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.
This morning was warm and sunny, so I didn't foresee that being a problem. I walked to the bus stop, where I saw a couple of cows wandering around. These are the same cows that were in the parking lot last week, and wandering cows seemed like such a bizarre thing to see (outside of India, at any rate). I took a couple of pictures of them, and was still waiting for the bus, so I gave the number listed on the meetinghouse locator a call. Presumably the bishop answered, and in answer to my question said that yes, it was right there where the website said it was. He mentioned something about the Chinggis Hotel, which I had NOT seen when I went on my reconnaissance mission last Saturday, but I hadn't looked that closely. Also, I had no way, at that point of figuring out what the hell he was talking about, so I went ahead and got on the bus. Which did not go exactly as planned.
See, after the bus went a slightly different route than I was expecting (which took me past one of the Korean restaurants my kyobo predecessor mentioned as being one of her favorites - see, I'm still seeing rainbows, baby!) this father and son got on the bus, and the kid was really cute, and I was trying to take his picture and sort of forgot to pay attention to where I was going (or, as my father would say, "My head was up my ass.") And so I didn't get off the bus where I meant to. A less adventurous individual would have gotten off at the next stop and gone back, but since Adventure is my middle name (or would be, if I added a few letters and changed my second "n" to an "r") I decided to ride it to the end and see where I ended up.
Which, as it turned out, was the 4th khoroo - a ger district in the far northwest of the city. I know this because I was tracking my movement on the map on my phone. I was not exactly thrilled when the bus driver made me get off and left me there with no idea where the next bus would pick me up, but a nice Mongolian man with a tall beer who spoke not a lick of English was trying to help me figure that out when another 12 bus (the one I'd come out on) pulled up, and - thanking him profusely - I got on the bus, which took me back to the place I'd meant to get off at in the first place, and I was only an hour an a fifteen minutes late. So I looked around for the building. And it was. Not. There. &#*@&^$&*#&$^*#YUY^*&^&*!!!!!!! The church's meetinghouse locator lied to me. I'm feeling very hurt and betrayed - now, instead of an easy walk and one bus ride to get to church I have no bloody idea how to get to effing Sansar. WHY THE HELL IS IT I NEVER ONCE IN MY LIFE AS AN EXPAT GET TO HAVE AN EASY TIME GETTING TO CHURCH!?! *#*$(%(*&#$!!! On the other end of the equation, I went back to Fire King (the Korean restaurant) and had a pretty good kimchi jjiggae for lunch, so it wasn't a total waste. Rainbows, people, rainbows.

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