Back to the "Real World"

If you can call living and working in playing in Mongolia the "real world".

So, camp is over for reals this time. I ended up missing four days of the last week of camp which was a pretty big bummer. Not only did I have to put up with swollen, red, itchy eye, but I had to miss out on the last week with my kids to do it. Suck.

We had class for half a day yesterday, and then played games, hung out, and went wild strawberry hunting in the mountains behind the camp in the afternoon. There are mountains all around the camp and a pine forest right behind the camp boundaries. So, a group of us went traipsing through the woods to hunt for strawberries. They were super tiny, but oh so delicious. And, of course the kids took tons of pictures with their super hip camera phones - I am so last generation with a separate camera and phone. We finished off the day with a goodnight song and camp stories (none of which I understood because it was all in Mongolian). They have been trying to teach me some words and my repertoire is up to 10 or 12 words on a good day. My favorite words so far are pronounced (I have no idea how they're spelled because their in cyrillic) "Yahwee" which means let's go, "Bicham hayartay" which means I love you, and "Yahsembeh" which means what's happening or what's going on. And, every time I use a Mongolian word they would be surprised and occasionally clap for me. It was fun.

Then today we packed up, and left, and that's that.

There were a lot of ups and downs with dreading going in the first place, hating my boss for making me do it, missing everyone at home like crazy, and then finally enjoying the kids as people and as students. The whole experience was way more emotionally interesting and personally fulfilling than I thought possible. They really were fantastic kids. I really enjoyed being Bridged Bagsh, and the younger of the two teachers. So, I got to be teacher Bridged during class and just Bridged after class for games and football and water fights and strawberry hunting. I will miss them a lot. But, it was good - no, it was freaking awesome.

Now, onto the next adventure.

Eye Cold

There are a lot of things that I did or experienced as a child that I just didn't understand or appreciate at the time. And, now that I'm older, I can fully appreciate these things because some things just get better with age. Pink eye is not one of those things. It still sucks even when you're not a kid. Itchy, puffy, oozy, gross pink eye.

Dear Camp Kids,
I love you, but stop giving me diseases. K, Thanks.
Love Brijt Teacher.

Anyways.

I spent all of last week back in the city to catch up on AIESEC work. Most of my attempts at catching up on AIESEC work were foiled either by getting nailed with more hours for my second, not-as-important job or blackouts during my only free hours of the day. Oh adventures. Teaching in the city has made me appreciate camp-time even more. The kids in the city are just boring. I pretty much have to threaten them with torture and almost certain death to get them to talk at all. Except this one girl, who NEVER shuts up. I don't think she's aware that she signed up for a group class instead of a tutoring session. She doesn't give other kids a chance to talk. And, one day when we were playing a game (which the rest of the class was enjoying - I asked them to make sure) she actually asked if we could do book work instead. What. The. Fuck. Crazy child. There's another boy who is apparently a model. And, so some of the days he just decided not to wear a shirt. He had a cardigan on over his chest. But, no shirt. Just a cardigan. I was very confused. And, kind of wanted to laugh at him, but I can't dress myself for shit - so who am I to judge.
But, most of my week consisted of wallowing because I had to teach or pouting because the electricity (and internet) was out again, or sleeping.

We did have a Polish guy staying with us last week - and AIESECer friend of a friend who was passing through. One night when we were drinking with and Aussie fellow and a German fellow, the German and Polish fellows got into a fairly long winded argument about WWII. Who was or was not a victor, boundary disputes, whether or not Poland is right to trust the US over its European neighbors in security matters now, and more. It was really interesting to listen to, of course not being European myself and not really know the European side of that particular conflict, I was mostly listening.

But, those are pretty much the highlights of my week. I should be able to go back to camp tomorrow afternoon. Unless the drops are making my eye worse by tomorrow. Then, I'll have to change the plan...

But, for now I have another week (less than) of camp. Some of the kids from the first two weeks are supposed to come visit this week, hopefully I'm back by time they visit.

Camp Baby Deer - part 2

This week at camp went much better than the first, and much better that I ever expected camp to be. I finally got used to the food, to the fact that my cabin leaks when it rains, to doing work without internet, to winging the whole teaching thing, and it was good. Camp is beautiful and the air is incredibly clean. The weather is a little wonky, but it's okay. And, I really like the kids. They can be hellions in class sometimes, but they are still mostly decent kids. This doesn't mean that I like all kids - it means that this group was decent.
I really like the fact that in the camp atmosphere I get to see them in the classroom as students and get to learn about them out of class as people. It makes this teaching schtick way more worthwhile. It's easier to be patient with the student who doesn't participate in class when you know that he's mildly hard of hearing, doesn't understand English at the pace that class travels, and is willing to show up for an extra hour during lunch to practice at a pace that he understands. It's easier to keep giving up that extra hour at lunch (on top of being in class for 6 hours a day already) when you get to see the progress he's making and that it's getting easier for him to listen, understand, and respond in English - even if it is only a little bit. It's way easier to like the hellions in class when you get to pelt them with water in an epic water bottle fight outside of class. And, it's probably easier to like a foreign teacher who talks too fast, doesn't know how to teach, and is kind of an ogre when you get to watch her be foolish in games after class and pelt her with water in an epic water bottle fight. It's much easier to work together when you get to play together.
I really like the other teacher Sara-bagsh. (Bagsh is teacher, so that would make me Bridget-bagh. Or rather, Brijd-bagsh since the kids skip pretty much all of the vowels in my name. But, that's okay I can't pronounce theirs correctly either.) It's fun to be one of the teachers trading teacher stories. Talking smack about the kids in our classes when they need to have smack talked about them. It's nice to know that at least someone needs me as a lunch buddy as much as I need her. I skipped lunch one day and the next day she was very glad to have me back so she didn't have to eat alone. The kids are too cool to sit with their teachers, of course.
Some of my favorite moment throughout the week...
Toward the middle/end of the week I stopped talking at the intermediate class and started having them tell me what they know about stuff, or asking them what they wanted me to talk about. So, I would tell them about America, and they would tell me about Mongolia. I got all kinds of good suggestions for places to visit while I'm here. I got a whole lesson on things that are Mongolian - NOT CHINA.
The horse-headed fiddle is Mongolian National Instrument - NOT CHINA. The deel (a wrap around coat) is the Mongolian National Clothes - NOT CHINA. A wide variety of mutton concoctions are Mongolian National Foods - NOT CHINA. It is sadly true how much the Mongolian seem to hate their neighbor, but then again I am not from a history that has a hungry, culture munching giant for a neighbor. Although I am a little surprised that they don't reserve at least some animosity for the Russians. But, hey - that's their call I guess.
I also got to listen to the horse-headed fiddle (and if you check out my facebook page you can see some videos of one of my students playing it).
During a class with the beginners, one of my students asked me if I liked Ahz-i-ahn music. To which, I replied with a very confused look until one of the kids next to him whispers, "Asian!". So, I had to giggle to myself over that one.
Then trying to teach the kids the word "sheet" was kind of a debacle. I didn't really realize how incredibly close to another unfortunate word it is until i had a room of 23 youths yelling "SHIT" at me. I lost it on that one. I could not stop myself from laughing my ass off. Then one of the girls at the back goes, "Oh, wait. Shit? That's poo isn't it?" Yes. Yes it is.
Some of the kids that were only there for two weeks left the day before I did. So, Friday was their last day to hang out with their new camp friends. We had morning class and then just hung out for a while. During which time Brijd-bagsh got unceremoniously dragged into a water fight. It. Was. Awesome. It started up by my cabin, but quickly moved down toward the bathroom where there is a whole trough of facets. I started out on a team by myself, but quickly gained allies. On my team was Mohno, Undrakh, Badmaa, Anu, and Bymbaa. The other team was Osko, Tuvshu, Ebe, Ohinoo, and Tomko and Sulde. My team totally won. Even though Brijd-bagsh was soaked head to toe. Then later that night of a fairly hilarious game of "Do you like your neighbor?" (It's like How the Wind Blows, but instead of naming characteristics you name clothing. When kids don't remember which gender certain clothing is specific to, it's pretty funny), there was a disco. For one thing, the disco room is totally creepy with a giant mural of Bambi for Camp Baby Deer. But, Sara and I went in to issue awards to the kids who were leaving after their two weeks, and on the way out some of the kids stopped me to stay and dance with them. So, I did. I was exactly like being back in middle school! Girls on one bench. Boys across the room on the other. No mingling. And, when people did finally start to dance, they weren't really dancing, but standing in a circle. And, the crazy white teacher was the only one dancing. I finally left because they were boring me. I prefer college parties.
I find it interesting how such simple things can be so different around the world, and yet there are some thing that just don't change. A toilet can be several different shapes and sizes depending on where you are in the world. But, Mongolian teenagers, just like American teenagers, are still too cool to dance at the ripe old age of 15.
It was a very fun week. And, I actually get to go back. I'll be in UB all this week, then I'll go back for the last week of camp.

Once again, no acronym

Camp, Part the First

So, I have survived my first week of teaching English at a Mongolian summer camp. And, by setting myself up for the worst, I came out of the week pleasantly surprised and not completely dreading going back. The first day of camp was kind of a flustercluck. But, the rest of the week improved, and all is well.
The biggest challenges, so far, have been learning to use a squatty potty as efficiently as a “normal” potty, teaching kids to speak English who don’t really understand English when it is spoken, stomaching mutton for at least two meals a day – especially when accompanied by milk tea (read: salt water), and surviving a week with only baby wipes and the ability to wash my hair in the communal trough. It was not actually as scary as it sounds. The kids are (mostly) well behaved, sweet kids, who put in the effort to learn. Which makes my job easier because I don’t have to convince them why they should believe what I say.
Most of the week followed the same pattern. Wake up between 7:30 and 8 when the camp counselors started blasting creepy Mongolian children’s songs from the discotech building which happened to be right next to my room. Stumble to the squatty. Stumble back. Go to breakfast, the best meal of the day, which usually involved bread with either sugar-butter or jam, and some variety of porridge (runny cream of wheat or grits – depending on your geographical persuasion). Go to class. Try to muster enough English knowledge to last for 1.5 hrs. Avoid going to tea (the tea was icky because it was the salty variety, the snacks were usually pretty tasty, but one of the students always brought me one when I didn’t show for tea  ). Go back to class for another 1.5 hrs – try to assign enough “homework” to keep them busy for that long, and usually fail. Lunch. Try to hold my breath walking into the mess hall because it smelled like an armpit. Scoot all of the mutton in my soup and on my plate to the side. Try not to let Sara (the other English teacher, she’s Mongolian) see that I was avoiding my meat. Nap. Go back to class for 1.5 hrs with the other batch of kids. Try to keep them occupied. Tea. Back to class. Dinner (same deal as lunch). Free time. Sleep.
During free time I would either read my book, watch a movie on my laptop by myself or with some of the kids, trade songs and rock out to 90’s classics with the other teacher, play games with the kids (and look like a fool), or sleep.
On the second or third evening I watched Bride and Prejudice with a few of the older girls. It was an interesting gathering of cultures. There were 5 Mongolians and 1 American crouched over a laptop in a crumbly old camp school room watching a pseudo-Bollywood film. It was interesting.
Some of the games that I played with the kids in the evenings were strangely familiar. We played the Mongolian versions of Red Rover, Spoons, and almost played Duck, Duck, Goose (which has something to do with a wolf here and not ducks and geese). During Red Rover, Teacher Bridget took a spectacular fall down the hill because the stupid kid at the end let go of his neighbor’s hand. Jerk.
There was also once where I got to partake in the evening song. This is where all of the kids stood around, holding hands, and singing goodnight to each other. It was sweet. It was in Mongolian, of course, so I had it explained to me later. But, it was still sweet.
There’s also a kid who can play the horse-headed fiddle. Google it. It’s awesome. It looks kind of like a guitar designed by a cubist. But is played like the cello. Except, that this instrument only has two strings. This is still blowing my mind. The noises that come out of it don’t sound like they’ve come from two strings. It’s crazy. And, this particular student plays beautifully. It’s pretty cool to watch him play.
Friday night, I was sitting around with one of the girls in my cabin. She struggles with English, but she is really eager to learn and works hard, and tries to practice whenever she and I are in the cabin together. And, she asked me to go visit her family in Erdenet, a city about 250 miles north of UB. If I can swing it, I will try go visit her for a night or two before school starts. I would feel like an ass to not take her up on her offer for a night.
The kids, I say kids, but they’re not really. The youngest is a girl of 10, there’s a few 11-12 year old boys, but most of them are 15-19 years old. There may be one or two older than that, but I’m not sure. They really are a decent batch of kids. There’s a few in the beginning class that can be hooligans, but hopefully if Sara and I bust their asses enough they’ll calm down during class.

I got back to the city early last night so Gina and I met up with some Peace Corp people to go to one of the underground clubs in UB, it was pretty sweet. Afterwards we went to the Chinggis Hotel to continue dancing. It was a crazy nice hotel, but we got a little more than we bargained for. We had been dancing for a while when the DJ turned off the music – so we cleared the floor – and we were treated to a contortionist performance. There were two girls, one of them did a hand stand on the other girl’s elbows, and collar bones, and hip bones. It was crazy. Then the dancing started again, for a while. But, the next pair of performers that we were kicked off of the dance floor for were strippers. At first, I thought to myself, “My, that lady’s nipples are showing through her top.” If you could really call it a top at all, it was more like strings held together with fish netting. Then, “Oh, well, she just took off her ‘top’. Those there are titties. Maybe it’s just a topless deal.” Then, “Oh, well, she just took off her panties. My, that lady is nekked. Huh.” It wasn’t awkward or hot or whatever stripper experiences are supposed to be. It was just confusing as to why these two women were getting naked on the dance floor of a 4 star hotel. Their act was followed up by a dance troupe dressed like cheer leaders. It was a very strange assortment of performers.
Today was Nadaam, the big national holiday celebrating the “three manly sports”. Gina, Pago, Oyunbold, and I went to the stadium, but tickets to get in were expensive and we could see the opening ceremony parade participants lined up outside. So, we skipped the Opening Ceremony. Ate some khuushuur, fried pastries with mutton in them. Yum. Mutton. They actually were pretty good because the mutton was kept to a minimum. And, we had our first experience with airag. Airag is fermented mare’s milk. It’s a tad vinegary. It’s not like I would go looking for it to drink, but it wasn’t bad. Interesting, but not bad, and apparently a tad alcoholic. Then we went in search of the horse races. It was a pretty epic search. We eventually found where they were supposed to end, but after waiting for about an hour (and alerting each other to every passing horse and tourist) we left without catching the race. Oh well, I got a lot of pictures of the countryside right outside of UB during the drive. Which, I shall post soon. Maybe.
That, I think, is all for now. I head back to camp tomorrow morning at 8 am. One more week sans internet, then back to UB.

No acronym this time...