Integration
is real.
So
I don’t know if it is because the weather is now above 0 degrees C or because
school is almost over, or maybe even because I told my teachers I have been
missing home lately, but I have been integrating the shit out of this week. It
all started when I decided not to go to our teachers meeting because I felt
like having a pity party for one about how I miss my family and the American
lifestyle of a twenty-something year old. Don’t worry it isn’t that important
for me to be there anyway. They speak in Mongolian and talk about all subjects
and problems the school is having, also the success stories too. But I usually
go once a month just to see if I can follow what they are saying. The problem
is that it usually lasts three hours. And that is a long time to not understand
what someone is talking about. Anyway, I came to school the next day and some
of my teachers asked if I was ok (aka why I didn’t show up). I told them the
truth this time too. Usually I just brush it off and say I had a stomach bug,
or was tired from the “vigorous” workday, but for some reason I felt inclined
to be honest. I said I was feeling a little blue about not being with my family
and not having any friends my own age. Surprisingly they became really concerned
about it. It might have to do with the fact that their first volunteer left
after only one year of service and they are afraid I will do the same (I would
like to clear that I have no intention of cutting my service short. Rojo’s
finish what they start. And yes there is only one Rojo I know of and that is
me, but seeing as I can’t generalize my families name because I am trying to be
more honest about shit I’m just going with it). Or maybe they are genuinely
concerned about me, which would be a pleasant surprise.
So it all started on that gloomy
Thursday. Well actually now that I think about it, it was a beautiful day, but
don’t stories always seem to start with bad weather? My teachers and I went to
a fellow teachers house for her daughters hair cutting ceremony.
*Side
note: There is a tradition in Mongolia where children (girls 2, 4, or 6, and
boys 3 or 5) shave their heads to be born again. I am still a little unclear
why they choose to do this, but it’s adorable so nobody is complaining. They
usually cut their hair in the morning with immediate family and spend the rest
of the day preparing food and drinks for friends and family to come visit this
new little bundle that now looks like a cancer patient, but with more energy. I
have heard they keep some of the hair until the child is 18 and then give it to
them, but I have seen no evidence of this happening. Also I don’t know what the
kid would do with his hair, and I’m hoping I will never find out. Oh also
guests bring a present for the little rascal, usually money and candy that they
take and deliver straight to their parents. It’s kind of a nice process because
this money tends to cover the cost for holding this shindig in the first place.
Anyway,
back to the story. So we are at my teacher’s house eating soup and drinking
sour milk. Also this sour milk isn’t gross it is delicious I just can’t think
of any other way to describe it, so just trust me. The vodka shots start going
around and her husband knows I can drink so I end up taking four. It is considered
rude to refuse something in another person’s house so I tend to just go with
it. Also four shots in like thirty minutes just getting tipsy is kind of
awesome. Thank you college for making me a heavy weight. All those years of
vodka shots are finally paying off. So being a little tipsy and enjoying myself
I invited my teachers over to my house on Friday to drink beer and have dinner.
Kind of like to celebrate the end of the school year. Now I have done this
before and nobody showed up so I wasn’t expecting anyone to come, but to my
surprise it actually happened.
It’s
funny because when you plan things, it always seems to go differently than what
you thought in your head. So on Friday after we cleaned around the school a
couple of teachers came over and drank and chilled. It was kind of amazing.
These are not English teachers I might add, so all the conversation was in
Mongolian and I understood probably ninety percent of it. I made kimbob, or
sushi with ham and pickles, and they gobbled it up. It was my first time really
spending time with other teachers alone without another English teacher
translating the whole conversation for me. Afterwards I went to the river with
my haasha sister and we played in the mud. We literally splashed around in the
mud and it was the most fun I have had in months.
The next day my haasha mom and I
worked out together with Jillian Michaels (shout out to Becca for sending the
best doable workout video ever). After I got ready to go to Salt Lake with my
other English teacher and a few of her friends. Now I should probably give you
the back story to this story. Sorry this is a long one, but I mean my life is
pretty entertaining right?
So earlier in the week I went to
our new gas station and helped change the decimal placement on the machines
because all the instruction were in English. This alone was cool because I felt
like I was finally contributing to my community, which had already been amazing
to me all year. So my English teachers brother-in-law thanked us and invited us
to go to Salt Lake that weekend. So here Saturday is and we hop in the car and
go. Now I was expecting it to be nice and sunny and everyone would be playing
outside and having a ball. But remember when I said everything is different
inside your head? Yea, same thing here. It was sunny, but it was also
ridiculously windy at the same time. Like so incredibly windy children had to
be escorted when they were outside for fear of them blowing away. So the
majority of the day was spent in the car. On the bright side I got to see and
pet a two day old horse, and it was a stallion too! We also drove around the
countryside a little bit and explored. Once we got to the lake people were
taking some water because it was red. Apparently when it is windy the sand
blows into the lake, mixes with the salt and makes a reddish tint to it. They
use this for paint in the summer. Super clever right? So not a total waist that
it was so windy. We watched some competitions of darts, wrestling, volleyball,
and of course who could drink the a fifth of vodka the fastest without puking.
To everyone’s surprise, no one could. We had horhok in the car and drank beer
and chatted too. (horhok is goat that is cooked with hot rocks and is
delicious. Will definitely make it back in the states.) Oh I should probably
mention that it was four of us the majority of the day. Me, my English teacher
Ichka, her brother-in-law, and his coworker. His coworker is actually my age,
which was nice to hang out and chill with someone who didn’t have little children
to go back to. And I made my first male-unmarried friend without it being
weird. It only took me a year, but I am very satisfied with my success rate. By
next year I will have two unmarried male friends. Hopefully…
Anyway, Sunday rolls around and it is
a whole different ball game. We go to another teacher’s daughter’s hair cutting
ceremony and it is actually a nice mildly windy day so I wear a dress. After we
hop into another teacher’s car and drive three houses down to her house. We end
up going in and drinking beer with a few of the teachers. This was also great
because it was the first whimsical get together I have been to in a while. We
talk about her recent remodel of her house and then somehow her photo albums
get pulled out. It was adorable. We all crowded around this one book and they
all explained when and where each picture was taken. I think it had been a
while since they had done this because they got really into it. After a while
we wandered over to the next teacher’s house had wine and did the same process,
rinse and repeat. Then we went over to another teacher’s house, Myadagma, who
is a little older. She had made gedec, or all the insides of an animal cooked
in one boiling pot. Thankfully I have never had the pleasure of experiencing
this delicacy because I tell everyone I meet almost immediately after we
exchange names that I don’t eat gedec. So when we arrived all my teacher’s
said, almost in unison, that Rojo doesn’t eat gedec. It was adorable and kind
of awesome how protective they were of me. Myadagma being the sweetheart that
she is, knew this already and gave me the one meat bone of the stew. It was
scrumptious like always.
All in all I have had a pretty
successful integration week. It only took me precisely one year to accomplish,
but timing doesn’t matter, just the success story.
Also this is probably the last post
for a while due to the fact that school is ending and that is my internet
source. Also I plan to enjoy one of my last summer holidays before I have to
get a real job…
Sincerely,
Your
true Mongolian friend, relative, or random person’s blog you decided to read.
PS. No pictures this time because I
decided to live in the moment for once and not be a tourist. It really paid
off.