Short Circuit

The only phrase I think I use more than, "I really love my students," this spring is, "I can't believe this year is already over."  I used it more than once over this weekend, when the long-awaited trek into east Gobi finally happened.  Blondie's PA, Wild Ass (previously of Tashkent fame), schemed with her to take us out to Sainshand, which just happens to be Engrish's old digs, as well as on my list of places to see thanks to an enthusiastic endorsement by Lit and the fact that it's a Shambhala energy center.

Alright, first thing you need to know is that it's 1:30 in the morning.  I finished procrastinating, finished packing, and I'm now trying to knock this thing out before I leave for Khuvsgul.  So I'm perhaps not at my most witty (am I ever at my most witty when it doesn't involve some sort of phallus-related travel?  Probably not).  Okay, back to Sainshand.  Danzan Ravjaa is the guy to know in town.  He was a 19th century monk/intellectual, and was eventually proclaimed the Fifth Gobi Lord (there's a more technical term for it, but you're getting what you can understand, homeslice). Also, for some reason that I don't care about enough to figure out right now, his wisdom symbol is the scorpion.  Aww, hell - there are scorpions in the Gobi?  Why the hell didn't anyone tell me that before we ran off to the desert???

Khamaryn Khiid was DR's monastery, and before the communist purges, it was probably pretty cool to look at.  Ten years ago, when Engrish (who - true to her identity as a teacher of English - turns out to be a grammar nazi, and probably cringes at least several times during each blog post she reads...anyone want to guess how many mistakes I've made on this go round?) was last here, the stupa-ish building in the middle of the top picture was the only thing they'd rebuilt.  It's come along quite well since then.  I found it highly amusing that the monk had built a monument to his mother's breasts.  Yes, that's exactly what the above picture is of, although I can't tell you if the Stalinists tore these down or not.  They're kind of gross, though, since the offerings one is supposed to splash on the saintly Mrs. Ravjaa's ta-tas are milk (duh) and rice. 

The actual energy center was our next stop on the shambhala circuit - the real reason why people were crazy enough to set up shop out here in the first place.  I've seen photos of it before, and it was very gratifying to figure out what those pictures are of.  What exactly is an "energy center?"  Well, from what I can tell, exactly what it sounds like - a place where there's a strong presence of some sort of earth-based energy.  People were lying down on the ground to soak it in through their whole bodies.  The four of us discussed how long we would need to lie there to store enough energy to get us through the three kid-free wrap up days we had ahead of us, but since we hadn't brought a blanket to lie on, we didn't get to test it and see.

Like most holy sites in Mongolia, offerings are given - in this case, vodka and more rice - and wishes are made.  For the first time in a very long time, I didn't really have anything to wish for...although come to think of it, I still haven't become an elf, although a couple of my darling 9th graders were kind enough to tell me I looked like a character out of Lord of the Rings.  My hair is getting longer, but I'm afraid I still look more like an overfed goblin than an elf.  Probably because I haven't gotten off my lazy ass for much longer than it takes to get a coke out of my fridge and come back for another episode of Fairy Tail.

During the circumnambulation of the energy center, you should be on the lookout for a white stone that is the only stone that could possibly be yours.  When you finish the circuit, there's a pile of stones on which you're supposed to cast yours after speaking your full name and birth date to the stone.  I have no idea why - I'll have to ask Wild Ass for clarification on that one and let you know.

At our penultimate stop I learned that monks are, in essence, just a bunch of good ol boys after all.  That is the only explanation I can come up with for what Wild Ass told me went down around this part of the tour.  In these cliffs are a bunch of caves, and the monks would seal themselves in for three months as a part of their meditations.  For the first month, a bowl of soup was passed through a small hole in the rock.  For the second month, it was only water.  For the third month - nothing.  At the end of the third month, the other monks would come and unseal the cave.  Either the brother who had been meditating would be dead (in which case they sealed up the cave again and it became his tomb), or he would be floating off the ground, in a trance-like state.  It sounds like something the students who tried "Man vs Wild" as a science fair project last year would have come up with, if they were grown-ass monks. 

Moral of the story, because it's creeping up on two now and I want to sleep?  The desert is cool, but what the hell, people?  Out here I had sympathy for the biblical Children of Israel.  If this was the landscape stretching out in front of me, you bet your ass I'd have a whiny word or two to say to my fearless leader (especially if all we had to eat was manna and quail).  Maybe there's something to the whole energy center thing, to keep people out here.  Or maybe it's the fact that Mongolians have khuushuur, a treat I've managed to get Blondie hooked on. 

Medieval Munchies

Grub Club is officially disbanded for the summer, but I've got one food post left in me before I head off into the taiga...it's a little banquet put on by my rival for the 11th graders' affection called the Medieval Feast.  I spent the last month looking forward to it and trying to figure out what I could possibly wear that was sort of medieval.  Luckily one of the girls took my camera and snapped some pictures of the teachers.  I'm the second from the left, and although you can't see my long skirt or the belt that really made the outfit, I think I did pretty well!

Milady the Duchess of Gallifrey's herald...oh yes, we all had names.  I was the Princess Freedom of Justice (because apparently that's what we 'Muricans are known for), and I am happy to report that the only attendant of higher rank than myself was our principal.  The kids did everything - the food, the drinks, the entertainment, and yes, the titles, so I'm taking that to be a mark of their high esteem for me...possibly because I let them get away with murder.  Next year I plan to make them call me Princess.  Anyways, the herald announced each of the guests, who entered the banquet hall to be greeted with bows from the servants - which include a knight templar, a priest, and a serf (sorry, I don't remember the others).

Here you can see the Duchess, her herald, and one of her knights.  The serf was a lot of fun to tease - yea, he was a bit uppity, and I suggested that the Duchess give him a good fifty lashes, or mayhaps demote him to court jester.

I was pretty proud of my medieval dress until I saw what Mad Science came up with.  She was E____ of Arc, accompanied by faithful Patsy (complete with "coconuts") and she actually did it sounded like quite a bit of research into her armor and the undergarments that go with it before making the damn thing.  It made me sick with envy and at the same time gave me some ideas for the Halloween costume I decided to make for later this year.

The Duchess has shown them everything from Monty Python to a Knight's Tale to get them in the right mindset, and although some of the entertainment included traditional readings of Chaucer (including the bit in the Squire's Tale about our favorite pillager, Chinggis Khaan), My favorite was their performance of this courtly dance from Gelderland, accompanied by the mystical troubadour box which played a tune by Sir David of Bowie (oh yes they didst!)

But yea, verily I said this wast a food post, didn't I?  I should have been taking photos from the beginning but I only thought of it while I was working up the courage to try the main course.  Oh, we had a tangy delicious salad to start us off, and while I didn't care much for the soup I found the bread to be delicious.  We drank a sort of tea made from brewed apples, and then the main course came out.  I was pretty sure I knew what it was, but since I had never eaten it before, I figured there was no better time than the present, and with that first bite I knew it was liver.  It tasted exactly like cat food smells.  It didn't activate my gag reflex (which is saying a lot - raw broccoli activates my gag reflex!) but I could not get past that first bite.  It was followed shortly thereafter by an apple tart, though, and that was well worth the wait.

The Duchess was a little nervous - it is not easy to leave something this big completely in the hands of students, but if there were any students I'd give complete control to, it would be these guys (or the ones that have been my students this year, at any rate...they are fantastic).  I'd say I would miss them this summer, but honestly I think the summer will be over before I even fully realize I've left the country, and I BADLY need a break from the ones that I definitely WON'T miss.

The Awkwardest Show on Earth

The rest of the school year has gone by more quickly than this week.  Seriously.  I don't know if it's because finals have robbed me of my favorite students or what, but this week couldn't go by any slower.  And at its end?  A graduation that left me utterly cold.  It was a very well-done affair, and went off without a hitch, but I didn't feel connected to it at all.  I taught half the graduates over the last two years, but whether at the actual ceremony or at the dinner, none of them actually had anything to say to me.  A different group of graduates - affectionately known by some of their teachers as "the Shrews" - was warmer than that.  But this was probably my fault - I wasn't on the graduation committee, and it's possible that they felt that all of the hard work I did for the art program this year wasn't for them.  Whatever the case may be, it's over, and in less than two weeks I'll be flying off to Lake Khuvsgul, from whence I will trek out into the Mongolian hinterlands in search of the Tsataan - an ethnic group of reindeer herders living in the taiga on the Russian border.  So roll on, summer.

I've been to the circus in UB six times now, and every show's been different.  But whether it's the presence of animals, the caliber of performers, or the narrative quality of the show (Fire Legend is still my favorite!), there are acts in common.  Contortionism.  Acrobatics.  Clowns.  The usual.  Well, the Little Stars' Miracle circus we saw last week was truly unique.  It was a Russian circus (a fact that Engrish mourned when she figured it out at the show, because she is supposed to be boycotting all things Russian) and all the performers are midgets.  Or, as Blondie likes to call them, "small friends."  And let me tell you, our driver, Enkhaa, got a big laugh out of imagining us two Amazons at a midget circus.

GAME OF THRONES SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  In the fifth book, Tyrion gets captured and sold into slavery as a dwarf performer.  If the jousting midgets at his wedding made you uncomfortable, you can probably only imagine how humiliating his life as a performer must have been.  I cringed while I was reading it.  I probably should have realized than an actual dwarf performer circus would be no less awkward, but it took being in the crowd to realize it.  According to InfoMongolia, this is the world's only famous dwarf circus, and they were last here twenty years ago.  According to Engrish, Blondie, and I, these are the same performers.  They were not as...spry...as we've come to expect at the circus.

There were a lot of animal acts in this circus.  I was looking forward to the cat act, because I once saw a really good one on Youtube.  However, most of the stunts the cats did were things cats do naturally, such as weave between your legs while you are walking and climb up and down over things.  The thing that cats do NOT do naturally - jump through flaming hoops - the first cat wouldn't do.  He had a "F#(@ THIS $4!7!!!" look on his face.  The second one went ahead, but by then, the flames were almost out.

The clowns were probably the best act.  I giggled hysterically when one of them brandished a live rat at the audience, stuck it back inside his jacket, and then pulled out a fake one that he threw at the audience.  The most hysterical part though was when they stole Blondie's purse.  They'd done a disappearing act where one clown waved the blue curtain while the other one made balloons "disappear" into his pants.  He then came around the audience to give the balloons away...and stopped in front of Blondie (okay, he actually gave me the eye, but apparently he decided that my backpack was too much trouble).  He gave her his - as Blondie dubbed it, "clown crotch balloon," then snatched her purse and ran back into the ring, where he repeated the trick with her purse.  She may have been a little traumatized, mostly because she knew she couldn't throw her fake leather Target purse into the wash.

And then there was the act that traumatized me - midget belly dancers.  It was a little bit creepy - there was a bit of an ick factor because one of the male performers was wearing a turban and sitting there watching them before putting one of them in a box and sticking swords into her.  It also wasn't very good.  Belly dance no matter what your size is, and perform no matter what your talent may be, but if you're gonna take your show on the road, improve it.  I realize they're circus performers, not professional dancers, but it kind of bothered me that they put on cheap costumes and just shimmied.  Give me something that will dazzle me.

Just like last year's circus for children's day, this year's finale ended with bears.  Blondie and Engrish were a little concerned about our front row seats, envisioning the bears coming past and deciding that some plump, juicy white meat sounded nicer than the snacks that their trainers were handing out, but this didn't happen.  Instead we got to see bears riding bikes.  Bears playing basketball.  Bears proving they are smarter than your kids (yeah - they are).  And...yeah.  This happened.  Bears who get excited about their jobs.  'Nuff said.

I won't say that this was the most surreal night of my life, because I've seen some crazy shit, man, but it's up there.  I think the absolute normalcy that it was presented with is what made it so bizarre.  If they'd played up the weirdness, it wouldn't have been so awkward.  Maybe I'm a terrible person for wanting them to take what they are and run with it, but hell, I want everyone to take what they are and run with it, make it work for them, so I suppose that's not too discriminatory.  At any rate, it was an experience, and one that got a big reaction out of my students when I mentioned it the next day.

Happy Birthday, Buddha!

It really does seem hard to believe a year has already gone by since the last lantern festival.  Domestic Goddess, Fire Marshall, and Five have been off having adventures in other lands, yet it seems like we were just seeing them off to the airport.  My budding workaholism has really kept the days moving, and I've enjoyed it, but man oh MAN am I ready for a break!

I don't think there's a lot I can tell you about the lantern festival that I haven't already said last year.  It's in celebration of Visak Puja (sometimes known as Duichin Day) - the day when Buddha's birth, enlightenment, and death is celebrated.   However, I think my photos turned out better this year than last (probably because I took the photos myself instead of giving my camera away so I could help light the lantern).  I had great friends to hang out with, and if the weather was a little wet and cold, well, it made us appreciate the torches all the more.

Little Miss Catwalk and Champ lighting their torch.

Our lantern, filling up with hot air.

Getting ready to sail away.

Wishes floating away.

This has got to be the most magical moment of the year - thousands of lanterns floating up into the night.  Part of me wants to spend the next Duichin Day on top of Zaisan watching the lanterns rising from the stadium toward us.  This is one of those moments when it's impossible not to believe in magic. 

Grub Club: Gone but Not Pho-gotten

 Well, as you may have noticed, I've been MIA for a couple of weeks.  You can't say I didn't warn you - it has been an incredibly busy end of the school year, as predicted, but the real reason I haven't been writing is the fact that I've gone native.  In case you don't know, "going native" means that you adopt the habits or lifestyle of the local population.  Well, I've been spending a lot of time with teenagers, and one of my favorites used to watch an anime series called Fairy Tail during yearbook club.  Which made me curious enough to download it, and although I am a little embarrassed to admit it, I'm totally hooked, which has contributed to my neglect of my blog (a corner of the internet I considered my baby a year ago).

Wow.  A year ago.  Time flies.

Anyways, it was Champ's pick two times back, and she went with a pho (Vietnamese rice noodle soup) place on Baga Toiruu, across from Namaste.  I have no idea what it's called, but it was amazing.  As Engrish and I walked through the door the delicate aromas of lemongrass and whatever the hell else they put in pho hit our olfactory nerves, and decided for most of us that we were having either the chicken or beef pho.  We haven't been so similar in our choices since the night we went to German Doner.

Engrish had been here before with our small-footed friend, Five, and she said the fried spring rolls were great.  We asked for them but were told that they were bah-kwei.  We ordered the regular spring rolls - which were nice and refreshing - and then our waiter came back and said they could do the fried ones, and how many did we want?  So we had a lot of spring rolls, although I personally preferred the fried ones.

Engrish also had a salad, because apparently she's part rabbit.  It smelled amazing, and I may have snaked a couple of bites off her plate.  It had a really lovely citrusy/sesame-ey flavor, and I also may have been scooping little sips of dressing off her plate after she finished.  It was delicious food....however, the point was made that pho is not all that satisfying.  At least not on a warm day in Mongolia.

Grub Club: Gusto

Well, ya win some, ya lose some.  This week Little Miss Catwalk experienced that firsthand with her pick of Gusto.  It's an Italian restaurant on Beatles Street.  Personally, I think it's really hard to screw up Italian - pretty much every country I've lived in has had decent Italian, unlike Mexican, which seems to be really hard for people outside North America to get right.  And Gusto was not horrible, because as I said, it is REALLY hard to screw it up...but they seemed to be trying for all they were worth.

I started with a Greek salad, because they were out of caesar, and it was just about as good a Greek as I've had here - lots of feta, not a lettuce leaf to be found, and the dressing was not overpowering.  While waiting for it, the waiter walked past with bread for another table, and I decided we needed some bread, too.  This turned out to be my best decision of the night.  The garlic butter that came with it was the stuff of dreams.  However, it was downhill from there.  Their penne arabbiata didn't live up to my standards.  It wasn't bad, but it wasn't really right, either.

Blondie and Little Miss Catwalk each ordered pizza.  This was their margherita pizza, and as you can see it has neither slices of tomato nor leaves of basil.  Blondie reckons it was a frozen pizza. 

Champ ordered the tortelloni soup.  The tortelloni looked more like buuz, although they had pork in them rather than mutton, at least.  With only a few weeks left in the school year, we have to hope for a couple more wins before we head off our separate ways.

And speaking of the end of the school year - this week has been rough, and next week may not be any better.  Next year remind me not to plan so many big projects in the last month of school.  But there are lantern ceremony pictures to blog about one of these days, so don't give up on me yet.

Also, for the record, if you ever accidentally hit some keys on your laptop with your face while watching anime in bed and can't figure out how to unlock your mousepad...not that anything like that EVER happened to me...it's ALT+F9.  You're welcome.

Grub Club: L'Usine

So this is more than a week late.  I suppose it's a good commentary on my life, that I've been too busy to blog regularly, but I can't help being disappointed in myself.  Last year my blog was my baby, and I feel kind of like I'm neglecting it.  However, since I'm neglecting it in favor of real children - my ahmahzing students - I can't work up that much self-loathing.  If you taught them, you'd understand.

Anyhow, L'Usine was Squeaker's last Grub Club pick for the year.  It's a new French restaurant in the Regency Residence, just across the lobby from Mexikhan.  Last year when Fearless Leader took us to Le Triskell (HIS last pick, as it turned out), I said that picking a French restaurant is cheating.  In spite of the fact that L'Usine is completely different cuisine than Triskell or even Le Bistrot Francais, I stand by that statement.  Especially because the - owner?  Manager?  Whoever the guy running the show was, he was a smoking hot French guy, and even Blondie, who likes the French about as much as mouth breathers, agreed that he was a very fine looking specimen of manhood, which was, no doubt, part of the strategic rationale behind choosing this restaurant (well played, Squeaker, well played).

"Where's the beef?!"

L'Usine only just opened recently, and already was doing a pretty brisk business, but they have a few bugs to work out.  I was going to go for the chicken dish on their limited (albeit delicious) menu, but it was out.  Engrish thought their salad with beef sounded great, but was a little confused when she couldn't find the beef.  Turns out it was supposed to be "beets," which she said were much more delicious, anyways.  It was, however, lacking the nuts it promised, but the chef more than made up for it by bringing her a dish with lots of walnuts, pine nuts (which are worth their weight in gold here), and olives.

My biggest gripe was the fact that they didn't have coke.  Honestly - who serves pepsi outside the States and Vietnam?  I did a bad thing and helped myself to a couple of cokes from the convenience store in the lobby, which made my experience bearable.  I also had the croque monsieur and the French Onion soup (pictured at the top).  Originally I was only planning to have the sandwich, but Blondie's soup was so delicious that I had to have my own serving.

Champ ate half of Geek's special guest's food - a cheese thingy? - before she figured out that it wasn't her pot pie because it didn't have any meat.  She also ordered the onion soup because she thought her "pot pie" was not going to fill her up.  Then she figured out that that thing in the middle wasn't her pot pie, and when it arrived she realized she'd made a huge mistake.  Or possibly a wonderful one - some people do like leftovers, you know.

Little Miss Catwalk (formerly known as Wallflower) had a life-changing experience the previous week at Blondie's vegetarian cafe, and was never going to eat meat again, but since I didn't show up in a long red dress with black gloves (don't ask!) she ended up ordering this delicious fish dish (say that five times fast).  Or else she was kidding about the whole vegetarian thing. 

This grub club took place on the first of the month, which as my six regular readers may know, is a dry day in the great state of Mongolia.  You wouldn't have been able to tell that from our conversation on the taxi ride home.  For some reason Blondie and Little Miss Catwalk started using the word "butthole," and neither of them could stop.  Champ and I did our part, too, egging them on by laughing as if the many uses of the word "butthole" were the funniest thing in the world.  There are a great many reasons why I don't drink, but I think this car ride illustrates the best of them - I don't need to drink.  Life is hilarious and wonderful (not to mention I have few enough inhibitions) stone cold sober.  I feel really lucky to have friends that get that, whether they drink or not.

Now you'll have to excuse me - I need to get my butthole to bed, as I'm kind of sick and hope to be better for school tomorrow.