April 3, 2019

Coming to Mongolia

About a month before I was scheduled to leave, I was packing up my apartment in Missoula, MT and preparing to say a final goodbye to the kids I'd taken care of at a daycare for the last year and a half. My drive there took me past my old campus, and suddenly the creepiest thing happened to me: the jeep in front of me had a Mongolian flag stuck to its bumper! In four years of living in the most diverse city in Montana I'd never met anyone from Mongolia, or even a single person who'd traveled there! What was Montana Jo with a deer skull sticker on their back-hatch doing with a  bumper sticker of the Mongolian flag? And right in front of me, the day before I was leaving to spend the rest of May with my family before I flew to Mongolia? I was pretty freaked out for the rest of the day, as you can imagine. At least the car didn't crash! That would've been a real scary sign! 

After leaving Missoula for the family farm in Toole county, I prepared myself for travel; I packed and repacked, then repacked some more! I made sure to get wood-chopping lessons from grandpa in caseI wound up somewhere I'd need to split my own wood. I watched my niece get baptised; I spent one last dinner with my best friend and her fiance, along with the three cats that had showed up at their house over the last few years! I said bye to my family and got a surprise going-away party!

RIP cousin Ginny, who left us in October.

Although I didn't arrive in Mongolia until June 5th, June 3rd was really the day when things became new to me. I had traveled before then; my old high school worked with EF Tours, arranging low-cost tours for interested students and chaperones during summers. So I was lucky enough to go to Australia when I was 16, and Costa Rica when I was 17. Before that, the most foreign place I'd been to was Tijuana with my mom, aunt and teenage cousin when I was nine. I think someone in the family had won tickets or something to disneyland but wasn't interested, so we got ourselves a sweet deal! Why not bus down to Tijuana with a 3rd grader in tow? I completed seven whole weeks of archaeology school in British Columbia (shoutout to Bridge River!) and in Vancouver I ate at a sushi restaurant for the first time!

I'd lived my whole life in the same county I was born in, and farming is what my parents and most of my relatives do. In a state where there's more cows than people, traveling can be a big thing. I had the privilege of attending one of Montana's best universities, only a four hour drive from mom and dad!
So, when I stepped off of the airplane into Portland, OR with two years worth of luggage, I felt so relieved to find other Peace Corps trainees there! Leaving the terminal was another experience; would we split into cabs, or try to fit into an uber? Next thing I knew, I was using uber for the first time! Later, when it was time for dinner, I followed the other PCTs (Peace Corps trainees) to Chipotle, which I had also never tried before, even though one had recently opened in Missoula. I didn't know they served beer there! Nobody could imagine how I'd never been to Chipotle before!

After a restful night, we all loaded onto two buses at the crack of dawn, and off to Seattle-Tacoma Airport we went. Up until this point we'd been supervised by our training managers, directors and local PC staff, but once inside that airport, we were bid goodbye and told good luck; resiliency and our ability to fend for ourselves was to begin right then!

And so a herd of roughly 50 or more people, all of whom were packing two years worth of baggage, lined up at Korean Air, during which some frantic rearranging of carry-on items took place, as we learned that our carry-ons would also be weighed; anything more than 15 lbs (I think) would cost a $100.00. I prepared my wallet, convinced my mom's red wheeled suitcase was at least 18 lbs, but no, 14.5 it was! Wew! Our next stop was in South Korea, where a brief layover allowed us to wander the pristine halls of Incheon Airport. As I've mentioned in a previous post, Peace Corps expects us to dress well, and we'd been instructed to arrive in Mongolia wearing our business casuals. So off to the bathrooms we went, which were the whitest, brightest facilities I've ever used! Not long after we all boarded the flight to Ulaanbaatar (spelled Ulan Bator on many English maps)!

The lovely ger I stayed in!
 In the middle of the night we touched down at Chinggis Khaan Airport. We were informed that we would be staying our first week in country at the Chinggis Khaan Khuree ger camp! To be honest the first thing I noticed about Mongolia as I stepped off the plan was the strong smell of either Ulaanbaatar's infamously polluted air or the bodies of all 50 million sheep in the country. A much lighter hint of this smell would make itself known to me throughout my first months here. I could smell it on the dishes I was eating out of, even. In Montana we have cattle everywhere, and the smell of all things bovine is nothing new to me, but more than a few sheep have passed my way and they smell very different from cows.  By the end of my training though, I realised I'd become used to it.When you're used to the smell of livestock, It's kind of comforting to be surrounded by it when you're thousands of miles from home!





March 13, 2019

The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love

Hello everyone! In today's post, I am going to address some of the misconceptions that many people have about the Peace Corps! Please take note that this post is NOT intended to discourage anyone from applying, but rather to inform people of the realities of Peace Corps. 

Most people who research the Peace Corps (from now on I'm abbreviating, so PC) and who take their application seriously understand that once they join, their life will become very different for the next 27 months.

But not does everybody in the US know that the Peace Corps is, in fact, a commitment rather than an "I want to save the world" stint for naive young graduates. I remember when I was younger that when I heard the words "Peace Corps" my mental image was always of some jolly hipster-looking dude in shorts and flip flops; hair untrimmed and living in a grass hut near a tropical forest somewhere nobody has ever seen a phone or laptop. 

The reality is not. even. close.

Dress Code

Sorry Sparky, but even if you wind up someplace right on the equator, you will be subjected to PC's standards of dress. The name of the game is "business casual". As someone who grew up in a world where most standards of dress fell under the "clothes you can get dirty" category, I'm still grateful we don't have to go the whole way, which some volunteers actually do! During training sessions, I saw suit jackets and ties, and once a bolero! For these individuals looking nice is obviously important to them, which I respect even though I don't share their passion for it. I prefer feeling comfortable, and what's comfortable to me is jeans, cowboy boots and tennis shoes. Sure I've attended formal functions with the proper outfits, but all of the jobs I've worked either provided a uniform or there was no dress code at all, aside from common sense! I had to ask my mom for help to find the right clothing (thanks, Mom!). 


No
Yes
So yeah, no flip flops, no tank tops, and keep it modest - both men and women. The dress code itself aside, the US is almost uniquely casual in it's day to day styles of dress. I have seen my students here cleaning their shoes more than once! During training, we were constantly reminded by PC staff to keep our shoes shining! I'd actually had experience from polishing my nicer pairs of cowboy boots before, so I was kind of prepared, although I didn't pack any polish with me. It seemed most of my cohort - not all, but most - were a little taken aback by this since in the US we're generally not raised to think about how clean our shoes look to others. Mongolians will often stop and brush off their shoes and pants before entering a room, and they're not afraid to comment on how nice or ruffled your appearance is. During IST (In-service training, December) we had an anonymous group discussion between Mongolian CPs (Counterparts; the locals we work with) with questions written on pieces of paper, and one of the Mongolians asked why American women don't wear more elegant shirts. Ouch!


Work

So the PC is a volunteer organization; we don't get paid, we receive a monthly stipend for food, sundries and rent. Essentially though, we're still working. We are associated with an HCA, or Host Country Agency. Aside from our main duties to our HCA, we often help to facilitate grassroot projects in our communities. These projects vary in kind and scope and are intended to be sustainable for the benefit of the community members. 

Funnily enough, PC volunteers the world over report that they have more free time than they could've ever imagined. It's not at all unusual for volunteers to pick up several new hobbies throughout their service! You'd think all this free time would be considered a major perk by volunteers, and while I'm not complaining, it can be a challenge, especially after training...


PST

PST, Pre Service Training, happens the week after volunteers arrive in country, but during the first week we are immediately kept busy. For five days straight we woke up at dawn, ate breakfast and then immediately we had back-to-back sessions on health, safety, who the staff are, what the expectations of the trainees are and probably more subjects that I don't remember. At noon we had a 15 minute tea break, a time that quickly became sacred after sitting, standing to stay awake, and then sitting some more. Lunch was around 1:30 or so. Sessions stopped around 5:30. 

As soon as the weekend hit, we were bussed out to separate training sites. From then on it was a regular 9 to 5 schedule, with Mongolian language in the morning and technical training after lunch with our host families. Some of us walked about a mile and a half to and from the schools where we trained. I averaged about 3 miles a day, walking to school in the morning, then back to my host family for lunch; back to the school after lunch and then back home. All that plus living with a host family plus culture shock plus homesickness equaled all kinds of stress levels! And the PC intentionally makes training strenuous; the goal is to have resilient (the staff continue to use that word so much that trainees avoid using at all costs), capable volunteers before they're sent off to live in a foreign community for more than two years. 

I really surprised myself because I found that I loved the challenge of PST. Don't get me wrong, I cried plenty of times during training, but at the end of each week I found that I was thoroughly enjoying the experience.There were even times when I thought they should make training even more challenging! PC management will throw in curveballs throughout the training process with no warning; they do this to throw off the schedule the trainees have grown accustomed to. Why? Because during service the schedules, plans and projects which volunteers have worked hard to maintain do not always go as planned; this is a common source of frustration for volunteers. The PC wants to know if trainees are able and ready to commit to two years of service, and they do test us to that effect. For me, personally I'm glad they do that because there were times when I would have to sit and think about how I was reacting to certain things, how I was coping with any issues I had and whatnot.  


What I'd like for readers to take away from this post is that the Peace Corps is a commitment. There are lots of fun moments of goofing off, exploring a different culture, and you definitely discover things about yourself. Volunteers make an effort at what they do; the awesome instagram posts on their accounts are only snapshots of their daily lives, just like in the states. Yes, many of us have fun figuring out how to haul water like a pro, eat strange food and communicate in a different language, but these same things also can be frustrating and stress inducing. Oddly enough, that seems to be what attracted us to volunteer in the first place!







March 12, 2019

Nine Months In

Well, I've survived thus far, folks! It's been nine months, but before I recount all the crazy, exhausting and great times I've had so far, I'd better give you some background information on my new home!

Related image
This is Mongolia; the dark red splotch at the bottom is named "Umnugovi" pronounced ooh-m'n-goiv, meaning the South Gobi.
 Peace Corps tells us that stating our exact whereabouts may not always be the smartest option, so for the sake of following good advice, I'll just say that I live in a very small village in Umnugovi. 

In the U.S. we have states, in Mongolia there are "aimags". Americans have state capitals, Mongolians have aimag centers, which are generally the biggest towns. Then there's "soums" which are the districts/counties within an aimag. Each soum has a soum-center, or county seat. Other small towns in the soum are also referred to as "soums". There are also "bags" the smallest administrative unit. The "bags" I've encountered are literally just a few buildings for gatherings or storage. This makes sense as nomadic families are centered around "bags" rather than sedentary ones.  


It's always interesting talking to Mongolians when they ask me where I'm living. Some of them are very surprised or confused as to why I would want to live in a soum, rather than an aimag center. Most Mongolians are more pleasantly surprised though, and want to know how well I'm adjusting. Soum life isn't very easy, especially if you live in a ger (most Americans know this as a yurt). Many people in soums do live in gers, but there are also a few apartments, and plenty of houses. A lot of people have a house and a ger inside their "khashaa" which is a fenced-in yard. Khashaas are generally big enough for two modest sized dwellings, two or three cars and storage space; so yeah, pretty roomy.

 Site Placement


During PST (pre-service training) - our two-and-a-half month training gig - we trainees are interviewed for our skills and preferences pertaining to future sites. However, we are reminded on a regular basis that our preferences hold far less sway than our skill sets and the needs of the communities that apply for volunteers. If you have a very strong preference for one place over another, then you'd better have a good reason for that preference and lay it out clearly and honestly to the interviewers.

I might be a bad example for the "don't make any wishes" front, since I got everything I wanted. I applied directly to Mongolia, and I was sent to Mongolia; I asked to be placed rurally and not in a city, and they underlined that in their notes. I even live in a ger! Trainees don't actually get to choose what kind of dwelling they will live in, though. There is a common trope about Peace Corps volunteers being "earthy" types, and that we romanticize the "traditional" lifestyle of our host country; but after training most of us come to realize what we are personally capable of on a day to day basis, and my own housing preferences became more flexible. In the end, whatever the community is able to provide, and as long as it reaches Peace Corps's standards, is what volunteers get.

During my interview I said I'd enjoyed living in a ger so far, and that a house or apartment would be just as fine, but as soon as I said "I live in a ger with my host family, I don't mind it at all" the interviewer immediately muttered "ger" and underlined the word twice! When they asked what my preferences were geographically, I mentioned that the Gobi was very interesting to me, and that one statement may have sealed my fate. You see, word has it that over the years, many past volunteers who were placed in the Gobi would tell the newer trainees that the Gobi was the worst place to be sent! This apparently affected the new volunteers so that they were all anxious and disappointed when they were themselves sent to the Gobi! I was surprised to hear this, since the Gobi desert is so famous.

Getting your site placement is it's own adventure! Once training is all done and every one (about 55 or so) is together, we're herded into a room with the biggest map I've ever seen in my life! This map clearly shows every aimag, aimag center, and soum. Before even being sworn in (yes, PCVs take an oath of service) we have no idea where we're headed for the next two years! You can almost hear the emotions buzzing. We were eventually told to sit down, and the next thing we knew a name was called and we realized it had begun!

As the parade of red-faced and excited trainees went on, clutching folders of information on their sites, those of us who were still waiting must've been jumping inside! Forget butterflies in the stomach, we were darn near about to metamorphosize ourselves! When they did say my name and where I was going, I jumped off my seat on the floor! I got the Gobi! I got the freaking Gobi! Some people later said I'd looked like the happiest person in the room, and I believe it!

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