The Countryside and Self

"Only the modern city offers the mind a field in which it can become aware of itself."
-Mr. Hegel

Ran across this quotation (in the Myth of Sisyphus) while I was in the complete opposite of the modern city: the Mongolian countryside. A number of other quotations and ideas sprang to mind which seemed to justify Hegel's position:

1) Heidegger's idea of Dasein. A large part of our existence, (indeed most of it) is spent doing "tasks": laundry, dishes, paperwork, etc. When doing these "tasks" we usually aren't reflecting on the task, rather we are "in" the "task". For example, if we are mopping, we are considering things like the length of the mop, size of the floor, condition of the mop water, etc. We see the mop as a tool used to complete the task and don't ask ourselves metaphysical questions about the mop like: what is the essence of a mop? In the countryside I observed plenty of this form of Dasein. People milking goats, boiling milk, chopping wood, gathering dung, etc. Completely absorbed in their tasks, unaware of their "selves". In the city, nearly every task that I observed in the countryside is done by someone else, somewhere else, allowing more time for contemplation/reflection. [Unrelated note: potential definition of tourism: "observing Dasein"?]

2) Going to combine similar ideas from Goedel, Escher, Bach and Sartre here: other people are essential in creating the "self". Our identity is created (mostly or completely) via our interactions with others: someone tells us that we have x quality, y talent, or z characteristic. Through these interactions we observe others and our own reactions and come to see patterns of behavior. The number of varied encounters, experiences, and opinions that one can gather are limited in the countryside where you will likely see the same 10 (or fewer) people for months at a time. An obvious contrast with city life where, if only for work and the acquisition of daily needs one interacts with a large number of people and is constantly meeting new people.

3) On a similar theme, a Wilde quotation will suffice:

"My dear boy," said Lord Henry, smiling "anybody can be good in the country. There are no temptations there. That is the reason why people who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized. Civilization is not by any means an easy thing to attain to. There are only two ways by which man can reach it. One is by being cultured, the other by being corrupt. Country people have no opportunity of being either, so they stagnate."

While perhaps a bit harsh and obviously exaggerated, the point is that, from the limited number of people with whom one can interact arises a limited number of experiences and thus decision making both of which help create the "self".

4) One can't leave out Ferdinand Toennies in a discussion like this. The Gemeinschaft/Gesellschaft distinction allows for the individuation of the self which arises from awareness of the self in the first place.

The distinction between the city and country is quickly blurring even here. A perfect example is the ger-dwelling family in my yard. In order to be with their children during the school year they move their ger to Bayankhongor. As soon as school is over it's back to the countryside, allowing them time in both spheres. This distinction is also relativistic. Take for example the UB-dweller I met recently who considers Bayankhongor to be "countryside". Or, from the countryside dweller's perspective: usually three or four families live relatively close to each other. This group of usually three or four gers is called: a city.

The Perfect Instrument and its Related History in Mongolia

I've been teaching "togoldor xuur" (pronounced like the following English words in succession: toggle - door - whore) i.e. piano at the local children's theater lately and have been working on my Mongolian music vocabulary as a result. I discovered this morning while studying some root words that "togs", the root of the word "togoldor" means perfect/complete and the word "togoldor" used alone has acquired the same meaning. "Xuur" traditional meant a two stringed instrument but is used in combination with a number of prefix words to name a number of other instruments. The idea that the word for piano is "the perfect/complete instrument" juxtaposed with the generally neglected state that most of these instruments are in made me wonder how this instrument got its name...

Classical music really wasn't around Mongolia before the 1920's. During that time Mongolia, with the assistance of Russia, drove Chinese troops out of the country. After the successful revolution the Russians didn't leave. In fact they did the opposite of leaving: they organized the government and infrastructure of the country, implemented a public education system, sought to get rid of organized religion, among other things. Because of all these reforms UB (the capital) grew enough to allow an entertainment and arts culture to develop. The Russian residents had an opera/ballet house, symphony orchestra hall, and other cultural building constructed. And with them came, naturally, the neccessary instruments.

Seems to me that this must be where the instrument got its name: they certainly weren't around before that time. Perhaps someone reading this that knows more about the Russian side of the story can inform us on this.

When the Russians left in the late 80's/early 90's they left their instruments behind, but without the educational infrastructure to support it. As a result many of these things fell into disrepair: I cite the requisite broken down piano in every soum (village) center (see also the blogs about trying to get the piano here in Bayankhongor ready for last May's concert). Another example: one of my piano students studies music at the national school of music. Her piano teacher studied...in Russia of course.

When we played the classical music concert this May it was the first classical music experience for many in the audience. Talking to some of Leslie's counterparts at the theater it seems that Mongolians, in general (dare I use such terminology!?) dislike or are indifferent to classical music. And unsurprisingly so! Imagine Mongolians running the States for about 60 years and bringing with them their traditional music. While it would certainly get some attention from citizens, it probably wouldn't be on the top 10 list. Similar deal here it seems.

Need not be this way. And to some extent, it isn't. The opera and ballet company is still performing though orchestra hall was burned in the July 2008 riots (what does that tell you? A political riot that involves burning orchestra hall...). I think that a lot of the apathy results from unfamiliarity. People simply haven't heard classical music. And if they have it is a small slice of what is out there.

Which leads us back to Bayankhongor and the 15 or so students studying both Mamu Nash Ir (folk songs) and Bach (even someone working on Chopin!):

The only person at the local theater that could theoretically be a piano teacher can't read music (this person hold a Bachelor's degree in music). So, what happens after I leave next year? A serious sustainability issue, that's what happens. My current thought is this: I have a handful of adult students and some very promising teenage students. If they can get far enough in the next year, they could teach after I leave.

In unrelated news the BACC received Wheat Grant funding this week with funds arriving in the back account next week: this means general happiness and lots of work to get done before the grand opening in September.

Camus and Goats

Lest I fail to provide an opportunity for my fellow Bayankhongorians to comment on the excessive citation of awesome French people I will now relate what I did in the countryside for two and a half days. Right.

My family and friends are always talking about going to the countryside and its glories so I will admit that I had high expectations.

Here's the skinny on countryside "activities":

1) People milk animals (twice a day).
Turns out that this is not one of my most impressive skills. I was quickly asked to "go drink some milk tea."

2) People watch TV. But intermittently because they are run on solar power.
It was Naadam in UB when I was in the countryside so guess what we watched? People wrestling. Again, and again...

3) People catch up on news: Bayankhongor happenings, family, the latest terrible that China "sent" here.
At least, that's what I think they talked about.

Since it was one year since I first read The Myth of Sisyphus I thought it would be acceptable to take a break from Goedel, Escher, Bach for a while (sorry Julie). Reading is not terribly commonplace here and is usually associated with EXTREME loneliness or boredom. Needless to say I was asked approximately 629 times, "Are you bored? Do you want to go home? Is everything ok?" etc. Yes, everything is ok, no we can stay here, and no, I'm not bored. In fact, reading by a beautiful and clean river is actually something I enjoy and is not a sign of impending suicide.

Soccer was played (at about 10:30 at night which means we really just kicked a ball around aimlessly and often into the river). No vegetable or fruit was eaten (except maybe my secret stash that I brought along). Gave the family I stayed with pudding and showed them how to make it: the kids ate it up in record time. Jello company: you owe me.

Despite my protests against the thesis that I was bored out of my skull my family insisted that we leave early. Assuming that they weren't happy about this series of events I made them apple crisp with Russian ice cream when we got to Bayankhongor. This seemed to smooth things over a bit. Apple crisp: always a winner.

Check out the pictures for the equivalent of ~95,000 words.

June and promises

Was is really over a month ago since I posted an update? My apologies. Summer is naturally whizzing right along and the list of things I hoped to accomplish lies miserably uncompleted on my serving table with an occasional trip to my rather unused desk.

June can be characterized by: bus trips. My poor sister Nikki visited and saw far too much of this rather unfriendly means of transportation. Upon my third arrival in Bayankhongor in less than 20 days I promised my family that I would not go to the capital again until August, and then by plane (thank you Peace Corps: medical check up and Mid-service training!).

I think I understand now the plaque that my elementary school teacher had on her kitchen wall: "There are three reasons for being a teacher: June, July, and August" (or something close to that, doesn't quite ring right does it?). Indeed, the freedom that summer has provided, while perhaps not as productive as I had hoped is a form of glory.

First off, I get to make my own schedule. No directors, coworkers, etc telling me that I will teach so and so at this certain time. Summer here means: evacuate the cities for the countryside and fewer people means fewer requests to do this that and the other things (namely, teaching English). Strangely, piano students are popping out of the woodwork and I can't say no to them without killing part of my soul. Only teaching one class of English (only two people, terribly manageable).

Besides those few obligations I am practicing up a storm at the piano/keyboard, cooking, and trying to study Mongolian on a daily basis. Also playing Phase Ten dice with my 11 year old brother who beats me about 99% of the time.

I have a few stories in the bag but need to run and teach a lesson. Friday-Sunday will be in the countryside with my family.

A full report upon return, I promise.

PS: posted some photos that I discovered gathering dust on my camera. Enjoy!

One year past

We M-19's will have been in Mongolia one year as of June 2, 2009 (I believe that's the day we got in, perhaps it was the first). Because so many things about being in Mongolia seem so normal now, it feels like I've been here much longer than a year. I feel like I've forgotten a lot about life in the States (though I'm sure it will come back to me quickly upon arrival).

My recent travels to Kharkhorin, Khinti, and now, UB have reminded me that I have acclimated more to Bayankhongor than to Mongolia. In Bayankhongor I know where most things can be found, I have friends and family there, and my ger really feels like home. Being away from that feels like starting all over again. Or, at the very least, always feels so temporary and destroys my routines and patterns that I enjoy so much.

This really hit me the other day when I was walking home from the Peace Corps office here in UB. I had just discovered that a concert had been postponed, that our BACC grant will require further revision, and that I will have to come back to this city on the 27th of this month for another concert. Brooding over these things as I crossed a plaza someone decided that they should try to steal my water bottle out of my backpack. They succeeded in knocking it out of my backpack but didn't manage to grab it. It rolled across the plaza with a mumbling American following it. As if that weren't enough, a group of people decided that they would yell out, "Hey, that's mine." Clearly an untruth that I did not really want to deal with.

Made me miss home.

Discussing this feeling of temporality with some other volunteers the comment was made that while at times it certainly does feel as though we have been here forever, we are also always thinking about our close of service. So sometimes we end up in this strange place in between the knowledge that this will most certainly end and the feeling that it has been going on forever.

Second year goes faster say some, slower say others. I can understand where work may feel slower. You know the drill, and perhaps start the countdown school calender. On the other hand since everyday life will certainly feel more routine, time may move faster.

Bayankhongor will get three more volunteers this year, and that should help spice up our lives a bit. May keep us from cynicism or push us over its edge.

My sister Nikki will be here soon and the schedule of events looks something like this:
1) Hang out in UB for a few days and rest.
2) Go to Javkhlant and ride some camels, visit and swim in the beautiful river there.
3) Back to UB and then on to Bayankhongor.
4) Back to UB to greet the new volunteers and do some shopping before Nikki heads home again.

Summer will go by even faster than I thought, I think... Lots of practicing to do before I make grad school recordings sometime in October. Still have some pieces to memorize and Mongolian music to learn for another concert in October (again in UB, please please please let these two events coincide lest I go to that city twice in one month).

Fourteen months to go. My bets are on a fast second year. Will keep you posted.

The second concert

So you may have read Nathan's most recent posting concerning the glorious Bayankhongor Classical music concert. A wild success, wild I tell you.

Rather than rehash what Nathan's dumbfounding writing skills have already entered into the historical record I will write a small review of the concert that recently occurred in Xarxurin (XX) on May 18, 2009.

We (Leslie and I with another volunteer who desired to watch what was about to go down) rolled into town in our van-thingy the day before our concert. Two days were spent in the near-by aimag center trying desperately to get to XX. One day we were thwarted by a closed market, another day by a drunk man who likes to throw glass and call women rather indecent names in Russian.

Putting that all behind us we were off to the theater to rehearse as soon as we arrived in the green and mountainy beauty that is XX. The school brought in their lovely casio with 61 keys (key number 61 unfortunately was out of commission) and no pedal. Once into the theater the school director asks me to take a look at the piano they have. I now know better than to get excited about these offers, alas. Wearing an excited face we go off to the piano room and discover that the piano has ringing keys, keys that don't work, and no functioning pedal. Last predicted tuning: 1980's.

"Workable?"
"Sadly, no."

What do I see when I turn to leave the piano? A 71 key Yamaha! Aha!

"Can we use THIS?"
"Yes you can."

Grand! We drag it onto the stage and begin rehearsal. There are two dilemmas before us.
1) What pieces can we still play from the BH concert now that we have only 71 keys and still no pedal?
2) What......setting....yes, setting... will we use? There are options like dual, strings, drum kits, choirs, and about 200 more.

The first question is easy for my solo works: Baroque or nothing. Turns out that all the vocal pieces are doable. Great. The second question is the really traumatizing one. One is forced to deal with the fact that you are about to claim to be doing a performance of western classical music on an electronic instrument...(At this point if there are any music professors of mine, former or future, reading this, I pray that you turn away, forgive, and forget what was done here).

We settle on the settings and decide that it would be nice to practice a little more but it is far too cold in the theater and it is getting late. So we borrowed the keyboard and planned to take it to the local volunteer's ger. Got it to the school before I decided that I was too ill to continue the preparation festivities and needed a good rest. Knocked myself out with Benedril and drank 3 liters of water.

The Day of the Concert
French toast. coffee. Off to school to practice a bit. Sleep. And it's go time!

We knew that we would be sharing this concert with some performances by the local school kids. Midafternoon we hear that there is a hip-hop-dancing, accordian-playing, energy-healing monk in town who just walked here from the Gobi. What a cool addition to the program! At 5 o'clock about 300 first and second graders flood the theater. Turns out they will be our audience. That changes things just a wee bit. We had 30+ minutes of music which we quickly wittled down to a no-repeats 15 minute set broken into two for attention span reasons. The show begins with singing and dancing, then comes: THE FASHION SHOW. That's correct. Then us. More singing and dancing. MORE FASHION SHOW! Us again. And...FASHION SHOW one more time. No monk. Not sure what happened to him. Perhaps he realized that this was not exactly his venue.

Trauma: childhood arts competition at the county fair. Little Tysen with his adapted version of Grieg's piano concerto crushed by the pink costumed dancing 3rd grader. This time I was able to deal with the situation much better.

Post concert. Everyone in shock. A "I don't think we'll ever see anything like that again" kind of shock.

Concert Tour of sorts

The concert in Bayankhongor with countless frustrations along the way ended up going well. Yeah. Then began the grand plan to take the concert on tour: three cities, one week. We are down to one this week and another sometime this summer. The culprit? Upcoming presidential elections. Which leaves certain people feeling a little frustrated.

Took the bus half way to UB and it killed me. Yanaa (oh dear). Not looking forward to the rest of the busing activity this summer...I knew there was a reason I stayed in BH (Bayankhongor) so much. Can't wait to be back home: building a greenhouse outside my ger with another volunteer, teacher English, German, and piano privately, and getting the BACC ready for the grand opening in September.