Reading back over my past posts, I realise I didn’t say anything about the Theatre. I went to see the Ballet there, Swam Lake. It was beautiful. The set was modest but ingeniously expressive. The dancers were, on the whole, very accomplished. There were a couple, most notably one boy who played the court jester, who were a bit unsteady and ungainly..... I wondered if he was perhaps drunk, but his awkward landings and clumsy arm movements were not cringy, in fact they were endearing, as he was still utterly committed to his performance, and seemed to be oblivious to his heavy footedness.
The theatre itself is small but lovely, above is the auditorium, below, the corridors of the theatre...
The chandelier in the main auditorium.
The performance was good, but the Mongolians make an ADHD-esque audience. They talk and move around, and take calls on their mobile....there were a group of young children, perhaps between 5 and 10 years old, all sitting together, without adult supervision, who were just larking around throughout the entire performance. We made like grouchy old ladies and shushed them.
So, that was the theatre, I have been trying ever since to get tickets to the opera or to another ballet.
Restaurants were another thing I wanted to talk about. It is funny, it goes against the restrained and polite British manner, but in Restaurants you are allowed to bellow for the waitress, “zorchoooooo!”, and someone will come scurrying over immediately.
Service is hit and miss, and I still cannot wrap my head around some of the things that happen in restaurants....for example I have gone somewhere, walked in, sat down, the waitress comes over, notepad in hand, I make my order and they look pained, writing it down, they potter off, only to come straight back to say “багуй” (haven’t got) then they shake their head and cross their arms across their chest, the sign for “we’re closed”..... Ok, so why did you let me come in, sit down and order before telling me this?!?
Kate and I went to an “Italian” restaurant the other day, quite a posh one, as K was wanting to treat us. We were seated by a vacant looking young man and then left for ten minutes, we had to go and find him to try and place our order, we both wanted pasta, which we found was “багуй”. SO we went to another little place, that does cheap eats, and we both ordered the same dish of beef and rice. We both got different things, which were not beef or rice. This happens sometimes, we have ordered different things before, and been brought out the same dish each (not what either of us ordered), or one will order something and be brought something different. Most of the time what you get it perfectly nice, so its fine, but sometimes you get something truly weird, like spaghetti with cream and cinnamon....
There is a cheap burger place that we used to go to, that is run by an American Mongolian, but he has not been here for the last few weeks and the place is falling apart. Orders take aaaaaages to come, then they are put on the counter and left – it is tantalising to see the food you have waited so long for, and watch the waitress faffing about doing something else, every now and again she will look over, dispassionately, at the food, waiting to be delivered, and then go back to dusting the door handle or whatever other non-urgent task she is performing. Then you find that the burger is undercooked and the bun is stale. Bad news, we don’t go there anymore.
Sometimes I am left utterly non-plussed by the Mongolian ways.
The other day I mentioned to my over-zealous colleague that I felt run down, and wondered if I was slightly anaemic. He immediately whipped me off to the Korean Hospital for a blood test.
I had to go to the desk and “register” – this consisted of giving my name and date of birth to a girl behind a desk, and receiving in return a card with my name on it. I was sent off to another room where I poked my head in and told someone who was sitting at a desk that I needed a CBC. She typed something into a computer (while a Mongolian man leaned past me, talking roughly at her) and I then had to go back to a different desk to pay. Then I was sent upstairs to have the blood taken.
In the UK we take blood from the vein in the crook of the elbow, here the nurse put a small needle in the vein in the back of my hand and drew the blood through a tube into a container. She was very proficient, but seemed detached. I walked into the room while another patient was having blood taken. Normally (in UK) one would immediately retreat, apologising, but I knew that if I did this then someone else would just push in front of me – this is the Mongol way – so I stayed, neither the nurse nor the patient batted an eyelid.
I had a peek into some of the wards as I walked through the hospital, it is a private hospital, so much more snazzy than the one I work at.
When the boys heard I had been to the hospital they naturally asked what was wrong with me, and I had to say, feebly, that I was just feeling a bit wibbly due to the intense heat. I don’t know if I will ever live this down, every time I now say anything about the heat they ask if I need to go to hospital...or they will feign melodrama, put on a falsetto and say, hand on forehead, “ooh its so hot, maybe I should go and get a blood test”. Very funny.
But I do have to say, the heat is pretty ferocious. It has been in the high 30’s on and off for weeks now, too long outside and I feel like I am being cooked alive. The only reprieve we get is torrential rain every now and again, which is very annoying, but the Mongolians love it. I have a dark tan on my arms and shoulders, and feet, but the rest of me is still pretty pale as I only get the sun walking around town, there is nowhere to go and sunbathe. Although I plan to get out to swim in the river as soon as poss, and try and even up my skin tone as I am one stripy lady at the moment.
SO – there is a little bit more about day to day life. The other day I went to walk around the monastery and then went for a massage – but I am waiting for photos of these little trips, so will talk about them when I can illustrate them.
Work-wise, things are slow. No one seems to care what I am doing! Although my boss came to me the other day and said she had been talking to one of my students, who talked highly of my lessons and was implementing some of the things I had taught, into practice in her department. That was incredibly gratifying to hear. I did think, throughout the course, that the nurses were warming to me, and starting to understand why I was talking about these things, I tried to make what I taught follow a coherent pattern, and link up rationales for certain practices, but I didn’t get much feedback and had begun to get disheartened.
My boss also told me that she wanted me to stay for another year in my post, which was very touching. I don’t think I will do it though, as much as I like my job, I feel there are more things, new challenges, better opportunities, on the horizon. I don’t know what they are or whether I will even recognise them when I see them, but something will happen I am sure of it......
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