Tsagaan Sar: Enter the Year of the Ox

Tsagaan Sar has so far been one of best experiences we've had in Mongolia. We were wined and dined all over town. We ate hundreds of buuz and bainsh and drank gallons a various beverages. We've met some wonderful new people and hopefully affirmed some lasting bonds with others.

If you like the photos you see here, we have a lot more with some detailed captions you can check out here. For more information on the holiday, check out our other blog post, Tsagaan Sar: We see a White Moon a risin'.

Day 1.
Nathan went to the top of the Erdenemandel mountain in the middle of town to greet the first rays of the new sun on the first day of the Lunar New Year. The irony of appreciating the sun on a lunar holiday was not lost on us, but Nathan got to the top just as the sun broke over the Ikh Nomgon mountain on the eastern side of the city.
Later that day, we went with Tysen to our friends' house. The father and daughter are high school English teachers at different schools and the mother is a retired economist who owns a small restaurant now. As per the custom, we dressed up in our Mongolian best, said our Tsagaan Sar greetings "Amar bain uu?", shared our snuff bottles, ate lots of food, drink and sweets, and recieved a gift for coming.

Later after a nap and a movie, Nathan's driver Choka and his co-worker Undrah picked us up. We went first to Choka's palatial western-style, two story house and met his family with our "Amar bain uu?"s and snuff bottles. His wife and son (who looks just like him) are a real fun sort and she made some really tasty buuz. We posed for a group picture, then moved on to Undrah's. At Undrah's ger, we did the same. A pattern was developing.



Day 2.
Nathan's new friend and English student, Bayanmunk, had us over. He's a high-school physics teacher and since his wife, Tunga, is an important judge, they've moved around a little bit for her job. As a result, they don't really have family in the area, which is good because we were able to spend most of the day being gorged by their "American-style" pasta, mutton, candy bars, Coca-Cola, cherries, strwaberries, steamed yeast bread, beef, etc, etc, etc. We were also treated to an intorduction to the head prosecuter in town who paused for a few minutes to chat on his two-way with the chief of police.



















Day 3.
After our glutinous good time on Day 2, we didn't know just how much more we were up for. Day 3 is typically the day to spend with co-workers and we'd had loose plans with Leslie's, but we had no clue when or where. It's OK, because Leslie's co-worker Dogoo gave us 3 minutes warning that she was in a car on her way. We dressed, she drove and thus began another marathon day of mutton, buuz, milk products, candy and fun!

We must have gone to ten different houses that day. As required, we did our best to eat our three buuz and politely sip our generous portions of several different beverages. We had some real fancy-pants buuz at some places that even included hot peppers. What a treat and what a surpise, but yhey are theater folk, after all.

Day 4.
We spent with our new friend Demo and his family. He's a 21 year-old first year English teacher. His parents are both doctors, his one sister is a dentist, and his other sister is a college student. His parents told us over and over again their's was a family of doctors, reminding us frequently that Demo was not a docter, he was a teacher and translator. We had a really fun time with them, but neglected to take a picture.

Afterwards, they arranged a car ride to Nathan's other counterpart's house for a quick stop for some tea, milk products, vodka and meat. Again, as with each place we went, we exchanged our "Amar bain uu's?", snuff bottles and other pleasantries.

After that, we arranged another ride to the home of Tserensuren who runs a program for children with special needs, and with whom Leslie has been working with recently. Her son is deaf, among other limitations. Since there were no real resources for children like him, Tserensuren started a program at the hospital and worked closely with another PCV who recently returned to the States. They have a good thing going and it was good to share some time in her home. We're likely not to make it back too often because it is for real on the edge, edge of town. Without a ride, it would have taken about an hour to walk.

So, we finally got through the first few official days of Tsagaan Sar, though we were the worse for wear. It seems all the communal eating and drinking and lack of sleep over the past 5 days caught up with our bodies, and we have both been under the weather with a wicked throat and chest cold.

We were supposed to leave for Sukhbaatar on that Sunday, but the Russian van we booked the day before was greedily overbooked when we went to leave. We chose to let our sitemate Peder take the last remaining seat and went home. When we awoke the next day and tried to leave, we were just too completely worn out. We opted not to travel for a couple more days and this time we bought bus tickets, which had been sold out before. Bus tickets are cheaper than a crammed van and cost less.

Now we're in UB after a few days hanging with our host familes and our American friends in Sukhbaatar. We're still sick, both with the same nasty, nasty cough, but after meeting with our medical officer, we have some more agressive treatment than our gargling salt water, drinking tea, and popping pain pills. He says our cough is most likely pollution related.

Tsagaan Sar: We see a White Moon a risin'

The very important Lunar New Year celebration is upon us this coming week - Tsagaan Sar.

Though technically there's only a few days of formal celebration of the holiday, we're told the festivities can last much longer, even weeks, and that it's hard to accomplish much during that time. We look forward to experiencing our first Tsagaan Sar in Bayankhongor with friends and colleagues who have already extended invitations over three days, and then make a trip to the other side of the country to celebrate with our host families.

Unlike the Christmasy New Year celebrations Mongolians hold on January 1 as a Communist leftover, this holiday helps Mongolians re-tap their herder roots with traditional dress, food and greetings.

To help explain more about what and when it is, we have specially edited materials from our lovely and helpful Peace Corps language coordinator, Ganaa. Read on.


Part I. What is the Tsagaan Sar?

The new year according to the Oriental lunar calendar in Mongolia is called Tsagaan Sar, which translates as the "White Month" or "White Moon." There are many opinions about the origin of the name, but Mongolians use white to symbolize happiness, purity and an abundance of milk products.

Some researchers believe that the lunar calendar was invented by the nomadic tribes of Central Asia and a number of Eastern and Central Asian countries, including Mongolia, have followed the lunar calendar since ancient times. The calendar consists of 12 years with 12 months in a year and 12 hours in a day. The years bear the names of animals, like the upcoming Year of the Cow, and Mongolians judge the coming year by the animal name it bears.

1. The Year of the Mouse promises good livestock productivity, especially in camels.
2. It snows heavily in the Year of the Cow and there is plenty of food and milk.
3. The Year of the Tiger is rather hard at the end.
4. The Year of the Hare is favorable at the beginning and spells disasters at the end.
5. The Year of the Dragon is rainy and floods may occur.
6. The Year of the Snake brings many disruptions and worries.
7. The Year of the Horse is also rather disturbing,
8. but the Year of the Sheep that follows it is favorable in all respects.
9. The Year of the Monkey, although cold and troublesome, brings in a bumper harvest.
10. The Year of the Cock is one of fertility and higher birth rate.
11. The Year of the Dog is severe at the beginning and kind towards the end.
12. The concluding Year of the Pig promises rich harvests, yet food shortages, should they occur, will hit hard.

Nowadays there is an argument among Mongolian astrologers about the celebration date of Tsagaan Sar because depending on the phases of the moon and the calendar used, it falls anywhere between the end of January and early March. Some say we should follow the lunar calendar invented by Tibetans, while others prefer to follow the one used by the Chinese. Either way, this year's Tsagaan Sar will be celebrated on the 25th or 26th of February. [Most people will celebrate on the 25th.]

New Year’s Eve in Mongolia is called “Bituun” - the last dinner of the old year. One must eat all the traditional dishes that evening: boiled lamb or beef, a huge variety of milk products, buuz or bansh (large or small meat and fat-filled steamed dumplings) and desserts. Many families have the tradition of placing coins inside the buuz/bansh and whoever bites into the one with the coins will have good luck. At the end of the evening, everyone’s stomach is fully satisfied.

The following morning everyone rises bright and early to walk outside of their house in the correct direction, which is indicated in their horoscope of the year. This symbolizes that the destiny of each person is directed correctly for the upcoming year. Then family members then gather around the eldest in the family and greet each other by wishing him a very happy new year.


Part II. Tsagaan Sar Celebration Customs

At sunrise of the new day, hosts and his guests dress in new dells and greet each other in a special manner. First, the youngest greets the eldest as the older person holding out his/her arms. The elder puts his hands palms down on the arms of the younger one and both pronounce traditional good wishes and rub cheeks while the older person sniffs on either side of the face, which is considered the Mongolian traditional “kiss”. Even if new year celebrations are over, friends and relatives meeting for the first time that year greet each other in this manner. [Nathan witnessed this in July when host family members visited from far away for the first time that year.]

In towns and cities, Tsagaan Sar is celebrated for 1-3 days and in the countryside villages, the reveling continues for about a week or more. Guests may come and go at any time of the day and families serve guests with plenty of meals: buuz/bansh, salads, vodka, etc. Families also give small gifts to their guests.

Traditions and customs are different from place to place and from family to family. Even for Mongolians, it is impossible to follow every tradition, but by observing and practicing you can learn a lot.

General tips during Tsagaan Sar:

• When visiting, greet the oldest member of the family first
• When you greet the eldest, give a small amount of 500-1000 tugriks to them depending on your site custom. Some places don’t do that.
• Dress nicely. Mongolians like to greet the new year by making everything new, so many people buy or sew new dells (traditional long robes with a contrasting cloth or leather belts).
• During Tsagaan Sar, people visit many families in one day. If you are going to many families, save room to eat 2-3 buuz with each family. It is polite to taste everything (start with white food), candy, cakes, meat, salads, whatever, but just a little bit. If you are a strict vegetarian, it is OK to say “Bi makh iddegui.” (I don’t eat meat at all).
• When offered vodka or airag (fermented mare's milk) and you wish not to drink it, accept it and simply bring it to your lips then return it.
• When you have visitors, the best thing to do is to keep your pot full of hot water and have tea ready. Candy/cookies are always good to offer. You do not need to prepare an elaborate meal; this should not be expected of you.
• When someone gives a gift to you, receive it with both hands and DON’T put it on the floor.

We hope this gives you a good idea what we'll experience in the coming week. We look forward to reporting back on how it went.

Who's On My Valentine?

On Thursday, just before Valentine's Day, we got a package from my mother filled with Hershey's Kisses, various small candy bars, heart-shaped candy and little Disney themed Valentines.

Thursday night, we wrote the names of our counterparts on the one side, our names on the other, and sealed them with a cute little heart sticker.

When I got to work on Friday, I took out the bag of Hershey's Kisses and began handing them out with the cards to my 6 counterparts, who wore general looks of interested confusion. My supervisors, who speak English, were in town from UB, so I said in English, "Do you guys celebrate Valentine's Day?"

Then the mood changed as the ones who speak English became giddy and quickly filled in the rest. Everyone who was busy clacking on computers and yacking on cell phones stopped what they were doing to get a better look at what was going on.

I explained to them that the cards I gave them generally used to end up in the homemade decorated shoe boxes, cylindrical cardboard oatmeal containers and modified bags of every elementary school child when I was growing up. Most of the fun of Valentine's Day was making the boxes and trying make sure I wrote down the names of every classmate, especially the cutest girls, so that everyone had a Valentine.

Though Mongolians know Mickey Mouse, my favorite part of giving the cards to my counterparts was explaining the Disney character, Minnie Mouse. It was no sweat in English, but in Mongolian, it was hysterical. The word for "my" in Mongolian is "minii", pronounced just like Mickey's tart, high-heeled love interest, but with the emphasis on the second syllable.

So, in our perfect Abbott and Costello, Who's On First banter, I asked one counterpart if she knew who the character.

"Your mouse? I thought you were giving it to me," my counterpart said.

"No, her name is Minnie Mouse."

"So, I can keep it. It's my card?"

"Yes, it's yours, but her name is Minnie," I insisted and so on until we agreed that it was not my mouse, her name is Enkhee, and the name of the character was Minnie.

Some other things I hadn't thought about were the sentiments on the cards and on the special edition Valentine's Kisses of "be mine", "I'm yours" and "I'm there for you", etc. They were really hard to translate because they're so corny and some of the meaning is lost, so I wasn't sure they really got the whole meaning, but they were appreciative nonetheless.

I learned that some Mongolians do celebrate Valentine's Day and almost everyone I talked to knew about it, but it's limited to a lover's evening sort of deal that some people celebrate with flowers and candy. It's not the forced, empty affection ritual we enjoyed as kids with little cards and chalky candies. Leslie and I personally didn't do anything special other than scarfing the chocolates with our friends and denting a huge bag of mixed nuts that also made its way into the care package.

Thanks to my mom for a fun little culture exchange.

Tripping Off to Tsetserleg; Getting More Than I Bargained For

While Leslie was in UB for an HIV/AIDS conference and watching the inauguration on TV last week, I spent 4 days in the province capital to our north. Tsetserleg for an inauguration party and some business-related things. We didn’t have the same media access, so we just celebrated with good American comfort food and each other's diasporadic company.

Tsetserleg is generally considered the most beautiful of the provincial capitals. The city of around 20,000+ residents enjoys tree-lined streets and a beautiful temple that you can see atop a small mountain. There are volcanoes and other geological fascinations in the province making it a destination for domestic and foreign tourists. Tsetserleg means "garden" in Mongolian.

Unfortunately, cars don't go there directly or regularly and there's no public transportation from Bayankhongor, and Peace Corps volunteers are not allowed to drive while serving. To get there, I was advised a couple times to take a bus 14 hours to UB (391 miles) and get a bus 10 hours (261 miles) back from there or take a bus half way then wait on the road in the below zeros for the UB to Tsetserleg bus. In the hitchhiking scenario, I would pay the same as the trip from UB, but cut off much of the time. Patient as I am neither were options I was willing to consider just to go 145 miles north-northeast (about the same distance from Bowling Green to Xenia, OH or Philadelphia, P.A. to Washington, D.C.).

Thanks to http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Map_mn_arkhangai_aimag.png
for the map.

Instead, I got some help from an English teacher friend of mine to hire a car and driver. Tsetserleg also means "kindergarten" in Mongolian, so there was a little communication problem at first as he thought I wanted a taxi to go 100 feet. After we got that straighten out, we went to the market and announced our need over the loudspeaker where messages are constantly streaming much like an auctioneer’s speedy, monotone cadence. Two brothers answered the call and we met at my friend’s restaurant to discuss a price. I negotiated pretty toughly and the price we ended on was even much lower than the buses if a couple of us went together, so to offset the costs, I got some other guys to join me. One guy was already in Bayankhongor traveling during his week off so it was an easy sell. He went to Tsetserleg with our bearded sitemate Peder and I, but found his own way home from there.

In the States, this direct trip would be about 2-and-a-half hours in decent traffic. Needless to say, it took a little longer and the road was less traveled.

Tuesday morning we headed out on our adventure in a old Russian Jeep, a GAZ 69 or what sounds like "Jar in use" in Mongolian, the number 69. These cars are cherished for their simplicity, which makes them easily fixable, but they do have a tendency to break down frequently requiring lots of fixing.

The older of the brothers driver, Ganbold, checks under the hood while Brandon and I stretch our legs and pose for Peder's camera. Brandon was already in Bayankhongor and joined us on a whim. He only went one way on the this trip then made his way back another way.

The younger of the two drivers, Altangerel, fills up the radiator. It was a two man job keeping our Russian jeep going up these mountains. In the background, notice the "Ovoo", or sacred mound of rocks with the branch sticking up adorned by a blue scarf called a "hadag." Always pass on the left, and if you have time and/or someone's looking, circle it three times for good fortune: 1 for your ancestors, 1 for yourself, and one for your future generations.

During our trip over the roughest terrain possible, crossing (mostly frozen) streams, up mountains, through rocks, in the snow with no hardly more than a suggested path than a road, our only major obstacle was a leaky radiator that our drivers were able to keep sufficiently filled. There wasn’t much heat toward the back so my feet were a little cold, but nothing to complain about. We moved at a labored but consistent pace, never stopping longer than to fill up with water and pee and get back on the road. We did stop one time for about 30 mins to help some loggers traverse a wide river, whose efforts were futile.

Our drivers and the loggers look for the best place to cross the heavy truck loaded with wood. They did what they could, but the truck became stuck and we had things to do so we left the loggers to fend for themselves.

After 8 hours of punishing travel in the middle of nowhere, we got in at dinner time Tuesday for hamburgers, French fries, onion rings, coleslaw, cold Coca Cola and hot homemade apple pie a la mode. The dinner was pretty good. We've made better in beautiful Bayankhongor, the undisputed culinary capital of Mongolia as far as Peace Corps volunteers go, but it was fun to share in the joviality with Americans and their good American fare. The three of us who showed up late were on dishes duty.



For the next few days we hung out, ate pot pie and tacos, went dancing, attended an aerobics class and wandered around the town in the frigid -30s. Like Bayankhongor, it’s nestled among some mountains, but unlike our fair provincial capital, Tsetserleg doesn’t have coal or coal smog. What they do have are trees and tourism dollars making it a little more Westernized and modern. They even have a couple traffic lights, which weren't on. It’s quite a fine city and I enjoyed being there.


After three days there, with one left to go as per our agreement with the drivers, one of them showed up with a buddy at my friend’s apartment requesting to leave right then. If fact, the one guy who I’d negotiated with and who knew our agreement well, simply said, “Okay, let’s go.” I was completely baffled and explained to him that we would be leaving in the morning because I had things I was still doing. After a minute or two he calmly agreed and sat quietly on the couch with the other guy. It was a little awkward.

The custom for the host when someone visits your home in Mongolia is to offer them something to drink, usually Mongolian milk tea if you have it, and candy of some sort, usually aarul (hard, dried sour yogurt) if you have it, but hard candy or chocolates will do. I've never been to someone's house where this did not happen. Thinking that's why they were still sitting there, my friend offered them coffee and candy, which they quickly ate and drank in virtual silence. I tried talking to them, but I couldn’t understand them well. It sounded to me like they were asking me for more money. Feeling weird about the whole thing, I called my Mongolian friend, who’s a translator, to help me talk to them.

I was correct. She told me the driver said that since they’d been in Tsetserleg they’d lost 25 liters of gas and that I would have to pay for it or else we couldn’t get home. On my behalf, she explained to them that their stupidity was not my problem and I wasn’t paying them anything more than I owed. We both thought the whole thing was totally bizarre and agreed they probably lost 25 liters of vodka since coming to town, not gas. In the end, they agreed to leave at 8 a.m. the next morning and quietly left.

After an evening of tacos and dancing at a trul posh, newly renovated club, my traveling companion Peder and I were foolishly packed and ready to go with shoes on at 8 a.m. for the the trip back to beautiful Bayankhongor in the 69. Not surprisingly, we didn’t leave then. It's not uncommon for Mongolians to be a half an hour late so we waited. When I called them at 9, they said the car had frozen overnight and they would be there after they built a fire under it and got it started. Figuring we had some time, Peder went to the store and bought some fixings for breakfast. We made hard boiled eggs and toast, napped and left around 11:30.

Apparently to offset the costs of their lost “gas”, the one driver picked up a few extra passengers for the way home, which was fine with me since I’d told them it would be OK to have other people in the car with us. There was only one driver at this point, which gave us more room, so it worked out. When we got in, my lanky buddy Peder hopped in the front with his knees to the dash, and I hopped in the back where I had ample leg room next to an older woman in three younger women, one of whom was riding on a lap. We were packed in, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Just when I thought we were as full as we were going to get, from the side of the road on the outskirts of town, we picked up the other driver and the other friend who I’d met the day before in the false start attempt to get out of town. And then a half hour later we picked up an incredibly old man who sat nestled beside me in the center of the jeep. If you had your fingers ready to keep track, that’s 4 women and 6 men for a grand total of all your fingers worth of people in the tiny jeep. The woman who was on my lap was a young math teacher in her early 20s and small, with an accommodating seat of her own. I didn’t really mind the ride for the first few hours.

Despite the late start and the crowded conditions, Peder and I were having a good time. About two hours into the trip, we stopped a random ger in the middle of nowhere for a break. As per the custom, they offered us some milk tea and aarul and we went on our way. An hour later we did the same, this time at a beautiful spot overlooking a deep valley.

We stopped for a break and climbed up this hill to enjoy some milk tea with a herder family whose ger was just behind me. We didn't take any pictures of the gers or the families because we didn't feel it was appropriate.

An hour after that we stopped again. Since it was getting dark and near our 4-hour mark and midway point, I figured we wouldn’t stop again. With that in mind, I drank as much tea as was offered and ate some bortsog (tasty fried bread) expecting that to hold me over until we got back home. The drivers talked for a while with the ger family and the rest of us sat in mostly quiet except for polite platitudes. Satisfied for the remaining half of the trip, I crammed snuggly back into the jeep enjoying the most authentic, warming Mongolian experience one could ever have.

Then 20 minutes later we stopped again. Now, at 5 o’clock, the trip was losing its romance and I was beginning to lose my patience for all the stopping. People were expecting us back at 8 and we were still at least 4 hours away. Politely we drank our tea. The three young teachers were becoming restless, and we were all sleepy. Peder and I and the teachers sat on a bed and drifted in and out of consciousness. One girl took them up on the offer to lay down right about the time the lady of the household started chopping at a kilo of frozen meat. For the next twenty minutes she used a clever to hack off little shards of meat and collected them on the cutting board as she chatted. I turned to Peder, annoyed, and we agreed it sure looked like we were staying for dinner. We shared a laugh about how we thought the last ger would have been our last. Several older men wondered in, seemingly from nowhere, rolled and smoked cigarettes and enjoyed their milk tea and conversation.

As 6 o’clock rolled around, the teacher to my right asked about the time in a little bit of a huff and rolled her eyes. 15 minutes later she did the same. It was obvious to us about this time that our drivers actually knew our hosts and they continued to talk and have a good time while the rest of us sat silently observing.

7 o’clock came and went, and we continued to drink tea and guess what we might be having for dinner. It looked like soup: meat and water and some vegetables. Then she added some oil, and then some more. It probably wasn’t soup.

Mongolian stoves sit in the center of the round ger and have a round hole cut about two-and-a-half feet wide in the top, which is usually covered by a flat peice of metal with a handle. When they cook, they open the top and place a cast iron wok in the whole directly over the flames. They make everything this way, including tea.

At 7:30, I still wasn’t hungry after the bortsog and liters of tea I’d drowned myself in by this point, but we were treated to a tasty, but noticeably oily, rice dish with some little chucks of meat and root vegetables, a pretty common catch-all dinner here. Eagerly waited to leave despite the kind gesture from our hosts, I ate my portion and pocketed some fatty gristle to offload later.

I asked one of the girls if she was ready to go yet, and she affirmed her exhaustion with a pitiful head nod to the affirmative and a sigh. I asked why we were still there and she said she didn’t know either, but she was tired and ready to be home.

Soon after that, the old men of the ger and our older driver pulled out paper and seriously discussed something, which went on for about 20 minutes. Things got tense for a few minutes, but resolved. Then from a cold cabinet in the back of the ger emerged a bottle of vodka. As per custom, they offered it around the room starting with the men, oldest to youngest, then the woman, who politely refused their offering by lightly touching the glass to their lips and returning to the pourer. It was obvious then that the reason our drivers agreed to take us was so they could conduct this business on our way home.

Thankfully, we made it through the bottle pretty quickly. Certainly we were ready to go now. It was already past 8, the time we were supposed to have been back. As the second bottle came out of the cabinet, the three young teachers groaned their disbelief with us in chorus.

Bottle number two made its rounds. Luckily there were about 15 people in the ger, so it would be a quick ordeal, I thought. But every time it reached the second oldest man, instead of drinking it and keeping the rotation going, he would set it down and continue talking or rolling a cigarette or ignore if for no reason, and only one of the women was drinking. Telepathically, I tried to will him to pick up the glass and drink. My eyes focused on the tiny shot and drew a line from its place on the floor to his face. My patience had run out.

Finally, at a little after 9, the driver stood up and said, “Okay, let’s go.” We left the old lady there, so we rearranged the car a little. The old man in the back went to the front seat with the small driver and Peder rode between the seats on a wooden box. I still had a woman on my lap, but the other ladies got a chance to spread out a little bit.

The rest of the ride was a blur of pain in my leg from my lap passenger and frozen feet. Because there was only heat on the windshield, every other surface in the car had frost and ice on it. Where I was, I couldn’t see anything, so as we shook and weaved and banged around in the dark, I could only see the driver’s head in front of me and a little sliver ahead of us where the headlights hit the dirt and snow. At one point we lost the road for a while, which the driver eventually found it by driving wide swaths back and forth through the valley.

We were about an hour outside of Bayankhongor approaching a small village around 2:30 a.m. when we regained cell phone service when my phone started receiving text messages in sequence from Leslie (who was in UB), my site mates, the volunteers from Tsetserleg we’d left in the morning, my friend who had helped hire the driver and the Peace Corps safety and security officer. Thankfully there’s no voicemail in Mongolia or I would have had some of those too. As quickly as I could, I called or texted everyone to let them know we were still fine.

We stopped in the village and offloaded the old man, but picked up another woman and a baby.
By 3:30, Peder and I labored into my apartment, recounted our crazy trip, contacted the safety and security officer and crashed for the night.

As far as 8 hour car rides that turn into 14 hours, it could have been worse. We didn’t break down once, we got to see some beautiful countryside, we met some interesting people, and we had the most authentic Mongolian experience anyone could ever have just short of actually being Mongolian. We left late, we sat ten people in a car meant for five, we stopped at random countryside gers for generous hospitality accompanied by tea and aarul, and we sat around while two bottles vodka sealed a business deal.

All and all, I wouldn’t say I’d love to do it again anytime soon, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

We Wish You a Happy New Year and a Happy New Year

We've been trying to figure out why there are Christmas trees and lights and "Jingle Bells" and George Micheal's "Last Christmas" playing non-stop wherever we go, but not only is there no Christ in Christmas, there's no Christmas in Christmas. All the fuss around here is about New Years or "Shin Jil". I've had the sneaking feeling this is a Russian thing - since most of the 20th century, Mongolia was closely aligned with Moscow.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, I brought it up over lunch with a Russian/English teacher last week. I asked him and his wife how long Mongolians had been celebrating New Year's. They agreed that they began celebrating this way when they were in the first grade. They're 54 now, so it's been about 48 years or so by their reckoning.

He explained that since Mongolia had such close ties to Russia, they gladly picked up these fun cultural things and celebrated them as their own. They giddily recounted their childhood plays and dances where she always played a dancing "Winter Girl", and one year he was "Grandfather Winter", complete with a big sack of presents, white beard and red outfit.

So, my suspicions were confirmed - it is a Russian thing. But why do the Russians not celebrate Christmas? Why does New Year's look so much like Christmas?

The answer lies in the Communist era with the Soviet suppression of religion and non-state oriented celebrations. According to this site:

"Before 1917, Christmas was celebrated in Russia in much the same way as it was in the rest of the world: on December 25, with Christmas trees and Christmas gifts, Saint Nicholas and the like. During the years of Communism after 1917, all formerly Christmas traditions were transferred to New Year's Eve, which became the traditional winter holiday. New Year's Eve is now to Russians what Christmas is to most people in the rest of the world, with one exception: there is no remnant of Christianity in the holiday. New Year's Eve is simply a chance to celebrate, to bring in the new year and get rid of the old. It is a chance to exchange gifts, have a day off and enjoy oneself."

The Mongolians (and Most Russians) continue to celebrate on the 31st of January, and from what we've heard, it's not the raucous debauchery many of us enjoy in the States, but a family affair just like we might recognize as Christmas. So, when your kids ask how Santa Claus can get all the way around the world in one night, you might tell them he does half the world, takes a week off to restock, and then does the other half around New Year's.

As a staff we'll celebrate together during the week of New Year's, but my work celebrated "Shin Jil" last week with many of our clients. There was dancing, singing, and ceremonial presentations of certificates announcing the year's "best ofs".

All the ladies were decked out in their Shil Jil outfits and the table was stocked with buuz, huushuur, fruits, champagne, vodka and soft drinks.

The Mongolian Waltz is something different than the waltz we know. It involves lots of tight spins and can be done to all kinds of music, not just the 3-4 "oohmp-pop-pop" waltz music we're used to.

My counterpart making some last minute adjustments to the decorations using a makeshift ladder.

Here's a small Shin Jil tree drenched in decorations inside the city government building, complete with official hand-carved government seals in the background. Shin Jil trees are usually pretty small like this.

Whenever you celebrate it, we wish you and yours a Happy New Year!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Le Merry Christmas Eve

A quick Christmas Eve breakdown, mostly in photos!


What did you do for Christmas Eve?

Really? Well, we spent it with French Veterinarians in Mongolia.
Actually, French vets and their 2 adorable children!

Lawrence made us a very yummy chicken and mushroom dinner on our sad little Russian oven.

Chef du jour, Lawrence! Notice the empty bottle of wine in the corner that his wife Catherine is holding.

The light in our family room burnt out today. Our landlord said it will be fixed tomorrow. Therefore, we all ate standing up in the kitchen, using the washing machine as a table.

Solidad and Titoua and their makeshift dinner table.

The food was amazing! Leslie made double chocolate chip cookies that were quickly finished by Solidad and Titoua! They had Leslie running secret missions to the kitchen to keep them in cookies and coca cola without their mother knowing until nearly midnight.

We attempted to find a movie with French subtitles to no avail. We ended up watching Ratatoille. It was a great choice! Titoua has an infectious laugh and he kept pointing at the screen every time he laughed with complete glee. It was hysterical and adorable!

Watching Ratatoille by Christmas light.

As they left Nathan asked the Roffet/Gaillard family to pose like Mongolians. Everyone hit the mark except for Solidad. She just couldn't keep from smiling!

Keep your eyes peeled for a special Christmas post!
Merry Christmas Eve!

Thanksgiving

It's been a while since our last post because we were traveling, experiencing our duel Thanksgivings. Our apolgies.

Our Thanksgiving afternoon began with a short Skype conversation with Nathan's friends and family as everyone gathered on their end for Thanksgiving Eve. Soon after, we were driven to the Bayankhongor airport by Nathan's colleague, who stayed around to see us off. We had about a 40 min wait during which we gave her the short and dirty on the first Thanksgiving and what is means today. She knew a lot about it already, so it wasn't a hard sell.

Then we hopped the afternoon flight to for 1 hour and 5 mins of comfort. The drive would have taken anywhere from 13-24 hours we've been warned, so we were extra thankful we were able to fly - especially on Peace Corps' dime. Due to required Peace Corps training, we could come into UB, work with our organization for a while, and then stick around for training with our counterparts.

Our walk to the flight. Bayankhongor Airport

The drive from the UB airport to Darren & Laura's apartment. Almost as long as the flight with UB traffic.

We ended up have 2 Thankgivings, really. The first one, we celebrating with a small group on that on that Thursday at a Thai restaurant, then jaunted over to the Grand Khaan Irish Pub to meet up with everyone else who was in town.

Thanksgiving - Round One (Thai food on ACTUAL Thanksgiving Day)

Went to the Grand Khaan for some after dinner fun with everyone who had gathered in town for the big weekend.

Then for the main event on Saturday with the ambassador, complete with turkeys he flew in for us and all the trimmings provided by Peace Corps staff and volunteers.

Nathan doing his official duties as "Turkey Carver."

Dylan and Yoomie presenting their turkey. And yes, Yoomie gave it an orange rind bow.

An example of a Peace Corps Volunteer Thanksgiving plate. There's always a fear it's a terrbile joke and the food will be taken away so you must stock up at first!

The appetizer table. Notice the famed "Bucket O' Salad" brought to you by Cady Sinnwell & Emily Holekamp.

Many were shocked by the occurance of traditional mongolian food (hosuure) at the Thanksgiving meal. Thankfully, when you bit into the hosuure you discovered not mutton but curried potatoes!

The beginning of the dessert table. PCVs feared a lack of desserts. Eventually, the table was stacked 5 desserts high (specifically cake boxes).

Determined to add class to the event our Ambassador brought nice pumpkins and a table runner! Thanks, Ambassador Minton!

Fed and watered and ready for the couch.

Evan & Nathan attempting to breath after devouring the Thanksgiving cornucopia!

Sure, your Thanksgiving was nice, but did it involve Dennis Rodman?

PCVs are grateful for this amazing meal! Here's our Country Director, Jim Carl, being presented with a felt painting (Thanksgiving 2008, in Mongolian script along the side.)

Special thanks to Darren & Laura (the other married couple in our training year) who allowed us to stay at their apartment over the holiday. They have a lovely faculty apartment with a fold out couch and cable TV! Pretty impressive! We slept like babies and watched Daddy Day Camp because beggars can't be choosers!

It was a great time, but tiring.

Note Darren & Garrett's reaction to the long few days!

It was a great time with friends and great food! Though we missed our families and friends, it was a thoughtfully planned event and went off without a hitch! Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers for us over the holiday!