My First Week

It's been a long, long week, fellow Blogthusiasts. Both for me, for America, and for the world. Let's start with American news. This week saw the coming of one of the most dreaded and horrible natural phenomena that America has to prepare for. Something that under improper action and preparation can ravage the nation.

I'm talking of course about the Republican National Convention.

What's the difference between Sarah Palin and Hurricane Gustav?

Gustav doesn't wear lipstick.

Horribly predictable and unfunny jokes aside, the real news this week was that I started teaching. I am teaching three university level courses: a general English seminar, and two American Studies Classes. I explained to the department that a Canadian might not be the best choice for an American Studies professor, but they assured me that I am the right man for the job.

Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was just the fact that I forgot to prepare a lecture, but my first class was not the smoothest of affairs. After talking and trying to promote conversation for about an hour, I concluded my class by thanking the students for being my first class... ever.

A collective and understanding "Oooohhhh" swept the class. "Oooohhh", I think is a Mongolian exclamation that means "So that explains the high levels of suckitude". Some things are not lost in translation. (Though most are...)

As the week progressed though, I started to find my groove, and instead of leaving the classroom to the sound of "Oooohhhh", I left to the sound of the phrases "Thank you teacher!" and "Thank you for being my teacher!" I'm not sure what these foreign phrases mean, but I think they were in reference to the large pit stains that seem to increase in size as class progresses. I am confident though, that I will be a good teacher, and if I'm not, hell, I'll just say I was and give them all A's anyway. Mongolia apparently lives on corruption, so I am just trying to assimilate myself culturally and professionally.

I won't go into the long and possibly boring details of my weekend, but the highlights include a concert featuring French and Mongolian artists (too much french and not enough Mongolian for my liking), a cocktail party at the American Ambassador's house (I got to try out all of my Sarah Palin jokes on unsuspecting Ex-pats. No one laughed, but I think it was just the language barrier), and a work retreat to Terelj national park, shown here:

Or not...

As usual the Internet is being a jerk, so I will show images on a separate post. Terelj is about 65 kilometers from UB and is a popular destination for a day trip. Our work retreat involved hanging out in a Ger (yurt is politically incorrect, Stalin) drinking copious amounts of vodka, and competing in several sporting events.

My coworker Gundee started the gold medal flurry for our department with a huge wrestling victory, and I continued the trend, first by being the hero in the soccer match, and second by winning a race to the top of a mountain. The race was not your daddy's race, oh no, but each team was a male and a female holding hands. Chimgee and I hit some bumps along the way, and the conclusion of the race was more of a (not so) brisk walk, but we finally won. The prize for each victory was a bottle of champagne (consumed immediately), a bottle of vermouth (very confusing) and a box of candy. The Mongolian Ferrero Rochers. The vermouth means that I have to convert one of my limited cupboards into a liquor cabinet. Hurrah!!!

My victories brought pride and honor to the department. One guy, a 60+ year old security guard (maybe my next Asian kiss?) was extremely impressed. He sat in our Ger for almost an hour talking about me with my coworkers. I of course threw in an English comment now and then, but mostly just smiled, nodded, and sipped. "Bottoms up" is a favourite Mongolian phrase I have learned.

It has been tough not speaking the language and makes large chunks of the day very tough. It is unfair for me to expect people to abandon their mother tongue in my presence, but for some reason, I sort of thought they would. This is a very western viewpoint I think.

Normally I hate it when people talk about me in other languages (MOTHER, you dutch deceptress), but being here it is much more frustrating when you know that the conversation around you has nothing to do with you. It was nice to be the center of attention, even if I couldn't understand everything that was being said. The smiles and thumbs ups said it all.

I told my coworkers I won the two events in honor of Mongolia's two gold medals. They liked this, and we celebrated by singing songs. First I lead the group in a rousing rendition of "Yesterday", and then we sang Mongolian songs late into the night. I did some improv throat singing which was met by the loudest of giggles.

Alright, that is all for now. I will get back on later and put up some pictures for all y'all. I need to start taking Mongolian lessons as soon as I have a regular schedule. "Hello", "Thank You", "Teacher", and "Hooshuur" (traditional Mongolian mutton filled pastry) are not quite enough to carry on a conversation. Though they do allow me to eat like a king and be overcharged for it. Pictures coming soon...

Cheers,

Ussain "If you want to feel good about your athletic self, come to Mongolia" Cochrane