Greetings from Mongolia!

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It’s been two weeks since I arrived in the “land of the blue sky.”  I know many of you have been wondering how I’m faring.  With the infrequent Internet connection here I’ve kept many of you out of the loop.  I’ve attempted to upload photos on Facebook.  So far, ten down!  As the weeks progress and I learn about the schedules and the places I may go for Internet connection, you’ll see more blogs (hopefully) and updates of what’s happening with me here in Mongolia.  Thanks for your patience!

I flew out of Portland on May 28^th, arriving in Washington D.C. later that day.  It was very difficult seeing my family off.  Tears were shed, all of us knowing that we wouldn’t be seeing each other face-to-face for quite some time.  Yes, there’s ways to connect.  I’ve connected back home several times the past couple weeks through telephone, Skype, Facebook and email.  There is also the possibility of coming home at anytime.  I have not moved away forever.  The direct encounter and the familial embrace is what we knew would be absent during these next two years.  It is perhaps this absence that will draw us closer.

I spent two nights in Washington D.C. where I met many of my future Peace Corps counterparts.  People came in from all across the country, from the Pacific and California coast, to the Midwest, New England and the South.  Everybody had their own story, 46 volunteers, all with unique histories that all came together through Peace Corps Mongolia.  We were about to embark on a journey that none of us quite expected.

We flew out of Washington D.C. on the 30^th, making stops in Detroit and Seoul, South Korea.  From Detroit to Seoul it was a 14-hour flight.  Luckily for me, somebody was generous enough to give me a sleeping pill, which put me out for a couple hours.  I sat next to a fellow volunteer named Jennifer.  We kept each other company at times and attempted to sleep at other times.  Flying west, we never saw the sun go down between the 30^th and the 31^st. 

We arrived in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia at about 11 p.m.  As soon as we got off the airplane and through international customs, we were greeted by the PC staff and a large group of current PCVs who cheered for us as we walked through the airport.  When we stepped outside, it was cold.  I knew Mongolia was known for being cold.  Mongolia is supposed to get into the negative degrees during the winter.  Oh boy!  After we got outside, we boarded a bus and headed off to a tourist ger camp.  I was in a ger with four other roommates:  Adam, Aaron, Tom and David.  The ger is a popular housing unit used for thousands of years in Mongolia.  If you’re not familiar with it, Google it!   We stayed a few nights in this camp, visiting the capital city of Ulaanbaatar one day, and having a few sessions led by PC trainers. 

We then headed off to Darkhan, a smaller city north of Ulaanbaatar.  We stayed there several nights, on a tight schedule with language classes and health and cultural sessions.   Our group really got to know each other at this time.  We went out several evenings for drinks and food.  One night I ate cow tongue (delicious!).  My roommate in Darkhan’s name was Adam, a very awesome and entertaining guy.  We hung out along with several others quite a bit.  During that first week it felt like our group knew each other for years.  We all connected so well. 

A Mongolian with his herd crossing the road

On Friday June 7 (my dad’s birthday), our large group split into several smaller groups based on our job assignment.  I along with nine others made up one group of TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) trainers.  Our group boarded a separate van, which took us to where our host families were.  I was nervous.  The entire time I was in Mongolia I was with other Americans.  I communicated with Mongolians whenever an opportunity presented itself.  Now, I was going to be living with a Mongolian host family that didn’t speak any English and whose customs were not my own.  I feared the unknown.  I felt comfort knowing all the other 45 volunteers would be going through the same thing. 

We arrived in a small village outside the city of Sukhbaatar (close to the Russian border) and were brought to the school, where we were introduced to our host family.  When my name was called, I went up to my host father who had a bowl of warm milk (sutatse), which I drank after he kissed both of my cheeks.  That to me was an authentic Mongolian greeting for welcoming me into the family.  His name was Ganbold.  He had a wife, Oyuna, and two sons, Orgil (24) and Bapo (15).  After the introductions, we were sent off with our host families.

I arrived in my family’s home and was given a room.  It was pretty large.  Ganbold is a carpenter by trade, his wife a kindergarten teacher (I feel like a kindergartener all over again trying to learn Mongolian!).  Orgil graduated from the University, and Bapo is still in school (though he looks to be in his 20s).  Right when I put all my stuff in the room, they invited me into the kitchen and we ate lunch together.  Ever since then every meal has included sutatse, known as “milk tea.”  It’s basically warm milk.  It is a staple here in Mongolia.  Whenever I go to visit another home, sutatse is the main drink.  For food we had these little patties stuffed with mashed potatoes and meat.  Other days we had soup and other pastries.  Every meal I was overstuffed.  Whenever you finish what’s on your plate or cup, they would refill it right away.  Whenever I am visiting another Mongolians house, they feed me more food and sutatse.  If I live like this with no exercise, I’d become immobile! 

On Saturday and Sunday, I helped the brothers pull dirt from a hole, filling a wheelbarrow, which was dumped nearby.  One of the brothers would climb down the 15-foot hole, filling up a bucket that was dropped, while I used a pulley to pull up the bucket and dump it in the wheelbarrow.  I asked what the hole was going to be used for, assuming it was going to be used as a jorslung, or “outhouse.”  They laughed and told me they were going to use it for os, which means they were digging for water.  The work was definitely the exercise I needed.  My hands felt blistered, but I felt like I contributed.  Speaking of jorslung, whenever one needs to pee or crap, they would go out to the jorslung, which is a small wooden shed with a hole.  There’s no seat, no cushions, no railings or handles.  You literally squat and hope you don’t miss.  I freak out at times thinking the board holding me up is going to break, and I would fall into the big hole of sewage.  Lucky for me, Ganbold is a carpenter and I trust he builds things pretty sturdy.

On Saturday Ganbold took me to meet up with another fellow volunteer’s family to take pictures in Sukhbaatar.  Sukhbaatar was a leader in the revolution freeing Mongolia from Chinese rule.  The city was named after him, and there are statues bearing his name all around the city.  The fellow volunteer, April, has been my buddy the last couple days as we learned to adapt to the culture shock of living in an area almost absent of English.  Her host brother is an avid guitar player, very good, and upon seeing him he immediately brings me his guitar to play.  He’s only 15, and he’s already surpassed me with picking.  Still, he’s fascinated by the fact that I can play too.  We took several pictures together with both our guitars in Sukhbaatar. 

With all that said, I miss home.  The last couple days I have found much time on my hands, leaving my mind open to wander.  Culture shock has kicked in.  I think about my family.  I think about my mom, my dad, my brothers, my sisters, my relatives, my friends.  I think about American living, how I’m a world away from everything that I know.  Tears have come to me knowing I’ll be doing this for two years without experiencing home.  It’s only the second week, and it seems like a lot longer.  But I also know that I expected this to be part of my journey.  I expected to go through homesickness, through hardships and trials.  Hardships would also come if I were back in the States.  This was my choice.

In life, there are many paths we can take on our life journey.   All paths will have both barriers and triumphs.  Despite the inevitable suffering us humans will go through in life, we have the freedom to choose our path and our attitude.  We are all extraordinary.  My path has decided to take me here, and I’m eager to discover why.

Blessings to all of you back home.  I’m praying and sending my loving thoughts daily.  Summer has just begun!