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...
