Food (khool)

Although I expected Mongolian food to be challenging, I figured if I came with the proper attitude I'd be fine. Boy did I overestimate my abilities. The first Mongolian dish I tried was banshtai shol, on the theory that I never met a dumpling I didnt like. The wrapper was fine, but the meat filling was so muttony-tasting, fatty and grainy that I ended up just eating the wrappers and leaving the little meatballs floating forlornly in the broth. My next attempt, at the recommendation of my lunch companion, was rolled fish (perch? pike? carp? Siberian salmon? The menu didn't specify). Anyhow, it was too weird for me to eat. So then I tried "fast food." That was a little scary, because the fast part of it is that all the ingredients are already cooked and sitting out, uncovered, in the kitchen. I watched in wonder as the worker took that previously-fried egg, previously cooked meat, and a scoop of rice and slapped them all on my plate. McDonalds could learn a thing or two.

Next strategy: cooking at home. Great idea, except for two problems. First, I can't read the labels on any of the signs, cans or jars. But never mind, I know what cabbage, carrots, leeks and garlic look like. I even found what appeared to be wild cranberries that must have come from the country side. (A treat for an Alaskan who hasn't found any wild cranberries in years).

Mercury market, my vegetable heaven. Great for meats and cheeses, too.

But the second problem was more serious-- no spices. Mongolians don't appear to use any spices, herbs or seasonings in their food (unless you count "lard" as a seasoning), and those things therefore are not for sale, even at the "tourist" stores. Thomas is sending me an emergency spice package. Until it arrives, I guess I'll have to resort to eating at the foreign food restaurants, of which there are many (Indian, pizza, German, French). But you pay tourist prices!

First Impressions

I can highly recommend October in Ulaanbaatar. The weather is mild (warmer than Anchorage), and the days are still reasonably long.

The city strikes me as not unlike many urban areas in the developing world. Some of the buildings and squares are quite beautiful and stately, or newly built and modern. These typically are flanked by other buildings in ruins (no windows, walls collapsed). Many "parking lots" consist of dirt and rubble, and "sidewalks" feature uncovered manholes, mysterious ditches, and other random obstacles (this is where experience as a trail runner comes in handy--gotta watch your feet at all times).

The traffic is Darwinian. Only the fittest survive as small cars try to avoid being hit by SUVs, and pedestrians try to avoid being hit by cars. As a courtesy, some drivers will honk at you as they blast through the red light. Luckily for me, the locals have a highly developed sense of when to cross and when it is too dangerous. I wait until a crowd has formed and cross with the group. This makes me feel like a caribou hoping not to get picked off by a wolf.

Because of the traffic, a brown haze hangs in the air at morning and evening rush hour. And they tell me that this is the time when the air quality is good. Hmmm.

On the plus side, commerce bustles, everyone is dressed in the latest fashions, there are restaurants and banks on every block, and espresso is an integral part of the scene (some of it's even good). I lucked into an apartment with high ceilings and lots of windows for sunshine. It is about a ten minute walk to work (less if it's not rush hour).