Yesterday was our Mongolian teacher’s 62nd birthday. The day before was the first day we had seen him since we got back to Erdenet so we said we wanted to stop by his house at 5pm to drop off a little present for him. Naively we figured this would be a quick happy birthday and gift drop off (some almonds from France which he adores and a cake with his name on it), but as with the majority of visits to a Mongolian’s home, a few minutes turned into a few hours. We arrived to find that two other teachers from his school were present and cooking up giant pots of Mongolian “banz” (small meat packets boiled in milk tea) and other delicacies. There were many toasts and unending attempts at filling us to bursting (who’s birthday was it?). We found out that this was the first birthday party that our teacher had ever celebrated (it’s not cultural) and he had even forgotten that it was his birthday because they count by years, not necessarily by an exact date. So we ate and ate and talked and laughed and ate and drank special Mongolian berry juice and ate and ate…
Natsagdorj (our teacher), here’s to your 62nd and 1st birthday!
