Some of my faithful readers are worried. I haven't posted since early January. Others couldn't care less. The main reason for my lack of posts is that very little of note has occurred for close to two months. Oh, there've been parties, and they were nice. I've watched some interesting movies. Played some indoor soccer with the crew, scored a few goals. You know, whatever. But is that worth writing about? Now, now. Save your sarcasm for another blog.
Shortly after our frigid hike with the Calligraphers Association of Mongolia I was honored to attend an exhibition of their work at a local gallery. As I'm sure y'all are aware by now, Mongolian script fascinates me. This was some of the best examples I've seen yet. Check the pix below. I was wearing my del whilst walking about the gallery, which attracted the attention of a rather inebriated man. Though drunken, and only able to speak very little English I gathered that he was a friend of one of the artists and quite proud of the fact. He was stoked to see an American wearing traditional Mongolian clothing and insisted I drain a cup of wine with him and the artist. He then pulled me into a photo with the artist and his family. I felt awkward. I guess it's better than getting mugged. Earlier that day a huge skin-headed Mongolian drove past me in a dark car wearing sunglasses and talking on a cell phone. Without breaking his ice cold expression he gave me a thumbs up, presumably in response to my sick threads. Yeah. Two points for the del suckas!
We were blessed this month with a traditional holiday, which afforded us a couple of days off. Tsaagan Sar! or "White Moon" the Mongolian new year. A time for greeting relatives and eating buedz (my spelling, unofficial) a sort of meat dumpling. I failed to get invited to any Mongolian homes this year so I elected to take plan B, which was go to Jason's. He had stayed up the night before constructing buedz with his girlfriend Nara so a feast ensued. I was stoked to find calamata olives at the market and made a greek salad to share. It went down well. I noticed a shiny object in one of my dumplings which turned out to a be a coin (American quarter.) This means I am granted one lucky year to be cashed in this year only. I can't say this luck has yet manifested but considering all the unlucky things that could happen perhaps I should be counting my blessings. David ate one that he described as spicy, which of course was the unlucky buedz. However, to the best of my knowledge his luck hasn't been any better or worse than mine so far. I suspect that I've been duped.
On a sad note, one of my mates was unceremoniously dumped on Tsaagan Sar, which coincidently fell on Valentine's day this year. Not one to mope he decided to be proactive about it and organized a boys night out at Amrita, a night club with an identity problem. I had heard of this place, the word on the street was fire breathing contortionist strippers. I was intrigued. We arrived early and were forced to pay an exorbitant 8,000 Toogs (about $5.50) The interior was a bizarre ride indeed. Giant fish swam in an aquarium/bar. An astronaut stood placidly next to crudely carved sculptures of savage women squeezing their breasts suggestively. There was a stage equipped with a three story stripper pole. Quite the concept bar. Most of the night was filled with lame trance music and drunk fat people trying to dance and be sexy. The only redeeming quality was the professional dancers that slid down the lengthy pole and teased us with their flexible bodies.
...Then came the half time show. The dance floor was cleared in anticipation. A trifecta of lovely Mongol ladies in Indian Saris descended the stairs. The club was filled with the intoxicating vibrations of Bhangra beats. Slowly, the sultry sylphs seductively stripped their garments down to the barest of legality. Finally some exposed breasts, just what the doctor ordered. This dazzling display was followed by a duo of contortionists who bent themselves into the most mind bending of poses, all with a smile. How about dem apples? Then the lights fell and someone busted out the black light. Two more contortionists, clad in glowing skeleton costumes, appeared and performed an exquisite number complete with some boogie-woogie, knaw-mein? I, a lover of anatomy, was duly impressed. Finally the circus man closed down the show. He breathed some fire, swallowed a sword, laid his back down on some shards of glass, yada yada yada. Nothing can one up the boogie down bones crew. The night peaked with that show so we shambled out at 3am and made for home.
Flash forward...A level 2 class/intelligent students/very talkative/moving rapidly through the material. They invite me out to dinner. We go to a place called Altai Barbeque, a bistro that boasts authentically crafted Mongolian food. The seats are tacky both literally and figuratively, garishly hued linoleum. Brilliantly lit buffet line clashes remarkably with the odd placed geir and Chinggis statue. A foreboding ram skull adorns an otherwise cheery entrance. Several guests receive birthday cakes as chipmunk "Happy Birthday" blasts over the PA. Mongolian Kitch McDonald's from hell. I've been here before as a guest of appreciative students. Despite the appalling atmosphere the food is off the hook. This style has become popular in certain niche locations (like, I dunno, malls in California) so you may have encountered it before, dear reader. If not, allow me to offer you the benefit of the doubt. You have a buffet line with various meats, vegetables, spices and sauces available for your consumption. Fill your bowl with these raw ingredients and pass it to the chef who grills your meal on a giant round, flat "shield" of a grill. Momentarily your meal is finished. Voila! Mongolian barbeque. My students kept insisting that I eat and drink more, telling me that I'm skinny and therefore unhealthy. I will never be able to conquer the Mongolian appetite, but then again my diet affords a longer life expectancy so nyeah! One of my students, a classy young lady, was eating her meal Korean style. She would pack food onto a piece of lettuce, roll it up like a burrito, and then jam that sucker into her mouth until her cheeks appeared ready to burst! I took pictures to prove this phenomenon.
On a sadder note one of our colleagues has had to abort his contract with Santis prematurely. A series of unfortunate events landed him in the hospital for a week. He has recovered and is very much alive but it has been decided that Mongolia can't accomodate his health needs so he has made his leave. He never had the chance to see much else of Mongolia other than UB so in a show of support a small group of us took him out to a few sights. It was very cold. Alas, D.A., we hardly knew thee. ;(
