Swine Flu Blues: Stand Fast

We took most of October off to be in the States for Nathan's brother's wedding, which ended in a marriage to the lovely Elizabeth Carr, so it seems the trip was a success.

We've been back in Mongolia for a few weeks now after a ridiculous trip home that involved lost luggage, missed flights, an extra day in Chicago and an extra day in Beijing. We made a lot of lemonade from those lemons, but it was an expensive and bittersweet drink. Thanks to Larry Chamberlain, Patriarch Extraordinaire, for his willingness to help us make the best of it, and to Catherine Kruszka, Esq., for finding a place to watch the Phillies, going out of her way to help us recover our luggage, and for giving up her bed.

Unfortunately, now that we're back, the schools in Mongolia have been closed and the country is at a virtual standstill because of the H1N1 virus. At around 8-900, the number of confirmed cases is relatively low, but the per capita infection rate for Mongolia, which has less than 3 million people, is kind of high. No school, no travel, and other types of gathering places like bars, discos, and seminars have also been shut down. For Peace Corps, the official response is to "Stand Fast."

Classes will now also be canceled for the next 2 weeks during this 14 Days of Alert. In other parts of the country, especially around UB and the other 2 bigger cities on the train line, there has been a more rapid spread of the virus, but in our area, 385 miles and 12-20 hours from the all that, we only have 3 reported cases. If nothing else, it would seem that this shutdown may have helped combat the spread for now, but the jury is still out on that. We have a long, long winter yet to traverse before the final verdict is reached.

Peace Corps Washington is requiring that all volunteers be immunized, but with the transportation shut-down, we won't be getting those for a while. We're waiting on a final word from the Peace Corps Mongolia medical staff as to when those will be given. We have a pleasant Thanksgiving planned here in Bayankhongor and we're not looking to travel again quite so soon, so we're hoping there won't be a mandatory trip to UB during that time. We'd prefer to hop a plane ride to the city in time to go to Cambodia in mid December. But we also don't want to get sick.

Here's to standing fast! Whoosh!

Long Time Gone: Trading the countryside for urbane Ulaanbaatar

It was a long month in UB, but we're back in Bayankhongor now. Though we got a lot done while we were away and enjoyed lots of great food, fun company, and regular hot showers, it has been so good to be home.

Leslie
The initial purpose of our trip to Ulaanbaatar was for me to lead several trainings on music therapy, specifically for social workers and social work students. I was asked in January to create a training for social workers with Save the Children. It was very successful, greatly due to my Peace Corps CYD director, Enkhee, who has social work degrees from the U.S. and is capable of maneuvering the complicated subject of music therapy from the English language to Mongolian. At the Save the Children workshop, I was asked to return for a follow-up with the social workers and also to present a 20 hour workshop with the seniors at the Mongolian State University of Education Social Work program.
Though only one of those workshops worked out, due to scheduling issues with the Save the Children social workers, I was able to have a successful week with the students at the university!

Enkhee spent a couple mornings translating for the first workshop, but it was impossible to get her away for 20 hours with the students. Thanks to a previous volunteer, we met a remarkable woman named Tuul Sukhbaatar! Sukhbaatar means Axe Hero! (and the same guy the town we trained in and the Square in UB is named after) in Mongolian. You can imagine how hard core that makes her! I was lucky that she was willing to take her vacation time to help me out. Much like working with Enhkee, it was really easy to work with someone I adore so much.

*Note: Tuul will be starting her masters degree in conservation in the United States this fall! This, of course, means that I will connecting her with many of you! She's a blast! I'm glad she'll still be there when we are finished in Mongolia!

I did my best to make it an extremely experiential week for the students, so Tuul and I worked with the social work students on lyric analysis, musical biographies, song re-creations, and music relaxation. The students lead several experiences during the week! The next week Enkhee told me that when she met with the students they were very excited to share with her all they had learned.

The next step I would like to do on this project is to re-create similar workshops throughout the country, since training in the countryside (not UB) does not happen as often. In addition, a fellow PCV, Julia, would like to lead some experiences on drama therapy. Currently, the Center Against Violence has expressed an interest in our workshop for the social workers that work at the Women's Shelters in the provincial capitals!

If you want to know more about how music therapy may work in Mongolia check out Voices in May. Voices, the online World Forum for Music Therapy, has agreed to make Mongolia the country of the month in May. I will be writing the article on the history of music here and how, though there are no creative arts therapists in Mongolia it is primed for use of creative arts in therapy and social work. I'm thrilled for my first published article.














Nathan
While Leslie was doing her seminars, I was working on an internet project for my NGO, which is about half way done, but we need a lot of translation into English before it goes up. I can't wait to unveil it when it's done.

In the interest of setting up some sort of micro-financing partnership, I met with a guy from www.kiva.org. They have access to money and a partnership with a bank my NGO has already partnered with to give out micro loans, but they don't have a lot of vetted candidates to loan to. We have a ton of suitable recipients with no access to money. It seems we should be able to work something out. Lots of hoops to jump through first. We're hoping we'll be able to get Brother-in-law Stephen's Kiva credits our way.

Originally, I was only supposed to be in town for about three days while Leslie stayed to work. By the time we got back into UB from visiting our host families for Tsagaan Sar, though, we had both been pretty sick for almost two weeks. We got some antibiotics that didn't do the whole job, then I got some chest x-rays to rule TB, then we were both put back on another, longer round of antibiotics, which seem to have done the job. Also, because of the unexpectedly long stay, I only had about three outfits, so my clothes took a beating.

I was around a little longer than planned, but serendipitously, I was working for my NGO at the UB headquarters during a time when they were having some big discussions about an EU grant, and I eventually helped write parts of it. They kept me in town for an extra 10 days to help see it through. We're just in the beginning of the vetting process, so if it materializes, I'll elaborate on it more then, but potentially, it would invest in infrastructure and technical skills training for rural arts and peer-to-peer life skills education using Leslie's children's theater over three years. Leslie and I both had a lot of input, so fingers crossed for it to make it to the next stage. My programs director and country director at ADRA (a married Australian couple) are a real whizzes at the writing and planning, so even if it doesn't materialize, I at least got a lot out of the process.

I also found out that I was chosen to do training for the incoming volunteers. We'll be expecting them in 2 months, which surprisingly means we've been here 10 full months now. It will take me out of site again for 4-5 weeks during the summer and a weekend of training in May. No definite word on Leslie yet, but we both feel it's a done deal that she'll be training as well, as per her director Enkhee's recommendation. There have been a ton of budget cuts forcing the training to be much different than we experienced, so we're wondering how its all going to go down.

We grabbed some urban-themed photos from UB. These are mostly taken around Sukhbaatar Square, what may be considered the center of town. You can see the difference between UB and our countryside Bayankhongor, namely the big buildings and lots of cars. You might see in one shot that someone hates Chinese people enough to graffiti it in English. (My money is on Zero, the online handle of my buddy John. John, there are better ways.) You might also see there's a wall with the Beatles on it in front of a billboard advertising fresh milk. Imagine.



























A Night at the Opera
On Saturday night went to the opera to see Tosca. We brushed up on the story beforehand on the internet, though the programs (in English and Mongolian) had the same synopsis. Most of the arias were in Italian (except for one male lead who sang only in Mongolian) and the recitative was in Mongolian (except for the female lead, who sang only in Italian), though it was kind of hard to tell the difference. 1 of the male leads was just so awful it was nearly incomprehensible, but the other male lead and the female lead held their own. The costuming was beautiful and had a Mongolian flair to it especially in the sacristan's robe, which was was worn more like cinched and bloused Mongolian deel at the waist than a hanging monks' robe. The same guy wore a bald
cap and a big prostetic nose. It was a hoot.
The star of the night was the opera house itself. It reminded us of Stuart's Opera House in Nelsonville, Ohio where we've performed. It was a quaint, small auditorium with about 400 seats and the interior was adorned with beautiful colors, traditional Mongolian designs, and charming lighting. The performers weren't amplified at all, and it was a treat to hear the pure voices with the orchestra, which sadly was often too heavy and/or out of tune, owing many troubles to the low brass and clarinet. Even still, the seats were cheap at 8,000MNT ($5.33) and we got our money's worth.






































The last month flew right off the calendar, and there's no letting up for now. As fun as our time was, it was not a vacation. After the hiatus from a comfortable bed and the 14 hour, punishing bus ride home, we are worn out. Also, even with per diem and help from Nathan's father, UB has so many good options for food and entertainment that our pockets are pretty bare. It should be a lean month ahead.

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.

Time Is On My Side...

One of my tasks is to teach English to my co-workers 4 days a week and this is my first week. My manager especially needs to learn English because he needs to be able to write grants. No pressure.

Most of my colleagues know at least a little bit of English and have had some sort of formal class as some time or other, but none can speak in complete sentences yet. Think high school Spanish or French. You learn the letters, numbers, some words, and some key phrases of introduction and salutation, but you don’t really know anything past that. So, this week we breezed through introductions and we’re into time.

Time in Mongolia exists much differently than it does in the States. Time is VERY relative, especially when you have a group meeting together. When you set a meeting time, you can bet that means a half hour later than the actual time and it’s no sweat at all. Our friend Bill and my brother Kevin would get along well here. Some reasons we’ve been told and experienced are that often times, it takes so long to travel that people even lose track of the day. Also, because travel is so communal, you’re beholden to the schedules and detours of a whole car load of people, not just yourself. And because everyone knows that a meeting time relative, they plan accordingly. No one wants to be the first one there waiting.

Really, as long as they show up on that day, it’s pretty good. During training, we were set to present a business plan to a small cooperative and we’d confirmed the date a few times. When we showed up, they weren’t there because they thought that date was a Sunday, not a Thursday. We rescheduled and it worked out fine the second time as if nothing had been amiss.

Another time, on our first full day in Bayankhongor, we were told that we would be picked up to go to the countryside at 4 p.m. for dinner. We went to the meeting place at our friend’s ger about ten minutes early and waited; drank some tea; took a long nap; waited; ate; drank some more tea. We were debating whether we wanted to even go or not because Leslie wasn’t feeling well, and we were still dead tired from sleeping on floors and beds like floors for the past week. But we knew they had put a lot of energy into the evening already, so we new we could tough it out for a few hours. At 6:30 they finally showed up. We were worried we wouldn’t have enough light left to make and eat dinner, but everyone was taking their time, so we were just going with the flow. We figured some people were already there with dinner ready for us. As we were waiting for someone else to get into the car around 7:15, we found out we weren’t coming back until Sunday!

I think normally, this wouldn’t be a huge deal, but since our luggage couldn’t fit on the plane, we only had some books, minor toiletries, and the clothes on our back – and we’d been in those for the last 4 days already. Since the next flight into Bayankhongor wasn’t until Sunday evening either, at least we weren’t going to miss our luggage. Though, in an unintentional add of insult to injury, they told us to grab something warm because it was going to be cold out there. We swung home so Leslie could pick up contact solution and we could get our toothbrushes. I was in a pair of jeans, a dress shirt and my suit jacket, which seemed like a good outfit for an hour and twenty minute plane ride 28 hours ago. All Leslie had was a T-shirt, jeans and our friend’s sweatshirt.

The city of Bayankhonger is pretty small, so we thought by “countryside”, they meant at the most a thirty minute drive, similar to our host families’ gatherings. When we got to the “countryside” three hours later over terrain straight from an SUV advertisement with shallow streams and worn dirt roads, it turned out to be a children’s summer camp associated with one of Leslie’s jobs that would later be filled with adults celebrating the end of the summer. As stepped out of the warm car into the pitch black, it was absolutely freezing. We climbed into bed under a mountain of blankets at around 10:30 and quickly went to sleep.

At 12:30, the women came into the room the three of us were sharing and asked us if we wanted to eat the soup they were holding. We all told them no thanks, but it turns out they weren’t asking, they were telling. I received my bowl, ate as much as I could and dove back under the covers. Leslie’s stomach was clearly not in the mood to eat whatever they were bringing, and we think she may have picked up a little food poisoning from something she ate earlier. Whatever the cause, she was up the rest of the night heaving over the balcony.

The next few days were refreshingly pleasant in the clear air and sunshine. We were in a deep valley between to strips of peaked, yet rolling treeless mountains vaguely covered by a mixture course grass and dusty soil. We saw some of the most gorgeous landscapes, I hiked up a mountain with our friend, saw my first herd of yaks, we played ping pong and basketball and lounged around, and we got to bond with some new folks in our community with no schedule at all. Saturday night, we even sang for them at their season closing ceremony and put our dance classes to good use on the Mongolian waltz. On Sunday, they told us we would get back around three so we could go shopping for food and then pick up our luggage, which we thought meant we’d be leaving right after lunch. Instead, we had another horhog meal where they slaughtered a goat for us and cooked it with the hot rocks just like our host families did when we left.

So, tired but fed, we got back into town after everything had closed and in just enough time to go home for an hour to relax before we were picked up to grab our bags at the airport. But for some reason, even though the flight wasn’t coming in until almost 10, we were there at 8:30. You just never can tell.

Borderline

As we were studying in Nathan’s room last Sunday afternoon, Nathan’s host parents said to be ready to leave in 30 minutes! We’re going to the border!

So, Nathan’s host parents, his 28 y/o host brother, 25 y/o host sister, and 4 y/o host sister and we mounted into their Huyndai for a 25 minute trek to the Russian border for a picnic. Packed with mutton, rice soup, boiled potatoes and carrots, beer, soda, and dishes, we showed our special permit to the armed guards and walked up to the magnificent park overlooking the Selenge River and the border.

Nathan’s family and us pause lunch for some cheesing. Front row: Begsuren, Leslie, Nathan, Bulgaa. Second row: Orangoo, Davaasuren. Third Row: Anu.

In the background is Russia. In the foreground is us in Mongolia with us in it.

There is actually a buffer zone between the countries here, so while we approached the guards at the Mongolian border gate, the actual border is at least a kilometer up the road.

Russian border with guard tower: On our way down from a wonderful lunch at the Border.

The trip back was a bumpy good time.

In Other News
In other news, we got a bunch of GREAT mail this week. Nathan got a care package with goodies for his host family and him, complete with lovely note from his mother. Oldest brother Ryan’s letters continue to arrive in much appreciated fashion. Nathan continues to love his Batman, self sealing envelopes and the sentiments.

Leslie finally got the package her parents sent at the beginning of June with candles, books, shoes, nuts, etc. We were starting to wonder. She also got a nice letter from her mom with some priceless niece and nephew photos.

We also got an awesome postcard from friends Zach and Amy from their trip to Colorado, which made Leslie’s week. It was also a good conversation starter with some folks from General Denver’s old stomping grounds.

We also lost a trainee this week, one of Leslie’s crew who had to go home for family reasons. Leslie misses her a lot, hopes everything turns out well, and hopes she’ll be able to return Mongolia. Erica, you’re missed, but thanks for leaving the baby wipes.

It was a long week full of frustrations, heat and mild sickness, but we keep getting positive feedback on our progress and assurances that we, in particular, are going to love our placements. Only a couple more weeks of training to go.

The Bear Necessities

Water
According to the information the Peace Corps gave us, as of 2004, only 62% of Mongolians have access to safe drinking water, though where we are - notwithstanding the known microscopic concerns including parasites and bacteria and that the water is pretty hard with dissolved minerals - the water itself seems pretty clean and debris-free.

To ensure our water is safe, Peace Corps gave each volunteer an electric water distiller, which heats the untreated water into vapor and then drips it out through a charcoal filter into a collection basin. It is by far, the cleanest water anyone could ever hope to drink anywhere on the planet, ever in the history of time. After the water is cooked, the inside of the distiller shows exactly how hard the water is as a dried film coats the metal walls and the bottom is layered with a slimy white film. A simple vinegar solution cleans it right up.

As a backup, if the power should be out for an extended period of time and we were unable to distill water or boil it on a stove, our medical kits come stocked with iodine tablets.

Water in our villages comes either from a well on a family’s property, which is free (like Leslie’s host family) or it is sold from a little metered station resembling a wooden kiosk with a hose out the side. Water is usually pretty centrally located and retrieved using a rubber-sealed metal container that holds about 5 gallons (by quick estimation), which is wheeled back on forth from the depot on a useful two-wheeled dolly. The upside is that it’s still rather inexpensive, about ₮2/liter ($.oo17), and the downside is that no matter where you are in the countryside, you have to fetch it. The downhill part is where Nathan’s water is, and the uphill part is where Nathan lives.

For many reasons including money and access limitations and probably other historical and cultural reasons, Mongolians tend to be very frugal with their water and typically only need to get it every few days. Not only do they bathe and launder much less frequently than Americans, (though we’ve noticed that they don’t tend to get funky/smelly like we do after a few days), they also wash hands, dishes, faces, etc. using a ubiquitous gravity reservoir. It’s a small but thick metal bucket mounted above nearly every sink in the countryside that holds a gallon of water or less, and it has a weighted metal rod hanging down through the center bottom. When you need water, you just push the rod up into the reservoir and the water runs out on demand. Drop your hand back down and the metal rod plugs the hole with a rubber seal. It’s simple but genius.

Since there is no running water into the house, there is also no water running out either. Each house in the countryside has a bucket for collecting the waste water under the sink. When it’s full, the bucket is taken outside and either dumped into a gravel/sand sump (rare), tossed in a specific corner of the property or tossed outside the property in the road. After some recent flash flooding, the runoff was a little frothy, probably due to wastewater like this. City apartments have running water with Western style sanitation.

Despite the disposal concerns, Mongolians, overall, use far fewer detergents and much less water than Americans do, and they try to get the most out of them before tossing them out. For instance, when many families do their laundry in the tumpun (small basin we’ve mentioned a couple times before), they wash at least their feet and sometimes more in the somewhat-soapy rinse water before throwing it out. Unfortunately, the downside of using fewer detergents, though, is the lack of soap when washing dishes. They tend to only use water, which has made many of us more than a little nervous about how “clean” they actually get.

Food
From what we can tell, the Mongolian diet where we are is primarily made up of about 5 different ingredients prepared differently, and which are almost always really delicious, including: meat (usually beef or mutton), eggs, bread/noodles, potatoes, and rice. They also sprinkle in some cabbage, carrots, jam, butter and ketchup. In fact, whether it’s a nice dry meat and noodle dish with potatoes, a beef soup with potatoes, cabbage, carrots and noodles, or a steamed wonton filled with meat and potatoes over a plate of rice, Mongolians love to put ketchup on it. Nathan’s middle brother Kevin would probably get along quite nicely here, though he might be disturbed to find out that their ketchup would ever be confused for good ol’ Heinz 57. It’s more like a Hunt’s 23.5, but it gets the job done when you need that little something extra.

The noticeable lack of nutritional diversity hasn’t worn us down yet since every meal has been so tasty up until now, but we can certainly see why volunteers seem to get a little bored. Once we’re on our own, we can diversify a little more and current and former volunteers have compiled a cookbook for us to use, so we’re pretty excited to see what we can get into.

We’ve learned, though, that the budget will be tighter and tighter as food prices continue to rise, even after they have apparently tripled in the last three years. Since most vegetables are imported and are already expensive, this raises a concern for us. Some current volunteers expressed their problems putting together what they consider to be a nutritional diet using the stagnant Peace Corps monthly allowance that has remained the same since 1996 in Mongolia despite high annual inflation rates here and a weaker dollar.

One volunteer reported that last year a loaf of bread was ₮200 and now it’s ₮700. That’s quite a jump. Many volunteers spend money out of their own pockets each month to make ends meet, but since we don’t have that luxury, we’re hoping the recent evaluation being conducted by Peace Corps will yield enough in extra living allowance to cover that gap.

Potty
Before we got here, we read and heard that there were no seats in the outhouses here. And while that’s 99% true for most trainees here in the countryside, we didn’t expect that there would be no place to sit either. Outhouses here are not like the ones in the States for that reason. In most, there is just a board missing from the slatted floor or triangles cut into the floor, perhaps for a little ambiance. That has taken a little getting used to, but our thighs are the better for it. TP (the standard issue stuff is pretty grainy by American standards) goes in the bin inside the outhouse. Like almost all trash here, it’s burned.

Apartment buildings have Russian-style toilets in them, but even those take some getting used to because the waste material sits on a little plateau just under the depositor. When the plunger is pulled straight up through a hole in the center of the tank , water sweeps down carrying the waste to the front of the toilet, then away to who knows where. TP goes in the bin next to the commode.

Transportation
Gas is about $4 a gallon here, but the cost of living and income is far less than we enjoy in the States, even by those far under the poverty line. We don’t know how much a car is here, but we haven’t seen any new ones or any place to buy them either. Most cars tend to be either compact Hyundai or Toyota sedans, SUVs tend to be old Russian jeeps or tall Toyota Landrovers, and they have large minivan-looking vehicles (“meekers”) with three rows of benches. No matter what you’re cruising in, you are most likely to be packed and stacked as much as the vehicle can allow. A small sedan holds 1-2 in the front and 3-5 in the back. A meeker holds 14 somewhat comfortably and 20 or more routinely.

With no public transportation, low automobile ownership rates, and no apparent laws governing it, if you have a car, you’re a taxi driver. And you probably make OK money. Each short ride (within a few miles) to our villages from the city center is between ₮300-₮500 ($.25-$.45) so if you pack a car, you’ve more than made up the gas. And since you already own the car, there’s no insurance, and you don’t pay taxes on those wages, you just got cash money in your pocket. Good job buying that car.

Culturally, drivers are quite powerful and have the final say on all travel plans, pricing and routes to destinations. Pricing on longer trips are more flexible, and foreigners heavily subsidize the locals. Recently, two trainees with the help of a host mother who is a driver, were only able to get a driver down to ₮20,000 ($17.25) for a 45 minute ride he was charging Mongolians ₮5,000 ($4.30) for. There doesn’t seem to be any specific anger or animosity in it, they just expect that we pay more because they think we can afford it, even though we make less than most Mongolians.

Being a passenger in Mongolia (volunteers are prohibited from driving during service) may be one of the most foreign things about the experience so far. There is only one decent, paved road here and it runs a few hundred miles from Sukhbaatar in North Central Mongolia, south to the capital, Ulan Bator. And even though it’s the best road, it’s still not that great, and mostly resembles a round-top country road in the Midwest. Outside of that, some city streets are paved, and many are full of pot holes, and where they aren’t paved, they tend to be riddled with potholes or have been washed out by heavy rains. Because of this, each driver is compelled to navigate a perceived perfect path, weaving back and forth across the road to ensure he has chosen the route containing what he feels is the least amount of potholes. They drive wildly from side to side, regardless of “lane” or oncoming traffic. If the road is smoother on the left side, they casually play chicken until another car is within about 10-15 yards from their front bumper before returning to the right side. It is a fine, crafted, nerve-wracking art to witness.

Ironically, even though there is next to no adherence to lanes here, we did see a road crew crouched on the good road this weekend using buckets and brushes to paint the center line.

We’ve heard that the U.S. government, through an aid program, just awarded Mongolia a special grant for something like $330mil to help build roads and railways here. Hopefully that doesn’t mean Mongolia will be unveiling a shiny new set of white train tracks any time soon.

Money
About 1,160 Mongolian National Tugrik (MNT or ₮) = 1 USD. All money has the same portrait of Genghis Khan (or as they call him, “Chingiss Khang”, but what do they know), though the bills are different colors and the smallest bills, the 100 and 50 are physically smaller than the 500, 1, 5, 10 and 20,000 denominations.

There are no coins, though slang still refers to money as “silver”.

The exchange rate at banks is better depending on the size of the USD, so if you exchange a $100 bill, you get a better rate than if you exchange 5 $20 bills. We don’t really know why, but we’re not so worried about it since we don’t have any Ben Franklins anyway.
Inflation is high, about 15% per year we’re told.

There is no tipping in Mongolia, but no one is in a hurry to give you your change if don’t ask for it either. For that reason, having correct change is usually the way to go. If you wait too long before insisting on change, you have forfeited your claim to it as one trainee recently discovered in a bar.

The bank loan system seems to work more like credit cards in the U.S. Loans are granted on short terms with monthly compounded interest of about 3.5%. Most loans are due within a year and if they’re not honored, Mongolia still maintains a debtor’s prison. Most people don’t have much collateral, so loans tend to be somewhat tough to come by, but we have heard of folks taking out loans to by cell phones. Needless to say, they’re not big savers. In that regard, they seem pretty well in tune with America.

Health Care
One thing we can count on being exactly as billed is the medical attention. We each received a medical kit stocked with anything one might need including Benadryl, Pepto, antibiotics, disposable thermometers and Ace bandages. From bug spray to sunscreen and band-aids to condoms, they’ve got us covered.

The Ulan Bator hospital is the best in the country, though they still don’t have much in the way of specialists or trauma care. So, if we have anything seriously wrong with us, they’ll stabilize us and put us on a plane to Thailand, where they do have anything we could ever need. One guy broke his arm last year and spent some time there with the Peace Corps medical team. Apparently it’s nice in Bangkok, at least comparatively speaking, because some refer to as the “Posh” Corps. We hope to make it there some time to see for ourselves, though hopefully not because of any medical emergency.

If we’re hurt in a remote location, they have access to planes and helicopters to get us out.
We get a dental checkup once a year, but if we have a problem, we’ll get immediate attention.

For mental health, there is a peer support system made up of individuals who agree to lend an ear. All calls used on Peace Corps cell phones (each volunteer gets one after swearing in in August) can be billed through the medical office and if in-country travel is necessary to help prevent a meltdown or some other such catastrophe, the medical office will pay for that too.

Next blog
Leslie had a great week at an orphanage doing a practicum with the other youth development trainees and Naadam is this week. Stay tuned...

A Heart Full of Love

Nathan Here.

I just found out that my dad had open heart surgery on Friday, but that he is recovering well and in typical great spirits. He voted not to tell me, but my brothers and mother out-voted him, so I got an email from my mom with all the latest that was the latest, then much appreciated updates from middle brother Kevin. Leslie got to the internet cafe before I did, so I didn't get too blind-sided by it.

He went in for a routine physical, the first since he was forced to before we went to scouting's Mecca, Philmont a mere 15 years ago. They ran all the tests and found a couple blockages in the back of his heart, so Friday they cracked him open through his chest, took some arteries from his leg and patched him. We're all looking for a great recovery. Glad he took a great first step in quitting smoking this year. Score two points for my dad. Glad he dodged a big bullet.

It's been a brutal week for hearts from what I hear too, what with George Carlin AND Tim Russert biting it and both from heart-related disasters. I am so glad that I can't count my dad among that unfortunate group of gentlemen.

It was also a brutal weekend for my outhouse. I was in it a lot ridding myself of some food poisoning. All better now... for now.

And if you've sent us anything, none of us has gotten any yet. Sorry. I guess no one has come up from the capital city yet with it. Apparently, we may not actually get it for another week. I hope that's not the case and I hope what you sent made it.

Looking forward to talking to my brother Kevin my tonight/his morning.

Nathan