Well folks, it happened. After years and years of paying my dues and making coffee for Hollywood Fat Cats, I finally got my big break. No, I didn't get cast in the role of "the foreigner" in the second chapter of Sergei Bodrov's "Mongol". My venture to the silver screen will have to wait for the time being. I did however, get cast in the role I was born to play, myself, in a special episode of Mongolia's marquis English language show: Voicebox TV.
Voicebox TV is a television show written and produced by two of my friends. These two friends are, I am sorry to say, Australian, and it is through an Australian Government program that they are in Mongolia working on this very cool project. Basically the two of them go out every week with a camera and a dream, and come out with a tight 22 minute episode that both educates and entertains. The goal of the show is to help Mongolians improve their English and also to help foreigners understand Mongolian culture a little bit. Normally the show features a mostly Mongolian cast, but this week, the dynamic duo needed some of their foreign friends to help deliver a high quality episode. They turned to me, and deliver I did!
This week's episode was an expose on the Mongolian Lunar New Year, or "Tsagaan Sar". The direct translation is "White Moon", and it refers to the last day of winter and the first day of spring. Its a holiday that mainly consists of eating large amounts of meat and drinking large amounts of vodka, so really not that different from a typical weekday around here.
The holiday is very ritualistic and everything must be done in a specific order. The TV episode was mainly an explanation of the different parts of the ceremony with lots of shots of Mongolians interacting with foreigners. I'm not sure if the episode was supposed to be funny, but the way that the other foreigners and I messed up the various parts of the ceremony is sure to crack the target audience up. I also refused to tell any of the Mongolian people in the Ger my actual name, forcing them to call me by my newly self-christened Mongolian name: "Kharsukh". The literal translation is "Black Axe", and has received universally negative reviews from every Mongolian who I have told it to. They tell me its a stupid and fake name. I just think they're a bit intimidated to be talking to a man with the cojones to dub himself Black Axe. When I get back to English Speaking lands I think I'll just go by Blax, but for now, "Kharsukh" it is.
The traditional Tsagaan Sar food is a steamed, mutton filled dumpling called a "buuz" (sounds like "BOSS" speakers, and ryhmes with "shows". Buuz, like most Mongolian foods is both sheepy and white. One of the traditions of Tsagaan Sar is visiting different families, usually friends or relatives, but often strangers as well. At every home you go to, you will be served food and are expected to eat a certain number of buuz. I have been told that you are supposed to eat 5-10 buuz at every home you visit and can visit up to 10 homes, accounting for a total of 50-100 buuz! Pretty amazing stuff. In traditional Western tradition, the producers of Voicebox decided to exploit this little ritual in a good old fashioned eating contest.
It seems I wasn't brought on TV for my wit after all. I was brought their for my stomach. Normally I don't let people use me for my body, but I decided I could make an exception this time.
The contest: See who could eat 10 buuz in the quickest time.
My opponent: A 11 year old Mongolian boy who grew up in Boseman (Buuzman), Montana
Normally I take it easy when competing against a clearly outmatched foe, but when the cameras are rolling its a whole other story. I prepared for the contest by eating nothing but cabbage and lettuce for a week, allowing them to release valuable gasses, thereby stretching out my stomach to superhuman proportions. The contest was over before it began, and I finished my 10 buuz before my opponent could eat 5.
Pathetic.
Victorious, I strutted my stuff, pumped my fist, and to add insult to injury, even finished my opponents remaining buuz. It will teach 11 year olds around the world not to mess with the likes of me.
I don't think I will be invited back to star in a second episode. People will tell you its because of my horrible sportsmanship, or repeated attempts at speaking Mongolian on an English language TV show, but we all know its politics. Its always politics with these Hollywood Fat Cats. Either way, I have made my mark and what a mark it is.
If you ask my me, TV is for chumps anyways. Chumps and hobos. Next time you see me I'll be strutting on the silver screen.
Start preordering your tickets now.
GC
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
A B$tch is a B$tch but a Dog is a Man's Best Friend
I have been back in Ulaanbaatar for roughly a week and a half now, and let me tell you, getting off that plane after spending five of the most blissful weeks of my life in Southeast Asia, I could not help but wondering:
"What the Hell am I doing here?"
I left 30 degree weather, a private slice of the Indian Ocean, pad Thai that cost less than a dollar, and air fresher than any I had ever breathed for -30 degree weather, an apartment building that wasn't even nice when it was built during the Cold War, vegetables that cost an arm and a leg, and air that feels worse on my lungs than 100 cigarettes. Everyone had been telling me I was crazy for living in Mongolia and I was starting to believe it myself.
Then I was perusing a little thing called Facebook, maybe you've heard of it, and I came across an album entitled "Dog Sledding in Mongolia", and I remembered that I did not come to Mongolia because I had heard it was a blissful paradise; oh no! I came to Mongolia because it is simply and truly, the most badass place I could think of at the time. There's a long list of things I need to do before my nomadic stint is up, and dog sledding was sitting in the number one spot.
I made a few calls, wrote a few emails, and set up my date with destiny. The drive out of the smoggy UB haze and into the countryside was better than 100 monkeys typing on 100 typewriters and that was only the beginning. We arrived at the dog sled camp in roughly an hour. We decided it was time to change our wheels for something a little more environmentally friendly. When we exited the vehicle we were greeted by the sound of 40 excited and anxious dogs, ready to go for the run of their lives. The first thing I noticed was that these dogs were much smaller than I had expected. I felt a little bit like an American going to McDonald's in Canada and learning that the Canadian "Large" is the equivalent of an American "Medium". In summary, I felt shortchanged. I didn't think that these puny bone bags would be able to pull my 160 pound frame.
Well folks. I was wrong. Dead wrong. And after a 30 second tutorial on dog sledding from Joelle, our funky French guide, I was about to learn that big things come in small packages.
Meet Marvin. Marvin is 8 years old and lives in Terelj National Park. His likes include chewing on sheep bones, going on long walks in the park, defecating while running at 15 km/hour, and chasing animals nearly 30 times his size. Marvin, like his childhood hero, Balto, spends his days pulling humans around on a dog sled. Unlike Balto however, Marvin pulls a much more precious cargo than medicine for a bunch of whiny Alaskan kids. Marvin gets to pull me.
Here are me, Marvin and the rest of "Team Awesome". While Marvin is indeed a great friend and an inspired runner, his position as lead dog is questionable at best. I was informed that Marvin was a hunting dog, and that I would have to keep an eye on him from the get go. Well the get go came sooner than I could have imagined as not 100 meters from our starting point he was already chasing a cow, bringing me, 4 dogs, and the sled with him. When he realized he would not be able to catch this bovine in his current state, he resumed course.
This behavior continued anytime he noticed footprints, heard rustling, or saw anything in the woods. Luckily, he eventually responded to my cries of "Marvin, don't be an idiot!" It worked wonders for my dad with me, and apparently the effect crosses the boundaries of species as well. As our relationship grew stronger, we got into a groove. Unfortunately, Marvin couldn't stand not being the lead sled, so would often attempt ill advised short cuts over tree roots and gravel. I became airborne on three different occasions and had to dismount the sled through several different gravel patches. None of this deterred my canine companion.
We finally reached our resting point and we human beings ate meat while the dogs got to eat snow. I felt a little bad for Marvin and the rest of Team Awesome, but Joelle assured me that if I played favourites and fed one of the dogs, the others would kill him in his sleep. Not even Marvin deserved that, so I kept my meat to myself.
The ride home involved more shortcuts and a new trick that Marvin learned. I call it the "Poop and Run". Unfortunately he was not the best multitasker, and this move would cause the four dogs behind him to get tangled and frustrated. They would then begin to bark which made poor Marvin nervous and unable to release his bowels. It was a vicious cycle indeed, and one that is unresolved to this day.
By far the highlight of the trip was when we were about half a kilometer from our basecamp. I noticed the rest of the sleds had stopped and could only assume it was Marvin related. Sure enough, there was a family of Yaks standing by the trail. Joelle had stopped his sled because he knew Marvin would try something Marvinesque. Sure enough, Marvin instinctively went after the one Yak that he stood a chance against, the new born baby. His mother was none too pleased at this and charged in Marvin's (and my) direction. If you have never been chased by an angry yak, I highly recommend it. Make sure to do it in the cold as you can see the air being forced out of her nose. My life flashed before my eyes and Joelle could do nothing but sigh and let out an "Oh Marvin..."
We made it back and apparently none of the other riders had nearly the antics filled experience that I did. Their dogs were well behaved, hard working, and obedient. In other words, their dogs were boring. Marvin's irrational and exciting behavior was rewarded by giving him a bone while the other dogs were left to fight over pieces of cow dung.
Every word here is true. Even the cow dung thing. I may be living in a hellishly cold place and developing lung cancer from the smog, but at least I am privy to doing some crazy things that I would not be able to do in most other places. My list is still long, but at least I can cross of #1.
Next up: Ice Fishing! Stay tuned for the thrilling recap, because honestly, what is more exciting than a guy sitting over a hole, holding a string with a hook attached to it. Scuba diving in Thailand? Not bloody likely.
"What the Hell am I doing here?"
I left 30 degree weather, a private slice of the Indian Ocean, pad Thai that cost less than a dollar, and air fresher than any I had ever breathed for -30 degree weather, an apartment building that wasn't even nice when it was built during the Cold War, vegetables that cost an arm and a leg, and air that feels worse on my lungs than 100 cigarettes. Everyone had been telling me I was crazy for living in Mongolia and I was starting to believe it myself.
Then I was perusing a little thing called Facebook, maybe you've heard of it, and I came across an album entitled "Dog Sledding in Mongolia", and I remembered that I did not come to Mongolia because I had heard it was a blissful paradise; oh no! I came to Mongolia because it is simply and truly, the most badass place I could think of at the time. There's a long list of things I need to do before my nomadic stint is up, and dog sledding was sitting in the number one spot.
I made a few calls, wrote a few emails, and set up my date with destiny. The drive out of the smoggy UB haze and into the countryside was better than 100 monkeys typing on 100 typewriters and that was only the beginning. We arrived at the dog sled camp in roughly an hour. We decided it was time to change our wheels for something a little more environmentally friendly. When we exited the vehicle we were greeted by the sound of 40 excited and anxious dogs, ready to go for the run of their lives. The first thing I noticed was that these dogs were much smaller than I had expected. I felt a little bit like an American going to McDonald's in Canada and learning that the Canadian "Large" is the equivalent of an American "Medium". In summary, I felt shortchanged. I didn't think that these puny bone bags would be able to pull my 160 pound frame.
Well folks. I was wrong. Dead wrong. And after a 30 second tutorial on dog sledding from Joelle, our funky French guide, I was about to learn that big things come in small packages.
Meet Marvin. Marvin is 8 years old and lives in Terelj National Park. His likes include chewing on sheep bones, going on long walks in the park, defecating while running at 15 km/hour, and chasing animals nearly 30 times his size. Marvin, like his childhood hero, Balto, spends his days pulling humans around on a dog sled. Unlike Balto however, Marvin pulls a much more precious cargo than medicine for a bunch of whiny Alaskan kids. Marvin gets to pull me.
Here are me, Marvin and the rest of "Team Awesome". While Marvin is indeed a great friend and an inspired runner, his position as lead dog is questionable at best. I was informed that Marvin was a hunting dog, and that I would have to keep an eye on him from the get go. Well the get go came sooner than I could have imagined as not 100 meters from our starting point he was already chasing a cow, bringing me, 4 dogs, and the sled with him. When he realized he would not be able to catch this bovine in his current state, he resumed course.This behavior continued anytime he noticed footprints, heard rustling, or saw anything in the woods. Luckily, he eventually responded to my cries of "Marvin, don't be an idiot!" It worked wonders for my dad with me, and apparently the effect crosses the boundaries of species as well. As our relationship grew stronger, we got into a groove. Unfortunately, Marvin couldn't stand not being the lead sled, so would often attempt ill advised short cuts over tree roots and gravel. I became airborne on three different occasions and had to dismount the sled through several different gravel patches. None of this deterred my canine companion.
We finally reached our resting point and we human beings ate meat while the dogs got to eat snow. I felt a little bad for Marvin and the rest of Team Awesome, but Joelle assured me that if I played favourites and fed one of the dogs, the others would kill him in his sleep. Not even Marvin deserved that, so I kept my meat to myself.
The ride home involved more shortcuts and a new trick that Marvin learned. I call it the "Poop and Run". Unfortunately he was not the best multitasker, and this move would cause the four dogs behind him to get tangled and frustrated. They would then begin to bark which made poor Marvin nervous and unable to release his bowels. It was a vicious cycle indeed, and one that is unresolved to this day.
By far the highlight of the trip was when we were about half a kilometer from our basecamp. I noticed the rest of the sleds had stopped and could only assume it was Marvin related. Sure enough, there was a family of Yaks standing by the trail. Joelle had stopped his sled because he knew Marvin would try something Marvinesque. Sure enough, Marvin instinctively went after the one Yak that he stood a chance against, the new born baby. His mother was none too pleased at this and charged in Marvin's (and my) direction. If you have never been chased by an angry yak, I highly recommend it. Make sure to do it in the cold as you can see the air being forced out of her nose. My life flashed before my eyes and Joelle could do nothing but sigh and let out an "Oh Marvin..."
We made it back and apparently none of the other riders had nearly the antics filled experience that I did. Their dogs were well behaved, hard working, and obedient. In other words, their dogs were boring. Marvin's irrational and exciting behavior was rewarded by giving him a bone while the other dogs were left to fight over pieces of cow dung.
Every word here is true. Even the cow dung thing. I may be living in a hellishly cold place and developing lung cancer from the smog, but at least I am privy to doing some crazy things that I would not be able to do in most other places. My list is still long, but at least I can cross of #1.
Next up: Ice Fishing! Stay tuned for the thrilling recap, because honestly, what is more exciting than a guy sitting over a hole, holding a string with a hook attached to it. Scuba diving in Thailand? Not bloody likely.
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