Actually, what the hell is the difference?
I am back fellow hoard and less powerful than ever. After searching UB unsuccessfully for spare laptop parts, I finally gave in and bought a second hand monitor. The thing cost me a whopping 30,000 Togrogs (about $25) and I still feel like I got ripped off. I think I had this same monitor on my original Gateway 2000 PC. Now if only I could find a copy of Simcity it would be like 5th grade all over again.
The big news I have to report is that the strike is finally over. Actually, its been over for days. My amazing negotiating skills got the teachers to call off the strike. Unfortunately, our pay wasn't actually raised. It was basically the least successful strike in history. I was invited to the School Director's private soccer game, and I think we should just have our department play the administration. If we win, we get the pay raise, and if they win, I will personally pay for their hospital bills.
This means that school is back in session. My first lesson plan back on the job was teaching my adult students how to express preference using phrases like "I prefer" "I'd rather" and "Given the choice". In order to hammer home the point I even used the Paul Simon classic "El Condor Pasa".
I'd rather be a hammer than a nail,
If I could, I surely would.
I'd rather Mr. Simon didn't rip off a bunch of helpless Peruvians, but who am I to complain? Anyway, the students did really well, especially one overachiever, let's call him Steve, who corralled me after class. The exchange went a little bit like this:
Steve: Hello Keith.
Genghis: What's up my brother?
Steve: Where are you going tonight?
Genghis: I'm going to go get loaded with some friends. It's my friends birthday tonight. WOOO!!! Where are you going?
Steve: I'm going to my church. I am a Christian. What is your religion.
Genghis: I am not really a religious man Steve.
Steve: I'd rather be a Christian than a normal person.
Calling me a normal person was a bit of a Freudian slip, but we're not getting into those until next week. I didn't know whether to be offended by his statement or impressed at how great a teacher I am. He proceeded to invite me to his church, telling me there was an American missionary who would "really like to teach me." Even though I said "No, thank you", Steve has promised to bring me two copies of the Bible, one in English and one in Mongolian so I may read and possibly decide to change my heathen ways. I am looking forward to the Mongolian take on Christianity. The mutton of Christ anyone? I actually really like Steve, and having never read the Bible, Mongolia is as good a place as any to start.
Was going to post some pictures, but Mongolian Internet is about as reliable as Dominik Hasek in NHL 2002. I will try again later. Just like the Dominater.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
POSSIBLE OUTAGE 10/10/2008 - ?
When I came to Mongolia I promised myself that I would not get sick. Unfortunately, "Farmer in the Dell", my usually trusty laptop did not make the same promise. There is a problem with the monitor. It starts up very bright, then almost immediately goes black. The computer is still on and I can make out the screen if I stare very closely with a headlamp on. This is far from ideal however. I am thinking about attempting to repair this myself. It is either a problem with the LCD inverter or the LCD backlight. From what I've read online, it is a very fixable problem.
What do you, the fans, think? Should I:
A) Risk Forever Damaging My Laptop by repairing it myself
B) Risk Forever Damaging My Laptop by having a Mongolian repairman look at it.
C) Suck it up and buy an external monitor (A temporary solution until I return West)
D) Screw the Laptop. This Blog Sucks Anway!
E) Other (Make a suggestion here)
We will test Blogger's polling capabilities. Please give your comments and vote in the Poll!
What do you, the fans, think? Should I:
A) Risk Forever Damaging My Laptop by repairing it myself
B) Risk Forever Damaging My Laptop by having a Mongolian repairman look at it.
C) Suck it up and buy an external monitor (A temporary solution until I return West)
D) Screw the Laptop. This Blog Sucks Anway!
E) Other (Make a suggestion here)
We will test Blogger's polling capabilities. Please give your comments and vote in the Poll!
Friday, October 3, 2008
STRIKE
“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will end up at the end of my sword .”
The Great Khan 1215
It didn't take long, but I am already changing attitudes and fighting the good fight for the little guy. Inspired by my own renegade attitude and dashing good looks, the professors at Ulaanbaatar's University of the Humanities stood up today and said "NO MORE!" Unhappy with their low wages and busy work schedules, the professors have decided that they aren't going to take it, and are now involved in a good old fashioned labor strike. I must say that I fully support their cause. Not only because their complaints are completely founded and justified, but also because I was supposed to work today. The strike means I get to take the day off for moral reasons, rather than hiding behind my usual amoral excuses.
The reasons for striking are very straightforward. In addition to teaching regular day classes, all of the teachers at the University of the Humanities are required to teach night classes as well. The night classes, or "Intensive Courses" are intended for professional Mongolians (doctors, lawyers, herders, wrestlers, etc.) to learn English. The students are primarily "Old Guard" Mongolians who were educated during the Soviet Era, learning Russian as their second language. "New Mongolians" are now all taught English starting in high school. The strike is entirely related to the teachers' wages for the intensive courses, so even if the strike lasts all year, I will still have to teach my regular day classes. If only I could find something wrong with those classes as well...
But onto specifics. The students pay roughly 45,000 Togrogs a week (approximately 40 dollars US). With ~280 students, this equates to just about 126,000,000 Togrogs brought in by the school per week. There are a total of 103 classes (each an hour and a half long) taught per week. Right now the teachers make just about 11,000 togrogs per class (about 5 dollars an hour). The teachers therefore split 1,133,000 togrogs between them per week, or less than one percent of the total tuition. The teachers' demands are to get the pay increased to 15,000 togrogs per class, which would put the wages just over 1 percent of the tuition.
I am baffled by this strike. I am not baffled that they are striking, but that they should even have to. Talks were had with the administration this summer and no changes were made. These teachers (myself included) are making less per hour than a sandwich artist at Subway, not including prep time and time spent grading the students and helping them after school. I am happy that they are taking a stand for change, but I can't help but think that they could have upped their demands a bit. Maybe ask for free water in the staff room (we have to pay for this) more than one reem of paper per month (again we pay if we use more), or at the very least, a private restroom for the teachers. The only bathroom is coed and shared with the students. Being taller than most Mongolians I can see clear over the stall walls. This means I either have to bend my knees awkwardly while urinating a la Billy Madison or run the risk of pulling a Chuck Berry and losing my job. To peep or not to peep? That is a question for another post.
I think that the teachers were inspired by my own negotiation skills. When told that I was living in a dorm with no working laundry machine, I yelled and screamed and argued until the school finally gave in to my demands. No laundry machine, but they did buy me a wash basin and a rag. I showed those suckers what's what.
Its impossible for me to gauge how serious this strike is. This is because all talk is in Mongolian, and also because Mongolians are as a people, impossible to faze. Their nomadic history and generally tough lifestyle has taught them to adapt to any situation. Crisis is not a Mongolian word. However, if they were freaking out in this, the 10th hour of the strike, I would be a little worried. They all expect it to end quickly, and when I look at the facts, I see no reason that it shouldn't. If it is prolonged, I might have to finally buy myself a guitar and write a catchy protest song.
"We are the teachers, and we're tired of your crap,
If you do not pay us, we'll give you the clap.
ESL stands for Everyone Should Learn,
So pay us kind friends or your school we will burn."
I'm a revolutionary, not a songwriter folks.
If any of the school directors are reading this, know that we are serious, and for the love of god, don't make us turn the proverbial flames of revolution into real ones.
Join us in our cause my friends! Sympathy Strikes are widely encouraged! Let our voices be heard!
I must now return to the picket line and hassle me some scabs.
Until next time,
Genghis "They Have the Plant, but We Have the Power" Chavez
The Great Khan 1215
It didn't take long, but I am already changing attitudes and fighting the good fight for the little guy. Inspired by my own renegade attitude and dashing good looks, the professors at Ulaanbaatar's University of the Humanities stood up today and said "NO MORE!" Unhappy with their low wages and busy work schedules, the professors have decided that they aren't going to take it, and are now involved in a good old fashioned labor strike. I must say that I fully support their cause. Not only because their complaints are completely founded and justified, but also because I was supposed to work today. The strike means I get to take the day off for moral reasons, rather than hiding behind my usual amoral excuses.
The reasons for striking are very straightforward. In addition to teaching regular day classes, all of the teachers at the University of the Humanities are required to teach night classes as well. The night classes, or "Intensive Courses" are intended for professional Mongolians (doctors, lawyers, herders, wrestlers, etc.) to learn English. The students are primarily "Old Guard" Mongolians who were educated during the Soviet Era, learning Russian as their second language. "New Mongolians" are now all taught English starting in high school. The strike is entirely related to the teachers' wages for the intensive courses, so even if the strike lasts all year, I will still have to teach my regular day classes. If only I could find something wrong with those classes as well...
But onto specifics. The students pay roughly 45,000 Togrogs a week (approximately 40 dollars US). With ~280 students, this equates to just about 126,000,000 Togrogs brought in by the school per week. There are a total of 103 classes (each an hour and a half long) taught per week. Right now the teachers make just about 11,000 togrogs per class (about 5 dollars an hour). The teachers therefore split 1,133,000 togrogs between them per week, or less than one percent of the total tuition. The teachers' demands are to get the pay increased to 15,000 togrogs per class, which would put the wages just over 1 percent of the tuition.
I am baffled by this strike. I am not baffled that they are striking, but that they should even have to. Talks were had with the administration this summer and no changes were made. These teachers (myself included) are making less per hour than a sandwich artist at Subway, not including prep time and time spent grading the students and helping them after school. I am happy that they are taking a stand for change, but I can't help but think that they could have upped their demands a bit. Maybe ask for free water in the staff room (we have to pay for this) more than one reem of paper per month (again we pay if we use more), or at the very least, a private restroom for the teachers. The only bathroom is coed and shared with the students. Being taller than most Mongolians I can see clear over the stall walls. This means I either have to bend my knees awkwardly while urinating a la Billy Madison or run the risk of pulling a Chuck Berry and losing my job. To peep or not to peep? That is a question for another post.
I think that the teachers were inspired by my own negotiation skills. When told that I was living in a dorm with no working laundry machine, I yelled and screamed and argued until the school finally gave in to my demands. No laundry machine, but they did buy me a wash basin and a rag. I showed those suckers what's what.
Its impossible for me to gauge how serious this strike is. This is because all talk is in Mongolian, and also because Mongolians are as a people, impossible to faze. Their nomadic history and generally tough lifestyle has taught them to adapt to any situation. Crisis is not a Mongolian word. However, if they were freaking out in this, the 10th hour of the strike, I would be a little worried. They all expect it to end quickly, and when I look at the facts, I see no reason that it shouldn't. If it is prolonged, I might have to finally buy myself a guitar and write a catchy protest song.
"We are the teachers, and we're tired of your crap,
If you do not pay us, we'll give you the clap.
ESL stands for Everyone Should Learn,
So pay us kind friends or your school we will burn."
I'm a revolutionary, not a songwriter folks.
If any of the school directors are reading this, know that we are serious, and for the love of god, don't make us turn the proverbial flames of revolution into real ones.
Join us in our cause my friends! Sympathy Strikes are widely encouraged! Let our voices be heard!
I must now return to the picket line and hassle me some scabs.
Until next time,
Genghis "They Have the Plant, but We Have the Power" Chavez
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Happy Jew Year!
Today is Rosh Hashanah, and as an atheist in Mongolia, this could not mean less to me. However I can still support my Jewish brethren and wish them another good and bountiful year.
Well, Cochrane fans, its been much too long since I've posted on this blog, so its time to dust the cobwebs of my webspace, tighten my britches, and get right into it. This blog has gotten staler than last weeks leftovers. And you know how much I hate leftovers.
I suppose I have no real excuse for not posting, except that I've sort of fallen into a rut. Wait. I mean a groove. My teaching schedule has been finalized, I have infiltrated a social circle, and I have even started to learn Mongolian.
For those of you who didn't know that Mongolia had its own language, you are not alone. I was given a brief introduction to Mongolian from Sergei Brudov's "Mongol", so I was already an expert before I came. It did sort of surprise me however that when I got here, the people I talked to were not subtitled. A flagrant case of false advertising if you ask me. You might think it is a waste of time and effort to learn a language only spoken in one country, but I ask you this:
Could 2.5 million Mongolians be wrong? That's what I thought.
Every Mongolian on the great steppe assures me that "Mongolian is easy. English is hard." I try to explain to them why they think this, but my Mongolian is not quite at that level yet. However, if you want to know how old someones mother is (Tanni Eeejin Ner Xhen Ve?), or whether or not someone is a student (Oyutan yo?) , I am definitely the man for the job.
The most useful phrase I have picked up so far is definitely the exclamation "Uuchlarai!" It is basically the Mongolian word for "sorry". With this helpful phrase I can now get away with murder.
"What's that Mr. Cab Driver? I owe you 4,000 Togrogs. Well...... UUCHLARAI!"
"What's that Mr. Large Mongolian Man? That attractive woman is your wife! Uhhhh....UUCHLARAI!"
Normally scenarios like these would usually end up in me getting involved in my two least favorite activities: paying for something, or getting my ass beaten severely. With the help of Uuchlarai however, I get involved in my two favorite activities: getting free stuff and only getting my ass beaten mildly. Its a fine line I walk, but someone on the mean streets of UB has to do it.
They say UB is a capital city with a small town feel, and it is very true. I can walk anywhere I want and I often find myself bumping into the same people. If the city is a like small town, then the expat community is like that inbred and incestuous family that the normal people leave to their own devices, only occasionally approaching to try and take their money and to tell them to get off of their yards. Our inbred family is composed of current Peace Corps folks, Australian Youth Ambassadors, Peace Corps alums, Fulbright Scholars, and two chumps doing some mysterious program known as Princeton in Asia.
This lack of a built in fan base leaves me at a severe disadvantage when it comes to contests judged by the applausometer. Case in point, I was unceremoniously left off of the podium during a Salsa dancing competition last weekend. As you all know (or will know if you ever have the honor of boogieing down with me), my moves are like a cross between Justin Timberlake and Micheal Flatley. It all boiled down to a popularity contest that night however, something I usually excel at, but not in this strange land.
"But Keith, I've seen you dance, and to be honest, you're moves are about as fresh as your jokes."
That is simply false. I am right and the entire world is wrong. But I digress.
When I get tired of my incestuous family, and want to see the rest of the town, there is never a lack of Mongolians wanting to practice their English. The small town nature of UB also means that I have the opportunity to run into some pretty big wheels on the Mongolian news machine. I've dined with the US Ambassador, free-styled with a member of Mongolia's number one hip hop group, and played soccer with a member of the Mongolian national team. I feel like Jon Voigt in Midnight Cowboy: a big fish in a big pond. Hopefully like Mr. Voigt I don't have to start selling my body to make ends meet.
If I do end up having to walk down this dark path to augment my meager salary, I will go to UB's most popular spot for the ladies (and men) of the night: right under the statue of one Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. There's something about a full moon bouncing off of Vlady's head that loosens wallets and opens hearts.
For now though, I am a teacher, and so I will remain. More frequent posting to come to satiate your bloggy needs. I have created a monster, and now I intend to take care of it.
Well, Cochrane fans, its been much too long since I've posted on this blog, so its time to dust the cobwebs of my webspace, tighten my britches, and get right into it. This blog has gotten staler than last weeks leftovers. And you know how much I hate leftovers.
I suppose I have no real excuse for not posting, except that I've sort of fallen into a rut. Wait. I mean a groove. My teaching schedule has been finalized, I have infiltrated a social circle, and I have even started to learn Mongolian.
For those of you who didn't know that Mongolia had its own language, you are not alone. I was given a brief introduction to Mongolian from Sergei Brudov's "Mongol", so I was already an expert before I came. It did sort of surprise me however that when I got here, the people I talked to were not subtitled. A flagrant case of false advertising if you ask me. You might think it is a waste of time and effort to learn a language only spoken in one country, but I ask you this:
Could 2.5 million Mongolians be wrong? That's what I thought.
Every Mongolian on the great steppe assures me that "Mongolian is easy. English is hard." I try to explain to them why they think this, but my Mongolian is not quite at that level yet. However, if you want to know how old someones mother is (Tanni Eeejin Ner Xhen Ve?), or whether or not someone is a student (Oyutan yo?) , I am definitely the man for the job.
The most useful phrase I have picked up so far is definitely the exclamation "Uuchlarai!" It is basically the Mongolian word for "sorry". With this helpful phrase I can now get away with murder.
"What's that Mr. Cab Driver? I owe you 4,000 Togrogs. Well...... UUCHLARAI!"
"What's that Mr. Large Mongolian Man? That attractive woman is your wife! Uhhhh....UUCHLARAI!"
Normally scenarios like these would usually end up in me getting involved in my two least favorite activities: paying for something, or getting my ass beaten severely. With the help of Uuchlarai however, I get involved in my two favorite activities: getting free stuff and only getting my ass beaten mildly. Its a fine line I walk, but someone on the mean streets of UB has to do it.
They say UB is a capital city with a small town feel, and it is very true. I can walk anywhere I want and I often find myself bumping into the same people. If the city is a like small town, then the expat community is like that inbred and incestuous family that the normal people leave to their own devices, only occasionally approaching to try and take their money and to tell them to get off of their yards. Our inbred family is composed of current Peace Corps folks, Australian Youth Ambassadors, Peace Corps alums, Fulbright Scholars, and two chumps doing some mysterious program known as Princeton in Asia.
This lack of a built in fan base leaves me at a severe disadvantage when it comes to contests judged by the applausometer. Case in point, I was unceremoniously left off of the podium during a Salsa dancing competition last weekend. As you all know (or will know if you ever have the honor of boogieing down with me), my moves are like a cross between Justin Timberlake and Micheal Flatley. It all boiled down to a popularity contest that night however, something I usually excel at, but not in this strange land.
"But Keith, I've seen you dance, and to be honest, you're moves are about as fresh as your jokes."
That is simply false. I am right and the entire world is wrong. But I digress.
When I get tired of my incestuous family, and want to see the rest of the town, there is never a lack of Mongolians wanting to practice their English. The small town nature of UB also means that I have the opportunity to run into some pretty big wheels on the Mongolian news machine. I've dined with the US Ambassador, free-styled with a member of Mongolia's number one hip hop group, and played soccer with a member of the Mongolian national team. I feel like Jon Voigt in Midnight Cowboy: a big fish in a big pond. Hopefully like Mr. Voigt I don't have to start selling my body to make ends meet.
If I do end up having to walk down this dark path to augment my meager salary, I will go to UB's most popular spot for the ladies (and men) of the night: right under the statue of one Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. There's something about a full moon bouncing off of Vlady's head that loosens wallets and opens hearts.
For now though, I am a teacher, and so I will remain. More frequent posting to come to satiate your bloggy needs. I have created a monster, and now I intend to take care of it.
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