Peace Corps Site Visit

This might be a little boring, but I think I spend more time talking about peeing in strange places, bus rides, and food than I do about my actual job as a PCV, and I want to rectify that. It's not the most fascinating subject, but here goes....
Today was my meeting with the Peace Corps liaison person who stops by every 6 months to check on us. Basically it’s an hour-long conversation about me, which I find very uncomfortable. It was 3 counterparts, the director, the training manager, and the PC liaison. If I concentrated really hard, I could follow what was going on (though my contributions to the discussion were in English, as my speaking skills are pretty much negligible). It was really tiring, though!
Summary of the meeting:
-The resource room that the previous volunteer got funding for and which we recently fixed up was declared “goy” (nice). Nevertheless, the PC liaison explained that they couldn’t fund the project my school wants me to do (get LCD TVs for all the classrooms).
-The meeting itself was not bad (they made no comment about my appearance this time!) And they said they were lucky to have such a good volunteer. So that’s nice. My director and training manager are busy people, so I generally leave them alone and they leave me alone. But it’s good to know that if they do notice me, they approve. I've heard of other volunteers' meetings lasting upwards of 4 hours, but mine was short and easy. The PC liaison kept asking me if I had issues or problems I needed to bring up with my supervisors, and I thought really hard about it, but I really don’t. I think I’m actually unusual in that respect—I definitely got the best placement possible.
-My director also mentioned that she wants me to go camping this summer with her family. I may have talked about her kids here before—she has 3 in their early twenties, 2 of which are fluent in English (one went to school in Turkey, one in China). I like the family a lot, but I hate camping, so I’m sort of hoping she’ll forget about it.
-We discussed starting an English club, so I might actually get to do that (maybe starting this semester, but maybe not until next school year). It will be more work, but I think it would be fun. The only problem is that the English resource room’s heat doesn’t work, which is kind of an issue in Mongolia.
-The PC liaison also asked me about my summer plans. My answer was, “Ummm….” I actually haven’t thought about it at all. But since I won’t be working at school for at least half of the summer, I need to find other projects (most teachers do summer camps). I’ll have to figure that out soon.
2 days before the “Peace Corps Woman” came to inspect my apartment, my CPs remembered that we bought shades for my windows several months ago at PC’s recommendation, but never installed them. So one CP’s father, husband, and brother worked on it, and I felt really bad because it took FOREVER. I could hardly watch them put 2 chairs on top of each other and stand on them, then fix an electric drill by hammering an axe into it (don’t ask). I really didn’t want to be responsible for someone becoming paralyzed or losing a few fingers. While they worked, my 2 CPs walked around my apartment going through my stuff. They come to my apartment every once in a while, but I usually keep them in the kitchen. Between what I packed and what my family has sent me, I have quite a bit of stuff from America. All of which is absolutely fascinating, apparently. They particularly enjoyed my scale (which is not American, but I guess not something most people invest in), and everyone took a turn stepping on it (with their coats and boots on, which I would never do). They tried to get me to join in, but since everyone else weighed about 100 lbs, I politely refused. I know if they had hard evidence for my gigantic proportions, they would feel the need to share it with everyone (not to be mean—they just think it’s interesting and body weight here is not considered a shameful secret). I’m way too American to not be embarrassed by that, though. Anyway, they really liked my gadgets and I gave some stuff away, so maybe they didn’t mind having to help me out.
They were talking about me in Mongolian and I overheard one CP telling the other, "No really, she's never been married. She told me." I confirmed that this was true and she was very surprised: "Why??" I said, "I'm 22!" They both chorused, "So?!" I've worked with her for 8 months, wouldn't it have come up in conversation if I were divorced and had kids in America?
I’ve realized I don’t talk much about my actual work on this blog. I guess I don’t consider it particularly interesting. I pretty much spend my days preparing and teaching English classes, which is not very exotic or exciting. My job is always getting better, though, since after being here almost a full school year I now know my students better and know what different classes will enjoy doing, what they’re levels of English are, etc. They also behave a lot better now that they know me and like me. Although they do assume that since I don’t speak their language, I also don’t understand anything else. Some of the boys have a habit of trying to take pictures of me with their cell phones (I have no idea why—I guess playing with phones is more fun than paying attention in class). When I tell them to cut it out, they act genuinely shocked that I knew what they were doing. The same goes for punching each other. I’m not blind, I just don’t speak Mongolian!
I do the same thing, though. If I’m with another volunteer, I’ll speak English without censoring myself, under the assumption that no one can understand me. For example, if we’re in line at the ATM, I might say, “This guy’s trying to cut me, isn’t he? Don’t even think about it, dude. I’m not afraid to use my elbows.” One of these days someone in my vicinity is going to speak English and it’s going to be really embarrassing. Another volunteer was telling me that she often assumes that since people can’t understand her speaking, they also won’t understand other things, like her singing to herself or belching. Pretty sure those are universally recognized as weird, though. I know enough Mongolian to go shopping (food words are important to me). A lot of verbal communication is required because almost all stores have everything behind the counter. I always dread shopping, though, because invariably everyone in the store stops what they're doing to watch the white girl speak Mongolian.
Anyway, now it’s back to work for another semester. Coming home from the capital is a little depressing. I bought groceries, but I can only bring a little bit with me on the bus. So they’re already almost gone and I’ll have to wait for the summer to get more good food! Tonight the new Dutch volunteers are cooking for us, though. I don’t know what Dutch food entails, but it’s gotta be better than what I cook for myself!