Thursday, August 30, 2012
Well, four days of school down (only 178 to go) and two weeks into Mongolia, I'm still alive. I have not starved to death (in fact, I'm going to cook something REAL shortly after I write this, which will make the third time this week), and in fact, I was not even remotely tempted to eat the whole pizza I ordered last night (because it was nowhere near as good as New York Style Pizza's Brooklyn....mmmm.....) I know Mongolia will be a good place for me, especially if I make myself keep the right perspective. For example, it might take me an hour and a half to get downtown on the bus sometimes, but if I remind myself that it used to take me nearly that long on the subway to get to my belly dance lessons in Shanghers, or to make it to places in Seoul, it doesn't seem so bad. It's all about perspective, really.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
This afternoon I was going to write about the song and dance show we went to on Thursday. Or maybe possibly the beauty - and deep night chill - of Hustain National Park. Or maybe both. Instead, you get to hear me bitch a little about my second attempt to get to church. Last week, my first attempt, I walked down to the bus stop (a ten minute walk) in the pouring rain. I didn't have an umbrella, so I got soaked, but I just had a FEELING that something monumental was going to happen, and I have been trying to be a better Mormon girl, so I was happy to get wet. That is, until I'd been standing at the bus stop waiting for 25 minutes, in the freezing cold. It is August, and I know this is Mongolia, but COME ON!!! So I decided it would be bad to go to church freezing cold and miserable, so I had lunch instead (ostensibly to dry off) and then slogged back to the apartment.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
It's been a week and a half since I got to Ulaanbaatar. I thought, before I got here, that I was mentally prepared for Mongolia (or as I like to call it, the Wild East - yes, I know it doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "wild west," get over it). Who knows, maybe I was. Mentally. On a visceral level, though, I don't think I knew what I was getting myself into.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
In about six hours I'll be taking my last ride out to the airport. Goodbye, gorgeous Latin men! Goodbye amazing Peruvian cuisine! And most of all, goodbye to the Evil One, my former partner-in-crime, moving forward into a life of wedded bliss (or will be as soon as the Boy can get his butt down here...consequentially, I am currently accepting applications for a new partner-in-crime. Minimum requirements: travel experience, sarcastic sense of humor, common sense, intelligence, and a love of reading. Candidates with temple recommends, y-chromosomes, and Latino heritage will be given preference. Please send a cover letter with CV and photo attached to firstname.lastname@example.org).
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
I hate going on "tours," and I kind of hate tourists. There is something obnoxious about someone blathering on and on when you just want to take in the scenery, snap photos, and make inferences in your own mind about what you're seeing. Not to mention the fact that standing around listening makes for tired feet. However, the ugly truth is that it is often cheaper and easier to join a tour than it is to find your own way to point B. Particularly in South America. This is how I ended up going on more tours in the last week than I have in the last five years.