buddha's birthday bash

A couple of weeks ago, on 4 June, Mongolia celebrated Buddha's 2556th birthday. Needless to say, he is one seriously old dude. Or lady. Who really knows? If Monkey taught us anything, it's to doubt the gender of the actors playing Buddha in a poorly dubbed 1980s...what was it? Wiki says "fantasy, action, adventure, comedy". That sums it up nicely.

Ahh. The memories of my wasted youth...


Anyway, Buddha's birthday. Possibly the best decisions I've made since arriving here in UB (aside from, obviously, the one where I thought I'd take a two month hiatus from winter) was to attend the lantern ceremony or "Zul" at the Dambadarjaalin Monastery, a few kilometres north of the city centre.


It had been a glorious summer day, the kind that makes you skip in the street. We'd heard about the ceremony a few weeks before, we had to buy tickets from the "Grab and Go" fast food vans that are dotted around the city.  This part of the plan didn't instil me with much confidence about the quality of the event I'd opted into.

Grab & Go. Not my first choice for culinary adventures

We were instructed to meet at the Children's Palace at 6pm where a bus would take us to the monastery. Rumour had quickly spread late into the afternoon that the bus wasn't coming and that the whole event going to be over before it started. But we met, and we waited patiently and were all surprised when the bus turned up, on time (for Mongolia) and in the right place!


I really had no idea where we were going, but the bus soon headed north and we were into the ger districts before I knew it. The ger districts are not 'typically' beautiful. Not like the streets of Paris or London. But I love them. I love the colourful array of roofs, I love the haphazard arrangement of the dwellings (an equal mix of houses and gers) and the rambling dirt roads strewn with all sorts of flotsam and jetsam. I love the random encounters with livestock.


We soon arrived at the monastery. I walked through the gates and was immediately stuck with a sense of calm and lightness, the likes of which I'd never before experienced. Music was playing, the sun was shining and monks drifted about in their saffron and crimson robes.

Hanging out with a monk - photo credit to Ben Packham

The monastery itself was, of course, beautiful. Though I  believe the sparkling sun light had a lot to do with my perception! The dozen or so monastic buildings were scattered around several acres of land, highlighted by a hill atop of which a small ovoo sat proudly against the clear skies. 

Grey sky - an Ovoo overlooking Erdenet

Monastic building, hill and small ovoo behind

Long abandoned and haunted

Spooky - Another Ben Packham winner

As the sun inched closer to the horizon we made our way to the field where dozens of Mongolian families, many spanning several generations, had already gathered. The monks arranged themselves according to rank along the pews and their chanting intensified. The whole evening they sang only one song. Ordinarily it would drive you bonkers, but their voices were hypnotic and only added to the magical feeling in the air.

I nearly took this one home in my pocket

They have Mongolian Bogans too!

Li Chi, Bron and Jessy 

Zul 

I feel like I've been blabbering on for ages.  I haven't even got to the best part! The lanterns! We were given incense, holy water and a lantern kit when we arrived.  As dusk approached, I opened the packet and puzzled over the instructions, written in the best example of Engrish I've seen since the t-shirt incident at Narantuul a few weeks ago. Obviously my best bet was to find a Mongolian who'd done this sort of thing before...

Dusk - lantern time

Nick and Jess attempt to interpret Engrish

Li Chi and Nick 

Bron

After a few attempts at assembly and several singed knuckles, my wish was secure, albeit on fire, and on its way to the skies! 

Away we go!

It actually wasn't quite as simple as that, as many found out.  You have to hold the lantern until there is enough hot air to lift it into the air like a balloon. Holding it was a challenge in itself. Knowing when to let go was another matter as Jess found out...

Jess receives expert assistance after her first failed attempt

Fly, lantern, FLY!

...!

It was clear from the moment Jess let go that the lantern wasn't going to make it over the wall. But in keeping with the spirit of the night, some lovely teenage boys chased the it all the way to the gate, hoisting themselves up inorder to free it from the nook it had drifted into. Jess, I sure hope your wish comes true.

Happy birthday, Buddha. Thanks for filling me with the sense of warmth and wonderment I thought I'd lost in childhood. 

Ax

spring too: does Fozzie have feet?

It's Saturday, though I doubt it will be when I post this. It's raining for the first time in what feels like weeks. It's dirty; the rain. And the streets. And my shoes. It's cold. I'm wearing my new camel hair socks. I look like Fozzie Bear. Though, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen his feet. Does Fozzie have feet?

The similarity

...is uncanny

Jess and I went to Narantuul today. We went on a clothes run. It's where Fozzie and I were united. Mongolians don't really wear second hand clothes so you won't see any op shops in the city. Narantuul is another matter. It is an enormous market where you can find just about anything if you have the time and the patience - a ger if you need. A kitchen sink to go in it too. It is, surprisingly, organised. Shoes and boots are all together in one place, hardware in another. It (actually, mostly novices like me) would benefit a great deal from some signage. After all this time I'm beginning to get my bearings. Just. But I know exactly where all the second hand clothes and shoes are sold. Most of it is pretty bad.  Today Jess and I happened upon some polyester body shirts that made the 70s look drab.  We also found (though in the 'new' clothing section) a touching, what I can only assume to be Chinese, proverb printed on a t-shirt:


See the sky between a woman's thighs
See the sky between your own thighs
See the sky through your belongings by making holes in thrm (sic)
I.e. pants, jackets, shirts, stockings etc


We cried with laughter, much to the amusement bemusement of the shop keepers. 


Like most op shops, we went in search of untold treasures.  Recently I've purchased two pairs of second hand, leather boots for less than $20 each and a rather amazing vintage dress - another for my collection. I practically ran to it as soon as it caught my eye. It was love at first sight. I'm also developing an addiction to what I've called "old Mongolian lady" hats. I have two. But I plan to amass several more before my time here is done. Getting them home might be a problem. I'll wear them on the plane if I have to.

Hat 1. Blue

Hat 2. Camel

New dress...whiskey face

Back to the rain. The drainage in this city is almost nonexistent. The roads are completely flat and there are barely any storm water drains.  Even after a light drizzle, the water pools in the gutters making it impossible to cross the street without getting wet. The water is murky from the dirt and other unspeakable things it's sloughed from the streets. It's also curiously bubbly, like someone has emptied their dirty dishwater into the gutters. It could well be Morning Fresh for all I know. This city it full of surprises. Our house is currently using Morning Fresh circa 2000.

Something unspeakable on my Narantuul boots...

It's colder now than it was in the depths of winter. Well, inside at least. I had grown quite accustomed to my sweat moustache breaking out every time I stepped in my front door. A balmy 30 degrees all winter long. The State turned off the heating in early May and for the first time since arriving I've slept fully clothed and bundled in my doona/duvet/comforter like a normal person. Doona is such a strange word.


Spring started with such a bang. Thirty degree days, sunburn, short sleeves, dirty thong-clad feet. Then the winds came. The infamous April winds.  It blows the sand from the Говь (Gobi) through my bedroom window, it makes my hair crisp with dirt. As a side note: Gobi just means "desert".


Spring also brings snow. Beautiful snow. It clears the air and dusts the mountains with sugar. It makes even the ugliest eyesore beautiful. Sometimes, when the light is right, it glitters. It is the most wondrous thing. It's like how I imagine it to be living inside a snow dome. Mostly it is real snow but sometimes, when the State feels the need, they seed the clouds. The snow is different. Bigger, crispier, heavier. Weird. But I'll never tire of it. I'll miss it when I return home.

Fractals in all their beauty

It was Children's Day on Friday. A public holiday for most, but not for me!  Lotus had a party to celebrate the day and the grand opening for the new (now nearly 6 months old!) centre in Gachuurt. Despite the fickle weather, I think the kids still had a great time. They were showered with gifts - huge bags of sweets and, oddly enough, a can of pineapple. The weight of the can was too much for the flimsy bags. Most of the them exploded their contents all over the ground, much to the surprise horror of the children, who scrambled to save their precious, sugary delights!

Iderbold looking pretty pleased with himself

Ganstsegtseg - you're definitely not get any

Hatah, post pineapple explosion

I helped to coordinate games to keep the kids occupied (and to burn off some of the sugar!) in the afternoon. Apple bobbing, donuts on a string, twister, pin the tail on the horse (or donkey...but you know, this IS Mongolia). I was worried that the kids would judge me for my choice of games. Turns out they were a big hit. Especially the food related games. Children after my own heart...

The head teacher, Dolmaa gets in on the action too

Oh. And, yes. He does!

Ax