Parades, Cows and Coffee

Over the past few weeks I have been gradually settling in to life in the city. We've established something of a routine: either riding the trolley (slower but cheaper than a bus) or walking into the city center in the morning, working for a few hours, eating lunch in the student cafeteria (can't beat the price and tasty too!), then working a couple more hours before heading home for the evening. Slight variations occur to this pattern, for example when I gave a presentation on map libraries last week to a group of thirty Mongolian librarians, but for the most part the days follow a settled rhythm. Yet despite this general sameness on paper (or screen, rather), each day little things surprise me and help distinguish one day from the others.

This past Tuesday we were walking to work along Peace Avenue--the main street in Ulaanbaatar--when I began to hear marching band music. Looking down the alley to my right, sure enough, there was a small marching band and a host of other people festively dressed in red and white, some in fuzzy red costumes. They flowed confidently out of the alley directly into Peace Avenue, stopping traffic while they marched down the center of Ulaanbaatar's busiest road during rush hour. Since we needed to cross there anyways, we tagged along in the wake of the parade's momentum, alongside other ordinary pedestrians that happened to be going to the same way as the parade.

It turns out that this was a parade with a cause, to raise awareness and public participation in blood drives. Hence the people dressed up as giant fuzzy drops of blood and the plethora of red and white. It was a completely unexpected bit of cheer on my morning commute.

Another tale (tail?) from my pedestrian commuting came from my walk home one evening. Our apartment complex stands on the opposite side of a river from downtown proper; therefore we have to cross the Peace Bridge to get back and forth. Looking down a few days ago from the bridge to the grassy riparian area below I was startled to see a herd of cows munching away. The contrast of the cows' green setting with the road, under-construction petrol station and towering buildings rising behind them made for an irresistible photo op.

Finally, the other afternoon after a long day on the computer searching book titles I decided to take an hour-long break before the weekly Thursday evening lecture. This past week has been a rainy one, with mostly sunny days punctuated by afternoon and evening thunderstorms. Therefore, although as I left the building it was just sprinkling, five minutes into my walk the sprinkles turned into a legitimate downpour. Luckily I was carrying an umbrella with me so my rainy ramble was pretty fun for a while. The puddles covering the sidewalk and street, however, were getting more enormous by the minute. When I walked by a little French cafe with covered open-air seating I grabbed the opportunity to get out of the rain and puddles for a while, rewarding myself for a hard day's work and capping off my rainy adventure with a picture-perfect latte. I finished off my break by sipping contentedly while watching the world traipse by my little table.