Mongolia 2002

We went back to Korea in 2002 to see Korea in depth. Our first trip was for the wedding and we were so fascinated by the country we wanted to go back and see more. While those letters of our Korea touring have been lost, we also went to Mongolia and those are posted here. The letters run top down, I think:-)

The land of the neon light

Greetings from the land of the neon lights. I had forgotten just how enamored the Koreans are with neon signs. Here in Wonju where we have been for the last week with Jeff and Anjin we are surrounded by brilliant reds, greens, yellows, and blues. Nothing like covering all the primary colors:-) It's a wondrously bright environment. Of course it helps that we're staying in the middle of the club area again. Bars, nightclubs, "entertainment" clubs abound in the area and it is always interesting to see the activities, both late night and early morning, because these people definitely know how to party. The hotel we're staying in is clean, cheap, and nicely appointed. It is also a hub of activity, for those who wish to partake and remain somewhat anonymous. There are curtains on the garage, so that you can't see the cars or license plates of those staying overnight, but cabs are the usual mode of transportation. The other morning we shared the elevator with a couple, he was mid to late 40's, she middle to early 30's. When the reached the street, they shook hands, he got into the first cab, and she waited for the next one. After all, men always are first here. Each floor of the hotel has a video tape collection for use in the rooms which have a tv/vcr. The tapes range from mild to strong, but each and all with strong sexual content. For those who do not wish to venture down the hall, the hotel has it's own "adult" channel, free of course for guests:-) The whole scene makes for interesting obsevation. When I go out for my coffee at around 6 in the morning, the cabs circle like vultures over a potential kill, waiting for the participants to emerge and take transportation to safer ground. We again are enjoying Anjin's family. The grandchild, Sae Hoon, is now four and full of himself and life. Anjin's brother has remarried and when I asked jeff what her name was, he didn't know. When I asked him the name of the Brother he didn't know that either. I looked at him strangly, and he said that nobody calls anybody by their name, only by their title. For example, Jeff is the oldest of the children and spouses, but since Anjin is the youngest, he has to call her Brother, "older brother." And although Anjin is older than her brother's wife, since the brother is older, she has to call her "Big Sister." When we were at dinner last night, we had a big plate of crab which was in front of me. While it is customary for everybody to eat from the same big dish, food is often passed around. So I passed the Crab legs. Except, leave it to Jim to screw it up, I offer the brother the first leg, his wife the next one,(they were the closest) and then the mother and last the father. Well, it should have been: father, mother, brother, and sister-in-law, last.Protocol is VERY important. Of course, being a foreigner, and also being the eldest of the group, they cut me a lot of slack. Yesterday was Buddha's birthday, 4576 I think, and we went to a big temple where there were thousands of people celebrating. The monks were selling tiles for the new roof at $10 apiece where you could write a request for a blessing from buddha. Naturally, I couldn't miss an opportunity for any help I could get, so we listed all our family names and Ang's child in waiting. So I think we're all covered. We proceeded on to the East Sea, for God's sake, don't ever call it the Sea of Japan, for dinner. A Korean proverb refers to Korea as the shrimp amongst the whales. Considering the history of invasion and occupation by their neighbor's that's fairly apt. Dinner was all kinds of raw fish. You go downstairs to one of dozens of fish stalls where the fish are all alive and swimming in tanks. You pick out your fish, they kill and cut it for you and you take it upstairs. I have no idea what it was we were eating. some of it rather good, some of it rather chewy, some it rather distasteful:-) Carol does better than I do. I'm not about to even attempt the sea urchins or the anemones. This is also the land of the cell phone. Everybody is plugged in. The phones are of a size to comfuse you as to whether it is a Zippo lighter or a business card carrier, and everybody talks all the time. Anjin was in our car yesterday and her mom was in the car ahead of us, but multiple conversations took place during the drive, about a variety of topics, some important, some just trivial. On my coffee walk in the morning, I see the same faces in the shops each day since most everybody works a six day week. They had a big strike here recently with the labor unions campaigning for a five day week. The girl in the convenience store where I get my morning jolt works seven days a week. Jeff said her family probably owns the shop and sure enough, that turned out to be the case. She works midnight to ten a.m. each day, seven days a week. But she said she is very strong. She looks like she could crumble easily, but she must be very tough, mentally. It is rice planting season and the country is covered by machine which are affectionately referred to as "One eyed water buffaloes." They have mechanized the planting process, which should save millions of backs and spines. The old, typical picture of the stoop-backed the elderly Korean is so true, since these people did the back-wrenching chore of planting each plant for decades, and it just ruined their back. We stopped to film one of the plantings on our drive here upon arrival, and the man insisted that we come in and have coffee. It was just a gesture of thanks that we took the time and interest to watch and film. He didn't want his picture taken, which was a shame since it was a wonderful face, full of history. It is the beginning of the rainy season now,late summer will be hot and humid, and that will continue till monsoon season comes, then it will be the long winter, bitterly cold. April and May are nice they tell me:-) Tonight we go to Mongolia and will be there for two weeks. We have no idea of what to expect, but it will be interesting and informative, I'm sure. We're told we'll have email access there, so hopefully, we'll be able to update you as to our progress. We've been here for just under a week, and I know that things will jump out at me that I didn't include here in this first missive, so there's more to come. Hope all is well with each of you. We do think of you often, well, sometimes at least:-) Take care, and we'll be home soon, till them, we are and still will be Carol and Jim

What, no Mongolian beef?

Hello, from the land of the eternal vistas:
Yes that's right, if you want Mongolian beef, don't come to Mongolia, to to some Chinese restaurant in the states, cause you won't get it here. You'll get beef, but not that spicy schwezan (sp) style. But that's about all you'll not have.
Everything is wonderful here and we're having a great time. What a great choice for visiting!!!
We arrived on the MIAT (maybe I'll arrive tomorrow) flight and indeed we did arrive the next day, but only because we were 10 minutes late and landed just after midnight. We were immediately introduced to what is referred to as the "Mongolian Shuffle," the pushing and shoving which occurs at any place where more than one person wants to occupy the same space at the same time as you. As soon as the plane hit the tarmac, people were out of their seats, getting their carry-ons down and heading for the exit. We decided to wait till the crush was over, a wise move indeed. Our hotel is as modern as any one could need. Mints on the pillows, cable TV with espn (I watched a Giants game) cartoon network and MTV, amongst the Russian, Italian, Korean, Japanese and BBC channels. Not to mention toothbrushes, shampoo and other amenities.
We left the next morning for the countryside and it was an immediate cultural and time warp - bouncing back and forth from the 20th century to the past and back again as the miles slowly passed underfoot. On our journey we had paved roads, a novelty for Mongolia, and our eyes continued to be riveted on the unique sights of Central Asia: Whirlwinds kicking up clouds of dust across the steppe, herds of animals ( horses, goats, sheep, yak, camels), broken down vehicles of all flavors littering the roadway, women carrying gunny sacks picking up dried dung for fuel, and herders herding their flocks from foot, horseback, or motorcycle.
The only thing that was consistent was the vistas, the seemingly eternal and unending. I've never seen a place where you could see for so far for so long a time. As we journeyed, we say families repairing the roads, with various degrees of success. The government pays families to maintain 15 km's of road. This provides income and hence is the Mongolian equivalent to Caltrans.
We have stayed in the Ger (pronounced gair) camps for our time outside of Ulaan Baatar and they have been wonderful surprises. They are called yurts outside of Mongolia, but that's a Russian word for these portable homes made of felt and canvas which are amazingly comfortable. You can always orient yourself because the doors always face south, and upon entering the men head west (left) and the women east (right). They have had electricity for lights inside the individual gers for recharging camcorder batteries and there is always a pot of hot water there upon arrival for tea. The camps have had flush toilets and hot showers in a central building, and by limiting liquid intake just before dinner like mom used to do to us when we were kids, and eliminating everything possible just before bedtime, you can have a cozy, comfortable, warm night's sleep with minimal distress, even for old bladders like ours:-)
The book said that there would be a dearth of veggies, mostly mutton and so constipation was more of a problem than diarrhea, but we have been very pleased with the food, good tasting and wholesome, we haven't had any physical "difficulties" of any flavor. One camp even had a mini fridge in the gers. There are usually about 20 individual gers but since we're really ahead of the tourist season, in two of the three we've been the only ones in camp.
We hit the road for the second day and this was the only downer of the trip so far. The tour company only allowed one day to get from Kharkhorin to Dalanzadgad in the Gobi, and we had to adjust the time schedule because as it was it took two days of very slow (5-35 mph) driving 8 hours each day to get there. That meant that we had to drop our day with the Cashmere goat herders, one of our main purposes of coming. We'll have more time up north where we are to spend time with the yak herders, so hopefully that will work out. It was disappointing, but given the "pick your poison" potholes and dirt tracks across the terrain, it was the only decision to be made.
There are no "roads" as we would know them. There are tracks which have been used, but those are just general indications of direction and off you head pointing to some far distanced point of reference.
Our guide, Anya, and our driver, Bulga are both competent, informative, and fun to be with. Stories, jokes and information made the 8 hour drives each day more palatable. And of course, how could one not be enamored by the wondrously brilliant sky and vistas of central Mongolia.
We had to stop for gas on the way, and Anya and Bulga somehow found this little settlement in the middle of nowhere and we stopped and pumped gas. Pumping gas in Mongolia is literally that. There is a hand crank by which a pump is turned and a meter counts how many liters have flowed. Gas is amazingly cheap here. We paid $5 a gallon in Korea, but here it's the same price as home, about $1.40 a gallon, and it has to come in from Russia. Motorcycles are the motorized vehicle of choice, being cheaper and with better efficiency, but even those are few and far between. On our two day journey south we passed one car and two motorcycles.
You see family gers dotting the countryside and it is a rare point in time where you don't see some herd/flock of animals somewhere in your line of sight. With 2.5 million people and 25% of them in UB and 34 million animals you can see that there's a lot of land for a few people, less than 1 person per square mile in the whole country, and certainly less than that in the countryside. Mongolia is the most sparsely populated country in the world.
The people are warm, friendly, and hardworking. Courageous is a word that we heard from US Army personnel here setting up civil defense and medical centers in the hinterland. But the kids are something special. They would melt any heart. Full of laughter and bright faces and full of curiosity. It has been fun to film them and then show them their pictures on the camcorder. Their delighted sequels make such a simple thing seem so worthwhile.
Well, I've so much more to say, but we leave here in a half an hour so I've got to get back to the hotel when Anya and Bulga pick us up.
Time wise if you go back 8 hours and think of it as tomorrow, you'll know where we are. For example, it's 8 p.m. Saturday in Cal, then it's noon Sunday here.
Hope all is well at home. I’ve even been able to use the internet to finish off some client work from the office. Cool, huh. The best of all worlds.
We'll be back here in a couple of days, I'll try to write more.
Love to all,
C & J

The ger

The ger is the housing of preference for the vast majority of Mongolians,
whether in the countryside or in the city, most Mongolians live in this combination of wood, canvas, and felt.
Even in the Capital, Ulan Bator, 61 percent of the 700K inhabitants live in gers. In the countryside, the percentage is much higher.
In cities and small towns, gers are often located within wooden or tin fencing, because during the 70 years of Soviet control, the citizens were required to have a physical address in order to receive public amenities like electricity or mail. However, it was unsuccessful, since the Mongolians would just pack up their ger and move out into the countryside as was their nomadic tradition. You can always find clusters of them in any town, but you will also find them scattered individually in the midst of modern permanent buildings. In Ulan Bator it is not unusual to find one sitting at the base of a modern high rise hotel or office building.
Out on the vast stretches of the steppes, the ger can be found individually or in family groupings. One is seldom out of sight of a ger somewhere on the horizon.
Prior to the 1800’s gers were either built on huge wooden frames with huge wheels or lifted upon them when it came time for these nomadic people to move their herds to new grazing land.
With modern materials available to the people and with the commercial production of the gers, the portable ger was developed and is now the standard.
They are easily movable, relatively inexpensive, warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and amazingly strong in the face of Mongolian storms and the high winds which sweep across the steppes of this Central Asian land.
There are always traditions which govern the establishment of the ger. Doors always faces south, for example. This maximizes the sunlight into the ger, since there are no windows in the ger.
Women enter to the right, Eastward, and all “Women’s” tools, (dishes, cooking pots, food storage, tea flasks, etc) are on that side of the ger. Whereas the men enter to the left, the west and all his traditional tools, saddles, rifles, and things of this ilk are kept on this side.
Decorations in the ger are usually bright colors – oranges and reds being very popular, and the chests containing clothes and the family valuables ( photos, books, and Buddhist artifacts) are to the north or the back of the ger.
The beds are located in the respective areas and men and women do not sleep together.
The stove is located in the center of the ger with the stovepipe exiting the ger at the top. This stove is used both for cooking and heating. It is not unusual for them to use dried horse dung for their heat since the treeless steppes are devoid of other fuel.
When approaching a ger, one does not say “Hello” but rather “Get your dog” since almost all Mongolians on the steppe have guard dogs, not to protect against people but predators which would otherwise attack their flocks.
If you accidently brush your leg against someone or kick them while stepping over them in the limited space of the ger, you don’t say “Sorry” but instead you shake their hand.
Usually you will be offered Yak milk tea which is prepared, not with sugar, but with salt, since there is little natural salt in the diet.
They are amazingly comfortable. Beds tend to be on the hard side with felt padding below and woven blankets for warmth, but even the most affluent Mongolians will live in gers for part of the year. It’s their heritage and part of their national makeup.

Why the bees buzz

In the ancient days, the chief of the birds, Hangard, sent another bird, a swift, and a bee from Mongolia to travel the world and discover what type of meat tasted the best. The swift had been helped by humans who fed it when it was hungry and provided protection when needed, so he was a friend to the humans. The bee didn't like humans at all since they took the flowers from which he liked to draw nectar and pollen. So when they were returning to Mongolia, the bee said that he had discovered that human meat tasted the best. This alarmed the swift who wanted to protect the humans, so he asked the bee to stick out his tongue and thereupon plucked the tongue out of the mouth of the bee. When they returned to Hangard, he asked the bee what tasted best and all the bee could say was "buzzz, buzz, buzzzzzzzz." Hangard was appalled at this and asked the swift what tasted best, and he said the snake. So to this day on Mongolian pennants you can see a bird with a snake in its talons and the only thing you get from the bee is: "buzzzzzzzz, buzz, along with an occasional sting. Lets's talk about airplane travel in Mongolia. It's a trip, pun intended:-) Carol's tickets were in the wrong name, since her passport name and the name she goes by, are different. No problem, since Anya checked us in at the MIAT counter while Carol read and I did my crosswords. We never even went to the counter except to put our bags on the scale. Once on the plane, you may if you choose, buckle up, if not, that's okay too. The seat belt may, or may not, work anyway. If you need to use the bathroom on takeoff, hey, no problem, it's your life. Seat trays and seats do not have to be stored in the "Upright and locked" position, nor do carry ons have to be stored in the overhead bins. They can set anywhere they will fit. When the plane took off, people were walking in the aisles or in the bathrooms. Airstrips may, or may not, be concrete. Grass and gravel make good alternatives. Airport security Indeed. Regular screening equipment exists in Ulan Bataar, but in the other airports, they simply ask you: "do you have any knives?" If yes, then just give it to them, if not, you go on through. No metal detectors. Hey, don't knock it. It works. I cannot say enough about the spectacle of seeing Mongolian horsemen riding across the steppes. They absolutely look like they and the horse are one. It's a magnificent sight. No wonder the sight of Genghis Khan and his cavalry struck terror into the hearts and minds of citizenry and soldier alike. They conquered such vast stretches of territory from the China Seas to Europe that still today, their empire was the largest even known to man. Not the Romans, the Greeks, the British nor anybody else, (go ahead, pick one) can match the vast stretches of land. It is absolutely thrilling to see them riding, trotting, or galloping across the land, singly or in groups. It's simply awe inspiring. Driving in UB is always an adventure. You simply use what Jeff refers to as my: "Candlestick, post 49er game", driving tactics. You just assume that the other driver is a lot more concerned about his safety and his car than you are and you can get out of the parking lot a lot faster than those who don't. Five lanes of traffic merging from different streets into two lanes can be trying, but all is done with a minimum of crushed fenders or cursing. If you have a lot of bravado, or if your car is older and in worse condition than the other trying to squeeze in the same spot, you'll usually be all right. If you have both, you're a shoo in. Buses, taxis and buses the rulers of the roads. On the other hand, pedestrians are on their own. It's not like Brazil where the cars will actively change lanes and take a bead on you to make you run faster, but close. With stop lights being infrequent occurrences, and pedestrian crossings simply ignored for right of way, pedestrians go from one lane of traffic from the left at a time until you reach the thin white center divider and then you do the same with cars coming from the right. Parents take their kids firmly in hand and everybody seems to understand the rules and make it safely to the other side. It’s obviously part of required parental training for their kids. Lanes do not always correspond to the direction of travel. If you are driving in the countryside and the road is smoother on the left, then that's where you drive. You won't see many oncoming cars, but if you do, the oncoming driver has the option of driving further to the left (hey, there's hundreds of miles of unbroken ground in any direction) or driving on the right side of the road. Bulga was taking us to the airport and since he needed to turn left into the airport, rather than waiting for the traffic to clear, he just pulled into the oncoming lane, the oncoming cars were forced up on the sidewalk to go by, and then he completed his turn. The most surprising thing to this uninitiated westerner, is that nobody gets upset. No cursing, no fingers stuck out of the window, no shootings, and no angry looks. Like I said, if everybody understands the rules, then there's no problem. In all our time in UB we saw only one fender bender between a bus and a Mercedes. We've traveled in many places together, but neither Carol nor I can think of a place where history and traditional cultures and modern cultures come side by side so much of the time. It is just common and everyday to see a man in traditional long jacket with knee high riding boots walking side by side with a woman in knee high skirt, high heels, silk stockings and a face that is as cosmetically fashionable as in any capital of the world: Where old men sit in the park for hours playing Dam (a checkers variation) while their grandkids sit next to them talking of their cell phones: Where a high-rise hotel with ESPN and the cartoon channel sits next to a ger with a family barely holding its own at the poverty line: where Toyota Rav4's rev their motor at a stop light next to a Soviet Army van (still the best vehicle for the countryside). And like so much of Mongolia, it works well. We are so impressed with the people here. They move so easily. Just like those horsemen. They are a country in transition, but one where the baby is not tossed out with the bathwater. The old is cherished by all generations and the new is seen as simply the way things are going. No bitterness or recriminations in either direction. Anya tells us that the latest survey showed that 61% of the 700,000 people in UB still live in gers. The percentage is much higher in the countryside, of course. The ger camps we have stayed in have been great. Only one had pit toilets and no showers. The food has been hot, hearty, and tasty. Someone comes in each night and lights the fire for you in the center of the ger, and while they do not hold their heat, someone come in about 6 in the morning and lights the fire again, so that when you get up it's warm. Certainly goes against the norm to have a strange rumbling around your bedroom before you get up, but we've never locked the gers and have never had anything taken or felt unsafe. They are wonderful experiences. Even the one ger camp that did not have the most modern facilities was still fine and made a nice contrast to the comfy conditions of the others. In this occasion we drove to the camp with an additional guide since neither Anya nor Bulga had been there before. The guide was the niece of the camp owner, and she kept telling us to go this direction then that direction. We crossed streams where the water came up inside the van fully a full 8 inches on the step and nearly came across the floor. We bottomed out a couple of times and once were stuck in the middle of the 50 yard wide stream in a depth of two feet of water. Bulga went forward, then back, then forward, then back, and we were stuck for a full five minutes. Visions of fording by foot ran through our minds, but he eventually used all his skill and the power of those Soviet Army vans I mentioned earlier, and we freed ourselves. We traveled for hours looking for the camp. And finally Anya decided to take matters into her own hands and we asked directions from people in the local gers. They know everything in the area, it is their lives after all, and we had to retrace our steps. Anya was so angry. We must have crossed 25 streams in each direction, and a one hour trip took is 5 hours. But we eventually made it. Our beef jerky and granola bars came in handy:-) and when we got there we had a hot meal waiting for us. The next day we walked to the Princess Temple for a distance of 5 miles in each direction. We had the option of walking or riding in the yak cart. There was another group at the camp and a total of 12 of us traipsed across the country side. It was a beautiful and wonderful day at a slow pace seeing everything in sight rather than just whizzing by it in the car. Well, I'm only halfway into my list of things to write about, but we just got back to UB and a hot shower and dinner wait. So I'll try to write more before we sadly leave on Monday. This place is just captivating!!!!! Hope all is as well as we are, cause we're just great!!! love C & J Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: Click Here

don't I know that boy on the yak?

Our last/big adventure here in Mongolia was a wonderful experience all around. We visited a large 80 mile by 20 mile lake over 800 feet deep in the North central part of the country. Our hour flight on MIAT landed on a real concrete runway, and after waiting an hour for our luggage we began our four hour journey of 100 miles to the lake and the ger camp. As Kinky would say "the mail don't move to fast in Rapid City, South Dakota," and road trips here in Mongolia of whatever distance don't either. Now I don't want to say that it gets cold up there, but it was the 28th of May, and the whole lake, and I mean the whole lake, was still frozen over. You could see where the thaw was trying to start, but with minimal success. The edges would thaw out 5-10 feet at night, but by morning, would all be frozen over again. We came to this area to see and have the opportunity to talk to the yak people. MIAT flies only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so we had the full four days there. We were unpacking our luggage and had our map out on the bed. When the woman who whose family we were going to visit and do the yak thing, came in to light the fire that night she squealed something which of course we didn't understand, but she pointed to the map cover which had a picture of a boy about 8 years old riding a yak. She went out of the ger and brought Anya in and we discovered that the boy on the yak was her brother, and that was who we were going to visit the following day. She had never seen the picture herself, and was so thrilled to have it staring right out there at her. Now, how's that for coincidence? or Karma? or whatever? On our way there in the morning, we were brought to a halt by a yak who had just calved 30 minutes earlier, and the baby was still struggling to get its feet. We watched, talked, filmed, and were really happy at our timing. The family who owned the yak pulled the afterbirth, broke the sac and gave the liquid back to the yak and took the sac to be dried for use as stretchable rope. Nothing goes to waste around here. We finally got back on our way and found the family which was our original purpose. They all came out to greet us, grandma, the yak boy, now 22 is married and has a 3 month old son, other brothers, sisters, and assorted relatives. But the grandmother was the pick of the litter. She had one of those faces filled with so much character and history that they just had a thousand stories lining her face. She could have been 60 or 100. She had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, a traditional green calf-length coat with bright sash tying it at the waist, boots, and red-checked scarf tied around her head and hiding, somewhat, her grey hair. We brought cigarettes as presents, and since she smoked, we gave the pack to her, the accepted the gift in typical Mongolian fashion by putting both hands on it and placing them on her forehead as a gesture of thanks. We went into the ger and this was the first one that we had been in that was not a tourist camp one, but rather a real ger lived in by people. We had seen literally thousands of them as we plied our way down the various roads, but this lifting the curtain and seeing what went on behind the screen was special. In the center of the ger was the traditional stove, this one with a big circle cut out of the middle where a liquid was cooking in a big wok type kettle. From the color, it could have been for washing dishes, or a soup, or a dye for coloring cloth. She worked at the liquid for a while Carol's and my eyes just took in the whole scene surrounding us. We were directed to sit on one of the two beds, they were metal framed with springs on them with some kind of felt covering over a thin mattress. Grandma squatted at the fire, went to the cupboard brought out some liquid, poured it into the cooking mixture, dipped into it several times pouring it back into the pot from a height of about two feet. She did all this while squatting on her 6" high stool with her new American cigarette dangling from her lips dangerously close to the mixture. Some white powder went into the mixture, and now came the scary part, out came the bowls, a bunch of them since there were about 12 of us in the ger. The mixture was poured into a tea pot and as honored guests, we were served first. This was our initiation into Mongolian tea. It's a mixture of tea leaves, yak milk and salt. I won't say that I'll order it again at the local Mongolian barbeque, but it was drinkable. Bread was served that was quite good, and a dish pan sized bowl of steamed fish from the lake, heads, tails, and skins and all. They were broken into chunks and they looked like something we might throw out after getting all the good parts we wanted to eat. Carol, always the brave one, had some fish, I stayed with the tea and bread around the room was a cupboard with the bowls and dishes in it to the right of the doorway, of course, since all the kitchen utensils are on the woman's side of the ger. She had a silk scarf covering the cabinet to make it look cleaner. To the left of that was the other bed, and continuing counter clockwise were a kind of clothing chest with a radio playing music, battery operated since there's no electricity, a threefold photo frame containing all the family pictures - with maybe a couple dozen photos total. They formed a complete history of family. All the big events , Grandma's trip to UB, a picture probably 50 years old of the whole family with all the living parts of it at the time, and various photos of events which were cherished by them, but had only hidden meaning to us. The most surprising thing to me was that there was a battery operated clock ticking away with the correct time. This really gave me pause. I just considered that these people were totally unimpressed by time. They work hard from morning till night, there is no difference between Tuesday and Friday, and there's no giants game coming on in an hour, or dinner reservations to be kept, so why a Clock? Actually there was another smaller one just to the left, keeping perfectly good time and set to the exact minute as the one foot circular one. Carol's theory is that it is their show of affluence. Maybe a gift from one of the children. Who knows. These all sat on a chest which contained the clothes of all the family members, and anything else which needed to be kept out of the way. They don't wear much. Not drawers full of tee shirts or sweats. Just one 4 foot wide four drawer dresser for the whole family. Continuing around the room was a pile of pillows covered with colorful embroidery containing what, we know not. To the right of the bed and covered by another cloth was the bedding with which everybody covered themselves at night, and a covering to make it look more tidy. Then we got to the men's area just to the left of the doorway. Saddles reins, straps of various length, bridles and other equipment for riding. This was obviously the men's area. We sat there some time talking and the old lady showing Carol how she spun and braided the yak hair to make the straps we had already noticed and the various ropes which they used. Of course, nothing would do, but to give Carol some of the finished products off the wall. When it was time to leave, we gave her a magnifying glass we had brought. She was thrilled because now she could read the newspaper she occasionally got. (After which newspapers were used as cigarette papers) and we had brought packs of Crayola colored pens. We went back to the ger camp with our minds whirring about what our eyes had seen. We compared notes, each of us adding little details which the other might have missed. We were to have another day with them, but that's as they say: "Another Love to all, C & J

Final thoughts

Good Morning:
We’re “safely” Ensconced back in our sin city hotel in Wonju. I called my mother this morning to let her know we were safe and she advised me not to watch too many porn movies:-) Mom’s are always good for advice! I’m sitting here at Jeff’s computer with the laundry being done and getting ready for our week here in Korea , but Mongolia keeps rolling through my brain, so I thought I’d exorcise the demons by writing some final thoughts.
It’s more cultural shock coming back to Korea from Mongolia than it was coming here from home. I almost caused an accident this morning when I inadvertently stepped into the zebra crosswalk and cars came screaming to a halt in both directions. I have to remember that I’m not in UB anymore.
We probably saw more cars on the three hour journey here to Wonju from Seoul than were in all of Mongolia. We were speeding down the highway trying to keep up with Korean traffic at 75 MPH, whereas we never went above 50 in our two weeks in Mongolia. Big four-lane paved, smooth highways were quite the change from the dirt tracks of Mongolia. The mind does funny tricks when it tries to make sense of sudden changes. On our last day in Mongolia we sat in an outdoor café and watched as horsemen clopped past us on the sidewalks. Several times it happened, not just a onetime shot. We waited at a stop light and saw a herdsman bring a dozen or so cattle up the street, and unfortunately, the light changed before we got to see how he was going to get them across six lanes of UB traffic. That would have been interesting - and all this in a city of over half a million people. God only knows how many animals there are in the UB. We were always fascinated at how road savvy the animals were in the countryside. We honked and bounced our way past them, whizzing ever so close. Bulga never slowed down nor did the animals scatter in panic at having this behemoth bear down on them.
Carol and I went on a shopping binge the last two days in UB. Not as big as intense as the one that Melissa and I did in Dublin on our “Power Shopping” day but there were still lots of things to buy. We thought there would be a dearth of things we’d be interested in buying, but just the opposite was true. For example, we bought a dozen or so cashmere sweaters. They were incredibly cheap. The only person who didn’t get one was me because as my daughter says: “Anyone who doesn’t care whether his socks are turned inside out can’t wear cashmere. It’s a rule of the universe. ”
Special memories keep cropping up into our brains: For Carol the closeness of the people to their animals and the connection between them and the land made it a special place. For me, the old yak lady representing the old, traditional Mongolia, and Divaa representing the new, brings out the contrast of the country. But with the Buddhist thought inculcated in the society, both coexist in a harmonious way. There doesn’t seem to be any friction or conflict between the two ways. I found it unusual to see a society that blended the past, present and future so smoothly.
An interesting sidelight to Mongolian society was the fact that after 70 years of Soviet control, there are thousands of Russians who were born and raised in Mongolia and who know nothing of Russia. In many cases, the families have been here for several generations and other than family names and language, they have little in common with the native land.
In the Baltics it was a constant topic of conversation. On the TV, in the news, on people’s minds the Russian presence was a constant source of angst and irritation to the Balts. But it never came up in Mongolia. I asked Anya, whose very sweet mother was a KGB doctor, about it and she just shrugged. No problem, she said. Again, I think the Buddhist influence is a very tolerant one. The very nomadic spirit of the people, where most of the 2.5 million people can, and do, just pick up their ger and move, literally, to greener pastures has made for a people who have retained their independent spirit, and no foreign domination could ever affect that.
It’s funny how a country that I hadn’t even considered visiting has become such a special place. When we decided to go back to Korea and see Jeff and Anjin we tried to figure out where else we could go while we were there. Carol was quick to respond with her ever-present fiber mind at work: “Mongolia.” “Mongolia?” I foolishly asked. “Why Mongolia?” “To see the yaks,” she replied. How silly of me not to realize that something fiber related would be top priority. Like going to Alaska in December to see the musk ox, fiber is never far from the top of her list.
Anyway, this place has become really special to both of us, but to me even more so because it was such a bonus in my life. Just another thing I would have missed out on if Carol wasn’t part of my life. Or if Jeff had married someone else. It’s always the unexpected treats that work their way into your heart.
The country is just a magnificent place to visit. Incredibly wide vistas and that ever present blue sky. They do call it: “The land of the blue sky.” You can often see for hundreds of miles off into the distance. No smog here in the countryside. The people are amazingly friendly, always ready with a smile and an open heart. It was wonderful to be a part of it. I do hope that we can return someday.
We went to Anya’s mothers’ house the last night in UB. Traditional Mongolian hospitality was offered. Vodka, Buutz (Mongolian dim sum) and plates and plates of food offered to the guests who she had just met, and who had just finished a big dinner. No matter, that’s Mongolian hospitality. Just like in the countryside, a guest is an honored event. Strangers appearing a ger will always be offered food and drink. It just reinforces my firmly held belief that the all around the world, the people who have the least are the most willing to share what they have, whereas in the west, we try to keep what we have and gather more than they need. The herders who have all their earthly possessions, other than their animals, in a 12 foot circular home can be so content with their lives while home shopping networks continue to make the mind feel that we need more and more of everything. My life has so much clutter in it why am I so unwilling to part with it?
There’s very little I would change about our trip. It was time to come back to Jeff and Anjin, but still difficult to leave such a magical place. Maybe the knowledge of how difficult it would be to get back weighed into that. We went to a folk show the last night and there was a woman there who was doing her fourth trip to Mongolia. She had a group of students with her. Maybe I’ll harass Carol into organizing a fiber trip for adventurous people so I can come back myself.
Back here in Korea, there are a lot of things to do before venturing off. Mundane travel things need to be attended . Laundry needs to be done, money has to be changed, get more film, mail the key back to Mongolia since I walked off with it. It’s time get my head back to where I am, not where I was. But for now my heart will remain with the people and places which so affected my thought processes. Mongolia has become part of who I am, and how I think about my life. A statement I could say about every place I have visited, I suppose, but not to this extent.
I know that my mind will continue to drift back there, even as new stimuli enter the brain. Even as I try to close off this letter, the vision of being down in the Gobi and seeing a huge cluster of animals off the road which we drove over to see. There were a couple of hundred goats crowded around a water trough where men pumped water from a well the government had drilled in the desert. This vision comes so clearly to me. I can see the little goats jumping on the backs of the adults trying to get to the water instead of waiting their turn. A little four-year-old threw rocks at a hundred or so camels to keep them away until the goats had their fill. The camels will drink 10-15 gallons at a time and can go for weeks without drinking. The goats have more immediate needs. Just that whole scene a hundred miles from anything we would call civilization pops back into the brain without any prompting. That and a thousand other visions will continue to fascinate me for a long time.
But for now, Korea awaits.
Love to all, C and J

Divaa postcript

When we left Mongolia we realized that Divaa, the girl working at the ger camp at Lake Hovskul was in a no win situation. She was an intelligent girl who had no opportunity to better herself because like so many young women she was locked into a system that offered no avenue for improvement. She made about $50 a month in a camp 50 miles from the nearest town. We talked about bringing her to the U.S. where she could improve her English and get a job in the tourist industry.
These conversations went on for three years and finally she realized that this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Therefore, in 2005 she came over to attend a semester at Delta College in Stockton, California. She did quite well there, but when it was time to go back home, another opportunity afforded itself.
She had a cousin living in Salt Lake City who had become a Mormon while she was in Mongolia and did her mission in Fairfield, Ca. Only 50 miles from our house. Go figure the odds on that one. Anyway, she now lived in Utah and attended school there, so Divaa decided to go live with her and continue her studies. She has now graduated from Junior college, and is now attending BYU.
I am very proud of her. She has used this opportunity well. She has learned to be independent and self-sufficient and has maintained an A- B+ average in college. Although my financial responsibilities have been assumed by the Mormon church after she became a member of that church, she has found work within the legal limits of her visa and basically supports herself.
She was able to bring her mother over from Mongolia and we, in turn, brought both of them to Washington where we had a great week showing her the local sights. “So much water,” she kept saying. No, it wasn’t quite the Mongolian steppes. We talk often and she will always be a part of our lives. When she returns to Mongolia her prospects are so very much brighter than they would otherwise have been.