Saturday night I went out to dinner with my counterparts. One of them, Moogii, had just gotten a one million tugrik bonus (about $750, five times my monthly wage) for being with the school for five years, so she treated us all to quite the feast at a local Chinese restaurant. Aside: pretty much all the nice restaurants in this town are Chinese, and many of them are really freaking good, though quite different from what you'd find stateside. Saturday was a cold, bitter day, but nevertheless I was totally unprepared for what we saw when we left the place...
SNOW!
On September 25! Definitely the earliest I've ever witnessed it in my life. They were big, wet, heavy flakes, and they didn't even make it through the night, but we certainly hadn't seen the last of the stuff. On Monday morning, I woke up and looked out my window to this:
That day was bitterly cold. Literally one week prior it had been in the seventies. I figured we were in for the long haul at this point, that it was already time to start asking people if they were wintering beautifully, only for every subsequent day to be remarkably warm and comfortable. I guess the lesson here is: Mongolian weather is insane.
In other news, a couple days ago, several English people came into town. They're part of an exchange program that sent my counterpart Munguu and half a dozen or so other Choibalsanites to the UK this summer. These folks will be here for a couple weeks, learning all about life in Dornod, ostensibly. I get to meet them tomorrow at our library English club. It's always exciting to talk to other foreigners in this place. I'm certainly not the only one pumped for this experience. Zoloo has been talking about it a lot. A few days ago we were discussing it and somewhere in the conversation she said "the British are coming." I couldn't control my laughter, and everyone looked at me like I was crazy, so then I had to explain all about the Revolutionary War and Paul Revere and Longfellow's poem and how it sounded like Choibalsan was being invaded. A good excuse for an American history lesson, I suppose.
Tuesday night was the opening "ceremony" of Choibalsan's brand new fountain. They threw this bad boy up in a couple weeks, and it's quite the spectacle. Color-coordinated lights and all sorts of crazy cool jets. They were all lighting up and shooting out, vaguely in rhythm with Mongolian and Russian songs booming out of some terrible quality speakers, a standby of any large Mongolian gathering. Townsfolk were gathered all around, but no one looked all that impressed. Bob and I stood around for a little while, marveling as much at the technology of the fountain as at the countless other more useful ways the money might have been spent. If the fountain is like any other in this country, it'll probably be in disrepair by this time next year, which means this may be one of the only times we see it running, being as we are on the verge of freezing temperatures. Oh well... it was still mighty purty.
Just about this time last year, I was waiting patiently to hear where the Peace Corps would be sending me, finishing a long summer of working at Handy Boat, and gearing up for my ten-week roadtrip around the country. I simultaneously can't believe that was only a year ago nor that a year has already passed. I feel like I've lived at least that long since I came to Mongolia, when in reality it hasn't even been a third of that time. Absolute craziness. Here's a picture of me from the beginning of that unspeakably awesome trip, about to engage in a round of fisticuffs with a Québecois lighthouse keeper who rubbed me the wrong way. Clearly a lot has changed, mostly with regards to hair.
SNOW!
On September 25! Definitely the earliest I've ever witnessed it in my life. They were big, wet, heavy flakes, and they didn't even make it through the night, but we certainly hadn't seen the last of the stuff. On Monday morning, I woke up and looked out my window to this:
That day was bitterly cold. Literally one week prior it had been in the seventies. I figured we were in for the long haul at this point, that it was already time to start asking people if they were wintering beautifully, only for every subsequent day to be remarkably warm and comfortable. I guess the lesson here is: Mongolian weather is insane.
In other news, a couple days ago, several English people came into town. They're part of an exchange program that sent my counterpart Munguu and half a dozen or so other Choibalsanites to the UK this summer. These folks will be here for a couple weeks, learning all about life in Dornod, ostensibly. I get to meet them tomorrow at our library English club. It's always exciting to talk to other foreigners in this place. I'm certainly not the only one pumped for this experience. Zoloo has been talking about it a lot. A few days ago we were discussing it and somewhere in the conversation she said "the British are coming." I couldn't control my laughter, and everyone looked at me like I was crazy, so then I had to explain all about the Revolutionary War and Paul Revere and Longfellow's poem and how it sounded like Choibalsan was being invaded. A good excuse for an American history lesson, I suppose.
Tuesday night was the opening "ceremony" of Choibalsan's brand new fountain. They threw this bad boy up in a couple weeks, and it's quite the spectacle. Color-coordinated lights and all sorts of crazy cool jets. They were all lighting up and shooting out, vaguely in rhythm with Mongolian and Russian songs booming out of some terrible quality speakers, a standby of any large Mongolian gathering. Townsfolk were gathered all around, but no one looked all that impressed. Bob and I stood around for a little while, marveling as much at the technology of the fountain as at the countless other more useful ways the money might have been spent. If the fountain is like any other in this country, it'll probably be in disrepair by this time next year, which means this may be one of the only times we see it running, being as we are on the verge of freezing temperatures. Oh well... it was still mighty purty.
Just about this time last year, I was waiting patiently to hear where the Peace Corps would be sending me, finishing a long summer of working at Handy Boat, and gearing up for my ten-week roadtrip around the country. I simultaneously can't believe that was only a year ago nor that a year has already passed. I feel like I've lived at least that long since I came to Mongolia, when in reality it hasn't even been a third of that time. Absolute craziness. Here's a picture of me from the beginning of that unspeakably awesome trip, about to engage in a round of fisticuffs with a Québecois lighthouse keeper who rubbed me the wrong way. Clearly a lot has changed, mostly with regards to hair.
The snow sounds cool. I think I could deal with that, but the bitter cold? No, thank you! How is the heating in your apartment, the school, public places? Will the snow always be like that or will you guys end up getting feet upon feet of it? How cold is it exactly? Are you using any of your long-johns yet?
ReplyDeleteYou know, I can't believe the road trip was almost a year ago now either. I can't say whether or not it feels longer or shorter ago, but this year has definitely been been a bit hard to sense time wise.
Aaaaaanyhoot, miss ya, brother!
xoxo Becky