June 8, 2007 From the Beach to Enkhtavan

Hi-Diddly-Ho, there neighbors!

I just spent the past week at the beach which, being on a missionary schedule and in the largest land-locked country in the world, was no small feat. Before you all start getting worried that Sister Johnson has gone A.W.O.L., let me assure you that it was merely a mental trip, but oh what a trip it was. It all started when I went to consult the mission witch doctor, Elder Plunkett, on the possibility of acquiring some sunscreen. He started diving into various bins of Half-Used Stuff That Missionaries Brought from America and Left Behind and 5 minutes later emerged with a gold mine: a fairly new bottle of Coppertone SPF 45. I was ecstatic.

Now, I don’t know what the smell of sunscreen does to the rest of your brains, but to me it means nothing other than a day at the beach (preferably the Jersey Shore), and from the moment I opened the bottle I was no longer riding buses and walking down dusty gudamj’s. I was cresting Atlantic waves in a motorboat and strolling sandy beaches. There were moments when I could almost feel myself submerged in the salty ocean, but then I realized it was just the sweat pouring out of every pore in my body.

Yeah, remember when it was really cold? Remember when I wore two layers of long underwear every single day and spent more time falling down than standing up on the miles and miles of ice? The National Mom-to-Missionary weather report states that it got up to 90 degrees in UB this past week. That makes a little bit more sense. Everyone else has been saying that it got up to 35 degrees, which doesn’t really mean anything to me. Anyway, it’s hot now. Cold was hard, but I can do hard. Now it’s uncomfortable, so we’ll see how that works.

My apartment stays pretty cool, and we don’t have to worry about hot water bothering us because the whole of the 100 Ail and 11th districts (two communities with a population of about 5000 people) are completely without hot water for 11 days! Yuu gesen ug ve??? The phrase “sponge-bath” is taking on a new and all-too-personal meaning. It’s okay though, because I’ll be moving out of my apartment tomorrow because…

AH!!! I’m going to Enkhtavan Branch!!! My new companion is Sister Otgontuya!!! I know her already and she’s awesome!!! AH!!! Sorry, I’m just trying to convey the excitement of a transfer to all you non-missionary folk. For those of you who don’t know a lot about Enkhtavan Branch (I’m guessing there are a few of you out there), here’s a little more info: first and foremost, it is the home branch of my MTC teacher Sister Marta, so yay. Now her mom can make me food. Second of all, it is very much not in the quaint little ger districts where I have spent the entirety of my time in Mongolia thus far. No more gers at all, I believe. My new area is all big apartment buildings, and it is located in one of the ritziest and most commercialized parts of UB. I’m excited for the change, and I’m really excited to be companions with Sister Otgontuya. This next transfer is her last, however, and Sister Johnson continues to not be able to hold on to a companion for more than 2 ½ months.

I’m really going to miss Sister Nergui. We had some good times together, and some bad times that were good times because we were together. A couple of those bad times occurred as we were walking through the scariest (not really) part of town near where I teach English. It’s scary because this area is, as a little stitch of graffiti on a bridge states, “property of Sansar Squad.” We’ve never really run in to the Sansar Squad, but the very fact that they were able to graffiti (can I use that as a verb?) in English with correct grammar makes them a force to be reckoned with. Most graffiti here is written in English, and very incorrectly at that. It’s hard to break a grammar rule in two words or less, but if there’s a way to speak English incorrectly it’s been spray-painted somewhere on the buildings and walls of UB.

One time, as we were walking through the Sansar Squad turf, this little saikhan gar of a kid ran up and splotched blue ink on Sister Nergui’s sweater and then ran away laughing. We were both completely taken aback with the sudden and violent nature of the attack (Hey, we’re sister missionaries. Sweaters are a big deal), and Sister Nergui was freaking out about how to get the ink out of the sweater. As we hurried home, still completely outraged at the brashness of the little boy, we turned to look back at the ink stain and…it was gone.

So…I have to ask an employee to get the key to unlock a secured cabinet in the back in order to get a hold of deodorant in this town, but little Ganbat down the street can get his hands on disappearing ink? What in the delkhii is going on?

Happy summer everyone! Congratulations to the Walt Whitman High School Class of 2007 (that means you, Greg)!!