No Plan is the Best Plan: this is my adventure: February 2008

2.18.08
I have thought before about the effects of weather on people, and today this was brought to my mind, as I noticed the significantly warmer air, the sun out, and a women standing outside praying. I have seen women throwing milk on the ground and praying before, but while watching this women, I realized I hadn’t seen this since fall. As I walked through the still Tsagaan Sar deserted market yesterday, I notice that though many of the shops were still closed, there were more young people hanging out in the market. It is the change in weather lately that brings people back out of their houses and gers to enjoy the feeling of the sun and their hands and ears not freezing. I was walking to work, when I first noticed this praying women and as I proceeded across the street, I continued to notice the changes in the physical conditions outside and in the change in the atmosphere. Today is an abnormally warm day, compared to the past few months, and I am pretty sure it will be very cold once again. So, in the midst of the knowledge this warmth is not going to stick around, I take my time on my walk to work. I notice the ice that has been on the road since the first snow is slowly turning to slush, the people walking around town are walking slower, and are more lively. It is possible that it is just my own change in energy due to this warmer weather, but I think it has affected everyone around me. I continue to work contemplating the effects of weather, referring to past thoughts of the effects of weather on crime in the United States, something I have always silently wondered about, but really don’t know the answer to. As I always do, I walk in the street in the best position for absorbing the sun’s warmth, I finally cross and my thoughts are interrupted by “meow…meow…meow”. I turned looking for what could be only the 3rd cat that I know of in my town. I didn’t see anything and was about to continue my walk when I heard it again. This time I look up in the direction of the sound, only to find a furry and dirty orange, white, and brown cat sitting on the tree branch. I look up at him wondering if he is stuck or just enjoying the weather, as I am. I stand there watching the cat as he stands up, looks down, turns around, turns back, sits down and meows again. I want to help him, but there is really nothing I can do. I look around to see if anyone has noticed this cat stuck in a tree, thinking to myself, ‘this is something you only see in story books. At this point in the story, the firemen would come with their big ladder” but I am not in a story book, there are no firemen and no one around seems to care that this cat is stuck. I look to my right to find two men fiddling with their motorcycles, and to my left, I am surprised to see a couple goats walking. Whenever I see animals walking through the town, I can’t help but let out a gentle laugh at the difference between here and “home”. Of course I keep watching the goats, only to realize there are not just a few, just as I turned to finish my walk to work, I notice more goats coming around the corner. I smile to myself and stand there watching as about fifty goats and sheep cross my path with their herder walking behind them with a small whip in his right hand. After they pass, I take one more look at the cat, and continue my walk, smiling inside at the random things that happen on a daily basis. It is not normal for a herd of goats to walk through this part of the town, at the same time it is not that unordinary. There are times when I am crossing the street, where we recently got a traffic light, (we now have 2 in our town) only to find a few cows in the center divider. Sometimes I forget that I live in the countryside, then these moments bring me back. Things here became normal really quickly, but it will be interesting to see what I think when I go back to concrete California.

about the deel picture.... the 'pocket' is the part above the boos (the green thing) and you stick things in from the side. people hide EVERYTHING in there! cameras, phones, gifts, bottles of vodka, etc...

2-11-08
I have officially completed my first Tsagaan Sar. I found that right before certain situations, I got slightly nervous that I’d do something wrong. I have heard that Tsagaan Sar will still continue until all the buuz are gone, but the official holiday is over. On Thursday, I was at my home, not doing much, when I got the text that read “The Catholics want to know if any of us want to go to the hudoo with them to celebrate bituun.” Sounds funny, I know. Let me explain. ‘The Catholics’ are a small group of people, possibly the only other foreigners living in my town. They are all a little older and are Catholic Priests and Sisters. They are incredibly nice and amazing people. If I recall correctly, 2 are from Italy, 1 from Argentina, and 1 from Mozambique (possibly spelled wrong). I have used the word ‘Hudoo’ in a few blogs, but for those who forget or don’t read regularly, it is the Mongolian word for countryside that has made it’s way into my normal vocabulary. Even in English. Finally, Bituun is the day before Tsagaan Sar begins that is kept for family time. It is not usual to invite a bunch of foreigners for Bituun, but I jumped on the invitation, eager to learn and experience something new. I got ready to go to the hudoo, slightly worried that I would be really cold because it was my first time wearing my new deel (Mongolian traditional clothing). I made sure to stop to get something for the family before all the stores closed. Finally, I put on my deel and walked to my friend’s house. We met up with Catholics, this time consisting of just 2 of them, and loaded ourselves into the car, ready equipped with our amazing, Peace Corps issued Alaskan sleeping bags. (I love that thing so much, I’m like a walking advertisement) The car load was a Priest, a Sister, and 4 Peace Corps volunteers, two of which were slightly ill. (sounds like the beginning of a joke) We started twisting through the Arvaikheer roads only stopping at a house to pick up a TV wrapped in Animal skin and fur (finally I get a small hint of what people do with it. I always see them sold at the market). At this point, one of my fellow Peace Corps who is visiting from The City (Ulanabataar) feels privileged to have already experienced more Hudoo than in the year and half he has lived in Mongolia. Living in Ulaanbataar is very different from living anywhere else in Mongolia. It’s like comparing living in Los Angeles to living somewhere up north, where there’s cows and stuff, maybe Humboldt… I don’t know, never been there). Anyway, after picking up the TV, we proceed to the road towards UB. At some point we veer off the road and start following the path ‘clearly marked’ by previous tires (towards zoonbayanulaan). I admire G (the Priest) for driving in Mongolia, I know I couldn’t do it! We drive for a while on a bumpy road made mostly of rock, surrouded by the beautiful country and snow covered mountains (or large hills), while G tells us how he met this hudoo family. He was driving with some of the sisters and saw a man on a motorcycle stuck in the mud. They helped him out and have been friends since. The family brought him a few gifts and calls him every so often, always asking when he will come visit. The family wasn’t doing so well for a little while, the Sisters gave them a cow, they made money from that and now they seem to be doing pretty well. While listening to this story and other chit chat in the car, I can’t help but realize that we haven’t been on any kind of path for a while and we have turned around a few times. G tells us that we are looking for a man on a motorcycle who is supposed to come meet us and guide us to where we are going. We keep our eyes peeled but don’t see anything, but animals (cows, horses, yaks, goats, etc) and mountains. Nobody has cell phone service, so we can’t call. G heads in the general direction that he thinks it is (directed from the family’s summer home). Finally, we see two men with motorcycles, one can’t get his started. G asks them in his admirable Mongolian and finds out where we are supposed to go. We drive up to an area with 4 gers and a bunch of animal pens and meet the family who we will be staying with. G goes with another man to help the guy on the motorcycle and we sit in the ger struggling with our bad Mongolian. A little while later, G returns and we begin the Bituun rituals. Learning time. G explains to us that the reason everyone stays with their families on this night is because it is the last night of the year, there is no moon, and there is negative energy that is being pushed out, so the year will begin on a fresh and postitive start. (my version of it) We begin folding the blue scarves (same one as when I first arrived) in thirds and greet everyone in the ger in the traditional way. This is with two arms out, blue scarf in hands. The older person puts their hands on top of the younger persons, you lean forward and sniff or kiss the cheek of the other person while saying a Mongolian greeting for Bituun. Little did I know that there would be A LOT of this over the next few days. Then we sit down, the men pull out their snuff bottles and pass them around, while the woman of the ger begins with the ritualistic serving. First, the plate of rice is passed around (everyone takes a pinch), then the flour mixed with some other grain and a little sugar, next is the plate of .. (I never remember what it is called, but it is made from the stuff that gathers on the top of milk when it has been sitting), followed by a bowl of candy, and a plate of aruul (milk curd, which I really didn’t like at first, but now I love it). These are the ‘white foods’ and it is white foods month. Also, included in that mix is su te tse (milk tea, which I also didn’t really like at first, but love now) and a plate of meat with a little bit of fat. Next comes the salads, buuz, and airag. We were told that after we have eaten buuz good, we will go greet the people in the other gers, but he failed to mention that each ger would bring over a plate stacked with buuz. The first of everything is always put on a plate and added to the Buddha shrine on the North side of the ger. This family was very kind with teaching us some of the traditions that we didn’t aleady know. After to were stuffed to the brim, we sat and passed around a small amount of Mongol airag. I found it funny, when the Priest sitting to my left mentioned that to me that Vodka would help with the digestion. He is right, but I don’t know many Priests and wasn’t expecting it. After a while of sitting we stepped outside and walked to the ger two gers over. We walked in, only to find a goat hangin out in the ping (the part before the door, used to freeze food, and hold firewood). We entered the ger and repeated all the same traditions, from greeting with the blue scarf to the passing of snuff, white foods, and mongol vodka. We sat and chatted for awhile, and found out there were 2 english speakers in the group. This family was soooo nice and inviting to us. I don’t remember if we ate more buuz there, but we probably did. Then we returned to the other ger to sit and pass airag. Each time we sat, the snuff bottles were passed. Just as our stomachs began to really digest the night, some of the people left the ger and we all set up to sleep. We rolled out our sleeping bags on the floor and slept. The ger was extremely warm and I was in my warm sleeping bag. I had trouble sleeping, nothing new. In the morning, we woke pretty early, and took our time getting ready to go to the other ger (this day was my birthday, for those of you wondering what I did for my birthday). On the first day of Tsagaan Sar, everyone greets each other at sunrise. We sat in the ger and waited for the sun to come over the mountains. Once the sun was in the right spot, we walked to the ger we had gone to the night before. We started with greeting each other with the blue scarves, sat and passed many snuff bottles, and white food plates, along with salads. The buuz came out, airag, mongol vodka, wine, and vodka were all passed around. This time we also had Mongol Beer, made of… I don’t know, but it has raisins floating at the top of it. The drinks that are served for Tsagaan Sar are the same as a wedding, but are different in the way they are drank. Tsagaan Sar is nice, it is much more relaxed. We talked to our new friends, took a TON of pictures, and sat for a while longer. We ate a ton of buuz, but this family had prepared 2000 buuz, so we really only made a crack. In the gers, wearing whatever layers we have put under our deels, including the burning fire, and the body heat, it would get soooo hot. So, at one point, I slipped outside to put one of my layers in the other ger. I walked to the ger, and there was a goat standing in front of the door. Now, I haven’t been around many goats in my lifetime, so for all I know they could be silently vicious animals, maybe a guard goat or something (it could happen). I stood there looking at him, inching my way closer to see how he’d react, when the door to the ger I’d come out of opened. It was one of the English speaking gers, she saw me and I asked if goats are mean. She didn’t quite understand so she came to me, saw the goat, took one step close to it and it ran away. He was cute though. She came in with me as I shed my layers and we again joined the group. Not much later, a goat came running into the ger, when he showed he didn’t want to leave, they decided to feed him some scraps they had been saving for the goats anyway. This family wanted us to stay longer, but The Catholics had another Tsagaan Sar obligation. They gave us Tsagaan Sar gifts of bread and aruul (because that’s the custom. The host gives the guest a gift as a thank you for coming)As we filed out of the ger to get our things, I watched the goats return to their pen in perfect line. It was amazing. We said goodbye and thank you after giving our gifts to the head of the family. We loaded ourselves in the car, and it was cute how everyone came outside to say goodbye, even to wave as we drove away. We were invited to come back during the summer, and I fully intend on going back. I’d also like to get this family like a football from America or something. I think they would enjoy it, and they were so incredibly kind and hospitable to us. This situation shows the general attitude of Mongolians.
Upon getting back to Arvaikheer, I am dropped off at my home, climb my stairs, my stomach feeling much better than the night before, and head straight for bed, I need a nap. I find myself referring to Tsagaan Sar as an eating marathon because these traditions that I have described are repeated at every house you go to. I guess, in a way, I am lucky that I don’t know too many people, I don’t know that my stomach can handle it.
I wake up just before it is time to start heading to another house for Tsagaan Sar. This is a little bit of a different experience because it is people that I know and one of them knows excellent English, but it is all the same foods and drinks. They are very nice, and we eat a ton…. Again. Once we are stuffed and have enjoyed each others company, we get ready to go.
After a little while at home, I head to an Americans house to hangout with our ‘city friend’ and he expresses how much he has enjoyed our Tsagaan Sar experience. I also have enjoyed this, but I am happy that I am in the Hudoo (which I’m not really, but compared to the city, I am) because I have more of an opportunity to experience the culture. I am shocked to find out that he has been living in Mongolia for a year and a half and has never been to a wedding, or even a Mongolian’s house. Life in the city is completely different than out here, and cultural immersion is much harder. Also, in The City, everyone seems to be trying to be Western. I did notice that many of the younger people wear deels and I think that this tendancy to stray from the cultural aspect of Mongolia is sad. This is an amazing country with amazing people, customs, and culture. I’ll admit, I get a little smile when I see young Mongolians with a deel and LA or Yankees New Era hat tilted to the side. This is the effects of MTV. (Not to mention that they probably don’t know who the Yankees are, or anything about baseball for that matter. Many will know Los Angeles, but not anything about it) It’s also funny to notice that it seems to be the cool thing to do to wear your boos (belt on a deel) low.
My second day of Tsagaan Sar was filled with three house visits, all consisting of the same rituals, with slight variances. My first house of the day was the home of my director. I got there, and I was the only one visiting at the time. She explained some of the Buddhist symbols to me, answering some of my questions, and then I sat down. It was funny because she seemed to be Americanizing everything for me. But I wasn’t sure if it was just because I was the only one visiting at the time. She poured me a glass of milk tea. While I was eating some salads and buuz, she poured a glass of airag, and I sipped it, getting ready to hand it back in the mongol tradition, when she placed another cup on the table in front of me, explaining it is Camel’s airag. And then a shot glass of strawberry vodka stuff. It looked like Margarita mix, but it was Vodka with a hint of fresh, yet sugary strawberry flavor. I did not expect it to be strong, but it was. It would be great as a Margarita for those who don’t like Tequila, but would need a little juice added. She asked me how to pronounce it, thinking her sister got it from America. I didn’t know. (how would you pronounce XUXU?) Later talking to a friend, combined with what my director said, I figured out that she had gotten it in Beijing, and it was pronounced Shushu. While I was visiting, a group of people I had never met entered the home, along with one of my coworkers. Every sat and began the Tsagaan Sar rituals. My director began preparing things in the kitchen and called me in, asking me to sit and offering me hot chocolate or coffee. I politely said no, and that I’d like to sit with the Mongolians. She liked this, but it was funny to her, and she felt the need to share it with everyone in the room. I didn’t mind. She followed it by telling them that if they speak slowly, I can understand. This lead to conversation and a great time for me to practice my Mongolian. After a while, they all left, and I stuck around a few minutes to tell my director, again, what I keep telling my coworkers. I really enjoy learning and being a part of Mongolian cultural activities. At this point, it was time for me to leave, I digested for about an hour before I had to go to my next house (my translator and friend). This was with all the Americans. It was all the same foods and rituals, beginning with entering a room of Mongolians that I have never met, pulling out my blue scarf and greeting everyone, beginning with the oldest. When it was time to leave this house, it was time to go to my 3rd and last of the day. This was a Mongolian friend that I have made. We again, did the same rituals; greeting, white foods, airag, plate of meat, vodka, wine, buuz, etc. This time we had a little scotch to go with the meal, and I tried Yak tongue. At first I was not much of a fan, then she brought out another plate that was warm, and I actually kind of liked it (that’s puts me at Yak heart and tongue, as the yak eating goes thus far). Kosher? I don’t know. They are almost like cows, so maybe they are a kosher animal, but it defiantly doesn’t have any of the other things making it kosher. After this house, I hung out with the Americans for a little while and went home. The 3rd day of Tsagaan Sar was not so Tsagaan Sar-esque. I didn’t visit any houses. I simply got ready for the next day (today). Today, I had Tsagaan Sar at work with my work people. We each brought food and we had all the same Tsagaan Sar foods, but less ritualistic. (no flour, or white food plates) I brought American food. When I took deviled eggs out of my bag, my director was a slightly skeptical, I could tell, “eed eed” I said as all the Mongolians say. Each person tried them, and they were the first thing gone from the table. They LOVED them. I was slightly worried because I don’t use much mayonnaise (which Mongolians love) and I add spices (salt, pepper, season salt and red pepper), but it went over well. The other thing that I brought was Peanut Butter cookies which everyone loved. Success. I don’t know what it is, but I get a little nervous before certain situations. This was one of them. I was nervous that they wouldn’t like the food, that I was expected to bring more than I did, and that my gift for the gift exchange wasn’t what was expected, and even that I would be the only one wearing a deel (weird, I know). But as usual, everything went well. They loved the food, the gift was appropriate, and everyone except my director was wearing a deel.
Now I am sitting at my home, writing about the past few days, not even sure what’s happening next. As far as I know, tomorrow is a work day, but I also know that I’m in Mongolia, so I should be ready for anything. Contrary to popular Peace Corps belief, I never once had to eat Sheep butt, the sheep butt sat on the table as part of the set up, next to the stack of bov (bread stuff) piled with candy and aruul. According to my fellow Peace Corps volunteers, Tsagaan Sar seems to go on for longer than the said 3 days, we’ll see what happens.
For now, Tsagaan Sar has become one of my favorite holidays, along with Passover (in Israel AND American), Thanksgiving, and Israel Independence day. I have enjoyed the holiday, but I am seriously ready to get back to work. Work has been very slow lately because EVERYONE was getting ready for Tsagaan Sar and had to prepare buuz and food. “how many buuz did you make?” is a common question this time of year. Also, Tsagaan Sar has given me extra motivation to practice my Mongolian!!!!

I hope this blog finds everyone in good health and high spirits. And I wish everyone health, happiness, luck, and success in the year to come. Going by the Chinese calendar this is the year of the earth rat and is said to result in good livestock and productivity.
Sakhan shinjeelare to all. (it means have a good new year)

I almost forgot to add one more thing:
As if Mongolian children are not cute enough! Mongolian children running around gather candy from whoever will give it to them wearing a deel to their feet is the most adorable thing ever. All little kids are adorable, but there’s something about puffy red cheeks and doing the Mongol kneel in a Mongol deel and even taking sips of a bowl of airag bigger than their face that will put a smile to anyone’s face. Next year I will be better prepared. There is a tradition for children to knock on doors and people give them candy and/or money. I was not ready for this. I got some kids knocking and I stepped outside and talked to them, not really sure everything they were saying, just figuring they were looking to visit someone for Tsagaan Sar, but got the wrong house. A few asked me if people were here, and I said no and they left. Then, on my way to my way to visit my director, I was leaving and some kids asked if they could come in, I said, no, I was on my way out. They looked a little mad. So, when I got to my director’s house, I asked about this. She told me that she gives them candy and a little bit of money. Now I will know for next year…