It may not be much to look at

but I got new pages added to my passport in less than 20 minutes at the U.S. Embassy yesterday. There are bonuses to living in Mongolia. This, I think, is one of them.

On the way home, I got to practice my oh-so-impressive Mongolian language skills with a chatty taxi driver. It was going well -- all the usual questions: How long have you lived in Mongolia? What kind of work do you do? Do you have children? And then my favorite one: Would you like an American husband or a Mongolian one? (Tell me, please, how you're supposed to answer that one without giving offense when your vocabulary doesn't top 300 words.)

I couldn't quite understand the last thing he said to me, but he was miming holding a bow and arrow and my friend Sharon pointed out that he was probably trying to communicate that Mongolian men are manly (since archery is one of the "three manly sports" in Mongolia).

And then he tried to rip me off. Classic.

dzud (rhymes with "dude")

Imagine living in a place where the local language actually has a word for winters that are harsh enough to kill millions of livestock.

From wiki: A zud or dzud (Mongolian: Зуд) is a Mongolian term for an extremely snowy winter in which livestock are unable to find fodder through the snow cover, and large numbers of animals die due to starvation and the cold. 

One of my friends linked to this brief article in the New York Times about this year's winter. Similar conditions in 1999 and 2000 caused hundreds of thousands of herders to abandon their nomadic lifestyles and move to the city. Since livestock is the only source of income for most of the people living outside of the city, it's likely we'll see another influx from the countryside this summer and fall.

Over half the population of the country is already living in Ulaanbaatar and there aren't really any jobs to be found. I can't help but wonder how much longer Mongolia's fragile economy will last in these conditions. There's a great deal of money to be found in the country's natural resources, but because of corruption in the government, that money never finds its way to the Mongolian people. Likewise, any aid money sent usually ends up in someone's pockets.

It's the same old story, I suppose: The rich get richer; the poor get poorer.

Mongolian folk wisdom from language class

It's a bit surprising how often something in language class reminds my teacher of a Mongolian proverb. Then again, since there seems to be a proverb related to or containing every noun in the language, I suppose I should be expecting them by now. Here are just a few of them:

Keep love inside. Be hard on the outside. (One of the first she told me. She was explaining that Mongolian people don't say "I love you" to one another -- this includes husbands, wives, parents, children, friends.)

You are rich if you have many children. (A large family is more important and more secure than wealth.)

It's one crow calling another crow "black". (Like our pot/kettle saying, without the negative connotation.)

Do you have wooden pants? (A question for someone who is taking too long.)

Instead of trusting men, trust your own thumb. (Still don't really understand this one, but it has something to do with the idea that Mongolian men are unreliable.)

Too many words. The cow is gone. (Why it's not good to stand around talking when you should be working.)

A VISITOR!!!

About a month ago, we were blessed with a visit from our dear friend Pat. Pat was serving at a conference in Thailand and decided to come spend a few days with us since she was already over on this side of the world. YAY!!! We couldn't have been more grateful! There is something so rejuvenating about seeing a familiar face (not to mention being blessed with extra hugs and laughter and messages and goodies from home).

I had the privilege of playing the hostess (and a poor one at that) by offering Pat one of the beds in my living room. We spent most of our days downstairs hanging out with the fam or traipsing around UB. It was fun to unwind the day with her after we'd left the rest of the family to get ready for bed and I am so thankful for all the help she gave me as I processed through a handful of experiences and emotions. It was great to be able to unload and even cry a bit. Pat also helped me rearrange my apartment. What a difference those few small changes made! I've never before needed a safe haven like I do now. Thank you, Pat!!!

Though we only got to have her for a few short days, we managed to squeeze in some sight-seeing, a couple days at the school (so that she could see Mike and I in action), church, and a lot of fun just hanging out and talking.

cold friends, originally uploaded by Wanderings.

Pat was very brave and allowed us to take her out into the cold to show her a few of the sights. We took her to Sukhbaatar Square (above) and Zaison Monument (below).

the girls at Zaison, originally uploaded by Wanderings.

Instead of going to language lessons on Thursday morning, Mike invited our language teacher over for breakfast so that she and Pat could meet. Mike, CB, and I are all privileged to take lessons from Bayarmaa. She is WONDERFUL! And we're so glad Pat got to meet the woman who helps us to persevere in language learning.

old friend/new friend, originally uploaded by Wanderings.

She did some grocery shopping with us...

grocery store, originally uploaded by Wanderings.

...and even sat in on two of my lessons.

teaching, originally uploaded by Wanderings.

The time flew by, but we're so grateful for her and her willingness to come visit us in this cold and remote place. If you've thought about coming, but aren't so sure, get in touch with Pat and let her talk you into it. We'd love to have you come! :)

Note: The picture from the grocery store and of me teaching both came from Pat's camera. She got some great shots of things I see and do every day, but never take pictures of.

Is this your grave?

I had my first language faux pas today. Woohoo!!!

As I was leaving my lesson, I thought I'd show off something of what I'd learned today. I walked over to where my language teacher's purse was sitting on a chair and asked, "Энэ таны булш уу?"

Her eyes went wide with shock and she drew in her breath sharply. "You just said a very bad thing!"

I thought maybe I'd sworn at her or something and I insisted she tell me what I said.

Turns out I'd asked, "Is this your grave?" instead of "Is this your bag?" Doesn't sound that bad, huh? But since Mongolians are extremely superstitious, something like this is more of a faux pas than accidentally cursing. Yikes!

So remember, class:

Энэ таны булш уу? = Is this your grave?
Энэ таны цүнх үү? = Is this your bag?

Юу гэнэ ээ? (What did you say?)

I started Mongolian lessons this week. Yikes! I really wish I'd taken a few more linguistics classes in college because I'm pretty sure they would've helped. (Jon and Kelly, I need you!) I've never had to pay so much attention to the shape of my mouth and where I'm placing my tongue while I speak. The vowels alone are killing me. There are 13 of them (а о у э ϒ θ и е ё ю я й ы)!

Mongolian will be the 5th language I've studied. (Don't be too impressed -- I can't really remember a thing about the rest of them.) I do remember the Cyrillic alphabet from my Russian classes, which will help a lot. One less thing to memorize.

My language teacher -- Bayarmaa -- is great. I don't feel too humiliated trying to speak her language to her and she's paid a lot of attention to the technical aspects of pronunciation (how to hold the lips, where the tongue goes, where the sound is coming from), which is hugely helpful. This week I'm supposed to be studying (and practicing) the basic conversational statements you see to the right. I'm already recognizing some of the words. Now if only I could remember how they're supposed to sound...