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Hallowe’en and Mongolian Proficiency | #64 | November 2022

In this entry, I pick up with November 2O22’s beginning, from what was the start of my new Peace Corps assignment to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.

Chronologically, this takes place from the start of my third and fourth weeks back in Mongolia. As part of my current Peace Corps continuum, I spent those weeks in the remainder of my reeducation. Capping that off would be my Language Proficiency Interview, in which a rater would formally assess my Mongolian language level. I also spent these weeks becoming first acquainted with the city's municipal department of education and a handful of local non-profit organizations.

I’ve still felt especially grateful to St. Joseph’s Day, Mar. 19, 2O23, during which I made serious progress on this piece, while a dear friend was simultaneously taking care of tasks. Now from November 2O23, we at last revisit November 2O22!

At the Education Department

I felt surprised on my first day at work, Mon., Oct. 31, 2O22, with my main counterpart taking me to meet some 45 coworkers across our department’s, at the time, five sectors. We began from our little space in an office at the back of room 505. As we approached one-by-one desks together, my new counterpart would attempt on the fly a translation of the job title of whomever we were greeting. In my brown gridded notebook I tried to jot a list of people’s names, nicknames and titles. We walked from one desk to the next like this, office room after office room.

After the initial hello to everyone working in our department, I remembered too that I’d brought from Reno joke calendar pages gifted by my Bostonian friend Jim. I felt distributing the pages would be a lovely way to ensure that everyone I met got a slice of American English. And so, the next days at work, I began revisiting people’s desks to deliver to them these jokes.

On my solo visits to people’s desks I would also bring my Mongolian-English Oxford Monsudar compact dictionary to assist me as I helped people to interpret. I stayed at one’s desk usually till I got a smile of recognition about what made the joke funny. Sometimes nearby coworkers’ who’d understood their jokes would help newcomers, too.

The method of visiting four dozen people’s desks did wonders for my ability to understand pretty well quite a diverse slate of English abilities. The actual process of ensuring that each of my coworkers received their pages actually took many days, though, in part because some were out of the office when I first arrived. Nonetheless, I noted their names on a whiteboard in the office space of my main counterpart and me.

Allhallowtide With Friends

As I mentioned, my first day at the department office was Oct. 3I. So that evening after work, I met up with Peace Corps Mongolia for a Hallowe’en party gathering. I felt glad that the M3I Peace Corps Trainees had handled arrangements for it. All I had to do was to navigate to Star Apartments!

M3Is there in the community center felt eager to hear how my first day at work had gone. All I had to do after getting off work was arrive then swap into my Captain America get-up. Still, I enjoyed having the chance to get in costume. I’d brought the shirt specifically thinking how it would make an easy albeit on-the-nose costume. The Trainees looked great. We got to meet our Peace Corps staff’s kids, too! I enjoyed getting to be a proud hero.

As folks were leaving, I became graced with many candies to take home. I of course took the leftovers, so I spent time filling my backpack. Our Director of Programming and Training was around too, so we spoke briefly. He said kind words about the magnitude of my returning to service, especially with my interest in starting a foreign service career. When we were by the gate outside on the icy night, he impressed upon me that my choosing to return to Mongolia after three years away was something so meaningful to people.

I returned to the education department office the next morning, Tues., Nov. 1, 2O22, for my second day of work. I needed to meet my ‘big boss’ to sign some paperwork. My main counterpart and I actually ran into him in the elevator! I felt welcomed when he said in Mongolian that my look was handsome. From the elevator we headed to his office to get the Peace Corps Volunteer agency agreement signed. He wished us well with our cooperation. He had a very kind smile.

I was grateful that night to return to simple little St. Thomas Aquinas Church for its All Saints’ Day Mass. Singing “One Bread, One Body” across the Pacific was still a joy. The Gloria reminded me of the same Mongolian one in Erdenet sung years before.

The next day, Wed., Nov. 2, All Souls’ Day, I accompanied the Peace Corps on an excursion to the world’s largest equestrian statue of Chinggis Khaan, giving me a break from my work duties. On the adventure the new cohort got to practice in the bus, “Аяны шувууд” /Aynii Shuvuud/, my go-to Mongolian song.

Throughout the week were also a blend of misadventures, involving joyful times throughout our city, Ulaanbaatar (UB). The tasks were mostly either to get supplies or to complete Peace Corps paperwork. Still, a key Thursday night highlight was reuniting with my Peace Corps Pre-Service Training Cross-Cultural Facilitator Bulgaa. She welcomed me to dinner atop the Shangri-La mall and had even shown me the school where she works. A Friday night highlight was joining my coworkers at the gymnasium for volleyball, reminiscent of my months in the countryside with my host family in Nomgon, Selenge.

Cathedral Reunion: Second Sunday

A couple days later, that Sunday, Nov. 6, I traveled across town to the cathedral I remembered years earlier. Well, I got off at one bus stop too soon. Still, I'd left my apartment so early that I still arrived on time.

As I approached the hazel-colored stone ger-shaped building, it felt quite familiar. Though, it sported an unfamiliar 30th anniversary poster on the door through which I entered.

I came early for an English Mass that’s usually scheduled at 9 a.m. Sundays. Instead, a priest explained, there would be adoration.

I enjoyed the time I could spend in prayer.

A woman greeted me in passing with a hand on my shoulder. I took her to be an ICM religious sister, for she was Black and wore traditional Mongolian clothes.

Before the benediction, I received a sheet in Mongolian listing the words to say and sing. I remembered that “ерөөх” is a verb that relates to blessing and praise.

I learned during Mass in the cathedral that we were celebrating the 125th anniversary of the ICM Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. It also celebrated their 27th year in Mongolia and the 25th anniversary of a certain sister's consecration. The cardinal celebrated the Mass. (He was among the cardinals whose elevation we'd celebrated this spring in Vienna.)

Before Mass, I also received a pamphlet with an English translation summarizing the cardinal's homily. By the time Mass began, I realized that it turned out the Sister who greeted me was the same Cameroonian Sister Lucilla whom we honored that day.

I also reunited with one of the pastors I knew from Erdenet, the one who had helped me evacuate. I also met again a UB Catholic I’d first met when I had come back to the cathedral during Advent 2OI9. Parishioners and staff even recognized me despite my having gotten to visit with them only once, those three years prior!

Sunday Night Language After School

I took the southern bus from the cathedral back toward the Narantuul/Dunjingarav area where my practicum group had gone before, when we’d lived at Holiday Inn. I found my way well enough. Then began the walk.

I looked for the National Park area and then for Park Od Mall. I had read that this mall was near another mall named similarly but different. Along the way, I passed a Singaporean school, which surprised me. The trek reminded me of a dark walk in Malaysia’s Petaling Jaya on my way to St. Ignatius Church.

I found the Park Od Mall lovely to know it had a glass bridge. The person with whom I’d meet found that detail quite mundane. “It’s a bridge,” she wrote, haha.

Happening to work in this mall was a Mongol who had contacted me years ago, during the pandemic’s start when I had just returned to Vegas. This evening she had invited me to visit her to practice my Mongolian. So indeed I came. She was so cute! When I arrived, she simply invited me behind the desk, and there we sat working.

Turns out she owned the very store where we sat with my language notebooks open. I felt so surprised. She imported Korean products to sell. She was also heading back to Korea soon, so we just happened to be in Mongolia at the same time.

She identified my lisping and quickly suggested remedy sounds I could make instead. I felt stunned by how kindly she diagnosed and remedied some of my most troubling pronunciation challenges. I wondered why she was so generous to me. She reminded me of the many warm young people I had met in China as an exchange student years ago. Still, I returned her favor with English advice.

The hour felt quite, quite late by the time we finished in her office. So she walked me back to the bus stop. She looked fully wrapped in her warm coat, such that one could barely see her eyes from beneath everything.

She helped me to ask young folks also at the bus stop which bus route was right for me. In the cold, I got a deeper crash course in how to use the clunky UB Smart Bus app to parse the right route. It hardly made much sense with my limited data, though.

My newfound friend was off to Korea, but asked if I could help her with English. We accepted that a video call could work too. I appreciated her generosity and wished her the best. She wished me likewise. I took the cold bus from the shopping area back to my apartment.

Monday Reunion With Former Students

The next night, Mon., Nov. 7, I walked for a bit with M3O Eric and M3I Kat then traveled to reunite with two of my former students. M3I Kat joined me. I found the Tse Pub where Google Maps routed me, and its downstairs interior indeed resembled the one to which I'd gone with friends Adonis and Buynaa nearly three years earlier.

Kat and I found a table to await my students. They came from my senior English teachers class and my junior Chinese translation students I’d taught at the National University of Mongolia, Erdenet School in 2OI9. Since that was years ago by fall 2O22, however, they had both since graduated. Curiously, the Chinese translation student’s brother, another of my friends, was in Dubai!

I chatted with my former students over simple food and drinks. I felt like Tse’s prices had risen since their original $1–2 USD pricing. Nonetheless, I found their $3 rates competitive. Inflation does that.

My formers asked me whether I had a crush, which was surprisingly hard to answer. So I respond truthfully, "Мэдэхгүй," pronounced as I tend to prefer, /Мэдкү/. This answer seemed somewhat disappointing to my formers. Still, I felt conflicted as to whether chance encounters warranted the emotionally taxing label.

Nonetheless, more exciting to me was the reality of having gathered together so many friends, new and old, in a seemingly familiar place. UB after all was a city I had visited only sparingly in the nine months I spent in Mongolia before. To reunite here with such warm people was a magical joy.

Tuesday Assembly Follow-Up

The following night, Tues. Nov. 8, I visited an associate pastor and his family, whom I met briefly at their church the prior Oct. 3O Sunday I came for Brian Hogan's talk. His family lived in an area near mine, hence my ease of accepting their invitation. He, his wife and children were pleasant. We enjoyed a living room meal, for which I remembered to bring the customary gift of something white such as milk.

During our conversation, the husband taught me that we use a different verb in Mongolian, “гаргах,” to refer to the specific kind of killing of an animal I would witness soon. My main coworker was from Хархорин /Harhorin/ and had invited me to come visit her hometown with her to collect the winter’s meat. Harhorin has been especially famous for its location beside Mongolia’s historic capital, Хархорум /Karakorum/.

I felt so surprised too that one of the pastor’s sons was superb at English from having learned it on YouTube. The son would have to work on his Mongolian language, though. Still, it was my first time to encounter such a situation in which a Mongol child in UB would know English better than Mongolian.

Wednesday Reunion and Finale

In order to secure my travel with my coworker to her province, she had called my language tester (her childhood friend) to move my test a day early. So the next night, Wed., Nov. 8, my meet-up with my friend Adonis moved a day earlier thanks to some flexibility on his part. He also brought along one of his students to meet me.

We met in a place entirely unexpected to me. Yet the moment we entered, I knew exactly where we were. It was the Modern Nomads in which I had shared my Last Supper in Mongolia among fellow evacuating Peace Corps Volunteers who wanted a final Mongolian meal in March 2O2O. Thankfully, my friend had me and his student sit in a different section of the restaurant.

His student's name reminded me of one of my former Mongolian language teachers, as her name was Bulgan too. In the English language portion of our conversation, we spoke at length about speaking with confidence. Thankfully my friend and I gave her relatively the same advice.

After dinner, Adonis started practice drills through frequent Mongolian language errors of mine and how to address them. I felt amazed by the precision with which he identifies and addresses my linguistic challenges. He really did make use of his degrees in psychology and linguistics.

In the restaurant, I overheard through the speakers a bittersweetly unmistakable song. I listened to this exact violin track morning after cold morn’ in Erdenet, rising for work many days. It was Degi’s sweet rendition of "Аяны шувууд" /Ayanii shuvuud/, the Mongolian song I sang for Teachers’ Day 2OI9. Hearing the familiar song with a familiar friend in the familiar place gave me a spiritual sense that God and Mongolia smiled, “Welcome back.”

The next morning I would take the language exam for which I had been preparing so long. Then that day I would leave the capital for my return to Mongolia’s countryside.

Tested and Set Free

The morning of Thursday, Nov. 9, my LPI began after some time. I was back at what we called “Cluster B,” behind the Peace Mall. The name felt fitting despite no connection to the Peace Corps.

In the familiar room where I practiced many afternoon lessons alongside fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, M3O Eric, I was alone this day with our tester. Our trainer Sumiya had prepared us well. This was much less stressful than my original LPI years ago. This time the tester and I spoke about my experiences in Mongolia before evacuating and upon returning, rather than something about where to put luggage. My tester too had been one of my teachers during our weeklong In-Service Training 2OI9!

After I finished, I felt glad to see Instructors Sumiya and Bolormaa in the corridor, as well as staff member Erka. I very gratefully spoke some Mongolian thanks to the three before grabbing my backpack and charging phone then hustling down to and out of Cluster B toward my apartment. I’d need to grab my sleeping bag and be ready to go.

As I walked back to my apartment, I reflected on how to some degree, the test was not about accuracy. It was a test about understanding. And yes, I definitely fell short of my grammatical accuracy and proper pronunciation many times. Yet, for the most part, I think I was understood, even if at times I didn't understand. I crossed the street onto Sukhbaatar Square’s sidewalk.

I continued to cross the sidewalk and noticed conversations from my fellow board officers of the Overseas Dispatch, an online experiment in forming community during the pandemic. At the traffic light as I waited to exit Sukhbaatar Square, I responded to the team’s messages and our consensus to gracefully dissolve.

Up next, I was off to a province to which I hadn’t been before.

You can read more from me here at memoryLang.tumblr.com :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #memoir #story #Catholic #God #memoryLang #USA #scholarship #hotel #Asia #countryside #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #UB #culture shock #travel #winter #Ulaanbaatar #Erdenet

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memorylang · 1 year

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In Mongolia at Last | #60 | October 2022

Today marks the second month to the day since my return to Mongolia. I’d persisted two and a half years in finally getting to share this story of having returned to Mongolia. I wish I could have gotten to it sooner! Still, I hope as you read on you’ll know what’s kept me busy. I start first with the juiciest bit of us returning then circle back to how I got here.

Mongolia

The morning of Tuesday, October 18, 2O22, I step from Turkish Airlines back into Mongolia, the “Land of the Eternal Blue Sky.” I wear the silver дээл /dehl/ shirt I received from my host family for Naadam in 2OI9. I lug the silver backpack my mother planned to gift me when she was still alive.

I had considered leaving my silver backpack behind in the States because of its wear. But it’d been with me for so long around the world since 2OI7. I chose to bring it back, still.

This airport looks different than I remember. Eric, my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, comments that this must be the new airport, I think. Immigration definitely feels like a warm breeze here compared to the cold floors we knew before. I pass through without challenge.

I feel elated for another reason, too.

Right at the door from immigration stands my Country Director.

Our American leader grins with her characteristic welcome and diplomacy. We share a big hug. We chat about how nice Ulaanbaatar’s new Chinggis Khaan International Airport is. We’ll have plenty more time to chat later, anyway. Beside her stands our General Services Manager, a Mongolian man with whom I hadn’t shared too many conversations. Still, he beams, and I’m so glad to see him. We three know each other.

The New Chinggis Khaan International Airport

Baggage claim is smooth, so smooth. I grab my bags with relief to see they’re all here this time. I’m still surprised by how cozy this airport feels. I trek toward what seems to be an exit. I feel excited yet disoriented, recalling my 2OI9 trip into Beijing during service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I exit baggage claim.

Wandering out, I spot suddenly to my right these huge Peace Corps Mongolia “Hello Again 2O22” banners held by familiar figures of staff I haven’t seen in over two years. I enthusiastically take up hugs with anyone offering. I embrace both my past Regional Manager and our Safety & Security manager, with whom I don't even recall being so close. Still, goodness, what a difference years apart yet online make.

I’ve barely a moment to wait as I’ve bags to load onto whatever bus we’re taking this time into the city. I shuffle on through, gleefully greeting any Peace Corps Mongolia staff member as we recognize each other. Amid my new reality, I notice too an unfamiliar blonde woman and man. I hear somewhere they’re with the U.S. Embassy.

What Comes Next?

With bags loaded, I’m free. I hop back off the bus to see. It’s a brisk 6°C (43°F) this October morn.

I take in the moment. M3O Eric stands beside me outside. We had similar ideas. I'm astonished to learn that Eric was late to our bus meeting in Seattle because he was seeing a mutual friend of ours, my Nomgon neighbor, Sam.

I'm not shocked for long though beside Eric and me, beside the bus, stands too our Director of Programming & Training. Of course, the director and I share a huge hug. He tells Eric and me with a wide smile how today staff is to swear us in immediately and get us back to serving soon.

We’re glad to hear it. I’m genuinely excited about the prospect of serving again so soon. But, I’m not sure whether to believe they’re really about to reactivate us. Still our director sounded reliable.

Not long after, the M3Is file through and onto the buses.

Once everyone’s about settled, we all hop back off for a big facemasked photo. I brave the cool with my coat left on the bus so that my дээл /dehl/ is entirely visible. As the Peace Corps Mongolia banner unfurls, I stand toward the front, beside it. Next to me stands Ken, with whom I chatted from our Seattle hotel. Peace Corps is really back in Mongolia.

Staging in Seattle

That preceding Friday afternoon on October 14, 2O22, my flight to Peace Corps’ staging lands in Seattle, Washington. I’m walking across the plane that brought me out of Vegas when I receive a text. It’s from a Trainee in the new M3I cohort, Chris. He’s landing in Seattle about when I do.

I head to SeaTac's baggage claim. I remember having met my fellow M3Os, Marisa and L, at the Philadelphia airport three years ago. Now I’m back in Seattle, where I visited my first and second times last summer. It won’t be long before I don’t travel alone.

Sure enough, the tall man Chris walks up. He explains he's from Portland. I remember my time there around this time last October. Chris’s flight to Seattle was his very first flight, he beams. I welcome him to the Peace Corps with a smile.

First Ordeals

I find not long after meeting Chris a complication. My orange backpack seems not to have arrived with me. So I head to Alaska Airlines’ desk. Its attendants send me back to the carousels. I wait quite a while longer, with Chris staying by my side.

The ordeal occurs for about an hour. During this time M3Is Ken and Darcy, who'd texted having also arrived, go ahead to the light rail. Meanwhile, another M3I, Alex, arrives beside Chris and me, too. I remember Alex’s face from Zoom calls preceding today.

Our trio decides we ought not to keep waiting. I come back to Alaska Airlines’ desk to put in a mishandled bag ticket, hoping my bag arrives the next day. Wow, this feels like Munich this summer. Then haul our things to the light rail, too. I remember October’s NYC trip yet with more walking here. I think too about that time I traveled to D.C. from Vegas when the Capitals were playing our Golden Knights.

Our trio rides the light rail a while. When at last we hop out, we lug our luggage uphill many blocks. Now this reminds me of San Francisco last August yet sweatier. I’m wearing the heavy coat I’m bringing back to Mongolia, though I really don’t need it for Seattle’s October. I’m pleased to pass by the public library I remember from my Seattle solo adventure last summer, though.

Peace Corps Arrival

At last we reach the hotel. Chris, Alex and I split as we check and head to rooms. Upstairs I find Peace Corps staging staff of Nick and Maya so friendly. I feel weirded out somewhat by how tight COVID-19 protocols remain. Still, I see my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Eric, M3O, and feel a bit better despite the oddness.

Eric and I catch up over Mexican food a brief walk away. I like how he has real Southern calm about him. I remember conversations we shared when we were Trainees in the ger camp outside of Ulaanbaatar (UB), three years ago. We were two of our cohort’s members also into Chinese studies.

Staging

Eric and I return to our hotel, and staging begins. I try not to too blatantly draw attention to how I’m one of us two evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers who were serving before in Mongolia. I try to focus more on getting to know my new peers. In among the first activities then, I get to know a fellow Asian American seated behind me, Christine. I’m surprised by what led her to Peace Corps but feel confident that she’ll be fine.

I expect to get to know others in the M3I cohort more when we’re together the next day. There are about half the Trainees in this cohort compared to those in Eric’s and mine. Still, when the traditional ice-breaker comes asking what weird thing we packed, I decide to reveal a piece of my heart. I packed my bus card from our first summer in UB, and I want to see whether it still works in Mongolia.

Navigating the Old and New

After the evening session, I’m on a side quest. My sister Becky and her new boyfriend Solomon are also in town. That night, they pick me up from the Renaissance Seattle Hotel where Peace Corps is staying, and they take me to enjoy delicious Indian food with them nearby. I recall when I visited Becky last summer in the Seattle area, too. Her boyfriend Solomon’s quirky, funny and wise.

Saturday I go back through staging. It exhausts me at times. Its minimal acknowledgment that this ain’t the first staging for evacuated returnees bugs me sometimes. I still remember plenty from my first staging. Personally exhausting too is how memories left dormant for two and a half, sometimes three, years would ping pong back to me.

I stay upbeat while getting to know the new Trainees. At least I’ve only 23 names to learn right now. Eric and I had to learn so many more as Trainees in 2OI9.

Bonding

During one of staging’s identity exercises, we’re asked to consider three aspects of our identity that will become most apparent about us in Mongolia. I announced that three regarding me would be that I’m young, Asian and single. I remember these from what coworkers and locals would often say to me.

At lunch, I walk with many M3Is to a pizza place where we can build what we like. I get my Subway-style everything meal. I enjoy the company of the down-to-earth Midwesterners with whom I dine outside. One reminds me of my former sitemate from Wisconsin, Emilie, our volleyball star. I miss her.

I’m surprised by how many in the new cohort also have China backgrounds. That’s nice. Our walk again past Seattle’s major public library reminds me of conversations I had there with the National Peace Corps Association. I’ll miss the stellar stateside Walk Around Allowance that Peace Corps provides, too.

New Recruits

Amid staging, I also reunite with/meet for the first time Rowan, an M3I I met virtually back in fall 2O2O. We’re so glad to meet at last in person. She feels to me like an old friend. I also enjoy hearing the teaching background of Ken and the social work background of Darcy. As part of the ice-breakers, Rowan and Darcy are in my doodling group, which I enjoy. Humorously, some of the Trainees mistake our group’s drawing of someone sad and alone to being a drawing of a blood sacrifice upon an altar. (It’s because of that red marker we had.)

I meet as well Kat, a person whose backgrounds of both Chinese and Germanic descent mirror mine. I’m surprised by how well-dressed Caroline of Massachusetts is! We have quite a few from Massachusetts here. I pass along warm wishes, “Minglaballers for life,” from a past college classmate to two Trainees who trained with him in Peace Corps Myanmar before the global evacuation that followed Peace Corps China’s and Mongolia’s evacuations.

One Last Night

That night after staging’s main day concludes, I return to the place where Becky (and now 'rock' star Solomon) is staying in Bellevue. It was here last summer that I received the very silver journal in which I'm writing my current experiences. Tonight Becky cohosts here a talent show that's more of an open mic.

For my act, I share the story of how “Frozen II” moved me during evacuation. With its significance on the floor, I sing an unrehearsed, "Show Yourself.” They receive my song well. The night reminds me of when I similarly performed the song once during the pandemic back at my college parish, the spring preceding our other younger sister Vana’s future fiancé’s graduation party.

Throughout the Saturday too I’d checked with Alaska Airlines on the status of my missing backpack, but no specific luck. It feels too much like the summer’s Munich ordeal awaiting my bag from Singapore and Qatar. I pray everything just arrives in time.

Sunday in America

My final morning in America, I get back on the phone with Alaska Airlines to hear that my luggage made it to the airport. They lack time now to deliver it to our hotel. But it’s here in Seattle.

My college parish community prayed for me this weekend, I learn. What could have been worse was better! I conclude that the Devil had been trying to rattle me one more time along my path back to do good ‘round our world.

I report my bag’s return to our desk officer Nick. He commends me for my good humor. That was something my past priest would say, too. (Thanks to that priest I’d been discerning with the Jesuits after coming back from Southeast Asia.) Unfortunately, our priest retired not long after Reno’s new bishop from Seattle came and replaced him.

Sunday Service

For Sunday Mass, I find that my nearest parish is the archdiocesan cathedral! So I stroll across the bridge over roadways to attend Mass. It’s a beautiful area that reminds me of New England. During the service I consider how this was the very cathedral from which the man who made himself pastor of our parish in Reno came.

The Mass also reminds me of parishes I attended in Southeast Asia, with their unfamiliarity yet allure. The cathedral even reminds me how last Sunday I celebrated Mass in New York’s cathedral! My prayers today are of thanksgiving not petition. Still, I hope I’ll have a Catholic parish to attend in Mongolia. I hope I won’t go long without Christ’s Eucharist!

Heading Out

I hustle back to the hotel after Mass, ascend the elevator to my room, grab my bags and descend again. I reunite with the Peace Corps Trainees. The friendly Nepali American Trainee Sareena leads my team. I appreciate her chill directness.

All Trainees receive yarn of a similar color to that which Eric and I received three years ago. Though, this shade is slightly greener than our electric blue. We fasten these to our bags then cross the street to our waiting bus.

Eric is away, however, forcing our Peace Corps community to wait a while. In the meantime, chow down on my leftover everything pizza. This seems endearing to some folks in the cohort, at least.

We board the bus. At last Eric appears! We set off for to the airport.

Beside me sits Ken, the likable English instructor with quite a penchant for fun methodologies. From him and an M3I Eric, I learn that quite a few of the Trainees beside Rowan have waited these pandemic years to accept their invitations to serve, as well.

I enjoy talking with Ken. He reminds me of the M3O Ken I knew, with whom I hiked in Ulaanbaatar our days before Swear-In. I missed Ken when he Early Terminated (ET). Still, I hope none of the M3Is ET.

Seattle's Airport

When we arrive back at the airport, I have to split from the group to head back downstairs to Alaska Airlines’ baggage claim. I’m glad I don’t have to be a group leader since that’s responsibility I don’t want to think about. I entrust my welbeing to the friendly Rowan. Then I beeline straight back to Alaska’s desk.

I see my bag’s a bit dirtied. But, it’s my bag. I’ve awaited it. Desk Officer Nick had advised me to insist on compensation, so I get a brochure on how to reach customer service for compensation. I report the phase of the mission accomplished and trek back upstairs.

Back in Time

In line before bag weighing, I help some people who feel extreme stress. This reminds me of my experience helping the M29 during evacuation. I miss her, too.

Further along the airport line, I receive a compliment from a man for the wooden Holy Spirit cross I wear. I comment how it reminds me God is always with me. The man agrees. His daughter served in Peace Corps Namibia, he explains. He kindly lends us his luggage scale as we near the front.

Unfortunately, Turkish Airlines calls my bags too heavy. So I, like some Trainees who came before me, must reconsolidate my belongings. I’m not too concerned, but the process annoys me. I just brute force my hope that this all works out. And it does.

Forth in Time

I’m rewarded by seeing Sareena, tall Tom and our other leaders awaiting me. I feel consoled seeing Jeff, too, an older gentleman with good spirit. The clump of Trainees reminds me I’m no longer alone. I’m with a new community.

Once our cohort reaches our gate, I take a video call with both my siblings and recipients of this year’s inaugural Lin Yuejun Lang Asia Scholarship. I have fun getting to speak with them before I leave the country. Our recipients seem really cool too, having studied in South Korea and Thailand. Glad my siblings get to see me having fun.

I also have time to complain to Alaska Airlines’ customer service to get more than the normal points compensation for the baggage issue. I don’t like complaining, so I appeal to integrity. A little compensation tempers my temper some.

Nearby, folks from the training cohort claim to recognize members of Mongolia’s famous band, the HU, who wait in line. The Trainees suggest they’re visiting home between tours. I’m surprised Trainees recognize them. Some daring Trainees even walk up for pics. I honestly can’t tell if it’s really them, and I choose not to bother. Still, it’s cool to think that may be the HU.

The Flight

Our cohort boards. For the long flight, I'm seated with both Kat and Sareena. Our Asian American trio speaks at length from Seattle to Istanbul.

I enjoy sharing Asian roots with my new peers. Sareena strikes me as someone who could really lead, and Kat seems so thoughtful. I enjoy getting to know what’s bringing them to Mongolia as I go back. Their perspectives on culture, psych and privilege both warm and challenge me.

Across continents, I also decide to see, “X-Men: Days of Future Past.” The film both further celebrates my having seen Hugh Jackman on Broadway and feels like a sequel to my having seen in Southeast Asia, “X-Men: First Class.” I’m glad too that “Days of Future Past” has a continuity that reminds me of “X2,” which I saw so many years ago, back in school.

Anyway, the superhero thrills keep me awake while I fight the jetlag. I don’t think I glean particularly monumental lessons from these. Neat to see President Kennedy, Peace Corps’ founder, referenced. I like Marvel flicks.

Through Istanbul

The M3Is, Eric and I spend little time in Istanbul’s airport before we board again for Mongolia. That said, I do have time to split from the group to catch foreign Pokémon in “Pokémon GO.” I complete a raid and plant a Pokémon on a gym. I don’t expect I’ll be playing video games much after we land.

Anyway, close enough to midnight local time, we hop back on a plane, this time for Ulaanbaatar. Seats shuffle a bit, though Kat and Sareena aren’t far. I kick off trying to rest against jetlag.

Past about 6 a.m. local time, I hear Trainees worry about declarations and immigration. “What did you put as your visa number?” one asks, tapping my shoulder. To be honest, I hardly care. I don’t remember those responses affecting much.

Turkish Experiences

During the flight, I also reflect on Turkish people I met lately. There was a young sports player named Ozan I met while returning to America from Europe this summer. There was a Haluk, too, the young Muslim I met in New York this month. Remembering them reminds me how connected our world is.

I also remember, while maybe Turkish or not, a thoughtful Asian flight attendant with a dark, wavy bob who had served on our flight from America to Turkey. She stood out to me because of a time on the flight when I simply requested a snack. Another attendant had answered my request, actually. But I noticed across the plane that the female attendant said something to him. When the man returned with a snack, I received not only one but two, as well as a sour cherry juice I remember choosing from her earlier on the flight. That above-and-beyond care struck me as so in line with that personal way God loves. This is how I am to love.

I’m also still wrapping my head around the realization that I’m really going back to Mongolia. Looping in my head is “Breathe” from “In the Heights.” Two and a half years… and I’m going back.

Peace Corps Mongolia to Ulaanbaatar

After we land in Mongolia, get our bearings and get the bannered photo, we hop back aboard our buses. We’re separated in accordance with COVID-19 mitigation standards. Peace Corps and Embassy staff step on to wish us well before we’re off. For the road, we’re treated to modest plastic bags of snacks and water.

I sit toward the back, recalling my experience when we first came to Mongolia, and I sat there, too. This time, however, I’m without so many in this row. Social distancing limits close quarters.

As we ride through the countryside from the new airport to the city, I remember my winter trips from the airport when I took leave. Though Mongolia had snow already in mid-October, the cold isn’t like that which I remembered from December 2OI9 and January 2O2O. Still, I feel as though having pined for this landscape.

Unfortunately, we see across the hillside no herding occurring through a Prius. I guess we’re in the wrong season or place to spot that. Still, I recall seeing that among the biggest surprises to me in response to what our former Director of Management Operations had said, that we would, “see people do things with a Prius you [we] never thought possible.” Still, that was among the greatest things I witnessed that summer in the countryside.

As our bus nears the city, I think back to what few adventures I’d had in the capital, getting to see friends at their apartments, for example. I’d no sense of the city’s apartment geography, so I’m not sure if I’m looking in the right direction. Still, I know I’m seeing UB.

Re-Education

We arrive at a hotel I don’t recognize and ascend without roommates because of pandemic restrictions. The hotel is so fancy. After dropping our bags, we’re to wait some time till we can head up to the conference floor for another round of COVID testing. I’m so pleased to see again medical staff with whom I hadn’t even been close. They seem so pleased to see me, too. I'm pleased to meet in person our new Peace Corps Medical Officers, too!

Back in my hotel room, I put on my good shoes to replace my hiking boots and wear my black mask from Singapore. Then I head back to the conference center on the top floor for official opening remarks. There are some introductory health and safety sessions. I journal that afternoon of our situation, “Having a vibe like both PST and Final Center Days conferences at the same time, Eric and me, alongside 23 M3Is.”

Swear-In

By intros’ conclusion, it’s time for a ceremony that I quickly realize is what I think it is. Our Country Director directs my fellow evacuee and to the front. I'm glad to have been wearing the very same shirt I wore when I first swore in three years ago.

In front of the room, before our audience of Trainees, our Country Director hands us new certificates. We raise our right hands. We repeat after her. This is surreal.

Sure enough, we're sworn in. Two newsgroups interview us, GoGo Mongolia and TenGer TV. I describe in English my mother’s story that brought me here. I tell the reporters about my time teaching at МУИС /MUIS/ in Erdenet and in the orphanage.

That night, I locate in my luggage my copies of my original Swear-In documents. I really am a Peace Corps Volunteer again. My re-education begins.

In my next tale, I’ll take you through my first days back in Mongolia.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

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