my little sewer man

So, two posts in two days!  This is because my computer has decided to work normally again (touch wood) and because i have some more to say.  I never really understood blogging before, but now I find it quite therapeutic.  Although I also get anxious about making it good.  I have too much neurosis for my own good.

Anyway, what I wanted to say is, ITS RAINING!!!  I havent seen rain for three months, had a load of snow, had a load of sunshine, had more show, then dust storms, and more sunshine, but yesterday afternoon it POURED down.

I had stayed in saturday night (dont all fall of your chairs at once) and gone out on sunday morning into the 23 degree sunshine, wearing flip flops and a summer dress.  Walking to town was like being at the beach, cos of all the sand, but only with a big busy road instead of the sea.  sat in the cafe for a couple of hours drinking orange juice and eating Snert (soup, not that great) and when I came out it was tipping it down.  So I hoofed it over to Kate's place where she made me a wicked stir fry (I am so lucky, this girl loves to feed me! Her gaff is my sanctuary - for she has a sofa, and even found me soya milk to put in my tea so I would feel better the other day, what a star eh!?).

Poker was off, then on, then it was off again, so I trundled home again later on.  To have the WORST nights sleep since I got here.  I said before I have been thinking of lots of things, my brain is like some kind of David Lynch film only more surreal and with fewer logical connections.  I think I have a slight personality disorder sometimes.  Anyway, I dreamed lots of dreams, including one where I was an american middle class parent to two children, we were on a sitcom, and my ten year old son had stolen money to buy designer shoes that were very badly made.  I was upset with him less for stealing, than for wearing these shoes that would ruin his feet.  I was aghast, and kept feeling the flimsy soles of them shaking my head while he whined that he was sorry, and he needed designer brands so that he could be cool.  I was silent, in my dream mind I was wondering how a son of mine could be this kind of person.  then some very weird stuff was happening that I cant remember. my daughter in the dream was Karen off of "outnumbered" she was cool.  At least I had one cool kid.....

I also dreamed I was stuck in a room with a load of baddies that wanted to shoot me, and that was horrible, woke up sweating and freaked out.  My dreams are nuts, they are like virtual reality.  Sometimes I cant even tell the difference between them and reality, I have some that leave me emotionally drained, some that leave me elated, some that leave me convinced that reality is a relative term and that I do actually go somewhere else in my sleep.....hmmmm.

Well, anyway, what I wanted to blog about was actually my little sewer man.  In Mongolia, there is a great range of wealth, people very rich, to people that are so poor they are hardly people.  That is not an exaggeration.  Homeless people here live underground in the winter, for the city is heated by national power stations (heating in all buildings is controlled by the state!) and the hot pipes run under the city streets.  So most of the manholes are coverless, which makes a walk home in the dark a thrillingly exciting adventure (for thrillingly exciting, read, potentially fatal).

Now the weather is warmer, they are emerging, and there is one guy in particular that I have seen a few times now, he pops up in the mornings, I see him on my way to work sometimes.  He looks like a little troll.  I am fascinated by him.  He is tiny, and has a very strange face, and tiny tiny hands.  His gait is peculiar - probably the result of life long malnutrition and stooping in the cramped sewers.  He makes my heart flutter as I feel for him and all of them, but he seems quite calm, I looked at him and he just picked up some soil and put it in his mouth.  I nodded a gentle greeting, and walked on. 

He occupies my thoughts a lot, as I try to evisage what his life has been like, how old he is (he looks about 70, but is probably more like 17).

I met a street kid the other day, who was the sweetest one I have come across, they are generally - and this will sound horrible - repellant little creatures.  They are aggressive and persistent, tugging at you calling moneymonymoneymoneymoneymoneyyesyesyesyesyesmoneymoneymoneymoney.  But this guy I met the other day just wanted to walk with me and chat, I gathered all the mongolian I could muster, which turned out to be as much as the english that he knew, so we managed to have a suprisingly coherent conversation.  We told eachother our names and ages, and talked about music.  He could beatbox, and liked to make music on a computer.  He was 14 and had no mother or father.  I wanted to give him a big hug and take care of him forever, but instead I gave him a "cool" handshake and told him to look after himself. 

Today Zolo has abandoned me, the office is very quiet, and I am actually getitng on very nicely with my Infection control booklet.  I am hungry though, so off to the wee shop for some fortification.

oh and one more thing I have to say is that the drivers here are actually f**king stupid, the other day I was stuck on the bus for ages, becuase they cant do waiting turns at an intersection, they all drive in at once, and then inch forward, despite the fact that no one can go anywhere, we had been in standstill traffic gridlock for almost ten minutes, when the guy next to us crashed into the bus.  What the hell?  How dumb do you have to be to be sitting behind a motionless bus for ten minutes then drive into it?  Hmm?? 

Drivers here will also steer towards you and speed up when you are crossing the road, beeping their horns, despite the fact that there are two other lanes for them, and that they were pretty far away when you started crossing, but since they put their foot down and headed straight for you they have to beep to tell you to get the hell out of the way!  I have taken to crossing the road with a reckless abandon, if there are no rules, then I will make my own, and my rules are that I cross the road when I want to and you cant run me over because then there will be a traffic jam and everyone will get well pissed off with you and that would be really embarrassing. So there.