine. We shall see... (This certainly never ended: always plenty to do these last two years. I wonder how different things would have been if I had lived in a village instead of a province capital, many more books would have been read I think...).

Let me know what you want to hear about (if anything...) and I will address it in the next update... (The time to request is now!).

I hope you are taking care and enjoying yourselves!

I miss you guys! (More so now).

Ciao for now, (Wow, I actually said this).

Tysen

Listening to just about every piece that the universe has produced that might contrast with Beethoven’s Opus 101 and Scriabin’s 9th Sonata in preparation for music school auditions. During said effort I ran across Mozart’s a minor sonata. Nathan kindly printed it out for me in UB (at the Peace Corps office – yes, I am that cheap) and brought it back to Bayankhongor. While I am a fan of the outer movements, it’s really the second movement (the slow movement) that appeals most to me. I have happy memories of playing parts of the second movement during the offering at church on several occasions. It's the main theme that get’s me: a simple arpeggiated ascent followed by a step-wise winding down, finally resolving after a simple and heart-wrenching suspension. If some or all of that description didn’t make sense we can either (a) blame it on my loss of correct music theory vocabulary after a 3-4 year separation from the likes of Duckett and Boubel or (b) forget about it because only the suspension is important here. So, suspensions. When you come to the end of a phrase (at least in most music…um…at least in most music before 1900) the composer usually closes on a “good” sounding chord, something that sounds “natural” or “normal”. The suspensions in Mozart’s second movement come right before this “good” chord: the note right before is just a tiny step above what your ear might expect to hear. This causes a certain amount of tension (likely even more so back in Mozart’s day). The tension lasts until the “good” chord comes and resolves the “discord”. When I was playing through the piece I felt like I could just “sit” on that suspension all day long before finally letting it settle into the resolution. I think I played it about 40 times in a row. Felt so right and appropriate. Yesterday I checked my email after coming back from the capital and our Close of Service Conference, all the news and necessary replies, all the information to double check and the paperwork to submit threw my brain into a tizzy, or tension if you will. Resolution upon arrival home?

Last May our lovely Nomgon mountain looked something like this:We had just finished giving a benefit concert at the theater (Leslie, Nathan, Julia, Dwan, and I). At the time it seemed like a freak accident type of weather event. This year, for better or worse, is different. Here's Nomgon mountain on May 8, 2010:

Similar, right? This year however such snow and accompanying temperatures seem terribly par for the course, with only a few warm days since "Spring" has started. Theoretically I should stop complaining because yesterday and today saw tiny puffy clouds, lots of sun, and T-shirts!

Chatting the other evening about how much everyone has changed since coming here and, being in denial I investigated the matter. Here's my sister Kim and I in April 2008 a little over a month before I came here:And now:Apparently my skin has seen more sun in its short lifespan...

In real news! School is winding down, just a few tests, speaking quizzes, and paperwork to do before summer and all its glorious freedom comes! Summer plans: German, practice (still looking for a Romantic era work that I (a) like and (b) isn't Schubert, let me know if you have any leads!), and eat egregious amounts of ice cream next to the Tui river!

Off to UB next week for a conference about Close of Service...time is short!

Today is an important day here in Bayankhongor: my vegan birthday cake came from UB! The local vegetarian restaurant ordered it for me and is keeping it in their freezer until Saturday (at which time it will be served with kimchi huushuur!). Since going vegetarian last September I have been frequenting this little restaurant often. Often here means nearly every day. For under a dollar I can get 4 huushuur or 6 buuz which usually fills me up! The viability of such an establishment in such a meat friendly place is mostly explained by Miss Ching Hai. Her new age-ish religious movement has spun off a number of businesses including our local little restaurant. Recent additions to the Bayankhongor restaurant are: chick peas, hummus recipe sharing, a variety of beans and tofu, and vegan sausage! Exotic items for such a small isolated place. The restaurant also offers weekly meditation, literature about how being vegetarian is going to put a stop to global warming (?), and mint candies that look like livers...have yet to try those.

So it is almost mid-April, right? Let's explain the following situation: snowfall today, with wind, snowfall two days ago, only 5 days of "the awesome hat" wearing weather. What is wrong!? We are undergoing an oddly long, cold winter called a zud. I think I am capable of enjoying this winter extension. Been having those days when every face with the backdrop of Nomgon mountain or the worn out downtown buildings makes me sentimental and reminds me that my time left here is short...

Was hanging out with Nyamtaivan (of "Send Nyamtaivan to the States" fame) this afternoon, correcting some tests she is working on. She helped me buy some cat meat then asked if she could hear the pieces I am working on for the upcoming concert. I naturally obliged. The f sharp key comes clean off the piano at the theater. Someone super glued it back into place. Surprisingly, that didn't remedy the situation! Result: two Joplins rags, a Mozart sonata, and two traditional Mongolian pieces with randomly flying f sharps.

Was talking to a good friend here the other day about such things: f sharps, two hour long bank "line" waits, "roads", etc. At this point such "disturbances" are frustrating, yes, but will shortly be nothing more than delightful vignettes and memories.

Lesson planned the rest of my college classes this week and it hit me: things are winding down. Reminded me that I have wanted to make a few lists ever since me sister Nikki came to visit last June. Here they finally are!

Things I will miss about Mongolia:

Aida, my cat (who is officially going to live with my landlady when I leave!)my piano students: in a country with almost zero pianos some of them still manage to knock my socks off at their lessonsplaying Phillip Glass pieces on a keyboard with settings number 33 (Strings II) and Drum Set Kit #5 (shame on me)the smell of vodka and cigarettes in the Children's Theater practice roompracticing piano at the Shuren family germy ger!Dogoo (my landlady) and her tea visitseverything being within walking distancerandom French rapping on TV after a long day of hitting people over the head with EnglishNomgon mountain, Tui River, Eurol River, Selenge province...finding extreme answers while correcting tests ("I am wearing apple.")

the feeling a warming sun after 6 months of wintermy little brother's sketching, painting, and card playing visitsmy amazing site mates: couldn't have asked for a better PC familymusing over the supply and demand of fresh tofu in this citymaking a 102 degree fire in January and enjoying it with some hot chocolatepeople singing on the street, at the store, and at workhearing Mongolianthe veggie restaurant lady's smiledrinking the camel milk that a student gave to a fellow teacher in hopes of not receiving a failing gradewrinkled old grandmas and grandpas in deelsOf course, there are also many things to look forward to about being in the States once again:

my own piano, upon which I can practice WHENEVER I WANT!!!live musiclibrariescooking with friends and family (miss you guys!)having an apartment and forcing my father to assist in it's interior decorationliving with less than I previously thought necessary (example: bowls and spoons, what other dishes does one need?)working with Dr. Rieppel in preperation for...grad school 2011!getting a new jobdictionaries and the internetfresh fruit and veggies, all the time!growing herbs, lettuce...anything in my dwelling placeWill likely need to add some things to this list as these final months unfold. In the meantime, enjoy Spring!

Word from all the music schools is officially in and I am officially going to reapply next year! During the interim I will be living in Minneapolis (after visiting southern Minnesota to see family and friends) working and practicing up a storm. It's looking like I will work with Dr. Rieppel on my audition pieces, which I couldn't be happier about! Currently re-investigating programs and it looks like I may be able to apply to some European schools this next time 'round!

In the mean time things here are far colder than we remember them being last year at this time. I am currently pretending that this means we won't see any unbearable heat during our remaining time here. School is moving right along and it looks like my English and German classes will end in early May. After that comes close of service conference and limited time to say good bye to everyone here!

Let me start by saying that her name isn't really Battsetseg. She is a janitor at my college (The Institute of Commerce and Business, or XUDS for short). My guess is that she is around twenty-three years old. Last fall she started taking classes with the first year students hoping to pursue her B.S. (in accounting I believe). She changed from janitor uniform to student clothing about three times a day and studied well: never failed to turn in a homework assignment or come to class.

Then, earlier this semester we found out that the government will be "consolidating" publicly funded institutes of higher learning. Next fall Mongolia will go from around forty-six to sixteen such institutions. One of the many being cut is XUDS here in Bayankhongor.

Once the news about the XUDS closure was official, Battsetseg stopped attending classes. Students with the financial resources to move to the capital (UB) will be admitted to the business university there. Unsurprisingly, many students lack said resources and as a result are rarely seen in their Elementary English and German classes this semester...

In slightly happier news the weather is allowing for spring jackets and more fashionable hats. This week saw the completion of the BACC's Embassy Grant and soon we should know a date for the spring concert (early May?). Waiting to hear from just one more music school before I write up a blog about those plans...

Be well and enjoy spring!

Turns out it IS possible to have a vegetarian Mongolian New Year without making people cry, beat you up, or offend in some milder way. Classes start tomorrow and I couldn't be happier: turns out three weeks of vacation are enough. I was reminded how short my time left here is when my host sister and I said our final goodbye this last week (she is returning to inner Mongolia where she is working on her Ph.D. in linguistics). Weather warming up here as it always seem to do after the lunar new year. Snow even melted a little the other day! Enjoy the Tsagaan Sar (New Year) pictures and be well!

There is a German development agency working in Bayankhongor doing projects in the yurt districts. The first phase of the project involved helping families living on the same street form committees which decided what kind of projects they wanted to undertake. Often these committees decided to build outhouses (when your outhouse fills up you bury it and dig another one). My haashaa family (consisting of three employed adults with cars and houses) was part of our streets committee and we ended up with not one but two new outhouses!

Recently been spending lots of time with the "Shurens", a family with a piano in their yurt which they allow me to use in exchange for English and piano lessons. Needed to use the outhouse the other day while at their place and discovered that their outhouse is almost full. Family background: a single mom (occupation: janitor at the theater) with three daughters (one is an accountant, another unemployed, and the youngest a high school student).

How did this happen? Most importantly, I feel that the blame does not go on the development agency: once the Mongolian committees are formed they are hands off concerning who gets what. The problem then lies in who becomes members of said committees. What kept the Shurens from taking part in their street's committee? It seems likely to me that it was simply a matter of time: the two adults who could have attended the meetings work until late in the evening (sometimes all night in the case of the mother). The fact that their long hour jobs kept them from participating seems...

Ironic.

Background: There is a popular drink called aarts here in Mongolia. It is made from sugary crushed curds boiled with water and flour. Usually drunk in winter and hard to find during other seasons (though summer 2009 study claims that aarts ice cream is available!).

Problem: Aarts does not exist (in sizable enough quantities to be sold or noticed at least) in the United States of America or the surrounding countries. The glory of this drink makes it an official criterion for civilized cultures.

AARTS:

Solution: A volunteer group headed by T. Dawer will go throughout the lands of the Americas and bring them both aarts and the knowledge of how to make said drink. This will result in 5,236 citizens displaying a knowledge of the aarts making process by the year 2020. In addition 39,386 individuals will have tasted aarts and acknowledged its glory.

Summary: World saved.

There is a Mongolian proverb that goes something like this:

If you drink the water

follow the customs.

This is considered by many to parallel the proverb:

When in Rome

Do as the Romans do.

It comes up every once in a while and something about it has kept me wondering about its validity, particularly in my current situation here in Mongolia. I think that the proverb needs to be metaphorically elongated in my own situation. Here's why: I don't drink the water directly. And this is important: after I get my water from the guy with a horse and cart it goes into my water container and awaits the day when it is put into this:

I drink the water but distilled. Application: Tsagaan Sar + Vegetarianism = invite people over to your place for vegetable buuz from the local vegetarian restaurant. Can you skip the distilling process? Yes. Some people can seemingly do so without any negative consequences. Others of us get giardia.

1) Spend time with the hashaa families every day.

2) Language study every day. This semester: Mongolian and German. Fall: start French.

3) Dedicate free time to music (Thanks to Mr. Cage's Autobiographical Statement for inspiration).

4) Read Persig's Lila.

5) A bet was made: Can I go from the first of January till Close of Service Conference in May without eating any Super Kontik? Of course!

SECRETARY OF STATE HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON

VIDEO MESSAGE ON THE 20TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEMOCRATIC OPENING IN MONGOLIA

RECORDED DECEMBER 8, 2009

WASHINGTON, DC

Greetings on behalf of President Obama and the people of the United States, I congratulate you as you celebrate the 20thanniversary of Mongolian democracy.The brave young people who gathered on the streets in those cold December days in 1989, including a young man who would one day be elected as your new President, helped pave the way for Mongolia to become a dynamic and durable democracy. All over the world that year, we saw a flowering of freedom. People stood up and walls came down.Democracy is never easy – Americans can attest to that. And Mongolia has faced its share of challenges. But through every challenge, the people of Mongolia have pulled together and have risen to the occasion. You have become a model for emerging democracies everywhere. Whenever I visit a country that is struggling to become more democratic, I say what I said when I was in Mongolia: “Let them come to Mongolia!” Because I will never forget my own visit in 1995 -- the sweeping beauty of the steppe, the warmth and hospitality of the Mongolian people, and the aspirations of a nation committed to progress after decades of totalitarian rule.In the years since, Mongolia has consolidated those early achievements and strengthened your democracy. Today even, Mongolian troops are serving around the world as peacekeepers, helping to bring stability to troubled lands. Mongolians and Americans are fighting side by side in Afghanistan against violent extremists who threaten peace-loving people everywhere. We honor the service and sacrifice of your citizens, and we reaffirm the broad partnership between our two nations that is helping build a more peaceful and prosperous world.Please accept my best wishes on this historic occasion. And have a wonderful celebration.

This blog has been smouldering on the back burner for quite some time. I saw two things and then was reading Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind and some things came together, at least, it seemed to at the time.

The first event was this: walking to school past the city maintenance building and heard yelping/crying of sorts. Not terribly odd on a cold morning but looked around to see where it was coming from. Next to the small white maintenance building was a pile of dogs. Apparently not all of them had been finished off properly... At certain times during the year dogs are shot and disposed of because they likely won't survive the upcoming cold temperatures or are a nuisance. If you want your dog spared you tie something around its neck on those nights and hope the gun carriers notice.

The next day I was walking by the kindergarten again on my way to work. In front of the school was a large crow (a large black bird of some sort, not certain) making quite the noises. Looked over to see that it was on its back trying to flip itself back over, which seemingly wasn't going to happen... Seemed ironic.

Then, like I mentioned, I was reading Suzuki with these things still on my mind. He describes visiting a waterfall. He argues that single existences are like the drops that fall in the waterfall: before the water reaches the falls it doesn't "feel" any discomfort it is just flowing along pleasantly, then it divides as it falls causing "pain" before finally reuniting with its watery friends forming a single unit at the bottom of the falls.

Maybe...

In other news I am in UB having just come back from Darkhan where I helped with a recording of the Secret History of Mongolia. Getting some work done in the city: picking up things for the library in Bayankhongor, recording some more piano pieces, and relaxing (maybe seeing the Nutcracker this evening). Then it's off to Darkhan again for Christmas and the weekend before going to visit family in Javkhlant for New Years!

So, it has been a while! The new school year has been keeping me busy but in a much more controlled and I-know-what-to-expect kind of way than last year. My counterpart is pregnant and has some other family medical concerns so there has been some last-minute solo teaching, which I actually enjoy quite a bit: using only English and the students manage that remarkably well. Next semester my counterpart will be on maternity leave creating an interesting teaching situation. I will likely teach with the high school English teacher from my school and the training manager, but time will tell. Will be an interesting loop, getting acquainted with new teaching styles and personalities during the last semester here.

Crazy! The last semester here, coming before long. While shopping at Mercury market (a place to buy cheese! Yum!) with Leslie we were talking about how different the second year here is feeling: so much more home-like, calm, and enjoyable. The Chamberlains are back from the States and full of stories about delicious foods that they have eaten, it's like listening to Marco Polo after a return journey. Only a Marco Polo with very focused interests: culinary ones. The three of us will be heading back to Bayankhongor tomorrow (Friday) so that I can get home in time for my school's Halloween party (I will be going as a Roman, reusing the white bed sheet I bought last year as a ghost costume).

I seem to be writing this post in a chronologically backwards fashion. I have been in UB/Darkhan working on music school applications. I went to Darkhan and made a recording there with a Mongolian friend of a former volunteer who is extremely helpful and full of creative project ideas, then headed to the capital to the national radio studio to make another recording. Sat down this morning and picked the pieces to submit, made CD's and mailed them. They should arrive in the States by mid November, I sent them with a little buffer time: the deadline is December 1. Feeling relatively good about the recording and thus my chances, but time will tell. School list looks like this:

New England Conservatory

Northwestern

Indiana University Bloomington

University of Nebraska Lincoln

University of Wisconsin Madison

The recording process was a new one for me. Very interesting how differently your mind works depending on whether you are performing for a live audience or making a recording. I found that my "recording" mind is much more critical and analytically involved in the pieces because I know I can go back and do the whole piece again. There's a bit more detachment in that respect. At the same time it's just you and a sound technician in an adjacent room making it more personal than a live performance. I can appreciate Glen Gould's reclusive recording making obsession a bit more now.

[Check out this wonderful interview with Glen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30VH1Messq0,

he sums it up nicely when he describes the recording process as both "clinical" and "intimate"]

A bit more work to do on the applications this evening, then out with friends to hear Altan Urag (a terribly enjoyable mix of traditional and contemporary Mongolian music) at Ikh Mongol. Check out their work:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0SQ9bp09s_w

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCkgASuVdnM&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6M6icVHZsM&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNBgBCqrQrc&feature=related

The next big thing: starting new repertoire! Thinking some Satie is in order, possibly the Italian Concerto by Bach as well. Definitely Schubert's D. 946 and John Adam's China Gates.

Be Well!

On the way over to the internet cafe this evening (a chilly, windy, four-layers-would-be-delightful kind-of day turning into a I-probably-should-get-some-wood-and-make-a-fire kind-of night) I remembered that I forgot to mention some good news from the NCAV concert. The benefit concert this spring raised 900,000 Tugriks which went to paying for two months of food for women's shelters and also payed for a child's bone marrow transplant, how cool is that!? Already discussions of repeating the idea next spring.

The elephant-sized news of the day is that the BACC opening ceremony came and went without any casualties! Teachers taught mini lessons and the director of Peace Corps Mongolia came to speak. Also a variety of Mongolian performances followed by juice and cookies! With the opening behind us the regular classes will start this week. Volunteers will also be bringing groups of students into the center to show them how to use the DVDs, CDs, browse the books, etc. Lots of books, CDs, and DVDs on the way too, so it's looking like a bright semester for the BACC.

The next big thing will be graduate school recordings. Yes, plural... I will be going in to Darkhan around October 24th to make a recording at the theater there (a friend of a former PCV there offered to record it for free!) followed by a recording in UB at the National Radio Recording Studio. Then lots of listening and shipping!

After that it will be preparation for the spring concert: willing be taking some voice lessons in preparation for doing some pieces by Ben Folds. Also some classical guitar, after January, thinks I.

Went running with Wally this morning. At first this reacquainting with the cold was a little disheartening, soon turned refreshing and am already getting back into my brace-the-cold-with-gusto-and-an-inward-smile mode. After all, June will come soon anyway.

Be well!

Hung out with my host mom and sister today in UB. The occasion: my sister is starting college in UB (she will study social work, my host mom's occupation). So, after eating some delicious, I argue the best, vegetarian tsuivan in UB we went over to a monestary to see the largest statue of Buddha in the country.

It was, big.

But that wasn't the interesting part. Hundreds of prayer wheels surround the giant statue. People spin the wheels as they circumvent the Buddha in a clockwise manner. Chanting (a recording? possibly monks hidden on the second or third story balcony?) provided a backdrop.

Half way through this circular journey we encountered a small altar with a package of strawberry choco pies placed on top as an offering. Tiny Buddha statues lined the walls. Candy strewn about their little golden crossed legs. I know that I am often appeased by means of candy.

Leaving the temple I ask my mom what the Buddha was holding in his hands: a large pitcher and a silver spherical object. Mom had to think a bit before she (seemingly honestly) replied that the pitcher "contained" holy/pure water. The silver thing: no idea.

Moving on to another temple in the same complex we see some of the lamas chanting. The kid monks (maybe 10-17 years old) look back and forth giggling, some chanting at strange intervals with the leading monks, another text messaging someone on his dinosaur of a Nokia.

Enlightened by the situation, I'm enjoying time with friends in the Peace Corps office to the accompaniment of guitar improv before we leave for home tomorrow.

Got off the plane from Bayankhongor yesterday and thought, "Why not take the bus into the city instead of a taxi and save 9,700 tugriks?" Seemed like a brilliant idea. Being a Sunday, lots of people got on the bus at each stop resulting in absolutely no free space. Every time the bus stopped or started we all fell all over each other: I almost killed a little girl ("I can't breath! Please move...").

Anyway, on the way into the city I see this sign: "USE OIL" written in huge block letters with the American flag used as letter filler.

Possibility #1: The letter "e" in Mongolian sometimes sounds like the long english "a". Maybe the attempt was so say USA using half mongolian half english lettering (?).

Possibility #2: This place is just really unabashed about encouraging the use of oil. I guess this shouldn't surprise me: this is their product, they want to sell it, so to promote its consumption makes a lot of sense. The States have simply become concerned enough with oil and its effects that such advertising would work less then wonderfully.

Possibility #3: USED OIL but they forgot the "d"?

Yes friends I was recently reminded of the fact that there is a place (or rather places) where people eat wondrous desserts (or make meals of desserts) for a simple euro per cone. This reminder of what I am currently not experiencing made me think that it is time to present the three things that Peace Corps volunteers discuss. *[Note: there is controversy about whether these items are limited to Bayankhongor volunteers or are universal to all Mongolian PCV's, I feel that the latter may be the case though I have not as yet found conclusive evidence. Working on it, I assure you].

Item #1) Food. Discussion begins with one of the following questions:

a) What did you make for dinner last night?

b) When was the last time you ate instant pad thai?

c) How many meals of the aforesaid pad thai have you eaten in succession (current honors go to Fahd with 4).

d) What if we combined X delicious exotic food from a warm place with Y traditional food from Mongolia. Sometimes this results in people making curry cheese...

e) Discussions surrounding what we "will" make this coming year. Take Peder for example who recently bought an oven. The list of "to be made" items is tremendous.

Item #2) Other volunteers. They may live in Bayankhongor, or not, it doesn't really matter. They may even be return Peace Corps volunteers, that's not going to stop us from discussing/judging/wondering/and otherwise commenting on them. We only came to this realization this summer with the arrival of American siblings (three of them between those of us in BH). They all mentioned that this is all we talk about (obviously an untruth as there are TWO other items...).

Item #3) The fact that we have nothing to talk about besides food and other volunteers.

This being said I recently participated in a discussion of the existence or non-existence of universal ethics with two other BH volunteers. This is a reason for hope, enlightenment, and possible social survival for a second year...

Take care,

Eat well,

and discuss something for our sakes.

"Only the modern city offers the mind a field in which it can become aware of itself."

-Mr. Hegel

Ran across this quotation (in the Myth of Sisyphus) while I was in the complete opposite of the modern city: the Mongolian countryside. A number of other quotations and ideas sprang to mind which seemed to justify Hegel's position:

1) Heidegger's idea of Dasein. A large part of our existence, (indeed most of it) is spent doing "tasks": laundry, dishes, paperwork, etc. When doing these "tasks" we usually aren't reflecting on the task, rather we are "in" the "task". For example, if we are mopping, we are considering things like the length of the mop, size of the floor, condition of the mop water, etc. We see the mop as a tool used to complete the task and don't ask ourselves metaphysical questions about the mop like: what is the essence of a mop? In the countryside I observed plenty of this form of Dasein. People milking goats, boiling milk, chopping wood, gathering dung, etc. Completely absorbed in their tasks, unaware of their "selves". In the city, nearly every task that I observed in the countryside is done by someone else, somewhere else, allowing more time for contemplation/reflection. [Unrelated note: potential definition of tourism: "observing Dasein"?]

2) Going to combine similar ideas from Goedel, Escher, Bach and Sartre here: other people are essential in creating the "self". Our identity is created (mostly or completely) via our interactions with others: someone tells us that we have x quality, y talent, or z characteristic. Through these interactions we observe others and our own reactions and come to see patterns of behavior. The number of varied encounters, experiences, and opinions that one can gather are limited in the countryside where you will likely see the same 10 (or fewer) people for months at a time. An obvious contrast with city life where, if only for work and the acquisition of daily needs one interacts with a large number of people and is constantly meeting new people.

3) On a similar theme, a Wilde quotation will suffice:

"My dear boy," said Lord Henry, smiling "anybody can be good in the country. There are no temptations there. That is the reason why people who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized. Civilization is not by any means an easy thing to attain to. There are only two ways by which man can reach it. One is by being cultured, the other by being corrupt. Country people have no opportunity of being either, so they stagnate."

While perhaps a bit harsh and obviously exaggerated, the point is that, from the limited number of people with whom one can interact arises a limited number of experiences and thus decision making both of which help create the "self".

4) One can't leave out Ferdinand Toennies in a discussion like this. The Gemeinschaft/Gesellschaft distinction allows for the individuation of the self which arises from awareness of the self in the first place.

The distinction between the city and country is quickly blurring even here. A perfect example is the ger-dwelling family in my yard. In order to be with their children during the school year they move their ger to Bayankhongor. As soon as school is over it's back to the countryside, allowing them time in both spheres. This distinction is also relativistic. Take for example the UB-dweller I met recently who considers Bayankhongor to be "countryside". Or, from the countryside dweller's perspective: usually three or four families live relatively close to each other. This group of usually three or four gers is called: a city.

I've been teaching "togoldor xuur" (pronounced like the following English words in succession: toggle - door - whore) i.e. piano at the local children's theater lately and have been working on my Mongolian music vocabulary as a result. I discovered this morning while studying some root words that "togs", the root of the word "togoldor" means perfect/complete and the word "togoldor" used alone has acquired the same meaning. "Xuur" traditional meant a two stringed instrument but is used in combination with a number of prefix words to name a number of other instruments. The idea that the word for piano is "the perfect/complete instrument" juxtaposed with the generally neglected state that most of these instruments are in made me wonder how this instrument got its name...

Classical music really wasn't around Mongolia before the 1920's. During that time Mongolia, with the assistance of Russia, drove Chinese troops out of the country. After the successful revolution the Russians didn't leave. In fact they did the opposite of leaving: they organized the government and infrastructure of the country, implemented a public education system, sought to get rid of organized religion, among other things. Because of all these reforms UB (the capital) grew enough to allow an entertainment and arts culture to develop. The Russian residents had an opera/ballet house, symphony orchestra hall, and other cultural building constructed. And with them came, naturally, the neccessary instruments.

Seems to me that this must be where the instrument got its name: they certainly weren't around before that time. Perhaps someone reading this that knows more about the Russian side of the story can inform us on this.

When the Russians left in the late 80's/early 90's they left their instruments behind, but without the educational infrastructure to support it. As a result many of these things fell into disrepair: I cite the requisite broken down piano in every soum (village) center (see also the blogs about trying to get the piano here in Bayankhongor ready for last May's concert). Another example: one of my piano students studies music at the national school of music. Her piano teacher studied...in Russia of course.

When we played the classical music concert this May it was the first classical music experience for many in the audience. Talking to some of Leslie's counterparts at the theater it seems that Mongolians, in general (dare I use such terminology!?) dislike or are indifferent to classical music. And unsurprisingly so! Imagine Mongolians running the States for about 60 years and bringing with them their traditional music. While it would certainly get some attention from citizens, it probably wouldn't be on the top 10 list. Similar deal here it seems.

Need not be this way. And to some extent, it isn't. The opera and ballet company is still performing though orchestra hall was burned in the July 2008 riots (what does that tell you? A political riot that involves burning orchestra hall...). I think that a lot of the apathy results from unfamiliarity. People simply haven't heard classical music. And if they have it is a small slice of what is out there.

Which leads us back to Bayankhongor and the 15 or so students studying both Mamu Nash Ir (folk songs) and Bach (even someone working on Chopin!):

The only person at the local theater that could theoretically be a piano teacher can't read music (this person hold a Bachelor's degree in music). So, what happens after I leave next year? A serious sustainability issue, that's what happens. My current thought is this: I have a handful of adult students and some very promising teenage students. If they can get far enough in the next year, they could teach after I leave.

In unrelated news the BACC received Wheat Grant funding this week with funds arriving in the back account next week: this means general happiness and lots of work to get done before the grand opening in September.

Lest I fail to provide an opportunity for my fellow Bayankhongorians to comment on the excessive citation of awesome French people I will now relate what I did in the countryside for two and a half days. Right.

My family and friends are always talking about going to the countryside and its glories so I will admit that I had high expectations.

Here's the skinny on countryside "activities":

1) People milk animals (twice a day).

Turns out that this is not one of my most impressive skills. I was quickly asked to "go drink some milk tea."

2) People watch TV. But intermittently because they are run on solar power.

It was Naadam in UB when I was in the countryside so guess what we watched? People wrestling. Again, and again...

3) People catch up on news: Bayankhongor happenings, family, the latest terrible that China "sent" here.

At least, that's what I think they talked about.

Since it was one year since I first read The Myth of Sisyphus I thought it would be acceptable to take a break from Goedel, Escher, Bach for a while (sorry Julie). Reading is not terribly commonplace here and is usually associated with EXTREME loneliness or boredom. Needless to say I was asked approximately 629 times, "Are you bored? Do you want to go home? Is everything ok?" etc. Yes, everything is ok, no we can stay here, and no, I'm not bored. In fact, reading by a beautiful and clean river is actually something I enjoy and is not a sign of impending suicide.

Soccer was played (at about 10:30 at night which means we really just kicked a ball around aimlessly and often into the river). No vegetable or fruit was eaten (except maybe my secret stash that I brought along). Gave the family I stayed with pudding and showed them how to make it: the kids ate it up in record time. Jello company: you owe me.

Despite my protests against the thesis that I was bored out of my skull my family insisted that we leave early. Assuming that they weren't happy about this series of events I made them apple crisp with Russian ice cream when we got to Bayankhongor. This seemed to smooth things over a bit. Apple crisp: always a winner.

Check out the pictures for the equivalent of ~95,000 words.

Was is really over a month ago since I posted an update? My apologies. Summer is naturally whizzing right along and the list of things I hoped to accomplish lies miserably uncompleted on my serving table with an occasional trip to my rather unused desk.

June can be characterized by: bus trips. My poor sister Nikki visited and saw far too much of this rather unfriendly means of transportation. Upon my third arrival in Bayankhongor in less than 20 days I promised my family that I would not go to the capital again until August, and then by plane (thank you Peace Corps: medical check up and Mid-service training!).

I think I understand now the plaque that my elementary school teacher had on her kitchen wall: "There are three reasons for being a teacher: June, July, and August" (or something close to that, doesn't quite ring right does it?). Indeed, the freedom that summer has provided, while perhaps not as productive as I had hoped is a form of glory.

First off, I get to make my own schedule. No directors, coworkers, etc telling me that I will teach so and so at this certain time. Summer here means: evacuate the cities for the countryside and fewer people means fewer requests to do this that and the other things (namely, teaching English). Strangely, piano students are popping out of the woodwork and I can't say no to them without killing part of my soul. Only teaching one class of English (only two people, terribly manageable).

Besides those few obligations I am practicing up a storm at the piano/keyboard, cooking, and trying to study Mongolian on a daily basis. Also playing Phase Ten dice with my 11 year old brother who beats me about 99% of the time.

I have a few stories in the bag but need to run and teach a lesson. Friday-Sunday will be in the countryside with my family.

A full report upon return, I promise.

PS: posted some photos that I discovered gathering dust on my camera. Enjoy!

We M-19's will have been in Mongolia one year as of June 2, 2009 (I believe that's the day we got in, perhaps it was the first). Because so many things about being in Mongolia seem so normal now, it feels like I've been here much longer than a year. I feel like I've forgotten a lot about life in the States (though I'm sure it will come back to me quickly upon arrival).

My recent travels to Kharkhorin, Khinti, and now, UB have reminded me that I have acclimated more to Bayankhongor than to Mongolia. In Bayankhongor I know where most things can be found, I have friends and family there, and my ger really feels like home. Being away from that feels like starting all over again. Or, at the very least, always feels so temporary and destroys my routines and patterns that I enjoy so much.

This really hit me the other day when I was walking home from the Peace Corps office here in UB. I had just discovered that a concert had been postponed, that our BACC grant will require further revision, and that I will have to come back to this city on the 27th of this month for another concert. Brooding over these things as I crossed a plaza someone decided that they should try to steal my water bottle out of my backpack. They succeeded in knocking it out of my backpack but didn't manage to grab it. It rolled across the plaza with a mumbling American following it. As if that weren't enough, a group of people decided that they would yell out, "Hey, that's mine." Clearly an untruth that I did not really want to deal with.

Made me miss home.

Discussing this feeling of temporality with some other volunteers the comment was made that while at times it certainly does feel as though we have been here forever, we are also always thinking about our close of service. So sometimes we end up in this strange place in between the knowledge that this will most certainly end and the feeling that it has been going on forever.

Second year goes faster say some, slower say others. I can understand where work may feel slower. You know the drill, and perhaps start the countdown school calender. On the other hand since everyday life will certainly feel more routine, time may move faster.

Bayankhongor will get three more volunteers this year, and that should help spice up our lives a bit. May keep us from cynicism or push us over its edge.

My sister Nikki will be here soon and the schedule of events looks something like this:

1) Hang out in UB for a few days and rest.

2) Go to Javkhlant and ride some camels, visit and swim in the beautiful river there.

3) Back to UB and then on to Bayankhongor.

4) Back to UB to greet the new volunteers and do some shopping before Nikki heads home again.

Summer will go by even faster than I thought, I think... Lots of practicing to do before I make grad school recordings sometime in October. Still have some pieces to memorize and Mongolian music to learn for another concert in October (again in UB, please please please let these two events coincide lest I go to that city twice in one month).

Fourteen months to go. My bets are on a fast second year. Will keep you posted.

So you may have read Nathan's most recent posting concerning the glorious Bayankhongor Classical music concert. A wild success, wild I tell you.

Rather than rehash what Nathan's dumbfounding writing skills have already entered into the historical record I will write a small review of the concert that recently occurred in Xarxurin (XX) on May 18, 2009.

We (Leslie and I with another volunteer who desired to watch what was about to go down) rolled into town in our van-thingy the day before our concert. Two days were spent in the near-by aimag center trying desperately to get to XX. One day we were thwarted by a closed market, another day by a drunk man who likes to throw glass and call women rather indecent names in Russian.

Putting that all behind us we were off to the theater to rehearse as soon as we arrived in the green and mountainy beauty that is XX. The school brought in their lovely casio with 61 keys (key number 61 unfortunately was out of commission) and no pedal. Once into the theater the school director asks me to take a look at the piano they have. I now know better than to get excited about these offers, alas. Wearing an excited face we go off to the piano room and discover that the piano has ringing keys, keys that don't work, and no functioning pedal. Last predicted tuning: 1980's.

"Workable?"

"Sadly, no."

What do I see when I turn to leave the piano? A 71 key Yamaha! Aha!

"Can we use THIS?"

"Yes you can."

Grand! We drag it onto the stage and begin rehearsal. There are two dilemmas before us.

1) What pieces can we still play from the BH concert now that we have only 71 keys and still no pedal?

2) What......setting....yes, setting... will we use? There are options like dual, strings, drum kits, choirs, and about 200 more.

The first question is easy for my solo works: Baroque or nothing. Turns out that all the vocal pieces are doable. Great. The second question is the really traumatizing one. One is forced to deal with the fact that you are about to claim to be doing a performance of western classical music on an electronic instrument...(At this point if there are any music professors of mine, former or future, reading this, I pray that you turn away, forgive, and forget what was done here).

We settle on the settings and decide that it would be nice to practice a little more but it is far too cold in the theater and it is getting late. So we borrowed the keyboard and planned to take it to the local volunteer's ger. Got it to the school before I decided that I was too ill to continue the preparation festivities and needed a good rest. Knocked myself out with Benedril and drank 3 liters of water.

The Day of the Concert

French toast. coffee. Off to school to practice a bit. Sleep. And it's go time!

We knew that we would be sharing this concert with some performances by the local school kids. Midafternoon we hear that there is a hip-hop-dancing, accordian-playing, energy-healing monk in town who just walked here from the Gobi. What a cool addition to the program! At 5 o'clock about 300 first and second graders flood the theater. Turns out they will be our audience. That changes things just a wee bit. We had 30+ minutes of music which we quickly wittled down to a no-repeats 15 minute set broken into two for attention span reasons. The show begins with singing and dancing, then comes: THE FASHION SHOW. That's correct. Then us. More singing and dancing. MORE FASHION SHOW! Us again. And...FASHION SHOW one more time. No monk. Not sure what happened to him. Perhaps he realized that this was not exactly his venue.

Trauma: childhood arts competition at the county fair. Little Tysen with his adapted version of Grieg's piano concerto crushed by the pink costumed dancing 3rd grader. This time I was able to deal with the situation much better.

Post concert. Everyone in shock. A "I don't think we'll ever see anything like that again" kind of shock.

The concert in Bayankhongor with countless frustrations along the way ended up going well. Yeah. Then began the grand plan to take the concert on tour: three cities, one week. We are down to one this week and another sometime this summer. The culprit? Upcoming presidential elections. Which leaves certain people feeling a little frustrated.

Took the bus half way to UB and it killed me. Yanaa (oh dear). Not looking forward to the rest of the busing activity this summer...I knew there was a reason I stayed in BH (Bayankhongor) so much. Can't wait to be back home: building a greenhouse outside my ger with another volunteer, teacher English, German, and piano privately, and getting the BACC ready for the grand opening in September.

Here: enjoy this first: the mass email announcing the concert coming up on May 8...hopefully

I know what you are thinking: “I haven’t heard a good art song IN A MINUTE!” “Gee, I always thought Webber’s Phantom was completely overrated! Give me Yeston’s version any day!” “Philip Glass?! I LOVE Philip Glass!” “What I wouldn’t do to see some decent ballet!” “Faure is so rarely recognized for his remarkable vocal lines!” “I’d do anything to get my peepers on some good old fashioned musical theatre, or my name isn’t Evan Buffington!” Well, pine no longer friends! You can have all of that and more! Join us: Dwan Adams, dance Julia Cannon, voice Leslie Ann Shaffer Chamberlain, voice and guitar Tysen Dauer, piano With special appearances by: Nathan Chamberlain! MAY 8TH at the Bayankhongor Drama & Music Theater Come for all your favorites like: · Bach · Weill · Quilter · Schwartz · Beethoven · Lerner & Loewe · Some other dead guys… And stay for the “life size” dinosaurS!So it turns out that getting a concert in Mongolia (or more correctly Bayankhongor) to happen is more difficult than my previous experiences. First I thought I had won the war when the pedal on the concert piano got fixed. Then I rediscovered that some of the keys don't work period. Some bass keys ring incessantly. I tried not to cry. Turns out we need to get someone in from UB to fix this situation and some powers that be are less than excited about doing that...we don't have time to lose...two weeks now and need to do rehearsals next week.Also the season of English Olympics which means angry teachers and students sending you hate messages, and the traumatizing realization that your college students are a little behind the fifth graders at speaking English. Yanaa ("Oh dear" my phrase of the month). School searches are going well though I heard back from a few schools that I was hoping would cut me slack with the live audition requirements. Turns out they won't. Which is exciting.BACC grant got pushed back a month because the grant sources dried up...temporarily. Maybe starting to televise the current classes at the BACC on Monday. Yeah!

How could I forget! Mr. Molon Khaan was neutered today. Turns out he only had one external testicle which the local French vet and her Mongolian assistant removed with the warning that the internal testicle may be fertile. Yanaa again. Said they didn't want money so I made them cookies and gave them the last of my walnuts. Molon is currently sleeping and hasn't moved in about 5 hours.That's the news from Bayankhongor. Going to eat some huushuurs with the Chamberlains and Peder, do some laundry, and hit the sack early to get rid of a sore throat. Ah, tea with excessive amounts of honey!

One of the most noticeable differences between Americans and Mongolians who I have known is their level of publicly-expressed nationalism. Almost every Mongolian I know is very patriotic of their country and culture making sideways comments about excessive fat in one's buuz an occasion for muttering and negatively flavored eye-contact.

Most of this isn't terribly upsetting though I don't completely sympathize with it. This sort of moderate nationalism exists side by side with more illogical kinds. A number of political groups have formed here that echo all kinds of been there, heard that nationalistic and even racist ideology. This week at the city wide advanced conversation class we will discuss nationalism's pros and cons. After providing a short preview of the topic at last week's class I was told that it would "start a fire".

I tried to set up this upcoming discussion by talking about good and bad reasons to dislike things (food, people, etc.) last week. Some interesting positions resulted including some people advocating a benefit analysis process for creating and maintaining relationships!

Check out the following UB Post article about right wing nationalistic groups here in Mongolia and their strange links with Third Reich ideology and iconography: http://ubpost.mongolnews.mn/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2446&Itemid=42

Wiffle ball season is upon us. Grant writing for the BACC in full swing and the recital preparation moving steadily along. Take care and let's hope that the long underwear can stay packed away...

Yes indeed. Especially when you get to be there until three thirty-ish in the morning after having stayed up the night before until four-ish attempting to have a serious conversation about the philosophy of voting. Don't worry! I am not currently under investigation.

The Peace Corps volunteers of Bayankhongor went to get free food courtesy of some American students at a local hotel who are staying here in Mongolia for a few months. After dinner at their hotel dancing was necessary. Strolled over to a disco club. As we get ready to leave (around 12:30) someone discovers that their coat has been stolen. Chat with the owners of the club. Police come. "Interrogations" ensue. One volunteer tells me that she was once at a restaurant that was held up at gun point. The questioning for that event took less time than our two and a half hour date with the Bayankhongorian police authorities.

In other news: concert is officially happening. May 8 at 8PM. The theater tells me they will get the piano fixed and tuned for the event. Proceeds going to the local Disabled Children's Center. What part of my soul did I have to sell to these people to make this happen you ask? I will be teaching piano lessons at the theater and school number 2 starting...soon. The program will, hopefully, look something like this:

Beethoven Op. 101 (Tysen)

Chopin Ballad #2

Se florindo e fedele

Les berceaux

What Good Would the Moon Be

Mein Herr Marquis (Leslie and Tysen)

Mongolian music (Leslie, Zulaa [playing the yoochin] and Tysen)

[More about the Yoochin and other Mongolian instruments at: http://www.face-music.ch/instrum/mongolia_instrum.html]

All in all about an hour of music.

This blog is being posted for two, perhaps unequally important reasons:

1) For the general education of the American populous concerning a unique custom of the Mongolian people.

and

2) The repudiation of accusations that this blog is sometimes something less than informative.

Tsagaan Sar means, White Month. It is, in essence, the Mongolian New Year. Why is this month so very white? Because one must (insert a modal verb of your choice[?]) eat white food on this holiday. What is white food you ask? The answer is as obvious as you think it is. Yes, rice is white food. Buuz (see one of the previous blogs for the recipe) are also white (if you steam them long enough). And, forget thee not those white, sugar covered nuts which Tysen has only recently discovered. But let us not restrict ourselves only to food lest we leave out the white drinks: fermented mare's milk, milk tea, vodka (?), etc.

The celebration goes on for three days during which time people visit each other's homes. Upon entering a home the following procedure occurs without fail and always in this order:

1) Hold out a hadag (blue cloth) and say: "Amar baina uu?" or "Amar sain uu?" The person you are greeting may sniff your cheeks (like an Italian but no kissing).

2) Drink your milk tea. (Other drinks will be offered - take what you please but be warned that one shot is never enough, at least three if you start that monkey business...).

3) Have a snuff bottle handed to you. Be asked, "Are you newing well?" Say, "yes," and ask them the same when you hand back the bottle. You could take a bit and snort it if you want.

4) Eat buuz. Every time you want to be done eating your host will tell you to eat more buuz. "Id, id, id, id, id!" (Which sounds just like the command "eat" only with a "d" instead of a "t" at the end).

5) Have presents handed to you. If you are close to this person it may be something like a shirt and candy, if not...well, be happy with chocolate (I am currently the proud own of 6 choco pies).

Repeat this process as many times as you want/can. Do not let regurgitating buuz stop you. One volunteer ate 100 in a day. No lie. Check out the pictures.

Against Happiness

In Praise of Melancholy

Eric G. Wilson

Americans have lost their appreciation of melancholy, argues Mr. Wilson in his somewhat poorly titled work (it is more in praise of melancholy than against happiness. Shock value, anyone?). Mr. Wilson believes that American culture is overly absorbed with being happy, and our forefathers better understood that life needs both happiness and melancholy to be truly meaningful. The author argues that one cannot help but be melancholy when one meditates on the human condition. The thrust of his argument is summarized well by the author's citation of Henri Frederic Amil:

"Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where all that we have loved or shall love must die? Is death, then, the secret of life? The gloom of eternal mourning enwraps, more or less closely, every serious and thoughtful soul, as night envelopes the universe."

Understanding the temporal nature of, well, everything, leads the thinker from abstract, theoretical knowledge to personal experience. At this point Mr. Wilson brings in the big guns, quoting Blake: "To Generalize is to be an Idiot. To Particularize is alone Distinction of Merit. General Knowledge [does not exist, while] Singular and Particular Detail is the Foundation of the Sublime."

Following Blake's cue, Mr. Wilson goes on to argue that this understanding doesn't end in a perpetual state of melancholy. Rather, this mindset frees the thinker from a trite existence and both allows us to enjoy the whole spectrum of emotions/states of being and forces humans into action (a rather blatant Camus rip-off).

His final message to his readers is one of encouragement: stand strong melancholy souls of America! "We want to be left alone so that we can brood for as long as we want. We want this because we feel most alive, most vital, when we suffer this confusion over the things of the universe."

By citing some of literature's most mentally disturbed character's Mr. Wilson's arguments unintentionally glorify artistic creativity over mental health, most readers will likely find this disturbing. Besides this, the author does little in the way of new argumentation. Rather he sums up modern thought concerning "meaningful" existence and throws in contemporary and personal examples to fill out these rather old ideas.

Oyuntugs and I are working with the other volunteers in the aimag to create an English language resource library here in Bayankhongor. Right now we are working on getting books, movies, music, and furniture for the room. The government has given us two rooms in the government center! We hope to set up our library during the summer and open this September.

Other news: Molon Khaan (my cat) almost died about 700 times last night. He ate one of my buuz so I put him outside. Our dog (Bombor) found him and chased him into the neighbor's hashaa. Molon waited on top of a shed and would not come down, even when I offered him a chunk of beef that I had just bought (it smells terrible in the meat "market" if you were wondering). This was the state of things at midnight. I gave up, tired from making about 150 buuz, and went to bed. At almost exactly 4 AM I woke up to the sounds of Molon and Bombor duking it out...on top of my ger. With my ceiling shaking and threatening to collapse, I went outside hoping to rescue Mr. Molon. By the time I got outside Molon had been chased back onto the neighbors shed. I grabbed my chair and broom and scooped him up, ran into my ger before Bombor could break in and gave Molon some well deserved fish. Realized at about 9:30 AM this morning that I failed to bring the rescue equipment (aka the chair) into the ger. Dogoo (an early riser) no doubt wonders what the hell I was doing outside with a chair last night.

The recipe for buuz for those of you who wish to celebrate Tsagaan Sar (see Nathan and Leslie's blog for real cultural information...).

First: Boil and mash whatever you want to put into the buuz: "real" buuz are meat (sheep or beef, though tempting do NOT use camel or horse meat, I am told that this is unseemly). I use vegetables. My Mexican buuz this morning consist of: peppers, garlic, onions, turnips, potatoes, carrots, and a TON of spices. After mashing it I put it outside to cool, tonight I will finish the process...

Second: make dough. Easy, friends, easy: flour, salt, and warm water. Shouldn't be super sticky. Roll it out and use a circle cookie cutter (whatever size you like) to cut...circles of dough...

Thirdly (hehe): put a dab of your (now cold) mash onto one of your circles of dough. Pinch the thing shut in any number of ways (experiment, it will be fun, or, more likely, frustrating...).

Number the fourth: Steam those little suckers for about 20 minutes and eat! If you have leftovers be sure NOT to re-warm them. Instead dip them in milk tea and pretend that they are tasty this way!

Enjoy!

Walking home from work Oyuntugs and I were talking about pets. Namely that Mongolians don't really have pets and Americans generally go gaga over them. Specifically I mentioned cats, as I noticed that no one here seems to like them. "It would be nice to have a pet," I mentioned.

A meowing noise was heard while I was tutoring the "ger English kids" (gEk?). Living in a ger, I assumed that whatever was making the noise had a 99% chance of actually being in my ger. We looked around: found nought. Mamu went outside to check the premises and came back in with a cat. The other two students were less than pleased about this (most Mongolians hate cats), so I told him to put it back outside.

Mr. cat decided that chilling out on top of my ger was the best of all possible worlds. When gEk left, the cat came in. "Oh, drat" said I, with all sincerity. The feeding of the cat was started immediately. My landlady came in and jumped approximately 3 feet when she saw the thing. Not terribly pleased. I asked in every way I know how (didn't take long) if it really was ok to keep it.

The naming process went as follows:

1) Mongolian name or other? Mongolian.

2) Normal Mongolian name or odd? Odd.

3) A Khan name (consult the calender with all the khans on it that Dogo lent to me).

4) The strangest names were written on pieces of paper by Mamu.

5) They were placed face down on the floor.

6) The cat was placed on the floor near the papers and we waited for him to step on one.

7) He chose: Molon Khan who ruled Mongolia from 1456-1462.

The next day saw Tysen buying meat in Mongolia for the first time. The cat was greatly pleased with his choice cut of beef. Milk was also purchased. A giant metal tumpin with sand serves as the bathroom and is cleaned daily I can assure you.

Pictures are forthcoming.

"We are at the Sky Theater," he said louder that the last three times, "We are going to the Big Department Store now."

Obviously they were confused, or we were confused-or, as is nearly always the case-we were both 50% confused.

"Where are they?" I asked

"At my hostel," he said obviously irritated that the problem proved what we both feared: our language ability was less than amazing.

"I told them that I have my stuff with me."

We crossed the street one lane at a time waiting for the land rovers, new compacts, and Russian jalopies to go by. The sounds of honking cars, though directed at us, was a pleasant change of pace after months of only animals noises (goats being my favorite).

"She's calling again," he said digging in his dirty green corduroy pocket for his Peace Corps issued Nokia.

The phone conversation was a repeat.

"No. No. We're coming to the Big Department Store," he said in Mongolian with unintentional measures of silence.

We kept walking. Now along a busy chilly street. Plenty of cars. No talking.

Maybe ten minutes later (at around six PM) we were reaching the Big Department Store. His phone was ringing again.

"Ok. Yes. Tree. Yes. I see."

"We will meet them by the tree."

"The tree" was an attempt (successful to be defined by the viewer) at a Christmas tree: a green cone with blue flashing lights (my interior decorator father's arch enemy). An overly-excited amount of tinsel.

"Is that them?" I asked, already certain it was.

He beat me to them. Necessary greetings were exchanged and we were finally on our way.

I thought we were. You would think that I would know better by now. We had planned to leave at two and it was already after six - of course we weren't going to leave now. Which only disappointed me slightly. I was done with this city: bought the food I can't buy elsewhere, saw the people I might not see again, and now wanted to get home (to one of them anyway). But I said only slightly. It is surprising how quickly a person can lose any sort of will when your situation seems out of your hands. Which happens quickly when you are not fluent in Mongolian.

We loaded our things into the van and discovered that other passengers were still shopping. We would wait for them of course. To a restaurant. Green tea put in front of us.

"No, no. We ate."

"Four beers."

"I don't drink."

"You should study how."

"I studied. Thank you."

"Three beers."

"This tea is good, huh?"

Attempts at chit chat. Lots of calls to his host mom's phone. Now one from the driver.

"Don't get it," his host dad said as they slammed the rest of their beers.

"Should we go?"

"Let's."

...isn't as bad as I made it out to be when I first came here...Not that it's beautiful but it's manageable. The smog isn't as bad as I have been told and there isn't someone waiting to rob you around every corner.

Training went well: two days of useful information for English teachers and one day of quasi-silliness that is required to write a successful grant. Volunteers and their counterparts were isolated in a resort a little ways out of UB which greatly reduced my expected in-city time. During (I mean, after of course) one of these fascinating sessions Peder and I started a limerick write-off. He won by a landslide which caused me to flee to my area of hopeful victory: music. It turns out that Peder had never heard the limerick song. I figured out the chords and forced a volunteer who I know from Javkhlant sing the limericks at the talent competition: a huge success (1st place). I also managed to play a lean version of "Mad Rush" by Phillip Glass (which got me second place).

After coming into the city I thought that I would leave for Javkhlant on Sunday: no-go. The buses don't leave on Sundays. Then, Peder's Mongolian mom called to say that she will be coming into the city on today (Monday). This means: free, non-drunken, minimized awkwardness ride to Javkhland tomorrow!

Coming back on Saturday I expect, then do a little seminar for the college where my landlady's daughter works. Then I will pick up some goodies for my family in BK and head home on Monday the 29th.

I have previously mentioned my Christmas plans. New Years? Well, my school celebrated a bit early this year. Here is how the party went down (in fact, this is how every party at my school goes down...):

1) Start at least thirty minutes after the said starting time.

2) Have two MC's who speak in an exaggerated manner.

3) Sing songs: in groups, solo, duets (never are harmonies present...)

4) Watch dances (which are mysteriously the same ones you saw at the last party...)

5) Do "disco" which means any dance that isn't a waltz.

6) Have a director of a school speak.

7) Eat food (lots of meat, some oily carrots too if you are lucky).

8) After the students leave, sit around the table with the other teachers and drink all the alcohol in the building.

9) Ask for a ride home (it is cold and dark by now...).

10) The End

I get to do it again when I get back from UB.

Right! UB. I am leaving today and will be there for a week. The following week in Javkhlant with no communication.

My hashaa family taught me how to make "lazy buuz" last night and enquired about my hunting skills and marmot eating history. Ummm. In pleasant news I convinced them that they wanted to try putting some of my spices in the buuz meat: curry, cumin, chilli powder, etc., etc. Yeah!

Oh, I had an appointment to make snowpeople in the hashaa but our new snow (which is drop dead beautiful on the surrounding mountains) is too dry. The entertainment substitute: thai kick boxing until three in the morning. A limping Tysen was the result.

I'm sure I will have plenty of stories to tell upon arrival in Bayankhongor. Until then enjoy your holidays, stay warm, and drink lots of hot chocolate.

That's right my friends, I feel that it is time to explain to humanity what it may be missing. Peace does not come through meditation, contentment, or control of vice but through sufficient amounts of that wonderful white powder combined with the water you bought this morning from a man with a very tired looking horse.

The reason is simple: milk is not pasteurized, and as a result it may cause minor to fatal stomach and other health problems... As we all know, people with stomach problems are prone to violence, and thus things non-peaceful. Simply by drinking a glass (or bowl as there is no word for cup in your language of residence) of milk may prevent such misfortunes.

Now, I hear some parental voices accusing me of hypocrisy at this point as I occasionally complained in my childhood about the wonder of this holy drink. I think that the problem was this: WARM powdered milk is perhaps as dangerous to the human psyche as unpasteurized milk. This ceases to be a problem when you live in a country that doesn't get above freezing for six months of the year.

In other, perhaps less interesting news: I can't wait for my training in UB on December 15th! I need a little break from teaching. Students are teachers alike are tired out and I am seeing some less than amazing work turned in these days... Yana (yikes....). I am putting together a program for this spring with Leslie and our friend Zulaa. The vocal works will include Wolf's Kennst Du Das Land, and maybe even some Clara Schumann, still working out the other details. On the solo end of things, this is how things look right now:

Gerschwin: 3 Preludes

Joplin Maple Leaf Rag

Gottschalk The Banjo

Adams China Gates

and a Mongolian traditional song arranged in a rag style by some guy from UB!

Already thinking about next years program too. Right now I am thinking:

Bach: Italian Concerto

Mozart: C Major Sonata

Chopin: Scherzo

Gerschwin: Rhapsody in Blue (solo arrangement)

I didn't feel so hot yesterday so I did some reading: Camus The Misunderstanding and more from Thus sprach Zarathustra. Nietzsche strikes me more and more as a little over the top angry at things. There comes a point at which it seems he should have just let some things go: yes, people ruined your life and corrupt youth, but being angry for the rest of your life (and in every other paragraph) gets a bit tiring... Maybe my opinion will change once my health returns...?

The copy maschine at work used to speak Chinese. By that I mean that tiny little screen that yells at you used to be in Chinese. In this way, when something was wrong we could just press random buttons angrily until it started spitting out paper. Alas those days are gone. Oyuntugs (my counterpart) figured out how to change the language to English. Now I am assumed to be an expert on Xerox copiers, shoot! I am the biggest luddite and now I get called in to troubleshoot this thing three times a day! Yana! No good, I predict that I will have totally destroyed the maschine before the new year... I will keep you posted.

Peder has just got a gig tutoring a doctor who wants to study to be a surgeon in America. Comes with a free meal every night... Meanwhile my ger tutoring has expanded. Mamu and Tsedevjargal come 3 or 4 times a week to make fun of my explanations of English grammar in broken Mongolian... They are fun and good students, so I actually look forward to seeing their smiling faces after trying to wake up and teach mostly tired and disinterested faced during the day.

Fahd and I are working on reviewing every restaurant's tsuivan in the city. Check it out at tsuivan.com. It will one day be expanded to cover all of Mongolia! How much fun is it? Guess.

Fritters

Chirros

Chicken

Mashed potatoes (variety)

Stuffing

Vegies

Biscuits

Gravy

vegie salad

Oatmeal cookies

Jello

Pudding

Pumpkin pie

Happy Thanksgiving!