Sunday, January 27, 2008
Snow
On the drive to Berkh I wanted to take pictures but I realized after awhile there is not much more you can capture from the car—it is just never ending white. Then I noticed that because it is so white anything that is not snow really stands out and you can see it from so far away, whether it be a small section of brush or a lonely herdsman in the distance. It is so pure and clean. The snow that is unadulterated by dirt or soot even glistens in the suns light, it is unreal! This helped me visualize the plea David makes in Psalms 51, “wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” I have heard that a million times and sung it even more, but there is something about seeing words and making that connection in your mind. Somehow it holds greater meaning.
Speaking of having sung that phrase, this may have been in the back of my mind because recently I have been listening to Jon Foreman’s(of Switchfoot) solo album called “Winter.” He sings a beautiful, plaintive version of Psalm 51. I recommend his “Winter” and “Fall” albums as they are full of simple, reflective songs that can easily be identified with because of their earnestness and honesty.
Speaking of having sung that phrase, this may have been in the back of my mind because recently I have been listening to Jon Foreman’s(of Switchfoot) solo album called “Winter.” He sings a beautiful, plaintive version of Psalm 51. I recommend his “Winter” and “Fall” albums as they are full of simple, reflective songs that can easily be identified with because of their earnestness and honesty.
Soldier (more thoughts from Berkh)
Soldier
The first apartment we walk into we are met by an old woman, her face lined with years of hard work. She brings us to her room where her husband is lying on a bed watching television. He is 92 years old and was a high-ranking officer in the army, in fact, from what I gather he was leader of the troops from the whole province (pardon my lack of knowledge of the proper military jargon). He has hurt himself and finds it very difficult to walk. Their apartment has no restroom. I can see my breath as we talk to him in his bedroom.
I go around the corner into another room that has a desk/dresser and a few other various items. One of the World Vision staff calls me over to feel the radiator heater. I pull off my gloves and put my hand on it. Cold.
The narrow hallway that runs through the apartment is filled with smoke. We enter the kitchen to discover the source, a wood stove that functions as their main source of heat.
I wander back into the bedroom, the former soldier is still sharing his story. It is hard for me to believe that this little man that can barely walk used to lead an army. I try to imagine him in his prime, full of life with his young wife by his side. I picture happy faces that would never dream of living the way they are now. How does one go from being a leader to immobile and cold?
The first apartment we walk into we are met by an old woman, her face lined with years of hard work. She brings us to her room where her husband is lying on a bed watching television. He is 92 years old and was a high-ranking officer in the army, in fact, from what I gather he was leader of the troops from the whole province (pardon my lack of knowledge of the proper military jargon). He has hurt himself and finds it very difficult to walk. Their apartment has no restroom. I can see my breath as we talk to him in his bedroom.
I go around the corner into another room that has a desk/dresser and a few other various items. One of the World Vision staff calls me over to feel the radiator heater. I pull off my gloves and put my hand on it. Cold.
The narrow hallway that runs through the apartment is filled with smoke. We enter the kitchen to discover the source, a wood stove that functions as their main source of heat.
I wander back into the bedroom, the former soldier is still sharing his story. It is hard for me to believe that this little man that can barely walk used to lead an army. I try to imagine him in his prime, full of life with his young wife by his side. I picture happy faces that would never dream of living the way they are now. How does one go from being a leader to immobile and cold?
Berkh
Today we drove about 70 kilometers northeast of Onderkhan to a smaller town called Berkh. Throughout the day before we left they kept asking me if I was going to be warm enough because Berkh is even colder than here—I thought, can it get any colder than this? They called it the countryside, which made me laugh inside because to me we’re already in the countryside! Anyway, because they kept asking me if I needed thicker clothing I decided to add a few layers so I left wearing 4 layers of pants (underarmor, thermals, flannel longjohns, and jeans) and 5 layers on my upper-body. So the difference between the two is that Onderkhan is -35 and there it is -45 Celsius.
It was a little over an hour drive through the white desert. I was amazed at our driver’s sense of direction because at least half of the journey we weren’t driving on a road—to me it looked as if we were simply driving in the opposite direction of our town. Most of the time there was not a thing in sight except for the intermittent phone or power lines. There were scattered patches of livestock, it is hard for me to fathom that kind of lifestyle especially when I looked around and saw the tiny bits of dry brush, pushing not more than a few inches through the snow. What a hard life.
I spent a good deal of time talking with one of my travel buddies that knows a little more English than the rest. I am learning how to teach and correct her English as that is the only way it can get better right? I am used to just letting things slide but she keeps insisting that I correct her and ends many sentences with, “understand me?” Makes me really think about what I say and how I say it so that I don’t confuse her or any of the other staff.
There is no way I could have prepared myself for what I would see in Berkh. I knew that it is a smaller and less developed town so I had pictured more gers and small buildings. Instead we were met with a variety of 5-6 story apartment buildings which I thought at first to be in good condition. I learned later that these were built by the Russians a long time ago and were top of the line. Then they abandoned that area and the buildings have deteriorated over time and use. This was a wonderful chance to see the impact and importance of the work that World Vision does. We brought firewood and 5 heaters with us to give to some families. Practical, I thought. Understatement of the year. Imagine this. You walk into the main entrance of the apartment complex and you cannot see anything except for whatever the light that leaks through corridor chooses to expose. I could barely see the steps in front of me as we climbed the stairs. We went into 15 different homes and their main commonality was that it was so cold inside that you could see your breath. This is inside! Home is supposed to be a shelter from the cold and yet these people are still so cold in their house! Every apartment is equipped with heater radiators but not a single one that I saw today actually worked. They were all cold and corroded. The only heating for most homes was a wooden stove in the kitchen. I saw one where the bathroom and the kitchen were the same room. I remember another one where there was frost on the walls inside the apartment. They were overcrowded with as many as 10 living in a tiny apartment; some housed two families. Mold and mildew ate at the corners of the walls. So much to take in. How do people live like this? How can we live on while others barely make it through each day? I wonder how they keep motivated to survive? I kept telling myself that I could only suffer through that with the hope I have in Jesus. I couldn’t help but ask God how he can let people live like that. But then how can I ask that? He has given me plenty and given me the chance to see this. So, I feel like the question is being turned right back at me, how can you let my children suffer?
So the question is, what can we do to make a lasting difference in communities like this? True, we helped a few families today, but what about the rest of them? Tomorrow we will be discussing these things and trying to figure out how to tackle this huge problem. We can’t just give everyone a heater and firewood—that doesn’t solve the problem—it only alleviates and delays facing the real issues and also creates dependence. May the staff and leaders here at World Vision have the wisdom they need to make decisions that will make a lasting difference in communities like Berkh.
It was a little over an hour drive through the white desert. I was amazed at our driver’s sense of direction because at least half of the journey we weren’t driving on a road—to me it looked as if we were simply driving in the opposite direction of our town. Most of the time there was not a thing in sight except for the intermittent phone or power lines. There were scattered patches of livestock, it is hard for me to fathom that kind of lifestyle especially when I looked around and saw the tiny bits of dry brush, pushing not more than a few inches through the snow. What a hard life.
I spent a good deal of time talking with one of my travel buddies that knows a little more English than the rest. I am learning how to teach and correct her English as that is the only way it can get better right? I am used to just letting things slide but she keeps insisting that I correct her and ends many sentences with, “understand me?” Makes me really think about what I say and how I say it so that I don’t confuse her or any of the other staff.
There is no way I could have prepared myself for what I would see in Berkh. I knew that it is a smaller and less developed town so I had pictured more gers and small buildings. Instead we were met with a variety of 5-6 story apartment buildings which I thought at first to be in good condition. I learned later that these were built by the Russians a long time ago and were top of the line. Then they abandoned that area and the buildings have deteriorated over time and use. This was a wonderful chance to see the impact and importance of the work that World Vision does. We brought firewood and 5 heaters with us to give to some families. Practical, I thought. Understatement of the year. Imagine this. You walk into the main entrance of the apartment complex and you cannot see anything except for whatever the light that leaks through corridor chooses to expose. I could barely see the steps in front of me as we climbed the stairs. We went into 15 different homes and their main commonality was that it was so cold inside that you could see your breath. This is inside! Home is supposed to be a shelter from the cold and yet these people are still so cold in their house! Every apartment is equipped with heater radiators but not a single one that I saw today actually worked. They were all cold and corroded. The only heating for most homes was a wooden stove in the kitchen. I saw one where the bathroom and the kitchen were the same room. I remember another one where there was frost on the walls inside the apartment. They were overcrowded with as many as 10 living in a tiny apartment; some housed two families. Mold and mildew ate at the corners of the walls. So much to take in. How do people live like this? How can we live on while others barely make it through each day? I wonder how they keep motivated to survive? I kept telling myself that I could only suffer through that with the hope I have in Jesus. I couldn’t help but ask God how he can let people live like that. But then how can I ask that? He has given me plenty and given me the chance to see this. So, I feel like the question is being turned right back at me, how can you let my children suffer?
So the question is, what can we do to make a lasting difference in communities like this? True, we helped a few families today, but what about the rest of them? Tomorrow we will be discussing these things and trying to figure out how to tackle this huge problem. We can’t just give everyone a heater and firewood—that doesn’t solve the problem—it only alleviates and delays facing the real issues and also creates dependence. May the staff and leaders here at World Vision have the wisdom they need to make decisions that will make a lasting difference in communities like Berkh.
Beijing II
…Beijing continued…
The room is dark and quiet, the rhythm of my roommate’s breathing is violently disrupted by a phone call. It’s for work; he jumps right into the conversation, the person on the other side would have never guessed he was asleep.
At the conclusion of his call we decide to go to the information desk to see what is happening. They shrug their shoulders and shake their heads, we ask them about food and they only seem more confused. Fortunately two guys behind us speak English and know what is going on, they tell us that dinner is at 6pm. Its 5:30.
My roommate steps outside and says that he is going for a walk. I decide to join him so that I can see what lies beyond the familiar interior of the airport. Across the street we see the massage parlor that had mysteriously slipped a card under our door sometime in the afternoon. (The card made us laugh—on one side a picture of a Caucasian girl and on the other a local—trying to appeal to multiple cultures.) We turn left and walk parallel to the small street until it ends, swallowed by a bigger road. Along the way we cross an entrance to a temple and see several small restaurants. They are ever inviting with the steam rising off the hot food, beckoning me from the cold.
We return right at 6 and go to a room on the second floor of the hotel restaurant filled with round tables. I follow my roommate to a table whose only occupant is “Lazy Susan.” Half way through our meal a guy announces something from the entrance of the restaurant in either Mongolian or Mandarin and then says something about “30 minutes” in English.
We arrive at the airport around 8pm and are on the plane around 8:20pm. The flight goes smooth and I fall into a deep sleep only to be awoken by an announcement saying that they cannot land the plane in Ulaanbaatar because it of the weather. Unbelievable.
Back in Beijing it is 1am and I have entered the country officially for the second time in the same day. We go through the familiar maze to board our buses, but discover that they aren’t there yet. We wait half an hour. Someone comments, “they knew an hour and a half ago we were coming back, you would have thought they could have got the buses here.” Around 3am we arrive at our hotel, it looks like we’ve moved up a notch. Either that or they’re thinking about how to not lose customers.
My former roommate and I decide that we can tolerate each other for a few more hours so we share again. I look at the card key for my room, apparently the name of our hotel is the “Party School Advanced Training Center Training Building.” I ask my roommate if because of who he works for if he is going to get in trouble for staying here.
7am we go to the front desk to find out when we are supposed to leave because surprise, surprise no information was provided last night. I am a little peeved because I find out that we leave at 9am and breakfast is served at 8.
The whole flight I keep waiting for something to happen, for the captain to speak through the intercom and tell us we’re turning around. Instead he says we are landing in 20 minutes. Don’t get your hopes up yet, I tell myself.
We land and everyone laughs and claps.
The room is dark and quiet, the rhythm of my roommate’s breathing is violently disrupted by a phone call. It’s for work; he jumps right into the conversation, the person on the other side would have never guessed he was asleep.
At the conclusion of his call we decide to go to the information desk to see what is happening. They shrug their shoulders and shake their heads, we ask them about food and they only seem more confused. Fortunately two guys behind us speak English and know what is going on, they tell us that dinner is at 6pm. Its 5:30.
My roommate steps outside and says that he is going for a walk. I decide to join him so that I can see what lies beyond the familiar interior of the airport. Across the street we see the massage parlor that had mysteriously slipped a card under our door sometime in the afternoon. (The card made us laugh—on one side a picture of a Caucasian girl and on the other a local—trying to appeal to multiple cultures.) We turn left and walk parallel to the small street until it ends, swallowed by a bigger road. Along the way we cross an entrance to a temple and see several small restaurants. They are ever inviting with the steam rising off the hot food, beckoning me from the cold.
We return right at 6 and go to a room on the second floor of the hotel restaurant filled with round tables. I follow my roommate to a table whose only occupant is “Lazy Susan.” Half way through our meal a guy announces something from the entrance of the restaurant in either Mongolian or Mandarin and then says something about “30 minutes” in English.
We arrive at the airport around 8pm and are on the plane around 8:20pm. The flight goes smooth and I fall into a deep sleep only to be awoken by an announcement saying that they cannot land the plane in Ulaanbaatar because it of the weather. Unbelievable.
Back in Beijing it is 1am and I have entered the country officially for the second time in the same day. We go through the familiar maze to board our buses, but discover that they aren’t there yet. We wait half an hour. Someone comments, “they knew an hour and a half ago we were coming back, you would have thought they could have got the buses here.” Around 3am we arrive at our hotel, it looks like we’ve moved up a notch. Either that or they’re thinking about how to not lose customers.
My former roommate and I decide that we can tolerate each other for a few more hours so we share again. I look at the card key for my room, apparently the name of our hotel is the “Party School Advanced Training Center Training Building.” I ask my roommate if because of who he works for if he is going to get in trouble for staying here.
7am we go to the front desk to find out when we are supposed to leave because surprise, surprise no information was provided last night. I am a little peeved because I find out that we leave at 9am and breakfast is served at 8.
The whole flight I keep waiting for something to happen, for the captain to speak through the intercom and tell us we’re turning around. Instead he says we are landing in 20 minutes. Don’t get your hopes up yet, I tell myself.
We land and everyone laughs and claps.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
from Beijing - the first half of the story
(obviously I got here so the story is not completed yet. I will fill you in on the other details later)
Here I am in Beijing China in Ming Gong Hotel rooming with an employee of the US Embassy in Mongolia. We are both stranded here in what used to be a 3 star hotel, unsure of when we are going to be flying out of here for Ulaanbaatar. There are stains on the carpet, there is visible dust in the corners and the paint in the bathroom is peeling. The view is dismal out of our third floor room, not more than the backside of a rundown building. My roommate thinks it is pretty nasty but honestly I could care less—it certainly beats sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in the airport hour after hour. Besides, its free and is “nice” compared to some of the bungalows I’ve stayed in in Thailand.
We arrived around 6:30am and were supposed to fly out at 8:20am which got moved back to 12pm only to be moved back to 1600hours. They said bad weather and strong winds are keeping us here. Around 1300hours an Air China lady was walking around holding a small sign that showed my flight number and was saying something that I could not quite hear. I decided to follow her and see what was up, I was never able to grab her attention to ask what was going on but I overheard her mentioning something about a hotel. A mixed bag assortment of followers trailed the lady with the small sign through a maze of people to an immigration area where they took our ticket stub and made us wait. I saw some people that were speaking in English to each other and tried to discreetly listen in on their comments only to find that they knew no more than I did. After 15 minutes or so of waiting around a lady said “Ulaanbaatar, follow me” and so the flock continued, our destination now our group moniker. We continued through another maze out of the international terminal into an even larger group of people yet the Air China representative was no where to be found. Someone in the front must have been trailing her closely because we ended up outside and got into some buses that took us to this hotel. The only way I made it there was I realized that it was important to pay close attention to the others on the flight—they became like my scattered bread crumbs guiding me back (even though I’d never gone that way before…).
A very drunk man made it clear I was on the right path, a friend or relative kept having to stabilize him as he could not even walk straight or keep his balance. His wobbling, teetering-tottering stumbling is strangely what helped me know I was going the right way.
When we got to the hotel we walked in and no instructions were given. I watched and followed suit, we were to go to the desk and give them our passport and other half of our ticket to get a room. As I was in line I watched an American that lives in Beijing complain about having to stay here when he lives close by and he proceeded to rant in Mandarin to the hotel staff. This caused quite a stir, it was more of a “lets all stare at the foreigner speaking Mandarin” kind of way where everyone was quite amused. I got to the reception desk at the same time as another American and the lady asked me how many and since we were both traveling alone she put us together. He says to me, “how do I know you’re not an axe-murderer?” I smile and we do the standard funny comment about the situation followed by introduction of names.
I’m sitting here in my room on the soft bed not knowing when we are going to fly out. They haven’t told us anything. It’s 16:35, obviously we aren’t flying on the scheduled flight. Is there a flight later tonight? Are we going to sleep here tonight? Are they going to give us food coupons?
A slight crick on both sides of my neck nags me, prompting me to ask, “why couldn’t I have known that we would get a hotel room?” I had slept outside my gate, 1c, for two hours. It must have been a comical sight, although probably not too uncommon in a place like the airport. I was a tangled mess of my two bags, afraid they might be swiped while I am catching some z’s, my jacket draped over me. I looped my arms through my backpack straps then placed it on the seat to the right of me and laid my head upon it. After my neck began to hurt I put the bag on the left. It wasn’t quite the same and I couldn’t sleep as well.
So here I am. Waiting. Questions fill my mind disrupted by the intermittent snores of my roommate. I wonder, am I meant to go to Mongolia? Is God trying to tell me I should be doing something else? After several months of wondering what the details were beyond the fact that I would be going I finally get to Thailand and have a chance to learn a little more. Then we work out the details that should have been known before and it leads to a delay of departure because of the process of getting a work visa. Then my stay gets extended which was a blessing to have more family time and getting to see my brother play in a few basketball games. Then again it makes me overstay my visa for Thailand and we get a small fine. I finally got on the plane 1am this morning thinking that this was finally it. It is, but I have been avoiding thinking about this and so I was/am eager to just get there and face it and make it that much more real. It has been such a distant, nebulous concept. Now I am ready and the flight is not. I am a willing vessel. God use me. Cripple my fears and questions of the unknown. You are all I know right now, you are the hope I cling to. You opened the doors to allow this opportunity, give me the eyes to see, the ears to hear, a heart for others, the hands to serve.
Here I am in Beijing China in Ming Gong Hotel rooming with an employee of the US Embassy in Mongolia. We are both stranded here in what used to be a 3 star hotel, unsure of when we are going to be flying out of here for Ulaanbaatar. There are stains on the carpet, there is visible dust in the corners and the paint in the bathroom is peeling. The view is dismal out of our third floor room, not more than the backside of a rundown building. My roommate thinks it is pretty nasty but honestly I could care less—it certainly beats sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in the airport hour after hour. Besides, its free and is “nice” compared to some of the bungalows I’ve stayed in in Thailand.
We arrived around 6:30am and were supposed to fly out at 8:20am which got moved back to 12pm only to be moved back to 1600hours. They said bad weather and strong winds are keeping us here. Around 1300hours an Air China lady was walking around holding a small sign that showed my flight number and was saying something that I could not quite hear. I decided to follow her and see what was up, I was never able to grab her attention to ask what was going on but I overheard her mentioning something about a hotel. A mixed bag assortment of followers trailed the lady with the small sign through a maze of people to an immigration area where they took our ticket stub and made us wait. I saw some people that were speaking in English to each other and tried to discreetly listen in on their comments only to find that they knew no more than I did. After 15 minutes or so of waiting around a lady said “Ulaanbaatar, follow me” and so the flock continued, our destination now our group moniker. We continued through another maze out of the international terminal into an even larger group of people yet the Air China representative was no where to be found. Someone in the front must have been trailing her closely because we ended up outside and got into some buses that took us to this hotel. The only way I made it there was I realized that it was important to pay close attention to the others on the flight—they became like my scattered bread crumbs guiding me back (even though I’d never gone that way before…).
A very drunk man made it clear I was on the right path, a friend or relative kept having to stabilize him as he could not even walk straight or keep his balance. His wobbling, teetering-tottering stumbling is strangely what helped me know I was going the right way.
When we got to the hotel we walked in and no instructions were given. I watched and followed suit, we were to go to the desk and give them our passport and other half of our ticket to get a room. As I was in line I watched an American that lives in Beijing complain about having to stay here when he lives close by and he proceeded to rant in Mandarin to the hotel staff. This caused quite a stir, it was more of a “lets all stare at the foreigner speaking Mandarin” kind of way where everyone was quite amused. I got to the reception desk at the same time as another American and the lady asked me how many and since we were both traveling alone she put us together. He says to me, “how do I know you’re not an axe-murderer?” I smile and we do the standard funny comment about the situation followed by introduction of names.
I’m sitting here in my room on the soft bed not knowing when we are going to fly out. They haven’t told us anything. It’s 16:35, obviously we aren’t flying on the scheduled flight. Is there a flight later tonight? Are we going to sleep here tonight? Are they going to give us food coupons?
A slight crick on both sides of my neck nags me, prompting me to ask, “why couldn’t I have known that we would get a hotel room?” I had slept outside my gate, 1c, for two hours. It must have been a comical sight, although probably not too uncommon in a place like the airport. I was a tangled mess of my two bags, afraid they might be swiped while I am catching some z’s, my jacket draped over me. I looped my arms through my backpack straps then placed it on the seat to the right of me and laid my head upon it. After my neck began to hurt I put the bag on the left. It wasn’t quite the same and I couldn’t sleep as well.
So here I am. Waiting. Questions fill my mind disrupted by the intermittent snores of my roommate. I wonder, am I meant to go to Mongolia? Is God trying to tell me I should be doing something else? After several months of wondering what the details were beyond the fact that I would be going I finally get to Thailand and have a chance to learn a little more. Then we work out the details that should have been known before and it leads to a delay of departure because of the process of getting a work visa. Then my stay gets extended which was a blessing to have more family time and getting to see my brother play in a few basketball games. Then again it makes me overstay my visa for Thailand and we get a small fine. I finally got on the plane 1am this morning thinking that this was finally it. It is, but I have been avoiding thinking about this and so I was/am eager to just get there and face it and make it that much more real. It has been such a distant, nebulous concept. Now I am ready and the flight is not. I am a willing vessel. God use me. Cripple my fears and questions of the unknown. You are all I know right now, you are the hope I cling to. You opened the doors to allow this opportunity, give me the eyes to see, the ears to hear, a heart for others, the hands to serve.
First Impressions of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
So, I'm here! I don't know really how to say what I see so I'll let these pictures speak for themselves. I will say though that it is very cold. I know this is in reverse order but getting here was a little crazy. I will post about that later. (I didn't capture the hustle and bustle of the main city area...by the time we got there my window was kind of fogged up)
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
New News You Never Knew
I just received a little bit more information about my internship as far as location and everything. I will be staying in Khentii which is 400 kilometers (240 miles) east of the capital Ulaanbaatar in an area of steppe land. The regional center that I will be staying at is called Onderkhan which means 'High King.' A road has recently been constructed that reaches almost the entire way so it "only takes around 5-6 hours by jeep to get there." Finally, it is the birth place of Genghis Khan! Let the warrior training begin! It seems the details are coming through and it is all piecing together with each glimpse of info that we get.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
More info...still in Bangkok
Today I had the chance to talk to the former country director for World Vision Mongolia. He was able to give me a better feel of what I should expect and what it is like to live there. Even though a lot of the logistics still remain unknown at this point it is quite comforting to be able to begin constructing a picture of the country and area in my mind. So I found out that I am going to be staying 5 hours out of the capital--Ulaanbaatar at a rural ADP (area development project) and living in that building. I was told that because it is so dry there that you can develop quite a lot of static charge to the point that some people have destroyed their computers! Try explaining that one to your insurance company!
His description of the weather reminded me of nasty street dogs that you see all over Bangkok. He said to respect the weather and it will respect you. If you try to be a hero and be brave it will take you down, but if you understand its strength and your limitations you will be alright. Even venturing into its territory briefly without being equipped or prepared can leave you sick from its swarming attack.
This time of year is when they are eating a lot of fatty food to try and keep warm and so I was advised to be careful as that can be difficult on a digestive system unfamiliar with such a diet. I was glad to know that there would easy access to stores and supplies that I might need--comforting to know that I will not be stranded in the middle of a vast steppe by myself.
As far as transportation goes apparently any and every car is a taxi. Yes, there are the ubiquitous yellow cabs as well but it seems that everyone is willing to give a ride for a bit of extra cash. Interesting.
A challenge that I foresee is that the culture may be very a big contrast to what I am familiar with in Southeast Asia. He told me that they tend to speak their mind, they are very straightforward and if you do not tell them what you are thinking they will take you for granted. He also said they take you for your word: if they ask you if you want something and say 'no,' then that's that! None of this say 'no' three times before you really mean it thing. None of the polite refusal stuff. So it will be transitioning with a mindset that tends to favor indirect towards a very direct culture.
I cannot quite recapture everything that he told me but I just feel a bit more at ease now as the date for departure nears. All for now.
His description of the weather reminded me of nasty street dogs that you see all over Bangkok. He said to respect the weather and it will respect you. If you try to be a hero and be brave it will take you down, but if you understand its strength and your limitations you will be alright. Even venturing into its territory briefly without being equipped or prepared can leave you sick from its swarming attack.
This time of year is when they are eating a lot of fatty food to try and keep warm and so I was advised to be careful as that can be difficult on a digestive system unfamiliar with such a diet. I was glad to know that there would easy access to stores and supplies that I might need--comforting to know that I will not be stranded in the middle of a vast steppe by myself.
As far as transportation goes apparently any and every car is a taxi. Yes, there are the ubiquitous yellow cabs as well but it seems that everyone is willing to give a ride for a bit of extra cash. Interesting.
A challenge that I foresee is that the culture may be very a big contrast to what I am familiar with in Southeast Asia. He told me that they tend to speak their mind, they are very straightforward and if you do not tell them what you are thinking they will take you for granted. He also said they take you for your word: if they ask you if you want something and say 'no,' then that's that! None of this say 'no' three times before you really mean it thing. None of the polite refusal stuff. So it will be transitioning with a mindset that tends to favor indirect towards a very direct culture.
I cannot quite recapture everything that he told me but I just feel a bit more at ease now as the date for departure nears. All for now.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
And so it begins
I thought it might be good to log in thoughts, inspirations, struggles, ideas, events and whatever else while I'm in Mongolia. So, here we go and thus the adventure begins. Updates will likely be sporadic but who knows. Thank you for reading and for praying for me.
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