Wednesday, November 26, 2008

If God didn't intend us to be vegetarians he wouldn't have made soybeans (9/10)

Mongolians, as a group, tend to be good at horseback riding, wrestling, and doing absolutely anything with a bundle of wire and some duck tape. They are also good at languages; their English pronunciation is much better than that of the Chinese or Koreans. They are not, however, known for their fine cuisine.
Two of the church members asked me if I wanted to eat horshur today. Horshur are fried dough pockets stuffed with meat, potatoes, or boiled cabbage. I like horshur, so I said I would go. I was somewhat dismayed when, instead of going upstairs to the school kitchen, we went to the restaurant across the street.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!! NO! NO! NO! NO! AAAAAAAAAAghhbleeeeee......-faint-

-That kind of somewhat dismayed.
We started the meal off with a thermos of dovestay tsai. Dovestay tsai is salted milk tea with a thick layer of melted butter on top. I really don't mind dovestay tsai, in fact I enjoy it's odd familiarity.

Brandon and I have noticed that Mongolians drink boiling tea immediately without blowing on it. We had always wondered how on earth they accomplish this. I think I've finally figured it out. I watched as the people I was with drank their tea and noticed that they slurped quite energetically. I think that they draw the tea so far up the cup with their slurping that it loses most of it's heat on the way to their mouths.

No, slurping is not rude here.

The horshur arrived just as we were finishing our tea. I got a plate of three of the biggest horshur I have ever seen stuffed with mutton and onions. I began to eat them, trying not to think about oil and melted sheep fat dripping out the bottom and onto my plate.

SSSSSSTHLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!!

One of the church members sucked the melted mutton fat and hot oil out of her horshur as if she were trying to get phlegm from high in her nasal cavity. I slowly put my horshur down.

SLUUUURP!! slurp slurp slurp SLUUUURP.

The other two joined her. I looked at my horshur, and suddenly found myself wondering how anyone could possibly think of "marbling" as a positive thing in meat. The dovestay tsai was settling poorly too. The milk that was used had been too little milk and too much cow sweat.

SLUUURP!

They looked at me quizzically, wondering why I was not eating. I picked the horshur up again, pictured things that didn't involve dead sheep bits, and ate it bite by bite.

I then looked at the other two horshur, weighed my rising bile against my (nonexistent) social standards, and decided that if they asked I would just tell them I'm a vegetarian (which I am).

They did ask.

I explained that no one in my family eats meat. This confused them greatly. They asked why my family couldn't eat meat, as if being a vegetarian was a genetic disease. I explained that we COULD eat meat, and sometimes did, we just generally chose not to. This too confused them greatly.
This is why I love the language barrier. Both talking and listening are optional. If I want to be understood I can be. Sometimes I have to act like a complete fool to do so; using terribly constructed sentences, hand motions and illustrations, but in the end I generally get my point across. If I really just want to drop the conversation, all I have to do is shrug my shoulders and smile. IT'S GREAT! I should learn fluent German... or something, so that I can pretend not to speak English when I'm in the US.
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Being a missionary means clearing away everything you've become, and starting over as what you were meant to be.

2 comments:

Dee said...

I just talked at length with doggee. She says that Maa and her mother wanted to give you horshur recently and totally failed to connect with you. It wasn't clear if there was a missunderstanding or what. But, since they failed to get you to their house, Maa tried to bring it to your apt and you weren't home. THAT is where you can get some GOOD vegetarian horshur. Call Maa (she speaks enough english now, her cell is 99740358) Doggee's mom made one of the best vegetarian meals that I had in Mongolia....GO FOR IT!

Milton Scott said...

It is not duck tape. It is duct tape. "Duct". It is called that because it was invented to wrap the seams of metal ducts and prevent the hot or cold air from inside the duct from being outside the duct. Duct tape. Duct....tape. Not duck.