It's been a couple of weeks since my last post. There is no particular reason for this, I just found lying on my couch after work to be much more agreeable than exerting the Olympian amount of effort it takes to write this thing. Exaggeration? Maybe. All I know is I like lying on my couch.
Anyway, the last 2 weeks have been ticked over nicely. It is such a relief to find yourself breezing through each day and the time not dragging at all. There was a nice moment not too long ago when I came home from work, kicked off my shoes, sat on the couch and thought "it's good to be home". Now that may not sound significant, but I had spent a good deal of time wondering if I would ever settle or whether everyday life would become a chore so to feel at home was something of an epiphany. This, of course, is not to say that I have forgotten where home, or the people in my life who matter most, really are.
I have also found that I am enjoying work. It must be said that sometimes it can drag but then that surely must apply to almost every job, except maybe being an astronaut...or a demolition expert (let's face it, getting paid to blow up big buildings must be awesome). My usual routine involves arriving at work at 9:00am, having a cup of coffee at 9:01am, reading and answering e-mails and then spending the rest of the day working on various project proposals or working out a budget (all interspersed with numerous cups of life-giving coffee). I have also discovered that proposal deadlines (in this case, our Edinburgh Global Partnership proposal was on Wednesday 23rd) can cause inordinate amounts of stress followed by a tsunami of relief rolling over you as it wings its way through cyberspace and (hopefully) gets accepted. So I think I will happy working at CYPPD for the next year, although I will be even happier if the projects I am planning don't crash and burn!
Having previously stated that I feel at home both in Ulaanbaatar, and in my apartment, settling in has not been without it's problems. There are the normal things that go hand-in-hand with moving to a city in a poor country, such as trying to avoid being mugged or pick-pocketed, dodging maniac drivers (who presumably count hitting a foreigner as a million points and see road safety as something to be pondered philosophically as they hurtle round a corner on the wrong side of the road). Then there are the less usual, person specific things. In my case, this means discovering (after having lived in my apartment for about a week: I only remembered to write about this yesterday) that you share your apartment not with a family of cheeky, yet friendly mice, nor a large cantankerous spider, oh no, that would be a luxury only to be dreamed of. Instead I discovered that, in fact, I share my apartment with the cremated remains of my landlady's mother-in-law. That's right, you read correctly; another persons dead relative. "Stop over-reacting Mike" you might say, "it's only ashes", and whilst that is true, it doesn't help to learnt that said dead mother-in-laws old clothes also occupy one of the compartments of your closet. For intents and purposes she still bloody lives here. Couple that with all of the strange noises the flat makes at night and the fact there have been a few times when I have woken up in the morning to discover a door open or light turned on that I could swear I closed or turned off the night before. Oh and then there were the words GET OUT scrawled in blood across my living room wall (just kidding...I think). Throw all of this into a metaphorical cauldren, stir it around a bit, and you are left with a concoction that has a 100% chance of freaking me out.
I seem to have grown used to my apartment's little indiosyncracies now and don't really associate it with a ghost any more, but there was a moment when I almost called Ray, Peter, Egon, and Winston to proton pack her dead ass.
The next little obstacle to settling in which my apartment threw at me (although admittedly, it's more a comic minor inconvenience than anything else) was quite literally shocking (please excuse the terrible pun). The first time occurred I didn't quite know what had happened. One mintute I was flicking through Mongolian channels on my TV, the next I had taken a big jump backwards and was waving my hand around in response to the sharp pain that had just shot through it. Okay, so the pain wasn't really bad, but allow me some dramatic license. Once I had gotten over my consternation and realised that it was just a static shock, I gazed around looking for the culprit. The TV was the most obvious suspect, sitting there looking old and angry with the world for inventing better TV's. But no! I had cautiously crept forward, reached out and touched it. Nothing. I scanned the floor looking for an exposed wire, anything upon which I could lay blame and exact revenge. Still nothing. Then, as I stood up I got shocked again. This time it was clear who was responsible. A most unlikely suspect if ever there was one. It sat there, green and seemingly harmless, but this potted plant was my attacker. I headed over to the fridge to get a beer and decide what this plants' fate would be. As I opened the fridge with my right hand, I put my left on the top and zap, I got shocked again. My immediate thought was that the plant on the TV had somehow hurled a bolt of lighting, Zeus-style, at me. However I quickly became aware that it was the other potted plant on top of the fridge that had assailed me. It was clearly a plant pincer movement, and a well executed one at that. The plants and I now live in a sort of North Korea - South Korea situation. I know not to invade their space and they know that if I do they will zap me again and that, unfortunately, would result in their quick exit from the building via the window.
The final thing I would like to talk briefly about is the sudden turn for the worse which the weather has taken recently. On the coldest day of this month (Saturday 19th) it snowed. It snowed a lot. I first became aware of this when I awoke that morning, had nice hot shower, threw on a t-shirt and trousers (the weather had been pretty good up to that point) and strolled outside. I doubt there has ever been a faster retreat (although the French or Italians may lay claim to that title). It was practically a blizzard. To say I was surprised would be a massive understatement. Before I had left my apartment I had been blissfully unaware of the Arctic conditions outside because I usually keep my curtains closed as I live on the ground floor and don't want curious Mongolians peering in. The snow in Mongolian is very strange. It doesn't feel wet to the touch and it is very powdery. Strangest (and worst) of all however, is the fact that try as you might, you cannot make a snow-ball out of it. I very nearly broke down in tears when I made this discovery. My dreams of stealthily landing a snow-ball on someone's head were dashed by the freakish snow of Mongolia.
That just about wraps it up for this post. I hope you have enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Starting work and a long journey to the Gobi Desert.
Since my last post I have started work proper, I have ventured down to the Gobi Desert, and Patrick Swayze has died. Still, at least he had the time of his life...if that was too soon I apologise but if you can't laugh what can you do? (I am aware that the joke wasn't necessarily funny but I reserve the right to crack bad jokes).
Anyway, I marched to work on my first day brimming with confidence. The sun was shining, the birds were probably singing but the sounds of the traffic were more than a match for their vocal styling's, and the world was ready to be saved by a plucky VSO volunteer. I descended the steps looking as cool, in my humble opinion, as its possible for a man wearing a fleece to look, and promptly became entangled in the net designed to prevent bugs from getting into the building. It did a pretty good job of stopping me from getting in as well until after a few seconds of epic man vs net struggle I triumphantly, and with less than a little flair, freed myself. Unpurtubed, and with even more elan, I sauntered along the corridor, glided into the office and deftly sat down at my desk feeling quite pleased with my entrance. Then suddenly reality hit me like a frisbee to the face. I didn't have a clue what to do. Panic set in. Beads of sweat began rolling down my brow. I was like a midget in 12ft of water: Out of my depth.
Happily, a few minutes later I remembered that I had been told exactly what I should do and I began reading a guideline to monitoring and evaluation, a document that I would quickly develop a love/hate relationship with insofar as I loved to hate it. Unfortunately for me (only because it meant I couldn't just pretend to read the document), implementing an active system of monitoring and evaluation is a pretty important part of what I will be doing here.
Thus far, my work has been confined out of necessity to familiarising myself with the various projects CYPPD is involved in and that means a lot of reading, interspersed with glimpes of what my work will entail once I understand exactly what I need to do. Thankfully I think I am going to enjoy the work, plus I get to teach English to the staff which I'm looking forward to (no, seriously).
Moving on. I have been fortunate in two respects this last week. Firstly, there are VSO volunteers crazy enough to run a half-marathon in the Gobi desert (I briefly contemplated walking it but common sense got the better of me) which mean I got to tag along. Secondly, my boss is awesome enough to allow me to have a Friday and a Monday off in my first week of work.
Before this trip, the Gobi Desert was for me, something that existed only on television and in my imagination. I had visions of endless seas of sand and humanity clinging to life in a land that clearly wasn't made for people to live in. In reality, only small parts of the Gobi have sand dunes and people don't cling to life in the desert, they adapt to it.
We left Ulaanbaatar on Friday, September 11th at 8:00am. We had a rather optimistic idea that the journey would be around 10-12 hours which would prove to be more than a little bit innacurate. After about 45 minutes the luxury that is paved roads came to a bumpy and dusty end. Usually, the idea of a very long drive is enough to make me wish I had a powerful sedative so that I don't have to spend mind-numbing hours gazing at nothing in particular. So I was relieved that Mongolia is anything but boring and not once did I grow tired of looking at the spectacular views. There were moments when we would come to the top of a lip of a ridge and an involuntary smile would creep across my face as my eyes were greeted by the some of the most awe-inspiring sights I have ever been privalaged to witness. The land would undulate and roll away into the distance, as far as the eye could see. Here and there herds of horses would canter across the plain, guarded by a solitary, watchful, herder. The road stretches out before you like a long dusty artery connecting the remote regions of Mongolia.
The transition from steppe to desert is a gradual one and I only noticed when I realised that there was very little plant life around. The other indicator was when we happened upon a group of Bactrian camels ambling slowly to wherever it is camels like to go in the desert. They didn't seem to care about our presence and our driver didn't seem to care about my curiosity or the camera in my hands. He continued to show disdain for my camel watching desires throughout the entire trip and I was only able to get this shot as we sped by one particular group -
We eventually stopped driving at around 7:30pm as the light was rapidly fading and we needed to set up camp. However, I'm a sucker for a sunset and this one was particularly impressive so I ran off with my camera and my tri-pod and totally forgot to help Chris put up our tent. When I returned he was half done and I sheepishly helped with the rest. The night descended with startling speed and soon all was dark except for the light from our cooking.
Every now and again you conditions combine to create something truly special. That night we were no where near a town, we were in the desert, and there was no moon. The stars unfolded above to create a wondrous spectacle that I will not soon forget. It was in a word, perfect. The milky way was as clearer than I had ever seen it and it arched across space as though God had deliberately left a brilliant trail through the cosmos. I was awe-struck by the night sky and as I stood there in the vast emptiness of the desert staring up at the unimaginable vastness of the heavens I began to think. What I thought about I won't say but I will say that sometimes, ever so rarely, you can have an experience that is profound and comforting, and during my first night in the Gobi Desert, I had one of those experiences.
The following day we finally made it to the ger camp which was the base for the literally tens of people who are insane enough to want to go on a long distance run through a desert. It was set on a plateau with mountains in one direction and desert in every other. It was also close to a site of paleontolgical significance called the Flaming Red Cliffs. It was the first place where dinosaur eggs were discovered. It is also exceedingly beautiful. From a distance they look like they are just a chain of cliffs but as you get closer you realise that they are actually a interwining series of gorges and crevaces that rise up to a ridge overlooking the Gobi. They are a stunning red (hence the name) and are truly stunning. When you get to the top of the ridge you can see the cliffs drop away before you and extend to your left and right. The contrast between the red of the cliffs and the blue of the sky adds to aura which this place creates.
Although that photo really doesn't do it justice it gives you at least some idea of what I'm talking about!
I spent my time at the ger camp wandering around the cliffs and doing some good old fashioned exploring. The finish line for the half-marathon was at the top of the cliffs which was great because I got to spend more time there whilst waiting for our intrepid competitors. All four did really well and even beat some U.S. marines so take that America! I kid, but seriously marines should be beating volunteers.
The drive back from the Gobi was equally as long as the drive there and I arrived back in Ulaanbaatar thoroughly knackered but very happy nonetheless. I could have written volumes about the trip but I am aware that some of you may have lost interest already so I had better call it a day.
Log on next week for more (possibly) exciting tales from Mongolia!
Thanks for reading.
Anyway, I marched to work on my first day brimming with confidence. The sun was shining, the birds were probably singing but the sounds of the traffic were more than a match for their vocal styling's, and the world was ready to be saved by a plucky VSO volunteer. I descended the steps looking as cool, in my humble opinion, as its possible for a man wearing a fleece to look, and promptly became entangled in the net designed to prevent bugs from getting into the building. It did a pretty good job of stopping me from getting in as well until after a few seconds of epic man vs net struggle I triumphantly, and with less than a little flair, freed myself. Unpurtubed, and with even more elan, I sauntered along the corridor, glided into the office and deftly sat down at my desk feeling quite pleased with my entrance. Then suddenly reality hit me like a frisbee to the face. I didn't have a clue what to do. Panic set in. Beads of sweat began rolling down my brow. I was like a midget in 12ft of water: Out of my depth.
Happily, a few minutes later I remembered that I had been told exactly what I should do and I began reading a guideline to monitoring and evaluation, a document that I would quickly develop a love/hate relationship with insofar as I loved to hate it. Unfortunately for me (only because it meant I couldn't just pretend to read the document), implementing an active system of monitoring and evaluation is a pretty important part of what I will be doing here.
Thus far, my work has been confined out of necessity to familiarising myself with the various projects CYPPD is involved in and that means a lot of reading, interspersed with glimpes of what my work will entail once I understand exactly what I need to do. Thankfully I think I am going to enjoy the work, plus I get to teach English to the staff which I'm looking forward to (no, seriously).
Moving on. I have been fortunate in two respects this last week. Firstly, there are VSO volunteers crazy enough to run a half-marathon in the Gobi desert (I briefly contemplated walking it but common sense got the better of me) which mean I got to tag along. Secondly, my boss is awesome enough to allow me to have a Friday and a Monday off in my first week of work.
Before this trip, the Gobi Desert was for me, something that existed only on television and in my imagination. I had visions of endless seas of sand and humanity clinging to life in a land that clearly wasn't made for people to live in. In reality, only small parts of the Gobi have sand dunes and people don't cling to life in the desert, they adapt to it.
We left Ulaanbaatar on Friday, September 11th at 8:00am. We had a rather optimistic idea that the journey would be around 10-12 hours which would prove to be more than a little bit innacurate. After about 45 minutes the luxury that is paved roads came to a bumpy and dusty end. Usually, the idea of a very long drive is enough to make me wish I had a powerful sedative so that I don't have to spend mind-numbing hours gazing at nothing in particular. So I was relieved that Mongolia is anything but boring and not once did I grow tired of looking at the spectacular views. There were moments when we would come to the top of a lip of a ridge and an involuntary smile would creep across my face as my eyes were greeted by the some of the most awe-inspiring sights I have ever been privalaged to witness. The land would undulate and roll away into the distance, as far as the eye could see. Here and there herds of horses would canter across the plain, guarded by a solitary, watchful, herder. The road stretches out before you like a long dusty artery connecting the remote regions of Mongolia.
The transition from steppe to desert is a gradual one and I only noticed when I realised that there was very little plant life around. The other indicator was when we happened upon a group of Bactrian camels ambling slowly to wherever it is camels like to go in the desert. They didn't seem to care about our presence and our driver didn't seem to care about my curiosity or the camera in my hands. He continued to show disdain for my camel watching desires throughout the entire trip and I was only able to get this shot as we sped by one particular group -
We eventually stopped driving at around 7:30pm as the light was rapidly fading and we needed to set up camp. However, I'm a sucker for a sunset and this one was particularly impressive so I ran off with my camera and my tri-pod and totally forgot to help Chris put up our tent. When I returned he was half done and I sheepishly helped with the rest. The night descended with startling speed and soon all was dark except for the light from our cooking.Every now and again you conditions combine to create something truly special. That night we were no where near a town, we were in the desert, and there was no moon. The stars unfolded above to create a wondrous spectacle that I will not soon forget. It was in a word, perfect. The milky way was as clearer than I had ever seen it and it arched across space as though God had deliberately left a brilliant trail through the cosmos. I was awe-struck by the night sky and as I stood there in the vast emptiness of the desert staring up at the unimaginable vastness of the heavens I began to think. What I thought about I won't say but I will say that sometimes, ever so rarely, you can have an experience that is profound and comforting, and during my first night in the Gobi Desert, I had one of those experiences.
The following day we finally made it to the ger camp which was the base for the literally tens of people who are insane enough to want to go on a long distance run through a desert. It was set on a plateau with mountains in one direction and desert in every other. It was also close to a site of paleontolgical significance called the Flaming Red Cliffs. It was the first place where dinosaur eggs were discovered. It is also exceedingly beautiful. From a distance they look like they are just a chain of cliffs but as you get closer you realise that they are actually a interwining series of gorges and crevaces that rise up to a ridge overlooking the Gobi. They are a stunning red (hence the name) and are truly stunning. When you get to the top of the ridge you can see the cliffs drop away before you and extend to your left and right. The contrast between the red of the cliffs and the blue of the sky adds to aura which this place creates.
Although that photo really doesn't do it justice it gives you at least some idea of what I'm talking about!I spent my time at the ger camp wandering around the cliffs and doing some good old fashioned exploring. The finish line for the half-marathon was at the top of the cliffs which was great because I got to spend more time there whilst waiting for our intrepid competitors. All four did really well and even beat some U.S. marines so take that America! I kid, but seriously marines should be beating volunteers.
The drive back from the Gobi was equally as long as the drive there and I arrived back in Ulaanbaatar thoroughly knackered but very happy nonetheless. I could have written volumes about the trip but I am aware that some of you may have lost interest already so I had better call it a day.
Log on next week for more (possibly) exciting tales from Mongolia!
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A culinery revelation and a new home
Hey all!
Well I did it. I managed to survive language school with my sanity intact. That is no mean feat I assure you. Every morning I would wake up and instead of feeling happy and looking forward to the day I would wake up and wonder what fresh hell would be delivered upon me. It's not that I'm not learning anything, quite the opposite in fact, I'm constantly learning new ways to stop my mind from melting in the face of all the bewildering pronunciations and the bane of my existence, grammar. In the afternoon we would all head off to our one-on-one tutelage with a student. Fate had ordained that I would be assigned a girl named Bolorchimeg. She was perfectly nice but spoke next to no English (at least I think she didn't, perhaps she was just toying with me). "But hold on" I hear you cry, "you're learning Mongolian, she doesn't necessarily need to speak English". Whilst that may technically be true it resulted in the continuation of our teachers' draconian methods, namely "I am going to say something, you will repeat it, AND get it right or I will prolong your embarrassing agony by repeating it a futher fifty times". Thankfully, my time in purgatory eventually came to an end and on Friday September 4th 2009, I emerged from language school blinking and squinting in the harsh glare of the sun, looking like a guy who has been mentally pummeled for 2 weeks. I did get a nice certificate out of it though, and I will reluctantly admit that my Mongolian has improved as a result of my time in this Guantanamo-esque language school.
The weekend was fairly hectic as it was the end of our in-country training and everyone would be moving out of the guesthouse and into their new homes. For some people this meant travelling a very long way. Apparently Mongolia is a pretty big country, who knew? I was due to move into my new place on Saturday the 5th and I would be sharing with Ruth, the volunteer whom I am replacing, until her two year 'stint' ended the following Thursday. In the end, I didn't move in until Sunday, but this meant I was free to enjoy my Saturday. I spent the afternoon visiting the Mongolian Women's Farmers Association and agrovating their guard dog so that I could get a good picture. Luckily for me it was chained up otherwise the headlines would have read 'Fool torn apart after annoying an already irate animal'.
In the evening most of our volunteer intake group, and a few more established guys, went out for dinner. Now there is something you must understand about my mindset at this juncture. I, like all the new volunteers, had been living on a meagre diet for three weeks due to our budget. The previous day we had all been paid our living allowance (although I recieved far less than I was expecting due to an annoying length of time between when VSO pays their share, and CYPPD pays theirs), and so on Saturday I was looking forward to a meal of moderate extravagence. Imagine my horror then, when I was told that we would be going to a vegetarian restaurant. That's right, you heard me correctly, a vegetarian restaurant. The thought of it filled me with a sense of dread the likes of which I have never felt before. My gastronomic dreams for the evening were dashed in one apocolpytic sentence...or so I though at the time. Never let it be said that life doesn't throw you pleasant surprises. It turns out that tofu isn't so bad after all! What was once a disturbing abboration of nature to be scoffed at from afar, transformed into a delicious sortayed (if thats how you spell it) dish. It was a moment of revelation comparable only to St Pauls vision on the road to Damascus (that's right, a biblical reference!). I am officially a tofu convert. Anyway, that's enough hyperbole for the moment, moving on.
I moved into my home for the year on Sunday, September 6th. My flat is on the ground floor of a large Soviet (big and grey) style apartment block. It is a pretty decent size, particularly for one person. When you enter, you come into a hall-way where I imagine I will be keeping my shoes and possibly drying my clothes. A door at the end of the small hall leads into the apartment proper. There is another hallway (which makes the first one seem a little unnecessary) which leads into the living room on the left, and towards the bedroom and bathroom on the right. There is no partition between this hallway and the living room and there are a number of cables snaking across it, the purpose and source of which I have yet to determine. The living room also has the kitchen attached in an open plan design. The kitchen is at one end of the room (which is pretty big), a table sort of acts as a dividing line between the two. There is a couch which, whilst not being the best couch in the world, is certainly not the worst. There is also a television but it doesn't work very well. It can pick up a fair few channels but they are mostly Russian, Chinese, or Mongolia. However, it does get BBC world news which is great. The screen is red and blurry but you can just about make it out. I don't think I will be watching it much though.
The bedroom is at the opposite end of the apartment. It is a good size and has a queen size bed. The only trouble is there isn't much in the way of a mattress. Ruth has been sleeping on a ger blanket, which isn't very thick or comfortable but she didn't mind as she wasn't going to be living there for very long. I am hoping my landlady will find me one. If not then I am sure it will be good for my back! The bedroom also has fitted cupboards but they are a bit loose and unstable, still, better than nothing! Until today I have been sleeping on the couch cusion in the spare room. Ruth has moved out now so I will finally be able to sleep in a proper bed!
The toilet and bathroom are in seperate rooms and I was delighted to discover that the shower is awesome (when there is hot water).
So I have learnt two things since my last post -
1/ Tofu is not the enemy.
2/ Whoever decorated my apartment really likes the colour green.
I also started work this week but I will save that for my next post. I am heading to the Gobi desert tomorrow so you can look forward to hearing about that as well. I hope you all realise how lucky you are!
Well I did it. I managed to survive language school with my sanity intact. That is no mean feat I assure you. Every morning I would wake up and instead of feeling happy and looking forward to the day I would wake up and wonder what fresh hell would be delivered upon me. It's not that I'm not learning anything, quite the opposite in fact, I'm constantly learning new ways to stop my mind from melting in the face of all the bewildering pronunciations and the bane of my existence, grammar. In the afternoon we would all head off to our one-on-one tutelage with a student. Fate had ordained that I would be assigned a girl named Bolorchimeg. She was perfectly nice but spoke next to no English (at least I think she didn't, perhaps she was just toying with me). "But hold on" I hear you cry, "you're learning Mongolian, she doesn't necessarily need to speak English". Whilst that may technically be true it resulted in the continuation of our teachers' draconian methods, namely "I am going to say something, you will repeat it, AND get it right or I will prolong your embarrassing agony by repeating it a futher fifty times". Thankfully, my time in purgatory eventually came to an end and on Friday September 4th 2009, I emerged from language school blinking and squinting in the harsh glare of the sun, looking like a guy who has been mentally pummeled for 2 weeks. I did get a nice certificate out of it though, and I will reluctantly admit that my Mongolian has improved as a result of my time in this Guantanamo-esque language school.
The weekend was fairly hectic as it was the end of our in-country training and everyone would be moving out of the guesthouse and into their new homes. For some people this meant travelling a very long way. Apparently Mongolia is a pretty big country, who knew? I was due to move into my new place on Saturday the 5th and I would be sharing with Ruth, the volunteer whom I am replacing, until her two year 'stint' ended the following Thursday. In the end, I didn't move in until Sunday, but this meant I was free to enjoy my Saturday. I spent the afternoon visiting the Mongolian Women's Farmers Association and agrovating their guard dog so that I could get a good picture. Luckily for me it was chained up otherwise the headlines would have read 'Fool torn apart after annoying an already irate animal'.
In the evening most of our volunteer intake group, and a few more established guys, went out for dinner. Now there is something you must understand about my mindset at this juncture. I, like all the new volunteers, had been living on a meagre diet for three weeks due to our budget. The previous day we had all been paid our living allowance (although I recieved far less than I was expecting due to an annoying length of time between when VSO pays their share, and CYPPD pays theirs), and so on Saturday I was looking forward to a meal of moderate extravagence. Imagine my horror then, when I was told that we would be going to a vegetarian restaurant. That's right, you heard me correctly, a vegetarian restaurant. The thought of it filled me with a sense of dread the likes of which I have never felt before. My gastronomic dreams for the evening were dashed in one apocolpytic sentence...or so I though at the time. Never let it be said that life doesn't throw you pleasant surprises. It turns out that tofu isn't so bad after all! What was once a disturbing abboration of nature to be scoffed at from afar, transformed into a delicious sortayed (if thats how you spell it) dish. It was a moment of revelation comparable only to St Pauls vision on the road to Damascus (that's right, a biblical reference!). I am officially a tofu convert. Anyway, that's enough hyperbole for the moment, moving on.
I moved into my home for the year on Sunday, September 6th. My flat is on the ground floor of a large Soviet (big and grey) style apartment block. It is a pretty decent size, particularly for one person. When you enter, you come into a hall-way where I imagine I will be keeping my shoes and possibly drying my clothes. A door at the end of the small hall leads into the apartment proper. There is another hallway (which makes the first one seem a little unnecessary) which leads into the living room on the left, and towards the bedroom and bathroom on the right. There is no partition between this hallway and the living room and there are a number of cables snaking across it, the purpose and source of which I have yet to determine. The living room also has the kitchen attached in an open plan design. The kitchen is at one end of the room (which is pretty big), a table sort of acts as a dividing line between the two. There is a couch which, whilst not being the best couch in the world, is certainly not the worst. There is also a television but it doesn't work very well. It can pick up a fair few channels but they are mostly Russian, Chinese, or Mongolia. However, it does get BBC world news which is great. The screen is red and blurry but you can just about make it out. I don't think I will be watching it much though.
The bedroom is at the opposite end of the apartment. It is a good size and has a queen size bed. The only trouble is there isn't much in the way of a mattress. Ruth has been sleeping on a ger blanket, which isn't very thick or comfortable but she didn't mind as she wasn't going to be living there for very long. I am hoping my landlady will find me one. If not then I am sure it will be good for my back! The bedroom also has fitted cupboards but they are a bit loose and unstable, still, better than nothing! Until today I have been sleeping on the couch cusion in the spare room. Ruth has moved out now so I will finally be able to sleep in a proper bed!
The toilet and bathroom are in seperate rooms and I was delighted to discover that the shower is awesome (when there is hot water).
So I have learnt two things since my last post -
1/ Tofu is not the enemy.
2/ Whoever decorated my apartment really likes the colour green.
I also started work this week but I will save that for my next post. I am heading to the Gobi desert tomorrow so you can look forward to hearing about that as well. I hope you all realise how lucky you are!
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