chapter four - Wandering Aimlessly and Selling Milk

I remember it being dark. And I remember Jimmy yelling at us. It must be something hard-wired in people to increase the volume of your voice when speaking to either non-natives or deaf people. So when I say Jimmy was yelling at us, it was only so we could understand his Mongolian better. You’d be surprised to know that volume does nothing to help understanding. It just makes you grumpy.

Our problem now was where to find a new driver to get us from Murun to our last stop, Hatgal. Hatgal is a tiny town, much like Murun, that lies at the southern tip of Huvsgul Lake. But here’s the deal: zero people are conscious at 4 am, and to a certain degree that included us. We were informed that no buses would leave for Hatgal until 5 or 6 that evening. And Hatgal was only 4 hours away. Murun didn’t exactly look like the kind of hotspot that offered much outside of wandering aimlessly through the streets or selling milk. Besides, where were we to stay until that evening?

But good old Jimmy, being half businessman half rescuer, didn’t skip a beat. Although he hadn’t had a lick of sleep for 20 hours, he offered to drive us straight on through the morning clear to Hatgal, provided we let him stop quickly at his home in Murun to do whatever (change, wash, eat…). The price for this was haggled, discussed, haggled again and then finally agreed upon. A collective sigh of relief could be heard issuing from the back of the micro: thanks Jimmy. After getting gas we waited outside Jimmy’s home, or what we suspected to be Jimmy’s home, for a few minutes.

The sun came up enough to light up Murun while we waited. Murun is the place you land in and leave from when you are smart enough to take an airplane on your way to Huvsgul Lake. Murun is small and surrounded by mountains. And honestly, the part I said about wandering aimlessly or selling milk (for fun and leisure) is at least half true. I saw neighborhoods with houses rather than blocks of apartment buildings or poor ger districts. The neighborhood we were in that morning surprised me by its straight streets and high, well-built fences. I forget sometimes that not all cities and towns in Mongolia look like UB.

It wasn’t long before Jimmy was back in the driver’s seat, hunched over the steering wheel, chomping on the last bits of whatever kind of breakfast he must have found inside his home. Within minutes our little micro was hopping down the road towards Hatgal. We began passing fewer herds of sheep and goats and more herds of yaks. At one point we crossed a dry, impossibly rocky river bed. Jimmy told us something like 5 cars were suddenly swept away due to flash flooding as they attempted to cross this very same river bed not too many days before us. I looked up at the sky – not a cloud present.

Before you arrive in Hatgal you have to enter the Huvsgul Lake Park, and of course there’s a fee. At this point, we think were swindled. We didn’t’ know this at the time, but it should only cost 300 tugruk to enter – we were told, by Jimmy, that it was 3,000 - which we gave him, which he took to a guard shack. Moments later he was back with the guard who was incredibly disheveled and quite drunk (this was about 6 in the morning). The guard peeped in at us, mumbled something to Jimmy and then stumbled back to his shack. And that’s how we got into the park and an hour closer to Hatgal.

chapter three - Things You Don't See From An Airplane

Our trip to Murun took 20 hours. The fun thing about road tripping in Mongolia is that there are no roads to road trip on. They are more like dirt paths or sometimes tire tracks cut along through the countryside. There are no road signs, mile markers, rest stops…pavement. Think of the worst gravel road you’ve ever ridden on. Multiply the worseness by 10 or 15, add high speeds and maybe that will give you an idea of what the entire 20 hours was like.

No one got sick, though. And Jimmy didn’t get lost, not even at night.

Besides, we were able to see what you just can’t possibly see from an airplane: the incredible loveliness that is the Mongolian countryside. Herds and herds of goats, sheep, horses, camels, and yaks passed us by in succession. Broad, rocky mountains jutted up from deep green valleys. Icy blue creeks and rivers cut zig zag through the landscape. We drove through wide desert patches and sparse forest, past ger hashaas** and the very rare vehicle. We watched the sun set behind a row of tree topped mountains.

Somewhere around 10:30 or 11 at night we stopped at a solitary ger to the far northwest of the road-path we’d been following. This was the stop for our Mongolian busmates. Apparently, we made a good impression on them or perhaps they were just very nice people, but before we left them at their ger they hurriedly crammed some dried dairy products in our hands. The things tasted awful but it was a lovely gesture.

I used this brief stop to take out my contacts (having already learned to do so without a mirror) knowing that once we started bumping along the road again, any risk that existed of having my eye poked out on this journey would increase exponentially. Having your eye poked out is not, by the way, a good way to begin any vacation. Just as I was sliding my glasses on, Jimmy hopped up front and we were back rumbling along in our dusty microbus.

At about 4 am, the bus stopped. If you have ever seen the middle of nowhere, that’s where we appeared to be. I think we were all too jostled and groggy to be nervous about this. Jimmy unfolded himself from the front seat and came around to the back door. He slid it open and shouted in at us that we had arrived in Murun.




**culture note: ‘yurt’ is the very ugly but commonly used American word for ‘ger’. a ‘hashaa’ is a yard.

chapter two - Jimmy

There we were, three English people, one Norwegian/German and an American sitting quite pleased in the back of a microbus thinking the second part of our journey was about to begin. This was around 10 am. We expected to be out of Erdenet by 10:30 or 11.

We made a mysterious stop at some official building and our driver exited quite hurriedly and disappeared inside. To this we didn’t give much thought and continued whatever conversation we had been having. During this time I learned that Ed has an answer for everything – whether it is true is another matter. For example, when I asked the meaning of ‘dactyl gram’ (a random word that came up at English camp), Ed’s answer involved something about a winged dinosaur. Later he would explain to us about giant Mongolian moles and how Murun got its name.

About half an hour later, our driver returned sweaty and distracted and off we went. Not long after we had left the mysterious official building our driver parked the bus on the side of the main road next to some buildings and other microbuses. Suddenly there was a swarm of bus drivers hovering around us, peeking in through the windows and staring at us. Then some kind of argument erupted between our bus driver and another so he got out, taking the keys with him. We watched him walk away amid a scrambling group of drivers.

Thoroughly confused we sat and stared at each other wondering what was happening. Other drivers began calling English speaking friends in order to translate for us about the current goings on. Ed was given multiple phones and told there was some “problem” but was given no clarity as to what the “problem” was. Finally we somehow figured out that we could no longer take the bus we were currently in as our bus driver did not have the proper documents to make such a trip (hence the stop at the mysterious official building). We had to locate another driver and bus.

Enter Jimmy. Let me paint you a picture if I can: our next driver was nothing short of extraordinarily obese. Pudgy jowls, sausage fingers, man boobs, a belly that would put several sumo wrestlers to shame – our driver had it all. And if he wasn’t proud of much, he was absolutely proud of his belly. Many times we observed him hiking up his shirt to his chest and contentedly rubbing it like a pregnant woman**. Jimmy, by the way, is not his real name. It was the nickname bestowed upon him by us, linked to an English footballer who had a friend named Jimmy Five Bellies – so named for his extreme roundness.

At any rate, Jimmy became our new driver. So we yanked all our stuff from bus number one and stuffed it into Jimmy’s bus after discussing with him that the agreement should remain the same: us and three other people for the same amount. Jimmy seemed ok with this.

After what seemed like 800 different stops at various places to pick up various needs for our journey ahead (extra car battery, oil, spare tires, gas) and picking up not three, but six extra people, we were on our way to Murun.

It was 1:30 pm.




**culture note: Mongolian men – or just Asian men in general, will often hike up their shirts to chest/armpit level on hot days and spend the day walking around like that.

and now the other half...mostly.

preface: after some thought, i decided that the best way to describe my vacation experience is through a long, drawn out story divided into chapters. i could have summarized it very easily and saved myself the time, but what's the point of doing that when, at the moment, i've got all sorts of time and a blog? the following are the fruits of these particular circumstances:


Chapter One – The Train

Our journey to Huvsgul Nuur - or Huvsgul Lake to those not in the know - began in UB at the train station. Huvsgul Lake is in the north west corner of Mongolia. It’s one of the purest bodies of water in the world and the only body of water in Mongolia. I had just returned from a countryside English camp and had been at home long enough to shower and do laundry before I found myself with two young married couples on a train bound for a small mining town called Erdenet, our first stop to Huvsgul.

There were Ian and Elizabeth, a wonderful English/Norwegian/German couple, Ed and Charli – Charli being short for Charlotte – a sassy English twosome and me, the boring American fifth wheel.

Our train ride from UB to Edrenet was 12 hours and largely unadventurous as the majority of it passed during the night. I’ve never had a worst night’s sleep. My little bed was across the way from three large, snoring men who cut loose the moment their heads hit their pillows and didn’t stop until 6:30 am when we were woken by the stewardess coming down the isles saying “Bosooroi! Bosooroi!” (which is the polite way to say ‘Get up!’). Two hours later our train stopped in Erdenet.

We stumbled out of the traincar into a brilliant, sunny morning and a scattered hoard of taxi and microbus drivers looking for fares as the actual city of Erdenet was still another 15 minutes from the train stop. A rather flabby and sour looking taxi driver led us to a very tiny car; very insistent that we should have him drive us. There was no possible way 5 people plus baggage plus a driver could fit all at once into that vehicle, so we found a microbus driver who happily stuffed us into his bus and for a decent price took us to Patrick and April’s home.

Patrick and April are a Swedish/American couple with a very adorable daughter and a baby on the way who live and work in Erdenet. Arrangements were made earlier about visiting their home, having some breakfast and some kind of quick wash up before leaving for the next leg of our journey. When we arrived, we were welcomed with fresh pancakes, hot coffee and steaming water from the tap**. Nothing short of glorious!

Before entering Patrick and April’s abode we attempted to get our microbus driver to drive us to Murun (our next stop). We tried arranging it so it would only be our party in the bus as it is common for these microbuses to have five people crammed onto three person seats with babies, animals, baggage and other various things layered upon each other. The driver gave us some ridiculous quote for that kind of service so we said no and left it at that.

Upon exiting Patrick and April’s abode, we were met at the door by this same bus driver who explained that now he would take us and three other people for a much more decent price. We thought it was a good plan so we agreed. In retrospect, I think it was the pancakes talking. What happened next, I’m not even sure how to describe…




**culture note: hot water from the tap can be spotty here in Mongolia – sometimes you get it, sometimes you don’t.

half the camel has arrived

the end of june and the begining of july was a busy time. i spent two weeks teaching at an english camp and then went on a countryside road trip with some friends.

that being said, expect the following fun to ensue here on the TC:

1. a momentary hiatus from all posts regarding the topic of wisdom
2. a glimpse into my english camp adventures
3. a gigantic, chaptered story about my countryside road trip



let the fun begin...



english camp was two weeks in a korean built compound about 45 minutes outisde UB. 30-some collete students, 10 staff, a short term team of 5 from singapore, myself, a cook, and everything about 50 people needed for 14 days (including a washing machine) was crammed into a few buses, hauled out, unloaded and assembled for some english camp fun.

besides teaching 6 of the best students there (doka, byambaa, duluu, nomin, dariaa and eegii) i also played hopscotch, went for a hike**, watched movies, sang songs, ate my weight in soup and rice, nearly froze to death going to the bathroom,washing my hair, and brushing my teeth**, taught aerobics, made friendship braclets, shared the Gospel**, tried my hand at translation**, danced, told bed time stories, learned the meaning of 'bummery'**, gave a lecture on time management**, hugged lots of people, and fell backwards off the deep end of an empty pool.**


allow me to elaborate on the ** by sharing some commentary:

...hike** - this means we climbed up a big rocky hill and stood around taking lots of pictures of each other. however, as deflated as i may sound, i learned much about my students and their precious lives during this time.

...teeth** - it was cold during english camp. really cold. it snowed. twice. the toilets were outside as well as the spickets for washing ourselves and brushing teeth. i have never had a more torturous weeing experience. drafty doesn't even begin to describe it.

...Gospel** - after a week hanging out with each other, the FCS staff and students and singapore team presented the Gospel. which turned out well - it certainly changed many lives and made several extremely curious. one of my students chose Christ. one of them is scared to believe in God. and one of them wants to become a worship leader in the future (which is curious because he's not a christian currently...).

...translation** - this was during the Gospel presentation when an FCS staff was sharing. i felt bad for the singapore team not being able to understand anything so i listened as closely as possible and tried to summarize major chunks. at the time i thought i was doing pretty well. later, though, i found out 90% of what i told the singapore team was incorrect....no more translation for me.

...bummery** - i shared a room with 6 gals. one of them was an FCS staff person. for some reason we got on the subject of poop one day as we chatted together. i don't have the best mongolian and she doesn't have the best english, but it's nice to know that what draws us together is poop talk. i kept hearing her say 'i need a bummery' or 'i wanna bummery!' almost daily and didn't know what she was talking about, so i asked. she explained that saying 'i wanna bummery' basically means: 'i have to poop.' so now we have an inside joke between us involving this bummery phrase.

management** - not my strongest subject to lecture on, as a few of you know. but i had to.

...pool** - you know those trust falls you do with your friends? where someone stands behind you and you fall backwards into their arms? well, my friends at english camp took it a couple steps farther. we played a game one afternoon in teams. this game had various 'stations' all around the compound where you and your team would do a different activity. one of the games was a trust fall. two teams stood at the bottom of the deep end of an empty pool as each person from the teams fell backwards from about 7 feet into the waiting arms of the teams below. 7 feet doesn't sound like a lot, but it's massive when your falling backwards. i was not going to do it. i mean, i'm not some 90 pound mongolian girl who can bounce off your arms. i'm a lot of weight coming at you with a good amount of speed...the thought of perishing in such a way was just too overwhelming. but then, one girl was having an equally difficult time taking the plunge and before i knew it this came out of my mouth : 'if i do it first, will you do it?' to my horror, she said yes. so i lifted myself out of the pool, put my heels to the edge and fell. it was the worst thing i've ever done. i was caught and made it out alive and unparalyzed - but it was absolutely terrible and i hope i don't ever have to do it again. it then came to my friend's turn. she wobbled, she teetered, but in the end she never did fall. AH!

and that, my friends, is english camp in a nutshell. there's so much more i could tell you, but the other half of the camel is coming this way and i need to wrap it up.

i'm aware of how strange that sounds.

update - the normal way:

for the past three weeks i've been traversing the mongolian countryside. although this has offered me plenty of opportunities to see monoglia, it has somewhat stifled any ability to update the TC with the same amount of frequentness i previoulsy possessed.

but, an update is just around the corner. in case the three of you who read this were wondering.

i do it for you!

update - the silly way:

"my heavens!" blog-reader number one exclaims. "why the deuce hasn't alissa updated her blog? i am growing weary plodding along through daily newspapers and monthly magazines! i need a thirsty camel! i need a thirsty camel update now!"

"i feel similarly," agrees blog-reader number two. "where the devil has she gone off to during these most crucial times? i do hope she's ok."

"what are you blokes talking about?" interrupts non-important-third-person man.

"oh, non-important-third-person man! so happy you interrupted our conversation. i say, have you any idea about --" (non-important-third-person man walks away rather quickly).

"blast it! how much longer shall we wait for this thirsty camel update to arrive?" inquires blog-reader number two.

"i hope not long. i must have a wee quite soon," answers blog-reader number one.

"here, here!" blog-reader number two blurts out. "I should rather fancy a cup of tea now as i wait." he adds.

"a tea and a wee! sounds splendid my good man!" blog-reader number one replies.

"what's this? why, by the beard of zeus! i do believe that's an update coming our way! shouldn't be long now by the looks of it! how delightful!" blog-reader number two says as he looks off into the distance.

"oh, most splendid my good man! what excellent eyes you have! then let us have a quick tea, a quicker wee and the update should soon be upon us. one lump or two?" blog-reader number one says while holding up a sugar cube.

"two on the camel. one in my tea, thank you kindly. and don't forget i also take a spot of cream." blog-reader number two states.

"splendid!" blog-reader number one sighs.

"splendid!" blog-reader number two laughs.