Back in 207 Country

After a grueling 30 hours in transit I'm back at 13 Homeplace. Phew.

On my way out of UB I was detained, for lack of better words, in Mongolian immigration. They fined me about $70 but were totally Mongolian about the situation. They are immigration officers, serious people with serious jobs, but they were more than friendly. I offered some food, we broke bread together. The woman in charge gave me her personal number in case I ever had trouble again and the man gave me his email to be in contact about ESL in the US or a beer when I'm back in UB. Mongolians are the nicest bunch in the world.

When I got to O'Hare or course my flight was delayed. I teared up a bit when I saw it at first but jetlag quickly set in and 9pm felt like the time to wake up. My mood went from sour and dying to excited to share my experiences with the other Mainers waiting at C8.

I intend on keeping this blog going to share any memories that I left out- expect a thought tomorrow on the Wild West of the desert and a drunken fight that got out of hand. I'm also going to continue the blog through the process of writing the unit I now owe Fund for Teachers, the awesome organization that made this trip happen. By then I'll probably be back in Mongolia...

GertoGer

I also want to give a big shout out to gertoger. I mentioned the organization before but I really want to give them some airtime. They set up my trips to Bulgan and Dundgobi and I couldn't have asked for more. Their trips are so incredibly superior to any other ones I have heard of so, if you come to see the "sights" of Mongolia, especially the Gobi, you are foolish for not going with them. The sights are rocks, big rocks, smaller rocks, fields, some dunes, and some mountains. It's pretty boring. What is fascinating is the culture. 50% of the country is nomadic! You MUST experience that while you are here an they are the best way. All of the incredible experiences I have written about wouldn't have happened without them.

Another reason gertoger rocks my world is that a lot of the proceeds go straight to the herders. That's the darn point. They are not being exploited, they are making money they need. Last winter was really tough, some families lost all of their animals, and you can support them by visiting! So, if you are heading to Mongolia, and you should btw, go to http://www.gertoger.org/ to plan your trip.

Full disclosure: Their trips aren't all easy. One of mine required you to be in decent shape and be able to handle long bumpy rides. But if you are looking for an adventure, an adventure you will find!

Last night in UB...

Now I say "UB" like I'm an expat. Has a month earned me the right? I think so.

I made it through yet another hellish bus ride today. Of course, a tire blew out. This is what happens when a large vehicle is held together by scotch tape and camel dung. But it was pretty funny. It didn't get get flat. I mean it when I say that it "blew out." It was a loud popping sound and while I silently groaned and rolled my eyes all of the Mongolians acted as though they had been waiting for it to happen. I had been trying to approach it that way as well but I'm too hopeful. So, as we waited around, they started busting out the airag (fermented mare's milk) that they got at the rest stop. At the stop I had rolled the dice with my stomach and got some buuz (dumplings) in a ger and downed a bowl of airag. Nothing like fermented milk before 4 hour bus ride down a dirt road. That's why the Mongolians were filling up their liter bottles. As it turns out, there is no drinking age for airag. They feed it to babies. A healthy baby is a drunk baby. Maybe that's why they don't cry on the bus...

Back to the busted tire... whenever anyone has trouble on the road, anyone passing stops. Normally, that's one car per hour. Or sometimes a bus. We got another bus. So, I eye the driver of the helper bus because I can quickly tell that he's going to be something else. And he is. He looks around the road, lights up a smoke, inhales deep and then opens the door. He's got the cigarette on the side of his mouth as he steps out and immediately pulls a champion move- left snot rocket, front loogie/spit, right snot rocket. These are serious snot rockets too. Like, I think a penny came out. So, he's fat, right, and he's waddling over, and the thing I like most is that he's got a big round blackish stain on the belly of the shirt his mom probably got him for his 11th birthday. The stain isn't cup size either. It's TGIFriday's plate size. That's big. He sizes up the situation, (as it turns out it takes at least six men to really understand the problem) spits again, and waddles back.

Another awesome mini-event in the busted tired saga is that the driver gives a bunch of guys a direction and they start scattering around the fields looking for something. One guy says the Mongolian version of, "got it!" and comes back with a used, rusty tire holdy thingy. It was completely necessary and this happens so frequently that you find that stuff on the side of the road.

My last English class yesterday was WONDERFUL. I taught them teenager slang and they loved it. They learned all sorts of stuff and silly conversations- "That's a total bummer!" "I'm going to hang out with my bff." "What's up?" "Cool" "I just caught my bf with another girls! -That's totally messed up! -Right? -Yeah But he wasn't worth it anyway." -and at the end of class I asked "Ready to bounce?" and they all wanted to stay and, wait, take a seat for this, learn more! After class, which was extended by an hour, we went out to play ping pong.

Tomorrow is the day. Bummer.