Escargot for the Eyes (8/10)

The city of Ulaanbaatar isn't very pretty, at least during the winter. The spectrum is reduced to shades of grey and brown, and the skyline becomes obscured by a thick haze of coal smoke. The trees lose their leaves, but snow fails to fall because the climate is semi arid. Fashion struggles bravely on into late November, but eventually gives up and concedes the simple truth that forty below is indeed cold. By January everyone looks pretty much the same.

So, I won't say that the city is a feast for the eyes. I will, however, say that it is downright weird.

A few days ago I decided to make a fuss until someone unlocked the display of deodorant at the supermarket and let me buy some. I communicated my desire to buy the deodorant, then stood there and waited. After about ten minutes one of the cashiers was persuaded to leave her post and get the fabled deodorant case key. She disappeared into a dark closet and came out with a bundle of keys so large and disorganised that it resembled a lap dog cuddled in her arms. I stared in disbelief as she began going through the keys one by one, scrutinizing each as if she had not seen them in a while.

After several unsuccessful attempts she succeeded in finding the correct key. I selected the deodorant that I wanted (two of them, to be on the safe side), and she took them out of the case. She then took the caps off and demonstrated that they were both sealed.
This action struck me as somewhat odd. I had never considered the possibility that anyone would WANT to mess with my deodorant. What's the point?

She handed the two sticks of deodorant to me, and I continued my shopping. As I moved through the aisles, I noticed I was being shadowed. A second sales person was following me, and watching closely to make sure that I didn't try to shoplift the deodorant I had just gotten.

When I checked out the cashier's hands moved quickly, until she came to the deodorant. At that point she paused, hesitating. Suddenly she rushed over to another checkout and got a small bag. She placed the deodorant inside it's own special bag, placed that bag gently inside the larger grocery bag, and continued scanning my items.

The entire scene was escargot for the eyes.

Another odd scene met my eyes today. Brandon and I tried to head across the street to a place that has table tennis and pool. All the tables were full, and the wait was long, so we headed back. The traffic was thick and steady, so after waiting for a while I headed out into the thick of it. The idea behind this strategy is that cars generally avoid pedestrians, and though there are no lanes they tend to move in relatively straight lines.

In the middle of the road (which, if it had lanes, would have three) a bus and a mini van came towards me. I stood still, so that they would pass around me. They had other ideas. For some odd reason, they both decided they would like to occupy the spot of asphalt upon which I stood. In a matter of seconds the gap between the bus and the van narrowed from five feet to about one foot. They both honked as they barreled towards me, but I couldn't go forward or back. I stood there, struck by the madness of it all. Buses should go around pedestrians, not aim for them like kamikaze steel monsters bouldering haphazardly across the landscape. At the last possible moment the van stopped, putting a halt to the three way game of chicken. I was allowed to live. I walked in front of the van, onto the median, and prepared to cross the next three lanes of traffic.




One of my students showed her paintings for the term project on hobbies. I asked her if I could post this.

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