So if you ever tell me you've been thinking, "Maybe it's time to get a master's degree," I - as a caring and concerned friend - may recommend you ask yourself a few more questions before proceeding. This week the question is, "Did you ever get over procrastinating?" When you've put off your assignment til the night before, and you get a headache, will you be able to push through the pain and do the work anyway? If not, are you tech savvy enough to deal with the inevitable issues that come up when you woke up at 5:30 to finish before school on a half-asleep brain? Because that is where I was this morning. I still managed to get 100% from a professor that I've heard is tough but excellent, but I just take that as proof that God really does watch out for fools and children.
This week you're getting a break from the art posts courtesy of Engrish. Although she was quick to explain that she and Blondie hadn't been to many cultural events while I was gone (because there really hadn't been any), she was even quicker to deliver one. Danshig Naadam is the religious flavor of Mongolia's manly sports festival, first celebrated in 1639 to commemorate my old buddy Zanabazar's elevation to the Peerage (or something like that...his title was Bogd Jebtsundamba Khutuktu rather than Sir Zanabazar, but you get the gist, right?)* This year the timing was pushed back to the beginning of September, which is good, because when I took Evil's niece in 2015 it was in August and too hot to really enjoy.
See, Tsam wasn't intended to be entertaining. It's not some crazy booty-shaking in fancy dress just for funsies...not that there's anything wrong with that. I personally enjoyed the hell out of exactly that during my years in Korea. But Tsam has spiritual significance, as was pretty apparent from my first look inside the Naadam stadium on Sunday. Across the field I could see an enormous applique thangka - a Buddhist devotional image - hung from the roof of the stadium and facing the field. According to its very short Wikipedia entry Tsam can be seen not only as religious instruction but also a form of meditation. Which makes sense, because the music is not exactly the rockin'-est beatz. Tsam dance moves to the sounds of cymbals and conch horns, the latter of which have a tendency to drone a little, and while it's not the kind of sound that will drift you off to Dreamland, there is something hypnotic about it.
On the other hand, it carries very well over a distance, and as Engrish and I left for the stadium from our rendezvous at the nearby shopping center, we were reassured that we were in the right place, and hurried on our way over.
I might have been a bit concerned we were missing the action, but the dance was in progress as I went in to claim some seats for us. Engrish joined me a few minutes later after waiting to hear from Blondie, so she got to see a little before the masked dancer left the field. I wondered if that was it, but before long, another dancer came out and performed, and eventually Blondie joined us and got to see it all for herself. It's possible that she may even have been a little grateful that she didn't see the entire dance, because...well. I'm just going to come out and say it: the dance is a little repetitive. Maybe the conch horns sound a little like butt-trumpeting. If it's enough for you to see just a glimpse of the dance, Tumen Ekh's daily performances are a wonderful opportunity to do exactly that.
But on the other hand...even though the seats in the stadium can't be considered comfortable by ANY stretch of the imagination, and the full dance seemed to stretch on a little, I didn't for a second wish I had missed the chance to experience it.
I was sitting in the shade on a cool, Sunday morning, with two of my favorite peeps, feasting on a culture I'd been largely cut off from the last two years. I was finally experiencing something I'd hoped to see for most of the years I lived in Mongolia. Sadly my dumb ass left the apartment without my Big Gun - I actually realized as I was walking out to get in the taxi, but I was worried about being late and also, I was lazy, so I didn't go back for it - so my photos were shot with my iPad. Sorry for that. Luckily after the dancing wound down the dancers came over to the altar set up in front of the thangka, so I got some decent shots anyways.
And THEN they handed out candy, and it was like a feeding frenzy. If you've never been to Mongolia, you have to understand that Mongolians love candy. It's not even that good chocolatey shit like we Americans hand out every Halloween...no these are just the hard candies like everyone's grandmother except mine keeps in a glass dish in their house. I didn't join in the battle royale, but one of the grandpas kindly shared with Engrish. It was sweet. The gesture, that is, not the candy...we were ready for some real food by this point, and maybe our Western culture has some deeply ingrained beliefs about accepting candy from strangers.
*Liberties taken with info reported by Montsame
The reason why I was REALLY looking forward to it is the fact that after five previous years in Mongolia I was still trying to see Tsam dancing. Okay, so to be fair, I'd seen it before, not only at Tumen Ekh but at an event the owner of my school invited me to attend at the National Museum of Modern Art, but...well, you know me. If seeing something is good, seeing it in its original context is even better. And the previous time I went to Danshig Naadam, we somehow missed the Tsam dance.
See, Tsam wasn't intended to be entertaining. It's not some crazy booty-shaking in fancy dress just for funsies...not that there's anything wrong with that. I personally enjoyed the hell out of exactly that during my years in Korea. But Tsam has spiritual significance, as was pretty apparent from my first look inside the Naadam stadium on Sunday. Across the field I could see an enormous applique thangka - a Buddhist devotional image - hung from the roof of the stadium and facing the field. According to its very short Wikipedia entry Tsam can be seen not only as religious instruction but also a form of meditation. Which makes sense, because the music is not exactly the rockin'-est beatz. Tsam dance moves to the sounds of cymbals and conch horns, the latter of which have a tendency to drone a little, and while it's not the kind of sound that will drift you off to Dreamland, there is something hypnotic about it.
On the other hand, it carries very well over a distance, and as Engrish and I left for the stadium from our rendezvous at the nearby shopping center, we were reassured that we were in the right place, and hurried on our way over.
I was sitting in the shade on a cool, Sunday morning, with two of my favorite peeps, feasting on a culture I'd been largely cut off from the last two years. I was finally experiencing something I'd hoped to see for most of the years I lived in Mongolia. Sadly my dumb ass left the apartment without my Big Gun - I actually realized as I was walking out to get in the taxi, but I was worried about being late and also, I was lazy, so I didn't go back for it - so my photos were shot with my iPad. Sorry for that. Luckily after the dancing wound down the dancers came over to the altar set up in front of the thangka, so I got some decent shots anyways.
And THEN they handed out candy, and it was like a feeding frenzy. If you've never been to Mongolia, you have to understand that Mongolians love candy. It's not even that good chocolatey shit like we Americans hand out every Halloween...no these are just the hard candies like everyone's grandmother except mine keeps in a glass dish in their house. I didn't join in the battle royale, but one of the grandpas kindly shared with Engrish. It was sweet. The gesture, that is, not the candy...we were ready for some real food by this point, and maybe our Western culture has some deeply ingrained beliefs about accepting candy from strangers.
*Liberties taken with info reported by Montsame
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