We met up with some very friendly people around the territory, and found that many Mongolians can speak a [tiny] bit of English. The LDS missionaries that come here are actually assigned as English teachers on a part-time basis, so they stay busy with teaching free classes to anyone interested. We saw some of the young elders out on the streets a few times during the week, and we also made our way to the main chapel building, which also houses the mission headquarters. We learned that there are currently between 7000 and 8000 Mongolian Mormons.
We knew that our Kaysville neighbor, Todd Altom, was winding up his 2-year mission this summer in Mongolia, and we had a care package from his devoted mother, our friend Debbie Altom. She had sent (via Rebecca's suitcase from Utah) a bag of peanut butter jars and pb-flavored goodies to him, and as soon as we gave it to him, his missionary friends quickly flocked around and became his instant best friends. They were a friendly and fun group, and we spent some time chatting after the church meeting.
That building is one of the only "true" air conditioned places in the country, and we enjoyed the friendly feeling from the natives there. Two young ladies sitting behind us just started right up translating the speakers' words for us, without us even asking for their help. One missionary helped us get taxi's back to our home base. It was getting hotter by the day, finally becoming 100 degrees F, so we started taking midday siestas.
Correction of a typo in my first Mongolia posting: It was the Chinggis Khan Cavalry, not the Calvary! I do know the difference. :-)
One of the common sights on the city streets is to see children and some adults begging for money. They meekly hold out their hands or show their deformed or amputated body parts, and just repeat "Money, money" over and over again. Generally they are pretty harmless, but on one occasion we had to ask the restaurant staff to get a young man away from our table. He was standing right by us at lunch, just staring, and would not leave without a struggle with the waitress (who had frequently sent him away, obviously.)
Another time, we walked past a man in a wheelchair who was apparently frustrated that no one was giving him money, and he started throwing rocks at us when we walked by him. We kept our cool, however. But, when we did start giving our small bills to the children, they seemed 100% ungrateful for the donation anyway. I learned at that point that there is no word for "thank you" in Mongolian. That is hard to believe, isn't it!?
Another of our day trips was to an old Buddhist monastery out in the forested wilderness area south of the city...or what is left of it. It was virtually destroyed by the Communists in the 1920's. Apparently there are two sides to every story, however. Rebecca told us that the Buddhist priests were not without their human frailties, and had been taking advantage of the people in various ways. Some things never change, eh?
Everywhere we went, on a bus, or in the van with our driver, we got bounced around on the roads, paved or gravel. With the wide variance in temperature between winter and summer, there is virtually no way to make or keep the roads smooth for any length of time. And, there is no superhighway anywhere in the country. We saw the best roads around; the visitors who go into the far distant wilds of the Gobi desert see almost nothing that could be called a road. I was sitting in the front seat of the van, looking at the rocky path up to the Buddhist temple in the national park one day, and could not believe my eyes. That driver was fearless. I just had to laugh...and tighten my seat belt. (The others in the group didn't have the luxury of seat belts in the back.)
Our driver was Bulga, a 22 year old single young man who comes from a family of nomad sheep and goat herders about 20 km out of the city. He drives tourists (in the guest house owner's van or SUV) on day trips, and also accompanies some adventurous folks on 4-day journeys into the Gobi and beyond. The guest house staff provides a variety of these tours, some for a few weeks of experiences. We met up with people staying at the guest house dorm (a very non-private existence that we were very grateful to have skipped, in favor of our apartment!) from several different countries in Europe, Korea, and the US. They are certainly a friendly lot, akin to a hippy community from the 60's. We chatted with backpackers, and a few volunteers from Peace Corps (English teachers) and the British counterpart to the Peace Corps.
If there is to be a part 3 to this narrative, it will be after a good night's sleep. Adios!
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