no mourning in farewells

we do not and should not mourn farewells, according to nestie. indeed. we celebrate instead the encounters with people who cross our paths and leave imprints  in our lives.  

this july, we said  our hasta la vistas  to four friends  who left mongolia -   three filipinos and an american who has become part of our pinoy community. 

Joe - italiano (huh?)…came as vso bahaginan vol… turned consultant… blogger, mover, social glue… ever-reliable support provider, multi talented and inventive cook, gardener, interior designer and challenging (self-ascribed description); 

Chito - of ulaanbaatar hotel, whom i met only once by nestie’s kitchen window sill, where we shared an ashtray and casual conversation, a gentleman ;

Marge - so much energy and punk packed in a such a small frame, has been in mongolia for years as vso volunteer, in the course of which she met william, then both decided to see what else is out there in the world. 

William - more than a marge appendage, english teacher who does mean twists and turns on the dance floor,

we will miss them surely. yet, the pinoys have become world travellers… seekers… we contend with the realities of diaspora and impermanence. people come and go but  they definitely enrich our lives  as we do theirs.  

 william and marge

 “pearls and ties” farewell party for marge and william at strings

pinoys in mongolia

there’s a smattering of us here. altogether less than 70 maybe, about 40 of whom are in the capital.  

the pinoys who made it to the kambingan week-end 

there’s the development set  -  vso/bahaginan folks (glenn, marge, riezel, ruel, joltz, gecca), delia with unfpa, gerry and terence with adra, and myself.  there are those in the private/corporate sector - ricky, chito, tere, nestie, and joe whom we recently bid goodbye to but hope that he’d be back. 

   vso-bahaginan;  nancy and gerry 

angie and ming are here as house managers of canadian and indian households respectively.  nancy and marnet are accompanying spouses but certainly far from being bored housewives.  grace teaches business in a private college.  the 6-piece pinoy band at strings disco-resto straight from boracay gives us reason to jiggle and jaggle on friday or saturday nights.

angie and edwin (not a couple-yet?) 

pinoy bishop wence padilla leads the catholic community, together with fr, ronald, cicm, from silay and sr. espe.   then there are too the missionaries from different protestant denominations whom i havent met yet, as well others in mining and construction companies. 

a well-bonded hodgepodge of sorts who find every chance to get together.  this sunday is kambingan week-end- to savour various kambing-based filipino dishes, e.g. pinapaitan, kaldereta, kilawin.  lechon and chicken week ends are also in the offing. 

 kitchen beauties - selee, joy, sr.espy,mmy ming, marge

grown adept at finding substitutes for unavailable ingredients, they’d cook sinigang with spinach for lack of kangkong, or use the juice of korean dilis  to flavor a dish mimicking pinakbet.  i learned to make embotido using minced canned pineapple and dill pickles in lieu of sweet pickle relish.  someone magically produced buko salad during the independence day lunch. amazing in a country where not a single coconut tree is found. 

sunday last, a bunch stood as ninongs and ninangs to the impromptu blessing of my flat- house of joy mongolia chapter -  and a cap to the series of  farewells for joe.  central dish was dinuguan made from german blood sausage.  o te! 

castles in the air

i kept humming this don mclean tune all throughout the trip.  four days now since monday.  we were on the road to darkhan and selenge, two northernmost provinces, bordering on russia. we were going through the most fantabulous scenery — a wide expanse of lush, luscious sea of green as far as the eyes can see, broken by gentle slopes in the distance, framed by mighty mountains farther.  

been looking for that music for  ages. when finally a friend sent the file,  one whole night i listened to it non stop.  one of my most requested, which noel always obliged to sing. 

still stings. because it reminds of the lussa good times? maybe.  but not just.  the “just”  i couldnt quite put my fingers into. 

then it dawned on me.  as the car raced through the road, along the vast grasslands, i could almost see my soul surging on ahead.   sometimes in great speed, sometimes in dance, sometimes with a pensive gait.  –

could very well represent how i am.  a free spirit that resists to live and be fettered by traditional rules and conventions.  as it is  with relationships.  commitments are percieved to be potentially problematic, especially when independence and the passion to serve appear to be threatened. 

someone said mongolia grows on you.  seems that he’s right.  the music of its people, conjuring images of a melancholic herder pouring out his heart in joy or in pain or simply in thanksgiving, has gotten into me.  i’m connecting. different from cambodia. but in a way that i could better relate because the land and the people inspire one’s becoming and letting be.

free spirit regardless… i still appreciate an anchor and a nest to come home to.  just as the hawks and eagles of the mongolian wilds and steppes do.   no matter how high and far they soar through the clear blue skies.

Don McLean - Castles in the air

smitten

he’s sharp and smart. gentle and compassionate. confident.  firm and assertive if need be, but not in a cocky way.  a shy easy smile and soulful eyes. within minutes upon encounter i was smitten.  very. the guy i want to walk  home, hug and cuddle with.  what what what? me me me?  who who who?

Ptum Bayaar, that’s who.  this 6-year old monk, third son of a tailor, keeper of the keys at Amarbayashgalan monastery in Selenge aimag, second youngest among the monks in the monastery.

he came to the monastery at age four.  his interest was piqued by a monk-friend from the same place. he asked his parents if he can go.   they agreed and felt blessed.  his parents and two elder brothers live in Ulaanbataar.  he doesnt miss them a lot because he gets  to visit him every so often, and vice-versa.  

he’s tasked to open the temple doors and entertain the tourists, which he does with flair.  being with his monk-brothers and learning from them are what he likes most.  he is resolute in his resolve to become a good monk for the longest time.

done with herding the tourists. time to collect 3,000 tugriks from the foreign visitors.  Bayaar hasn’t learned to write yet and we helped him write out the receipts.  with mindful care, he put the money in a plastic bag, which will be turned over to an older monk.   

i patted his cheeks and told him that we hope to see him still there if and when we have the chance to come back, maybe next year or several years hence.  and that we will pray for him… that he will continue to be blessed, that he will become a good monk as he hopes to be.

he took off with a swagger to tell a lingering tourist that its time to close and that pointing the camera straight at the altar is not allowed.  

my eyes followed him wistfully. ancient wise spirit in a child’s body…. 

dang’s piece

It doesnt interest me what you do for a living

I want to know what you ache for,

And if you dare to dream

Of meeting your heart’s longing

 It doesnt interest me how old you are

I want to know if you will risk

Looking like a fool for love,

For your dream

For the adventure of being alive

It doesnt interest me what planets

Are squaring your moon

I want to know if you have touched

The center of your own sorrow,

If you have been opened by life’s betrayal

Or have become shriveled and closed from

Fear of further pain, mine or your own

Without moving to hide it

Or fake it or fix it

I want to know what sustains you,

From the inside, when all else falls

Away.   I want to know if you can be

Alone with yourself and if you

Truly like the company you keep

in the empty moment..

                                                
one of daden’s favorite pieces from Oriah Mountain Dreamer. with a few adjustments. 

daden — whose heart found a reason to sing after [ perhaps despite?] the tribulation.[daw].  and mike, who is still longing.  and US, who may be in the course of discovering.