A little reflection

A horoscope for 6^th December has suggested I write down the changes I’ve made recently. So I asked myself changes to my physical self? Changes to my surroundings? Changes to my thoughts? Changes to habits? Actually, there’s a yay on each account.

I had recently written in my notebook that the best time of my life was when I was 20 and 21-studying, working and living in London. I met great people, enjoyed wonderful cinema, listened to music that seemed to merge with my soul, and was just being, fearlessly and openly. And now looking back I had feared that it would become a source of nostalgia only, and even more frighteningly, the only nostalgia of good times.

But the above little task has made me realise that despite times passing and circumstances changing there’s so much more to do, achieve, learn, and enjoy! I’m learning to be more positive and initiative. I’m aiming to achieve better mind over body control. I’m reading more, using my body more. And I’m truly enjoying being a mum to a scrumptious little boy! These are all the changes that I’ve made in recent months, and I’m hoping it’ll be enough so as not require new year’s resolutions and all that next year!

A Modern Solution?

Planning’s been on my mind recently-it bloody well should be as I’m upto my eyeballs in assignments for my master, but fret not-and it’s so inevitable that whatever I learn in my classes I’ll inevitably relate it to Mongolia’s (most likely) more abysmal state of planning at present, and daydream about what I’ll do when I get back. A dangerous hobby for someone with a power complex!

It occurred to me recently that the humble Mongolian ger, or a yurt as everyone else is determined to call it, is one of the most flexible, diverse, fluid and sustainable form of housing anyone has ever seen or utilised safely. Despite its’ centuries old heritage and the lack of practical amenities such as running water and a toilet, it has continued to be used today all over Mongolia and some European countryside and camp sites calling themselves ‘boutique camp resorts.’

I say fluid because the interior is always the same in almost every ger and all Mongolians know exactly where everything goes-where you place your chest, bed and kitchen. In fact you can fit a it in there and yet there’s always space to move around and locate yourself in different parts of your home.

It’s diverse because there are many different versions of it depending on what tribe you belong to or what part of the country you live in, as well as versions by Native Americans in the USA and other types in South America. And yet, you can always instantly tell that it’s a ger, wherever you find it.

I say sustainable because you can literally pack it up in an hour and take to hundreds of kilometers away and unpack it in the same time, without doing any damage to your environment. It’s also sustainable because it’s made from natural materials that a herder can get hold of easily and use and rescue over and over again. And for a particularly creative herder, he/she can paint it lovely colours and patterns inside.

And most importantly, in my opinion, it’s flexible for so many reasons it goes beyond the word flexible. It’s a home, a school, a nursery, a guest room, an office, a travelling clinic, a hotel room, a storage room-one man’s wealth, another man’s getaway. Besides being able to plonk it pretty much anywhere, the fundamental idea of a mixed use space in planning as a discipline, the issue of community and getting people closer at a local level, the utility as basic housing and shelter, adaptability in any weather and visual amenity conditions, and the cultural significance to its end users all tick the boxes for a great solution in a planning conundrum. Surely there’s an award that this humble example of great urban design should win?! If not urban design, at least a nod from the neo-anti-capitalist-self sustaining-freegan crowd, because by using it in a modern commune type of living arrangements with water, toilet and electricity (candle lit living will suffice the hard cores) it’s bound to re-start a revolution, no?

Either way, it’s potential and currently small scale experimentation as part of an almost non-existent public housing scheme in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia has brought lots of positives. But of course with negatives too. And this is something that today’s planners can and should address.

Original and still current use 

New settings-urban sprawl and ger districts 

Modern resort

Let's get a bit political.

What really gets me is injustice and unfairness, and what gets my blood boiling is injustice being served to those who are in more unfortunate positions and are weaker. There is injustice all around us but until something happens to you or to someone you love that is just not fair, and further, feels like a kick when they're down, I don't think anyone will ever truly get it.
No one is born the same-we all have different circumstances when we enter this world, and yet there are certain types of people who systematically end up in positions where they are making decisions for everyone else.

Take the Conservative party for example. During their campaign in in the last elections i must admit I did not pay nearly enough attention to their policies as I should before deciding that they are a more shinier bunch of the lot and maybe they'd do well to lead this country. It was mostly based on presumptions, image and the 'we're not posh, just middle class, like all of you' aspirational pile that was fed by the Camerons in their Smythson leather goods packaging. Shame on me for not realising the fears of those who experienced their office the last time round, or at least understood fully what it will mean for the people. For those who have not been fortunate to be born into privilege or those who aren't old enough to know the first time round, the time of the Tories is dreadful.

Public housing and the creation of the benefit/welfare state-as much as I personally do not support these schemes for the long term, recent plans to relocate those who need the support and receive public housing benefits (albeit there are those who take advantage) sounds so cruel and quite frightening to be honest. For dramatic tension, the words 'social cleansing' comes to mind. How fiddling with a few numbers in the benefits figures affect the lives of so many!

Single mothers struggling to juggle enough working hours and childcare so they continue to receive the support of their state will not be considered also. My friend has enlightened me that there will be many who will be affected by the decision to reduce benefits to families in need-simply increasing the hours one works to supplement the loss is not an option with expensive childcare, lack of employment prospects and just too hours in the day to make a life.

A young family with no obvious property or inheritance will struggle to stay together in one household let alone across borders because the immigration law to keep out those without visible wealth does not see the potential in their future generation-never mind giving opportunities for development and growth for a person, a family.

These are just tiny number of examples of what people face today and I have been able to see close up or read about. I haven't even begun to touch upon what the rest of the millions of people with each individual situations are struggling and attempting to fight against. If you fit the mould of what an ideal citizen in this country should be, according to this government, you're a part of this society. If you do not, or don't show signs of potential in the form of affluence/connections/post codes even, then you will be relocated.

I do not want to live in a society where it's not possible to think about one's future with hope and optimism, because you're categorised into the hopeless. I want to live in a society where people want to see other people do well, do better, be happy. I want to live in a world where I feel safe thinking about the future, rather than each of us sitting underneath our very own dark clouds. I want this world to care deeply about the people in it, as well as the trees, animals, credit crunch and the CO2 emissions. I want to call this world of ours home, and be proud.

I'm coming home, I'm coming home,

Tell the world I'm coming home.

Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday.

I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes

I'm coming home, I'm coming home,

Tell the world I'm coming home.

A Girl's Girl

I have to be a girl I'm afraid and do at least one blog post on clothes, not because it's expected of me, but because I'm so happy!
As all females (and people with an inkling of style :p) should know, the one most important piece of clothing to buy, or at least to appear as if you've always had it, is the knitted jumper. Like I just said, it shouldn't look brand spanking new and should ideally have the perfect fit and most importantly versatility-you could wear it with anyyyything.

Now, I've been avoiding this garment a little bit whilst also being on a hopeful lookout because it's dangerous territory for me. You see, a jumper is a complex garment. As with so many chunky knits out there, and rightly so for they do look so adorable and nonchalant, if you're on the (dare I say) 'wholesome' side, that's exactly what it'll make you look. Once you've realised this and accepted it, 'we' must move onto to the next alternative-the finer knit. But there's always the very high chance of looking 50 with fine knits if you're not careful. And the next issue is the cut-very important! It should sit just right on your shoulders, back and hips. Ah, the hip. For the ample hipped among us (me) it should never sit on the widest part of your hips for obvious reasons, but also never too high up because it will make you look like a block of chip.

Phelan means business.

Practicalities aside, we must then consider colour, texture, pattern, cleaning instructions and then the price. If you had a couple of hundred quids to spare Vanessa Bruno, Nicole Farhi, Preen et al have lovely everything. If not, then all of the above factors must be put together, carefully checked and considered. Which was why I had avoided this, until now.
Topshop can be a place that can tip either way-you'll walk in and walk out in under 10 seconds or you'll walk in and develop yet another girl crush (the other being Bond girl Berenice Marlohe) because Kate Phelan has become its new Creative Director, and she is doing a lot of things right!

It now feels like a place I want to spend longer and longer amounts of time in, without feeling older and older than all the other girls. Of course I avoid the sparkling hot pants and the mesh panelled jumpsuits and the bright jacquard skinny pants that are supposed to channel this season's 'brocade', and make my way to the corner where the lovely jersey tops, wool trousers, bright skirts, well cut blazers hang, and the knits, oh the knits!
They have the perfect tone of colour-pale indigo with tiny pink threads running across, black, grey and tan threaded fine fine knits that sits juuust right but will still keep me warm, not so chunky 'chunky' knits that can be layered in colours of butter, the sky and damson. The length is exactly what I wanted-just above the thighs and not a cm shorter. And the prices are not bad at all-not the usual Topshop overpriced 'desinger' stuff.

Ok, I now realise this post has gone on long enough and must wrap up before people mistake me for a girl whose interest is fashion rather than interested in fashion. One last thing, never buy knits online-you have to feel the knit, weigh the whole thing in your hands and the all important length can only be tried on.

Our Space

I've always thought that what you learn is always in relation to what you've learnt before. A context is needed to get an idea of where things are and how to make things better. Apologies for sounding a bit vague but I've been filling my head with a lot of planning related texts in the last few days and it gets one thinking, you know? Because when considering planning it seems that one must have a pretty good idea of a lot of other things so as not to leave anything/one behind when deciding where things go.
Back to the first point I made: everything I've been learning in the last few weeks has been really eye opening for me, and the best way for all this to sink in is of course to relate it all to what you've seen before. Case in point is Mongolia of course.

The creation of urban areas that people will use and care about without vandalism or neglect is a complex subject it seems. The texts and academic articles on matters of social issues in an urban context, equality, poverty and accessibility for all suggests that empowerment and engagement are one of the answers to a better place to live for us all. The key to a collective social atmosphere and the loving use of public space it seems is to involve the people who will end up using it. And naturally I relate this newfound realisation to downtown UB, the capital city of Mongolia, and try to envisage how/whether this is practiced in real life. In not so many words-it's not.

An example of such an uninformed creation and use of space can be found in places of education. As far as I can remember from my short years at a Mongolian primary school, nowhere is there such ample space available and yet is absolutely unusable. The school's fences were so far beyond the building that the space between the two would probably fit a football field comfortably (perhaps time and the strange way everything seems bigger when you're young are distorting my memory) and yet it was nothing but a field of dirt, sand and a few sorry pieces of tires stuck in the ground for PE classes. Where did we go during our breaks? What did we sit on after school to talk about all the important things that children at that age talk about? Why did we have just a tired looking little cafeteria that sits about 10 and sells over steamed dumplings and dried up cookies for the whole of the school? And why oh why were children told to stand in a line, outside their classrooms, against the walls, around the halls during break because there was literally nothing else to do? I honestly cannot remember.
No body was interested in asking the children what they'd like to do for break. No body was interested in involving the children in the refurbishment or decorating of their school. All that was required of them was to clean their classrooms and the school halls in a rota during their holidays or as punishment for being naughty (and there was a lot of them because children being children, a level of anarchy was definitely in the air).
If the school had cared enough to put up some roofs over benches, grow some grass and flowers (even in pots), a designated and safe socialising area for all students indoors and out, all the while involving their students: discussing what gets put up, offering choice to all ages, using the voting system to reach a decision and having an element of budget to better understand finances, and then physical involvement in the making, building and painting, how much we'd have loved that space and cared for it? How much we'd had pride and respect for our school environment?

I'm afraid it's not just the primary/high schools that are faced with this. Universities are even worse I think, because now the Mongolian student  is no longer a child but an adult, why provide them with recreational space, play areas, stimulating environments and comfortable social gatherings, when they can all go and make it themselves in their private lives and ways? Universities have no students space-literally. Quite study rooms, relaxed coffee houses, group work zones with computers and tables, lively common rooms for discussions to take places as well as to make a cup of tea-these are all luxuries that the modern day Mongolian student will never have the pleasure of using. Because most of the university building being used are large, old and very tired constructions that will cost more to refurbish and update with high speed internet, good lighting, much needed heating systems and adequate number of toilets, than starting anew. The floorboards creak, the doors hang off the hinges, the windows rattle and the notion of a projector in a lecture hall is shall we say quite fictional.

Of course not all university buildings are like this-since the transition era in the 1990s many privatisations have taken place, things have changed and doubling glazing does exist. But the problem is that some are good and most are bad-social inequality, the rich and poor variations, society's acceptance of such poor standards to some degree all have a say. It can be easy to point the finger and target the blame towards the guilty party (all I'm saying is too much of a centrally controlled socialism, read communism...) however it's time to look forward and make sure the right remedy is being suggested for the future. And I think the right remedy includes but most definitely not limited having the students' voices heard, thinking about the use of space more practically, keeping up with modern technology and the general wish for the welfare of students.

Isn't it time that an educational institution in Mongolia has a functioning site that will actually encourage participation in class as well as their built environment? Surely all people who are there, ready and open to learning be given the best possible environment and space to flourish? Spend hours reading, engrossed in a book, lost in research, and alive with animation when debating with other knowledge seekers.

So, learning about public space on my course, looking at with a hint of awe at my current university and the students' space that's available, I'm making comparisons and relating to thousands of other fellow students in Mongolia roaming the corridors of their chilly buildings and can't help but be indignant. I realise that the physical space can do only so much when it comes to development, and people, shared experiences, personal drive will determine how well someone comes out the other end of a formal education machine. However it does play a significant role in the overall results. Why build more office spaces and retails units when they're only going to be filled with disillusioned people who cannot remember why they ever wanted to be there (labouring and consuming) in the first place. There will be no inspiration left and the inspired will wither away.

For some, formal education is a gateway to greater things and for others not so much because they find their own way. In Mongolia, it's a means to an end, the end being a good diploma (I won't even start on the corrupt activities of fake diplomas here, that's another long blog theme), a well paid job, money to buy an iPhone, a car and a house. Nevermind the journey. The journey of knowledge, understanding and good experiences have been erased from the higher education system in Mongolia, and I think it needs to be restored because what's a great destination without memories of how we got there?

*I most aware that there are so many other factors that will affect, contribute towards, limit, hinder and cause the above conditions, however, until I learn how to fix as a planning masters graduate, all i can do is wishful thinking!

National University of Mongolia, Main building-that's the only parking lot by the way.

Guild of Students, University of Birmingham-unbelievable space for students!

Russell Square campus, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London-my first university had a humble space.

But made up for it ample with student activists!

Student Union bar, SOAS.

Student Union, SOAS.

Bullring, Birmingham-a beautifully working public space.

Student again

As I mentioned in a previous blog I have moved country again, or shall I say we have moved country again’ (it’ll never be I for a long time I’m afraid), to study for a masters degree. Although the decision never felt hard to make, only very natural and obvious, the effects borne from it are not so easy to deal with. To begin with, I am a student once more, mixing and mingling with other students, teachers, professors and professional slackers, all with some purpose in their lives. I’ve been looking forward to this all summer, greatly anticipating the process and prepping myself as much as I can to not trip over again, like the last time I was at an educational institution.

And so far everything I’ve read is genuinely interesting for me and I’ve enjoyed reading text after text on what other people may think is the most boring topic ever. I’ve truly looked forward to my lectures, raised my hand and participated in every class, couldn’t wait to get to the library to find the reference books and actually read them on my train back home. To a sceptic, this may seem like a typical first few weeks back at school type of behaviour, but I can feel that this time round it’s very different. Why? There’s just too much at stake. We all know how important education is, how it will give us the financial and social independence that we should all strive for towards the end of adolescence (although the reality of this possibility is becoming harder especially in the UK, with higher education fees becoming stupidly high with not much prospect for returns i.e. employment, at least in the European markets).  I had known this from a long time ago, and realised the importance of a degree and an educational experience, in my personal case at least, however it seems now that it was never taken seriously, by me.

In 2006 I was a somewhat mature kid with some ideas of what I want to be but actually no real idea of anything else. I spent three years studying but not actually studying a subject that half interested me because I didn’t understand it too well, making friends with people who weren’t really friends (although I have met a few special people), wasting hours and days away following the crowd, all in fear of not being with any crowd of people, of being alone.

Living in the real world for a few years and returning to education is very surreal. The professors and lecturers don’t seem that intimidating, the admissions officer not so professional, (most of) my fellow students not so cool or collected, the prospect of reading not so daunting, assignments not so scary, and the campus all very lovely. I’m lucky in that the Birmingham University’s Edgbaston campus looks like a proper campus, as seen in American teen movies, all large leafy green trees, looming clock tower, ancient buildings and (probably) hundreds of nooks and crannies to let the day slip by with a large text book.

And above all, I fully realise that I’m here for a reason, with purpose, and there’s no time to be standing around clueless. I have a child, a husband and a marriage, many great friends, professional experience to a degree, and most importantly, a future to think about, quite seriously. It’s not daunting at all, if anything, it makes learning, socialising, and living more interesting. I just wish that what I see now, and what I understand at this point in time was available to me the first time round. None of us are getting any younger, and with super achieving bright young things with a book deal, an online business and a first degree whilst looking like supermodels, ‘age is a high price to pay for maturity’ (Tom Stoppard).

For those people who are not patient enough to study for a long time and go from a bachelor’s degree to a master’s (like me) or has already been ‘enlightened’ to some sense, I highly recommend taking gaps between the process of seeking knowledge. Not only do you get to laugh at yourself from times before, you know yourself better.

This is my new university! (Aston Webb building).

My mum

My mum has spent many years raising my brother and I, then my sister after, alone in London. She worked many hours, two jobs at some points, juggled studies for a while, moved us around London countless times, took us to many, many theme parks, museums, parks and on trips, and then dealt with all our bullshit in adolescence, shouldered the financial troubles and shortcomings and managed to maintain a marriage half way across the world. I do have a lot of respect for her, especially now that I’ve begun my journey in her footsteps as a mum.

But what she has also taught me are so many in number and priceless in value because I know that that everything I’ve learnt, achieved and dream of had all been down to her.

My love of reading, books and the inherent desire to seek knowledge is my mum’s efforts and my mum’s alone. When I was growing up, and even today, she says: “Learn, learn and learn more. Education and knowledge is power. And no one can take it away from you.”

Helping others comes naturally to some and not so much in others, and for me it’s never questioned. No matter what the situation I can never seem to walk away from a problem or a person without ransacking my brain for any last vestige of possible aid.  And my mum has taught me this in the best possible way-by leading in example. This makes me a push over to an extent, naturally, but I enjoy it. I just have to remember to put some boundaries up.

Patience is a virtue they say but my mum says that patience will get you what you want. Controversial as it may sound, the one who let’s the moment pass (in matters of emotions, money and relationships) will ultimately win because you’ll always end up with the upper hand. In anger you won’t say something you’ll regret later, in impulse you won’t spend more than you can afford and in relationships you won’t hurt the other person).

Believe in something bigger than yourself. It’ll protect you, and it’ll guide you. Call it Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, hippy talk, sustainable living, or what you will but I don’t like labels mostly because I grew up in an environment I couldn't quite label myself at the age of nine, and no one taught me the specifics, and also because I think if we wait patiently, soon the need for labels will cease to exist and we’ll all live a life most happy.

Moving forward and upward, always. This was not taught per se but observed and fully accepted. Even in times of hardship and uncertainty I realise that we’ve always strived for better things. Better jobs, better homes, better food and even better English. Knowing that you can always do better and more in life has given me courage in the face of impossible situations and heart breaking moments.

My mum: a wife, a mother, a granny, a sister, a friend, a doctor, an inspiration.

Message from a Lord

When a model/calculation is tested over and over again and still give the same results, scientists call it a theory. My theory is that when you are in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing with the right mindset, the whole universe comes together to bind it all up and send you a message: you’re doing alright. Funny how this has come up again, and I’ve observed this in the past too, but this time it speaks to me even louder and truer. Before the universe bound up to tell me great but simple truths, but this time it feels mightier and more significant. It may all sound a bit hoo-haa for some however; it makes perfect sense to me.

Recently I enrolled in a master’s course in Urban and Regional Planning at the University of Birmingham-my road to getting here has also had similar flavours as what I’m about to write about here-and academically I’ve never felt more like I belonged here than anywhere else. 

Since the course started, and since then for two days of the week I read, speak, and listen planning, planning methods, theory, urban design and all that. The rest of the week I equally live and breathe the same topics, albeit in the dark when my son is asleep, in a quite couple of hours stolen in away in the city centre library, on the train ride from Birmingham to Coventry, in the park when taking my, yet again sleeping son, for fresh air. So suffice to say I’m surrounded by the subject. But a little example that hints at my universal message this time was found outside my yoga class and Lord Rogers of Riverside.

One of our assignments in class was to attend a public consultation of the council and write an opinion piece of the experience. What the heck is a council public consultation? And where do I find it? But on Tuesday after an hour and a half of pretty aerobic yoga class at the sports centre there by the door was a small A4 poster of the AT7 centre in Coventry that’s to be redeveloped and a design public consultation was to take place that Thursday! Hey presto, assignment sorted.

Before the yoga class I attended a memorial lecture given by Richard Rogers, the architect who designed the Pompidou Centre in Paris, the Millennium Dome and Lloyds building in London, and was given a temporary access to a world far beyond my own, which completely inspired me. Today, I’m still thinking about buildings, architecture, cities and different times all over the world in total awe. Suddenly what I’m studying became something beyond study, but a constant thought and awareness. When I tried to read a text this afternoon for a class on Monday I couldn’t focus, and a for a minute I worried that the initial enthusiasm was wearing off, and I wanted to read something completely different for a change. And almost without any real thought my hands reached for the Sunday Times Magazine from last week and read every article back to front-it was refreshing to read about many thing I wasn’t aware of or didn’t know but could relate to now. Then I came across an article about the Riverside Café and it’s anniversary and who do I see on the page in front of me but none other than Lord Rogers himself, in a bright lime green shirt sitting next to his wife Ruthie (who part owns the restaurant) in a bright coral shirt, smiling as if they were greeting an old friend! 

Lord Rogers

I realise these are fluffy and consequential examples but to me they are enough-it’s just what I needed to affirm that the decision to leave my husband behind for a year, uproot my little son to a different country, burden my mum with part time and sadly unpaid child care, and take up studying for a master’s degree, whilst being unemployed and therefore without funds, are all for the right reasons, and it’ll all be alright.

Pompidou Centre, Paris

Millenium Dome, London

Lloyds Building, London

Role model

A person’s role model’s gender usually matches their own (not all cases but most cases) and it’s perfectly acceptable to have their gender as one of the factors of choice. But what if we base our choice on nationality as well as gender? For a Mongolian woman, it becomes so limiting that I fail to pick one person that I admire and want as my role model.  In an age where internet, movies, music, sports and fashion has penetrated to the deep fabric of a Mongolian young generation, it’s much easier to look up to, admire, copy and aspire to be a foreign successful woman. The reason being that they are much more accessible and in many cases more glamorous to admire than, say, a female Mongolian politician or an actress. The most famous politician in Mongolia being Oyun Sanjaasuren and actress is…whoever’s dating the whoever at the moment.

Over exposure in the media is not a good thing of course and many critics have said that ‘knowing’ too much about people with public profiles (celebrities) affects us negatively because we start to believe that the extraordinary things in their lives are ordinary and we start to expect the same from our everyday lives, and only end up disillusioned and disappointed  in ‘them’.

But the problem in Mongolia is that there isn’t enough exposure about some of the most extraordinary women in Mongolia today. I’m afraid I can’t give a list of these great women for us to look up to and follow their careers-if anyone can suggest please do so! I just want to understand why this is the case and why the only great figures that many and most Mongolians look up to end up being either the warrior king that we’ve named our airport, vodkas and hotels after, or great sporting heroes like Tuvshinbayar, with his two Olympic medals. Nothing wrong with the above examples I say, but what else is there for a young woman in today’s world who needs an inspirational figure that will lift her up in her dark days and teach her a few things too? Not just a celebrity but someone with staying power and substance.

I suppose the sense of being untouchable is why women, from all over the world, wants to look up to the super famous types of women who are glamorous and successful. Is there a Mongolian equivalent? A sense of patriotism is brewing here but I’m sure there are amazing women out there in Mongolia, and we (I alone maybe) don’t know here. There are times when you just need a Mongolian woman’s inspiration to help you because it’s closer to home.

I don’t know my Mongolian history much but reading books like The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford certainly makes one feel closer to a great woman.  But these figures are just too abstract for a modern woman to think: ‘What would…..do?’ in a time of crisis? But have there been a female historical figure in the past that would inspire us today? Is there one Mongolian woman in a leadership role today, who would inspire thousands of us out there?

The USA has their Oprah Winfrey, the UK has the Queen, Anita Roddick, Vivienne Westwood, Australia has their Cate Blanchett, Jordan has their Queen Noor and Iceland has their Thóra Arnórsdóttir.These are internationally recognized and admired women (ok, and a roundup of my personal isnpirational women but I chose them because I admire their personal lives as well as their professional acheivements), and I’m sure there are hundreds more that people from each of these countries would also suggest. (I chose to list people with more visually public profiles because it's as close as you can get to 'knowing' someone and admiring them-it allows people to be able to learn more about someone who you've seena t least once and heard about rather than admiring a person for just one aspect of their lives. But nowadays we can all Google whomever we like and learn more. I just thought these were the most accessible for now.) And of course everyone has their own criteria for why someone would be their role model and inspire them, but most of us usually agree on a truly inspirational person anyway.

The search for the inspirational woman of today’s Mongolia should start here…who inspires you and why?

Oyun Sanjaasuren

Thóra Arnórsdóttir

Queen Noor

Anita Roddick

Tuvshinbayar Naidan

Eating makes one happy

Last week was a testing one, where our babysitter had to take a whole 4 days off, which basically meant the whole week. The timely arrival of my mum meant that she could instantly become babysitter for 5 days which was such a blessing however it meant for a week we lived a proper nomadic life where early mornings, food preparation, bottle cleaning, nappy changing, spare clothes packing, walker folding and potty cleaning jobs were all done at super fast speed at a god forbidden hour in the mornings so we can take little Arvis to his granny's before work. And the end of the day I'll walk over to mum and dad's, or stop by the old office for some extra work, then dinner, talks and more packing before bundling little Arvis off to home in the dead of the night while he sleeps. After 4 days of this happening, plus a huge, impromtu family gatherng involving more washing cleaning, packing and serving, it was getting pretty tiring.

During all this I decided to go on a little diet because having no babysitter meant I wasn't able to exercise after work or in the evening because of the exhaustion, so cutting out on food was the best solution, or so I thought. I even went as far as to record all the things that I ate and any activity that I did. Taking 208 stairs to the 9th floor in the morning and after lunch was to my mind a small victory, however I was not prepared for the lack of food.

I had always suspected and said that I cannot do diet, I prefer to exercise and eat my chocolate. This I filly accept now. The exhaustion, sleepiness, irritability, lack of concentration is not worth the effort of trying to lose or even maintain one's weight. A cup of cup-a-soup is not enough for lunch or for snack if it doesn't have a sweet taste that I can chew or crunch on. Sunflower seeds do not keep hunger at bay, it only makes me wait for the next thing that'll pass my lips. And drinking hot water with a slice of lemon is great in the morning, but when you're on your fifth already and it's not even 11 am, you're most definetley still hungry.

Having no energy when you get home in the evening is the worst. There' so much to do, clean, e-mails to write, bills to pay and a husband to pay attentions to. You even forget to have a  shower because you're so tired. Coffee only makes you jittery and sweat and you no longer feel any sense of emotion-ok this is a bit exaggerated, but it seriously felt like the colour was drained from everything that I was seeing.

Then I finally realised and accepted that I enjoy food. Eating what I want and when I want it makes me happy. And if you've managed to learn to some degree to eat in moderation and have a tiny bit of self control you're ok, I promise. Eating makes me happy. It gives me energy. And it lets me exercise. After just 4 days of feeling miserable I suddenly decided to let the invisible strap go, and then I went to two very intense sessions of Pilates on the Thursday and Friday. I couldn't feel better! I ate pizza that Friday night and didn't feel bad, just very happy indeed.
Screw diets, I want some chocolate and look like this too!

Office Life

I’ve now been employed by a highly reputable foreign company in UB for the last four weeks, doing a 20 hour week, part-time translation work. Rejoining the work force has been great, and although I applied for and accepted a job well below my previous positions and capacity voluntarily, there is still that feeling of being underused but also being pushed forward.

Let me expand. Translation work is boring if you have no self interest in the job - and it is not going to benefit you in anyway by furthering your intellect or even just amusing you. But I’ve convinced myself that despite having had more managerial roles in the post, I had missed out on the crucial and basic skills one has to gain. Like typing, translating, concentration and submission. Learning the basics is quite grounding for someone who’s in danger of being a little too confident.

However, seeing the managers of departments and others in a slightly senior role than me I naturally feel unnoticed, wasted and, let’s face it, unimportant. The first time I felt like was like looking through the window of a bakery when on a diet-quite sad really. But now there is that knowing nod inside and an invisible pat on my head (‘don’t worry, you’ll get to eat the cake, but after you’ve lost the baby fat’).

Body issues aside, something else that I noticed is the gender inequality and the general inequality in the office. Trust a woman to reference the 3 classic female causes of today’s politics consecutively in my last 3 blog posts right? (Child care, healthcare, gender issues-but I believe one should talk about what one doesn’t know so they learn, write about what one does know).

For a foreign company with overseas operations it’s generally the norm to send male executive types to oversea and manage various departments, with local subordinates. In fact, it has become such a common establishment in Mongolia today that seeing one (female) Mongolian in charge of a department at my current company was refreshing (albeit she was heading up the typical female department of HR).

Why the bipolarity then? It feels almost like a modern equivalent of a 50s office situation, minus the cool Mad Men type attire and cigarettes. Study after study has shown that women tend to be better leaders and managers, if we only get over our inability to speak up and be aggressive, or that pesky little nature’s issue of child bearing duties. The typical Asian response would be that women are easier to work with (read: submissive and easily controlled) or the typical developing country based company response would be that they need someone with experience (read: one of their own and unlikely to cheat the company). I realize that there are many other sides to my above generalizations but the effort to overcome this typical-ness is frustratingly little.

Lower positions of clerk, translators and assistants are predominantly female, and funnily (and maybe saddeningly enough) the IT predominantly male so that the female assistant will at some point have to ask for help about her darn printer.

And what’s more interesting to observe is the fact that departments, different levels of position do not mix at lunch time, in the kitchen or even at after work functions. For a foreign company it can be understandable that the language can be a slight barrier to vertical socializing for some employees but even the competent English speakers tend to segregate themselves and run with their pack. This may be an age old issue that has been discussed, ranted and blogged about from a long time ago by millions of females out there. But considering I’m from a predominantly liberal, small scale and not necessarily a profit seeking professional background I find this setup alienating. How will one learn, gain experience and more understanding if one only sticks to their own department/work/recipe? Is the higher plan to keep the ants working so they can be wielded in one profit margin smashing direction or is it that there is no higher plan, just the reality of what employment is like in Mongolia today?

Where are the good doctors?

Recently my son was quite ill. He had a fever of 39.7 degrees, diarrhoea and irritability that bordered on the bipolar, where one minute he was trying his best and the next he was screaming at the top of his lungs with streams of tears down his cheeks. When your child is sick, there is no other feeling like it. The feeling of helplessness and desperation and exhaustion was all I had, and my transformation of a generally happy-go-lucky type mum into a suspicious-lioness-protecting-its-cub-from-anything-that-moves took place.
After the second day of squirting baby paracetamol into Arvis' mouth and not seeing much improvement we decided to see the doctor. This was a mission because we never really registered him with any doctor in Mongolia since he arrived. And here are the problems with trying to get treatment here.

Like the GP system in the UK, everyone must register with their local district and khoroo to qualify for health, education, social and council services. We;re not registered at the the place we're living in becuase it doesn't belong to us and also because moving isn't just about packing up and leaving, then notifying your bank, tax office and maybe your magazine subscription. Because there's a monster of a citizen's databse that has everyone's infomration, enytime the slightest change happens you have to physically get your self out to the Citizen's Registration Centre, queue for hours on end and then be declared 'moved.' But that's the not the end, you then have to go to the disctrict and khoroo that you've moved to so that you can be registered with them and their services but only after you visited your previous khoroo to let them know that you're no longer in need of their services. All in all, we pay taxes so that we can run our own errands whilst the civil servants sit and watch you queue. This is just the tip of the iceberg though and I've diverted my ramble a bit.

Because of this problem of our's my mum, who used to be considered one of the best doctors in the city in her heyday, put us in touch with a paedetriction at her old hospital. She's the best paedatricion apparently and my mum asked her to see Arvis if he needs it. You have to know people to get the best services you can possibly get and if that fails, know someone who knows a lot of people. I mean good in two basic meanings-capable and trustworthy. There are shortages of these good people-doctors/teachers/engineers/whatever that you need, those with the resources usually hog their time and their lack of accesibility to those with less financial means or less conncted creates a truly divided society. And as Mongolians say, a knife has two edges, eventually even those good people become bad as their demand increases their price or worse reduces their value (as in they become moneymakers foremost).

Our paedatrician was not working privately, but remained in the state hospital, and although she was capable I had no trust. At that point I did not trust many people, and was always skeptical of doctors who prescribed anti-biotics as the first choice of medicine. But we were despearte and after two days of giving him the meds he was still not better. I decided it was time to start calling around and asking 'Where are the good doctors?'

A good friend of mine suggested a doctor she takes her daughter to and by then we both thought a private doctor will be better than the state docotr-why? Because we're at least paying the price of their consultation and time, rather than depending on their goodwill. And the doctor was pretty good because she conducted a very thorough examination in a very child friendly and bright clinic, and said that she doesn't want to rpescribe anything as he's in no real danger, just carry on with the paracetamol and stop the anti-biotics because it may be poisoning him more than anything. Perhaps it was the toys and bright wallpaper, perhaps it was hearing that he will be ok, or perhaps it was because I had a feeling about her. Whatever happened, I was immediately put to rest and felt so much lighter. When it comes to illnesses and your child you never know what is the right thing to do, except to look for a recommended doctor and trust in your instinct, then stick to them when you find them! You can never tell if a doctor is good (in both senses) or not for sure, be it in Mongolia or elsewhere in the world, and the scary thing is to put your trust in them. I know that we'll all need doctors at some point, no matter how healthy a lifestyle we live, and when we do, I hope their goodwill hasn't run out.

Childcare is a B****

I recently went back to work, after having spent some nine months being the primary caregiver to my little Arvis, because it felt like now I can tear myself away from him for a little bit and also because I was getting restless. Being quite lucky, I managed to land the perfect job, at least for the time being. 20 hours a week, three times a day from the office-and my office is pretty swish and right in the centre of town. It feels great to leave for work in the morning with my husband, knowing that I’ll be back by 6pm, or later should I wish to meet up with friends and then be home for two days of the week to play with my little boy, and do some baking. Couldn’t be happier. What’s more, meeting new people, making new friends, learning new things and accomplishing tasks and getting things done feels so invigorating, no matter how small. I know that this will only continue for the summer but it’s a great way to get back into gear and ready myself for the impending further study.

It all sounds perfect but it wouldn’t if there was no reliable babysitter, someone I can trust completely and who I know will be good to my son. Again, we’re lucky it worked out great but it got me thinking about  how the other young parents do it in Mongolia. It seems, from speaking to many people with children (I think people with young children naturally get drawn to one another!) that their parents (grandparents) perform a huge chunk of the childcare when the parents decide to get back to work or in a lot of cases in recent years, to study. In Arvis’ case though both of his grandparents are unable to do that both two very different reasons-one grandma’s very elderly and needs a lot of care herself and the other set is in their prime and working away.

Paid hourly babysitting is an alien thought in Mongolia because of the abundance of relatives and grandparents, and also because of a lack of trust in people and a even more so a lack of integrity in the carers. I know of several agencies training babysitter but they’re mostly for permanent and full time carers rather than services which you call in an emergency and still be at peace.

Once the kid gets old enough they’ll inevitable be sent to nurseries and kindergartens, some even to nurseries that care from Monday to Friday-a social conditioning and infrastructure that is no doubt a residual Soviet system-and they are not at all great. There’s the problem of unreliable care (food, environment, discipline tactics from medieval times) and then the issue of logistics. I honestly have no idea how some people deal with it. A very good friend of mine leaves her daughter with her mother-in-law and her own mother when she’s able to take time off her work. I think it requires a lot of energy to keep lugging a child around as well as leaving them behind, then going home to take care of house business, never mind personal business.

There are good nurseries out there, ones with great facilities, good food and abundant supervision, and the children who attend them tend not to get ill very easily-is it that it’s more clean or that their home environment is healthy? And is that in any way related to socio-economic background? Inevitably, it all comes down to affordability. Not everyone can afford to send their children to these great places, and they are a dime a dozen. Why aren’t more nurseries being built and run this way? The biggest reason it seems is that there is no physical space left in UB for the infrastructure. Thousands of people move to the city every year in search of a better life-employment, housing, education, opportunities. Buildings containing banks, shops, mining projects and health spas are being erected in every nook and cranny, and they are being filled by jobs for the thousands of newly graduated young Mongolians, with dreams to leave their country for an even better life. But why is child care being left behind? Why is the concept of raising your children in a good environment, nearby and without risks such an separate issue for our development leaders today? Surely it’s all tied up together?

Nurseries in the office building, or within the office if they’re accommodating enough, or one nearby a concentrated amount of offices in the city…it’s all possible with enough planning and a genuine concern for this growing trend of leaving your children behind or resorting to less than happy situation. I only hope that it’s not too late for development to keep striding forward with social issues holding its hands.

This was of course a non-issue for me a year ago because how we raise our children in Mongolia was not our main cause for concern, or what we’re offered as choice for child care. I never want to  burden my parents or aunts and uncles and distant relatives with child care but if I had no choice, no money, no Baljka (our lovely nanny) our situation becomes the normative situation. Here’s our lovely twosome:

 

Mint that turned out to be basil.

I had been experimenting with growing some herbs, starting with mint, on my windowsill. But what I thought was mint turned out to be basil-discovered only recently when it grew big enough to emit its basily smell in the air. Oh well, better buy some parmesan and pine nuts-it may be the summer when I make my own pesto!

Quaile eggs!

Strolling through Saruul indoor market I stumbled upon quaile eggs! They were oh so fresh and perfect poached on some rye bread, yum. Shame I had spent the last of my cash n some, now questionable, bacon.

Saruul is great for fresh fruit, veg and meat. But best of all, for a baking enthusiast like me, there's a stall (more like a small shop with its windows and doors) that has all the baking ingredients I can ask for. Baking powder, cocoa powder, vanilla, almond, lemon essence and all the sugars (brown, demerera, caster, icing).

And to make things even more enjoyabe, they have large trolleys on wheels! Perfect for someone who is a avid grocery shopper but not so goo when once over shops and has to face 5 flights of stairs later...

One more role to my name...

I recently became an auntie, Tseveen an uncle and Arvis with a new cousin! The specifics of such a role hasn't quite been made clear yet, and to date all I got to do was carry around lamb broth and milk tea at the hospital, buy a BABY BOY balloon, and source some pretty valuable formula milk that cost a fortune. But so excited all the same! So I guess all it takes to be a good auntie these days is to take care of the hunger and the amusement issue, for the time being. Perhaps for a while yet...

First hello from our little family, the day the little one and mummy left hospital.

How not to go crazy

At this given time in my life, my baby is the biggest thing in my existence. He's the core of my being and the reason why I wake up at 6.30am every morning (I know its not that early, but for an avid sleeplover, with a facebook group to boot, this is a big deal).
However I have finally come to realise how important it is to learn to actively prevent yourself from going crazy. Crazy meaning, from staying at home all day with no actual speaking adult to converse with, crazy from forgetting to eat anything all day then gulping down half the contents of your fridge upon realisation, crazy from not remembering why I have a shoe and a screwdriver in my hands, and crazy from constantly questioning what I'm doing and whether it has any value or meaning.
The hardest thing was to see what was happening and deciding to do something about it. I was quietly fighting a one sided battle-you never win because there's no enemy, just a lost cause. It can be tough to get yoursef out of a mindset where you think you've been abandoned, or not worth doing anything trivial yet positive for.
Every action was with purpose and automatic-clothes must be washed, baby must be fed, flat must be cleaned, I must be cheerful. Nothing wrong with that but the joy of just reading a chapter of a book you love, baking cupcakes because you happened to have all the ingredients at hand, painting your toenails and hanging up a photo was almost lost.
Every effort must be made to retain some sort of your previous life, that's what I learned. No matter how tough it seems, or you can't be bothered, you're worried about asking someone for help, or are too proud for help, you can't be making excuses to yourself. Update that Facebook status, download that new song you heard, cut your own fringe and call a friend you haven't spoken to in a while.
Having resources is always helpful, but not everyone is as lucky as I am, where there's a swimming pool at my disposal, and the money to pay for a pretty damn good Pilates class twice a week. Caring sisters in law who drop by once in a while and pick up the baby, helpful ex-colleagues, and a most involved and understanding parents. Not bragging, just grateful. And ofcourse a husband who's supportive is a must! Making friends is refreshing and stimulating. And the occasional coffee and a doughnut is like a secret weapon we all need up our sleeves.

So, here's my way of surviving motherhood. It does feel like a survival from time time, but a huge burst of joy most of the time.