July 12th-16th: Back to Ulaanbaatar

July 12^th

Boloroo and I got dressed and headed to the local Khuvsgul Naadam.  Minutes after arrival, we got a call from ML, a young local shamaness, asking if we could come over now.  We rushed over as fast as we could, buying the appropriate gifts and offerings on the way. I was shocked, when we arrived, to find that ML was only around 22 years old. Today would be the hair cutting of her 3 year old son, but she had decided to shamanize for us first.  This was a surprise and an honor as it turns out she generally refuses to meet with foreigners. She explained that I was the first foreigner she had ever shamanized for and that if others asked she would refuse.   This reputation of refusing foreigners was backed up by other locals. 

Despite it being daytime, and her spirits preferring to be called at night, she agreed to shamanize for us.  I had never seen a woman, much less one so young, shamanize, and it was fascinating.  She massaged my head to help a migraine I was having and answered some research questions.  It was amazing to watch the gruff mannerisms of an old man coming from the previously demure and sweet young woman. 

When she finished, we joined her family for lunch and to help cut the hair of her 3 year old.  I was given a wooden knife-like object with which to ritually brush his hair, and then I was given a pair of scissors tied with a blue Khadag and cut a small lock of hair, which I placed in a bag.  Boloroo did the same and we both made a small gift of money to celebrate the boy’s birthday.

We hopped back into the car and made our way back to Naadam in perfect time to watch the wrestling.  Suddenly, the rain started pouring torrentially! We ran quickly into Serdamba’s ger, where his wife was making and selling Khuushuur.  We ate her delicious khuushuur as we waited for the storm to pass.  By the time the storm had passed, sadly the wrestling, and thus Naadam, was finished. But we still enjoyed taking photos with the wrestlers and congratulating them on their win.

We went back to Serdamba’s place and Boloroo went off to join her grandmother for a bit.  At this point, the manager of the tour company that was supposed to take me to the Taiga called.  Apparently, the guide’s flirtation with me, calling me to tell me how beautiful I am, texting, offering to translate etc, were being taken as my misbehavior and I was being removed from the trip. I told the manager in no uncertain terms that the fault lay entirely with his guide. 

Frustrated, I went to talk to Serdamba, who immediately offered to take me to the Taiga himself.  For less than half the price of Nomadic Trails, I could go with a local up to the Taiga. No tourist shamans or stupid tourist stops, but actually travelling with a friend of the Taiga shamans. 

When Boloroo came back, we talked for a while.  I realized that I was honestly just tired and kind of wanted to come back to UB. I was missing things like fresh vegetables and my friends in UB.  We called T, who offered to hook me up with trust worthy, non-tourist shamans in UB as well as his own students, and to allow me to watch some things which are generally private.  A much better opportunity.

I also realized that, as much as I wanted to go to the Taiga, everyone researches the Dukha shamans in the Taiga and the Darhad shamans near khuvsgul.  Nobody researches the shamans in the city.  They are generally disregarded as charlatans. No one stops to remember that 50% of Mongolians now live in Ulaanbaatar, and most of them are not originally from the city.  Many, if not most, of the so-called “city shamans” are actually country shamans who had no economic opportunities in their hometowns, and moved into the city.  I have trustworthy friends among the city shamans, good contacts, and an untouched research opportunity.  Instead of trying to do a survey of shamanism across the country, I should do a personal case study of the Dorvud shamans residing in the ger district of UB.

T agreed with my decision, as did Boloroo and Serdamba.  Serdamba also told me that one of the most famous Darhad shamans will be visiting Khuvsgul in mid August and that when I come with my dad, Serdamba will help me arrange an interview.  He also promised to speak to his friend, the most famous shaman of the Taiga, and thus all of Mongolia, and will ask him to come to Khuvsgul when my dad is there, to meet for a private interview.  I thanked him profusely.  Thanks to the kindness of Serdamba and friends, I had far better opportunities in front of me than those offered by a for-profit tour company.

July 13^th

Once I made the decision to go home to UB, I realized I just needed to go. I didn’t want to take 20 hours on a bus, I didn’t want to struggle to get back. I was willing to pay the money to be back in UB as soon as possible. We thanked Serdamba and his kind family, and promised to return with my father in a few weeks.  Boloroo and I got into a car to Murun, an hour away.

T called us on the way to let us know that A and his wife, B, wanted to invite us to stay with them in Bulgan.  I could spend a few days, watch A shamanize and do research with him, relax with their family, and enjoy the country side. It sounded tempting.  But then we found out that the ride would be 12 hours due to construction in the area.  I just couldn’t do it.  The stress and exhaustion of the past few days was getting to me.  We called A to tell him I was tired and needed to rest.  Good heartedly, he said “Then just come here, you will rest here!”

Normally, this comment would have been taken with grace, but I was so stressed, so tired, so frustrated with trying to make plans and having them changed, and not getting any private time that I just broke down and started crying.  Poor A assured Boloroo that it was OK and I was invited to visit them later, and not to cry.  I told him that I would definitely come visit after I had a few days to relax and get some “me” time.  A promised his home would be open to us.  I was grateful to have such kind friends at a time of frustration.

Boloroo and I made it to the airport, and an hour and a half before the flight bought our tickets (around $100 a piece).  It was Boloroo’s first time on a plane, so I got to share her joy and wonder at watching the magical expanse of the Mongolian landscape from above.

At the end of the hour long ride, we made our way out of the airport and took a taxi to Tolgoit.  We arrived a few minutes before S, who let us in.  The guard dog, Zig, who recognizes me and doesn’t mind me, went berserk at the taxi driver. S tried to hold him back, but Zig managed to get away and tried to bite the poor driver.  We shoved him inside and got the dog away.  We felt awful about the driver and took care of him for a bit. He assured us that everything was fine, but we were shaken as well.

After he went off, I relaxed for a bit.  I woke up to the sound of someone arriving at home.  Baagii, my friend from my first trip to Mongolia, came through the door!  I smiled and greeted him enthusiastically, he had been one of my favorite new friends on my first trip and I hadn’t managed to see him on my second trip.  Baagii smiled and joined us.

“You still don’t drink beer?” He asked, with wonder.

“Nope.” I replied. “I still don’t drink horse piss.”

Baagii laughed.  “Vodka then?”

I laughed back, “Yes, Vodka as long as you promise to buy me juice too.”

It was still Naadam in UB, so with Naadam, the world cup final, and a meeting of friends for the first time in a year all coinciding, we had to share a toast.  Baagii headed out to a shop and came back with two beers, a small bottle of vodka, and a large bottle of grape juice.  

Unfortunately, before our mini-party had even started, I made a run to the outhouse.  In the bad dusk lighting, I took a misstep and badly twisted my ankle.  I managed to use the outhouse and came back inside.  Since I was taking ibuprofen for the ankle, I didn’t have much vodka, but still had a small toasts over the next few hours to celebrate naadam, world cup final, and time with friends.   We stayed up late, trying to stay awake for the world final, but I was falling asleep by 2 AM.  I crawled (literally) into bed and went to sleep and Baagii headed home.

July 14^th

I woke up with excruciating pain in my massively swollen ankle. I took some aleve and showed S.  She immediately whipped up a local remedy: a salt tea compress, which I wrapped on my ankle.  With G’s help (the daughter), I hobbled my way to a medical shop and got an ace bandage. I spent the rest of the day lying down.

In the evening, Enkhule and Baagii came over with juice and soda and a few beers for them, and we sat around talking, singing, and joking for hours. Enkhule even tried to get me up doing one-footed dancing.  The kids were giggling and of course I couldn’t manage it.  It was a chance for the three of us to have a heart-to-heart, which I desperately needed.

July 15^th

When I got up in the morning, my ankle felt significantly better. I wrapped it carefully and went into town to get some vegetables. I met Altankhuu for lunch and had a long heart-to-heart with one of my Emma Willard classmates who is now in Mongolia for the peace corp. 

I came home and made tenthuk (Tibetan noodle soup) for my host family, including a cousin’s family.

I know, I’m not writing much, but I’m not doing much with the bad ankle!!!

July 16^th

I made my way into town pretty early to get my ankle checked out by the nurses at Dashchoiling. Everything looked in order as a sprain and I’m instructed to bandage it up.  I also checked out the hotel for my dad to stay in when he comes and booked a slightly larger room for each of us. 

Part way through the afternoon, when a friend called to cancel on plans, I suddenly realized I was dying for me time. I was so starved of personal time that I was on the brink of tears. It doesn’t happen often in America, because I get private time, but here, it’s near impossible. I turned to Altankhuu and asked him “Look, would it be totally unreasonable and a waste of money to book a hotel for the night? Just to get some private time for myself?”

“Do it!” he said without hesitation. “We all need personal time. Take it.”  He offered to drive me to the hotel where my brother and I had stayed before.  We talked about development ideas for Mongolia and the monastery, about Tibetan music from his time in Amdo, and I got a chance to relax a bit.  He dropped me off at the hotel after helping me book a large single room and I just vegged out.  My Emma Willard classmate called me and we talked about our mutual culture shock issues for a while and then I just sat watching National Geographic (the only channel in English) for several hours.

I went out and got Turkish food, took a LONG shower, and vegged out for a while, reading, chatting online, watching TV.  I needed it.