Welcome to Mongolia

For those who haven't heard, I've headed over to Mongolia to pursue a new job with Rio Tinto, working for their Oyu Tolgoi copper mine. It's been a bit over a month since I arrived here; life has somewhat settled down into a routine and so now there is a bit more time to update the blog. I thought it might be fun to reflect over my first few weeks here, and so over the next week will upload some "retrospective" posts based on emails I sent to friends and photos I uploaded to Picasa at the time, capturing those first moments of newness, excitement and change.

Welcome to Mongolia, indeed

An eye-opening night at the Opera

On Friday night, Tuugi invited Todd and I to join her mum and some of her friends at the Grand Opera, a special performance from a number of well known Mongolian opera singers accompanied by a symphony of Morin Khuur (Horesehead Fiddles).

A seemingly unusual fusion of a traditional instrument of Mongolia, and a classical western style of music!

You’ll be pleased to know that a Horsehead fiddle, does not involve a real horse head, but is a stringed instrument, with two strings made of horse-tail hair (the best are made with white horses hair) and an ornate scroll carved in the shape of a horse’s head. Horses play a critical part of life on the steppe, and it came as no surprise when Tuugi explained that it is the most respected, national instrument of Mongolia, symbolising peace and happiness. Many UB families have a Morin Khuur in their homes, so that even in an urban environment, there is a reminder of this beloved animal.

Morin Khuur's

 The instrument is played vertically, with the trapezoidal wooden box sitting clasped between the legs of the player and a bow drawn across the two parallel strings. According to Wikipedia, “the larger of the two strings (the "male" string) has 130 hairs from a stalion’s tail, while the "female" string has 105 hairs from a mare’s tail.”

In action during the performance

 The Morin Khuur has a distinctive, violin-like sound which Wikipedia says “is poetically described as expansive and unrestrained, like a wild horse neighing, or like a breeze in the grasslands.”

A few legends about the origin of the Morin Khuur:

One legend about the origin of the Morin Khuur is that a shepherd named Namjil the Cuckoo received the gift of a flying horse; he would mount it at night and fly to meet his beloved. A jealous woman had the horse’s wings cut off, so that the horse fell from the air and died. The grieving shepherd made a horsehead fiddle from the now-wingless horse's skin and tail hair, and used it to play poignant songs about his horse.

Another legend credits the invention of the Morin Khuur to a boy named Sükhe (or Suho). After a wicked lord slew the boy's prized white horse, the horse's spirit came to Sükhe in a dream and instructed him to make an instrument from the horse's body, so the two could still be together and neither would be lonely. So the first Morin Khuur was assembled, with horse bones as its neck, horsehair strings, horse skin covering its wooden soundbox, and its scroll carved into the shape of a horse head.

But back to the opera. Mongolia has a very active and talented arts scene as a result of a strong Russian influence – with ballet and opera being performed weekly at the National Academic Theatre of Opera and Ballet of Mongolia, to a relaxed audience, and at very reasonable prices ($10-20 a ticket). It’s probably not what you first think of when you hear the name Mongolia, but it is a very large part of the urban culture.

Tonight’s performance was a little different, and incredibly spectacular. I wasn’t quire sure what to expect, especially when the first 30min was spent on speeches from 4 dignitaries (I later found out that one of them was the composer of some of the Mongolian operas). It was a brilliant surprise to see the 14 (?) piece ensemble strike up and the opera singers come out to perform short excerpts from famous Mongolian operas. It was incredibly uplifting to hear their strong voices around the intimate space in the very modern State Independent Hall on the 7^th floor of MPP building, with LCD screens providing a moving backdrop. And the women had beautiful dresses! It was hard not to forget that I was in Mongolia – I could easily have been in one of the smaller theatres of the Opera House.

I never considered myself a big opera fan, but I really enjoyed the performance. In another surprise, after a short break, the second session was filled with what I would call “popular opera”. All those fabulous sections of opera (for example from ‘Troubadour’, ‘Madam Butterfly’, ‘The Magic Flute’ . ‘Carmen’, ‘The Barber of Seville’) that you and might be tempted to blast out in the shower one day.

The evening was topped off by a few glasses of wine at Verandah with some of Tuugi’s very accomplished Mongolian friends. I was introduced to the secretary of the President, a hotel owner, dentist married to the CFO of a large Mongolian corporate, head buyer and brand manager of luxury brands of Naran Department store and financial advisor at MCS, one of Mongolia’s largest companies. Not only had each woman successfully driven a strong career, but most also had up to 3 children, and appeared to be no older than 35. It was refreshing to see such strength and ambition, but also illustrated the huge opportunities to succeed in this country.

It was a wonderful evening, and I thank Tuugi very much for inviting me along to a very special and memorable night!

A day walking in the (Bodg Khan) forest

Yesterday was probably the best day I've had so far in Mongolia. I joined the Mongol Hiking Club for a 19km one-way trek from the province South of UB back to Zaisan through the Bogh Khan National Park.

The Bogd Khan is the tallest of the four sacred mountains surrounding Ulaanbaatar. Looking out of the office window, you can see the massif along the southern skyline of the city – at the moment a brown rolling mass. It actually turns out that it is covered in pine forest, currently with snow underfoot, with large sections of brown spring grass emerging, only recently buried beneath the snow.

I met the hiking group outside the bright pink Drama Theatre and we packed into a mini-bus. It was a bit squished with 14 of us, but cosy given the cold outside. We set off, south, towards Zaisan on the lower slopes of Bogd Khan. As we passed by Zaisan Tuugi explained that the area was actually a sacred reserve (national park), but the attractiveness of living just high enough to be out of the city pollution meant that much of this lower landscape was now covered with new apartments housing expats, with more cranes and construction on the way for this summer.

All aboard the mini-bus (first round)

Not far out of town we stopped by a ger camp and I thought we had reached the start, but no, we were picking up another 4 hikers. A bit more cozy now, we continued along the road towards the airport, where we stopped, once again, to pick up our final 2 passengers. 20 people in a 12 seater. Yeah!

I think we drove on for about another 45min - I couldn't see my watch as my arms were firmly pinned to my sides by a mix of humans, bags and hiking poles, somewhat cushioned by the puffy jackets everyone was wearing. We caught glimpses of the countryside through the fogged up windows of the bus. A man on a horse trotting along the frozen river, another man shepherding his flock of goats, the odd scruffy looking cow. We passed through the main town of the aimag, a cluster of brightly coloured homes. It seemed much cheerier than drab UB.

The tyre of the bus went flat, so we clanged and jolted along the dirt road for the last 15min finally arriving at the beginning of the hike. The rest of the day was spent meandering through the snowy undergrowth of the pine forest, occasionally breaking through to a more open brown, grassy plain. I found it difficult to get my bearings, but we headed uphill for quite a while, then appeared to loop round back towards UB.

We took a short break at “mushroom rock”. Good to see you find these kind of land features everywhere in the world.

Break at Mushroom Rock (photo by Mongol Hiking Club)

Then a longer break at “the happiness tree”. I couldn’t quite figure out why it was called that, but we picked up a couple of empty vodka bottles beneath the tree, so it appears a few others agreed.

Happily beneath the Happiness tree

At one point we had to cross an icy, frozen spring. The leader of the group, Bayarsaikhan, flourished out his crampons and scuttled across whilst the rest of us went slipping and sliding over the ice. I struggled with this a bit, but at the first sign of difficulty, had a couple of people either side of me to help shuffle across.

Slipping and sliding on the ice (photo by Mongol Hiking Club)

On the other side of the spring, we stopped for a moment to soak up the “solar energy” of the place. One of the guys called out “Uuhai” as we walked. I thought it was the Mongolian version of “cooee”, but it turns out it means “hooray”. Well said.

Soaking up the sunshine

Lunch was at the edge of the forest in a sunny spot overlooking a deep, golden valley. A very communal affair, with everyone pulling out their thermos containers of Mongolian stew and meat dumplings and sharing with the group. My tuna and salad sandwich seemed highly inadequate, but the Mongolians were more than happy to share their delights with me. I’m not sure if it was the food, the fresh air, or the 12km we’d already hiked, but it was delicious!

A tasty lunch - Mongolian dumplings, potato and beef casserole, milky tea - mmm delicious

As the sun drifted towards the horizon, we descended carefully down the steep, eastern shady side of the slopes towards UB, eventually emerging on a ger camp overlooking the city. I think it was a tourist camp, because we stopped for cups of milky tea at a “conference” ger – basically a large, permanent ger filled with tables and chairs and decorations. Mongolian tea is an acquired taste – based on a kind of green tea, with lots of milk…and salt. Nonetheless, it was hot, and my hands and insides appreciated the warmth.

Descending towards UB

My GPS recorded 19.3km for the day. Not bad!

Am still weary this morning, which is a good feeling – it was great to get some exercise. Unfortunately, running in UB is turning out to be almost impossible – icy air that burns my lungs, no pavements and shonky roads with crazy drivers. I’ve now tried a couple of times, dressed in gloves, beanie, scarf around my neck, trackpants and jumper. I think the sweat froze on my eyelashes and my hands started to ache from the cold after 15min, so I had to go back. So wasn’t very successful. A Sydney lifestyle is very special. I'm looking forward to swimming in the ocean, regardless of weather, when I get back.

Something hot to share when back in camp

Exercise mission

Today's aim was to find a gym to help work off some of the excellent eating I’ve done over the past week. What a drama. It felt like I went EVERYWHERE. I even went for a run for about an hour in the hope of finding something. But all I came across were strange advertising signs, a communist steam train, derelict amusement park, stray dogs, ger camp, and row after row of featureless apartment blocks.

Soviet train museum

Amusement park

Mongolian Olympic Committee (getting warmer)

I went into strange corporate buildings, up and down flights of stairs following mysterious signs. One place seemed promising with a small (10m) pool, a few treadmills and some dumbells in the basement of a new office block. It felt a little underground Soviet! Another place was closed on Sundays. And another appeared to be targeted towards the body-building market.

Not too bad...

...and complete with a mini-pool

Perhaps not quite my scene

This also looked promising!

I thought I had finally found a suitable place after another 30min walk to the opposite side of town. It was a nice new complex, something you would find in Australia, but they told me I couldn't have a guest pass. They also wouldn't sell me a 3x visit or a 7x visit, despite it being advertised both on the wall of the centre AND on the english pamphlet they gave me. Very frustrating! I almost gave the guy a rant on the benefits of capitalism, and if I was willing to pay $25 for a 1hr gym session, then it was good economics to let me in given the high fixed costs of running a gym. I refrained.

Orchlon Health Club - very unfriendly for a guest user

After 5 hours of searching I went back to the hotel completely deflated. My lonely planet and expat sources were completely exhausted (as was I). In one last attempt I pulled up GoogleMaps and typed in "Swimming Pool near Ulan Baatar". Up cropped the Central State Swimming Pool. I thought, let's have one more go. I called a taxi and went off.

It turned out to be the best part of the day. I was confronted by a large concrete building, in a small side street that branched off the main road. it took me a while to figure out the routine. You take your shoes and jacket off in the entrance and give it to the lady who gives you a metallic tag to operate the lockers. You then buy a pool entry, which is designated a 45min time slot. Next is the change rooms where you shower, get into your costume and wait for the bell to ring for your turn to swim.

I was so incredibly lost, but thankfully met a girl in the change rooms. She was great and explained to me how things worked. She ended up jumping into the same lane as me (there were only 5 people in the pool) and explained she had Australians teach her how to swim at high school. She had just graduated from journalism at uni, and worked for the UB newspaper and taught at the uni. She was really lovely and we had a bit of a chat at the end of each lap. Apparently the 25m x5 lane pool was the largest in Mongolia. It was a bit old and rough around the edges, but seemed very hygienic, with a distinctive chlorinated smell. The guy in the lane next to us proudly told me that he swims 500m each day. Suddenly I was a swimming expert!

At the end of the 45min, I caught up with Khulan in the change rooms again and we traded email addresses and phone numbers. She loves doing cultural things in UB, like going to the opera and theatre and asked if I'd like to join her. Obviously I said yes! Fingers crossed I have made my first friend here. But, phew, what an effort. And still no gym.

So, that's the story of my weekend. Small wins after a long struggle. I also managed to find a huge map of Mongolia to put on my wall and try and plan out some trips for the future. At the same shop they also sold a few crime novels set in Mongolia! A great find! I love trashy crime. So now I have a good book to read too.

Another good find on the weekend

Celebrating Defence Day

My first weekend in Mongolia. Saturday afternoon was the Procurement team's trip out of town to celebrate "Defence Day", basically a day that celebrates the men in the country. (It's OK, they apparently celebrated Women's Day earlier in March).

We took a bus 30km out of town to a "conference centre" where we sat down for a traditional Mongolian lunch comprising a lamb soup (lamb ribs and potatoes in a stock soup) followed by a main of beef chunks with grated carrot and more potato. It was quite tasty. We had a few hours to fill, and so I joined a few others for a short walk up a ridge line behind the centre. It was beautiful overlooking the rolling mountains, flood plains and UB in the distance.

Looking towards UB

 Gartuuga, one of the guys we went up with is a very proud Mongolian, and told us about the region. How the houses we could see were "summer houses" as they weren't connected to central heating. Apparently, each Mongolian is allocated some land at birth. He also explained that the stone ovoo's which we had climbed up to were used historically to mark the territories, and had quite a spiritual significance. He gave us each three stones, and we had to walk around the rock ovoo three times dropping a stone each time, and saying our prayers to the local spirits. It would have been great to stay up there longer, but it was freezing so we quickly went back to the conference centre.

Rock ovoo overlooking the Summer houses

 

Dinner was similar to lunch, but fuelled by vodka shots. I tried to avoid it as much as possible! Gee these guys can drink! Then we went downstairs at 8pm for a "disco". It very much reminded me of Craig’s Karaoke night last year – there were laser lights, music playing in the background, and everyone dancing around (ok, I guess we were singing at Craig’s, not dancing, but it did have a bit of a living room feel).

A night's not complete without vodka

 

It was a great day to meet some more people from the office – I just hope I can remember everyone’s name on Monday morning!

Boots made for (Mongolian) walking

Last night I went on a mission. Shoes. It quickly became apparent that I had made a poor decision with my packing - snow boots were soooo 3 weeks ago, sneakers just wouldn't cut it with the modern Mongol fashionistas, and heels were never going to survive the dusty, rocky, non-existant footpath. Boots it was to be. I haven't yet figured out how to get a handmade pair, and so the next best place is the State Department Store. A multi-storey, "stately" building west of the square, and one-stop-shop in the city for anything from potatoes, to perfume, to bikes...and my purpose for the evening, boots. It's also handy that the store is open until 10pm - even Mongolia is more progressive than Australia in terms of shopping hours!

I quickly found the shoe section (women's intuition) and was delighted to see about 50m2 of boots. Apparently the only footwear available here. Fine with me. I soon set about assessing the range and trying things on. For about 40min I bustled around, taking shoes from the stand, destroying displays. Knee length or ankle? Bling for buckles or cowgirl style? Interestingly, most were imported from Europe. How odd would it be to travel all the way to Mongolia to buy Italian boots?

A promising scene

No matter how much mess I made, somehow, I remained completely non-existant to the sales staff. Not even a eye glimpse of acknowledgement. It was quite unsettling, and I wasn't sure what to do. It took a bit of courage, but after much deliberation I had selected a particularly attractive option - black leather, practical flat heel, and complete with fluffly lining - and approached the sales staff. To my surprise, once I'd started the conversation (well, interaction since she didn't speak English) she was really lovely, and helpful. But this is also where the commotion began.

The girl started hunting amongst the piles of boxes. Then her friend joined her. Then another. Sure enough, soon there were 4 of us searching around. After about 20min, I was very happy to accept any pair of shoes, that comprised a left and a right component, and were approximately in my size. Luckily, I was able to make a joke of it with the girls, and it worked out ok. After another 10min we finally found something that matched and fit my criteria.

The hunt - two of the sales staff rummage around for a matching pair

 

It's a bit hard to describe the moment here, but I think it revealed a couple of important things to me. Firstly, what you see on the surface here clearly isn't what lies beneath. The apparently orderly department store-esque looks are meerly camoflague for a system that doesn't exist at all. And perhaps people are just a bit shy around me. Unfortunately, I'm shy too! But hopefully nice and not difficult to approach! Anyway, I feel they are two good things to recognise, and I’ll keep them in mind on future missions.

First Glimpse

There are going to be a lot of new experiences over the next 12 months. A new country, home, culture, language and job. It makes me excited and nervous at the same time! And it all starts with a 23hr flight: Sydney – Singapore – Beijing – Ulaan Baatar.

The first new element was flying business class. I was a bit spoilt on the Singapore Airlines A380. Feet up in the foot cocoon, glass of champagne in hand, complimentary National Geographic on the arm-rest. The next 7hrs were brilliant. Chose your meal from the menu (more elaborate than the usual question of "chicken or beef"), linen table cloth, meal that comes on a plate, not a foil container. Two desserts! Then a plate of cheese! I could stay there all day. Actually, come to think of it, I probably did.

It was stunning flying into the city. For hours you fly over a sweeping snow covered landscape, like a crinkled, white hotel sheet. Then the city just pops up out of nowhere, nestled amongst the mountains. It felt a little strange to think that I would actually be living there, amongst it all, for the best part of the next year. But not unwelcoming either. Just different.

First glimpse of Ulaan Baatar

 I was lucky to meet Kenny, an engineer from CH2M Hill who was flying in for another rotation on the OT site, and chemical engineer who knows one of my old university lecturers, Greg Leslie who I still keep in touch with (small world!). We excitedly chatted away along the 30min trip from the airport, as I tried to quickly digest as much knowledge about the country as I could, but from out of the corner of my eye, I saw us passing ger camps, cattle and goats on the side of the road, before we emerged into a concrete, soviet-style city landscape.

Luckily Kenny had a spare afternoon, and offered to show me around town - ATM, post office, supermarket, Irish pub, main tourist square. All the essentials covered, and a really great start.

Horsemen guarding Government House - Boruchu and Mukhlai

Chinggis Khan statue overlooking Sukhbaatar Square

My first impression of the UB is that it feels very Russian with endless rows of concrete buildings in seemingly poor repair, backing onto dirt roads, or no roads at all. The city appears to be currently holding its breath, waiting to launch into a bluster of change. On every block there are construction sites, seemingly frozen in time - motionless cranes, concrete skeletons of buildings, rubble and galvanised iron fencing. Apparently activity stalls over winter when it becomes too cold for concrete to set, but when summer comes, the city springs to life, with banging, clanging and a flurry of activity as workers hasten to make the most of the limited good weather.

UB motionless construction zones

 In the distance you can see the steam rising from the cooling towers of the power stations, that apparently cause horrendous pollution over winter. Today the air seemed ok. Paved sidewalks are rare, and you feel your way over bumpy ground, keeping an eye out for cars hurtling along the same line.

More construction, and the power plant cooling towers

 I'm staying at the Springs Hotel for my first few weeks until I can find a more permanent apartment to move into. It's a cozy room, but has all the essentials, and I hear there's a pretty good Korean restaurant downstairs that I'm sure to check out over the next few days.