Hi guys,
I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been really busy. I've been in Washington DC since September enjoying all the inside the beltway intrigue and "what do you do?" conversation starters. Not quite. It was a little rough settling in, but now I share a two bedroom apartment with a middle-aged Tunisian man who is rarely at home. Thanks Craig's List!
Anyway, I also have a job working for a large-ish international development company. Several people (AKA my mom) have suggested that I restart my blog. I won't be able to write too much about work, but I will try and fill you in on what I'm up to in our (maybe not your) nation's capital. Highlights so far include mastering the mail merge and lots of pub quizzes. Please send a link to the blog to anyone you think may be interested in Mongolia or what it's like to live in DC. More soon.
PS. Please read down to "Almost Heaven" for a slice of slice of life inspired by someone else's video blog post. Expect a lot more videos.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Almost Heaven
When we would all meet up in UB to A) resupply, B) eat pizza, C) check on the possibility of a medevac to Thailand, D) fraternize with tourists, or E) all of the above, nights often ended with a trip to the Apollon karaoke bar on Peace Avenue. After some momentary attempted disambiguation, we would descend the precarious staircase and traverse the maze-like catacombs that led to one of many private rooms where we could indulge our need for American music and, not to mention, beer and cheap vodka.
The bar had obviously purchased the equipment and song book from Korea or China and the choices ranged from standards like Guns and Roses and Bon Jovi to bad Europop that Mongols would insist we should already know all the words to (because it was in English). One song in particular was a crowd favorite, because it was good for a sing-along and we often got the feeling after being in the city, or on the road, too long that we should have been home yesterday...yesterdaaay. I am writing, of course, about Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.
This choice of crowd pleaser would probably amuse and confuse all of those who weren't going through the same experience we were, especially those who had already been born when the song was first recorded which most most of us had not. No matter. Just being in a room full of people who all spoke English and knew (more or less) exactly what you were going through was enough to inspire a new found sense of common cause and (ahem) camaraderie that none of us had known before or might know again. And all of this because of a 3:00 minute song written about a place most of us had never been.
This post may be one of the worst examples of "you had to be there", but just try and picture a roomful of freshly-showered or still dirty from the country Peace Corps volunteers huddled in a basement barroom belting out a song released in 1971 and understanding exactly what it meant and you may know what it was like to be there then.
To help you along, here is the original and a couple examples of just what this song has meant to people from Jamaica to Japan.
I took my first trip to West Virginia last week when I went to Harper's Ferry with my friend Aaron. I didn't know exactly how to express the strange sense of kinship I felt standing under the Blue Ridge Mountains and over the Shenandoah River, so I described most things I saw as "neat". These words should get me at least part of the way, but as they say...you really had to be there.
The bar had obviously purchased the equipment and song book from Korea or China and the choices ranged from standards like Guns and Roses and Bon Jovi to bad Europop that Mongols would insist we should already know all the words to (because it was in English). One song in particular was a crowd favorite, because it was good for a sing-along and we often got the feeling after being in the city, or on the road, too long that we should have been home yesterday...yesterdaaay. I am writing, of course, about Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.
This choice of crowd pleaser would probably amuse and confuse all of those who weren't going through the same experience we were, especially those who had already been born when the song was first recorded which most most of us had not. No matter. Just being in a room full of people who all spoke English and knew (more or less) exactly what you were going through was enough to inspire a new found sense of common cause and (ahem) camaraderie that none of us had known before or might know again. And all of this because of a 3:00 minute song written about a place most of us had never been.
This post may be one of the worst examples of "you had to be there", but just try and picture a roomful of freshly-showered or still dirty from the country Peace Corps volunteers huddled in a basement barroom belting out a song released in 1971 and understanding exactly what it meant and you may know what it was like to be there then.
To help you along, here is the original and a couple examples of just what this song has meant to people from Jamaica to Japan.
I took my first trip to West Virginia last week when I went to Harper's Ferry with my friend Aaron. I didn't know exactly how to express the strange sense of kinship I felt standing under the Blue Ridge Mountains and over the Shenandoah River, so I described most things I saw as "neat". These words should get me at least part of the way, but as they say...you really had to be there.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
August and Everything After
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This will be the official last post of my blog. I know I’ve been talking about this for a while, but the blog will soon be turned into a book. My brother was kind, and patient, enough to do the heavy lifting and now I have to send him the final edits. If you’re reading the book, thanks for making it this far. Or, if you just flipped to the back to see who did it, bad mystery reader. Bad. It makes more sense if you begin at the beginning. Thanks again for coming with me on this journey. Enjoy the book and if you think you’re doing something important, tell the world about it. You never know who’ll listen.
Peace Out,
John “Steel” Kinsella
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sweet Sorrow
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Soon after my dad left I traveled up to Sukhbaatar soum in Selenge aimag near the Russian border to help with the M18 business volunteer's final project. They did a business seminar similar to the one we did our first summer in the country. I was able to give them some useful tips on their presentations and the seminar went well.
After leaving Sukhbaatar, I went back to Arkhangai for my last week at site. I thought it would be painful, but I didn't know the half of it. I somehow caught viral tonsillitis that lasted 7 days. I couldn't really eat or drink anything all week. I did manage to lose a few pounds, so it wasn't all bad. There were some going away parties, but all my packing and crying was confined to my last night there. Saying goodbye to Nasaa was the hardest part and I had to do it all over again on the phone a little while ago. I'm not sure if we'll see each other again, but being with her was a great experience. Parting is such...
Writing this blog over the past 27 months has been an experience in itself. I hope it's been as enjoyable for you read as it was to write. I always enjoyed reading your comments and emails of support, but honestly I'd have kept it up even if I knew no one was reading it except my mom...hi mom. Once I get home I plan to turn the blog into a book using software from Blurb. I'll post some late updates once I get home too. I have a one night layover in Beijing and I'll be home the night of the 21st after being away from the states for 27 months. As for right now, I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Metropolis
Anyway, keep reading down for two more new posts and check back later to hear stories from my dad's trip. Believe me. There are plenty.
Dude, you're getting a deel
Nasaa's friend, who also made my last deel, was able to have it ready in time for Naadam. I got a new hat to go with it, and yes, Mongols do where cowboy hats as well as fedoras and sometimes baseball caps with deels. Naadam itself was typically sedate. There was a group of fans watching all the wresting and the end of horse races, but I didn't even see any archery. I did get some pictures of gar shagai where men flick sheep ankle bones and try to knock over tiles across a small playing field. All in all, I wore my deel for a few hours the first day. Oh well, there's always Halloween.
You Tube
So, I bought the last bus ticket, told Nasaa and my office that I'd be away for a week, packed a bag, and thought about buoyancy. After a 12 hour drive to UB, a night on a friend's floor, and another 7 hour drive to Erdenet, I was in the market haggling over the price of inner tubes. We gathered supplies - beer - and drove to the soum, home to Colin one of the trip's architects, that would be our embarkation point. We camped next Colin's ger and began inflating the tubes the next day. One Mongol, who had completed a similar trip from upstream on the same river, would accompany us. He had secured three huge tractor tires which we would use to make a raft. Check out the pictures.
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