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.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
A song, a recap, and a mighty return to Blogging
Back in the Ulaanbaatar
(To be sung to the tune of The Beatles - Back in the USSR)
Just flew in from Bangkok on Korea Air,
Didn't get to sleep last night.
Spent the whole ride talking to Seoul's biggest square,
Man I had a dreadful flight.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
You don't know how chilly I are, boy.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
Stepped off the plane greeted by an icy breeze,
Gee its good to be back home.
Never thought I'd miss negative forty degrees,
I guess this little boy has grown.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
You don't know how Nomadic I are, boy.
Back in the Ulaan,
Back in the Ulaan,
Back in the Ulaanbaatar.
(End song)
Blog Post
(To be read to the tune of Keith Cochrane telling a hilarious tale)
In case you couldn't decipher from the sweet song you just read (and ideally sang out loud), Mongolia's favourite son is back in Mongolia. More importantly however, I am back to blogging after an unprecedented 5 week hiatus. Why did I not update during my trip you ask? Well that's easy. Seeing as this blog is supposed to be all Mongolia all the time, it would have been like cheating for me to have updated when I was away from Mongolian soil. I'm a man of principle and I'm sorry if those principles don't always coincide with your desire to read tasty blog posts.
I will begin the journey as I best remember it. It all started on December 20. I was sitting in my apartment, hugging the radiator for warmth during the coldest day I have ever experienced. The temperature was -40 degrees Celcenheit. I received a call from my airline telling me to hold tight, and that my plane would be delayed two hours due to heavy winds and icy conditions. I received three such calls before finally making it on the plane. Two short layovers later, I was in Chang Mai, a delightful city in northern Thailand, where I met my former bunk mate Max "MW" Winston, and another Vermonter, Will "The Thrill" Kidney.
The three of us spent three weeks travelling through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, making memories, seeing strange and exotic places, and always sleeping three to a bed. Needless to say I got to know those guys pretty well by the end. In some ways a little too well.
Our trip began with what was supposed to be a two day boat ride from Northern Laos into Luang Prabang, a quaint town in central Laos. A wrench was thrown in the plans as the boat broke down on the banks of the Mekong river on Christmas day. Turkey dinner this year was replaced with a nice three course Mekong Christmas Cookout. The appetizer was uncooked Ramen, followed by the main course: Ramen cooked with the traditional Mekong spices of twigs and sand. This beautiful dish was the perfect buildup to our desert: cigarettes rolled with computer paper. The whole experience felt a lot like an episode of Lost meets Lord of the Flies. I kept waiting for The Others to come and snatch one of us away.
We spent the next week in Laos, mainly in a backpackers paradise called Vang Vieng. Not exactly your family vacation spot; more of a Stoner's paradise. When I asked one particularly burnt out Swede what he did in Vang Vieng, he replied that he was "just passing through." I later learned that he had been "passing through" for more than three months. I guess a place where three guys can sleep for 8 bucks a night and get free shots of whisky from any of the local bars is hard to say good bye to. I wouldn't have minded "passing through" a little slower either.
Following Laos we spent two short days in Siemriep, Cambodia to visit Angkor Wat, a world heritage sight. The sights here were spectacular. Even more spectacular were the 50 cent beers that we found at one of the local bars. After seeing Angkor we took the bus to Bangkok, on what is politely referred to as "the bus ride from hell". I think this is being too kind. We finally made it to Bangkok hours and hours later.
From Bangkok we flew to KRABIIIIIII (Krabi), and took a quick ferry ride to Ko Phi Phi, pronounced Koh Pee Pee. You better believe we got some mileage out of that joke. On Phi Phi, we did some snorkeling and even visited Maya Bay, where they filmed the Leonardo DiCaprio movie "The Beach". Strangely all of the photos they us to advertise this are from Titanic. Perhaps not the best marketing scheme when a boat ride is required to get out there. Phi Phi was getting a little too popular for its size sadly, and was getting overrun by garbage. It was sad to see the ugly underside of such a wonderful place.
Max and Will went home after this which marked the end of week three. I spent the next 4 days in Khon Kaen, a small town 6 hours north of Bangkok visiting my friend James O'Toole, another PIA fellow. Our days were spent teaching Thais how to play basketball, and eating some of the sweetest street food I have ever seen. Everyone in KhonKaen was complaining about the cold. Meanwhile I was walking around in shorts and a t shirt. Cold is all relative folks. I never thought I would be able to handle -40 but here I am. You could do it too.
Following James's hospitality, I was joined by the lovely Miriam Marek who just happened to be in the Bangkok area. It was truly a fine coincidence. I was glad to see her, but couldn't help but miss what Will and Max brought to the table as bedfellows.
I muffled my complaints and Miriam and I spent a few great days seeing the sights in Bangkok and even made an appearance at a local expat quiz night. Despite Miriam's historical and literary knowledge and my Simpsons and Futurama knowledge, we placed dead last. We did however walk out with some excellent pity prizes.
We'll be back Bangkok. We'll be back and you better get ready...
Following Bangkok we took a flight out to Phuket, NY Times' #1 luxury vacation spot. I'm not really a high roller, but Miriam is, so Mr. and Ms. Marek got to experience the good life if only for a couple of nights. Pools with bars in the water, a TV with more than 5 channels, a bed with sheets, you name it. Everything I didn't have for the first three weeks of the trip was there in Phuket.
We tired a bit of the glitz and glam however and headed north to a beautiful spot about 2 hours north called Khao Lak. Here we stayed in a really nice private bungalow right on a private beach. There we were able to enjoy a small fraction of the Indian Ocean all to ourselves for a few short days. My favourite part of this leg was a day trip to the Similan Islands, one of the top dive and snorkeling sites in the world. Jumping in the water here is like flipping on "Finding Nemo". Sadly, Nemo was not found by me, but I did get to swim with a playful sea turtle. Awesome.
Then the trip was over. Everyone had to return their separate ways and now I find myself all alone for the first time in 5 weeks. Now its time to return back to work and get my life back on track. If anyone is interested in hearing more about the trip, please don't hesitate to write. This is a highly abridged version. The director's cut involves Motorcycles, Monkeys, and Ping Pong Balls. Oh my!
I would however recommend this part of the world as a vacation spot as it is cheap, affordable, and overrun with Scandinavians. What more could you ask for really?
But now more Mongolian adventures are on the rise. I have plans to go dogsledding, ice skating, and maybe even ice fishing. If those aren't good reasons to suffer through the winter, I don't know what are.
All the best in 2009!
Keith
(To be sung to the tune of The Beatles - Back in the USSR)
Just flew in from Bangkok on Korea Air,
Didn't get to sleep last night.
Spent the whole ride talking to Seoul's biggest square,
Man I had a dreadful flight.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
You don't know how chilly I are, boy.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
Stepped off the plane greeted by an icy breeze,
Gee its good to be back home.
Never thought I'd miss negative forty degrees,
I guess this little boy has grown.
I'm back in the Ulaanbaatar.
You don't know how Nomadic I are, boy.
Back in the Ulaan,
Back in the Ulaan,
Back in the Ulaanbaatar.
(End song)
Blog Post
(To be read to the tune of Keith Cochrane telling a hilarious tale)
In case you couldn't decipher from the sweet song you just read (and ideally sang out loud), Mongolia's favourite son is back in Mongolia. More importantly however, I am back to blogging after an unprecedented 5 week hiatus. Why did I not update during my trip you ask? Well that's easy. Seeing as this blog is supposed to be all Mongolia all the time, it would have been like cheating for me to have updated when I was away from Mongolian soil. I'm a man of principle and I'm sorry if those principles don't always coincide with your desire to read tasty blog posts.
I will begin the journey as I best remember it. It all started on December 20. I was sitting in my apartment, hugging the radiator for warmth during the coldest day I have ever experienced. The temperature was -40 degrees Celcenheit. I received a call from my airline telling me to hold tight, and that my plane would be delayed two hours due to heavy winds and icy conditions. I received three such calls before finally making it on the plane. Two short layovers later, I was in Chang Mai, a delightful city in northern Thailand, where I met my former bunk mate Max "MW" Winston, and another Vermonter, Will "The Thrill" Kidney.
The three of us spent three weeks travelling through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, making memories, seeing strange and exotic places, and always sleeping three to a bed. Needless to say I got to know those guys pretty well by the end. In some ways a little too well.
Our trip began with what was supposed to be a two day boat ride from Northern Laos into Luang Prabang, a quaint town in central Laos. A wrench was thrown in the plans as the boat broke down on the banks of the Mekong river on Christmas day. Turkey dinner this year was replaced with a nice three course Mekong Christmas Cookout. The appetizer was uncooked Ramen, followed by the main course: Ramen cooked with the traditional Mekong spices of twigs and sand. This beautiful dish was the perfect buildup to our desert: cigarettes rolled with computer paper. The whole experience felt a lot like an episode of Lost meets Lord of the Flies. I kept waiting for The Others to come and snatch one of us away.
We spent the next week in Laos, mainly in a backpackers paradise called Vang Vieng. Not exactly your family vacation spot; more of a Stoner's paradise. When I asked one particularly burnt out Swede what he did in Vang Vieng, he replied that he was "just passing through." I later learned that he had been "passing through" for more than three months. I guess a place where three guys can sleep for 8 bucks a night and get free shots of whisky from any of the local bars is hard to say good bye to. I wouldn't have minded "passing through" a little slower either.
Following Laos we spent two short days in Siemriep, Cambodia to visit Angkor Wat, a world heritage sight. The sights here were spectacular. Even more spectacular were the 50 cent beers that we found at one of the local bars. After seeing Angkor we took the bus to Bangkok, on what is politely referred to as "the bus ride from hell". I think this is being too kind. We finally made it to Bangkok hours and hours later.
From Bangkok we flew to KRABIIIIIII (Krabi), and took a quick ferry ride to Ko Phi Phi, pronounced Koh Pee Pee. You better believe we got some mileage out of that joke. On Phi Phi, we did some snorkeling and even visited Maya Bay, where they filmed the Leonardo DiCaprio movie "The Beach". Strangely all of the photos they us to advertise this are from Titanic. Perhaps not the best marketing scheme when a boat ride is required to get out there. Phi Phi was getting a little too popular for its size sadly, and was getting overrun by garbage. It was sad to see the ugly underside of such a wonderful place.
Max and Will went home after this which marked the end of week three. I spent the next 4 days in Khon Kaen, a small town 6 hours north of Bangkok visiting my friend James O'Toole, another PIA fellow. Our days were spent teaching Thais how to play basketball, and eating some of the sweetest street food I have ever seen. Everyone in KhonKaen was complaining about the cold. Meanwhile I was walking around in shorts and a t shirt. Cold is all relative folks. I never thought I would be able to handle -40 but here I am. You could do it too.
Following James's hospitality, I was joined by the lovely Miriam Marek who just happened to be in the Bangkok area. It was truly a fine coincidence. I was glad to see her, but couldn't help but miss what Will and Max brought to the table as bedfellows.
I muffled my complaints and Miriam and I spent a few great days seeing the sights in Bangkok and even made an appearance at a local expat quiz night. Despite Miriam's historical and literary knowledge and my Simpsons and Futurama knowledge, we placed dead last. We did however walk out with some excellent pity prizes.
We'll be back Bangkok. We'll be back and you better get ready...
Following Bangkok we took a flight out to Phuket, NY Times' #1 luxury vacation spot. I'm not really a high roller, but Miriam is, so Mr. and Ms. Marek got to experience the good life if only for a couple of nights. Pools with bars in the water, a TV with more than 5 channels, a bed with sheets, you name it. Everything I didn't have for the first three weeks of the trip was there in Phuket.
We tired a bit of the glitz and glam however and headed north to a beautiful spot about 2 hours north called Khao Lak. Here we stayed in a really nice private bungalow right on a private beach. There we were able to enjoy a small fraction of the Indian Ocean all to ourselves for a few short days. My favourite part of this leg was a day trip to the Similan Islands, one of the top dive and snorkeling sites in the world. Jumping in the water here is like flipping on "Finding Nemo". Sadly, Nemo was not found by me, but I did get to swim with a playful sea turtle. Awesome.
Then the trip was over. Everyone had to return their separate ways and now I find myself all alone for the first time in 5 weeks. Now its time to return back to work and get my life back on track. If anyone is interested in hearing more about the trip, please don't hesitate to write. This is a highly abridged version. The director's cut involves Motorcycles, Monkeys, and Ping Pong Balls. Oh my!
I would however recommend this part of the world as a vacation spot as it is cheap, affordable, and overrun with Scandinavians. What more could you ask for really?
But now more Mongolian adventures are on the rise. I have plans to go dogsledding, ice skating, and maybe even ice fishing. If those aren't good reasons to suffer through the winter, I don't know what are.
All the best in 2009!
Keith
Saturday, December 20, 2008
And We're Off!
FANS!
I'm terribly sorry. I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse ruler. The real Genghis Khan came to me in a dream and told me that I would never be a real Khan with my lazy attitude and I think he is right. He's always right!
Today, like so many Canada geese before me, I am migrating south for the winter. Why you ask? Well, there's something about -30 degree weather that doesn't quite sit right with me. The next month will be spent in sunny South East Asia, where I plan on doing heavy amounts of recruiting and research for when I finally decide to live out the prophecy given to me by the Great Khan.
It is wild to think that my time here is half over. Like a coffee bean dipped in honey, it is bittersweet. Its a very strange thing to be handing out grades to students who are less than a year younger than me, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. And if that means giving every good looking girl in Mongolia a 100%, then I say, so be it!
The big event of the past few weeks was definitely the Christmas party that I co-organized with some of the teachers. Not that I like to brag, but I am pretty good at this kind of thing, but even my acute party planning skills are no match for my friend the language barrier. The party ended up being a huge success. The first half was much more memorable than the second half, involving many performances by the students, special student "Oscar Awards", and even a movie with a script penned by yours truly. The second half was a haze of vodka and hip hop. A great thing about Mongolia is that people young and old don't mind just getting down together. I felt no different dancing with my 50 year old coworkers than I did my 20 year old students. I can't imagine every boogeying with any of my college professors. Well, maybe Professor Billington.
Yes, wild times were had by all. Less wild times were had by me in my bed until 4 the next afternoon. The only time I ever get phone calls it seems is when I have a headache. Typical. Real typical.
Just got off the phone with Korea airlines. My flight is delayed two hours. It seems this country just can't stand to see its prodigal son leave.
If I don't post before then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! A special Merry Christmas goes to my family who are going to be missing their boy for the first time on Christmas this year. I am with you in spirit guys, and I will brew some home made eggnog in a Thai hostel toilet in your honor.
If you will be in South East Asia in the next month, just call my name and I will come a-running faster than Steve Urkel after Carl Winslow's latest tirade!
May everyone have a safe and happy holiday season and see you all in the New Year!
I'm terribly sorry. I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse ruler. The real Genghis Khan came to me in a dream and told me that I would never be a real Khan with my lazy attitude and I think he is right. He's always right!
Today, like so many Canada geese before me, I am migrating south for the winter. Why you ask? Well, there's something about -30 degree weather that doesn't quite sit right with me. The next month will be spent in sunny South East Asia, where I plan on doing heavy amounts of recruiting and research for when I finally decide to live out the prophecy given to me by the Great Khan.
It is wild to think that my time here is half over. Like a coffee bean dipped in honey, it is bittersweet. Its a very strange thing to be handing out grades to students who are less than a year younger than me, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. And if that means giving every good looking girl in Mongolia a 100%, then I say, so be it!
The big event of the past few weeks was definitely the Christmas party that I co-organized with some of the teachers. Not that I like to brag, but I am pretty good at this kind of thing, but even my acute party planning skills are no match for my friend the language barrier. The party ended up being a huge success. The first half was much more memorable than the second half, involving many performances by the students, special student "Oscar Awards", and even a movie with a script penned by yours truly. The second half was a haze of vodka and hip hop. A great thing about Mongolia is that people young and old don't mind just getting down together. I felt no different dancing with my 50 year old coworkers than I did my 20 year old students. I can't imagine every boogeying with any of my college professors. Well, maybe Professor Billington.
Yes, wild times were had by all. Less wild times were had by me in my bed until 4 the next afternoon. The only time I ever get phone calls it seems is when I have a headache. Typical. Real typical.
Just got off the phone with Korea airlines. My flight is delayed two hours. It seems this country just can't stand to see its prodigal son leave.
If I don't post before then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! A special Merry Christmas goes to my family who are going to be missing their boy for the first time on Christmas this year. I am with you in spirit guys, and I will brew some home made eggnog in a Thai hostel toilet in your honor.
If you will be in South East Asia in the next month, just call my name and I will come a-running faster than Steve Urkel after Carl Winslow's latest tirade!
May everyone have a safe and happy holiday season and see you all in the New Year!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Genghis Cochrane meets Kublai Van
About three or four times a day, I have a conversation with a friend or a family member still wasting their life away in non-arctic weather on the topic of visiting me and observing my mastery of the nomadic lifestyle. They tell me that "Mongolia is too far to visit" and "Isn't it like -90 degrees up there.... KELVIN" and "Keith, it really just isn't feasible financially or time-wise for me to swing up to Ulaanbaatar for an afternoon." and of course "How the hell did you get this number?"
I ask all you non-believers to stand in shame and bask in the glory of Kublai Van, the latest and strongest member of my horde. Kublai was nice enough to take some time out of his tight schedule to see how my empire is holding up. After some reconnaissance work in China, he hopped on the train in Beijing and rode the quick 30 hours for a peaceful (bi) afternoon ride. He reported to me that the train is forced to change wheels at the border, due to the differing sizes of Chinese and Mongolian rails. This highly inconvenient delay ensures that Mongolia cannot be overrun by Han Chinese. What if Mongolia wants to overrun China you ask? That's the beauty of horses my friends. No wrenches required.
Speaking of horses, this weekend was spent in lovely Hustai National Park, where in 1992, 16 horses were reintroduced to the wild. These 16 got their freak on and now they are thriving again. And again. And again. They are just like regular horses except they have bigger heads and two extra chromosomes. Legend has it that these extra chromosomes give them the ability to say "Yay" as well as "Neigh" making them the only truly democratic horse society in existence. Only in Mongolia folks, only in Mongolia.
Day turned to night on the Mongolian Steppe and the sun disappeared like so many 1,000 Togrog bills at "Ger-lls, Ger-lls, Ger-lls", Ulaanbaatar's premiere strip club. We were lucky to be at Hustai park where the only thing wilder than the horses is the nightlife. We stayed up drinking bottle after bottle of Chinngis's finest vodka, playing guitar and singing Mongolian long songs into the wee hours of the night. A late night bathroom break revealed a crucial flaw in the Ger camp setup. Every Ger looks the same. Especially while wearing a shiny set of Vodka goggles. I must have wandered into three or four different Gers before finding the right one, making my fair share of friends, and fairer share of enemies along the way.
In true Mongolian fashion I was up and ready to go the following morning. For lunch we stopped at a real Nomadic Ger and were served the best noodle soup this side of the great wall. In Mongolia it is totally okay to stumble into someone's Ger expecting food, and if needed even a place to sleep. They would not have survived for this many years without this extreme hospitality, and it is one of two ancient traditions that still lives on today. The other tradition: marrying their cousins. This one is hard to avoid in a society with no last names. They're only human after all.
We left the countryside behind, and were back in the city by nightfall. Kublai and I shared some beers and some tears, and then I had to say farewell to my dear friend. He was tempted to stay but thinks that our revolution will have a better chance of success if we take it global sooner rather than later. He might be right. Either way it leaves me a lone wolf once again.
Friends!
Family!
Anonymous Internet Weirdos!
Take his torch and get out here immediately! Seriously, I could use the body heat. Also, the Mongolian Canteens are already producing Grease-cicles that are sure to last through February. If that's not motivation enough to get out here, I don't know what is.
Until next time,
Genghis
I ask all you non-believers to stand in shame and bask in the glory of Kublai Van, the latest and strongest member of my horde. Kublai was nice enough to take some time out of his tight schedule to see how my empire is holding up. After some reconnaissance work in China, he hopped on the train in Beijing and rode the quick 30 hours for a peaceful (bi) afternoon ride. He reported to me that the train is forced to change wheels at the border, due to the differing sizes of Chinese and Mongolian rails. This highly inconvenient delay ensures that Mongolia cannot be overrun by Han Chinese. What if Mongolia wants to overrun China you ask? That's the beauty of horses my friends. No wrenches required.
Speaking of horses, this weekend was spent in lovely Hustai National Park, where in 1992, 16 horses were reintroduced to the wild. These 16 got their freak on and now they are thriving again. And again. And again. They are just like regular horses except they have bigger heads and two extra chromosomes. Legend has it that these extra chromosomes give them the ability to say "Yay" as well as "Neigh" making them the only truly democratic horse society in existence. Only in Mongolia folks, only in Mongolia.
Day turned to night on the Mongolian Steppe and the sun disappeared like so many 1,000 Togrog bills at "Ger-lls, Ger-lls, Ger-lls", Ulaanbaatar's premiere strip club. We were lucky to be at Hustai park where the only thing wilder than the horses is the nightlife. We stayed up drinking bottle after bottle of Chinngis's finest vodka, playing guitar and singing Mongolian long songs into the wee hours of the night. A late night bathroom break revealed a crucial flaw in the Ger camp setup. Every Ger looks the same. Especially while wearing a shiny set of Vodka goggles. I must have wandered into three or four different Gers before finding the right one, making my fair share of friends, and fairer share of enemies along the way.
In true Mongolian fashion I was up and ready to go the following morning. For lunch we stopped at a real Nomadic Ger and were served the best noodle soup this side of the great wall. In Mongolia it is totally okay to stumble into someone's Ger expecting food, and if needed even a place to sleep. They would not have survived for this many years without this extreme hospitality, and it is one of two ancient traditions that still lives on today. The other tradition: marrying their cousins. This one is hard to avoid in a society with no last names. They're only human after all.
We left the countryside behind, and were back in the city by nightfall. Kublai and I shared some beers and some tears, and then I had to say farewell to my dear friend. He was tempted to stay but thinks that our revolution will have a better chance of success if we take it global sooner rather than later. He might be right. Either way it leaves me a lone wolf once again.
Friends!
Family!
Anonymous Internet Weirdos!
Take his torch and get out here immediately! Seriously, I could use the body heat. Also, the Mongolian Canteens are already producing Grease-cicles that are sure to last through February. If that's not motivation enough to get out here, I don't know what is.
Until next time,
Genghis
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