Into space

My mind was doing all sorts of somersaults on the plane to UB last night. I'd thought watching Side Effects would be a good idea--one of those "my life could never be this bad!" kinds of reverse psychology. But of course, my mind just followed the theme of the movie, i.e. how your brain, no matter what your willpower is, can do pretty messed up stuff (Rooney Mara's character stabs her Channing Tatum husband while she's in a drug-induced sleepwalking episode, and then her therapist goes crazy trying to take the blame off of himself for prescribing her the pills...).

But what's wonderful is that it's as capable of doing wonderful things as terrible things. There's this phenomena called the "Overview Effect" that astronauts get from seeing the Earth from outer space. It's a cognitive shift they experience when they perceive Earth as this small, fragile globe in the dark background of the universe. Suddenly, they are overcome with a sense of humility and goodwill--national boundaries don't matter anymore, and the inclination to work together and take care of each other becomes immediate. 

I would argue that something like that happens when you are looking down at the earth from an airplane. When I looked down from my window seat as we approached UB, anxious as ever, I saw Mongolia at night. And it was just dark, dark expanse. And there was something so peaceful and humbling about it. It quieted my mind. It was like a heavy blanket of hush was spread over my eyes. My eyes rested on the empty landscape, and then I spotted a flickering dot, moving slowly as we flew over it. One single ger camp with an outdoor fire, maybe. And then a long way off, another tiny cluster of light. I gazed with my forehead against the window until tendrils of light made its way into the city center, and when the wheels hit the runway, my mindset had changed.

Suddenly everything was okay when the cabin crew brought out the cups of vanilla ice cream from the dry ice bins...

It's 8:45p Eastern Standard Time. We left San Francisco at 10:45a (1:45p EST), and this flight to Seoul lasts just under 11 hours. So according to my calculations we will be arriving at Seoul around 12:45 EST, or about 4 hours from now. We're just past halfway.

Just about the only thing I've done this flight is sleep, watch (with my eyes only) Iron Man 3 again, gush over adorable Korean toddlers, and read the ETA (English Teaching Assistant) Handbook that was sent to us weeks ago but I've only just gotten around to reading. It goes over tips on how to shop, cultural norms, how to get around, etc.

Some interesting things I found about this handbook:

- Many of the sections suggest to go somewhere or do something with "your Mongolian friends" or "a Mongolian friend" first. So... considering this is an intro to ETAs in UB, does that mean our ETAssistantship just comes with a trusted Mongolian buddy included in the program? There's no section on "How to Make Mongolian Friends"!

- It is very cold, with winter temperatures regularly reaching -40F. (HOLY MOLY! "Regularly"??) The key to surviving is layers. This starts with at least one layer of long underwear, pants, a shirt, a sweater, a long coat that goes at least beyond your waist, at least one hat (this is calling up memories of a children's storybook where a character is wearing stacks of hats... a Dr. Seuss book, perhaps?), a scarf, thin gloves and big mittens to go over them, and a least one pair of thick wool socks and heavy boots. Make sure you have enough room to comfortably wear your boots with your thick socks and wiggle your toes. (I got 7.5 hiking boots off of Amazon... guess I should have gone a size up!)

- You can try being vegetarian in UB, but goodness forbid you try and be vegan: you'll basically be written off as rude: It may be difficult to interact with Mongolians during meals. Mongolians always feed you when you go to their house, so it can make visiting difficult as well.

- 1 USD is 1440 MNT (Mongolian Tugriks). There are no coins, as the smallest bill is 1 tugrik (bills less than 50 are rarely used). Internet cafes are common and you can use the internet for less than 600 tugriks an hour. A taxi ride is 700 tugriks per kilometer.

- Mongolians usually only refer to each other using their "first" names and those with identical first names use a patronymic (name of the father) that precedes their first name. (In Russian, it's first name followed by the patronymic.) For example, since my dad's name is Germelino, my Mongolian name might be Germelinogiin Kristine or G. Kristine.

- Names are often two nouns or adjectives. Examples being:

               Turmurbaatar "iron-hero" (male)

               Chuluunbold "stone-steel" (male)

               Narantuya "sunbeam" (female)

               Sarangerel "moon-light" (female)

I think girls' names are so pretty! My friend Enka's name comes from the word Enkh meaning "peace."              

- "Do you have a boyfriend?" "Why aren't you married?" "How old are you?" "How much money do you make?" "Do you have children?" "Why don't you marry a Mongolian?" are all common questions. In a society where human relationships are so important, these are attempts to build intimacy across vertical social structures. Sometimes these are the only English phrases that a Mongolian may know. Remember that people are trying to be friendly.

- Like in Russia (and in some cities in the U.S., unfortunately!), recycling is not a thing. But peddlers will often collect and even buy plastic and aluminum bottles to turn in for more money. They can be identified by their burlap collection bags. I will be close friends with these folks!!!

UB is Ulaanbaatar

You could be flying me to some undisclosed location, blindfolded. The feeling of being plunged into the unknown is such to me right now.

 
I admit I didn't prepare as much as I'd planned. I'd planned to read all the guide books, read all the articles that came up in my Google news alerts, complete a 120-hour TESL (Teaching English as a Second Language) online course. I hardly made a dent into Mongolian history, I signed up for news alerts only 3 weeks before my departure, and out of 50 online lessons, I've only completed 2.

People would ask me, "How are your preparations going?" "Have you packed?" "Are you ready for Mongolia?" I didn't feel any particular urgency, but regardless, no matter how much I prepared the less prepared I felt. As I started to pack, my list of things to buy and do became longer. My to-do list was probably the longest on July 30, only several hours before leaving the airport.

Another question I heard many times my last week in the U.S.: "Are you getting excited?!" Well, yes! I've been excited. Too excited, maybe, to feel any pressure that would have prevented my procrastination. Now, I was getting nervous. I'm grateful for the anticipation, however, if not preparation.

Preparations to go abroad have also distorted my sense of time. Monday and Tuesday became weekends, or 1 or 2 days before my plane leaves. Most everything I have done to prepare for Mongolia has been to prepare to leave for Mongolia: packing, saying goodbyes, settling accounts.

I knew the details of everything up until my 7:00a flight this morning. And I know the rough details of what I will do 1 year from now (recommence engineering courses, apply to firms, apply to grad schools, prepare for the GRE). But everything in between--I have no idea. Complete blank stare pages to be filled.

One thing that has been consistently on my to-do list: "Make a list of goals." Goals--something  sturdy and fixed to mold unwieldy uncertainty around. 

Better late than never!