Gold Medals and My First Asian Kiss: A Wanderer's Tale

I am sitting here at the first day of work, already finding time to slack off and work on the old blog. The good news of the day is that one of my coworkers, Muz or The Siberian Moose as I am not calling him, told me that he can lend me a wireless modem for the year that will pick up Mongolian WiFi. Or MoFi as the locals say.

Yesterday was an absolutely amazing day. It started out with a trip to the Gandan Temple, one of the premiere sights to see in Ulaanbaatar. The temple is one of the last standing since the Soviets leveled most of them in the 1930s. This one was kept as a tourist trap, and what a trap it was. The temple is home to over 150 monks of all ages and genders and for each single monk there are roughly 100 or more pigeons. The Gandan Temple is in need of a Bolivian Tree Lizard infestation and fast. The temple itself was great, the highlights being a 100 foot tall statue of Buddha, and all of the locals coming here to worship. Though I didn't understand any of the ceremonies, I was intrigued and want to learn more.

I thought this would be the highpoint of my day, but walking home I noticed a massive crowd standing outside the State Department Store. Now they don't usually have mutton sales on Sundays so I knew something was awry. Turns out, they were watching lightweight boxing sensation, Enkhbat Badar-Uugan, collect Mongolia's second gold medal in their history and of these Olympics. The match was not even close, and following it came the greatest display of nationalism I have seen since being in La Paz when Bolivia qualified for its first world cup. It seems in both Bolivia and Mongolia, the natural response to an athletic conquest is to get in your car to drive around honking horns and waving flags. Many people were equipped with boxing gloves and helmets, while others simply adorned drunken smiles.

In order to escape the madness I went and sat down in a less crowded park. Immediately I was flanked by two (seemingly) homeless men, hopped up on what I thought was Mongolian pride, but in fact turned out to be vodka. We hit it off. One of the guys was wearing a Canada hat, so we had an immediate connection. Though they knew no English and I knew no Mongolian, I pointed to the words "Gold", "Happy", and "Congratulations" in my phrase book and each was met with more hugs and high fives. They then presented their victory juice which took the form of Chinngis Khan National Vodka. Shots were doled out from a dirty old ashtray. I wanted to decline, but luckily I did not. Sadly our time together had to come to an end, but not before my Canadian compadre gave me a giant hug and kissed my several times on my cheeks. I tell you, for a guy with no teeth, his kiss was amazingly firm.

Returning home, I stopped in Sukhbatar square, which houses the parliament building where the main party was happening. I made what I swear is the last frivolous purchase I will make for a while and picked up a Mongolian flag and waved like I've never waved before. Many people loved seeing me with their colors, giving me high fives until my hands were sore. Others must have deemed that I wasn't Mongolian enough to be holding their flag, and asked if they could have it as their god given right. I stood firm however, and waved it against all odds. I almost caved when a little kid tried to trade me some candy for my flag. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong tree as anyone who knows me can tell you I'm a salt man all the way.

Pictures from these and the rest of my adventures will be up soon. The Olympic bash will continue this evening as the president welcomes back the athletes, and who knows what may happen then.

Will I kiss another homeless man? Will I shake the presidents hand? Will I be able to live an entire year with no TV in my dorm?

Stay tuned for the answers to these and other provocative questions, next time on The Second Coming.