Grandma Pabst

Giving her a birthday kiss

Tuesday was my grandmother's funeral. Probably the toughest thing about being a 'traveler' is that I miss many weddings, births and now, deaths. My grandmother was a wonderful person. My brothers and I spent many an afternoon after school at her house while mom was at work. Those are some of my fondest memories of my childhood. From grandma I became a big fan of peanut-butter-and-honey sandwiches and I've tried for decades to replicate her Coffee Cake recipe with only little success. She was 98 and had not been well for a long time. It is with sadness but also relief that she doesn't have to suffer any more.

In Mongolia, one tradition is to give people sweet rice with raisins when someone dies. This practice of generosity is to give the deceased more merit, so they might have a better rebirth. In a society that ate foods largely from animals, any kind of meat (killing) wasn't seen as appropriate for this. And since other foods like fruits and vegetables are scares, rice became the best choice. I bought what was needed and the kitchen staff was kind enough to prepare enough for all the staff. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to receive this gift on behalf of my grandmother.

We'll miss ya' Grandma.

What temp do eyeballs freeze?

-37F mostly cloudy = wow, fast approaching the magical -40F temp, got up on time seven-dark-thirty, no school kids on the sidewalk because of break. Ran more in the beginning - walking didn't seem like a good idea but by the end I was really dragging. Thoughts going through my head "At what temp do your eye balls freeze?

My friend Deb wrote on my Facebook page, "why would anyone want to live there?" in response to my post about my morning run with a temperature of minus 37F. I guess we all live where we were born, mostly.

It's strange, temperatures such as -30F and -40F, but they seem to strike fear more in the brain than what is warranted. Don't get me wrong, those temperatures are cold, very cold. And they can be deadly if you aren't careful.

But, as I've found out, I can still do the same things I do in relatively warmer weather such as run for exercise. In fact, when I run, I really don't wear that much clothing; a wicking long-sleeve shirt, a light fleece sweater, and a breathable rain jacket. My pants are some old rain pants that have lost their waterproofing. To this I add some gloves, a stocking cap and a neck gaiter. Granted, I'm not out long for my run, maybe 25 minutes, but it all seems to be enough.

Maybe the brain just gets confused because we don't get the same visual cues of winter here. I mean there is nothing much different outside between 0 degrees and -40 degrees. Too dry for snow and no moisture means very little ice. No icicles dangling from the roof, no driveway to shovel. So, all the brain has to go on is that little thing called a thermometer.

But I have no doubt that if Mongolians would visit Kansas City, my hometown, in the middle of summer with its high temperatures and 100% humidity, they would ask "why would anyone want to live here?" [laugh]

Mongols have survived here and even thrived (remember that guy called Gengis Khan) for thousands of years. So, I guess they've gotten used to it. Even me, while I won't say I love the weather, after three winters I don't really let it bother me. At least mentally.

So, I'll leave you as I watch the sun come up through my window covered with ice on the inside, with warm thoughts in my heart. [smile]

Stupa Cafe to the City Dump

Today a group of us from the Center took a drive to the City Dump. Our mission was to distribute food to the poor who made their meager living sifting through the trash. A sponsor had donated enough money for the Stupa Cafe to make 500 khuushuur which the cafe is famous for (our very own Erka won an award at the New Years Party for her khuushuur).

Khuushuur (Mongolian: хуушууp [xʊ́ːʃʊr]) is a kind of meat pastry or dumpling popular in Mongolia, similar to Russian chiburekki. The meat, either beef or mutton, is ground up and mixed with onion (or garlic) salt and other spices. The cook rolls the dough into circles, then places the meat inside the dough and folds the dough in half, creating a flat half-circular pocket. The cook then closes the pockets by pressing the edges together. After making the pockets, the cook fries them in oil until the dough turns a golden brown. The khuushuur is then served hot, and can be eaten by hand.

Erka worked late last night and came in at 4AM to make the khuushuur so they'd still be warm fresh when we delivered them. Unfortunately, none of the staff had been to the dump before but after a few quick phone calls, we were on our way with good directions to the edge of town near the power station.

In one way it was difficult to distribute the food because most of the people surrounded the trucks dumping trash and there was no way to drive the car out there. So, we just parked the car and started handing out bags of two warm khuushuur to those near the car. Soon many came running from the trash trucks. Despite the cold temperatures of -15F, there were a lot of people.

I was more amazed at their quiet reserve. Even though they crowded around the car, no one pushed or got aggressive or greedy. It probably took less than three or four minutes to hand out all the khuushuur. I think a few people were missed but most who came to the car got something.

People running from the trash trucks

People crowding around the car

Boloroo hands out bags of khuushuur

With more donations,
we could help these people and others like them,
especially during the bone-chilling winters.

Dailymile.com 2010 Report

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