Skulls in the street and the Embassy Cat

Wow, it has been a whole week since I last wrote, and what a week it has been.  Last time I wrote I was reluctant to go to the social evening, but it turned out to be a lot of fun.  We went to a Hot pot restaurnt, which was a huge place where each table, or set of tables had its own kind of wicker gazebo, and each person had their own wee gas burner and wee saucepan of soup.  We then ordered baskets of vegetbles, wonderfully colourful collections of spinach, lettuce, pak choi, a variety of exotic mushrooms, chinese leaf and sweet potato.  I went and sat with a group of lads who were ordering beer, as I could tell that was where I would fine my kindred brethren, and sure enough they were funny and irreverant.  K and I went to the pub with them afterwards, and I finally felt like myself for a while, sitting in a pub cracking jokes round the table is my bag.

Instead of going to language shcool during the week, we were attending sessions at VSO designed to introduce us to living and working in Mongolia.  I must admit I got very frustrated with these sessions, as many of them were - shall we say - superfluous....

However on wednesday I went with a current volunteer to a Community Health Clinic in the north of the city, in a Ger district, which is like some kind of utterly surreal shanty town.....a huge area of gers and hastily constructed minature houses, made of bricks and resembling a playmobile village.  The snowy mountains loom impressively behind the blanket of eccentric structures, and the coal smoke that streams from every chimney catches in my throat and makes me cough in a way I cant remember coughing before.

I sit in on a training session, given by an american nurse, to a disparate group of Mongolian Community Nurses.  They are a mixed bunch, there are 15 of them, and none looks under 30.  They are not smiling, they look tired and indifferent.  I introduce myself in Mongolian, and they barely evn look at me.  However, they appear atentive to the lecture, and take notes, though no one asks any questions.  Most seem to lose interest about half way through, one nods off, and another is staring in a manner which although not hostile, is not friendly.... I begin to worry about my own job, but then I notice that the American Nurse has made a sttement about normal sinus rhythm, which the Mongolian nurses are questioning, there is much talking and gesticulating, and I am reassured that there can indeed be a lively interaction and that they were all listening afterall.

On wednesday evening we had another "social evening", a gatherine of most of the VSO volunteers, as well as those from a German NGO, and an Australian NGO.  The event was held at an art galley, and there was a very random buffet, of scotch eggs and mince pies.  Yes, Mince pies.  K and E and me did a bit of networking, there was an indepth conversation about the Mongolian Cashmere Industry, and we also got persuaded to come to the Mongolian Winter Olympics.  We then went with the boys to the pub, were there was much raucousness and laughter, and beer.  We then went to an "after party" at an apartment, and that is wen the vodka was brought out, and where my decorum left the building. 

Suffice it to say, that the next day, K and I were feeling quite worse for wear, yet we had a 9am start at the VSO office, from where we were taken to visit the UN Medical Centre, where we are to go for medical treatmetn should we need it.  There is a security office one must go through first, before entering the compound, and I just find the Mongolian men in their Soviet style uniforms so surreal.  They have extremely smart military style jackets, big black boots, and a high fur hat.  they look very stern, and some of them have guns.

We met with the UN Doctor and found out that the pollution in UB is 12 times the WHO safe levels, so we are strongly advised to go to the countryside every weekend to clean our lungs.  We can also expect mild anaemia while we adapt to living at high altitude.  Being short of breath has become as normal as - well, breathing. 

After the UN we were taken to the SOS clinic, an incredibly swish private medical centre where we will be treated should we be so unfortunate as to seriously injure ourselves, or become desparately ill.  by this time K and I were flaking badly, and becoming very grumpy, so we clamoured loudly for lunch, and off we all trouped to a vegan cafe called The Loving Hut.  It is a chain of restaurnts run by a Vietnamese woman who has set herself up as a Guru.  In the corner of the cafe was a TV screen, showing, on a loop, this woman preaching to her disciples.  Our food was very tasty, and served on heat shaped plates.

Fortified somewhat by this sustenance, our bedraged group were then taken to the British Embassy, to be introduced, or something, I am afraid I fell asleep.  We didnt see a lot of the Embassy, from the front door we were led to a sitting room, with large sofa's and arm chairs, and a big painting of the Queen,and randomly, a sleepy cat.  For two hours we were told about the political situation in Mongolia, and other stuff that I cant remember, now and again I would look up to see Ihab laughing at my pathetic attempts to stay awake and look attentive.

When we were finally liberated from our edification session, we straggled home.  On the way we saw a tramp who had either passed out or died, half on the pavment, half in the road.  My first instinct was to go to him, and at least get his head out of the way of passing cars, there were people all around, just ignoring him, and the traffic mercifully swerved to avoid him.  I was torn up inside about it, but my companions reassured me that the police would come and pick him up, and that it was better for us not to interfere in any way, being foreign and female.

That evening I turned the guesthouse siting room into a den of iniquity, we pulled the furniture around until we had created a card table, and I taught Ihab and K how to play poker.  Then we danced to 90's Reggae and laughed at eachothers increasingly comic bogling.

Friday I had a meeting with my "counterpart" and programme manager, in which I was briefed on my job.  I m to work from 8.20am to 4.20pm, and will be sharing an office with up to 5 others.  I will have an interpreter from 30hours per week.  I am expected to spend the frst month going around the different departments of the Hospital performing a needs assessment, so that I can then create pertinent training sessions.  I will deliver these sessions to small groups of nurses in the designated trianing room.  I will also give lectures to larger groups of nurses.  I said I would also give english lessons, and that these would be open to anyone at all.

That evening K and Ihab and I went to the flat of a current VSO, and had a very nice spaghetti bolognaise.  We then wet to join the lads in the pub, and more beer was quaffed.  Everyone went off around midnight to a club, but K and I stayed on in the pub talking talking talking until the bar staff very politely informed us that the bar was now closed - looking around us we realised we were the last people there and the staff were startig to put on their coats.  We marched home hand in hand, falling into bed around 3am.

Saturday we were soo tired and ropey, ut a trip to a mad cafe called "American Burger and Fries" sorted us out.  the burgers are better than I have had anywhere, and the proprieter is an American Mongolian who absolutely loves international volunteers, we get 10% off our bill!!

After this divine lunch, we went to the Cinema, which was an experience!  It is very western - gaudy and noisy inside, with arcade games and even a simulator.  Inside, taking our seats early to avoid the crush, I found the Mongolian Cinema ettiquette, or lack thereof, absolutley hilarious.  They talk, walk around, take calls on their mobiles, and bring their small children along for the ride.  We were watchig Wolfman, hollywood pap, that gave me about 12 heart attacks.  A small child in the row in fromt of us began wailing an was taken out by its unruffled father.

After the film, K and I were finished, so tired, so we went back to the guesthouse, stopping to get some food in a small MOngolian cafe.  portion sizes here are ENOURMOUS.  We orderd vegetable noodle stirfry, and were presented with two mounds of food that would have fed five people.  As we we leaving, and leaving a lot of our mea, I was feeling guilty for wasting this food, but physically nable to fit any more of it in my stomach, so I was gratified upon chancing to look back as I walked out of the door, to see that a street urchin had slid immediately into my vacated seat and was shovelling my left overs into his mouth with gusto.

Home we finally reached, and heard that one fo the VSO's had slipped on the ice and hurt her shoulder badly.  I am looking forward ot when the ice melts. 

Right, there is a very noisy french girl in this cafe, who is chain smoking fags and I have written so much I doubt anyone will read this far to see my sign off.  Farewell until I have more to say.  Oh yeah, the skulls in the title - every here and there I see a skull in the street, an animal skull i hasten to add, perhaps a goat or something.  The other day i was walking along when I saw  man carrying two cow heads.  Literally just carrying two cow heads, by the ears, it was ok - if a bit surreal - to see the front of their faces, but as we passed eachother adjacently, I was greeted with the severed side, blood vessels and muscle tissue, quite gross.

Such sights I see, its never dull. I love this city, despite the daily risk of suffication. Laters xx