I thought it would be weirder being in the US, being in Illinois, but not being home. Turns out, it's not!
Melody greeted me at the door with a knife, Ethan greeted me at the door with a gun, and Travis greeted me at the door with his gut. (Travis: do I look like I gained weight? Me: no. Travis: really!? How bout now? *lifts shirt* Me: well yes if you show me!)
I love how Nate tries to be super suave and gets it wrong. Leaning against doorframe, hair all long and Bieber-like, "So, how was your time in Bulgaria?" "I don't know, I went to Mongolia."
Kim and Gloria went shopping while Travis, me, and the three youngest went bowling. I was killing for the first half, but then I got all bad and stuff, and Travis beat me by like, ten points. Dangit.
I forgot that I have never hung out with the Forsythes in the US. Until Ethan said he'd never been bowling before. And then when, this morning, he told me how he saw a squirrel, but thought it was a puppy, and Mel thought it was a kitty, and I nearly spewed my cereal, but instead I said very calmly, "Yes, squirrels do look like puppies..."
I meant to stay awake until nine, but as Mel and Ethan were showing me this crazy PS3 game called EyePets, I fell asleep at 6:30 on the couch. Later Mel tried to wake me up for something, and I heard Travis yell from upstairs, "Hey! Get away! Let her sleep!" And even later, Kim told me I should just go to bed, but I said, "Mphflurf?" and she brought me a blanket. Around 11:30 I did wake up enough to crawl into bed, where I slept until 10:30 the next morning.
16 hours! Woot! Hopefully I am mostly back on track.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Complaining Can Be Good!
Well, I have left Mongolia. As of yesterday, I was very sad to be leaving, but at the moment, I am pissed about many things, and am ready to be home.
Things that are making me grumpy:
1. It is like, 7:00 a.m., and I've had one hour of sleep.
2. I've already waited two hours in the UB airport, flown for three hours, and waited five hours in Seoul. My journey should almost be over, yes? NO. I still have to wait two hours in the airport, and then a soul-deadening thirteen and a half hour flight. UGH.
3. I feel gross. You'd think not showering or not changing clothes would be no big at this point, but I dislike it.
4. I wanted a cold frappachino to keep me awake and keep me cool (it's muggy even inside the airport at Seoul), and I waited until 7:00 for Caribou Coffee to open. I asked for a Turtle Mocha frappachino, which, YUM. But they don't make it as a frappachino. A smart person would have left and gone to Starbucks or anywhere with cold coffee. I am not a smart person, because now I stuck with a hot drink that is making me feel disgusting inside as well as out. And then I bought food, and thought, I'll buy cold food! But no, I bought something hot. Am I sabotaging my happiness!?
5. Mostly, though, I'm pissed because I really wanted to buy Hello Panda at the airport, and I cannot find it anywhere! Boooo.
So really, I'm not in that bad a mood. I've been watching YouTube videos, which keeps me entertained, and discovering The Civi Wars (attention, Joel, I think you will like them!), which keeps my ears and heart happy.
But! It is good to be dissatisfied, because it is giving me things to look forward to upon returning to the States, which keeps me from missing Mongolia too much.
One and a half more hours until the flight of doom.
Things that are making me grumpy:
1. It is like, 7:00 a.m., and I've had one hour of sleep.
2. I've already waited two hours in the UB airport, flown for three hours, and waited five hours in Seoul. My journey should almost be over, yes? NO. I still have to wait two hours in the airport, and then a soul-deadening thirteen and a half hour flight. UGH.
3. I feel gross. You'd think not showering or not changing clothes would be no big at this point, but I dislike it.
4. I wanted a cold frappachino to keep me awake and keep me cool (it's muggy even inside the airport at Seoul), and I waited until 7:00 for Caribou Coffee to open. I asked for a Turtle Mocha frappachino, which, YUM. But they don't make it as a frappachino. A smart person would have left and gone to Starbucks or anywhere with cold coffee. I am not a smart person, because now I stuck with a hot drink that is making me feel disgusting inside as well as out. And then I bought food, and thought, I'll buy cold food! But no, I bought something hot. Am I sabotaging my happiness!?
5. Mostly, though, I'm pissed because I really wanted to buy Hello Panda at the airport, and I cannot find it anywhere! Boooo.
So really, I'm not in that bad a mood. I've been watching YouTube videos, which keeps me entertained, and discovering The Civi Wars (attention, Joel, I think you will like them!), which keeps my ears and heart happy.
But! It is good to be dissatisfied, because it is giving me things to look forward to upon returning to the States, which keeps me from missing Mongolia too much.
One and a half more hours until the flight of doom.
Stories in Which I am Embarrassed and/or Mean
I am really going to miss Gany. In just three weeks, she has become a very dear friend, and I hope very much to see her many more times in the future, either in the US or in Mongolia. Or both!
On Monday morning, she knocked on my bedroom door at 9:00. She had just gotten back from her weekend retreat, was going home, and would be back at 2:30 to take me to a museum. I stretched grumpily in bed and replied, "These stupid flies are keeping me awake. I want to kill them! But I can't." She murmured in agreement and disappeared.
Later we rode the bus across the city to learn about Chinngis Khan and how George W. Bush is secretly her father. After going through the museum at the exact same pace (hurray that she is not a dawdler!) we returned home very slowly, stopping at one restaurant for khuushur, then another for coffee, and a last grocery store for ice cream.
In between, we were that group walking on the streets that is obnoxious to outsiders and deliciously fun to be a part of. What I mean is, we laughed uproariously, staggered into each other, loudly told stories and repeated lines even more loudly.
Among the stories told were how deathly afraid Gany is of bugs, and how once in her yard, she flung off her pants because a bug crawled inside. When she calmed down, she realized a neighbor boy was staring at her in shock.
I in turn reminded her of the night it rained at the orphanage camp, thereby cutting us off from our normal clothes-changing location (the front steps, which were pitch black by that time) and forcing me to change behind a crib. My pants would not come off quickly, and Gany had laughed at me, remarking that it's always when we want to be discreet that we are unable. When I finally leaped into my pajamas, I glanced over to see the three older boys staring at me.
Then we passed a guest house that advertised tank driving. We stared at each other in shock--surely not real tanks? I railed at her, saying she should have arranged for me to stay there so I could drive through the streets of UB in a tank.
She said I would probably end up a dictator, for these three reasons: 1. I throw children against steps, 2. I dress little boys inappropriately, and 3. I call children mean names. More stories are necessary.
1. One afternoon at the orphanage camp, two girls were sitting on me, one on each knee. I had accidentally bounced them like riding a horse, humming the William Tell Overture. They loved this, and made me repeat it ten times. This made my legs extremely tired, so as was my way of getting out of those situations, I pretended to need something from the room. But the girls wouldn't get off. I would pull one away and go for the other, but the first had already relatched herself to my knee. Eventually I just stood up, which caused one of them to fall backwards and bang her head against the stair edge. I made sure she wasn't bleeding copiously, said, "Uuchlarai! Sorry!" and ran into the room out of self-preservation.
2. Gany's accusation is not quite accurate. There was one toddler with the biggest, most adorable eyes in the world. The orphans don't tend to worry about masculine or feminine clothes, especially not hats, especially not for the littler kids. So I took a picture of him wearing a flowered hat (that's him in my arms in the picture on Facebook). Later they put a girly beaded head adornment on him, and he was so freaking adorable I took another picture. So no, I don't dress kids inappropriately, but yes, I do document the occasions on which I find them as such.
3. I only learned two of the orphan's names. Yes, that's horrible. But I had my own names for them, and while we were eating khuushur, I got their real names from Gany by telling her what I had named them. Some were at least nice, such as Big Eyed Toddler (previously mentioned) and Adorable Girl I Haven't Done Much With. Others were funny, such as Sleepy Potty Toddler and Girl I Slept Holding Hands. But yes, some were mean. BUT, I should point out that Gany immediately knew who I meant when I asked the names of Cranky Toddler and Annoying Girl.
It is maybe possible that Gany's joke in Tserig is true: I have gotten meaner in Asia. But no, I think I have always been mean. However, my meanness makes for hilarious sidewalk stories with friends.
On Monday morning, she knocked on my bedroom door at 9:00. She had just gotten back from her weekend retreat, was going home, and would be back at 2:30 to take me to a museum. I stretched grumpily in bed and replied, "These stupid flies are keeping me awake. I want to kill them! But I can't." She murmured in agreement and disappeared.
Later we rode the bus across the city to learn about Chinngis Khan and how George W. Bush is secretly her father. After going through the museum at the exact same pace (hurray that she is not a dawdler!) we returned home very slowly, stopping at one restaurant for khuushur, then another for coffee, and a last grocery store for ice cream.
In between, we were that group walking on the streets that is obnoxious to outsiders and deliciously fun to be a part of. What I mean is, we laughed uproariously, staggered into each other, loudly told stories and repeated lines even more loudly.
Among the stories told were how deathly afraid Gany is of bugs, and how once in her yard, she flung off her pants because a bug crawled inside. When she calmed down, she realized a neighbor boy was staring at her in shock.
I in turn reminded her of the night it rained at the orphanage camp, thereby cutting us off from our normal clothes-changing location (the front steps, which were pitch black by that time) and forcing me to change behind a crib. My pants would not come off quickly, and Gany had laughed at me, remarking that it's always when we want to be discreet that we are unable. When I finally leaped into my pajamas, I glanced over to see the three older boys staring at me.
Then we passed a guest house that advertised tank driving. We stared at each other in shock--surely not real tanks? I railed at her, saying she should have arranged for me to stay there so I could drive through the streets of UB in a tank.
She said I would probably end up a dictator, for these three reasons: 1. I throw children against steps, 2. I dress little boys inappropriately, and 3. I call children mean names. More stories are necessary.
1. One afternoon at the orphanage camp, two girls were sitting on me, one on each knee. I had accidentally bounced them like riding a horse, humming the William Tell Overture. They loved this, and made me repeat it ten times. This made my legs extremely tired, so as was my way of getting out of those situations, I pretended to need something from the room. But the girls wouldn't get off. I would pull one away and go for the other, but the first had already relatched herself to my knee. Eventually I just stood up, which caused one of them to fall backwards and bang her head against the stair edge. I made sure she wasn't bleeding copiously, said, "Uuchlarai! Sorry!" and ran into the room out of self-preservation.
2. Gany's accusation is not quite accurate. There was one toddler with the biggest, most adorable eyes in the world. The orphans don't tend to worry about masculine or feminine clothes, especially not hats, especially not for the littler kids. So I took a picture of him wearing a flowered hat (that's him in my arms in the picture on Facebook). Later they put a girly beaded head adornment on him, and he was so freaking adorable I took another picture. So no, I don't dress kids inappropriately, but yes, I do document the occasions on which I find them as such.
3. I only learned two of the orphan's names. Yes, that's horrible. But I had my own names for them, and while we were eating khuushur, I got their real names from Gany by telling her what I had named them. Some were at least nice, such as Big Eyed Toddler (previously mentioned) and Adorable Girl I Haven't Done Much With. Others were funny, such as Sleepy Potty Toddler and Girl I Slept Holding Hands. But yes, some were mean. BUT, I should point out that Gany immediately knew who I meant when I asked the names of Cranky Toddler and Annoying Girl.
It is maybe possible that Gany's joke in Tserig is true: I have gotten meaner in Asia. But no, I think I have always been mean. However, my meanness makes for hilarious sidewalk stories with friends.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Romance Lost and Also Church
Tsogi broke up with Gany on Monday night, which is why we waited until Wednesday to hang out with the orphanage kids (for those too unaccustomed to heartache to understand, she wanted a day to grieve). The kids provided a distraction, but now that we're back in UB, I think depression is setting in. And what better way to deal with boy pain than to hang out with your best friends?
As such, I have been abandoned as she and Anya go off to have a sleepover and a picnic tomorrow, to avoid him or the talk of him at church. I say abandoned with all forgiveness, because I can't think of anything worse than discussing your pain with your friends, then having to say it all over again to translate for your USian friend.
But it's all gotten me thinking. Gany and Tsogi seemed perfectly happy to me. I was completely surprised when I found out he had dumped her, and then outraged when I found out why. Apparently he doesn't think she loves him because she doesn't cling to him and call him all the time. What the what? I know that Mongolian boys tend to be more sensitive than USian boys, and also he is three years younger than Gany. But really? Boys want that possessive emotionalism?
Regardless of whether he is unusual or the norm, this breakup is only solidifying my cynical side. That is unfortunate, because a week ago, the two of them were reawakening my natural romantic side. I had been thinking Romantic Thoughts and dreaming of Romantic Possibilities.
Now I don't know. On one hand, I'm kind of pissed at myself for being so commitment-phobic. I want so badly to adopt a kid, and honestly, I'm several years past able. You only have to 18. But I am terrified of dating someone, let alone marrying someone, let alone taking care of a kid. So I want to open myself up, I want to believe in lasting relationships. But then a relationship I admire falls apart, and I just sort of close down.
Maybe this is an overreaction based on people I've really only known for a couple weeks. But it's just one more reason on top of others. And yes, of course, there are couples I admire, but how do you guarantee you get one of those? Seems like you can never really be sure of the future, of yours or your partner's or your child's. And I hate not knowing things. So. I guess I just blunder on?
..
I was left to my own devices both Saturday and Sunday. Duma picked me up Sunday morning to take me to church; she was a translator for the Heart Project at the Pauil's a couple years ago.
The praise band was incredibly sparse--just Galaa on guitar and the main girl singer. I guess everyone else (including Tsogi) was avoiding church. This is why relationships in a group of friends can be disastrous!
However, church was mostly very awesome! Chatty Johnny's father saw me, and sent the adorable little kid to sit with me. He proceeded to point out that my shirt was pink, that he was drinking juice, and then whisper/slobber into my ear.
As cute as he is, it was very difficult to concentrate, and I wanted to, because Doug (who allowed Gany and I to hang out with his VA team on that horseback riding adventure) was preaching on missions. This is the second time I've heard someone talk about how Mongolians seem divinely prepared to be super missionaries--they are natural nomads, and they can easily get into blocked countries such as China, because they are internationally seen as peaceful herders. Doug encouraged them to conquer the world like their ancestor Chinngis Khan-- but to conquer with the love and life of Jesus rather than to destroy and rule.
It was all very awe- inspiring, and he's leading a four day conference for their church starting Tuesday. I hope I can convince Gany to go.* After the service was over, I was pleased to realize that I have friends! Without the safety of Gany around, I still managed to stay after church nearly an hour, talking with Galaa and the guy I think Gany wanted to set me up with (not Chinguun...my word, too many boys). Also I posed for pictures when I noticed a large crowd of youth not-so-sneakily being paparazzi. And I talked to Doug for awhile, and played with Johnny a bit!
This is a little bit like home, and I've only been here three weeks.
*Ack! Of course I can't go! I leave Tuesday night. Because my flight is so late, nearly Wednesday morning, I've been thinking Wednesday, which became Wednesday night in my head. Gany just corrected me, and now I have lost a whole day in UB!
As such, I have been abandoned as she and Anya go off to have a sleepover and a picnic tomorrow, to avoid him or the talk of him at church. I say abandoned with all forgiveness, because I can't think of anything worse than discussing your pain with your friends, then having to say it all over again to translate for your USian friend.
But it's all gotten me thinking. Gany and Tsogi seemed perfectly happy to me. I was completely surprised when I found out he had dumped her, and then outraged when I found out why. Apparently he doesn't think she loves him because she doesn't cling to him and call him all the time. What the what? I know that Mongolian boys tend to be more sensitive than USian boys, and also he is three years younger than Gany. But really? Boys want that possessive emotionalism?
Regardless of whether he is unusual or the norm, this breakup is only solidifying my cynical side. That is unfortunate, because a week ago, the two of them were reawakening my natural romantic side. I had been thinking Romantic Thoughts and dreaming of Romantic Possibilities.
Now I don't know. On one hand, I'm kind of pissed at myself for being so commitment-phobic. I want so badly to adopt a kid, and honestly, I'm several years past able. You only have to 18. But I am terrified of dating someone, let alone marrying someone, let alone taking care of a kid. So I want to open myself up, I want to believe in lasting relationships. But then a relationship I admire falls apart, and I just sort of close down.
Maybe this is an overreaction based on people I've really only known for a couple weeks. But it's just one more reason on top of others. And yes, of course, there are couples I admire, but how do you guarantee you get one of those? Seems like you can never really be sure of the future, of yours or your partner's or your child's. And I hate not knowing things. So. I guess I just blunder on?
..
I was left to my own devices both Saturday and Sunday. Duma picked me up Sunday morning to take me to church; she was a translator for the Heart Project at the Pauil's a couple years ago.
The praise band was incredibly sparse--just Galaa on guitar and the main girl singer. I guess everyone else (including Tsogi) was avoiding church. This is why relationships in a group of friends can be disastrous!
However, church was mostly very awesome! Chatty Johnny's father saw me, and sent the adorable little kid to sit with me. He proceeded to point out that my shirt was pink, that he was drinking juice, and then whisper/slobber into my ear.
As cute as he is, it was very difficult to concentrate, and I wanted to, because Doug (who allowed Gany and I to hang out with his VA team on that horseback riding adventure) was preaching on missions. This is the second time I've heard someone talk about how Mongolians seem divinely prepared to be super missionaries--they are natural nomads, and they can easily get into blocked countries such as China, because they are internationally seen as peaceful herders. Doug encouraged them to conquer the world like their ancestor Chinngis Khan-- but to conquer with the love and life of Jesus rather than to destroy and rule.
It was all very awe- inspiring, and he's leading a four day conference for their church starting Tuesday. I hope I can convince Gany to go.* After the service was over, I was pleased to realize that I have friends! Without the safety of Gany around, I still managed to stay after church nearly an hour, talking with Galaa and the guy I think Gany wanted to set me up with (not Chinguun...my word, too many boys). Also I posed for pictures when I noticed a large crowd of youth not-so-sneakily being paparazzi. And I talked to Doug for awhile, and played with Johnny a bit!
This is a little bit like home, and I've only been here three weeks.
*Ack! Of course I can't go! I leave Tuesday night. Because my flight is so late, nearly Wednesday morning, I've been thinking Wednesday, which became Wednesday night in my head. Gany just corrected me, and now I have lost a whole day in UB!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Hanging With Orphans
The kids at the Light Orphanage are deceptive. They are smiley, helpful, and completely adorable. The older ones kiss and carry the younger ones. They all help set up dinners and bedtime. They are some of the best kids I've ever met.
It's easy to forget they are orphans. Their parents either died or abandoned them at the hospital because they could not afford to take care of them. Some of them are healthy, but one has a serious mental disorder and another has had major reconstructive surgery and therapy on her legs and arms. One has heart problems and another has lung problems, neither of which the orphanage can afford to preemptively fix.
When I first got to the camp where the orphanage spends three weeks every summer enjoying the fresh country air, I was mobbed by huggers and hand holders and lap sitters. I'm used to kids liking me, but not nearly that fast, before I even spoke to them. As cliche as it is, these kids are attention starved. They are well taken care of at this private Christian orphanage, but they are cared for en masse by three or four women at a time (for 19 kids). They rarely get the one-on-one attention they deserve.
I guess I think that is my job for these three days--to lavish them with attention, love, eye contact, and smiles.
..
Right after the verse where James says that religion that God finds pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress, he talks about how we shouldn't show favoritism. So of course while I took care of orphans, I struggled with favoritism. Hopefully I didn't show it too obviously, but I definitely had favorites.
My all time favorite was Usukhbayar. He is 10, and completely made of gangly boy limbs. He knows a few words in English, and delighted in learning to say "I love milk tea. I love Jesus. Good morning." He is one of the oldest kids there, and he happily takes care of the little kids, putting them on their potties, carrying them up mountains, or cleaning up after they eat/spill food all over the place. He loved to ask for my notebook so he could draw Disney princesses, and then we would play this hand clapping game for way too long.
Second was Amraa, who is all boy. He refuses to eat normally if a more interesting way is possible, and I was always about to take a picture of his awesomeness when one of the women in charge would scold him. This is why I will be a terrible mother. He is 7, and he has this wild smile that I found completely adorable.
Always I like the boys. The girls were super cute and very sweet, but the ones who stole my heart were boys. I want a bunch of boys. They're so much fun.
..
I have newly learned that I am a horrible person. Segi is 6 and she has a pretty severe brain condition. She can't talk, and she has to wear a diaper and be fed. She constantly mumbles, jerks her head around, or bangs her head on the floor. Even when she's clean, she smells of stale vomit, and the other workers mostly throw her in a corner so she won't burn herself or get into something she oughtn't.
I knew I should spend time with her. If Jesus is the least of these, then Jesus was in her. But I just didn't want to. Her hands were always sticky, she drooled, and I had to breathe carefully to avoid her odor. I hated myself for being so disgusted. I try so hard to be above social judgments, and what can be more pitiable than a mentally ill child?
My guilt did build up to the point that I went to her and just stroked her back for awhile. I don't think she gets much physical affection at all. Of course, when I did this one good thing, she latched on to me, and came up to me often, grabbing my hand and drooling on my pants. And not once, in three days, did I ever like her. I tried to pay attention to her. I knew that is what I ought to do. And even though I did spend some time with her, I'm ashamed to admit the majority of the time, I consciously chose to spend time with the healthy, happy kids rather than with her.
It does nothing to benefit that poor girl, but at least for me it was good to have my selfishness and sinfulness so obviously shoved in my face.
..
We all slept in one room, and slim mats were laid out in big sections, so we all kind of slept together. The first night, one girl found a bug in her bed, so she ran screaming to the adults, and she slept between me and a worker. In the moonlight, I saw her face turned toward mine, so I patted her hand. She grabbed it and held it with both of hers on her stomach, stroking my arm and playing with my fingernails until we both fell asleep.
..
The women who work at the orphanage are fine. More harsh than my "everyone is special" American mentality sometimes liked, but they take good care of the kids. The thing is, there is only so much of a relationship that can have with kids when you are taking care of 17 at once. Added to that, they only work eight hours a day. The kids don't have consistency in their adults. They don't have one on one affection and unconditional love.
I thought they had a pretty good situation at first, and definitely, this orphanage is far and above better than most. But none of that can compare to having two parents who love you, who will be with you every day of every week of every year, who will discipline you and hold you and kiss you and tell they love you.
These poor kids. I am definitey for sure 100% adopting. I wish more Christians would do the same. There really can be no greater gift than to take an orphan into your family.
..
I never knew it was possible for five kids to fit on my lap at once. Even though I knew my job was to love these kids, by Wednesday night I was dreading the following two full days with them. They were perfectly cute. But there were so many of them, and they all wanted my attention and my physical affection. It was exhausting! I took to hiding in the room for a few minutes of peace and quiet before they found me and demanded that I fly them like airplanes on my feet or hold them or pretend to be a marionette to their strings.
You'd think that God asking you to hang out with adorable kids for a few days would be easy, but for me? It was akin to roofing a house, how draining it was.
..
One of the things I wanted from this trip was confirmation about working in an orphanage, and I have to admit, I still don't know. I am more adamant than ever that it is Important Work. I am newly aware that it is incredibly difficult and emotionally draining, and that without the process of letting go of kids you come to see as your own but have to give up so they can have a real family.
So. I've also become more sure of how God works in my life. That adventures and next steps are not something to be rushed, that God set up this trip to Mongolia in such a cool way without needing my input. So what I've decided is that yes, I am open to orphanage work, but God will have to set it up. If I pursue it on my own power, I have no doubt that I will crumble under it's pressure. But if I wait for His timing, I think it will still be draining, but I will be able to endure.
Unti then, I get the feeling I will be in Peoria for awhile, at least a year or two more. But who knows? Now that I'm prepared for that possibility, God might change things up on me. That's all part of trusting Him, I guess!
It's easy to forget they are orphans. Their parents either died or abandoned them at the hospital because they could not afford to take care of them. Some of them are healthy, but one has a serious mental disorder and another has had major reconstructive surgery and therapy on her legs and arms. One has heart problems and another has lung problems, neither of which the orphanage can afford to preemptively fix.
When I first got to the camp where the orphanage spends three weeks every summer enjoying the fresh country air, I was mobbed by huggers and hand holders and lap sitters. I'm used to kids liking me, but not nearly that fast, before I even spoke to them. As cliche as it is, these kids are attention starved. They are well taken care of at this private Christian orphanage, but they are cared for en masse by three or four women at a time (for 19 kids). They rarely get the one-on-one attention they deserve.
I guess I think that is my job for these three days--to lavish them with attention, love, eye contact, and smiles.
..
Right after the verse where James says that religion that God finds pure and faultless is to look after orphans and widows in their distress, he talks about how we shouldn't show favoritism. So of course while I took care of orphans, I struggled with favoritism. Hopefully I didn't show it too obviously, but I definitely had favorites.
My all time favorite was Usukhbayar. He is 10, and completely made of gangly boy limbs. He knows a few words in English, and delighted in learning to say "I love milk tea. I love Jesus. Good morning." He is one of the oldest kids there, and he happily takes care of the little kids, putting them on their potties, carrying them up mountains, or cleaning up after they eat/spill food all over the place. He loved to ask for my notebook so he could draw Disney princesses, and then we would play this hand clapping game for way too long.
Second was Amraa, who is all boy. He refuses to eat normally if a more interesting way is possible, and I was always about to take a picture of his awesomeness when one of the women in charge would scold him. This is why I will be a terrible mother. He is 7, and he has this wild smile that I found completely adorable.
Always I like the boys. The girls were super cute and very sweet, but the ones who stole my heart were boys. I want a bunch of boys. They're so much fun.
..
I have newly learned that I am a horrible person. Segi is 6 and she has a pretty severe brain condition. She can't talk, and she has to wear a diaper and be fed. She constantly mumbles, jerks her head around, or bangs her head on the floor. Even when she's clean, she smells of stale vomit, and the other workers mostly throw her in a corner so she won't burn herself or get into something she oughtn't.
I knew I should spend time with her. If Jesus is the least of these, then Jesus was in her. But I just didn't want to. Her hands were always sticky, she drooled, and I had to breathe carefully to avoid her odor. I hated myself for being so disgusted. I try so hard to be above social judgments, and what can be more pitiable than a mentally ill child?
My guilt did build up to the point that I went to her and just stroked her back for awhile. I don't think she gets much physical affection at all. Of course, when I did this one good thing, she latched on to me, and came up to me often, grabbing my hand and drooling on my pants. And not once, in three days, did I ever like her. I tried to pay attention to her. I knew that is what I ought to do. And even though I did spend some time with her, I'm ashamed to admit the majority of the time, I consciously chose to spend time with the healthy, happy kids rather than with her.
It does nothing to benefit that poor girl, but at least for me it was good to have my selfishness and sinfulness so obviously shoved in my face.
..
We all slept in one room, and slim mats were laid out in big sections, so we all kind of slept together. The first night, one girl found a bug in her bed, so she ran screaming to the adults, and she slept between me and a worker. In the moonlight, I saw her face turned toward mine, so I patted her hand. She grabbed it and held it with both of hers on her stomach, stroking my arm and playing with my fingernails until we both fell asleep.
..
The women who work at the orphanage are fine. More harsh than my "everyone is special" American mentality sometimes liked, but they take good care of the kids. The thing is, there is only so much of a relationship that can have with kids when you are taking care of 17 at once. Added to that, they only work eight hours a day. The kids don't have consistency in their adults. They don't have one on one affection and unconditional love.
I thought they had a pretty good situation at first, and definitely, this orphanage is far and above better than most. But none of that can compare to having two parents who love you, who will be with you every day of every week of every year, who will discipline you and hold you and kiss you and tell they love you.
These poor kids. I am definitey for sure 100% adopting. I wish more Christians would do the same. There really can be no greater gift than to take an orphan into your family.
..
I never knew it was possible for five kids to fit on my lap at once. Even though I knew my job was to love these kids, by Wednesday night I was dreading the following two full days with them. They were perfectly cute. But there were so many of them, and they all wanted my attention and my physical affection. It was exhausting! I took to hiding in the room for a few minutes of peace and quiet before they found me and demanded that I fly them like airplanes on my feet or hold them or pretend to be a marionette to their strings.
You'd think that God asking you to hang out with adorable kids for a few days would be easy, but for me? It was akin to roofing a house, how draining it was.
..
One of the things I wanted from this trip was confirmation about working in an orphanage, and I have to admit, I still don't know. I am more adamant than ever that it is Important Work. I am newly aware that it is incredibly difficult and emotionally draining, and that without the process of letting go of kids you come to see as your own but have to give up so they can have a real family.
So. I've also become more sure of how God works in my life. That adventures and next steps are not something to be rushed, that God set up this trip to Mongolia in such a cool way without needing my input. So what I've decided is that yes, I am open to orphanage work, but God will have to set it up. If I pursue it on my own power, I have no doubt that I will crumble under it's pressure. But if I wait for His timing, I think it will still be draining, but I will be able to endure.
Unti then, I get the feeling I will be in Peoria for awhile, at least a year or two more. But who knows? Now that I'm prepared for that possibility, God might change things up on me. That's all part of trusting Him, I guess!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
I Stop Being Sad and be Awesome Instead
I am naturally a useless coward. When Roy users to have friends over, I would lock myself in my room for hours on end to avoid facial recognition or verbal contact. When I found out a high school or college class would necessitate more participation or oral reports than I was comfortable with (i.e. any at all), I would promptly head to my advisor's office to drop it and add a less stressful class in its place.
So today when Gany said she felt bad, so could we wait to go visit the orphanage kids in the countryside tomorrow, I agreed, though dreaded the long hours of safety in my elephant-wallpapered room. Until Anya asked for my rent payment so her mom could buy food, and I told her I didn't have enough. She had to go to work, and not knowing the extent of my cowardice, calmly asked if I could run to the bank. "Um? The bank? Like the ATM at the Chinngis Hotel?"
"Actually, there's another one you could use. Past the wrestling palace, you go east, and to the north--"
"Wait. Stop. That is not helpful."
After she carefully explained how to get to the TDB Bank, both verbally and theatrically, I left the apartment, armed with her mom's phone set to call Anya. I wandered the streets without names or signs, turning left and right and keeping a mental picture list ("remember to go through the playground, and turn at the green fence. Digital Photo Shop, remember the Digital Photo Shop"). I reached wrestling palace and crossed the busy street. If there's one thing I am proud of, it's my ability to cross busy streets with confidence.
And there is was! The TBD Bank! Unfortunately, after standing in line for a teller, I found out they only exchange tugrugs for dollars, and you can't withdraw dollars from your card. Off to the Chinngis Khan Hotel after all, which I totally knew how to get to by myself. I withdrew the necessary money, then stepped outside to survey my new kingdom. I breathed in the slightly dirty UB air and set off for the apartment with an adolescent boy swagger. I wanted to grab people by the shoulders and shout in their confused faces, "I am walking by myself! I am finding places! I am so independent! Do you see the awesomeness seeping out of my every pore? I am full of awesome!"
But I didn't. I figured that my tarnish my victory.
I gave the money to Anya's mom, then turned around to face the city once more, this time for a celebratory iced mocha at the UBean, and for the opportunity to brag on myself in my blog. I am awesome in the lamest ways.
So today when Gany said she felt bad, so could we wait to go visit the orphanage kids in the countryside tomorrow, I agreed, though dreaded the long hours of safety in my elephant-wallpapered room. Until Anya asked for my rent payment so her mom could buy food, and I told her I didn't have enough. She had to go to work, and not knowing the extent of my cowardice, calmly asked if I could run to the bank. "Um? The bank? Like the ATM at the Chinngis Hotel?"
"Actually, there's another one you could use. Past the wrestling palace, you go east, and to the north--"
"Wait. Stop. That is not helpful."
After she carefully explained how to get to the TDB Bank, both verbally and theatrically, I left the apartment, armed with her mom's phone set to call Anya. I wandered the streets without names or signs, turning left and right and keeping a mental picture list ("remember to go through the playground, and turn at the green fence. Digital Photo Shop, remember the Digital Photo Shop"). I reached wrestling palace and crossed the busy street. If there's one thing I am proud of, it's my ability to cross busy streets with confidence.
And there is was! The TBD Bank! Unfortunately, after standing in line for a teller, I found out they only exchange tugrugs for dollars, and you can't withdraw dollars from your card. Off to the Chinngis Khan Hotel after all, which I totally knew how to get to by myself. I withdrew the necessary money, then stepped outside to survey my new kingdom. I breathed in the slightly dirty UB air and set off for the apartment with an adolescent boy swagger. I wanted to grab people by the shoulders and shout in their confused faces, "I am walking by myself! I am finding places! I am so independent! Do you see the awesomeness seeping out of my every pore? I am full of awesome!"
But I didn't. I figured that my tarnish my victory.
I gave the money to Anya's mom, then turned around to face the city once more, this time for a celebratory iced mocha at the UBean, and for the opportunity to brag on myself in my blog. I am awesome in the lamest ways.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Ain't No Party Like a Tourist Party
There's this man named Doug who comes to Ulaanbaatar every summer, often leading mission teams from his hometown. Four others joined him in having a medical clinic in the Gobi this past week, and they also encouraged and taught the local church there and baptized 16 believers. Gany knows Doug, so when she found out he was taking his team to a ger camp, she said, "Can Tricia and I come too?" No one can resist Gany, so yesterday, we met the team (plus two Mongolian translators) at a hotel and rode in a microbus a couple hours to Terelj.
It is an absolutely gorgeous place, complete with a giant rock shaped like a turtle. And we had a girl-ger! With beds and sheets and pillows and stuff! And, best of all, there were actual toilets that you could sit on. Although I did get stuck in one, had to throw my body against the door, and then wait for Gany to find me and pull while I pushed. But I digress.
We ate khuushur after arriving at the camp restaurant. We were going to go horseback riding after eating, but it was raining, so we waited for it to blow over. Not much later, I got on a Mongolian horse and rode through mountains and plains so awesomely it deserved to be in a movie. Best place to ride a horse ever. And we had total control over the horse, though we mosty stayed in a group. I tried to get used to trotting without screaming, and even learned to stand up while trotting so as not to jolt my brain out of place. However, I tried nothing faster than a trot, because one guy on the team did, and he fell off. Oops.
We rode up to a temple, but instead of climbing a bazillion steps, I joined Gany and our 9-year-old guide in hunting for baby strawberries in the woods. They were delicious, and when we met up with the team half an hour latre, Doug asked if we'd picked any for them. I said, "We were going to, but...I ate them." That was a lie. I didn't even think of anyone else.
After riding back to camp, we at dinner, then congregated in the girl ger to sing John Denver (is that his name? I don't even know) songs and a Mongolian praise song in Mongolian. Gany and Gana (the boy translator) said I have a very good accent. Gany's been praising my language skills all trip, which I've waived off as ridiculous. But that leads me to some thoughts about the team.
I learned that yes, I do kick butt at language compared to other foreigners. Some of the team claimed they were too old to learn a nerw language, so they didn't try. Some seemed to think it was a game, shouting the words they learned when even I could tell it was wildly mispronounced. But mostly, I rock because I actually attempt the phlegmy sounds. I don't get why others...don't? They're pretty important. So yeah, ego boost to me.
I was also grateful to be traveling alone, because I've gotten to have a more authentic experience, I think. The team has been staying in hotels and dining in restaurants, whereas I am solitary enough to rent a room in a family's apartment, and I have a Mongolian friend to try street-food with. The team's ger experience was a sparse, clean, tourist ger with a full bathroom. My ger experience was seven people on beds and on the floor, cooking and dressing and sleeping all at once, with the bathroom being....anywhere you wanted.
And I love that even though I obviously stand out physically, I do not think I scream "tourist" simply because my companions are always Mongolian. I absolutely hated walking around with five other Americans, some with backpacks and cameras slung around their necks, and those big hats only tourists wear to avoid the sun. I felt fake and separate from Mongolia, as well as a huge target for pickpockets.
Oh! And also! (so I have more thoughts about the team than I realized) they are the sort of Christians that I knew existed, but never quite saw in action. For so long. They are the people who say "hallelujah!" when they reach the top of a staircase and legit give credit to God for allowing us to illegally try on Hun outfits before we found out we weren't supposed to. I just...think "hallelujah" is more sacred than staircases? And that God is probably bigger than supporting petty crime?
However, they also prayed about everything, and while I found it odd when Doug stopped to pray for one team member's nausea to settle, it was a kind of oddness that I admired. I want to learn from their spiritual action but not their rampant spiritual language.
Interesting experience.
It is an absolutely gorgeous place, complete with a giant rock shaped like a turtle. And we had a girl-ger! With beds and sheets and pillows and stuff! And, best of all, there were actual toilets that you could sit on. Although I did get stuck in one, had to throw my body against the door, and then wait for Gany to find me and pull while I pushed. But I digress.
We ate khuushur after arriving at the camp restaurant. We were going to go horseback riding after eating, but it was raining, so we waited for it to blow over. Not much later, I got on a Mongolian horse and rode through mountains and plains so awesomely it deserved to be in a movie. Best place to ride a horse ever. And we had total control over the horse, though we mosty stayed in a group. I tried to get used to trotting without screaming, and even learned to stand up while trotting so as not to jolt my brain out of place. However, I tried nothing faster than a trot, because one guy on the team did, and he fell off. Oops.
We rode up to a temple, but instead of climbing a bazillion steps, I joined Gany and our 9-year-old guide in hunting for baby strawberries in the woods. They were delicious, and when we met up with the team half an hour latre, Doug asked if we'd picked any for them. I said, "We were going to, but...I ate them." That was a lie. I didn't even think of anyone else.
After riding back to camp, we at dinner, then congregated in the girl ger to sing John Denver (is that his name? I don't even know) songs and a Mongolian praise song in Mongolian. Gany and Gana (the boy translator) said I have a very good accent. Gany's been praising my language skills all trip, which I've waived off as ridiculous. But that leads me to some thoughts about the team.
I learned that yes, I do kick butt at language compared to other foreigners. Some of the team claimed they were too old to learn a nerw language, so they didn't try. Some seemed to think it was a game, shouting the words they learned when even I could tell it was wildly mispronounced. But mostly, I rock because I actually attempt the phlegmy sounds. I don't get why others...don't? They're pretty important. So yeah, ego boost to me.
I was also grateful to be traveling alone, because I've gotten to have a more authentic experience, I think. The team has been staying in hotels and dining in restaurants, whereas I am solitary enough to rent a room in a family's apartment, and I have a Mongolian friend to try street-food with. The team's ger experience was a sparse, clean, tourist ger with a full bathroom. My ger experience was seven people on beds and on the floor, cooking and dressing and sleeping all at once, with the bathroom being....anywhere you wanted.
And I love that even though I obviously stand out physically, I do not think I scream "tourist" simply because my companions are always Mongolian. I absolutely hated walking around with five other Americans, some with backpacks and cameras slung around their necks, and those big hats only tourists wear to avoid the sun. I felt fake and separate from Mongolia, as well as a huge target for pickpockets.
Oh! And also! (so I have more thoughts about the team than I realized) they are the sort of Christians that I knew existed, but never quite saw in action. For so long. They are the people who say "hallelujah!" when they reach the top of a staircase and legit give credit to God for allowing us to illegally try on Hun outfits before we found out we weren't supposed to. I just...think "hallelujah" is more sacred than staircases? And that God is probably bigger than supporting petty crime?
However, they also prayed about everything, and while I found it odd when Doug stopped to pray for one team member's nausea to settle, it was a kind of oddness that I admired. I want to learn from their spiritual action but not their rampant spiritual language.
Interesting experience.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Byamba and Sarangoo
We ate a breakfast of fried dough, yak butter, and milk tea at the stranger's house before leaving at 8:30. We drove back out to the forested middle of nowhere that had been unoccupied last night, and thankfully, the Samaritan's Purse family was there! It was the first time I visited someone in a ger. There were a million flies outside, but the stove in the ger kept out most of them, so after wandering and taking some pictures, I took refuge inside with the drying yoghurt (which, along with horse milk, is also not my favorite).
The kids were less outgoing, but equally adorable. When the girl who had heart surgery realized Gany would be taking pictures of her, she sorted through a barrel for a cuter outfit and had her sister redo her braids.
We only stayed for an hour or so, and after praying with them, we got in the car. Which had a dead battery. I assumed we were doomed, but Gunee and the father of the family had it going in just a few minutes.
After more driving and stopping at random gers to ask for direction, we arrived at Byamba and Sarangoo's ger around 2:00. They knew we were coming sometime around this time of July, so every day they were ready for us to come! I gave them the gifts from the Paulis and the letters from the Wrights. They were super excited, and asked about Woodland. They showed me the photo album that Steve and Candie had put together of their time in the States. It was so weird to see pictures of Woodland in the middle of a steppe in Mongolia! I admit, it made me kind of homesick.
I met some of Byamba's other children and her adorable grandchildren. Her other daughter was just accepted into art university, and Byamba gave me a bunch of the pictures she had drawn and painted.
Of course, we were given lots of milk tea, horse milk, and dried yoghurt. I fell asleep for awhile, but woke up when Gany and four of the grandkids came screaming in. They had been super hesitant around me at first, but once we played the "You Scare Me and I Scream" game way past its expiration point, they loved me. Also, the youngest kid was naked the whole time, and it made me super uncomfortable. I kept imagining being sued for wrong touching or the whole hygienic aspect of it, and...I am still USian at my core, I guess.
They slaughtered a goat and we all sat around outside and gnawed on it's legs. I threw the fat to the dog. Then Gany and I set off to take pictures of the yaks grazing, and a bunch of the kiddos came along. We forded a stream and tried to sneak up on a baby yak, but that was unsuccessful. We skipped back, and sang, and I was once again reminded of how much easier it is to connect with kids rather than adults when there is a language barrier.
When it got cooler, I wrapped my scarf around my shoulders, and the youngest girl went and got a towel to wrap around hers. Cutest thing ever. Several of the men played volleyball in a circle, and once it got dark, Gunee took me out to the horses, where they were being milked. So weird.
Byamba laid out blankets on the floor of her ger, so Gany, Gunee, Gunee's brother and I slept there. Gany and I woke up last, at 9:00. We were served a huge breakfast, and Sarangoo hurried outside because some traders had just come by. She traded a lot of her mom's dried yoghurt for a pair of pants, which was her promised birthday present from March 19.
We were going to pack up the truck, but found out Byamba was cooking for us. So only one hour after breakfast, we had rice and goat seasoned with garlic. And oh my word, it was delicious. I ate so much, and wished I were actually hungry so I could eat more. We finished eating around 10:30, then had to say goodbye. It was actually very sad. I didn't expect to feel so close to them, but seeing familiar faces in a strange country is a powerful thing.
Luckily, I was coming up on three days of not showering and barely changing my clothes, so the thought of a shower made our parting far easier.
We drove back to Tsetserleg, dropped off Gunee's brother and picked up one of his female relatives who wanted to go to Ulaanbaatar. We got coffee from the lovely Fairfield hotel, and the long drive back to UB was relatively uneventful, except for when we hit a bump so hard my coffee flung itself all over the back of the driver's seat and we knocked off a front head light. Ah, Mongolian traveling!
The kids were less outgoing, but equally adorable. When the girl who had heart surgery realized Gany would be taking pictures of her, she sorted through a barrel for a cuter outfit and had her sister redo her braids.
We only stayed for an hour or so, and after praying with them, we got in the car. Which had a dead battery. I assumed we were doomed, but Gunee and the father of the family had it going in just a few minutes.
After more driving and stopping at random gers to ask for direction, we arrived at Byamba and Sarangoo's ger around 2:00. They knew we were coming sometime around this time of July, so every day they were ready for us to come! I gave them the gifts from the Paulis and the letters from the Wrights. They were super excited, and asked about Woodland. They showed me the photo album that Steve and Candie had put together of their time in the States. It was so weird to see pictures of Woodland in the middle of a steppe in Mongolia! I admit, it made me kind of homesick.
I met some of Byamba's other children and her adorable grandchildren. Her other daughter was just accepted into art university, and Byamba gave me a bunch of the pictures she had drawn and painted.
Of course, we were given lots of milk tea, horse milk, and dried yoghurt. I fell asleep for awhile, but woke up when Gany and four of the grandkids came screaming in. They had been super hesitant around me at first, but once we played the "You Scare Me and I Scream" game way past its expiration point, they loved me. Also, the youngest kid was naked the whole time, and it made me super uncomfortable. I kept imagining being sued for wrong touching or the whole hygienic aspect of it, and...I am still USian at my core, I guess.
They slaughtered a goat and we all sat around outside and gnawed on it's legs. I threw the fat to the dog. Then Gany and I set off to take pictures of the yaks grazing, and a bunch of the kiddos came along. We forded a stream and tried to sneak up on a baby yak, but that was unsuccessful. We skipped back, and sang, and I was once again reminded of how much easier it is to connect with kids rather than adults when there is a language barrier.
When it got cooler, I wrapped my scarf around my shoulders, and the youngest girl went and got a towel to wrap around hers. Cutest thing ever. Several of the men played volleyball in a circle, and once it got dark, Gunee took me out to the horses, where they were being milked. So weird.
Byamba laid out blankets on the floor of her ger, so Gany, Gunee, Gunee's brother and I slept there. Gany and I woke up last, at 9:00. We were served a huge breakfast, and Sarangoo hurried outside because some traders had just come by. She traded a lot of her mom's dried yoghurt for a pair of pants, which was her promised birthday present from March 19.
We were going to pack up the truck, but found out Byamba was cooking for us. So only one hour after breakfast, we had rice and goat seasoned with garlic. And oh my word, it was delicious. I ate so much, and wished I were actually hungry so I could eat more. We finished eating around 10:30, then had to say goodbye. It was actually very sad. I didn't expect to feel so close to them, but seeing familiar faces in a strange country is a powerful thing.
Luckily, I was coming up on three days of not showering and barely changing my clothes, so the thought of a shower made our parting far easier.
We drove back to Tsetserleg, dropped off Gunee's brother and picked up one of his female relatives who wanted to go to Ulaanbaatar. We got coffee from the lovely Fairfield hotel, and the long drive back to UB was relatively uneventful, except for when we hit a bump so hard my coffee flung itself all over the back of the driver's seat and we knocked off a front head light. Ah, Mongolian traveling!
Mostly Stories of Going to the Bathroom
During breakfast at the hotel, I met one half of the owners, a Christian woman from Australia who, with her husband, wanted to serve God overseas but didn't know what they were qualified to do. Through a missions organization, they decided to buy this hotel, hire Mongolian workers, and encourage the local church. Needless to say, I immediately fell in love with her and took heart from her story.
After we had packed up and were waiting outside for Gunee to pick us up (he is from Tsetserleg, so he stayed with his family, and in fact brought his younger brother along for the rest of our adventure), I chatted with two guys from Germany. At first I liked them, because they said, "We decided to go to Mongolia while we are young. When we are old, then we can go to easy places like Spain.". But then they started complaining about the Mongolian roads and how the Roman empire had made a great road system in a thousand years, so why hadn't Mongolians? I tried suggesting a few reasons, but they waved them off, and I was highly disgusted by their Western pride and superiority.
We set off a little before noon, and spent nearly all of our driving time on dirt roads and dirt ruts, with three foot deep craters and water that had to be forded. I also had an even more interesting bathroom experience. The thing about Mongolia is, even though there are mountains, the huge stretches of land between them are incredibly flat, with no rocks or trees to hide behind. So when we took our bathroom break in the middle of nowhere, the guys went to one side of the car, and Gany and I took a handful of toilet paper and headed off to the other side. We walked about 100 yards away, but the thing about grassy plains is that distance only makes your bare ass smaller, not invisible. We could only rely on Boy Scout promises that no one would look at you as you dropped trou.
After five hours of bouncily driving through the countryside (how do they know where they are or where they're going? It's amazing!), we arrived at a little town where the first Samaritan's Purse family lived. Their little girl, around five or six, had heart surgery in Ulaanbaatar last September, and now she is jumping around with her brother, showing off her dance moves, and hamming it up for Gany's camera.
Mongolian people are extremely generous to their guests. We were given milk tea in bowls (which I have since come to really like) and a cookie bowl was passed around. I took a whole one, then realized everyone else had just taken the broken off pieces. Oops. The cookie was filling, but then they passed around a candy bowl, a bread bowl, and finally, individual bowls of stew. And we had just stopped to eat lunch a little over an hour earlier!
I find that I very much prefer Mongolian visiting to Senegalese. As I expected, I feel more comfortable in Asian/Mongolian culture. While it's acceptable to be a little loud and crazy, that is not the norm. It's totally okay to sit in silence. People don't clamor to talk to you, and the whole event is far more peaceful.
Before we left, Gany and I went to the bathroom (anywhere with walls is my new preference). Except when we went in the outhouse, it is made for multiple people at the same time. Not wanting to look rude by spinning around and walking out on Gany, we squattie pottied together. I am learning new levels of non-privacy.
We arrived at our one-room-hotel's town around 8:00, but the owners were at a special picnic indefinitely (HAHAHA what!?) so we decided to find the second Samaritan's Purse family. This led to a wild goose chase in which we picked up random people, found empty houses and gers, and drove all over the place into the dark. It would have been an adventure, except I was always one and a half steps behind on our plan. I learned that adventures are only fun when you are aware of what adventure you are on.
At 11:00, the last guy to jump into our truck offered to let us sleep at his house. We sat in his family's living room/bedroom/dining room until Gunee asked if I was tired. I accidentally said yes, and a rug was rolled out in the center of the floor. I was completely mortified by the idea of curling up to sleep in the middle of the room while everyone else continued to watch TV and chat. Gany must have sensed my discomfort (my keening "I don't know what to do!" probably helped) because she unrolled both our sleeping bags, and we both crawled in. It was awkward enough, but it was made worse by Gany psyching me out. After a few minutes, when she thought I was asleep, she got back out of her sleeping bag and continued talking with everyone.
And that's how I slept in a stranger's house, ten in one room, without a pillow, in my clothes and contacts, dreaming of a gorilla chasing me through a grocery store.
Question: was anyone offended when I said "ass" earlier? I thought about using "bare bottom" or "naked behind" but neither of those seemed to convey the awkwardness and crudeness of the situation. I hope no one thinks I am a heathen; I just believe in words being symbols of meaning, and I wanted to crudely symbolize an awkward piece of anatomy.
After we had packed up and were waiting outside for Gunee to pick us up (he is from Tsetserleg, so he stayed with his family, and in fact brought his younger brother along for the rest of our adventure), I chatted with two guys from Germany. At first I liked them, because they said, "We decided to go to Mongolia while we are young. When we are old, then we can go to easy places like Spain.". But then they started complaining about the Mongolian roads and how the Roman empire had made a great road system in a thousand years, so why hadn't Mongolians? I tried suggesting a few reasons, but they waved them off, and I was highly disgusted by their Western pride and superiority.
We set off a little before noon, and spent nearly all of our driving time on dirt roads and dirt ruts, with three foot deep craters and water that had to be forded. I also had an even more interesting bathroom experience. The thing about Mongolia is, even though there are mountains, the huge stretches of land between them are incredibly flat, with no rocks or trees to hide behind. So when we took our bathroom break in the middle of nowhere, the guys went to one side of the car, and Gany and I took a handful of toilet paper and headed off to the other side. We walked about 100 yards away, but the thing about grassy plains is that distance only makes your bare ass smaller, not invisible. We could only rely on Boy Scout promises that no one would look at you as you dropped trou.
After five hours of bouncily driving through the countryside (how do they know where they are or where they're going? It's amazing!), we arrived at a little town where the first Samaritan's Purse family lived. Their little girl, around five or six, had heart surgery in Ulaanbaatar last September, and now she is jumping around with her brother, showing off her dance moves, and hamming it up for Gany's camera.
Mongolian people are extremely generous to their guests. We were given milk tea in bowls (which I have since come to really like) and a cookie bowl was passed around. I took a whole one, then realized everyone else had just taken the broken off pieces. Oops. The cookie was filling, but then they passed around a candy bowl, a bread bowl, and finally, individual bowls of stew. And we had just stopped to eat lunch a little over an hour earlier!
I find that I very much prefer Mongolian visiting to Senegalese. As I expected, I feel more comfortable in Asian/Mongolian culture. While it's acceptable to be a little loud and crazy, that is not the norm. It's totally okay to sit in silence. People don't clamor to talk to you, and the whole event is far more peaceful.
Before we left, Gany and I went to the bathroom (anywhere with walls is my new preference). Except when we went in the outhouse, it is made for multiple people at the same time. Not wanting to look rude by spinning around and walking out on Gany, we squattie pottied together. I am learning new levels of non-privacy.
We arrived at our one-room-hotel's town around 8:00, but the owners were at a special picnic indefinitely (HAHAHA what!?) so we decided to find the second Samaritan's Purse family. This led to a wild goose chase in which we picked up random people, found empty houses and gers, and drove all over the place into the dark. It would have been an adventure, except I was always one and a half steps behind on our plan. I learned that adventures are only fun when you are aware of what adventure you are on.
At 11:00, the last guy to jump into our truck offered to let us sleep at his house. We sat in his family's living room/bedroom/dining room until Gunee asked if I was tired. I accidentally said yes, and a rug was rolled out in the center of the floor. I was completely mortified by the idea of curling up to sleep in the middle of the room while everyone else continued to watch TV and chat. Gany must have sensed my discomfort (my keening "I don't know what to do!" probably helped) because she unrolled both our sleeping bags, and we both crawled in. It was awkward enough, but it was made worse by Gany psyching me out. After a few minutes, when she thought I was asleep, she got back out of her sleeping bag and continued talking with everyone.
And that's how I slept in a stranger's house, ten in one room, without a pillow, in my clothes and contacts, dreaming of a gorilla chasing me through a grocery store.
Question: was anyone offended when I said "ass" earlier? I thought about using "bare bottom" or "naked behind" but neither of those seemed to convey the awkwardness and crudeness of the situation. I hope no one thinks I am a heathen; I just believe in words being symbols of meaning, and I wanted to crudely symbolize an awkward piece of anatomy.
Heading to Greener Pastures
Off to the countryside! We bought a cartload of snacks for us (Gany, me, and our driver Gunee) as well as a cartload of basic foods for the three families we will be visiting. It took nearly an hour to get out of the city, but by 1:30 we were officially out of Ulaanbaatar.
Road trips in Mongolia are quite different from USian travels. For one, the roads are worse even than Illinois roads after snow plows. We were on paved roads most of the time, but every once in a while the road would be blocked off for construction or something, and we had to take incredibly bumpy detours. I think it might have even been crazier than Travis driving down barely existent roads outside Fatick.
For two, the general laid-backness of Mongolians means pit stops and side shows are no big deal. We stopped for lunch (khuushur again...greasy goodness) at a couple stands set up in the middle of nowhere. Turns out it was the finish point of the Naadam horse races that day. We drove on, and 22 kilometers later, we saw the starting point. We stopped to watch them take off, so I guess I've officially seen one of the Naadam sports.
A couple hours later there was a random strip of sandy desert type landscape. It was a tourist haven, because there were camels to ride for only 2,000 turegs! (That's less than $2) Gany convinced me to ride one. I can now definitively tell the world that it is far easier to ride a two-hump camel than a one-hump. It's also super fun to be led around by an adorable five or six-year-old kid. Gany walked behind me, taking pictures. I felt a little like a celebrity.
But the real experience at that stop was the bathroom. A ways away from the road there were three nylon sides of a square that only went maybe two and a half feet high. Inside the square was an Abyss of Nastiness. There were two strips of metal for your feet, but if you made a misstep, there was a serious chance of stumbling into the Abyss of Nastiness. Once you get situated on the metal strips, you have bend over just to pull down your pants, unless you want to moon the world. Most intense squattie pottie I have yet experienced.
About an hour from our destination, we stopped at a ger that some of Gunee's family lived in. We sat outside on a rug and drank horse milk (which is sour and disgusting, but is a special delicacy if you like that sort of thing) and urum (not so bad--tastes like tortillas soaked in sour cream juice). We stayed there half an hour before heading to our final destination, a really nice touristy hotel in the city of Tsetserleg.
For three, (remember how this is a list?) a road trip through the Mongolian countryside is far more aesthetically pleasing than driving down I-55. The world is all blue and green and brown. The flat plains and the treeless mountains are not striking or majestic...they're just beautiful. And really peaceful.
Staring out the window at the gorgeous landscape that stretches forever impressed upon me the immensity of God, like how the ocean does that for water-inclined people. God, as revealed through his creation, just seemed so big and so beautiful, and all my insecurities and desires seemed insignificant in comparison.
I've been thinking about how to be in God. To stop doing, to stop proving myself and earning earthly applause, and to just be. To learn about God, to try be like Jesus, to grow by the Holy Spirit. I think if I focused on being with God and being like God, then all those good deeds and saving the world actions would flow from that internal change, but without the pride and selfishness.
This trip has been difficult to summarize. It's not a mission trip, and it's not a vacation. It's just life, being lived in Mongolia for three weeks. Seeing the wildness and beauty of the Mongolian countryside made me want to live a big life, unhindered by labels or categories.
God gave me the opportunity to come here. I came. Things are happening, relationships are continuing and starting. My mind and my spirit are expanding. And isn't that enough? Isn't that the point of life?
Road trips in Mongolia are quite different from USian travels. For one, the roads are worse even than Illinois roads after snow plows. We were on paved roads most of the time, but every once in a while the road would be blocked off for construction or something, and we had to take incredibly bumpy detours. I think it might have even been crazier than Travis driving down barely existent roads outside Fatick.
For two, the general laid-backness of Mongolians means pit stops and side shows are no big deal. We stopped for lunch (khuushur again...greasy goodness) at a couple stands set up in the middle of nowhere. Turns out it was the finish point of the Naadam horse races that day. We drove on, and 22 kilometers later, we saw the starting point. We stopped to watch them take off, so I guess I've officially seen one of the Naadam sports.
A couple hours later there was a random strip of sandy desert type landscape. It was a tourist haven, because there were camels to ride for only 2,000 turegs! (That's less than $2) Gany convinced me to ride one. I can now definitively tell the world that it is far easier to ride a two-hump camel than a one-hump. It's also super fun to be led around by an adorable five or six-year-old kid. Gany walked behind me, taking pictures. I felt a little like a celebrity.
But the real experience at that stop was the bathroom. A ways away from the road there were three nylon sides of a square that only went maybe two and a half feet high. Inside the square was an Abyss of Nastiness. There were two strips of metal for your feet, but if you made a misstep, there was a serious chance of stumbling into the Abyss of Nastiness. Once you get situated on the metal strips, you have bend over just to pull down your pants, unless you want to moon the world. Most intense squattie pottie I have yet experienced.
About an hour from our destination, we stopped at a ger that some of Gunee's family lived in. We sat outside on a rug and drank horse milk (which is sour and disgusting, but is a special delicacy if you like that sort of thing) and urum (not so bad--tastes like tortillas soaked in sour cream juice). We stayed there half an hour before heading to our final destination, a really nice touristy hotel in the city of Tsetserleg.
For three, (remember how this is a list?) a road trip through the Mongolian countryside is far more aesthetically pleasing than driving down I-55. The world is all blue and green and brown. The flat plains and the treeless mountains are not striking or majestic...they're just beautiful. And really peaceful.
Staring out the window at the gorgeous landscape that stretches forever impressed upon me the immensity of God, like how the ocean does that for water-inclined people. God, as revealed through his creation, just seemed so big and so beautiful, and all my insecurities and desires seemed insignificant in comparison.
I've been thinking about how to be in God. To stop doing, to stop proving myself and earning earthly applause, and to just be. To learn about God, to try be like Jesus, to grow by the Holy Spirit. I think if I focused on being with God and being like God, then all those good deeds and saving the world actions would flow from that internal change, but without the pride and selfishness.
This trip has been difficult to summarize. It's not a mission trip, and it's not a vacation. It's just life, being lived in Mongolia for three weeks. Seeing the wildness and beauty of the Mongolian countryside made me want to live a big life, unhindered by labels or categories.
God gave me the opportunity to come here. I came. Things are happening, relationships are continuing and starting. My mind and my spirit are expanding. And isn't that enough? Isn't that the point of life?
First Taste of Culture Shock
I got up like normal and grabbed some milk to make a bowl of cereal in my room. Anya's mom came to my door and said something that included the word "breakfast." I figured she meant she would make breakfast, so don't eat. I knew that would take awhile, so I took a shower and started getting ready. Half an hour later, Anya came to my door and said, "My mother wants you to eat with us." Oops. I went into their room and saw the coffee table already laden with meat, bread, apples, and milk tea.
We watched some of the Naadam wrestling on TV, and I talked to Anya for an hour or so. I really like the pace of life here. Get up around 9:00, eat breakfast around 10:00. Eat lunch between 2:00 and 3:00. Have fun etc until you eat dinner at 8:00 or 9:00, then go to bed sometime after midnight.
Gany picked me up, and we walked to her Samaritan's Purse office to use WiFi. Then we took a bus downtown and ate a streetside meat pastry lunch. A couple days ago we bought tickets to see Transformers 3, so we returned to the most awesome movie theater in the world.
It was there that I experienced my first bout of culture shock. We stopped by the restrooms before watching the movie, and it was crazy crowded, and you basically have to push your way to a stall. Then we got in line for popcorn, and once more people just push their way to the counter. Then we got in line to enter the theater, and again with the pushing. I hated it.
However, the movie was good. It was my first time watching a movie in 3D, and while it was enjoyable, I don't think it's the best way to watch a movie.
With my first unenjoyable Mongolian experience combined with a bit of homesickness from watching an American movie set in Chicago, I was in a bad mood to join eight of the youth group in cramming into Boggi's truck and driving to an apartment to get blankets, a store to get food, and another store to get cups. Everyone was laughing uproariously, and neither Gany nor Anya bothered to translate.
That feeling where you're in a crowd, literally smooshed in a backseat with five other people, but you feel invisible? That's not a fun feeling. We got to a riverside campfire by 9:15, and everyone else continued to have a good time while I just sat on the blanket and stared into the fire. I guess after four days of performing and being outgoing, I was out of juice. It didn't help that none of the Mongolian youth I had become friends with were a part of this inner circle.
A couple hours later, we drove to the same hill we climbed on Sunday. And finally, a break! Three of them left, leaving just me, Gany, Anya, Tsogi, and Chinguun. People finally talked to me, we took some pictures of the city by night, and then hiked down the hill and along the streets.
I was in a much better mood, but then things got awkward. Chinguun had apparently felt bad for me back at the campfire, worried that I was bored (which is nice and all, but intentions don't matter if there's no action to back it up!), so he carried on a conversation with me via Anya the translator. And she is a dangerous translator.
He asked what I liked about Mongolia, and I said I like the youth group a lot. When she repeated it in Mongolian, everyone laughed, which I thought was weird. A couple minutes later she told me, "I said that you really liked the young people, especially him!" And so it continued, with her making flirty comments from him and asking if I found him attractive, and what!? There is no easy answer for that.
Needless to say, although I was glad to be talked too, I was really grateful when we finally caught a cab and made it back to the apartment at 1:30 in the morning.
We watched some of the Naadam wrestling on TV, and I talked to Anya for an hour or so. I really like the pace of life here. Get up around 9:00, eat breakfast around 10:00. Eat lunch between 2:00 and 3:00. Have fun etc until you eat dinner at 8:00 or 9:00, then go to bed sometime after midnight.
Gany picked me up, and we walked to her Samaritan's Purse office to use WiFi. Then we took a bus downtown and ate a streetside meat pastry lunch. A couple days ago we bought tickets to see Transformers 3, so we returned to the most awesome movie theater in the world.
It was there that I experienced my first bout of culture shock. We stopped by the restrooms before watching the movie, and it was crazy crowded, and you basically have to push your way to a stall. Then we got in line for popcorn, and once more people just push their way to the counter. Then we got in line to enter the theater, and again with the pushing. I hated it.
However, the movie was good. It was my first time watching a movie in 3D, and while it was enjoyable, I don't think it's the best way to watch a movie.
With my first unenjoyable Mongolian experience combined with a bit of homesickness from watching an American movie set in Chicago, I was in a bad mood to join eight of the youth group in cramming into Boggi's truck and driving to an apartment to get blankets, a store to get food, and another store to get cups. Everyone was laughing uproariously, and neither Gany nor Anya bothered to translate.
That feeling where you're in a crowd, literally smooshed in a backseat with five other people, but you feel invisible? That's not a fun feeling. We got to a riverside campfire by 9:15, and everyone else continued to have a good time while I just sat on the blanket and stared into the fire. I guess after four days of performing and being outgoing, I was out of juice. It didn't help that none of the Mongolian youth I had become friends with were a part of this inner circle.
A couple hours later, we drove to the same hill we climbed on Sunday. And finally, a break! Three of them left, leaving just me, Gany, Anya, Tsogi, and Chinguun. People finally talked to me, we took some pictures of the city by night, and then hiked down the hill and along the streets.
I was in a much better mood, but then things got awkward. Chinguun had apparently felt bad for me back at the campfire, worried that I was bored (which is nice and all, but intentions don't matter if there's no action to back it up!), so he carried on a conversation with me via Anya the translator. And she is a dangerous translator.
He asked what I liked about Mongolia, and I said I like the youth group a lot. When she repeated it in Mongolian, everyone laughed, which I thought was weird. A couple minutes later she told me, "I said that you really liked the young people, especially him!" And so it continued, with her making flirty comments from him and asking if I found him attractive, and what!? There is no easy answer for that.
Needless to say, although I was glad to be talked too, I was really grateful when we finally caught a cab and made it back to the apartment at 1:30 in the morning.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Naadam Opening Ceremonies and Movieish Night
Naadam! The celebration of Mongolia's awesomeness. More specifically, the celebration of 2,220 years since the Huns, 805 years since the Great Mongolian Empire, 100 years since Mongolian independence, and 90 years since the Mongolian Revolution.
Anya and I were picked up by some staff from the Samaritan's Purse, and we met up with the team from Australia at the stadium at 7:30 a.m. We had to wait in line for a hour and a half before we could enter the stadium, and then we sat for another two hours before the Opening Ceremony began at 11:00.
All that waiting gave me plenty of time to get to know Emily, a nurse who loves to travel and will soon be visiting Istanbul, and Laura, a former Journeygirl to Afghanistan who obviously has some really fantastic stories to tell.
The Opening Ceremony was just as good, if not better, than the Olympics. It lasted two hours. There were soldiers standing guard over Ghengis Khan's nine flags the entire time, while the world's awesomest marching band routine went on around them. Okay, not exactly a marching band, but music was played while hundreds of little kids made lines and stars on the field and danced. Then the Mongolian horde ran out onto the field, posed in fighting stances, and did their own routine. They ended organized into the symbol on the Mongolian flag while some horde in silver and gold came out and danced to Mongolian rap. Let me tell you, dancers have never looked so fierce.
The president spoke, there were national instruments, and important people and important symbols paraded around the track circling the field. It was fantastic and colorful, and I totally get why the Mongolians have so much pride.
We left before the wrestlers came out, because there are 1,024 of them, and it is only interesting in the finals (according to Anya and Gany, who joined us at noon). There were hundreds of little food stands set up outside the stadium, very much like a state fair. We ate some more khuushuur, the delicious fried bread/meat/onion fast food thing. Gany and I got stick on tattoos of the Mongolian flag. Then we separated from the Australian team and joined the insanely compact crowd that was heading back to the city proper.
We caught a bus that took us into the city suburbs, called the ger district, which could easily be called slums. It took nearly an hour to get out there, what with Naadam traffic being so ridiculous, but eventually we arrived at Gany's father's house. They fed us a ton of food, and I didn't eat enough to satisfy them, but luckily Gany assured them she could eat enough for both of us.
We only stayed for maybe an hour before taking two of her cousins with us to Galaa's house for a youth group movie night. I found out that Johnny (formerly Chatty Johnny) is Galaa's little brother, which means their family is made up of my favorite people that I've met so far, which is fun. Their apartment is USian nice, and when Galaa asked if I had brought my iPad, he told me they had wireless. What!?
Johnny curled up in my lap while Galaa showed me some music and gaming apps to get. Then we watched some clips from a weirdly hilarious cartoon Galaa likes. By then, more of the youth group had shown up, so I mingled in the living room. Anar speaks English really well, so we talked for awhile. Then another girl whose name I don't know taught me a whole slew of Mongolian words, and several people gathered around to laugh at my attempts and correct me and sometimes, to praise me.
As I am beginning to realize is the norm, someone brought out the guitar, so I started a dance party. As I do. Dance transcends all language. Some kids went put to buy Ramen around 8:30, and I played the fast hand slapping game with Galaa. I like him because he treats me as one of the group, making fun of me and being very handsy (as they all are with each other). So he's cute and my love language is touch. What's a girl to do? If that girl is me, she kicks the boy, because Galaa was hand slapping unnecessarily hard, right on my sunburnt hand. So I yelled, "OW!" and kicked him in the shin. But he just grinned, petted my hand, and slapped me again.
When the Ramen was cooked, he put his arm around my shoulders and pointed to Gany and Johnny and said, "Look at their mouths. It is funny." Which of course made me super self-conscious about slurping my own Ramen, especially when the girl who was teaching me Mongolian returned for lesson #2. Let me just say, practicing all those back-of-the-throat guttural sounds with noodles in your mouth? Is a really good way to projectile spit your food on your audience.
A projector was set up (yeah, I'm sayin'--the kid is rich), and we were going to watch a movie, but something wasn't working right. Eventually Anya supplied her iPhone, but the only movies she had on there were Bible movies in Mongolian. Since it was already after 10:00, Gany, Tsogi (her boyfriend, have I mentioned him yet? He's very nice) and I walked home.
I'm really proud of the fact that after being here four days, I was able to spend five hours at a party and only hang out with Gany for a minimal amount of time. I do far better at assimilating on my own than with a team.
Anya and I were picked up by some staff from the Samaritan's Purse, and we met up with the team from Australia at the stadium at 7:30 a.m. We had to wait in line for a hour and a half before we could enter the stadium, and then we sat for another two hours before the Opening Ceremony began at 11:00.
All that waiting gave me plenty of time to get to know Emily, a nurse who loves to travel and will soon be visiting Istanbul, and Laura, a former Journeygirl to Afghanistan who obviously has some really fantastic stories to tell.
The Opening Ceremony was just as good, if not better, than the Olympics. It lasted two hours. There were soldiers standing guard over Ghengis Khan's nine flags the entire time, while the world's awesomest marching band routine went on around them. Okay, not exactly a marching band, but music was played while hundreds of little kids made lines and stars on the field and danced. Then the Mongolian horde ran out onto the field, posed in fighting stances, and did their own routine. They ended organized into the symbol on the Mongolian flag while some horde in silver and gold came out and danced to Mongolian rap. Let me tell you, dancers have never looked so fierce.
The president spoke, there were national instruments, and important people and important symbols paraded around the track circling the field. It was fantastic and colorful, and I totally get why the Mongolians have so much pride.
We left before the wrestlers came out, because there are 1,024 of them, and it is only interesting in the finals (according to Anya and Gany, who joined us at noon). There were hundreds of little food stands set up outside the stadium, very much like a state fair. We ate some more khuushuur, the delicious fried bread/meat/onion fast food thing. Gany and I got stick on tattoos of the Mongolian flag. Then we separated from the Australian team and joined the insanely compact crowd that was heading back to the city proper.
We caught a bus that took us into the city suburbs, called the ger district, which could easily be called slums. It took nearly an hour to get out there, what with Naadam traffic being so ridiculous, but eventually we arrived at Gany's father's house. They fed us a ton of food, and I didn't eat enough to satisfy them, but luckily Gany assured them she could eat enough for both of us.
We only stayed for maybe an hour before taking two of her cousins with us to Galaa's house for a youth group movie night. I found out that Johnny (formerly Chatty Johnny) is Galaa's little brother, which means their family is made up of my favorite people that I've met so far, which is fun. Their apartment is USian nice, and when Galaa asked if I had brought my iPad, he told me they had wireless. What!?
Johnny curled up in my lap while Galaa showed me some music and gaming apps to get. Then we watched some clips from a weirdly hilarious cartoon Galaa likes. By then, more of the youth group had shown up, so I mingled in the living room. Anar speaks English really well, so we talked for awhile. Then another girl whose name I don't know taught me a whole slew of Mongolian words, and several people gathered around to laugh at my attempts and correct me and sometimes, to praise me.
As I am beginning to realize is the norm, someone brought out the guitar, so I started a dance party. As I do. Dance transcends all language. Some kids went put to buy Ramen around 8:30, and I played the fast hand slapping game with Galaa. I like him because he treats me as one of the group, making fun of me and being very handsy (as they all are with each other). So he's cute and my love language is touch. What's a girl to do? If that girl is me, she kicks the boy, because Galaa was hand slapping unnecessarily hard, right on my sunburnt hand. So I yelled, "OW!" and kicked him in the shin. But he just grinned, petted my hand, and slapped me again.
When the Ramen was cooked, he put his arm around my shoulders and pointed to Gany and Johnny and said, "Look at their mouths. It is funny." Which of course made me super self-conscious about slurping my own Ramen, especially when the girl who was teaching me Mongolian returned for lesson #2. Let me just say, practicing all those back-of-the-throat guttural sounds with noodles in your mouth? Is a really good way to projectile spit your food on your audience.
A projector was set up (yeah, I'm sayin'--the kid is rich), and we were going to watch a movie, but something wasn't working right. Eventually Anya supplied her iPhone, but the only movies she had on there were Bible movies in Mongolian. Since it was already after 10:00, Gany, Tsogi (her boyfriend, have I mentioned him yet? He's very nice) and I walked home.
I'm really proud of the fact that after being here four days, I was able to spend five hours at a party and only hang out with Gany for a minimal amount of time. I do far better at assimilating on my own than with a team.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Climbing a Mountain. Hill.
Mongolia is similar to other slow-paced countries where people mostly travel by public transportation--nothing happens at an exact time. You just show up whenever you can.
I thought I was going to Bible study with Anya at 9:00, but since she didn't wake up until five minutes after that, I figured that was off the table. We ended up going to church at 10:45. We took a cab and saw a military escort of tanks, showing off for Naadam. Anya is pretty cool. I think it'll be fun to live with her.
The church service was unique today because they were having a rededication service for their development building. A team from the Australian Samaritan's Purse (which helped fund it) was here. The kids from the orphanage performed some songs, Scripture memorization, and acrobatics. The teen whose idea it was to start helping local kids was commissioned and prayed over. It was all very cool.
Afterward, I got out of my anti-social bubble and talked to some of the other team in UB from Virginia and some of the Mongolian youth. When Gany was still singing with the youth elsewhere, I went to find a quiet place to play with my iPad. A boy who is my favorite, Galaa, came and said, "Give me your iPad," and he promptly did more with it than I knew was possible. A few minutes later, the instruments were put away, and ten of us headed to the bus stop.
We rode to the end of town, where we got 'Mongolian McDonalds,' which is a hot meat pastry thing called khuushuur. Youth are the same everywhere, apparently, because we played hand games and pushing games and the human knot while waiting for the food. We walked to a park to eat it, then hiked a tourist mountain. It is a tourist mountain because there are steps. And tourists.
Most of them know a little English, and as we became friends, they were more comfortable trying it out on me. One girl named Enkhtuya sang praise songs with me and taught me some Mongolian vocabulary. At the top we took jumping pictures, famous the world over. Then we sat on a step and sang "I'm Yours" and "Rolling in the Deep" while The Handsome One (self-proclaimed, his real name is Chinguun) accompanied us on guitar. Some tourists took videos of us, hahahaha.
By the time we walked back to the bus stop, it was 7:30, and I had made some really fun friends.
I thought I was going to Bible study with Anya at 9:00, but since she didn't wake up until five minutes after that, I figured that was off the table. We ended up going to church at 10:45. We took a cab and saw a military escort of tanks, showing off for Naadam. Anya is pretty cool. I think it'll be fun to live with her.
The church service was unique today because they were having a rededication service for their development building. A team from the Australian Samaritan's Purse (which helped fund it) was here. The kids from the orphanage performed some songs, Scripture memorization, and acrobatics. The teen whose idea it was to start helping local kids was commissioned and prayed over. It was all very cool.
Afterward, I got out of my anti-social bubble and talked to some of the other team in UB from Virginia and some of the Mongolian youth. When Gany was still singing with the youth elsewhere, I went to find a quiet place to play with my iPad. A boy who is my favorite, Galaa, came and said, "Give me your iPad," and he promptly did more with it than I knew was possible. A few minutes later, the instruments were put away, and ten of us headed to the bus stop.
We rode to the end of town, where we got 'Mongolian McDonalds,' which is a hot meat pastry thing called khuushuur. Youth are the same everywhere, apparently, because we played hand games and pushing games and the human knot while waiting for the food. We walked to a park to eat it, then hiked a tourist mountain. It is a tourist mountain because there are steps. And tourists.
Most of them know a little English, and as we became friends, they were more comfortable trying it out on me. One girl named Enkhtuya sang praise songs with me and taught me some Mongolian vocabulary. At the top we took jumping pictures, famous the world over. Then we sat on a step and sang "I'm Yours" and "Rolling in the Deep" while The Handsome One (self-proclaimed, his real name is Chinguun) accompanied us on guitar. Some tourists took videos of us, hahahaha.
By the time we walked back to the bus stop, it was 7:30, and I had made some really fun friends.
Youth Group
Every Saturday at 1:30, Gany's church youth group has their own worship service, and any street kids are welcome to join. They started this completely on their own and have been going strong for a couple years now. These kids are amazing! (Hah, kids. The average age is probably 18 plus or minus three.)
There were sixteen of us, and at least seven were in the worship band, which was really spectacular. We sang three songs then sat in a circle and gave any weekly testimonies people wanted to share. They were willing to go deep, sharing some insecurities and prayer requests and awesome things that had happened that week. I felt like my dream of church intimacy and honesty was staring me in the face. Finally, one girl led a bit of discussion/devotion, and Gany translated for me the whole time. She's quite good.
We hung around for a couple hours after. I made friends with some kiddos, especially a little boy named Chatty Johnny (that is what he told me his name s, and I love it so much I refuse to call him anything else). He has adorable curly hair, and he knows a lot of English. I read him several books, and we practiced what sounds animals make. Whenever he doesn't know an answer, he tilts his head, puts his finger to the corner of his mouth, and says, "Hmm." Adorable.
I also made friends with some of the older ones when brought out my iPad. We sang along to Adele and played Angry Birds and Smule. Some of them know English, so I was able to converse a tiny bit.
Gany and I left at 4:45 to go see Transformers 3, but the trolley we took was incredibly slow due to how a quick storm had flooded the streets. We arrived too late, but bought tickets for Tuesday night. I'm kind of super excited, because no lie, this is the fanciest movie theater I've ever seen. Which means, yes, I've found the tourist district. And now Ulaanbaatar officially stands a step above Dakar.
We went to a game center instead, where you pay for a hour's worth of Wii or PS3 time. The place is snazzy. All gaming should be done in places like this. We played Wii Sports, since Gany had never played before.
"Later, you will have to teach me how to punch! You are so fast, and right to my face!" Gany said after we boxed. Thanks, p90x kenpo.
Apparently there is karaoke there too, so later in my trip we will go with Anya. This place feels so quintessentially Asian, it makes my heart explode.
We took another bus home, and as it was already 8:30 and past my bedtime, because I'm LAME and foible to jet lag like all traveling losers, I nearly fell asleep five times. But I didn't through sheer force of will. We walked another fifteen minutes to the apartment, where I dipped bread in a jar of peanut butter for my dinner. My eating habits are wonky here.
I realized that this is the first time I've traveled and hung out exclusively with locals. That's kind of cool.
There were sixteen of us, and at least seven were in the worship band, which was really spectacular. We sang three songs then sat in a circle and gave any weekly testimonies people wanted to share. They were willing to go deep, sharing some insecurities and prayer requests and awesome things that had happened that week. I felt like my dream of church intimacy and honesty was staring me in the face. Finally, one girl led a bit of discussion/devotion, and Gany translated for me the whole time. She's quite good.
We hung around for a couple hours after. I made friends with some kiddos, especially a little boy named Chatty Johnny (that is what he told me his name s, and I love it so much I refuse to call him anything else). He has adorable curly hair, and he knows a lot of English. I read him several books, and we practiced what sounds animals make. Whenever he doesn't know an answer, he tilts his head, puts his finger to the corner of his mouth, and says, "Hmm." Adorable.
I also made friends with some of the older ones when brought out my iPad. We sang along to Adele and played Angry Birds and Smule. Some of them know English, so I was able to converse a tiny bit.
Gany and I left at 4:45 to go see Transformers 3, but the trolley we took was incredibly slow due to how a quick storm had flooded the streets. We arrived too late, but bought tickets for Tuesday night. I'm kind of super excited, because no lie, this is the fanciest movie theater I've ever seen. Which means, yes, I've found the tourist district. And now Ulaanbaatar officially stands a step above Dakar.
We went to a game center instead, where you pay for a hour's worth of Wii or PS3 time. The place is snazzy. All gaming should be done in places like this. We played Wii Sports, since Gany had never played before.
"Later, you will have to teach me how to punch! You are so fast, and right to my face!" Gany said after we boxed. Thanks, p90x kenpo.
Apparently there is karaoke there too, so later in my trip we will go with Anya. This place feels so quintessentially Asian, it makes my heart explode.
We took another bus home, and as it was already 8:30 and past my bedtime, because I'm LAME and foible to jet lag like all traveling losers, I nearly fell asleep five times. But I didn't through sheer force of will. We walked another fifteen minutes to the apartment, where I dipped bread in a jar of peanut butter for my dinner. My eating habits are wonky here.
I realized that this is the first time I've traveled and hung out exclusively with locals. That's kind of cool.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Jet Lag
Jet lag is a jerk. Gany dropped me off at 6:30 last night and showed me how to limitedly access the Internet with her phone (which I am borrowing--she is taking her boyfriend's, who I assume is phoneless). I laid down to read a bit, and that was it. I was asleep by 7:00.
I did force myself awake around 10:00, dragging my face away from a wet patch of drool. Am I the only person who gets excited when I drool? It's a nice proof positive that I was gloriously and deeply asleep. Anyway, I took out my contacts, showered, and fell back asleep.
Which means of course I woke up at 5:30 this morning. Ugh. But after this (or maybe after tomorrow night...) I refuse! I will not succumb to jet lag like a normal person! Hopefully maybe.
..
I'm doing my paranoid agoraphobia schtick. There is an internet cafe just across the sidewalk from my apartment building, and I've been contemplating taking a stroll to use their computers (they don't have WiFi). But that would mean leaving on my own! And communicating! And maybe looking foolish!
This happens every time I travel, for the first few days, at least. New place, Same fears. Today I will wait for Gany, but my goal is to go somewhere, anywhere, by myself before we leave for the countryside on Thursday.
..
Because I ate almost nothing yesterday, I thought I was going to become thin and weak during this trip. Um, not today. I ate an apple when I got up at 5:30, since I hadn't had dinner the night before due to sleeping. Then a couple hours later I made myself cereal. At 9:00 Anya's mother got up and made me an egg, which she pointed out I should eat with bread. Not wanting to offend, I ate it, and it was good. Thirty minutes later, she brought in a bowl of rice! Like, a big bowl. I'm going to eat all my meals for the day before noon. And I can't even communicate with her to tell her to please stop.
..
In Senegal I learned that water can be delicious, even when it's been stagnant in a bottle sitting out in the sun all day. Good thing I learned that, because I think cold water will be mostly non-existent while I'm here. Anya's mom brings me a 2 liter thermos of boiled water every morning, which I then pour into my water bottle and wait for it to reach room temperature. And you know what? It tastes delicious, because Mongolia is really dry, and I am thirsty all the time.
..
This quote from F.B. Meyer describes exactly how this trip to Mongolia came about. "God's impressions within and his word without are always corroborated by his providence around, and we should quietly wait until those three focus into one point. If you do not now what you ought to do, stand still until you do. And when the time comes for action, circumstances, like glowworms, will sparkle along your path; and you will become so sure that you are right, when God's three witnesses concur, that you could not be surer though an angel beckoned you on."
I did force myself awake around 10:00, dragging my face away from a wet patch of drool. Am I the only person who gets excited when I drool? It's a nice proof positive that I was gloriously and deeply asleep. Anyway, I took out my contacts, showered, and fell back asleep.
Which means of course I woke up at 5:30 this morning. Ugh. But after this (or maybe after tomorrow night...) I refuse! I will not succumb to jet lag like a normal person! Hopefully maybe.
..
I'm doing my paranoid agoraphobia schtick. There is an internet cafe just across the sidewalk from my apartment building, and I've been contemplating taking a stroll to use their computers (they don't have WiFi). But that would mean leaving on my own! And communicating! And maybe looking foolish!
This happens every time I travel, for the first few days, at least. New place, Same fears. Today I will wait for Gany, but my goal is to go somewhere, anywhere, by myself before we leave for the countryside on Thursday.
..
Because I ate almost nothing yesterday, I thought I was going to become thin and weak during this trip. Um, not today. I ate an apple when I got up at 5:30, since I hadn't had dinner the night before due to sleeping. Then a couple hours later I made myself cereal. At 9:00 Anya's mother got up and made me an egg, which she pointed out I should eat with bread. Not wanting to offend, I ate it, and it was good. Thirty minutes later, she brought in a bowl of rice! Like, a big bowl. I'm going to eat all my meals for the day before noon. And I can't even communicate with her to tell her to please stop.
..
In Senegal I learned that water can be delicious, even when it's been stagnant in a bottle sitting out in the sun all day. Good thing I learned that, because I think cold water will be mostly non-existent while I'm here. Anya's mom brings me a 2 liter thermos of boiled water every morning, which I then pour into my water bottle and wait for it to reach room temperature. And you know what? It tastes delicious, because Mongolia is really dry, and I am thirsty all the time.
..
This quote from F.B. Meyer describes exactly how this trip to Mongolia came about. "God's impressions within and his word without are always corroborated by his providence around, and we should quietly wait until those three focus into one point. If you do not now what you ought to do, stand still until you do. And when the time comes for action, circumstances, like glowworms, will sparkle along your path; and you will become so sure that you are right, when God's three witnesses concur, that you could not be surer though an angel beckoned you on."
First Day in Ulaanbaatar
Okay, so first, I did not expect this level of poverty. I was picturing a city more like Athens than Dakar, but maybe it's even worse. Granted, I only saw the streets at 3 in the morning, so I could be completely wrong.
I am staying with Gany's friend Anya and her mother, only Anya is out of UB until Saturday. Gany explained a few things to me last night, then set off for her own bed. I have my own room in their apartment, with a nice bed and the hodge podge of furniture I got used to in Fatick. There's running water and warm showers if you wait long enough. No flushing toilet paper, near as I can tell. And no Internet, which sucks, but which will force me into a kind of monastic focus. And that can only be good. I just hope to find an Internet cafe so I can keep up with USians on a semi-regular basis.
My huge suitcase of clothes and gadgets is making me super self-conscious.
This morning Anya's mom (I'll learn her name as soon as I see it written down) made me milk tea, which is...hot water and milk. Seems like something fairly important is missing, but whatever, it's liquid that won't give me parasites. I'm newly afraid of drinking the water here.
It's nice to have some travel experience so I know how to sort of communicate (Anya's mom speaks Mongolian as she does things, then I do the same thing or nod and make up an answer in English). I tried to get her to write her name down, but she gestured at my Bible, and when I nodded, she wrote "I love you, Lord God" in Cyrillic instead. Not what I wanted, but cool nonetheless. A bit later she came in with her own notebook (Senegalese graph style) and asked me to write down my name. We're making slow but steady progress, I think!
..
Gany came over at 1:30 and we walked to the orphanage. From what I've experienced so far, I think I'll be doing random things each day, at the orphanage or not. Good thing I didn't have any expectations!
UB is nicer by daylight, but it still reminds me of Dakar in a lot of ways. Uncompleted buildings, trash on the sidewalks. But there isn't sand, and the sky is actually blue with puffy clouds, so big plus there.
It was a twenty minute walk to the orphanage, and I hope Gany doesn't expect me to make the journey by myself anytime soon, because I got lost almost as soon as we left the apartment building. The orphanage is incredibly nice. It's right next to where her church meets, so I met a lot of her youth group (which is mostly 20- year-olds) and a lot of workers from the orphanage. There is a team of neurologists there this week, running tests on kids brought in from the countryside.
I talked to Rita, the Kentuckian who started the orphanage. She has a very cool story. Apparently the government is not allowing orphans to be sent to private orphanages anymore, which seems awful because The Light Orphanage is really nice. They are down to only 17 kids, and one was adopted just this week, so they are all sad/happy to see her go.
I met most of the kids and tried out my awful Mongolian on them. Gany says I do well, but she's also a nice person. Mostly I feel like I'm clearing my throat around some vowels...seriously, my mouth was not made to make these sounds. The kids are really cute though. I kicked a ball around with an adorable little boy, and I reached out to hold hands with a girl in a crib who has a brain disorder. That was a mistake, because she thought I was going to lift her out. I had to pull away, and she cried, but if she's out of the crib without supervision she hits her head on the floor. There are two girls there with disorders, but the rest seemed healthy.
Gany and I are eating a late lunch at a really swanky Internet cafe. I don't know how often I'll get to come here, but I'll try to update as often as possible. We plan to get me some money, then go grocery shopping. Tomorrow we don't have plans until night, when she feeds street kids with her youth group.
I am feeling overwhelmed by meeting everyone all at once, but I think this will be a good trip. Already I'm relearning some things about materialism and flexibility and patience. And regardless, it's good to see Gany! Even though the second thing she said to me after i arrived was, "You smell like Peoria!" Um, thanks? :)
I am staying with Gany's friend Anya and her mother, only Anya is out of UB until Saturday. Gany explained a few things to me last night, then set off for her own bed. I have my own room in their apartment, with a nice bed and the hodge podge of furniture I got used to in Fatick. There's running water and warm showers if you wait long enough. No flushing toilet paper, near as I can tell. And no Internet, which sucks, but which will force me into a kind of monastic focus. And that can only be good. I just hope to find an Internet cafe so I can keep up with USians on a semi-regular basis.
My huge suitcase of clothes and gadgets is making me super self-conscious.
This morning Anya's mom (I'll learn her name as soon as I see it written down) made me milk tea, which is...hot water and milk. Seems like something fairly important is missing, but whatever, it's liquid that won't give me parasites. I'm newly afraid of drinking the water here.
It's nice to have some travel experience so I know how to sort of communicate (Anya's mom speaks Mongolian as she does things, then I do the same thing or nod and make up an answer in English). I tried to get her to write her name down, but she gestured at my Bible, and when I nodded, she wrote "I love you, Lord God" in Cyrillic instead. Not what I wanted, but cool nonetheless. A bit later she came in with her own notebook (Senegalese graph style) and asked me to write down my name. We're making slow but steady progress, I think!
..
Gany came over at 1:30 and we walked to the orphanage. From what I've experienced so far, I think I'll be doing random things each day, at the orphanage or not. Good thing I didn't have any expectations!
UB is nicer by daylight, but it still reminds me of Dakar in a lot of ways. Uncompleted buildings, trash on the sidewalks. But there isn't sand, and the sky is actually blue with puffy clouds, so big plus there.
It was a twenty minute walk to the orphanage, and I hope Gany doesn't expect me to make the journey by myself anytime soon, because I got lost almost as soon as we left the apartment building. The orphanage is incredibly nice. It's right next to where her church meets, so I met a lot of her youth group (which is mostly 20- year-olds) and a lot of workers from the orphanage. There is a team of neurologists there this week, running tests on kids brought in from the countryside.
I talked to Rita, the Kentuckian who started the orphanage. She has a very cool story. Apparently the government is not allowing orphans to be sent to private orphanages anymore, which seems awful because The Light Orphanage is really nice. They are down to only 17 kids, and one was adopted just this week, so they are all sad/happy to see her go.
I met most of the kids and tried out my awful Mongolian on them. Gany says I do well, but she's also a nice person. Mostly I feel like I'm clearing my throat around some vowels...seriously, my mouth was not made to make these sounds. The kids are really cute though. I kicked a ball around with an adorable little boy, and I reached out to hold hands with a girl in a crib who has a brain disorder. That was a mistake, because she thought I was going to lift her out. I had to pull away, and she cried, but if she's out of the crib without supervision she hits her head on the floor. There are two girls there with disorders, but the rest seemed healthy.
Gany and I are eating a late lunch at a really swanky Internet cafe. I don't know how often I'll get to come here, but I'll try to update as often as possible. We plan to get me some money, then go grocery shopping. Tomorrow we don't have plans until night, when she feeds street kids with her youth group.
I am feeling overwhelmed by meeting everyone all at once, but I think this will be a good trip. Already I'm relearning some things about materialism and flexibility and patience. And regardless, it's good to see Gany! Even though the second thing she said to me after i arrived was, "You smell like Peoria!" Um, thanks? :)
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Incheon Airport is Adorable
Okay, so I kind of wish I were staying in Korea. And I guess that wish came true to a lame extent, because my next flight is delayed for three hours. Thank goodness I'm in South Korea and not O'Hare! This airport is awesome! What kinds of awesome, you might ask?
1. There are random parades! Through the airport! With people wearing traditional dress and instruments and everything.
2. They have Starbucks. I meant to use the gift card my mom gave me, but duh, I should have realized they wouldn't take it. Instead I paid in dollars and got wan/yen/I don't know back. And the drink that I got? Soy green tea frappachino! Sounds disgusting, right? I thought so too (...which should have deterred me from buying it, but whatever), and we would both be wrong! It was quite tasty.
3. The airport ladies have adorable little bow things in their hair.
4. There is quite enough English for me to get around easily.
5. The Korean language is beautiful! More so than Japanese and Chinese, I think. Looks wise, anyway.
6. There are Korean culture stations where you can dress up and stuff. I passed one before I knew my flight was delayed. Now that I know I have some extra time, maybe I'll try to find it.
1. There are random parades! Through the airport! With people wearing traditional dress and instruments and everything.
2. They have Starbucks. I meant to use the gift card my mom gave me, but duh, I should have realized they wouldn't take it. Instead I paid in dollars and got wan/yen/I don't know back. And the drink that I got? Soy green tea frappachino! Sounds disgusting, right? I thought so too (...which should have deterred me from buying it, but whatever), and we would both be wrong! It was quite tasty.
3. The airport ladies have adorable little bow things in their hair.
4. There is quite enough English for me to get around easily.
5. The Korean language is beautiful! More so than Japanese and Chinese, I think. Looks wise, anyway.
6. There are Korean culture stations where you can dress up and stuff. I passed one before I knew my flight was delayed. Now that I know I have some extra time, maybe I'll try to find it.
Thoughts from 30,000 Feet Above the Pacific Ocean
I got to see the Forsythes (minus Kim and Gloria) again, after seven months, and they were still the same. Travis returned from grocery shopping after I arrived at their house, then entertained me with stories of gorillas and exploding breasts (yes, you read that right) during the ride to the airport. Nate greeted me with, "What are you doing here?" and tried, unsuccessfully, to get away with a side hug. In contrast, Mel hug-attacked me, then subtly chided her father for not offering me a seat. Ethan lovingly described root beer refills and pretended to be asleep until I poked him in the forehead to assure him I knew he existed.
I'm going to have an excellent time with them at the end of the month.
..
It's weird to feel like a minority in a Chicago airport terminal, but probably only 5% of people on my Asiana flight are Caucasion. This only furthers my belief that airports are portals to other worlds, separate from the countries in which they are built. Time stops, culture stops.
As I sit here in the Emergency Exit row (leg room! You have spoiled me forever!), surrounded by, near as I can tell, all Koreans, I wonder if I am already learning what it would be like to live in Asia. Though our skin colors are not as obviously different as in Senegal, I still feel like a toubab. I tower over men just as often as women. And there is nothing to make you feel like a beast as much as being around hundreds of petite Asian women. But I learned to deal with standing out before. I will do it again.
..
I'm not nervous about this trip. Obviously I've gotten used to traveling, and this is my second solo journey, but surey I am not so old hat? I hope it's not because I'm underprepared. I desperately want my flexibility to be an asset, not a liability.
..
Nine more hours. My word. Thank goodness for heavenly slippers and plastic packages of mouth wash in the bathrooms.
Ooo, turbulence. If Lost taught me anything, it is to scope out your fellow passengers for potential allies and/or crazy freaks. So far I have befriended my right-side seat mate, but this is far more beneficial for me than for her. She's already had to explain where the hidden Emergency Exit row trays and TVs are kept.
..
I've been reading Relevent magazine, and every article seems to be written for me.
Yes, I have abandoned the importance of evangelizing in my pusuit of social justice. When will my extremist nature learn to accept both/and instead of either/or?
I want to change the world, to bring peace and comfort and joy to the oppressed. I want to right wrongs and save people from a lifetime of poverty or slavery. But I want to do it from a love of Jesus, to bring his Kingdom to earth, to bring all people to worship him, because he really is amazing.
..
Haha, just kidding. I switched to reading Christlike (just a couple months late, sorry, Joel), and it directly contradicted me and changed my mind. Check it.
"I've decided to stop trying to change the world on my own. I've even stopped trying to change the church. I have decided to focus on changing me...I just want people to be attracted to Christ because of who I am, what I have to say, and how I say it."
..
When I first saw those u-shaped traveling pillows, I thought they were for tools. Soon after, when my wanderlust became official, I realized they were the coolest things ever, marking their wearers as travelers too awesome to remove them from around their necks while speed-walking to their next airport destination.
I got one of those pillows for my birthday this year, and my opinion has changed once again. I now know that they are, in fact, for people who have no control over their neck muscles, similar in function to special needs helmets or pillows on the butt when it's icy outside. I know this because my own head lolling while asleep has been significantly reduced during this 13 hour flight to South Korea.
No matter your opinion of these traveling pillows, I will wear mine with pride as the Special Ed, hipster cool, douchebag tourist that I am.
I'm going to have an excellent time with them at the end of the month.
..
It's weird to feel like a minority in a Chicago airport terminal, but probably only 5% of people on my Asiana flight are Caucasion. This only furthers my belief that airports are portals to other worlds, separate from the countries in which they are built. Time stops, culture stops.
As I sit here in the Emergency Exit row (leg room! You have spoiled me forever!), surrounded by, near as I can tell, all Koreans, I wonder if I am already learning what it would be like to live in Asia. Though our skin colors are not as obviously different as in Senegal, I still feel like a toubab. I tower over men just as often as women. And there is nothing to make you feel like a beast as much as being around hundreds of petite Asian women. But I learned to deal with standing out before. I will do it again.
..
I'm not nervous about this trip. Obviously I've gotten used to traveling, and this is my second solo journey, but surey I am not so old hat? I hope it's not because I'm underprepared. I desperately want my flexibility to be an asset, not a liability.
..
Nine more hours. My word. Thank goodness for heavenly slippers and plastic packages of mouth wash in the bathrooms.
Ooo, turbulence. If Lost taught me anything, it is to scope out your fellow passengers for potential allies and/or crazy freaks. So far I have befriended my right-side seat mate, but this is far more beneficial for me than for her. She's already had to explain where the hidden Emergency Exit row trays and TVs are kept.
..
I've been reading Relevent magazine, and every article seems to be written for me.
Yes, I have abandoned the importance of evangelizing in my pusuit of social justice. When will my extremist nature learn to accept both/and instead of either/or?
I want to change the world, to bring peace and comfort and joy to the oppressed. I want to right wrongs and save people from a lifetime of poverty or slavery. But I want to do it from a love of Jesus, to bring his Kingdom to earth, to bring all people to worship him, because he really is amazing.
..
Haha, just kidding. I switched to reading Christlike (just a couple months late, sorry, Joel), and it directly contradicted me and changed my mind. Check it.
"I've decided to stop trying to change the world on my own. I've even stopped trying to change the church. I have decided to focus on changing me...I just want people to be attracted to Christ because of who I am, what I have to say, and how I say it."
..
When I first saw those u-shaped traveling pillows, I thought they were for tools. Soon after, when my wanderlust became official, I realized they were the coolest things ever, marking their wearers as travelers too awesome to remove them from around their necks while speed-walking to their next airport destination.
I got one of those pillows for my birthday this year, and my opinion has changed once again. I now know that they are, in fact, for people who have no control over their neck muscles, similar in function to special needs helmets or pillows on the butt when it's icy outside. I know this because my own head lolling while asleep has been significantly reduced during this 13 hour flight to South Korea.
No matter your opinion of these traveling pillows, I will wear mine with pride as the Special Ed, hipster cool, douchebag tourist that I am.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Further Up and Further In
When I returned from Senegal, I knew I wanted to serve God overseas. Some doors were shut, but one Children's Librarian door practically pulled me through. I wondered if this job training me to plan events and deal with children might be part of God growing me...so last year, I decided I wanted to look into orphanage work.
A couple months later, I met Gany from Mongolia. We became friends, and I asked if I could visit her and volunteer in an orphanage run by some people she knows. She said yes, and long story cut to the end, tomorrow I leave to cross the Pacific Ocean for the first time.
Here are my goals:
1. I want to determine whether or not orphanage work is something I should continue to pursue.
2. I want to determine whether or not Asia is somewhere I want to live.
3. I really, really want my stories to inspire someone (or someones!) to adopt. That would make my heart explode with happiness.
With that in mind, here are my prayer requests, if anyone in the interwebs cares to talk to God about me:
1. That God gives me wisdom.
2. That God lets me encourage Gany and bring some extra joy to the workers and children at the orphanage.
3. That God shows me his glory and allows me to show it to others.
A couple months later, I met Gany from Mongolia. We became friends, and I asked if I could visit her and volunteer in an orphanage run by some people she knows. She said yes, and long story cut to the end, tomorrow I leave to cross the Pacific Ocean for the first time.
Here are my goals:
1. I want to determine whether or not orphanage work is something I should continue to pursue.
2. I want to determine whether or not Asia is somewhere I want to live.
3. I really, really want my stories to inspire someone (or someones!) to adopt. That would make my heart explode with happiness.
With that in mind, here are my prayer requests, if anyone in the interwebs cares to talk to God about me:
1. That God gives me wisdom.
2. That God lets me encourage Gany and bring some extra joy to the workers and children at the orphanage.
3. That God shows me his glory and allows me to show it to others.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Blessings by Laura Story
I have a confession to make. I was only ever in HOPE for the wrong reason. Did I want people to worship God as a result of me waving my hands around in semi-sign language? Sure. But mostly I just wanted to hang out with my friends an extra hour every Sunday afternoon.
So when I graduated from high school, and therefore HOPE, I never really wanted to reunite and perform again. Earlier this summer, there was a HOPE-graduate weekend trip, but I didn't much want to go (and also couldn't, so).
Then Pam asked me to help with this new song, "Blessings" by Laura Story. She wanted Lindsay, Ashley, and I to do it, and I was trying to think of a polite way to say no. My plans were foiled when she had me listen to the song, which completely blew me away. Added to that were the signs she'd picked, and my word, I was sold. There's a bit near the end that says, "This is not, this is not our home." And we switch from signing "Earth" and gesturing down to making the sign for heaven. Only powerful if you know what the signs mean, but as I do....I was verklempt.
We performed this Sunday, and I hope everyone else got the awesomeness. I've been learning a lot about trials and how following God is likely to lead to more pain rather than less--but that we should rejoice in that pain, because it is through the awfulness that we rely on God and learn about Him and love Him more deeply.
"What if my greatest disappointments and the achings of this life are the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?"
So when I graduated from high school, and therefore HOPE, I never really wanted to reunite and perform again. Earlier this summer, there was a HOPE-graduate weekend trip, but I didn't much want to go (and also couldn't, so).
Then Pam asked me to help with this new song, "Blessings" by Laura Story. She wanted Lindsay, Ashley, and I to do it, and I was trying to think of a polite way to say no. My plans were foiled when she had me listen to the song, which completely blew me away. Added to that were the signs she'd picked, and my word, I was sold. There's a bit near the end that says, "This is not, this is not our home." And we switch from signing "Earth" and gesturing down to making the sign for heaven. Only powerful if you know what the signs mean, but as I do....I was verklempt.
We performed this Sunday, and I hope everyone else got the awesomeness. I've been learning a lot about trials and how following God is likely to lead to more pain rather than less--but that we should rejoice in that pain, because it is through the awfulness that we rely on God and learn about Him and love Him more deeply.
"What if my greatest disappointments and the achings of this life are the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?"
Saturday, July 2, 2011
True Friends Make Fun Of You
"Or instead of ALT, maybe she could use a Central command," Dusty said.
Jennie burst out laughing and smacked me on the leg.
"Hah hah...hah?" I laughed. "I don't...get why we're laughing."
"He said Central!" Jennie explained.
"Oh! Hahahaha! ...No, I still don't get it."
"Remember how you used to think the Control button was called Central?"
It all caught up with me then, and I laughed loudly and honestly. "Apparently I still think it's Central, because I did not see anything wrong with what he said." We all laughed at my expense.
That, along with laughing at Jennie's miserable mouse catching skills and attempting to smash my chair into Dusty as he passed corn on the cob by my ear (and failing), are some of the reasons I love hanging out with the Hughes family. It never seems like any time has passed, we can openly mock each other, and I can tell them about anything and a everything in my life (and I receive advice as well as mockery).
I love Jennie and Dusty.
Jennie burst out laughing and smacked me on the leg.
"Hah hah...hah?" I laughed. "I don't...get why we're laughing."
"He said Central!" Jennie explained.
"Oh! Hahahaha! ...No, I still don't get it."
"Remember how you used to think the Control button was called Central?"
It all caught up with me then, and I laughed loudly and honestly. "Apparently I still think it's Central, because I did not see anything wrong with what he said." We all laughed at my expense.
That, along with laughing at Jennie's miserable mouse catching skills and attempting to smash my chair into Dusty as he passed corn on the cob by my ear (and failing), are some of the reasons I love hanging out with the Hughes family. It never seems like any time has passed, we can openly mock each other, and I can tell them about anything and a everything in my life (and I receive advice as well as mockery).
I love Jennie and Dusty.
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