tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58475750331855959722024-02-21T10:30:23.602-08:00It's all bueno.@cooperbaltis Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-63313259185369441462013-04-30T00:54:00.001-07:002013-04-30T00:54:24.596-07:00The Metric<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I recently had a piece published in The Metric. (Rest Assured: I Didn't Sleep With Your Mother)<br />
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The story can be found here:<br />
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<a href="http://www.themetric.co.uk/">http://www.themetric.co.uk/</a><br />
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A review of the story by the editors:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />"A love-life life in finances. An unusual premise leads to an extraordinary and heart-wrenching short story. As readers, we are placed in the shoes of the narrator’s recently ex-partner and, in balancing the books on everything from electricity bills to drug habits, we are shown the wasteland of a life post disastrous relationship. Faced with the final sum, a cordial request to pay up, and the narrator’s less-than-thoughtful plans, we can take some small comfort from the title, at least. Baltis’s work is so practical and tragic as to be comic in its narrator’s surprisingly relatable quest to set a price on love."</span><br />
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-87702825469715369242013-04-15T00:55:00.001-07:002013-04-15T00:55:20.093-07:00Rest Assured: I Didn't Sleep With Your Mother<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Had a short story published today in the British journal, The Metric. Check it out.<br />
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<a href="http://www.themetric.co.uk/">http://www.themetric.co.uk/</a><br />
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-69199454542118269992013-04-08T02:22:00.000-07:002013-04-08T02:22:09.702-07:00Waiting out the winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Things are heating up on the steppe. By heating up, I mean it's gone from just below freezing to just above freezing with freezing winds. I'm finishing up my next novel, Endless Knots, and happened to stumble upon some old Mongolian short fiction books printed before the switch over to democracy.<br />
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Nice to read from a real book again. Most the reading I've done over the past two years has been on a Kindle and I forget what real paper feels like. I like the Kindle format, especially for note taking and looking up words, but real paper reminds me of why I started writing in the first place.<br />
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Summer is on the way, which means I need to figure out my residency status for next year. Mongolia one more year, then New York. After that I'm retiring. </div>
Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-10985073709940070922013-01-10T18:39:00.000-08:002013-01-11T20:17:40.150-08:002012 reading list<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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2012 came and went. We survived the Mayan apocalypse and somewhere in there, I was able to read a few books. In order starting in January of 2012:</div>
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We/ Yevgeny Zamyatin<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fahrenheit 451/ Ray Bradbury<o:p></o:p></div>
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Robopocalypse/ Daniel H. Wilson<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga/ Hunter S. Thompson<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lolita/ Vladimir Nabokov <o:p></o:p></div>
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A Visit from the Goon Squad/ Jennifer Egan <o:p></o:p></div>
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A Broom of the System/ David Foster Wallace <o:p></o:p></div>
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Absurdistan/ Gary Sheytenygart <o:p></o:p></div>
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Intimate Glimpses of Mysterious Tibet/ G.E.O. Knight<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Sun Also Rises/ Hemingway<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fiction and the Figures of Life/ William H. Gass<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Art of the Novel/ Milan Kundera<o:p></o:p></div>
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Freedom/ Jonathan Franzen <o:p></o:p></div>
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Alice in Wonderland/ Lewis Carrol<o:p></o:p></div>
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Drown/ Junot Diaz <o:p></o:p></div>
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Rabbit Redux/ John Updike<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bird by Bird/ Anne Lamott<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Last Disco in Outer Mongolia/ Nick Middleton<o:p></o:p></div>
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Self-editing for Fiction writers/ Browne & King<o:p></o:p></div>
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Love in the Time of Cholera/Gabriel Garcia Marquez <o:p></o:p></div>
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How to write a sentence/ Stanley Fish<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break/
Steven Sherrill<o:p></o:p></div>
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Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead/ the Frank Meeink Story as told
to Jody M. Roy<o:p></o:p></div>
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On Writing/ Stephen King<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Power of Habit/ Charles Duhigg<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rabbit is Rich/ John Updike<o:p></o:p></div>
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Biocentrism/ Robert Lanza with Bob Berman<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gone Girl/ Gillian Flynn<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lost at the Con/Bryan Young</div>
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Prince of Tides/ Pat Conroy<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-55722199552114465232012-12-08T21:59:00.001-08:002012-12-08T21:59:05.073-08:00Photo shoot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This week we shot a three minute short penned by Oliver and me including all members of Batbileg's Family (sans crazy Uncle Tumor). The gist of the shot is as follows: the family is getting their photos taken by Chuka (boyfriend of the middle daughter Monkzul). Ariunzul shows up late, her father (Batbileg) strips down to his wrestling outfit, and Rick didn't get the memo that the family WASN'T dressing in traditional clothing. Below are photos from the shoot. The video will be posted shortly (this week!)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOaX56pnaqhxMgc8ZwnZonMvaAlVQOaiA7ROJTbC5jkCyaXsZY5SbAwi28u-6PCu1vdZ3WY3_VXC2goN6BEZrMzBzlefPpur0h3iGr55M5RiIC6d8bHTKd6Z6ILsq4bqWlK9aZCKBvMg/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOaX56pnaqhxMgc8ZwnZonMvaAlVQOaiA7ROJTbC5jkCyaXsZY5SbAwi28u-6PCu1vdZ3WY3_VXC2goN6BEZrMzBzlefPpur0h3iGr55M5RiIC6d8bHTKd6Z6ILsq4bqWlK9aZCKBvMg/s320/IMG_0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan doing his filming thing</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMT25W3Ffiyt61X7_v2Oj1kyjBV6SGfr-NQISfXLbZI9AncohjPhEBKdufW7gQx5-pSWhDzeBK3y5g-19i1UOl5XnI3mn6jHK7Dn-HoeJ24Hl_tILsBYUpuE156qzZvvRNPGtwLcUWcI/s1600/IMG_0004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMT25W3Ffiyt61X7_v2Oj1kyjBV6SGfr-NQISfXLbZI9AncohjPhEBKdufW7gQx5-pSWhDzeBK3y5g-19i1UOl5XnI3mn6jHK7Dn-HoeJ24Hl_tILsBYUpuE156qzZvvRNPGtwLcUWcI/s320/IMG_0004.JPG" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Key, one of the show's producers (and go to guy for EVERYTHING!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFpBlzZgIVFdVh-HPejots5OFX1q1C6G7r3Kmi63awx3Cjnk94lqG40c8eBg1tRwz0kYSlQY4n7mm4Bn6E6Iwt_P622QTpCSZEZ80QRIJNvViSKd4H4G624GFH7GKvlrL0C5zL8bpf_4/s1600/IMG_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFpBlzZgIVFdVh-HPejots5OFX1q1C6G7r3Kmi63awx3Cjnk94lqG40c8eBg1tRwz0kYSlQY4n7mm4Bn6E6Iwt_P622QTpCSZEZ80QRIJNvViSKd4H4G624GFH7GKvlrL0C5zL8bpf_4/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">setting up the shot</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAk7k1nX8ZSROp0LEUi1MXdF5z4YPDKvJc8V8nxcqSSH9T3Ic_EOL1GaBupNXUEpoEpB3bsZPpMwWiXKCFWHuZbU5kXPK1dXBuWSIlxl7XNUzjGhOSLdRnlpUk17cRCkbWY9movqfu_A/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAk7k1nX8ZSROp0LEUi1MXdF5z4YPDKvJc8V8nxcqSSH9T3Ic_EOL1GaBupNXUEpoEpB3bsZPpMwWiXKCFWHuZbU5kXPK1dXBuWSIlxl7XNUzjGhOSLdRnlpUk17cRCkbWY9movqfu_A/s320/IMG_0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuul and Selenge. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLGUYIKYQqysL5FiopBOcFSrlSixM9bAK0_ro-IwQumX6W21jVCUmEoZjovftD16XaQfLCC9ExPQQuJjep7xAe0Wf1ZmMQ8E2evdZ5yF5ASVdVTJXQkUBu6VOCbajDYFa5ZRtvCugslA/s1600/IMG_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLGUYIKYQqysL5FiopBOcFSrlSixM9bAK0_ro-IwQumX6W21jVCUmEoZjovftD16XaQfLCC9ExPQQuJjep7xAe0Wf1ZmMQ8E2evdZ5yF5ASVdVTJXQkUBu6VOCbajDYFa5ZRtvCugslA/s320/IMG_0011.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuka and Monkzul</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4MCVQc8nWS9kTlqHBJpT1W0suJ5ay-Zw_RVlTEALU-l6vElaCRojjqsKqvCjRUzZ83K3wJWwMtwo7z_uRa2eyT3NdqeaCY2Ih4YTe_rbi_i0m4VPiFCFIxZcI-Kx0iUSY6SKtbYSFXg/s1600/IMG_0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4MCVQc8nWS9kTlqHBJpT1W0suJ5ay-Zw_RVlTEALU-l6vElaCRojjqsKqvCjRUzZ83K3wJWwMtwo7z_uRa2eyT3NdqeaCY2Ih4YTe_rbi_i0m4VPiFCFIxZcI-Kx0iUSY6SKtbYSFXg/s320/IMG_0013.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The children of the family and one boyfriend with silver hair</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlDZcq2jdADOQSXXojDWu3AXoMKi0q8cSvHQbviYMuqItT6ZhRNr0JlSXO_ZvcaXnfNVGsev2qJlDqrqEOHBShtBFGi9uPeldTLV9rmiFiRUBpDOcounMLRPQASDp2Ktv2YxLJcmIb6w/s1600/IMG_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlDZcq2jdADOQSXXojDWu3AXoMKi0q8cSvHQbviYMuqItT6ZhRNr0JlSXO_ZvcaXnfNVGsev2qJlDqrqEOHBShtBFGi9uPeldTLV9rmiFiRUBpDOcounMLRPQASDp2Ktv2YxLJcmIb6w/s320/IMG_0015.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuka and me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQroTRIdzU8bgaHlsfnjNhcYDO_nttNJ8umpx0kaxmhKqp01cZmZgUb0N_tGTYr6xNgsmAwac6PRQX7C5jzqKDalg-m9qNUaciwvE9whfJEXIgm3mS8LM0LFJkOdsYm49IXwUlmrz2pQ/s1600/IMG_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQroTRIdzU8bgaHlsfnjNhcYDO_nttNJ8umpx0kaxmhKqp01cZmZgUb0N_tGTYr6xNgsmAwac6PRQX7C5jzqKDalg-m9qNUaciwvE9whfJEXIgm3mS8LM0LFJkOdsYm49IXwUlmrz2pQ/s320/IMG_0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lining up</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNuoHtfhJML5Se2QFifj2xkLHHPWALoxJPSI4QdhQapUmE5083fBL7JjKxFblgKOllMAxKBxQxLwZi4f8MlRBUOKlmKPrfPXrwfOzMIzCKzW2SIUpXXiFDYDNXeUth_KCbPSnA1tTx98/s1600/IMG_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNuoHtfhJML5Se2QFifj2xkLHHPWALoxJPSI4QdhQapUmE5083fBL7JjKxFblgKOllMAxKBxQxLwZi4f8MlRBUOKlmKPrfPXrwfOzMIzCKzW2SIUpXXiFDYDNXeUth_KCbPSnA1tTx98/s320/IMG_0017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our director</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBJ8zsnZODttSbAcy-wiqbYgwe5z-WFHYdPZS5y2wlB6caZblNUwJgOe-UaL-WCWjywkPUnRKEcrcLaoXqRiCaoxNza39i1XmBHR2Lm84cqXKMNGRUm1h0OFnyqWH7oHRwhwZhfzDJic/s1600/IMG_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBJ8zsnZODttSbAcy-wiqbYgwe5z-WFHYdPZS5y2wlB6caZblNUwJgOe-UaL-WCWjywkPUnRKEcrcLaoXqRiCaoxNza39i1XmBHR2Lm84cqXKMNGRUm1h0OFnyqWH7oHRwhwZhfzDJic/s320/IMG_0018.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selenge and me at our interview session at Cafe 9</td></tr>
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-32624213112634875302012-12-01T20:24:00.000-08:002012-12-01T20:24:10.519-08:00Batbileg's Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Things are happening rapidly.<br />
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The last two weeks have been met with a quick shoot at a mall behind Blue Sky Tower as well as the solidification of filming locations and production details. It's official, Batbileg's Family will broadcast on Mongol HD starting February 1st 2013! Below is our first cast photo, as well as a quick shot Selenge and I took last Sunday. Good job to our producers at MGM, who have been working their tails off to get this show out as soon as possible.<br />
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More updates coming this week as I'm finally in the world of smart phones... which should prove interesting!<br />
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-76847976536545502332012-11-18T00:13:00.001-08:002012-11-18T00:13:27.269-08:00Up and away: Mongolia’s first sitcom and its origins<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Published November 19th in the UB Post </div>
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Mongolia’s first sitcom is coming faster than winter. The
sitcom, Batbileg’s Family, will be a single camera styled television show based
heavily on tried and true sitcom format America has been broadcasting since the
1950s. It will be an interesting mix of movie cinematography and mockumentary
styled interviews. In last week’s installment, I spoke of the finer details
involved with creating the sitcom (i.e. chicken suits) and promised to keep everyone updated regarding the sitcom’s progress. This installment will
do just that, as well as dig deeper into how the sitcom came about.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oliver Claycamp, the sitcom’s head writer, originally
developed the idea earlier this year. Growing tired of Mongolian television and
its lack of comedy, as well as it import of Korean shows and bad overdubbing of
western shows, Oliver proposed a question: Why doesn’t Mongolia have its own
sitcom? Mongolians watch plenty of television and are highly influenced by
Western programming, from music to cinema. So, why not write the first
Mongolian sitcom? Why not create a wholesome family show and film it in a style
that has rarely been seen on television here?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oliver first proposed to me the idea of the sitcom through a
series of text messages. By this point in our friendship, we’d proposed so many
strange writing ideas to each other I was sure he was playing a joke on me.
Regardless, I readily agreed for two reasons. One, I have a problem saying no
to people especially involving creative endeavors. No sense in missing an
opportunity to try something new. Two, I was intrigued. Was it possible? Could
two American writers pull it off? Who would produce it? Could we find an
American to act in it? When would we actually start filming it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The answers came over the following months. Yes, it was
possible. Yes, two Americans could pull it off with the help of a clever
Mongolian woman, Zola, Oliver’s wife, our translator and go-to-guru for
culturally relevant jokes. Mongol Grand
Media, a new production company setting a new standard for Mongolian media
productions would produce it. Strangely, I would end up acting in it playing
the American character, Rick, which wasn’t the original plan but since feels
like it has been the whole time. And for the final answer, December will be the
month it starts filming. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This week MGM studios have seen many things: from countless
sponsor meetings to heated discussions regarding a three minute episode to
better advertise the show. Originally, Joon Wook Kim, our Korean director,
wanted something Simpsonsesque, an opener involving an extended action shot
that details the shows youngest character, a 10 year old boy named Batta,
moving through the family’s home and weaving in and out of everyone’s business.
Oliver wanted to film an actual scene from the show, to show the interview
style as well as the settings and theme. After a long discussion involving
Oliver, myself, the executives producers, Joon Wook Kim, and phone calls to Dan
Peters, our lead cameraman/go to guy for anything and everything technical in
the show, a decision was reached: the three minute episode would be a quick storyline
in which the family is attempting to take a portrait at a local photo studio. The
shoot is planned for the following weekend. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Saturday also saw the first official video shoot for the
sitcom. In the scene, Rick, the American character in the show, sits in an
abandoned playground as the snow falls round him. He comments on the coldness
of the weather and how he is feeling lonely. His phone rings and he suddenly
grows excited that someone is calling him. He takes the call only to tell the
person on the phone that he is busy and that he can’t be bothered. The short can
be found via Youtube: Lonely Rick. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On Sunday we shot our first commercial featuring members of
the sitcom. The commercial, for the Niislel gym near Zaisan, features a long
shot of the gym, the people working out there, and a quick cameo by Rick who’s
running on a treadmill when he becomes distracted by the pretty girl running
next to him. The commercial also features Mongolian top model Temka, pumping
iron and looking fierce. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Progress can come in different spurts. It can be fast,
nearly blinding, and seem to appear out of nowhere and it can be slow, molasses
slow, with no end in sight. Batbileg’s Family falls into the former category.
Since first hooking up with MGM in September, the show has barreled towards it
filming date. With the official filming date taking place this next week, the
cast nearly solidified, and all the pieces falling into place, it’s starting to
feel as real as the first mockumentary of a fictional Mongolian family can
possibly feel. Excitement is in the air, and history is soon to be made. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-40858461256259537382012-11-17T23:44:00.001-08:002012-11-17T23:44:37.371-08:00First short from the sitcom Batbileg's Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-79284237453899815072012-11-12T18:41:00.000-08:002012-11-12T18:41:02.259-08:00A French designer, chicken suits, and Mongolia’s first sitcom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“We need chicken suits,” Oliver says to Jesse, the French designer for Mongol Grand Media’s new Mongolian sitcom.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Chicken costumes?” Jesse asks. He looks at us suspiciously, as if we are putting him on. We had just requested a deel made out of camouflage material. He has reason to be suspicious.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yea. Two. We need two.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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So goes a normal conversation at MGM’s newly founded studio in the heart of Ulaanbaatar. Over the course of the year, Oliver Claycamp and I have been working on a sitcom, but not just any sitcom, we have been tediously scripting out Mongolia’s very first sitcom. The sitcom will be filmed in a single camera mockumentary style, and if all goes according to plan, filming should start at the beginning of December. Until that time, I will be documenting for my blog and the UB Post the more interesting happenings at the office, ranging from issues of translations to discussions on theme music for the show. It’s a truly international effort, and something that has a good chance of spreading further than Mongolia’s landlocked borders.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Translation. Translation and finding those who can do it quickly has become somewhat of the lifeblood of our office. The show’s director will be a Korean man who speaks Mongolian, the actors will all be Mongolian, the foreign actors (including myself—more on this later) will speak Mongolian in the show, the producers speak Mongolian, English and Korean, Oliver speaks Mongolian, I’m studying Mongolian, the Frenchman speaks English, and thus any discussion is usually translated at least once depending on who’s in the room. The script is also translated multiple times, from English to Mongolian then finally to Korean for the director, who while fluent in Mongolian, has trouble reading Cyrillic. We also plan to translate the script into Chinese at a later time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A normal day for me: I greet Joon Wook Kim, the Korean director, who tells me something in Korean-accented Mongolian, which I invariably don’t understand, which he then tells to Oliver or Key for translation(the executive producer), who then relay the message to me, after which I reply, and the translation loop continues until the conversation is over. As frustrating as this sounds, it’s actually quite smooth and there has yet to be any real translation problems. Everyone knows the immensity of our task, and the goal of quality and good programming seem to trump any issues of interpretation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That brings me to another thing: jokes that are lost in translation. Luckily, Oliver’s wife Zola has become somewhat of our guru on jokes. Not only does she translate the scripts, she also enhances our jokes and gives us a truly local spin on the various dilemmas we cook up. I’ve even left out good portions of scenes for the pieces I write just to get her take on it. Her script translations and influence are vital to our finished product.<o:p></o:p></div>
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American humor can be sarcastic, it can be slapstick and it can be based entirely on wordplay. It runs the smorgasbord of English communication and has huge regional variations. For writer’s writing to a foreign audience, some of these types of jokes don’t work and have to be changed to make sense. While it’s always sad seeing a joke go, the bigger picture is what’s really important here, and it’s the bigger picture that continues to propel this project further.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s always something happening at the studio, at least after the auditions start. From a rapping Mongolian child to a gorgeous model singing a popular English song, people have poured into the studio to audition for roles. Some characters have been cast, including the characters Ariunzul, a twenty-something woman dating a foreigner, Batbileg, her father, and Javzmaa, her stepmother, and Tumor, the obligatory crazy uncle. The search continues for Monkhzul, the sixteen year old daughter obsessed with Korean culture, and Batta, the youngest actor in the show who plays a clever child always on the cusp of getting himself or someone else into trouble.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then there’s Rick. In the show, Rick is an American man dating a Mongolian woman (Ariunzul). Originally, Rick was supposed to be played by another foreigner. Then, a month or so ago, I got a call from Oliver.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The guy playing Rick is out,” he said. He was at the studio and our producers were probably huddled around him, or at least in my mind they were.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Maybe we can get my friend Dan,” I suggested.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“They’re saying maybe you can do it,” Oliver said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No way, I’ll talk to Dan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Ok, think about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s hard to describe how strange it is to write dialogue for a character for a few months then get the offer to play that character. It definitely makes you question future ideas involving that character, especially now that you have the choice whether to be the actor or not. But I thought about it, and decided to take the role. After all, time was running out and the show was nearing production. Plus, I had a general sense of what was going on at all times due to my role as the show’s co-writer. A month ago I became Rick and a month from now I will play Rick on television. Still strange to write and even stranger to say.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Dan, the friend I mentioned earlier, will also have a role in the show. He will play Steve, Rick’s friend whom he occasionally calls. So picture this: Rick is having some dilemma and to get advice he calls Steve, who is always doing something wacky (which is very easy to do in a city as diverse as UB). They will speak only Mongolian to one another, bad Mongolian I might add, and the subtitles will be in English. The sense of irony is powerful here: two Americans speaking Mongolian to one another while they could be speaking English. Dan, an Afghanistan war veteran and documentary filmmaker, will also help with filming, post production, and everything in between. The staff diversity of the show continues to expand as we near production.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The coming week will see many things, including the recording of a theme song, which I wrote and someone else will perform, and more auditions to find our final two main characters. A ten minute mini-episode will be written and should be filmed soon and an advertisement campaign will move into its final stages of preparation. Mongolian’s first sitcom, which has yet to be named but will likely be Batbileg’s Family, is on its way to television history. As the snow settles and the temperature plummets, the cast, crew, and producers at MGM are going into overdrive in preparation for our winter debut.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-32044910239125047582012-11-12T18:38:00.000-08:002012-11-13T18:56:17.916-08:00Halloween time!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Halloween in Mongolia is always interesting. </div>
Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-18233173186517066272012-10-03T17:22:00.000-07:002012-10-03T17:22:03.751-07:00British Man Becomes a Mongolian Shaman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Paul Diamond, a wandering shaman friend of mine recently became a shaman in the Mongolian tradition. More details to follow, or not, as the pictures tell the story. Photos by Dan Peters</div>
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Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-35927596100306063092012-09-06T02:12:00.000-07:002012-09-06T02:12:51.821-07:00The center of a ger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>The center of a ger<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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By Cooper Baltis<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><i> Published September 4th in the UB Post</i></o:p></div>
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Life in a Mongolian ger revolves around a wrought iron
stove. It’s the original central heating that doubles as a device in which
everything is cooked, boiled, steamed, fried, simmered, and cleaned. It is
invariably rusty, stained from daily usage and inlayed with endless knot
regalia. It is crucial and strikingly useful. It is the center of the ger and
the single most used item in the countryside. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Mongolian women spend most of their day around the stove.
They begin their mornings by boiling water. Once the water is boiled, milk and
tea is added to the boiling pot. A large ladle hanging from a chord near the
stove is used to mix the milk and water together. A pinch of salt is mixed into
the pot and an old saucepan is used to strain the milk tea into a pot. The
nozzle of the tea pot is used to transfer the milk tea into a large thermos.
The thermos is generally a bright color, the front of which is decorated by a
floral pattern.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The thermos of milk tea is brought to a small table close to
the back of the ger. It is set on the table next to a plastic bowl filled with
bootsog, a fried pastry cut into small squares. The man of the ger enters and
sits down on a stool next to the table. He greets his wife and daughters with a
nod. His hands are muddy and slightly bloody from pulling a large thorn out of
the hooves of one of his sheep. He reaches for the milk tea and pours it into a
bowl. He finishes the tea quickly. Ochre finger prints remain on the white
bowl. He takes one bootsog, puts it in the front pocket of his shirt, and
leaves the ger.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The oldest daughter takes the pot used to boil the milk tea
outside the ger. She uses an old rag to clean the milky residue off the side of
the pot. She finishes and scoops water out of a plastic container into the pot.
The pot is brought back into the ger and set on the stove. The middle daughter
adds small chunks of wood into the stove. She blows air inside the stove using
a hollow rod and listens for the crackling sound of the embers. While all this
happens, the mother sits on her bed, combing the hair of the youngest daughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The water begins to boil on the stove. The oldest daughter
pours most of the hot water into a metal wash bin. With the help of her sister,
she carries the wash bin outside. The middle sister returns to the ger and
grabs a sack of clothing out of a plastic bucket. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The mother sets her youngest daughter on the bed and picks
up two small orange stools. She turns one of the stools upside down near the
stove. She takes the pot full of water off the stove and balances it between
the legs of the overturned stool. The mother sits on the other stool and starts
using the hot water to wash dishes. The youngest daughter wanders outside to
find her sisters.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She finds her sisters sitting around the wash bin on their
heels. Soap suds splash out of the bin. The oldest sister scrubs a pair of
jeans with her bare knuckles. The middle sister reaches for the youngest and
tickles her. The youngest protests and runs back into the ger.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The youngest daughter pays little attention to the small
handheld iron her mother has now set on top of the stove. The youngest runs to
the bed and pulls a pack of playing cards out from beneath the mattress. As she
plays, the middle daughter enters the ger and hands her mother a collared
t-shirt. Using a large wooden cutting board, the mother begins to iron the
collar of shirt with the freshly heated iron that had been sitting on the
stove. As she runs the iron across the shirt, steam rises into the ger. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the collar is ironed, more wood is added to the stove.
The oldest daughter takes a cart to the nearby river to retrieve water. The
middle daughter and the mother begin cutting slices of kneaded flour into
noodles. They sit around the cutting board next to the stove. The youngest
daughter waddles by with a candy wrapper hanging out of her mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oil is rubbed onto the noodles and they are cast into a
large pot on top of the stove. As the noodles boil, the middle daughter quickly
cuts a few slivers off a hunk of meat of a carcass they had been storing
outside in their shed. She cuts quickly, precisely, dicing the meat into little
square-shaped pieces. The meat is added to the pot and oily bubbles appear on
top of the water. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The oldest daughter returns with a barrel of water just in
time for lunch. A boy with a cast on his arm from a nearby ger helps her lift
the barrel and place it next to the front door. They eat the soup and the boy
leaves as quickly as he came. The oldest daughter adds water to the pot and
more wood to the stove. As the water boils, she uses butter knife to scrape
dirt from under her nails. She drops the bowls used for lunch into the water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dishes are clean and a lull settles over the ger. The
youngest and middle daughters doze off. The mother and oldest daughter retrieve
a large hunk of fat and begin slicing it into manageable chunks. A different
pot is brought in from outside. The bottom of the pot is charred from years of
usage. The middle daughter wakes up and starts sweeping the ger. While the fat
boils on the stove, the oldest daughter kneads a large hunk of dough. With
little pinches, the mother separates the dough into a pile on the cutting board.
She drops the dough into the boiling fat on the stove. She comes back after each
piece of dough has turned a golden brown. Using a strainer, she retrieves the
piping hot pieces and deposits them into a large bucket. The middle daughter
picks out a fresh bootsog and tosses it into her mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The afternoon progresses in short waves of activity and
rest. More flour is kneaded and torn into tiny circles. Diced meat is added to
the circles and the corners are brought together in a pinch. The dumplings are
arranged on the cutting board until the flour and meat is finished. Outside the
ger, the father and his oldest daughter corral the cows and sheep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A steaming pan is placed into the large pot on the
stove. A splash of water is added and
the mother combs the hair of her youngest daughter until the water is boiling.
She sets the dumpling onto the steaming
tray and once they are steamed, she places them into a large bowl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The father and his oldest daughter enter the ger. Their
pants are dirty with milk stains and animal droppings. They take off their
boots and huddled around the dumplings. The middle daughter pours tea for her
father, mother, and sister. She holds her youngest sister in her lap as they
eat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As night settles, the dumplings are devoured and more milk
tea is boiled on the stove. The outside temperature starts to plummet. The father
brings in a stack of wood and deposits it next to the stove. The family changes
into their sleeping clothes and prepares for bed. The oldest daughter relaxes
on the bed across from their parents. The middle daughter sleeps on the floor. The
mother rises in the middle of the night and sticks a few large pieces of wood
into the stove. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ger is warm and the family rests. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-41698126363262855222012-07-31T22:30:00.000-07:002012-07-31T22:30:37.347-07:00Tyler interview<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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published July 31, 2012 in the UB Post</div>
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Tyler Davis-Mayo, a Sarah Lawrence College graduate,
originally came to Mongolia to continue his study of Shamanism, a path which
started in Nepal. The UB Post sat down with Mayo recently to discuss his path
to Shamanism and any Shamanic activities he has participated in since arriving
in Ulaanbaatar. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>When did your path to
Shamanism begin? <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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It’s hard to say exactly when it began, but there are a few turning
points that stand out, the most notable of which was a long psychological
illness. Many Shamans are called through an illness, either physical or
psychological or both, and this is sometimes identified by another shaman as a
calling. As shamanism in the Western World has been pushed underground and
become less prominent, the calling is rarely identified as such. I was guided
by the spirits through a kind of intuitive call and response to where I am now.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What do you mean by
intuitive call and response?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spirit world, or most worlds that are not physical, do
not have as strong of a duality as the physical world does. In the physical
world, we can kind of map cause and effect to a certain degree. In the realms
of spirit, it doesn’t quite work the same way. In fact, being unsure, not
knowing, doubting, in some way is the access to these realms. You’re never “sure”
in the way that you’re sure that if you have a fire in front of you you’ll be
hot; you can’t be certain in the same
way that a spirit or a deity is communicating with you because it’s exactly in
this space of unknowing that these sort of entities live. It takes a lot of intuition and trust as well
as trial and error to understand this space. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Tell us about what
happened to you in Nepal.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was never sure why I was so drawn to Nepal. As I was
living there, it became clear that the Goddess Kali had called me there and
brought me there. Through listening to her, in this kind of intuitive way, I
was led to meet a few Nepali Shamans and through them I also met a good English
friend who was also a practicing shaman. We met in the same shaman’s house on
the same day asking the same questions. He also has a strong relationship with
Kali so we figured it wasn’t just chance. Together, we took the initiation into
the Nepali shamanic tradition. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tell us about
teaching Shamanism at the Krishnamurti School, Brockwood Park, in England over
the past year.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wasn’t teaching Shamanism, I was teaching about what
Shamanism is. I think Shamanism is something that people are drawn to by
another force and it takes a lot of questioning of one’s self to see if it’s
the right path for them. But it’s important in the Western World to revitalize
this way of seeing the world and interacting with the world in our cultures. One
of the ways in which I began the class was by explaining that from my
experience, Shamanism exists in a space that has an emphasis on the
relationship to what we normally see as separate objects. Whereas our culture,
modern culture, puts an emphasis on the individual and their conflict with the
environment, emphasizing the perception of seperate objects such as the cup on
the table, shamanism puts an emphasis on the relationship between the cup and
the table. So the cup is on the table, and in their relationship is a type of
reality. This way of perceiving things
reveals the interconnectedness of our world. That is something that we have
lost in modern society and it’s part of why we have such violence between each
other as humans and lack of respect for nature. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tell us about your
first visit to a Mongolian shaman. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first visit with a Mongolian shaman was very strong. From
what I’ve seen now, it seems to be true that most Mongolian Shamans, including
this one, can bring through the spirit of ancestors quite powerfully. You can
feel the energy of the room change even before the spirit was completely
brought through. In Shamanism, it’s necessary to manipulate the space where the
ritual takes place. The shaman definitely had created a sacred space. When the
spirit was brought through you could also feel the heat radiating off the
shaman and the shift in energy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One thing that was interesting to me is the emphasis on
ancestor spirits. While this is common in many forms of shamanism, it’s not
always emphasized as much as it is in Mongolia. This particular spirit (which
the shaman channeled) was very wise and was willing to pose hard questions to
the person they were healing, which is in my opinion an essential part of the
healing process. This allows the person being healed to look at their own
problems and affect their own healing. Also, the spirits are a lot of fun as
long as you’re respectful. They can joke with you a bit and invite you into a
very friendly atmosphere. The Shamans themselves are also very friendly. At the
beginning of this first visit, the shaman invited me to a big shamanic ritual
the following weekend where three Shamans were taking on new spirits. This kind
of invitation was very sacred and gracious of him – and the timing was also
quite serendipitous. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>What was your purpose
in visiting the shaman?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m still at an early stage in learning to be a shaman and
I’m sure I’ll always be learning. I visited because I needed some help from the
spirit in clearing some blockages that I became aware of in my own practice not
too long ago. In traveling to Mongolia it became clear that one of the reasons
I’m here is to engage myself with the Shamans and spirits here and obtain their
help in my ongoing learning and development. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>What happened at the
Shaman initiation? <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were seven Mongolian Shamans in all, three of which
were taking on new spirits and about thirty to forty friends and family
members. The Shamans set up the ritual space by creating a circle of protection
and power around the whole camp. In the main ritual ger, they all set up their alters
and opened up the spirit world, or as they called it, the Heavens, which serves
to create a direct link between the physical realm and the realm of spirits.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There were various other rituals, many Shamans calling in
their own spirits. The rituals to call in the new spirits were quite strong and
the main teacher as well as the other Shamans had to be careful as it can be
dangerous when first calling on the new spirit. They did this in a
well-practiced manner, even as it went on almost all night. In one of the last
rituals, five shaman set up around an oboo, which had a string tied to the top
of it and had been brought down to the center of the ritual ger, connecting the
Heavens to the earth. These five Shamans brought their spirits all at the same
time, which was extremely powerful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Did they tell you
which tradition they were practicing?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Yes, their tradition was the Buriyat tradition which has a
big emphasis on the costumes the Shamans wear. It’s quite elaborate and while
most forms of shamanism have some forms of attire, the Buriyat tradition seems
to be one of the most elaborate, and it’s essential to their shamanic practice.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Did you take your
spirit?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The Mongolian Shamans were very open and gracious, and asked
me if I wanted to bring through my spirit, which I did. It was a big opening
for me. My spirit doesn’t always come
through so strong since I’m still learning. In this space, with all the energy
there, my spirit came through very strongly and there was an interesting
healing and communication between my spirit and the Mongolian Shamans. I was
very grateful for that opportunity. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>How did the
Mongolians respond once you took your spirit?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Well I think it was unusual for them to see this type of
spirit come through because at least in the Buriyat tradition, the Shaman’s
face is covered when the spirit comes through. When my spirit comes through,
there’s no face covering. My spirit, who is a female spirit, likes to look
around and move more than the spirits in the Buriyat tradition. Also, my spirit is a deity, whereas Buriyat
Shamans are ancestor spirits, so there is a different energy coming through,
which I feel is a little different from what they’re used to. So the space was
unfamiliar to them, But it seemed that the Shamans and the Mongolians there
appreciated the experience and were grateful for the spirit to come through. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>This might be an
obvious question, but did anything weird happen at the Mongolian Shaman
gathering?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Weird things always happen in Shaman gatherings. One funny
thing that happened was about midnight, in between rituals, a van showed up
with a small movie crew. They filmed a short scene that appeared to be in a
film taking place sometime in Mongolia’s past with the actors in traditional
Mongolian clothes. It seemed quite random, but it had obviously been set up
beforehand. We found out later that it was for a hip-hop music video. Another interesting thing was the hawks that
were swooping down quite close to the ritual ger during key moments. The shamans
explained that in their beliefs, this was the spirits coming down to watch the
proceedings and to accept offerings. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>What are traditional
Mongolian offerings?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vodka of course, as well as different types of food and
sweets. In larger rituals like this, animals are sacrificed. Things like food
and alcohol and fire are common offerings in most Shamanic rituals. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>You said that the
first Shaman you visited removed a blockage. How did he go about doing this?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the first time that he brought the spirit through and
agreed to remove the block, we were told to return in five days. We were to
bring with us many offerings and tools for the ceremony such as vodka, katag,
silk, black and red string and a white sheet. When the spirit was called
through, he directed the ceremony and the translators, or the spirit’s helpers,
who in this case were the Shaman’s sister and a family friend, carried out the
remainder of the ritual. First I offered katag, silk, vodka and tea to the
spirit. Then, he directed the vodka to be arranged on a tray and for me to be
covered with the white sheet and the red and black string to be wrapped around
me. I’m not sure exactly what was going
on, of course, because the spirits have their own language that they operate
with in the ceremony and of course everything was in Mongolian. What I felt at
this point was the blanket and the string were isolating the blockage. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The spirit asked me to sing my power song and drummed along
to it. Then he had some red and black string tied around my right angle and
told me to focus my awareness there, as if my spirit was present there. He
drummed again and at this point, he was bringing my spirit through the block.
In doing so, the energy of the spirit moving through the block dissipates it,
and that dissipation and movement through the block is the removal of the block.
The spirit said he would leave and come back; the spirit left the space and the
Shaman returned (through him) and after a few minutes the Shaman drummed in the
spirit again. The spirit said that the ceremony had been successful. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Did you feel anything
when he was removing the blockage?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were a couple times when a very strong energy was
moving through my body. When they removed the sheet and the string, I could
feel myself opening up, as if there were more space in my body. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What are your next
plans while in Mongolia?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next I’m traveling to Khovd. There is a woman considered to
be a Green Tara living there. I work with Green Tara’s spirit, and before I
knew about this particular woman, I felt she was drawing me to Mongolia. When I
found out about this Green Tara, I felt it was obvious that I should go and
visit her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>What have you learned
thus far from Mongolian Shamans?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well the learning is still going on and in that state,
things are very much in flux. I’m seeing something about the complexity about
the Shamanic world, the difference between ancestor spirits and deities.
Something is starting to become clear about the interaction between the deities
and the ancestors and also about the roots of Shamanism and how this tradition
emerged in Mongolia. Also the Shamans have been extremely proficient in what
they do, and have imparted a lot of wisdom about how to move forward and create
a closer relationship with my spirit, and the realms of spirit at large.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Anything else you’d
like say?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d like to thank the UB Post’s Cooper and Khash for making
contact and translating, which isn’t easy. I’d also like to thank Oliver
Claycamp for putting us in contact with a very good shaman. Also, I want to
express my gratitude to the Shaman’s and their translators for their openness
and willingness to bring me into their space and teach me about their
tradition. And of course, the deepest reverence for the spirits, for their
healing and guidance. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-9480197296651960902012-07-31T18:43:00.000-07:002012-08-29T05:11:08.587-07:00Sheer violence and hollow revelations: the legacy of the Mad Baron<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">Published July 28 in the UB Post </span></div>
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It’s no stretch to say that the Mongolia we see today, the world’s
fastest growing economy, has had a powerful and interesting past. With its
colorful cast of historical figures and conquerors, none are more puzzling than
psychopathic warlord Freiherr Roman Nikolai Maximilian von Ungern-Sternberg,
or, as many called him, the “Mad Baron.” <o:p></o:p><br />
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The self-proclaimed last Khan of Mongolia, the Baron played an
important role in deciding the twentieth century fate of Mongolia. Without the
Baron’s interventions, antagonization, sheer violence, and hollow revelations,
twentieth century might never have matured in the way it did. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Worshiped by many as a demon and by others as a living God, the
Baron was born to a Baltic-Russian aristocratic family in Graz, Austria
sometime in the mid-1880s. Adding to his tyrannical enigma, the Baron’s
birthdate is difficult to pin down because of two reports that separate his
birth by over a year. More puzzling is his last name, Sternberg, a traditional
Jewish last name that means “star mounted,” especially when prefaced with Ungern,
which means “unwilling.” Unwillingly star-mounted. Not a great fan of his own
name, especially when taken into account with his anti-Semitism, the Baron would
later have his name translated as “Great Star Mountain” during his reign in
Mongolia. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His sadistic tendencies, which would later show up in the ways he
punished his enemies and those around him, were seldom reported while the Baron
was a child. He grew up during a trying time in Eastern Europe but had a more
privileged childhood than most. The Baron claimed his lineage could be traced
all the way back to Attila the Hun and that his family had always been “warlike
and given to mysticism and asceticism.” He was fond of detailing his family
lineage and their carnage, including his great uncle Baron Wilhelm Ungern, who
had been known as “brother of Satan” due to his alchemical inclinations and
general insanity. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Various descriptions of the Baron only add to his intrigue. Some
described him as tall, others as short; some said he had green eyes, others
blue. He’s been depicted as a raving lunatic and as a pseudo-philosopher of
history and esoteric concepts. One of the few existing pictures of him depicts
him in a shiny Mongolian deel adorned with the Russian Order of St. George
lapel. Perhaps the best description of him comes from Ferdinand Ossendowski’s <i>Beasts,
Men and Gods</i> as a man with “a small head on wide shoulders; blonde hair in
disorder; a reddish bristling moustache; a skinny, exhausted face, like those
on the old Byzantine icons. Then everything else faded from view save a big,
protruding forehead overhanging steely sharp eyes. These eyes were fixed upon
me like those of an animal from a cave.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Baron’s philosophy was also baffling. “I have spent all my
life in war or in the study and learning of Buddhism,” he once said, when asked
about his religious preference. Practicing what he deemed “Military Buddhism,”
the Baron took it upon himself to kill or punish as many as he could to help
speed up their Buddhist rebirths. His admiration for Buddhism grew with his
disgust for the Bolshevik revolution happening in Russia. The Baron claimed
that Military Buddhism protected the processes of humanity by steering it
towards evolution; this as opposed to revolution, which only led humanity “to bestiality”
and same sword different leader mentalities. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His path of carnage began after the Baron volunteered as a soldier
in the Russo-Japanese War, a war fought entirely on the collapsing Chinese
Empire. By the time he had arrived at the front, the war had all but
dissipated, leaving the Baron to gain his first appreciation of the Central
Asian landscape. He continued his military service after his first taste of
Asia by serving as an officer in East Siberia. While in Siberia, he became
obsessed with the nomadic culture of passing Mongolians. In 1913, he was transferred
to a small Russian consulate in Khovd, a small western city in Mongolia. At the
start of the First World War, he joined the Austrian Front. As the war
concluded and the Boleshevik Revolution began, he backed the Romanovs and
earned the “Mad Baron” moniker which would stick with him in various forms
until his death. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Believing himself to be a reincarnation of Chinggis Khan, the
Baron rode with a horde of renegade soldiers to Mongolia on October 1, 1920.
His goal was to establish a pan-Asiatic state founded on Buddhism, or more
appropriately, Military Buddhism. He made plans to free the Bogd Khan, the emperor
of Mongolia who had been imprisoned by the Manchu. After three days of drunken horsemen
galloping the streets shooting, raping, pillaging, and killing
indiscriminately, the Baron successfully sieged Ulaanbaatar in February of 1921.
Two weeks later, he freed the Bodg Khan, and was given the high title <i><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">darkhan khoshoi chin wang</span></i><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">. He began
promoting order and cleanliness in Urga, forcing the citizens to clean the town,
thread lights along the streets from the newly built electricity plant, build
bridges, and set up schools and hospitals. He also protected trade by publicly
hanging Russian and Mongolians guilty of stealing from Chinese merchants. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The violent nature of the Baron bloomed during his short reign
over the now semi-sovereign nation of Mongolia. A fan of alcohol himself, he savagely
tortured any soldiers found drunk or hung over by forcing them to camp naked on
frozen rivers. Everyone was a suspect to the baron, who favored lashings by
stick until flesh separated from the bone. He pooled many of his torture
methods from Buddhist concepts of hell, such as burning in fire pots. His
collection of soldiers, a group of about six thousand composed mostly of
Cossacks and Mongolians, would flee like mice when the Baron stumbled around
his encampments looking for someone to discipline. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As his rule continued, the Baron grew increasingly eccentric, and
took to riding around shirtless and growing out his beard. He surrounded
himself with shamans and fortune tellers, and grew increasingly bold on the
battlefield. There are eye witness accounts of him taking tea breaks and
smoking cigarettes during the heat of battle. Other accounts see him galloping
blindly into seas of bullets with little or no armor. People around him started
to grow frightened of the Baron, especially as his close circle began to
question his stability and vision. Meanwhile, D. Sukhbaatar, the future Mongolian
revolutionary leader, was bringing his Bolshevik-backed forces from Russian to
Mongolia. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Several fights ensued in the summer of 1921, eventually leaving
the Baron to retreat towards Tuva to prepare for an escape to Tibet. His soldiers—outnumbered,
outgunned and frightened by their leader—mutinied and planned to kill the Baron
and his inner circle. Days later, after an unsuccessful assassination attempt,
the Baron was captured by a Soviet detachment. En route to his trial in Moscow,
<i>The Times</i> reported in September 13,
1921 that the Baron was being publicly exhibited as a monster. He denied all
charges levied against him, defending himself to the end by saying that all
those who died because of him died because they were “too red.” He was executed by a firing squad on September
15, 1921.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My name is surrounded with such hate and fear that no one
can judge what is the truth and what is false, what is history and what myth,”
the Baron said in 1921. A special sort of crazy, the Baron lived according to
his own truth but unfortunately for others, they too fell prey to his brutal
madness. He was a sad man, filled with carnage, blood lust and burdens. “I am
not a simply a man, I am a leader of great forces and have in my head so much
care, sorrow and woes!” he once said to travel writer Ossendowski. While the change
to Communism may very well had happened with or without the Baron, he played an
important part in sparking the national grasp for Communism through his
outlandish ideologies and wild abandon. <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>By inspiring
fear in those who met him, the Baron created an opening and some would argue,
necessity, for outside forces to swoop into Mongolia. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-75977380994332695972012-07-22T19:13:00.001-07:002012-07-22T19:13:36.619-07:00Texas, the Mongolia of America<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Texas, the Mongolia
of America<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Published July 16th in the UB Post</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are
more similarities between Mongolia and Texas than one would think. They both
contain vast stretches of land that host everything from empty steppes to
gorgeous mountains. Both have large livestock and mineral industries, and share
a sense of pride attached to hailing from the region. Both are patriotic,
sometimes kitschy and above all, solipsistic. Even more interesting, some of
the hats and boots Mongolian men wear resemble Texas attire. The landscapes are
harsh in their own right, one hotter than sin and the other colder than hell.
There’s even a Texas Pub in Mongolia, a popular restaurant with burgers and
steaks. Mongolia seems to know some about Texas, but how much does Texas know
about Mongolia?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
While visiting my family in Texas
over the summer, I decided to take it upon myself to find the answer to this
question and introduce a key point of Mongolian culture to a few of my Texan
friends. My first stop was a Mexican food restaurant the morning following my
arrival. After ordering some tacos, I explained to the waitress at the
restaurant that I hadn’t eaten Mexican food in nearly year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where did
you live, dear?” she asked, putting her order pad into her front apron. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I still
live there. Mongolia. I live in Outer Mongolia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A look of
confusion spread across her face as she tried to place Mongolia. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know,”
I said. “Genghis Khan? Mongolian empire? Between Russia and China?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She shook
her head slightly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s far
away. In Asia,” I said, giving up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really? Do
they have Mexican food there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They have
one place that mixes Mexican food with Indian food.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She laughed.
“Is it cold there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Very
cold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How long
is winter?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It depends
on your definition of winter. If your definition of winter begins at 32
degrees, then it is cold about seven months out of the year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If your
definition begins at negative ten degrees and below, then winter lasts about
four months.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She shivered. “And the food?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mutton,
mutton and more mutton, except for the capital city,” I said, loading a chip
with salsa. “There’s lots of international restaurants there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s
mutton?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Old
sheep.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do they
know about Texas there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Actually,
they called Texas <i>Tejas</i>…” I said with
a smile. Originally, Texas was pronounced <i>Tejas</i>,
which happened to be the same way Mongolians pronounced the name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How
funny…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
quenching my year long craving for Mexican food, I headed over to the Starbucks
nearby with a full stomach. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey, I
know you. You used to come in here,” the Starbucks barista said, pouring my
coffee. “Didn’t you go somewhere or something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yea, I’ve
been in Mongolia the last year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mongolia?
Isn’t that where nomads live?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It sure is.
They live in the countryside.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well,
what’s it like there?” she asked, handing me my copy of coffee. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
inevitable question. How should one describe Mongolia to a Texan? Cold? Full of
tradition? A budding democracy? A former Communist country? The pollution? The
tradition? The Soviet Blocs? It’s a warranted question that any expat will tell
you they have trouble answering. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I went with the easiest answer:
“It’s like anywhere else. Sometimes good, sometimes bad.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I saw
something about Mongolia on the National Geographic channel,” she said. “They
live in, oh what are they called?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yurts, but
Mongolians call them gers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yea those
tent things. Have you stayed in one of those?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I stayed
in a ger last year with a Mongolian family. They had a baby who I thought was a
girl but turned out later to be a boy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s
nice. How big is Mongolia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s twice
the size of Texas with less than half the population of Houston.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few days
after my arrival in Texas, I was invited to a birthday party on the outskirts
of the city. Knowing that I needed to represent Mongolia and my travels
somehow, and secretly hoping to rile some Texans into starting an old fashioned
shoot-out, I brought a liter bottle of Chinggis Gold Vodka to the party. I
vowed to teach the Texans to drink the Mongolian way, and for the most part,
besides the fact that I wasn’t able to get them to finish the bottle completely
– I succeeded. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mongolia?”
one woman with blonde streaks in her hair and a chest tattoo asked, “Does that
place still exist?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m living
proof that it does,” I replied, as we lounged in wooden chairs around a
homemade picnic table. Beers sat on the table, beads of sweat on their necks
and ours. “So are about ten million other people. It’s been a bit under the
radar the last one hundred years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another guy asked: “One in six people
or something are related to Genghis Khan? It’s something like that, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yea, he
was a busy man,” I replied, blocking the unforgiving Texas sun with my forearm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I heard he
had like 1,000 babies. That’s a busy man!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t
wish it upon anyone.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll be
honest with you,” he said, leveling a beer-filled gaze at me, “About the only
thing I know about Mongolia is the historical stuff. You know, Genghis Khan and
all that. Taking over everything. The rest is a mystery. What’s it like there
now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Its
growing in every way imaginable. Who knows how much it will grow over the next
ten years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A former
co-worker of mine wearing a fifteen gallon cowboy hat knew a bit more about
Mongolia than the other party members. As it turned out, her father had been
dating a Mongolian woman for some time, which was something of a contention for
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s it like there? I mean, what’s
it really like?” she asked, after explaining to me how the Mongolian woman had
sent her a book on shamanism and how her father had survived a car accident
with the woman recently. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s really
cold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How cold?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cold
enough that your eyelashes freeze.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s
really cold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gathering a
few of my friends in a walled-in patio built off the backside of the house, I
did my best to explain to them how Mongolians make a toast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It usually
begins with a Mongolian guy saying ‘za,’” I said, holding up the shot glass. I
had brought a shot glass made out of an antler especially for the toast. I
explained that Mongolians didn’t normally drink of shot glasses-cum-antlers but
I don’t think anyone heard me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my
friends, a hearty Texan in a vanilla cowboy hat held up his beer and said,
“Za.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yea, za,”
I said, keeping my shot glass in the air. “So someone holds up the glass, says
some nice words about fate, destiny and then they finish the bottle. The
youngest one technically needs to fill the shots.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Finish
it?” someone asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Finish
it,” I said, pouring the first shot and handing it to my friend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Za,” he
said, taking the shot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You only
say ‘za’ right before you <i>give </i>a
toast,” I explained to him later. “I mean, it’s not a tradition or anything,
it’s just someone saying ‘ok.’ Like, ‘Ok, I am toasting to blah blah blah…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what
should I say if someone hands me a shot?” he asked, as I handed him another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You should
say <i>bayarlaa</i>,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He snorted.
“What that’s mean?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later I
handed him a shot and he said “borscht,” which is pretty close only having
heard the word one time. He claimed that the Mongolian vodka had loosened up
the party and set a nice vibe for an evening full of live bluegrass and wide
brimmed hats. He also told me to keep the spare room at my apartment open in
Mongolia. Apparently, I’d sold him on the country. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I walked
around handing out shots, I heard various comments regarding Mongolian vodka:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s like
a shot of water with a dash of cayenne pepper. Wonderful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s so
smooth.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I lived
there I would drink this every day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s so
tasty.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How many
bottles did you bring?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is this
really from Mongolia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where is
that again? This is delicious!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t
normally drink vodka but I’ll make an exception seeing as how you brought this
all the way from Mongolia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vodka
was a hit at the party, and I left early, after playing devil’s advocate and giving
everyone as much as they could take. I even tossed a shot into the wind,
thanking the Gods for their blessings, good Texas friends, and the cool breeze
that had blown up over the nearby hill, rustling the leaves in the trees and
stirring joy in our souls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
My next stop: a Mongolian stir-fry
restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
following day, I arrived at Genghis Grill in South Austin after a hearty
rebound from my night of Texas/Mongolia drinking introductions. The restaurant
was nearly covered by the wild foliage outside its dark tinted windows. It sat
in the far corner of a shopping complex adorned by a red sign that Genghis Khan
might or might not have approved of. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walking
inside, I asked the host if it was ok if I took a few photos. I explained to
him that I lived in Mongolia, something he didn’t seem too impressed about, and
looked around the seating area until I found an item actually from Mongolia.
Someone, he didn’t know who, had left one of the leather wrapped souvenir
bottles of Mongolian vodka on the wooden counter that surrounded the host’s
station. I explained to him that the bottle was actually from Mongolia, again
he wasn’t impressed, and pointed at the alcohol tax sticker on the label.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, are
there lots of these Genghis Grill restaurants?” I asked him, as he continued to
stare at me wearily.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There are
at least twenty-five in Texas,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.
Genghis Grill is a franchise food chain headquartered in Dallas,” he said. “There
are lots in Houston.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Has anyone
here ever been to Mongolia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You said
it was a franchise, has the owner ever been to Mongolia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I mean
I don’t think so. Maybe someone at corporate headquarters went.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, this
is definitely from there,” I said, turning towards the emptied bottle of
Mongolian vodka.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was
here before I got job,” he said, turning and walking towards the bar on the far
side of the restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked up
at the restaurant’s motto which had been written on the wall opposite the
host’s station:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Genghis Khan and his Mongol
warriors heated their shields over open fires to grill food in the heat of battle.
Likewise, our Grill Masters take the fresh ingredients you choose to build your
bowl, then stir fry them to perfection on our sizzling hot grill.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I sat
myself in the far corner of the restaurant, under a pair of black and red flags
tied to the ends of fake spears, I wondered if the restaurant’s motto was true.
Did Mongolian soldiers really use shields as giant woks or was it another
fictitious account of the famed warriors? With so many rumors, tall tales and
sentences that began with, “I heard Genghis Khan,” followed by some strange
exaggeration, it was hard to tell what was true about classic Mongolia these
days and what was false. One thing was for certain, the Mongols conquered more
than they knew what to do with and if they are anything like the Mongolians
today: they ate meat and lots of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The food items on the menu might
have shamed a current day Mongolian. Edamame? Summer rolls? Stir fry? Your
average Mongolian would have never tasted any of the dishes. My favorite
concoction? Khan’s roasted apple pie: a pastry shell with Fuji apples baked
inside and glazed with sticky globs of Mexican caramel. Think a desert version
of Mongolian huushur and you have about the closest thing on the menu to actual
Mongolian food.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The drinks
were a different story: Khan’s Mojito, the Mongolian mudslide (Patrón, vanilla
Smirnoff, Baileys and cream), the Mongolian martini, Khan’s kamakazi and the
Warriorita all would have quenched the palate of any thirsty Mongol today or
800 years ago. The best named drink items? The Khangarita and my personal
favorite, the trademarked Mongorita, a blue margarita in a giant fishbowl shaped
glass with thick shards of salt affixed to the rim. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe
Genghis Grill, while ripe with stereotypes, actually captured somewhat of the
essence of the thirteenth century Mongolians. I looked around at the restaurant,
hoping to validate my sudden epiphany. There were gongs hanging from the tops
of the booths, more flag clad spears, a picture of some guys with mustaches on
horses that looked like something out of Medieval Times, wood stools with GG
(Genghis Grill) burnt into their backsides, track lighting, red walls with
black air conditioning piping on the ceilings and the restaurant’s other motto painted
on the wall that flanked the bar: “They ate well. Really well.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe not. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The host
came back around to take my order. I ordered a green tea and offered him the
Mongolian flag that I had purchased at the Chinggis Khan Airport. I won’t say
he took the flag reluctantly, but he seemed more or less enthused that I had
given it to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s the
actual Mongolian flag,” I told him, handing it to him before leaving the
restaurant thirty minutes later. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Nice,” he
said, waving it around like a sleepy man at a Fourth of July parade. <o:p></o:p></div>
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While they may be worlds away, Texas and
Mongolia have more in common than they think. Most importantly, they could also
learn things from each other. For Mongolians, Texans could teach them quite a
bit about extracting resources efficiently and navigating the fine line between
maintaining one’s landscape and reaping the benefits from one’s resources. For
Texans, Mongolians could share insight regarding globalization and the
importance of culture. Most Mongolians speak more than one language, something
that many Texans could benefit from, especially considering their proximity to
Mexico. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Mongolia
has been called the Texas of Asia, referring to its vast resources and size.
While there is a sister city relation between Darkhan-Uul and Irving, Texas, it
seems the only other connections between the two places is a few dinosaur bones
that have made their way from Mongolia to Texas. Both share a horse culture and
admiration for rebels, conquerors and outlaws. About the only thing separating
Mongolia and Texas are a few oceans, a few ideologies, a few nomads, a few
countries, and about 11,406 kilometers. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-54267023198367100712012-07-02T06:22:00.000-07:002012-07-02T06:22:32.798-07:00Texans drinking Mongolian vodka<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOH4iWi7ClXtOlsVATzjKvhVbtDEtZGmGAsClGK3BgCbysRfiXSDkAP5HUFc1kQ6oAbmk3kcmxuohtFil7EflroYs7wNHtFv0eApBSvhmNL-iNbVWSaQrAXXihMRRp3626ZrdWV137KK4/s1600/texasmongolia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOH4iWi7ClXtOlsVATzjKvhVbtDEtZGmGAsClGK3BgCbysRfiXSDkAP5HUFc1kQ6oAbmk3kcmxuohtFil7EflroYs7wNHtFv0eApBSvhmNL-iNbVWSaQrAXXihMRRp3626ZrdWV137KK4/s400/texasmongolia.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-9173806867459766242012-06-30T06:26:00.000-07:002012-06-30T06:26:11.629-07:00Cover for Roger Grate, Sukh Dev<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Draft version cover of my new novel. <div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"> </span><a href="http://www.cooperbaltis.com/" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">Also, updated my website.</a></div>
</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-24694773759015887412012-06-30T04:44:00.000-07:002012-06-30T04:44:18.633-07:00Saker numbers expected to increase by 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3n28q2oEp8RKEcVPyO-PFSMtZnnESbD-tcIbuiMT08fumVJHS9XE3puolcy8eXVseuuYaJ40FlM1PZKE0u8wONNtWUjyi3A7dVGCkmPhNqMmCjFUqMJMW1_vAmZbNHGQyVKRQe1lAs8/s1600/research_saker_falcon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3n28q2oEp8RKEcVPyO-PFSMtZnnESbD-tcIbuiMT08fumVJHS9XE3puolcy8eXVseuuYaJ40FlM1PZKE0u8wONNtWUjyi3A7dVGCkmPhNqMmCjFUqMJMW1_vAmZbNHGQyVKRQe1lAs8/s1600/research_saker_falcon.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Published June 25, 2012 in the UB Post</i><br />
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A favorite bird of Chinggis Khan, 150 Saker Falcons will be
exported this year, an agreement reached at a Mongolian cabinet meeting earlier
this month. </div>
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The most commonly used raptor by Arabic falconers, the endangered
Saker Falcon (<i>falco cherrug</i>), with
its brown underbelly, gunmetal gray flight feathers and 35-42 cm wingspan, is a
highly sought after export in the Gulf Arab countries. Sales of the falcon, both
legal and illegal, have increased exponentially since the collapse of the
Soviet Union, which has created international pressure for countries hosting
the falcons to protect them from extinction. </div>
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Known for its ability to adapt to desert climatea, the last
fifteen years have seen a substantial increase in the illegal Saker trade to
the Middle East, directly threatening the already low numbers of the species. The
illegal trade is difficult to track, claim the researchers from the Middle East
Falcon Research Group, due to the migratory patterns of the falcon, which
stretches from Mongolia to parts of Africa. The most striking decline in recent
years has been seen in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, directly funneling bird
smugglers into Mongolia in hopes of trapping a falcon. While UNESCO recognizes
falconry as a ‘living cultural heritage,’ the exportation of endangered falcons
such as the Saker creates an immense challenge when trying to balance
ecological factors with recognized global traditions. With Saker Falcons
selling for 10,000 to 12,000 USD, it’s no wonder that the illegal trade
continues, regardless of biological considerations. </div>
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Legal trade of the falcon has picked up in the last decade,
with Mongolia legally exporting 2,700 Saker Falcons from 2000-2010, earning the
country an estimated 11 million USD. According to 2010 estimates, less than
7,000 falcons remain in-country, and the fact that the endangered falcon is
exported at all has some critics and environmentalists up in arms. Worldwide
estimates by Birdlife international pin the Saker population somewhere between
12800 and 30800 individual falcons. </div>
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While the Mongolian government has decreased the amount of
exports in the last four years, from 300 to 150, the necessity for bilateral
relations between Mongolia and the Gulf continues to have continued to
influence the legal trade. The building of the new parliament house,
preservation of the Gobi bear, as well as a 22 million dollar road project all
have been undertaken with funding from Gulf Arab countries. All of these things
come under consideration during debates to limit Saker exportation. </div>
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Recently, a five year Saker program was executed by the
Environmental Agency-Abu Dhabi, the Wildlife Science and Conservation Center
(WSCC) and International Wildlife Consultants (IWC), showing some signs of
progress on Mongolia’s vast steppe. As it can be difficult for Saker Falcons to
find viable nesting areas on the barren step, 5,000 metal barrels on poles with
holes cut into the sides have been installed in Saker breeding areas. The 2011
results show that 201 pairs of falcons have chosen the barrels as a nest,
something that scientist see as good results. Scientists for the project also
hope to implement microchips onto the young falcons, helping to decrease the
number of Sakers that are exported illegally. </div>
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Researchers aren’t the only ones enthusiastic about the
Saker project. Local herders claim that the nests have brought more falcons
into the region, which has decreased the amount of rodents that are notorious
for destroying prime grazing lands. The program’s target is to have 500 pairs
of Sakers producing 1500 chicks in their artificial nests by 2015. They also
hope to inspire ecotourism in the areas where nests are erected. </div>
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With conservation measures being implemented, Saker numbers
are expected to go up in the coming years. However, for the bird to be
adequately preserved in Mongolia, a crack down on the illegal export trade will
need to be instigated to prevent the number of Sakers from declining. Further
research will also need to be done regarding the artificial nests, ensuring
that the population is increasing in a way that isn’t triggering an increase in
illegal exportation. If Mongolia continues along the path of conservation, it
very well may be the only safe haven for Saker Falcons in the near future. </div>
</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-58381460369711636532012-06-30T04:41:00.002-07:002012-06-30T04:41:43.106-07:00Weekend getaway: Darkhan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Published Monday June 18th in the UB Post</i></div>
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You’re an expat
living in Mongolia or a Mongolian needing a little break from the everyday
grind. Maybe you are very familiar with
UB, maybe you have rarely left the comfort of your office or the delicacies of your
favorite restaurants, maybe you thrive in the city and are less than thrilled
about visiting the countryside. You love familiarity, the creature comforts,
the nightlife, the supposed security of UB. Besides, you have a two week
vacation every year and you can just visit someplace else in Asia during that
time. You’ve heard of Darkhan, the third largest city in Mongolian nestled
along the Trans-Siberian Railway, but have thought nothing of it. After all,
what does Darkhan have to offer that UB can’t provide?</div>
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An industrial base
created in 1960 by the Soviets, Darkhan lies just three hours away from UB, two
and a half if your taxi driver drinks a Red Bull before departure, four if the
road is especially congested, three and a half if you cram yourself onto a bus,
and most surprisingly, six if you go by train. It’s close by, it’s quiet and
the local economy has picked up in recent years due to coal mining and grain
production. It’s a city that you can circle by foot within an hour and a half,
a city near enough to the Russian border to make it unique to other cities you
might have visited in Mongolia. It’s a place that you can do most of the things
you can do in UB, from going to clubs to visiting monasteries and museums. </div>
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Braving a journey
to the mysterious Darkhan, former UB Post editor Timothy McLaughlin, a local
teacher named Sara Wilson, and yours truly, decided to take it upon ourselves
to discover what Darkhan truly had to offer. The following is an account of our
less than arduous journey.</div>
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Picking the worst day possible to leave UB, we
braved the rain as we negotiated with taxi drivers at the Dragon Center. Agreeing
on a price, we sat in his stuffy taxi twenty minutes or so while he tried to
find another person to take to Darkhan. After all, a taxi (technically) has
four seats available and we were only filling three.</div>
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Like good expats, we quickly grew impatient
and asked the driver if he would leave immediately, offering to pay him extra.
The driver, a stocky Mongolian man with an almost fetish-like affection for
leather jackets, readily agreed to our price and hopped in the taxi, speeding
away from the Dragon Center and doing his best to avoid pedestrians, puddles
and any chance of fresh air coming into the vehicle by child-locking the
windows. Total cost of the ride: 60,000 MNT split three ways. </div>
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We arrived in
Darkhan three hours later. The trip was relatively painless, and the candy
hills of Selenge province, pink from the sun, random herders with peppered
flocks on nearby hillsides, vast miles of blue sky with occasional clouds casting
heavy shadows below and the general smoothness of the road, greatly lifted our
spirits. We were dropped off outside a random delguur, and picked up within
minutes by one of my students, Batchimeg, who had offered to be our tour guide.
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Our first stop was
the Kharaa hotel, where we shared a room for 30,000 MNT also split three ways. It
was a nice hotel, a bit confusing at first as our guide Batchimeg lead us
through a labyrinth-like secret entrance (while far from secret, it sounds
better this way), but the rooms had hot water and were old but comfortable. </div>
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After settling in,
we were escorted via Batchimeg’s mother’s minivan to the popular Texas Pub, and
sat down at a table not far from the extremely loud, but fairly decent live
band. Decorated with pictures of Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, Texas regalia,
ropes tied from the heating pipes on the ceiling, pictures of New Mexico,
painted barbed wire and mounted horns: the phrase ‘out of place’ does not
accurately define the restaurant dedicated to Texas in the middle of nowhere
Mongolia, over 7,000 miles away from the Lone Star State. I can say this with
authority having been born in Texas. (Interesting note: Darkhan is a partner
city with Irving, Texas, home of ExxonMobil). </div>
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We shared two
pizzas, sipped a few cocktails and beer, and had a great time at the Texas Pub.
We quickly settled our tab, as Darkhan nightlife was calling and due to local
bar curfews (they actually follow the rules in Darkhan), we were in a hurry to
get dancing. Before heading to DD Club, we toured the giant Morinkhuur statue
on the northeastern side of the new town and did a quick circumambulation of
the chipped golden Buddha statue on the hill. After getting our religion and
tradition out of the way, we hurried to DD Club to see what all the local buzz
was about.</div>
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For a tax of 1,000 MNT, DD Club is
not only the best deal in Mongolia, it also rivals if not beats the hottest
clubs in UB. With a weird space-age glass floor covering what looks like a
Martian landscape cast in green, cool spheres on the walls, nice lighting,
ample seating, great bottle prices, friendly enough locals, and an interesting
steel beam structure surrounding the dance floor, DD Club did not disappoint. We
danced, we watched a small girl fight break out, we drank and were merry. </div>
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DD Club closed
before twelve, and we were left to wander the streets of Darkhan for the next
hour or so, something which we soon realized was a common Saturday night for
the youth in the city. Retiring to our hotel, we vowed to tackle the city of
Darkhan in the morning, hopefully seeing all the sights before our planned
departure at two. </div>
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While we didn’t
succeed in seeing everything the following morning, for example, we missed the
Kharaagiin Khiid Buddhist monastery, which is housed in an old log cabin in the
‘old town’ section of the city. Also due to the fact it was Sunday, we missed
the Museum of Darkhan-Uul, which hosts a collection of archeological findings
and taxidermies. We did succeed in meeting our guide Batchimeg at a local
bakery and filling ourselves with some sort of Russian pastry item, followed by
Korean food at Bulgogi Family, gorging ourselves on Bibimbab. </div>
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We finished lunch,
which was good enough, and headed towards the hotel to grab our luggage.
Arriving at the bus station, we again took the expat route of hiring a driver
upon discovering that the long wait to buy our bus tickets was set to make us
miss the bus we hoped to take. This time we each paid 15,000 MNT, as the driver
had a buddy who also needed to go to UB. We hit the road, ready to return to UB
and its traffic congestion and hurried atmosphere. We were dropped off at the
Dragon bus station and left to fend for ourselves, easy enough if one knows how
to hail a taxi in Mongolia. </div>
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Darkhan is a small
city worth the trip from UB. The quiet streets, clean air, decent restaurants
and attractions make that is once removed from the daily stress associated with
the capital city nearby. With a population of over 75,000, it doesn’t seem as
small as some of the aimaig centers one might visit in Mongolia, yet it is
small enough to feel local and homey. It’s a weekend getaway that’s affordable,
easy to undertake, and highly rewarding. </div>
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</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-52724409143767809002012-06-16T19:04:00.000-07:002012-06-16T19:04:23.106-07:00Mongolia Today, Mongolia Tomorrow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><u>Mongolia Today, Mongolia Tomorrow</u></b></div>
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<i>Published June 1, 2012</i></div>
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Once, while walking to my home
after teaching an English lesson at the National University of Mongolia, I
heard a familiar bass line drift through the brisk evening air from a second
story window. In an old grapefruit building next to my school, a young
Mongolian band was practicing a cover of Nirvana’s “Come as You Are.” I
stopped, a little surprised to hear that particular song drifting from the
half-opened window. As I continued walking, it dawned on me that the song
defined so much that I witnessed in Ulaanbaatar every day: its startling
individuality, its anachronistic underpinnings, its double-edged hospitality,
even down to its weapons laws. </div>
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If there is truly a place where
West meets East, a place where an old man wearing a traditional Mongolian deel and
checking his iPhone with prayer beads wrapped tightly around his wrist <i>isn’t</i> out of the ordinary, a place where
a woman under the age of 30 helped start and run the first Mongolian stock
market, a location where a young man with a sharp Korean haircut and patent
leather jacket is at ease and walking with his arms behind his back while doing
a bit of throat singing, a place as hot as it is cold, as isolated as it is
welcoming, as mysterious as it is pedestrian—Mongolia is such a place. </div>
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It is a country where modernity and
tradition have mixed so fluidly that neither seem oblivious to the other and
every time one is in danger of overshadowing the other, the natural way of
things somehow balances the other out. It is an endless knot of extremities and
creature comforts, culture and technology, whimsicalities and sustainable
groundwork, laudable feats and furtive failures, incipient consumer culture and
daily surprises. Mongolia has a dialectical relationship with itself. </div>
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Ulaanbaatar is almost a world unto
itself with its own celebrities, its own host of singular magazines and
newspapers, its own clearly defined communities, widening social gaps clear as UB
days cold as UB nights, its own environmental problems, its own fascinating
history, all within the confines of a city that paints itself larger than it
actually is, a city that is the center of its own world. It is a city that
treats itself how New York treats itself: self-important, an obvious center of
something, a place where everything happens, a place to be seen, a place to be
heard. Yet it is truly in the middle of nowhere, miles from any other major
city, on a vast steppe surrounded by vast steppe surrounded by icy mountains,
fields of livestock, sandy deserts and sandwiched by the Russian and Chinese
border. </div>
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This solipsistic mentality, this
come as you are belief system, only adds to the uniqueness that is Mongolia, uniqueness
wrapped in justified self-importance. Justified by its historical place on the
world stage, its budding mining sector, its switch to democracy, justified
through its matchless ability blur the distinction between past and future,
tradition and technology, globalization and cultural identity. The Mongolian
mindset is contagious, dangerous at times, but radically distinct at a time in
history when tedious standardization is prevalent and great powers are waning. It
is invigorating in a world weighed down by economic woes and fruitless wars. It
is booming, it is revitalizing, it is growing so quickly that living in
Ulaanbaatar is quixotic, the growth as mesmerizing as it is frightening. </div>
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Mongolia is and always will be as
Mongolia does. It’s the Wild West of Asia, the last frontier, Minegolia, the
land of Chinggis Khan, the last nomadic stronghold or whatever buzzword
economists and social historians levy on it. While the sustainability of its
growth is yet to be seen, and many would rightly argue needs to be addressed, the
near future seems to be pretty bright for the unique inhabitants of the Asian
steppe. </div>
</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-43116061173486095662012-05-29T17:31:00.002-07:002012-05-29T17:31:36.586-07:00Vetting presidents, setting precedence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>By Cooper Baltis<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>published Friday May 24 in the UB Post</b></div>
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Tense and emotional, confused and distressed, angry and
shocked, these words fail to describe the sentiments of the early morning crowd
gathered outside of N. Enkhbayar’s home on April 13, the day former president of
Mongolia was arrested. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was at the airport when the first arrest attempts were made,
waiting for my brother to arrive from America. I became curious about the event
as I watched a mob of people gravitate toward a flat screen television hook to the
wall. The television was fixed to a news channel showing live images of police
men holding back a crowd and covering themselves with their riot shields. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Puzzled as to what was going on, I asked my Mongolian friend
whom I had come to the airport with what all the commotion about. She walked
over to the television and stood with the crowd for a moment, read the caption
on the bottom of the screen. She came back a few minutes later to inform me
that the ex-president of Mongolia, Enkhbayar, was being arrested. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After spending nearly a month in jail and going on a hunger
strike in which he lost 16kg, Enkhbayar was released on bail by the Sukhbaatar
district court. Many believe his release was heavily aided heavily by
international pressure, through groups like Amnesty International and the UN,
who cried foul play when the details of the arrest surfaced. With parliamentary
elections soon to take place, an election cycle Enkhbayar plans to participate
in, the arrest and the publicity could not have come a worse time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There seems to be a trend this year in executive arrests, a
trend that some see as dangerous and others see as necessary. In February,
Maldives issued an arrest warrant for Mohamed Nasheed, a founder of the
Maldivian Democratic Party and former president of Maldives from 2008 to 2012.
A political prisoner during his youth, the reasoning behind this call to be
taken into custody is still unclear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In March, the Malawi
government arrested Austin Atupele Muluzi, son of former President Bakili Muluzi.
Guinea-Bissau’s interim president Raimundo Pereira was arrested at his home in
April. Also In April, Malian soldiers began arresting allies of ousted
President Amadou Toumani, after a coup which forced him into hiding. While some
of these cases differ from the recent Mongolian situation, common themes and
the possibility of future scenarios are frighteningly clear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the United States, the term “executive privilege” is used
to describe the ability for the President and close members of his or her branch
to resist certain types of intrusion from the judicial and legislative branches
of the government. While governmental systems differ around the globe, I will
use this term to define a president or prime minister’s ability to defy arrest.
</div>
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To be a president is to naturally be the one to take blame
for everything. A citizen lost his or her job? It’s your fault. The economy’s
performance is lackluster? You’d better fix it. Some people feel they don’t
have the same rights as others? Again, your fault. The roads in some faraway
city are deteriorating? You should be fixing this. Foreigners are investing in
your country? How dare they! There’s a drought? It must be because you forgot
to make it rain. The hot water isn’t working? You should have heated the water
yourself. Someone got hit by a car? You should have added more traffic lights.
Someone is overweight? Quit feeding them candy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The need for executive privilege arises from all these
scenarios. It is easy to blame a president for anything and everything that
went wrong during his or her term. The need for executive privilege is anchored
by the fact that being president is a double-edged sword. Lives are taken into
your hands, peoples livelihoods depend on you, and things you do or say can
affect your country’s economic outlook during your term and for decades after.
This coupled with the fact that the ears of a former president have been filled
with sensitive information regarding a variety of subjects only add to the
argument for executive privilege. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Executive privilege can also be a dangerous thing. There are
many scenarios that have been played out globally in which a president took
advantage of their position. This can cost lives, produce economic turmoil and
create unnecessary wars. Executive privilege creates a situation where bringing
warranted justice to a president is difficult, generating gross circumstances
in regards to accountability. If presidents are not held accountable for
certain types of offenses, then the very foundations of democracy and justice
fracture. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If executive privilege is not administered, problems also
arise for former presidents when the incoming government is that of a political
rival. Regardless of true intent or bona fide evidence, this snag in the
democratic process makes it difficult to bring presidents to justice, whether
they are guilty or not. After all, all current presidents wanting to bring
former presidents to justice should remember that they too will be former
presidents at some point. The sword of supposed justice caters to no man. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With many global news organizations mentioning how
Enkhbayar’s arrest has poked holes in the Mongolian democratic system, the
elections this summer should prove to be interesting. Democracy is always in a
process of experiencing growing pains, as the whim of the people changes daily
and this whim can help or hurt the future prospects of a country. Since a
president is a person, he or she falls too into this category.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Presidents should be held accountable for decisions made
during their time in office; otherwise, nothing will separate a president from
a king besides the term limits. However, due process is a right afforded to all
citizens of a democratic nation, a right that must extend to the president. In
Mongolia’s case, the fact that Enkhbayar was taken into custody in such a
forceful way added international pressure where international pressure wasn’t
needed. This pressure has built over the last month, and is waiting in the
rafters like hungry media dogs for the predicted political explosion this
summer. If Mongolia can learn or modify anything from this recent experience,
it will be to take things lightly this summer. And if power changes hands,
seeking revenge will only exacerbate an already ugly situation. Revenge never
helps anyone in the long run. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mistakes are constantly made in the democratic process. If
more politicians and citizens recognize and embrace this, changes to the system
are possible and these modifications only enhance the outcome of the system. If
discussions are greeted by anger and resentment, the spiral downward only
hastens the possibility for revenge politics and outward violence. While
executive privilege is a good thing, it must not be used as a shield to shelter
presidents from responsibility and accountability. Democracy is secured by
justice, and once these strings begin to unravel, whatever it was democracy was
protecting us from becomes chillingly apparent. </div>
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</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-7843853335056333102012-05-22T17:42:00.002-07:002012-05-22T17:42:39.086-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlRbHu7u7si2dXYMfkYxSPUSpQakPNfnN2H7uQYafoR8naxWfaX3WlsFBRnrtegClkKDgdyDZzeSAjbJpIpu-YaINPSOvpIbId_LwSGhnjN8XXrN7ZS7RmHSYXbRnzXf7APvD6nJQ8jk/s1600/photoshoot4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlRbHu7u7si2dXYMfkYxSPUSpQakPNfnN2H7uQYafoR8naxWfaX3WlsFBRnrtegClkKDgdyDZzeSAjbJpIpu-YaINPSOvpIbId_LwSGhnjN8XXrN7ZS7RmHSYXbRnzXf7APvD6nJQ8jk/s320/photoshoot4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.stedwards.edu/newsroom/news-releases/release/2012-05-22/spring-st-edwards-university-magazine-signs-of-changing-ti">Click here for a press release about the St. Edward's article about my Mongolian journey. </a></div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-48995744316581921302012-05-20T18:28:00.003-07:002012-05-20T18:28:37.933-07:00Winter's Back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/elFy47opuf0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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New diddy recorded May 2012 in Mongolia </div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-43430836406411853872012-05-18T17:07:00.000-07:002012-05-18T17:07:42.712-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMOH08p0j_8eq9_xNioAIGVjbji_cokpHeaP1Fk4xj1op9pga1El5xW04z8lL5mGH9T2ZOZ2IiVJG9TQ9XnPbkYU73pufaonaHgiKjIASFQVNh9w8Usyc_ZMEQE5L4sFipthkbCOrjtE/s1600/tumblr_lzj0ejzQve1r3sn0vo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMOH08p0j_8eq9_xNioAIGVjbji_cokpHeaP1Fk4xj1op9pga1El5xW04z8lL5mGH9T2ZOZ2IiVJG9TQ9XnPbkYU73pufaonaHgiKjIASFQVNh9w8Usyc_ZMEQE5L4sFipthkbCOrjtE/s320/tumblr_lzj0ejzQve1r3sn0vo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>The Battle of Khalkhiin Gol<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>By Cooper Baltis<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>published Friday May 18th in the UB Post</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oftentimes, in the always dramatic stage of world history,
the smallest acts go on to have the largest impacts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A seldom mentioned engagement in the Western history classes,
the 1939 Battle of Khalkhiin Gol fought between
Soviet/Mongolian forces and Japanese forces in Eastern Mongolia went on to have
a fundamental impact on the way Japan conducted its World War II campaign.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the month of May might mark the anniversary of the
nearly three month battle, the conflict started two decades beforehand in the
1910s. As the Tsarist Empire dissolved due to the Communist powers, Japan
briefly occupied pieces of Siberia and a handful of eastern Soviet provinces,
leading to many disputes and petty battles. As Communist powers solidified in
the early 1920s, the Japanese army slowly withdrew from the territories,
tucking their tails between their legs and vowing to return. Regrouped and refueled
by nationalistic imperialism, Japan drew back into the disputed areas in the
1930s, setting up the puppet state of Manchukuo and eventually seizing Shanghai
and Nanking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With Japan again on its borders, and fearing the possible
repercussions of the Anti-Comintern Pact signed between Germany and Japan, Soviet
Russia began sending financial and military aid to the Chinese. Tensions were
also stirred by the ‘Strike North’ faction in the Japanese military strategy.
Proponents of this faction argued that by cutting the Trans-Siberian lifeline,
Japan could quickly expand into Mongolia and Siberia as well as eastern Soviet
provinces. This buffer zone would then allow Japan to harness the natural
resources of Manchukuo. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bisected by the Holsten River, the Halhna River (Khalkhiin Gol)
flowed north to south in the eastern Mongolian in the Dornod aimag. The
conflict started when close to 100 Mongolian men entered the disputed territory
in search of a grazing area for their horses. A Japanese cavalry attacked the
Mongolians, driving them back across the Khalkin Gol. Two days later, Mongolian
forces returned seeking vengeance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the end of May 1939, Soviet forces commanded by General
Georgy Zhukov and the 6<sup>th</sup> Japanese army, consisting of 20,000 men,
had moved into the area. A battle was fought from May 28 to 29, eventually
ending in a draw. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As June progressed, skirmishes increased near the village of
Nomonhan, which lead to Japanese General Michitaro Komatsubara getting orders
to use any means necessary to expel the invaders. The Japanese planned on a two
prong attack, but were ultimately unsuccessful as the Mongolian and Soviet
forces were able to prevent the two wings from meeting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Supply problems arose in July for Soviet and Mongolian
forces as nearest supply base was 748 kilometers away. The supply anguish was
felt by the Japanese, as supply transports from Manchukuo were few and far
between. By the end of July, the battle
had come to a standoff, and rather than risking more causalities, the Japanese
army disengaged from the battle to give time for General Komatsubara to ready a
counteroffensive. While casualties have been disputed on the Japanese side,
deaths in the thousands were officially reported on both sides. Soviets claimed
to have taken 60,000 Japanese lives, while the Japanese army records indicate
this number was closer to 9,000. Mongolian and Soviet forces suffered over
8,000 deaths with 15,000 wounded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before General Komatsubara had a chance to attack, a
cease-fire was signed in Moscow, which eventually led to the signing of the
Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact at the end of August. The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact was a
non-aggression pact signed between Germany and the Soviet Union, which directly
affected Japan’s expansionistic plans through Central Asia. It also the Soviets
the opportunity to focus solely on one front if need be. By September 1, World
War II had started and Japan had begun its preparations to focus on its
campaign solely on the Pacific. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This change in strategy creates ripples regarding the
historical outcome of World War II. With its South Strike Group policy in
effect, Japan began aggressively pursuing Southeast Asian targets. The results
of the Battle of Khalkhiin Gol also made it geographically impossible for
Germany and Japan to unite their control through the Soviet landmass. It was
also a victory for the Soviet General Zhukov, who would go on to become the
most decorated general in the history of Russia. The Japanese decision to focus
on Southeast Asia created a scenario in which the Soviet Union wasn’t fighting
two fronts, allowing them to focus all their military might on fighting Nazism
in the West. This put pressure on the Nazi regime, as the war on both of
Germany’s borders became hard to handle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About a nine hour drive from Choisbalsan, Khalkhiin Gol is
now a war memorial site complete with a museum and the ten meter high Yalaltiin
Khoshuu monument. It is a quiet place in the middle of nowhere, behind a border
checkpoint and blanketed by cerulean Mongolian skies. It’s a site that many
argue changed the course of Japanese aggression during World War II, a place
where many men took their final resting ground. </div>
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</div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5847575033185595972.post-11439545236400797732012-05-14T05:40:00.001-07:002012-05-14T05:40:40.301-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Recorded in Bhutan two years ago.... </div>Cooper Baltishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09595684315003990226noreply@blogger.com0