21-28, visit to Bulgan and coming home

July 21^st

I went in to the office and did a ton of uploading. Nothing particularly exciting, but it was important work. I also met a fellow MA student researching shamanism and the roles and concepts of violence in shamanism. I thought this was interesting and showed her some of my journals involving the use of ritual (yet very painful) beating, drawing of blood, whipping, etc.

I called Enkhule and we met for lunch, sat and talked for a while, and ate delicious pizza at Rosewood Café.

In the afternoon, I went back to M’s mother’s house and played with the kids. Then we headed home. M would be shamanizing that night, and his family would be coming over to partake.  When we got home, I helped arrange the shrine room, which is currently doubling as my bedroom. Although I am less familiar with the ritual arrangements, I am familiar at this point with the more functional arrangements, like the way it has to be cleaned up, the way the mirror has to be covered, etc.  S dealt with arranging the shrine and the like.  I am getting familiar with certain ritual duties, for example at one point, the shamans drum was far from him, but I recognized that he would need it soon, and (after a quick eyecontact with S to make sure I was right) went to appropriately retrieve and arrange it. 

This evening, family members and one community member who I have not met, came for shamanizing.  Since M’s grandmother spirit is an accomplished healer, I decided to ask her about my injured ankle as well as my wrist, which was injured several years ago and never quite healed properly.   Grandmother massaged my ankle for a while, at one point so painfully I cried out.  She instructed me to keep it warm and compressed for 3 days and nights by wearing 3 layers of socks.  For my wrist, she was unhappy that the injury had occurred so long ago and instructed me to drink airag for 3 days and then come back to her. I happily agreed. 

After all the shamanizing, the men brought in dinner: two sheeps heads.   Already struggling with homesickness, the idea of eating a sheeps head was just too much.  I was already sick of nothing but mutton, and the head is especially strong and fatty.  When I was offered the eyeball, I successfully refused, then excused myself to the toilet. I gave myself permission to cry for 3 minutes, then caught my breath and came inside.  Culture shock was piling up and it was just a question of when I would break.

July 22^nd

M and I got up in the morning preparing to go to Bulgan. M needed to bring my passport to the Dragon Center, the bus station, and on the way realized that his own ID card was at his mother’s home, leading him on a crazy chase around the city.  I was nursing a headache from all the stress the previous night and stayed in bed. S, meanwhile, was making food for us to take on the bus.  I was awoken by a familiar smell and walked over the stove to find S making latkes.  She noticed my surprise, “I learned watching you make them. I’m also making Khuushuur.”

She had clearly noticed my discomfort and homesickness the night before and, very sweetly, made traditional Jewish food for the bus for me.  I was deeply touched and went off to the store to buy bottles of water and juice for our bus ride.

The bus itself was surprisingly comfortable, and the ride was about 7 hours. I spent the entirety of it riding. M spent most sleeping.

We arrived around 7:30 PM in Bulgan.  A came to pick us up at the bus station and his friend Bayna was driving. Bayna surprised me by speaking decent English which he had, strangely enough, learned in two years in paris.  So I started to speak to him in French.

We went on a bit of a wild adventure to try and get traditional gifts for our host. The candy and cookies were easy, but apparently getting vodka on a Tuesday in Bulgan is not easy.

We did, however, eventually succeed in our quest and made t over to A’s ger. His wife, B, was making Tsuivan (a sort of Mongolian chow mein) and there was also plenty of my least favorite drink ever: nermel.  I still can’t drink more than a sip without wanting to throw up.  However, I tried to drink enough to be polite.

It was enough to make me throw up, however.  This one just triggers me. And that was all I needed to have my little break down.  After throwing up I just started sobbing. Sitting in the grass, saying “I miss my mom, I miss my dad. I can’t do this, I want to go home.” Again and again and again.  Everyone was very concerned about me, especially M, who considers himself to be my brother.   I’m not sure how long I was out there, I needed to let everything out, both physically and emotionally.  I also hate throwing up, to a pretty extreme extent, which made the crying worse.

I came inside a bit later, shaking uncontrollably, and still crying a bit. Everyone was really nice about it, although they weren’t entirely sure what the problem was.   I was tucked into cozy blankets on a mat in front of the altar and went to sleep.

July 23

I was woken up early by A telling me they would be milking the cows, did I want to watch?  I went out to watch, which was nice, then rolled over and went back to sleep.  This time, I woke up to a giant metal contraption over the stove.  B was working steadfastly over it. I mumbled out, in Mongolian “What are you doing?”

“Distilling vodka!” she answered.  Of course! Every morning, some of the fermented horse milk would be distilled in to Nermel.

When M woke up he took me outside for a walk.

“Yesterday’s problem, OK? You can tell me. I’m your Mongolian brother.” He assured me.  I told him I was fine. I was a bit homesick. I hadn’t seen either parent since March, I was struggling with some culture shock, exhausted, and just had a little homesick breakdown. The throwing up was just the catalyst.  The pain of being sick, of throwing up because I can’t cope with the taste of a local liquor, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

M watched me carefully throughout the day to make sure I really was OK.  Everyone else was concerned as well. It was very sweet. M offered to take me on a horse ride up to the river where A gathered water. This sounded like a great plan.  We mounted our horses and decided to take a slow ride up to the river, about a mile and a half.  When we reached the river, A joined us by motorcycle to gather water for the ger.  Unfortunately, a pack of horses had run around up river, kicking up a lot of dirt, so the water was not potable and A had to chase away the horses and wait a while. 

We waited and let our horses graze and water.  A light rain started, but we weren’t too concerned. When the rain started to get a bit heavier, we mounted our horses to head back.  Not far into the ride, the rain became torrential. None of us were expecting it, so we were completely unprepared.  I urged on my horse to move faster, but when the hail began, he refused to run towards the ger, which was also into the wind and the hail.  So here I was, wearing a t-shirt, on a horse that refused to move, in a hail storm.  It stung.  A came over on the motorbike and with his help (as well as the hail starting to let up) we were able to basically drag the horse home. I was, literally, soaked through to my underwear. 

Inside the ger, I changed my clothes and hid under some blankets and refused to come out until I was warm. M and A did similar.

But that night was a special night. A and B’s daughter Marlaa was turning 2.  M and A disappeared in Bayna’s car and came back with a veritable feast.  B made rice, mutton and potato stew, and M and A brought back fruit juice, cola, plums, apples, toffees, and of course, a birthday cake.  Marlaa was thrilled.  She was stuffing her mouth with fruit after fruit after fruit.  Fruit is a very rare treat in the country side.  Her cousin brought her a big cup full of freshly picked strawberries (and brought me a cup as well, which I shared. It was delicious.)  I gave Marlaa a bag of tootsie rolls and a pez dispenser.  M gave her a cute miniature pink purse, filled with candies. 

We shared fruit juice and candies and sweets and all went to sleep very happy.

July 24

On this day, A, B, M and I decided to ride up to A’s grandparent’s ovoo, as well as the mountain just beyond it. Because there were only 3 horses, and four of us, A went by motorcycle.  We rode up to the ovoo and everyone made traditional offerings of airag and aaruul (dried cheese).  We remounted our horses (mine stepped on my foot) and then made our way further up the mountain.  Here, we tied our horses to some pine trees. The men pulled out beers, and B told me that there were strawberries down in the forest. I made my way down a little bit and, after much searching, came back with a heaping handful of delicious wild strawberries.  I shared it with the rest, and we sat in the shade of the pine trees and relaxed.  At one point, we heard a loud CRACK as a horse managed to break off the branch it was tied to. The men scrambled to their feet and chased down the horse and tied it to a different tree.

We rode back to the ger and relaxed inside for a while.  I helped B make buuz stuffed with chopped offal.  It works better as buuz. It really does.  Then I relaxed a bit, reading a book, playing dice with everyone and just having a nice time.  In the evening, another friend came over with another cake, so we had another small party for Marlaa and played more dice.

July 25^th,

In the morning, A was supposed to shamanize, but it kept getting postponed and eventually just didn’t happen.  But in the afternoon, we all got together and drove to a local river.  Bayna’s wife and baby also came, so there were two little babies playing around, which was very cute.

A few of the men went to hunt marmot while B and M went fishing.  M, despite his patience, didn’t catch anything. But B caught two small fish.  We roasted them on the fire after making the marmot.  The marmot was prepared the traditional way, stuffed with hot rocks.  It’s not my favorite meat, as it’s a bit too gamey, but it is still good.  The roasted fish were lovely. 

We shared cola, vodka, airag, beer, and fruit juice (the last being at my insistence).

The men began drinking a bit too much, however.  We made it home late and the men kept drinking. I wanted to sleep, but they were being extraordinarily loud.  Sometimes they would drunkenly lean over and lean on my injured ankle. The third time this happened, I just yelled at them.  Eventually they went to sleep.

July 26^th

I woke up at 10, horrified. My phone battery had died and we hadn’t set an alternate alarm clock. The bus was at 11.  I yelled at M to wake up.  As I rushed to pack, A’s father told us that the bus left at 10.  Bayna, wanting us to stay an extra day had as a “joke” told us the bus was leaving at 11 on weekends. I was fucking furious.  I actually lost my cool. A rarity for me. Threw my deel on the ground and stormed out of the ger.  M realized how royally pissed I was and yelled at the appropriate people on my behalf before coming out to get me.  He managed to arrange for us to get back, although it was a more frustrating way.

We said our goodbyes and were sent off with 10 liters of Airag, one liter of Nermel, and a large bag of aaruul.  We drove over to a neighboring house to say our goodbyes. I stayed in the car because I was in a very bad mood and didn’t know this person especially well.  Suddenly I heard a slap, followed by screaming.  I could see through the door the husband hitting his wife.  I just stayed in the car. There was nothing I could do. She stormed out crying a few minutes later and made her way into a neighboring ger, presumably also belonging to the family.

Bayna drove us to Bulgan along with A.  We got lunch, caught a group car to Erdenet and from there, a group minivan to Ulaanbaatar.  I was happy to be back to the rest of my Mongolian family.   Soyloo made a delicious dinner of noodle soup with chunks of meat and potatoes and scallion laced noodles.  We made up my bed on the floor and I collapsed to a peaceful sleep.

July 27^th.

We all had a relaxed and slow morning, but we knew our plan for the day.  I’ve been asked to shoot some footage in Mongolia for a friend, so we decided the ideal place would be Narantuul market in the shaman section.  I decided to try a prank I’ve been wanting to pull.  I put my money in my leg pocket and pulled my boots over it.  I grabbed four pieces of paper, some red and black colored pencils and red and black string. 

I carefully drew with the red and black pencils ominous, yet meaningless, geometric designs.  I folded the paper, wrote “THIEF” on the back in Mongolian, then criss-crossed red and black thread.  Uukaa egch was home and I showed it to her, she agreed it looked sufficiently curse-like.

I put one “curse” in each accessible pocket and we hit the road. 

Our first stop was the post office, to pick up a drum that I had commissioned by an Aleut artist from just outside of Washington.  The drum was 22 inches, hand made, with a haida wolf painted on the skin.  At the post office, we had to go to the customs section, where I had to pay $50 for importing the drum.  We had to open the box to show that it was a drum, but it was face down, so we could not see the painting. 

M insisted it remain a surprise, so after we showed that it was a drum, we sealed the drum.  I was dying for some non-Mongolian food, so we went to a Turkish restaurant I like.  It was M’s first time eating Turkish food, and his nephew, Temuujin joined us.  They adored Turkish food.

Then it was time to go to Naran tuul.  We shot the footage we needed (y’all have to wait for that…).  We also picked up the sur, leather strap, that M’s grandmother spirit had requested for a sahius (good luck charm) for me.

Throughout the market, I kept checking my pockets (my money was well hidden) to find that all of my “curses” were still there. I was truly disappointed.  But finally, as we were just leaving, I checked my front right pocket to discover one curse was gone!  I hi-fived M who cheered and pumped his fist. We were pretty psyched. I was just sad that we couldn’t see the face of the thief.

We stopped at M’s mother’s home where I finally got to take a shower.

That evening, M shamanized. His whole family came. Before the shamanizing, they all admired the drum, taking turns striking it. This would be their only chance to do so. After the drum was “enlivened” it would be off limits for anyone other than the shaman.

M began to shamanize, and first came grandfather. I presented the drum, which grandfather admired.  Grandfather tested the drum and approved. He called for milk and we realized that we did not, in fact, have any. We sent someone out to get milk and apologized to grandfather.  Grandfather called over O, M’s sister who is also a shaman, and asked her to test the drum. She drummed and declared that she felt a bit ‘high’ from it. Which is good. He gave her vodka and nermel to help recenter her spirit. Soon after, a family member returned with milk.  Grandfather poured milk over the drum, spinning it around and admiring the sinew back which made spinning it so easy.  He then poured vodka over the drum and rubbed them in with his sleeve.  He gave the drum to O to try again, she approved.  Grandfather also approved and thanked me for the drum.

Grandmother also appreciated the drum.  What happened in regards to grandmother has been written up in my essay “crisis” and I don’t really want to write it again.

After M recovered from Shamanizing, we relaxed with some food and a few drinks, necessary after such a scary evening.

July 28^th

I went in to the office in the morning.  I uploaded some videos, which took a long time, and basically spent my day monitoring a computer.  Not fun, but necessary.

Hulan called me and asked if I would be going over to M’s house because he would be shamanizing again. I told her that I was and we met near the state department store to head over.  Hulan speaks decent English and is trying to learn, so we’ve been helping each other a lot.

M shamanized again, and because of something that grandmother had said last time, we got to have some fun with goat liver.  M’s brother-in-law heated up some stones with a blowtorch and then the stones were half submerged in water and we had to take slices of raw goat liver and slap them against the stones, which seared the outside, leaving the inside entirely raw.  We then had to eat them.  I was gagging. I had to concentrate on my breathing and mindful chewing. I wasn’t the only one.  M’s sister was reacting about the same as me.

M did some private shamanizing for certain people and finished quite late.  He was exhausted and asked me to give him a hand and arm massage, in the traditional Mongolian style. As I started to do so, M’s brother in law came over and said “No, you should do like this!” and he slipped his hands into a position I recognized from Thai massage.  He started showing off about doing Thai massage. M scolded him, saying he needed traditional Mongolian massage. I couldn’t resist, I turned around and started speaking to BiL in Thai.  M cracked up, brother in law’s eyes just went wide.   I explained then, in Thai, that I had lived in Thailand when I was 17 and studied thai massage.  We all had a good laugh over that.

July 29^th

In the morning I went into the city to try and arrange flights and cars for my dad.  It took a bit of running around, but we got everything figured out. I also came to find that one plan on the itinerary was stupid, because I didn’t understand the direction of the places we were going, so I changed that and re arranged our hotel booking to reflect it.

I went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for Momo (Tibetan dumplings) and came home to cook for the family. M was shamanizing again, so I waited outside for him to finish.  Then, with U and Hulan’s help, we made about 80 momo for the family. They really enjoyed it. Even Enkhule came over to eat.

S told me that they would be going to the country side tomorrow, which I couldn’t do because I had some meetings I couldn’t miss. I asked how long. They said a week. This was a bit of a problem.  I said I could stay with friends in UB so it wouldn’t be an issue. The extended family will go out to the country on the weekend, and I will join them for that, but otherwise, I will stay in the city. I have some meetings to prepare stuff for my dad, as well as some interviews that I don’t want to miss.