Peace Corps MONGOLIA Maverick

This holiday double-feature takes us through the collaboration between the Peace Corps, KOICA and JICA, development agencies of the U.S., Korea and Japan, respectively. Following the project, I continue with the next day’s stories, as networks grew and relationships built. We also saw an opera for Chinggis Khaan’s birthday! So that was exciting. From these, we reach the beginning of Advent. 

Chinggis Khaan’s Birthday

On Thanksgiving Day, November 24, I joined a group of about a dozen of our Peace Corps Trainees on a trip out of town, to a modern ger camp in Terelj. Our journey began before dawn, in the cold outside the pink Socialist-era Drama Theatre. The temperature was -25°C (-13°F). A bus would collect us from outside the green Grand Irish Pub. 

While we waited, we had a chance to warm up inside the office of KOICA (Korea International Cooperation Agency). Their organization had sponsored the mentoring project for youths living in the Chingeltei District of Ulaanbaatar (UB). I recalled having just been in Chingeltei earlier that week for school visits that Monday. The joint project with us Peace Corps Volunteers was to “provide opportunities for cultural exchange with other countries for underprivileged youth, [...] promote KOICA in relation to the resumption of the dispatch of KOICA volunteers in Mongolia and raise positive awareness of volunteer activities.” 

The students would have the day off because Mongolia observes Chinggis Khaan’s birthday as a national holiday. It’s been celebrated since 2OI2 according to the lunar calendar on the first day of the first winter month. It typically lands around American Thanksgiving, celebrated on November’s fourth Thursday. That said, they don’t always align. 

After the wait, we PCVs hopped aboard the coach bus with KOICA staff for the journey. Along the way, my M3I friend Rowan and I got to talk to KOICA staff, whose roles were equivalent to our American Peace Corps staff. I enjoyed meeting fellow development workers and hearing their perspectives on life in Mongolia from Korea. To my surprise, they had plenty of opportunities to speak Korean because so many Mongols study the language! 

Along the ride from the city center, the windows frosted over as they tend to. We used the practice of taking a credit card or ID to the window to scrape aside such frost to see out. After leaving the city, driving east, we eventually descended a large, winding hill past an ovoo and crossed a bridge. I’d often treat this area as the entrance into Terelj, though it wasn’t a formal one. 

An International Holiday Venue

We arrived to the Terelj site. After everyone had disembarked, we got a group photo of all the volunteers. Then we ascended the hill and steps to enter a massive ger-shaped building.

The buildling remind me of the dining hall in Chinggisiin Khuree, where my Peace Corps cohort and I had first arrived in Mongolia. In this building though, we PCVs were setting up among folks from many nations. International Volunteer Day was coming up, too, on December 5. KOICA brought in us Peace Corps folks alongside JICA (Japan International Cooperation Agency) to make the day. 

A Peace Corps staff member came to help with language facilitation. It was the recent Mongolian instructor of M3O Eric and me, Sumya! Sumya mentioned to us how the cloud-like decorations hanging above us were like those of her childhood in preparation for New Year’s, decorated much like Christmas from the socialist period onward. It was nice to have context behind the light blue and white crafted puffs above us.

Shortly after we arrived, our groups from the U.S., Korea, Japan and Mongolia together received matching grey KOICA hoodies. KOICA always had that drip, I remembered from IST 2OI9. So cool to be part of the action, too! Then I wandered the floor to meet folks and help out. It turns out Eric and I weren’t alone among evacuated returned volunteers, either. An older JICA gentleman was among us!

Day of Service

Before long, the children who’d participate arrived. The table group with which I was paired had a kind JICA nurse, a bubbly KOICA volunteer and half a dozen adorable kids. It turns out that the KOICA in our group was the same eager gal who’d served me hot cocoa shortly after I arrived. It was “No Brand,” the same simple yellow products I saw throughout the huge Emart. Eventually I’d adjust to the fact that Emart is a Korean chain with Korean brands. 

I enjoyed how despite just meeting my fellow volunteers, we worked together to bring joy to the kids. At some points, since the JICA volunteer only knew Japanese and Mongolian, she would say something to me in Mongolian that I would then translate to our KOICA volunteer in English. Fun teamwork! 

Each delegation had something to present. The JICA volunteers taught us to fold origami sumos then how to make them do battle. After demarcating the ‘ring,’ competitors simply tap their fingers against the surface to cause their combatants to waddle at each other. The fight reminded me of how Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots seem to fight. The KOICA volunteers taught us to make weighted hacky-sacks from paper, stones and rubber bands. 

We Americans hosted a little dance party amid our regional presentations, including my bit about the Southwest. The Northeastern presentations reminded me of Boston, the Red Sox and New York, too. We Americans really pumped out the energy! Our colleagues complimented me and my friends for our moves. It was a good vibe! 

Around lunchtime, we enjoyed a tasty meal like those of Terelj’s Red Rock Resort, where my fellow PCVs and I had IST 2OI9. Afterward, our groups headed outside into the snow for a photo competition. My co-volunteers were much more creative than me with staging cool squad poses. Nonetheless, I enjoyed our gleeful grins. Our team hadn’t won the prize this year, but we’d won the joy of a good day. 

Before the event’s end, students heard motivational life advice from a presenter who walked people through the past decade or so of autobiography and testimonials. I hope the presentation helped kids to see some directions where they could go in life. As for us volunteers, we got to know each other better and resolved to hang out sometime. It was a good day. 

I don’t recall much from the bus ride back probably because I was asleep. I needed that. We rode back from Terelj across the bridge, back up the winding hill and surely hours later back into downtown UB. Traffic was as rough as usual, but at least we had each other. 

Thanksgiving 2O22

Unlike my last Peace Corps Thanksgiving, during which staff had sent all our sites turkeys, we celebrated in UB this year. That evening, we Peace Corps folks reconvened at the Star’s community center, where we’d celebrated Hallowe’en. Since we were all in UB, staff had generously chosen to throw us a Thanksgiving dinner alongside a committee of Trainees. They gave us good vibes!

We each received cool standing nametags welcoming us to the event and noting where to sit. Those of us from the KOICA event still had our hoodies, easily identifying us. I enjoyed getting to spend more time with the new Trainees since M3O Eric and I had split off to resume our service. 

While there wasn’t turkey, the chicken equivalent was great. And my, the pies were wonderful! At the night’s end, Peace Corps staff sent us home with plenty of trays of leftovers. So nice to have salads, too. 

Fourth Peace Corps Anniversary

The next day was Black Friday 2O22 and thus marked the fourth anniversary since in 2OI8 when I accepted my invitation to serve in the Peace Corps. Admittedly I hadn’t expected much to occur. I had a meeting scheduled with my local children’s speaking club counterpart, a Mongolian language lesson with my tutor and a sports evening then show afterward. Yet the day had surprises in store! 

My counterpart from the children’s speaking club indeed came to visit my office to co-plan our afternoon’s session. When we were walking from the library after that club session, we chatted a bit. At some point she slipped into Mongolian, and we chatted about my trip to Övörhangai. (She was from its neighboring Arhangai.) She also asked if I’d seen “Wakanda.” I felt amused. I felt like she asked me if I’d seen a country. I’m used to calling the film “Black Panther,” though that was indeed “Wakanda Forever.” I saw it, yeah—highly recommend. 

Afterward, I headed to my language lesson in the tower west of the Square. Afterward, my tutor Adonis helped me to find where I could get my first UB haircut. (After I’d moved to Erdenet, fall 2OI9, I simply got my cuts done by a community member after my first barber visit.) We’d mentioned the word “paradise,” which I remembered from Sunday translates to “divaajin.” It sounded to me like the word “divine!” 

The haircut cost more than my friend foretold, but he helped pick up the difference. Afterward, I continued on from there to visit the nearby Secondary School #21. The department of education was having our sports night. So my friend pointed me in the right direction. 

Unexpected

When I reached the school, a young woman who seemed to be the designated door guard asked something like, “Хашаа агаа?” when I approached. I fumbled through some words to explain I came to play sports with my colleagues. I also mimed bumping a volleyball. “Өө, заал, гэх юм уу?” she replied. Yup, that where I was trying to remember. Anyway, she let me by. 

I reached the gym without issue. Then I found my colleages weren’t there. So I sent a photo in our English group chat to confirm I showed up. I also implied I got a haircut, hehe. I checked my other messages while I waited and felt pleased to see an Honors College Student Council officer offered to fill my Community Advisory Board’s secretary vacancy. That left me hopeful! Still, it seemed like my colleagues weren’t coming to the gym that night. 

On a grim note, I also read the news that our cohort’s first Early Termination (ET) would occur. ETs always feel painful, for they mean the loss of a Peace Corps community member. I thought about this for some time on my walk home. I returned to my apartment for a nap. 

Adventure

I awoke to “Lush Life” by Zara Larsson, followed not long after by “Sunday Morning” (Maroon 5) and “Stardust” (New Politics) as I got ready. Turns out the person I was supposed to meet ahead of the night’s event came early to the restaurant where we’d meet. So, leaving behind my backpack and armoring up with my coat for -17°C (1°F), I bolted from the apartment. 

The eager KOICA intern with whom I served the kids on Chinggis Khaan’s birthday had invited me to come to see a concert with her at the cool Fat Cat Jazz Club. The headliner was Carole Alston, an American. So we’d grab dinner before the show. That was the plan. 

Rushing down streets against the clock, I felt as though the male lead of some drama. I pictured a scene of having to catch someone before that person catches a train, perhaps never to be seen again. I hustled. I skipped across the broken sidewalks and navigated past even a great mound of dirt across a sidestreet. 

On the run, I saw pleasantly that the sidewalk ice cleared by local workers had largely melted. Still, I recalled that Safety & Security emailed us colder weather was coming. (Earlier that day, I felt surprised that we hadn’t gotten emails about such things until that very day we got such an email.)

Arrival

By the time I arrived, my friend and I found that apparently the café closed early that evening. So we would try elsewhere. Apparently her apartment was nearby. Its interior reminded me of the digs an undergrad in nice parts of America might have. The direct nighttime view of Sukhbaatar Square was phenomenal. 

Hanging out for a bit, my friend treated me to homemade Korean foods I hadn't had before. They were cute and so good. The intern mentioned she too came from a comms background. I shared some about my recent time in New York, as I'd shared in my blog earlier that day. I feel a bit bashful that she said she’d already read it, given that not even 24 hours had passed since I shared it. Still, I feel grateful that someone had read it. 

We chatted a little about churches, too. She mentioned attending a Korean one sometimes! Adonis had mentioned Korean churches when I was first in Mongolia, but I never had a chance to visit one. An outing to one would be a future adventure, then. 

Jazz

We stepped underground into the brick jazz club. I felt surprised to see KOICA staff members with whom I’d been chatting within the past 24 hours. People who were strangers no less than a day before were fellow concert-goers. Their table was too small for the two of us to join, though, so we retreated to a high table along the back wall. 

The concert kicked off with the tune “Route 66.” Music brings back memories. The tune mentioned such places as St. Louis, where I was during my last month in America. The performances also reminded me of a few more experiences. I remembered watching the evening performance of my professor of the MUS 122R honors survey of jazz class. I’d taken that during my first semester of college, fall 2OI5. I even remembered that pandemic experience when my fraternity brothers and I took a friend out to midtown Reno jazz bars. That marked his belated 21st birthday and my belated 24th, a couple nights after our shared day, July 6, 2O2I. 

My friend ordered a cherry Coca-Cola to share between us. We got these quaint little jar-looking cups with bright plastic straws. Pop tasted sweet. I liked it. I didn’t feel like ordering anything else. She was so generous. I’d pick up our bill. 

As the jazz night progressed, I remembered too scenes from “La La Land,” that favorite film of mine. I considered how quite a lot of its plot happened during concerts in jazz clubs like this one. I felt glad to experience another part of that “La La Land” tour from—to my surprise—a year and a half before. The film captured the intimacy of such spaces well. 

Next Quest

During the intermission, a friend from KOICA staff came by our table and said hi. She was surprised to find out I’m Christian, since I remember on the bus we talked about Christian roots. My name’s “Daniel” after all. I guess I hadn’t brought up my personal story. 

The person I sat with mentioned I would be joining her at the Korean church in a couple days. The staff member, amazed, and said something to her in Korean. Their nonverbals gave me the impression she said something joking, like that my pal was recruiting me into her community when I didn’t speak Korean. Plenty of people in Mongolia had encouraged me to study Korean, anyway. 

The waiters came by at some point to announce the last call for drinks. Like the last call for food, we said we were fine. Indeed we were. We kept chatting after the show till the venue’s closing. 

During our stroll back in the cold outside, I recognized the great mound of dirt I’d skirted by earlier and realized that I’d hustled right past this place on my way to the nearby café. We joked that I could run home to stay warm. But I opted instead for the brisk walk. One dash across town was enough for the night! 

As I walked home, I remembered how my dad would often do as I did, picking up the bill. He did that especially in front of my stepmom unless she snatched the bill first. I felt glad I could do something in thanks for the fun time that Friday night. 

Advent of Advent

The next day, Saturday, November 26, I came by the cathedral again for choir practice and the Mass. After I sang with the music ministry, a younger participant said, “гал, гал.” It translates literally to “fire, fire,” or, as I would say, “lit, lit.” I felt touched by their praise. 

My peers complimented me too on, “Christ, Be Our Light,” even though I kicked myself a little for my harmony fading during the refrain’s back half. Still, I felt glad too to get to sing Mongolian Mass parts during the children’s service. Singing really was a great way to practice languages. 

After Mass, I reunited with the Peace Corps Trainees downtown for an evening at the opera. Our Trainee Chris W. found a show commemorating Chinggis Khaan’s Birthday. We headed into the large performing arts building east of the Square. We watched from a great vantage on the theatre’s second floor. Chris also commented on the Soviet style of the theatre. His experiences in Russia sure feel cool to hear. 

Chinggis Khaan in Opera

We witnessed an epic retelling of Temüjin’s journey to become Chinggis Khaan. I felt especially impressed by the opera’s dramatization of Temüjin’s loving mother, his captive wife and the rift between him and his blood brother Jamukh. I felt chills from the solo performances of the woman who portrayed Temüjin’s mother Hö’elün. I felt that she really captured a mother's love for her son. 

I felt the most emotional from the final performance by the man who portrayed Jamukh, Temüjin’s friend. The way the singer as Jamukh compared his life to Temüjin’s left me feeling heartbroken to recognize that Jamukh’s betrayal of Temüjin was imminent. Temüjin ultimately had to overcome Jamukh to become Chinggis Khaan. The actors depicted them impressively. 

With the show entirely in Mongolian, it led me to considerably practice my listening skills. Peculiarly, I noticed that Temüjin’s father’s name sounded an awful lot like the Mongolian name for “Jesus.” Есүхэй sounds close to Есүс. But that was just a coincidence. Yesükhei didn’t have much to do with Yesüs. Anyway, the show, in its marvelous performances, stage and costumes, increased my interest in the life of Chinggis Khaan and led me to read more about him that night. I love great performances. Anyway, the next morning would kick off Advent 2O22.

These events occurred when I’d been back in Mongolia for about a month. Some oddities of the culture shock had worn off by then, so I could get in more of a rhythm. After I got back from Kharhorin, plenty enough happened. This entry recounts the seedlings of adventures that would become new norms in my second year of Peace Corps service. 

Transition

The Sunday, November 13, 2O22, which kicked off my Week 5, was fairly mundane. I attended English and Chinese Mass at my local St. Thomas Aquinas parish, practiced more people's names, met some of the parishioners’ kids then returned to my apartment. It was a good morning. 

Then in my apartment, I spent the afternoon and evening writing. My main counterpart visited to drop off a considerable portion of the countryside meat, since our return to UB the night before. It was kind of wild to think that I had seen that animal walking just a couple days before. That Sunday, though, I had three articles I intended to finish. By 2 a.m., I had two pretty well drafted. The third was still some time coming. But finishing would have to wait. 

New Projects, Familiar Faces

Tuesday, November 15, 2O22, I co-facilitated my first community English speaking club since my time in Erdenet. It was with the Volunteer Center of Mongolia, alongside my fellow M3O, Eric. Earlier that day, the two of us had visited the UNFP at the United Nations building. Eric and I had the interesting task of visiting local nonprofits and NGOs in preparation to report back to the new M3I Peace Corps Mongolia Trainees.

On a special note, one of the attendees of that speaking club was one of my former English/Chinese students from the 2OI9 group of international relations sophomores I’d taught back at the National University of Mongolia, Erdenet School. She had since graduated this spring 2O22, after having moved to UB. Having her as a facilitator for our speaking group felt so touching. 

After Tuesday evening’s speaking club, I dropped by a small place on the west side of the square called the EscoBar. It’s where the public English “UB Quiz Night” was going down. Participants could pay a slight fee to join in for the chance to win the money if their table group won. (And if their team won second place, they were responsible for setting up the following week’s quiz.) Dropping by, I remembered how in Reno, Nevada, church friends from Newman would also participate in bar trivia outside town. On one such occasion I’d driven out to participate though I skipped the drinks.

The next afternoon, Wednesday, November 16, my main coworker and I taught our first seminar together! It was a citywide English methodology workshop hosted at a local secondary school, #48, near our office. I learned these monthly seminars would be a regular feature of my assignment to our city’s department of education. During the workshop, when I wasn’t presenting, I was noting unfamiliar Mongolian words and translating them with my dictionary. Some teachers got some cool photos and videos of me presenting! My first workshop was about how to reach Gen Z, which related to my Springtide Ambassador Program work. Apparently my being single was also an interesting tidbit to some in the room, too.

Volunteer Opportunities and Reunions

The next morning, Thursday, November 17, fellow M3O Eric and I embarked on a trip to Special Olympics Mongolia, the site of one of our M28 predecessors who’d stayed on back in 2OI9 to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL). With the PCVLs having evacuated with the rest of us, their former sites were now potential NGOs with whom we could serve. Special Olympics specifically had a special partnership with the Peace Corps thanks to the Shrivers. 

Perhaps of the most special importance was an introduction to the American Corner. On Tuesday night, I’d also met at the Volunteer Center of Mongolia a volunteer who’d done projects in the city library, Duka. That afternoon I came by the uncannily familiar library. I would recognize this was one of many locations in UB I had visited only once yet significantly nonetheless. It was the site of the filmmakers’ December 2OI9 talk before my Christmas return to America that year. 

At the American Corner, the student volunteer Duka introduced me to their program coordinator, Ari. From there, I got an overview of the center’s programs and needs. In Peace Corps lingo, we call this the needs assessment. I decided to help on their children’s speaking club and writing workshops. A children’s speaking club was among my Erdenet projects before, and writing was my specialty. I also met fellow Americans, such as those who came to Mongolia on the current cohort of Fulbrighters. I heard of more, too! My network rapidly expanded. 

I at last got my schedule to work so that I could meet a dear ol’ friend. And my, what a meeting! We shared what felt for me like the finest meal I'd had since the time our Peace Corps Country Director had come to visit my sitemates and me just over three years before, Nov. 3, 2OI9, in Erdenet. Even the drinks were great! We reminisced about my days when I was first in Mongolia and he’d visited me at my old site. He shared more too about his professional background and work since the pandemic unfolded. We resolved to meet again so he could introduce me to program partners. It was a pleasant night. 

Projects Beginning

That Friday, November 18, 2O22, marked the one-month anniversary since my return to Mongolia. 

In fun resourcefulness news, I unlocked a door using scissors! It was during a visit to Beautiful Hearts, another previous Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL) site. I certainly appreciated this organization's service and hoped there was something Eric and I could do to carry on the Peace Corps partnership with them. At least a few of our M3I Trainees had social work backgrounds, too! Baigalmaa would be our main contact there. Another staff member there also mentioned I could get some tasty Chinese food from a restaurant near my office. 

That afternoon I returned to the American Corner to begin as a co-facilitator to its children’s speaking club. In typical Peace Corps Mongolia fashion, I wondered if they played a prank on me, for when I got there, no one was around. Then people arrived. It made for a good laugh in the group chat. 

I felt that the co-facilitator was a lovely presider. She gave me the grade school teacher vibe by how she smiled at the children and exuded what felt to me as though serene patience. I was quite literally passed the mic, so I took the floor. That was a fun moment. 

Afterward, we strolled amid the flurries back toward the square. She was studying at university to become an English teacher, so I felt glad that she was working on our program. Then I continued my new Mongolian language classes with the friend Adonis. Turns out his lessons were in the same building as the Special Olympics office. So many places related! 

Weekend All Across Town

Saturday, November 19 was Day 3 at the American Corner, then back to the cathedral. That morning a few of the M3I Trainees arrived with me to the public English speaking club. After it began transitioning to its Toastmasters time, that’s when I took off early to catch a bus east to Ofitser, where the cathedral was near. 

At the cathedral, we rehearsed with the music ministry and celebrated with children the vigil Mass ahead of the next day’s Christ the King Sunday. I then received a ride from the cathedral to the Shangri-La, where we had the theatre. Unfortunately, just in front of the Star Apartments area (very close to the Shangri-La), we had a somewhat scary moment when our car wound up scraped with another. So I and a friend got out of the car and walked the remainder to the theater. 

That night, a group of new Peace Corps Trainees and us saw the new “Black Panther.” I missed the introduction. But later reading, I discovered that it was as I expected: Chadwick Boseman’s real passing was referenced similarly by characters in the film as T’Challa’s passing. I found the film otherwise moody in the right ways. For it dealt with questions of colonialism while introducing a mutant of incredible power and decent charisma even if too headstrong. I also appreciated how they worked in the MIT character, for it reminded me of wandering the campus just a few months earlier, in September. I looked forward to seeing what Marvel Studios would do with her story. 

Sunday, November 2O, 2O22, I returned to the cathedral for Christ the King Sunday, the last day of the church year. After singing with the choir, I ventured to a far side of town to a large bookstore called Azkhur. I came for an Autism Association of Mongolia volunteer training alongside M3O Eric, our Beautiful Hearts contact Baigalmaa and our friend from the Volunteer Center of Mongolia, Tsevelmaa. I enjoyed how our networking was already benefitting other organizations. 

School Visits and New Encounters

Monday, I embarked on multiple school visits alongside my counterparts. We traveled to the 72nd, 50th and 5th Schools that day, primarily within the Chingeltei district. When introduced to English teachers, I did short needs assessments with their departments, sometimes even observed classes and gave teaching methodology advice to help address needs. Such school visits would become part of my main routines. 

The next morning was the Feast of St. Cecelia. That morning, M3O Eric and I stopped by the Red Cross to learn more about its volunteer activities. That evening, he and I returned to the Edu-Volunteers’ English speaking club. That night, I returned to the American Corner to meet the American facilitator Nick of its remaining writers’ workshop. He taught me about what’s worked in his workshop and needs still to meet. 

To wrap up Tuesday night, I headed with Nick to the 976 restaurant to experience another place where fellow international folks like to go, salsa night. It was a packed evening full of energetic folks hitting the floor every few minutes for salsa, bachata and kizomba. And after some time I eventually met the American for whom we were looking, Audrey. She was such a positive, peppy woman. It was nice to know another American associated with the Fulbright, too! 

The U.S. Ambassador to Mongolia

Wednesday morning was an exciting time, for the new U.S. Ambassador to Mongolia, Mr. Michael Klecheski’s successor, would meet us Peace Corps folks. I needed some more vaccinations first from Medical, then it was time for the meet-up. That morning we returned to the community center of Star Apartments, where we’d celebrated Hallowe’en. This time the center was more plainly adorned. There we met the Ambassador, Mr. Richard Buangan, such a warm fellow. 

Given that he was only the second ambassador I’d met, I naturally found myself comparing what I remembered of our 2OI9 ambassador and our current. Both were friendly and informed men. Though, I supposed I related better to Mr. Buangan’s interest in media and his Filipino descent, which reminded me of my tita. I hadn’t realized journalism in Mongolia had such challenges, yet that greatly interested me. It was wonderful to hear too he was so supportive of us Peace Corps folks. I wondered if someday I could become a U.S. ambassador. 

For lunch I dropped by the Chinese restaurant mentioned to us the Friday before at Beautiful Hearts. It was admittedly alright. I wasn’t sure how regularly I’d want to come but at least the prices were nice. After that I headed back to the department office to work through the afternoon. 

Chinggis Khaan’s Birthday Eve

That evening, Trainees and I assembled at a Starbucks-like Tom N Toms coffee shop in an office building downtown to co-plan our next big operation to occur on Chinggis Khaan’s Birthday, coinciding with Thanksgiving. We divvied up who would do what during our American cultural component of the presentation. I found it a bit ironic to get saddled with the Southwest despite feeling personally more like a Midwesterner. Nonetheless, the “Wild West” was a more iconic part of our nation and one that my Vegas experiences certainly enabled me to speak on. 

Thus, in that single week after my Language Proficiency Interview and ‘cultural practicum’ to Kharhorin, new projects had begun in earnest. Every new day sowed the seeds of a next one. 

I began Thursday, Nov. 1O, 2O22 with the Mongolian language exam for which I had been preparing for so long. And with its conclusion, I’d officially completed my reeducation to fully resume service as an evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having finished the test, I walked swiftly back from near the Peace Mall to my apartment. I then grabbed my heavy Peace Corps sleeping back with my backpack and hopped in the van with my counterpart’s family. 

Road to Өвөрхангай /Övörhangai/

We rode out of Ulaanbaatar (UB) on the main road east. Along the way, I spotted above the traffic a pedestrian bridge labeled “Хархорин маркет,” /Harhorin Market/. With horseback travelers' statues across the top, the market presumably took the name of the historic place to which we were heading. Hours in traffic continued. 

As we emerged from the congested urban sides of UB, our view transitioned to our long road and snow-powdered mountains to our sides. I remembered these sights from evacuation 2020. Blizzard conditions at that time made the terrain look less forgiving though than this. 

As the husband of my coworker drove I remembered what M30 Eric had commented, that Mongolians must be the best drivers in the world. My counterpart’s hubby would kindly flicker his high and low beams before passing someone. Since this was one of those vehicles with the driver side in the right-hand seat instead of the left, we had to creep awfully far into the left lane to check whether we could pass. Still, I hadn't felt worried. Maybe life with my host family back in Nomgon took that fear from me. 

I felt pleasantly surprised that our entire route from Mongolia's current capital to its old one was on paved roads, often with painted lines between the right and left sides of the road. That was a change from the more torn-up roads I recalled from before. It’s possible these roads were paved before the pandemic, though. It’s not like I’d been this way before. 

My counterpart had also handed me the most interesting kimbap I’d seen. It was triangular-shaped, with the seaweed somehow wrapped in separate plastic from the rice part. I had to do some fumbling to figure out the contraption. I spilled a few grains doing so. I was more used to those kimbaps I used to buy in UB that were just like uncut sushi rolls, wrapped in cling-on plastic. 

Throughout the ride down, my counterpart’s youngest son would ask me a myriad of questions. While it was typical fare for a 7-year-old, I felt surprised by the general fluency with which he spoke. It was very much the kind of language used by popular YouTubers, though. I told him not to say bad words, which his mom backed me up on too. Evidently, he was fond of some man named “Mr. Beast.”

My counterpart mentioned that her son needed to work on his Mongolian, though. He reminded me of the child I met a few days earlier while rehearsing for my Mongolian test. After quite a few more questions, my counterpart asked if I was tired. She had her boy shush, I let him ask one more question, then I took a nap.

Töv Province, There in Lun

I reawoke at dusk about half an hour later. The world now had a greyish look by 5:30 p.m. My counterpart asked if I was hungry, to which I replied I could eat but wasn't starving. We were passing through Лун /Lun/, of the central Төв /Töv/ province, crossing the Туул гол /toel golsh/ (Tuul River). Window frost mitigated photos. Still, this was the first new province I’d seen since 2019. 

We stopped at a very nice-looking restaurant. Its outside listed the name “Урьхан” /Uirhan/. My main counterpart commented about how there's one of these restaurants on the way from UB to Дархан /Darhan/ or Эрдэнэт /Erdent/, too. If there was, I didn't remember it looking this fancy. Although, I did remember such stopping places along the way. 

Inside the restaurant, I admired pictures on the wall of other scenic locations across Mongolia. I recalled hearing about a famous crater in Bulgan that I never had the chance to see, when the Coronavirus struck China. I read the landmarks’ signs with little difficulty and wondered if elementary readers were the ads’ intended audience. It was probably just good writing, though. That made them accessible. 

While at the restaurant, an older, gruffer, darker skinned fellow approached me and my counterpart’s youngest son while we sat at the wide wooden table. The fellow asked something about хоёулаа /the two of us/, to which I replied, “өө, би Америкаас ирсэн,” in my usual foreign cadence. I got those wide eyes of wonder that felt familiar to me outside of UB. Perhaps this man hadn’t seen someone from outside Mongolia before. I’d missed that feeling. 

After eating, we hopped back in the car. Night had fallen with still a long way to go. About an hour back on the road, “Эрдэнэсант сум. It belongs to Төв Province,” my counterpart added. Our journey west continued. Before long, we crossed the border to Өвөрхангай /Övörhangai/.

Хархорин /Harhorin/

Arriving in Хархорин /Harhorin/ at 9:30 (21:30) that night reminded me of an experience in the Булган /Bulgan/ province with my first counterpart back in August 2OI9. We had food in the local place of friends known to my counterpart though not to me. 

Still, then and now I enjoyed lovely food in classic Mongolian style. In this case, we stayed the night, too. Instead of three glasses of vodka following the meal, we had Scotch whiskey instead. Honestly, I preferred whiskey's taste to vodka's. 

The folks’ purplish magenta robe for going outside in the cold reminded me of the navy blue one I wore at my host family's place for trips outside during early mornings and nights during summer 2OI9 too.

During Friday morning, we also explored the сум /so-m/ some. I remembered how an M29 who taught me during my In-Service Training had served in this very place. I wondered whether anyone I met knew her.

Meat for the Winter, Friday

We then drove out from the soum center to some gers for the гаргах /gargah/ collection of winter meat. I witnessed them bringing out a cow from the pen, and my counterpart participated in a process of what seemed to be blessing its hooves and head with milk. Then began the sadder but necessary process of giving our bovine friend a sound bop on its head so that it would not be conscious for the next part. (You may want to skip ahead if you're not into the sadder though necessary parts.)

The cow collapsed, and others began to help to secure it as the bleeding began. It seemed like a humane way to go. The cow’s dismayed murmur could be heard as it regained consciousness at times, but the men brought it back to sleep as often as needed.

As the process progressed, the men began to reach inside the animal's body to collect innards to place in designated containers. They kept the handfuls of blood relatively contained, for they had plenty of experience with the work. All things had a purpose. Then came the knives out for skinning.

As skinning continued, I reflected on how I could have died on the mountain back at Glacier National Park this summer but didn't. It was when my friend Victor and I were hiking the Grinnell Glacier Trail when the weather got bad. We were right around the glacier at the trail’s end as lighting appeared around us. We’d rushed into the trees as rain and hail came thundering down. We were drenched beneath the branches waiting for the worst to pass. Seeing the men in the snow skin the cow reminded me of the feeling of how fleeting life could be. Still, God saved me then, and here I was now. 

Later, I wrote to some folks with whom I'd been in touch that not only had I witnessed the cow гаргах, but I also saw the process for two sheep. The sheep seemed more scared than the cow, but but I could empathize that anyone could feel scared knowing one's end had come.

I had looked up “гаргах” in my dictionary. I felt pleased to see its definitions contain meanings such as “going forth.” It seemed like a nicer way to describe the process. I could see why some Americans draw comparisons between Mongol and indigenous practices associated with the land and respect. 

On another countryside note, I finally figured out how to make that /shoo-kuh/ sound I'd heard from as long before as from my host dad back in Номгон /Nomgon/! I'd imitated the sound from one of the little kids who was surely no older than 4 years old. It’s something people would tend to say when doing an action. 

Dinner

Yay, бууз /buuz/! I mentioned on my LPI (Language Proficiency Interview) how I hadn't had бууз since Цагаан сар /Tsagaan Sar/, back in 2O2O. I’d missed Mongols’ traditional steamed meat dumplings. For dinner, we were having бууз. 

At dinner, I also remembered what my counterpart had told me on a walk back toward our Department’s building, that wine is seen as a ladies' drink. Still, I preferred its taste to the large Tiger beer. 

I tried to remember that rhyme I think I heard somewhere. “Wine before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before wine and you're fine,” I guess? That couldn't be right. Well, there was beer and wine at the same time, so I figured that's what I was working with, then. 

My counterpart (CP) asked if I was tired, to which I replied I was just trying to figure out this game, муушиг /moe-shig/. The name sounded so familiar. I wondered whether I'd played it with my host family during PST summer or even with fellow M30 Peace Corps Volunteers at IST/PDM winter. 

The Next Morning, Saturday 

Saturday, November 12, 2O22, I awoke groggy hearing what sounded like a persistent wind mumbling outside beyond the pre-dawn dark blue of the windows. I felt what seemed like some cramps and a certain feeling that the dreaded time had come. 

I sprung from my sleeping bag and crossed the living room to my backpack and items pile. As I crossed, I felt a little loopy, but I couldn't tell if this was being tired, hungover or maybe both. 

A little melody, almost as though it could have been a children's rhyme looped in my head as I worked.

“Take only what you need, in your journey to the жорлон /jorhlon/.”

Amid the COVID-19 pandemic academic year of 2O2I to 2O22, I learned from a newfound Chinese Catholic friend in Reno about the Chinese music notation system. (Hopefully you can interpret my attempt.) Anyway, here is my approximation of the transcript:

Take5 | on-ly6 | what6 | you5 need6 | 

in6 your5 | jour4-ney5 | to4 the3 | жор2-лон1.

Melody in my mind, I started by sliding on my socks since I didn't have to think about those. I emptied my trouser pockets then pulled those on along with my belt. I grabbed my дээл too, and without bothering to mess with its button, I slung that on. Then I crossed the little house to its other side, where my coat stretched across the top of the clothing stack. The whole ordeal took just about 15 minutes as I ventured into the dark cold for the necessary deed in the designated wooden zone.

As I typed about 2O minutes later, my stomach felt a little rumbly, so I lied back down. I would defeat this food-borne challenger, I asserted to myself. 

I remembered the other half of that rhyme, “Beer before liquor, never been sicker.” I guess wine wasn't involved, then? Still, I recalled my alcohol awareness trainings that said not to mix different alcohols. Well, I guess I did that…

By half an hour later, round 2.

While I hesitated to consider the жорлон now my ol' friend, I at least decided that we had a working relationship, an understanding of each other. 

This time my trip took only 1O minutes. This time as I crossed the yard, I felt delighted by the reddish-orange glow upon the mountains in the distance. One of those pretty black and white birds landed upon the fence with two little birds beside it, too.

At last, for the most part, my body felt corrected. 

That Cold Morning

As I approach the house door, I try to open it and realize… I’d locked myself out. 

Now this feels more like the Peace Corps for which I was trained! 

I message my counterpart (CP). 

I hear the wind, see my breath, feel my hands numbing, watch my nose dripping. At least the post-dawn glow of the sun looks pretty. 

I begin to notice the frost on the bottom half of the door. I like how it patterns across the base. 

Someone's gotta come out eventually, I remind myself. 

I check the weather on my phone. It’s only -16°C. 

I remember the bull from the day before and think, glad to be alive. 

I consider how, safety-wise, a door only openable from the inside is actually quite wise. 

15 minutes pass. 

The sun rises. I try calling my CP. 

I feel like since the sun's rising the wind has picked up. I get a little antsier and start wandering back and forth. 

I poke the little nose drippings that had fallen on my jacket. Indeed, they had frozen.

I wonder whether to make a deal with God. 

Then the mother emerges, surprised to see me. 

This time when asked, “Дарсан уу?” my sheepish reply is, “Дарсан.”

Aftermath

I got inside to see the whole ordeal was about half an hour. 

I checked the weather again and saw 3°F. I guessed that’s not very warm, after all. The mother started the fire and encouraged me to rub my hands together. 

I felt as though here, it’s everyone versus the cold. 

I warmed myself beside the fire for the next 2O minutes as the house began to come awake. 

The mom offered me tea while I sat by the fire. 

Round 3 occurred far later, well after my warming and donning of my second jacket, the цэнхэр өнгөтэй one. I felt better by this time. 

When I was last in Mongolia, I had far greater fear about when the outhouse door would fling open that people would see me. Yet this time, while I still cared, I cared less. Part of it probably was because at that time, the outhouse door faced the house’s general direction, whereas this one faced away. Still, I feel like I just cared a lot less about it now than then. I wondered if perhaps this was because amid my two and a half years outside of Mongolia, whatever reservations I may have had unconsciously grew tinted with nostalgic longing.

My total 4O-minute morning adventure became the talk of breakfast, which amused all, including me! I could tell it was definitely about my story, for they related how I said, “Баярлалаа,” to the mom when she opened the door, then I'd beelined to the fire to warm up. I remembered my host family in Номгон cheerfully recounting too my antics. Though, even my papa back home would do the same at family reunions or when family friends visited. Family's indeed family!

My CP later advised me, “You can knock [on] the window.” I explained I didn't want to scare someone, to which we laughed. In hindsight this sounded silly versus freezing. Still, I felt like window-knocking in a U.S. American sense would be more akin to causing a scene. 

I liked how my CP let people know I speak Mongolian when they wanted to ask me something. I responded briefly to a visiting relative’s question about whether this was my first time in Mongolia. It was my second time in Mongolia but first to spend in the countryside during winter and not summer. 

Outside after breakfast, my CP taught me about, “Өвлийн салхи,” Kharhorin's cold wind from a mountain near. To this I thought, “Ah, my new foe has a name.”

My CP invited me back inside while she and the others finished business outside. Her oldest son helped carry inside the back-half portion of one of yesterday's sheep. I sat again by the stove as I continued typing up the weekend's adventures.  

Historic

The rest of Saturday was nice, too. My CP introduced me to the inner walls of the famous Erdene Zuu Monastery. My CP’s grandfather had been a monk here. It felt so wide without many of its older buildings. Unfortunately we couldn’t enter the buildings, but the grounds were still amazing.

The monastery reminded me lightly of the one to which I had walked in Bulgan, November 2OI9. It also had a vibe of that Mata Nui Online Game. Immediately outside the monastery were more consumer-centric areas for tourists, I supposed. 

We got to see another impressive sight. It commemorated multiple historic empires of Mongolia and its predecessors. This mound atop the mount, my CP explained, was the mountain. Behind it, the great river was the Орхон гол, the Orhon River. The monument before us was the Хааны хөшөө, the Khan's Monument. Beyond these were the Хангай /Hangai/ mountains, from which this province got its name. I learned from here for perhaps my first time with detail about the Turkic Empire. 

We drove over to the museums too, but they were closed. I sure would have loved to see the Karakorum Museum. Its exterior reminded me of visitors centers to U.S. National Parks. Nonetheless, the weekend excursion felt like a rad cultural practicum.  

The Road Back

That afternoon, it was time to leave. While we were filling up at the gas station on our way out, I noticed on Pokémon GO that it was a Community Day. So I caught an adorable few Teddiursa, including some ‘shiny’ green ones. Then I evolved a purified one with the best stats into Ursaluna from that new premake, “Legends: Arceus.”

A considerable time along our journey, we stopped by a clump of sand dunes for photos. The sand was so soft. Apparently people bring camels up here for riding during the summer. Yet now it was cold. This reminded me of Death Valley National Park in the U.S. Yet, Death Valley gets popular when it gets cold (like when we went, November 8, 2O2I). I also don't recall people bringing camels to Death Valley. 

Back in the car, my CP offered me some more snacks. I noticed the brand name Julie's again, which reminded me of the cosmetics saleswoman going to Korea, who helped me with my Mongolian the Sunday evening before. I also noticed from the packaging that the crackers came from Melaka, Malaysia, where I was in April, earlier in the year! I felt I should share the news with my Malaysian friends. Their foods have reached Mongolia. 

As we continued east past 5 p.m., I enjoyed shadows from the sun cast far to our right, ahead of us, along the way. I faded in and out of sleep as the sun set. We returned to the same eatery where we dined the first time we came through, on Thursday evening. Though, now it was dark out. 

Seeing so many cars on the road reminded me of those going from Vegas to Reno on weekends. Indeed, the population distribution of Nevada is similar to Mongolia, anyway: There is the megapolis, then there is everywhere else. 

Battle Finale of Legend

When we returned to my apartment, I wanted to celebrate with a break. So I set up my CP’s telly and watched, “The Finals IV: “Partner,” Ash's battle finale against Leon in “Pokémon: Ultimate Journeys.” (It was English-subbed.) I’d been following the Masters Eight Tournament since before I’d returned to Mongolia. Indeed, I was even in Mongolia when Ash became champion for the first time of the Alola League, 2OI9. 

Now, I felt so excited to see the returns of so many of Ash’s friends and Pokémon from around the world, throughout his past. And with that, our hero became the world champion, “The Very Best, Like No One Ever Was.” Well, so began Ash’s new journey and, being back in Mongolia, so began mine! 

In this entry, I pick up with November 2O22’s beginning, from what was the start of my new Peace Corps assignment to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. 

Chronologically, this takes place from the start of my third and fourth weeks back in Mongolia. As part of my current Peace Corps continuum, I spent those weeks in the remainder of my reeducation. Capping that off would be my Language Proficiency Interview, in which a rater would formally assess my Mongolian language level. I also spent these weeks becoming first acquainted with the city's municipal department of education and a handful of local non-profit organizations. 

I’ve still felt especially grateful to St. Joseph’s Day, Mar. 19, 2O23, during which I made serious progress on this piece, while a dear friend was simultaneously taking care of tasks. Now from November 2O23, we at last revisit November 2O22! 

At the Education Department

I felt surprised on my first day at work, Mon., Oct. 31, 2O22, with my main counterpart taking me to meet some 45 coworkers across our department’s, at the time, five sectors. We began from our little space in an office at the back of room 505. As we approached one-by-one desks together, my new counterpart would attempt on the fly a translation of the job title of whomever we were greeting. In my brown gridded notebook I tried to jot a list of people’s names, nicknames and titles. We walked from one desk to the next like this, office room after office room. 

After the initial hello to everyone working in our department, I remembered too that I’d brought from Reno joke calendar pages gifted by my Bostonian friend Jim. I felt distributing the pages would be a lovely way to ensure that everyone I met got a slice of American English. And so, the next days at work, I began revisiting people’s desks to deliver to them these jokes.

On my solo visits to people’s desks I would also bring my Mongolian-English Oxford Monsudar compact dictionary to assist me as I helped people to interpret. I stayed at one’s desk usually till I got a smile of recognition about what made the joke funny. Sometimes nearby coworkers’ who’d understood their jokes would help newcomers, too. 

The method of visiting four dozen people’s desks did wonders for my ability to understand pretty well quite a diverse slate of English abilities. The actual process of ensuring that each of my coworkers received their pages actually took many days, though, in part because some were out of the office when I first arrived. Nonetheless, I noted their names on a whiteboard in the office space of my main counterpart and me.

Allhallowtide With Friends

As I mentioned, my first day at the department office was Oct. 3I. So that evening after work, I met up with Peace Corps Mongolia for a Hallowe’en party gathering. I felt glad that the M3I Peace Corps Trainees had handled arrangements for it. All I had to do was to navigate to Star Apartments!

M3Is there in the community center felt eager to hear how my first day at work had gone. All I had to do after getting off work was arrive then swap into my Captain America get-up. Still, I enjoyed having the chance to get in costume. I’d brought the shirt specifically thinking how it would make an easy albeit on-the-nose costume. The Trainees looked great. We got to meet our Peace Corps staff’s kids, too! I enjoyed getting to be a proud hero.

As folks were leaving, I became graced with many candies to take home. I of course took the leftovers, so I spent time filling my backpack. Our Director of Programming and Training was around too, so we spoke briefly. He said kind words about the magnitude of my returning to service, especially with my interest in starting a foreign service career. When we were by the gate outside on the icy night, he impressed upon me that my choosing to return to Mongolia after three years away was something so meaningful to people. 

I returned to the education department office the next morning, Tues., Nov. 1, 2O22, for my second day of work. I needed to meet my ‘big boss’ to sign some paperwork. My main counterpart and I actually ran into him in the elevator! I felt welcomed when he said in Mongolian that my look was handsome. From the elevator we headed to his office to get the Peace Corps Volunteer agency agreement signed. He wished us well with our cooperation. He had a very kind smile. 

I was grateful that night to return to simple little St. Thomas Aquinas Church for its All Saints’ Day Mass. Singing “One Bread, One Body” across the Pacific was still a joy. The Gloria reminded me of the same Mongolian one in Erdenet sung years before.

The next day, Wed., Nov. 2, All Souls’ Day, I accompanied the Peace Corps on an excursion to the world’s largest equestrian statue of Chinggis Khaan, giving me a break from my work duties. On the adventure the new cohort got to practice in the bus, “Аяны шувууд” /Aynii Shuvuud/, my go-to Mongolian song. 

Throughout the week were also a blend of misadventures, involving joyful times throughout our city, Ulaanbaatar (UB). The tasks were mostly either to get supplies or to complete Peace Corps paperwork. Still, a key Thursday night highlight was reuniting with my Peace Corps Pre-Service Training Cross-Cultural Facilitator Bulgaa. She welcomed me to dinner atop the Shangri-La mall and had even shown me the school where she works. A Friday night highlight was joining my coworkers at the gymnasium for volleyball, reminiscent of my months in the countryside with my host family in Nomgon, Selenge. 

Cathedral Reunion: Second Sunday

A couple days later, that Sunday, Nov. 6, I traveled across town to the cathedral I remembered years earlier. Well, I got off at one bus stop too soon. Still, I'd left my apartment so early that I still arrived on time. 

As I approached the hazel-colored stone ger-shaped building, it felt quite familiar. Though, it sported an unfamiliar 30th anniversary poster on the door through which I entered. 

I came early for an English Mass that’s usually scheduled at 9 a.m. Sundays. Instead, a priest explained, there would be adoration. 

I enjoyed the time I could spend in prayer. 

A woman greeted me in passing with a hand on my shoulder. I took her to be an ICM religious sister, for she was Black and wore traditional Mongolian clothes. 

Before the benediction, I received a sheet in Mongolian listing the words to say and sing. I remembered that “ерөөх” is a verb that relates to blessing and praise. 

I learned during Mass in the cathedral that we were celebrating the 125th anniversary of the ICM Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. It also celebrated their 27th year in Mongolia and the 25th anniversary of a certain sister's consecration. The cardinal celebrated the Mass. (He was among the cardinals whose elevation we'd celebrated this spring in Vienna.)

Before Mass, I also received a pamphlet with an English translation summarizing the cardinal's homily. By the time Mass began, I realized that it turned out the Sister who greeted me was the same Cameroonian Sister Lucilla whom we honored that day. 

I also reunited with one of the pastors I knew from Erdenet, the one who had helped me evacuate. I also met again a UB Catholic I’d first met when I had come back to the cathedral during Advent 2OI9. Parishioners and staff even recognized me despite my having gotten to visit with them only once, those three years prior!

Sunday Night Language After School

I took the southern bus from the cathedral back toward the Narantuul/Dunjingarav area where my practicum group had gone before, when we’d lived at Holiday Inn. I found my way well enough. Then began the walk. 

I looked for the National Park area and then for Park Od Mall. I had read that this mall was near another mall named similarly but different. Along the way, I passed a Singaporean school, which surprised me. The trek reminded me of a dark walk in Malaysia’s Petaling Jaya on my way to St. Ignatius Church. 

I found the Park Od Mall lovely to know it had a glass bridge. The person with whom I’d meet found that detail quite mundane. “It’s a bridge,” she wrote, haha.

Happening to work in this mall was a Mongol who had contacted me years ago, during the pandemic’s start when I had just returned to Vegas. This evening she had invited me to visit her to practice my Mongolian. So indeed I came. She was so cute! When I arrived, she simply invited me behind the desk, and there we sat working. 

Turns out she owned the very store where we sat with my language notebooks open. I felt so surprised. She imported Korean products to sell. She was also heading back to Korea soon, so we just happened to be in Mongolia at the same time. 

She identified my lisping and quickly suggested remedy sounds I could make instead. I felt stunned by how kindly she diagnosed and remedied some of my most troubling pronunciation challenges. I wondered why she was so generous to me. She reminded me of the many warm young people I had met in China as an exchange student years ago. Still, I returned her favor with English advice. 

The hour felt quite, quite late by the time we finished in her office. So she walked me back to the bus stop. She looked fully wrapped in her warm coat, such that one could barely see her eyes from beneath everything.

She helped me to ask young folks also at the bus stop which bus route was right for me. In the cold, I got a deeper crash course in how to use the clunky UB Smart Bus app to parse the right route. It hardly made much sense with my limited data, though. 

My newfound friend was off to Korea, but asked if I could help her with English. We accepted that a video call could work too. I appreciated her generosity and wished her the best. She wished me likewise. I took the cold bus from the shopping area back to my apartment. 

Monday Reunion With Former Students

The next night, Mon., Nov. 7, I walked for a bit with M3O Eric and M3I Kat then traveled to reunite with two of my former students. M3I Kat joined me. I found the Tse Pub where Google Maps routed me, and its downstairs interior indeed resembled the one to which I'd gone with friends Adonis and Buynaa nearly three years earlier. 

Kat and I found a table to await my students. They came from my senior English teachers class and my junior Chinese translation students I’d taught at the National University of Mongolia, Erdenet School in 2OI9. Since that was years ago by fall 2O22, however, they had both since graduated. Curiously, the Chinese translation student’s brother, another of my friends, was in Dubai! 

I chatted with my former students over simple food and drinks. I felt like Tse’s prices had risen since their original $1–2 USD pricing. Nonetheless, I found their $3 rates competitive. Inflation does that.

My formers asked me whether I had a crush, which was surprisingly hard to answer. So I respond truthfully, "Мэдэхгүй," pronounced as I tend to prefer, /Мэдкү/. This answer seemed somewhat disappointing to my formers. Still, I felt conflicted as to whether chance encounters warranted the emotionally taxing label. 

Nonetheless, more exciting to me was the reality of having gathered together so many friends, new and old, in a seemingly familiar place. UB after all was a city I had visited only sparingly in the nine months I spent in Mongolia before. To reunite here with such warm people was a magical joy.

Tuesday Assembly Follow-Up

The following night, Tues. Nov. 8, I visited an associate pastor and his family, whom I met briefly at their church the prior Oct. 3O Sunday I came for Brian Hogan's talk. His family lived in an area near mine, hence my ease of accepting their invitation. He, his wife and children were pleasant. We enjoyed a living room meal, for which I remembered to bring the customary gift of something white such as milk. 

During our conversation, the husband taught me that we use a different verb in Mongolian, “гаргах,” to refer to the specific kind of killing of an animal I would witness soon. My main coworker was from Хархорин /Harhorin/ and had invited me to come visit her hometown with her to collect the winter’s meat. Harhorin has been especially famous for its location beside Mongolia’s historic capital, Хархорум /Karakorum/. 

I felt so surprised too that one of the pastor’s sons was superb at English from having learned it on YouTube. The son would have to work on his Mongolian language, though. Still, it was my first time to encounter such a situation in which a Mongol child in UB would know English better than Mongolian.

Wednesday Reunion and Finale

In order to secure my travel with my coworker to her province, she had called my language tester (her childhood friend) to move my test a day early. So the next night, Wed., Nov. 8, my meet-up with my friend Adonis moved a day earlier thanks to some flexibility on his part. He also brought along one of his students to meet me. 

We met in a place entirely unexpected to me. Yet the moment we entered, I knew exactly where we were. It was the Modern Nomads in which I had shared my Last Supper in Mongolia among fellow evacuating Peace Corps Volunteers who wanted a final Mongolian meal in March 2O2O. Thankfully, my friend had me and his student sit in a different section of the restaurant. 

His student's name reminded me of one of my former Mongolian language teachers, as her name was Bulgan too. In the English language portion of our conversation, we spoke at length about speaking with confidence. Thankfully my friend and I gave her relatively the same advice.

After dinner, Adonis started practice drills through frequent Mongolian language errors of mine and how to address them. I felt amazed by the precision with which he identifies and addresses my linguistic challenges. He really did make use of his degrees in psychology and linguistics.

In the restaurant, I overheard through the speakers a bittersweetly unmistakable song. I listened to this exact violin track morning after cold morn’ in Erdenet, rising for work many days. It was Degi’s sweet rendition of "Аяны шувууд" /Ayanii shuvuud/, the Mongolian song I sang for Teachers’ Day 2OI9. Hearing the familiar song with a familiar friend in the familiar place gave me a spiritual sense that God and Mongolia smiled, “Welcome back.”

The next morning I would take the language exam for which I had been preparing so long. Then that day I would leave the capital for my return to Mongolia’s countryside. 

Tested and Set Free

The morning of Thursday, Nov. 9, my LPI began after some time. I was back at what we called “Cluster B,” behind the Peace Mall. The name felt fitting despite no connection to the Peace Corps.

In the familiar room where I practiced many afternoon lessons alongside fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, M3O Eric, I was alone this day with our tester. Our trainer Sumiya had prepared us well. This was much less stressful than my original LPI years ago. This time the tester and I spoke about my experiences in Mongolia before evacuating and upon returning, rather than something about where to put luggage. My tester too had been one of my teachers during our weeklong In-Service Training 2OI9!

After I finished, I felt glad to see Instructors Sumiya and Bolormaa in the corridor, as well as staff member Erka. I very gratefully spoke some Mongolian thanks to the three before grabbing my backpack and charging phone then hustling down to and out of Cluster B toward my apartment. I’d need to grab my sleeping bag and be ready to go.

As I walked back to my apartment, I reflected on how to some degree, the test was not about accuracy. It was a test about understanding. And yes, I definitely fell short of my grammatical accuracy and proper pronunciation many times. Yet, for the most part, I think I was understood, even if at times I didn't understand. I crossed the street onto Sukhbaatar Square’s sidewalk.

I continued to cross the sidewalk and noticed conversations from my fellow board officers of the Overseas Dispatch, an online experiment in forming community during the pandemic. At the traffic light as I waited to exit Sukhbaatar Square, I responded to the team’s messages and our consensus to gracefully dissolve. 

Up next, I was off to a province to which I hadn’t been before. 

In this entry, I pick up from October 2O22’s end, from what was the start of my new Peace Corps assignment to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Chronologically, I pick up from what would be my second weekend back in Mongolia. (I am especially grateful to St. Joseph’s Day, Mar. 19, 2O23, during which I made serious progress on this piece while a dear friend was simultaneously taking care of tasks.) 

Coincidentally, this marks my sixth October 2O22 story. I first set the record of six blog stories in a month when evacuating Mongolia in February 2O2O. So it’s a fitting count. Alright, for one last time, back to October 2O22! 

Move-In Day (Redux) 

Saturday, Oct. 29, 2O22, I awoke in the Holiday Inn Ulaanbaatar for my last time in a while. It’d been a nice stay. 

I took my last shower, using a new soap and shampoo, since house cleaning had taken my others the other day. I donned again the silver дээл /dehl/ I’d worn for the flight to Mongolia. It was the same from my host family at Наадам 2OI9, for Peace Corps Mongolia Swear-In that August. 

This day would be Moving Day. Prior to that morning, I’d already met two of my main three new counterparts. So I felt less anxiety than otherwise thinking I’d meet someone new. 

As part of moving preparations, I’d also labeled in marker over masking tape my belongings, as in the good ol’ days of Pre-Service Training (PST). That said, this morning I wanted to change the color in which I wrote my name. So before I headed to breakfast, I went back upstairs to the conference meeting space for a blue marker then rewrote. The blue-over-red look of the labels reminded me of the hair color of the protagonist Alear of the upcoming Fire Emblem game, formally announced before I left for Mongolia. Well, anyway, at least my name was in a more fortunate color now. 

Departure

Parting from the other Peace Corps folks felt bittersweet. They were eagerly preparing to move to the cluster sites where their training would continue. They met for the first time teachers with whom they would be training. Ken, my bus-mate from our Seattle staging trip, showed me a cool way to lace together belongings to carry better. 

M3O Eric and I on the other hand would proceed straight to our new assignments. I shared an elevator with him and his new counterpart from a famous non-governmental organization. Still, our role was special, too. The M3I Trainees encouraged me with this. 

With preparations complete, and alongside my new counterpart Nyamka, the foreign language specialist, she and I loaded my belongings into a taxi outside the hotel. Then we crossed town. I was off to my new home. 

Arrival

I felt pleasantly surprised to find when we arrived at my new apartment that I would have an elevator in this one. Back in Erdenet, I lived on the fifth floor of an apartment without one. And hauling every one of my belongings from America and from Peace Corps Mongolia up those stairs was a mighty challenge. So having an elevator here in UB was nice. 

I had a sort of welcoming crew present at my move-in. There was my landlady, I believe her husband with a friend, their daughter (not so far from my age, I think), plus the real-estate agent, who gave me a business card, too. I’d heard real estate in UB takes an agent, so I guess good ones always hustle. 

Back in Erdenet, my Host Country Agency—the university—owned my apartment. So I never actually saw a landlord. Everything was handled by my school. So, actually interacting with the people involved was new to me. Thankfully, I’d still retained enough Mongolian language from three years ago that I could communicate partially with my landlady and the agent. 

Apartment

For the next few hours, my counterpart and I with my Mongolian-speaking landlady signed copy after copy of form after form. In between my counterpart and her talking, I walked around the apartment photographing how things were, as was the daughter and the agent. Everyone would have the same records. 

Before I left, my landlady encouraged her daughter to practice English with me. So resumed the norm of parent-aged locals encouraging their children to practice with me. My landlady asked if I would need a TV and a vacuum. Unfortunately, I was too kind at that time and said they wouldn’t likely be necessary. (I didn’t usually watch TV, and I had a broom and dustpan.) Later, I recalled the words of my M29 predecessor trainer who’d told me whenever offered something to say yes. 

I did find out however that I would need Wi-Fi for the apartment. Thankfully my counterpart’s husband (“hubby”) does internet installations. She also said they had a spare TV if I wanted one. (I remembered I could use one as a spare monitor.) So, I felt relieved to know these would be accounted for. 

Erdenet Connections

The night before, Friday, I had mentioned how I thought I would have been recognized in UB eventually. Well, God must have heard.

After moving into my apartment, Saturday, my colleague Nyamka was taking me to the nearby Emart store so I could stock my place. That’s when we passed a building advertising preparation for the IELTS (International English Language Testing System) test. We were rounding the corner when from somewhere behind me I heard, "Даниел /Daniel/." Then I heard it again.

Surprised, I turned around to find the source. A woman was sitting at a bench we passed and got up, approaching. With her was a tall young man, and within moments I connected the voices with the faces. Beaming, she asked if I remembered them. Of course I did!

We embraced with a hug. They were parishioners from the parish I attended in Erdenet nearly three years ago, I explained to my colleague. The son was far taller than I remembered and his English smoother, too! They were in UB this weekend for his IELTS test. I felt touched to have heard his mom describe me as having been his teacher. My colleague and I explained how I'm working here with the Metropolitan Education Department now.

My friends asked when I may visit Erdenet, and I admitted it depended on my workload. Still, I would message when I’m coming. My colleague and I were nonetheless short on time, so we soon bid my friends farewell. Before we left however, I wished them the best and let them know how much I missed them. The encounter felt like a joyful yet bittersweet animé encounter. 

Soon after, my counterpart and I continued onto the mart. As we walked, I shared more with her about how I knew them and their hospitality. It was a lovely experience. I recounted how when I was especially ill that October three years ago, the mother had bought me food. We would eat together. I saw them one last time when I was evacuating in 2O2O. 

And at the store, my counterpart was recognized at the store by who was apparently one of her coworkers at the education department. I’d realize that running into local teachers too is common for my counterpart. That’s the life of the foreign language specialist. 

Meanwhile, by the time I got home, I was happy to read too that the M3Is were enjoying their Pre-Service Training (PST) apartments. I hoped they’d transition well into service. Ultimately they could be staying in places like mine! 

I later recounted an abridged version of the Erdenet ecounter for the Friends of Mongolia’s newsletter, Jan. 8, 2O23. By then, I’d also add,

“In the capital, I encounter former students who’ve grown into young adults working and studying here. Some have participated in my new community projects, and at least one became a new community counterpart. As I navigate the city, I also find myself stumbling into buildings I recall having entered only once or twice as a Peace Corps Volunteer before. I find myself buying foods I remember my host family fed me from Darkhan during my first summer in this Land of the Eternal Blue Sky. I celebrate the simple reminders that I once lived in this country. I’m truly back. I hope the many who’ve come anew will experience the love and joy I have known so often, back now.”

Hello and Farewell

Another community member I knew from Erdenet was both the first to visit me when I moved there and one of the final people to say goodbye when I had to go. (In fact, I’d even given him my ol’ nametag when I left.) He insisted on being the first to welcome me to my new apartment here in UB. So, the now ‘young man’ Saka honored our tradition and showed up before the night's end. 

When Saka arrived, I offered him water as I'd offered my Mongolian counterpart earlier. (I didn’t have much yet to offer back then.) Saka didn’t seem so much taller, though perhaps he was some. He mused about how he was 16 when we met and was 19 now. I’d similarly commented on how I was 25 now and 22 then. His braces were off, I noticed! 

We caught up on life. Saka was someone known for playing basketball. I felt surprised to hear that he hadn’t gotten to practice his English much in the years since Peace Corps had to leave. Apparently he hadn’t had so many opportunities here at the university in UB. 

Saka also commented on how I've a modern дээл /dehl/, my silver one. My host family has good taste! I recounted how my host mom had messaged me from the countryside that day her welcome for me to visit. Indeed, I hoped to. 

Enthused by our reunion, I wondered when I may next see again the rest of our friends. 

Mending Mental Connections

While unpacking in my apartment, that night I’d found that the Pietà (Michelangelo) figure that crossed the world with me had part of the base shattered. While somewhat upsetting, it wasn’t so upsetting. I procured the super glue I still had from when my “Violet Evergarden” frame had broken during my stay with the Franciscans in Singapore spring 2O22. As I began mending the base, I noticed at least one shard remained missing. 

I considered the True Cross, its relic we venerated with the St. Padre Pio relics tour in Vegas not long before my journey to Southeast Asia. I supposed that perhaps I wouldn’t find that missing shard, but that was OK. The parts I found, I’d resecured to the piece, and it was as whole as it would be. 

I was also able to display my “Violet Evergarden” picture, too. I placed it alongside the other pictures I had brought with me through Malaysia and Singapore. Now they could keep me company during my time back in Mongolia. I placed too a newer Peace Corps poster I’d drawn during staging in Seattle. I had come full circle. 

All a Dew Drop

By the next morning, Sunday, Oct. 3O, 2O22, snow had fallen in UB! I remembered how snow had fallen in Mongolia when we left. Now it was here in our return. 

I enjoyed the snow as I walked down the streets from my apartment past the Chinese Embassy and familiar National University of Mongolia dorms where I stayed years ago. I never would have guessed these would be my neighborhood now. I was returning for my second Sunday to St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, having discovered that it was indeed my nearest parish after all. 

I felt immediately touched by a reading from the Book of Wisdom 11:22, “the whole world before You is like a speck that tips the scales, and like a drop of morning dew that falls on the ground.” I remembered it was the favorite passage of Fr. Bernard, my pastor in Erdenet. It reminded me that we are all small in comparison with yet so immensely loved by God. I missed our community. At least, they knew I was thinking of them. Two had seen me Saturday, and I’d texted our chat. 

I also felt moved by the Gospel reading, about Zacchaeus. That was a Biblical character whose call by Christ featured prominently in the Jesuit discernment retreat in which I participated this past July 2O22. I was going deeper with my interests in international service at that time. Coincidentally too, the journal in which I was writing here in Mongolia was the same that I had taken on that retreat. 

Brian Hogan

After Mass, I headed to the church of the friend Bayra I’d first met in Erdenet during Tsagaan Sar 2O2O. Turns out since she had come up to Erdenet from UB at that time, I was now in UB not far from where she actually served. I found out there that she and her husband were actually the pastors there! Their associate pastor also lived very near to my apartment’s area. 

When I was locked down in Erdenet, I read, "There's a Sheep in My Bathtub," as recommended by an anthropologist. Then by Tsagaan Sar of that year, I was celebrating alongside a family shown in Brian's story, that of Bayra’s. 

Well, I arrived at the building and found myself instead in a coffee shop. Brian was there speaking, so I wondered whether I was in the right place. But then we went upstairs not long after. I was touched too to have been spoken of! I felt treated as though like an honored guest. I sat right up front and listened with joy. 

All Comes Together

I enjoyed hearing Bayra playfully translate for Brian as he told stories of faith. I felt like an ol’ friend to some degree. Indeed, I knew Bayra from my last week in my Erdenet home and now from my first week at my new UB home.

And as Brian recounted how people tried to discourage him by telling him, “nothing can start in Erdenet and spread to the rest of the country,” I remembered my own Peace Corps service having started in Erdenet and resumed with the rest of the country. This encouraged me, knowing how decades later that story continues. 

Afterward, Brian shared with the youths more stories to encourage them. Of course, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I wouldn’t be working with religious organizations. Still, I felt grateful to at least get to experience the graces of the community. I even reunited with Boloroo, another woman I'd met amid my final days in Erdenet. The UB community welcomed me to visit them again any time. 

First Day at Work

The next morning, Monday, Oct. 3I, would mark my first day of work. It would also mark the start of Allhallowtide and that spooky holiday popular to Western folks, Hallowe’en. I felt renewed by the delightful encounters tangibly tying back to my final days in Mongolia, in Erdenet. Now, those memories would accompany me into my new UB role. And so, my next directives would be to continue to restore my Mongolian language skills and to get acquainted with the people I would serve through my next year in English education and community development. 

In real-time, Tsagaan Sar 2023 has just passed, and today, March 6, 2O23, marks the third anniversary of the day I crossed the world from Mongolia back to America when COVID-I9 broke out. But in blog time, I’m still working through recounting my first 2O22 days back in Mongolia! Oh, they were wonderful. I’ll surely have to abridge later editions to catch this blog up to the present. In the meantime, though, let’s head back to those first days back in Mongolia, sequestering at the Holiday Inn in UB. 

Continuing with my recent blog trend, I’m for the most part sharing transcriptions from my journal entries, followed by commentaries over them. Each morning featured Mongolian language lessons, hence my journal entries’ timestamps almost coming only after noon.

The afternoon after I learned where I would be serving, I met two of my new coworkers. For there was a panel session with my would-be counterparts. After this, our program manager introduced those presenters in front of our room to me. I later penned, “[4 p.m.] Wow, really feels like Final Center Days now, getting to meet two of my CPs. Нямка /Nyamka/ and Батбилэг /Batbileg/, of the UB Metropolitan Education Department. Hehe, [a technical trainer] commented I’m handsome. Oh, really am back in Asia… I’m sure Mom’s smiling from up above at me. Education, wow!”

I felt a little bashful about my CPs' compliment on my appearance, too. But I had advised the Trainees to expect comments like these. Getting to meet with my counterparts during the tea break after, I realized with relief that my Mongolian language skills would still come in handy, too. We got a lovely photo together. What an amazing start to my new Peace Corps assignment!

Here’s what else happened, that eventful day after I learned where I would be serving now:

Salt in the Wound: Week 2 Begins! 

Kicking off my second week back in Mongolia, I journaled that morning, “[7:45 a.m.] Meeting two of my counterparts today! Last night felt as though it restored the narrative of my Peace Corps Mongolia arc. Even seeing Adam in NYC can bond back to the present moment. As for this morning, spent the past half hour trying on different American shirt colors and my ties till I found the right result of bold and professional. [...] From the university to the city. Political fishbowl. Don’t get overwhelmed.” 

I wrote reflecting on how earlier that month I had reunited in New York City with Adam of my M30 Peace Corps cohort, with whom I’d originally spent my first week in Mongolia as Trainees together. I’d also settled on wearing a color scheme that I felt said, “America” but not too loudly. Finally, I reflected on how my new assignment to a government office would mean I’m to be in quite the new public service environment. 

By the first day of Week 2, I had also tired of hearing the somewhat endearing refrain from presenters about my past life. I’d journaled Wednesday, “[10:45 a.m.] [...] I felt reminded that I used to live in Эрдэнэт /Erdenet/. Ah, kind of feels like salt in the woundy, but more like dark comedic. Инээдтэй! /Ineedtei/! (Funny!)” Truly, it felt like a single internal tear falling, knowing I would not return to that community from which I evacuated as one of its Peace Corps Volunteers. I’d journaled on Tuesday too, “[1 p.m.] Emergency Action Plan session, Eric and I relate our EAP evacuation experience.” 

With a more positive note on reminders of my life before evacuation, I penned, “At the same time, today I unlocked my IST/PDM [In-Service Training/Project Design & Management] and after language notes. I felt amused to see that words about which Eric and I asked Sumiya багш /bagsh/ (instructor) [...] this week and last have been words I was still learning in 2O2O before evac. May I definitely restore intermediate low before long! [Magnai mentions in site contact form how our phones can show GPS, which reminds me of Erdenet when coming to site.]” 

I did ultimately make peace that day with the candid discussions of evacuation as well as the certainty that I would not return again to my former assignment at least within the next three months. “[4:15 p.m.] Darcy, Eric and I had discussed before the EAP how Eric’s and my decision to return after all these years is an especially good example to would-be CPs of our commitment to Mongolia. [...] ‘Daniel is from Erdenet’ comments remind me of my Vegas versus Bedford, Ind. Номгон /Nomgon/ is my Bedford, Орхон /Orkhon/ my Nevada.”

An Old Pal, Online

The next night, Wednesday, I reunited virtually with an old friend from the back half of my service to Erdenet. I’d first met him, Adonis, the day I was heading from my Host Country Agency (the National University of Mongolia, Erdenet School) to the IST/PDM conference put on by Peace Corps staff. We’d then gotten to spend some days getting to hang out some more the remaining months I had in Mongolia. 

I journaled that night, “[8:15 p.m.] Adonis’ class is going on over Zoom, so I’m online! Recounted how I was at МУИС, ЭС /MUIS, ES/ and how I’m in УБ /UB/ now. Hehe, Adonis mentioned I sometimes take a few days to reply. He mentioned I spoke better last time too, but still мундаг /mundag/ (awesome) in what I did say.” 

I later added, “[10:15 p.m.] I’ve really gotta stop staying up so late. Adonis’ lesson was very fun, though. Tomorrow cluster sites get announced. Friday, huge theatre performance and move-out. So in that sense, tomorrow is our last ‘normal’ Holiday Inn day. <Glad on the Zoya, Bailey, Kat adventure to Дүнжингарав /Dunjingarav/ that I could help ask about items. Jackets warm go for $100 or so, but if I need, I better get! Not quite back to my Erdenet language level, yet goal is to reach pre-Erdenet proficiency.”

Cluster Sites Announced: Thursday

My journal entries from Thursday were mostly identity observations from throughout the day. I also enjoyed conversations with my fellow M30 Eric and one of our American directors Grover. We got some good perspectives from our manager. Later that afternoon I reflected some more on how my communities had changed over the pandemic years. 

“[3 p.m.] Cluster sites were announced, so Eric and I began with Group A, then I visited Group B. [Group A is doing identity map presentations again, as I write.] I went back through my IST/PDM technical session notes and took a better look at my notes on foreign service. Grover, Eric and I spoke about foreign service with Grover, as he too had a meaningful experience in huge media as a PCV. Eric and I have been in national Mongolian media, apparently. I wrote to Enkh to ask about it. Sounds like there are many development roles connected worldwide. Fascinating.”

“[...] My IST and PST notes from 2OI9 remind me that Peace Corps Mongolia used to be a much larger team of staff. Still, as Grover mentioned today, folks remain in our PCM orbit.”

“[4:15 p.m.] Relieved to know that PCM most definitely has my and Eric’s backs in terms of PCM super involvement. Our roles will get to have a ‘senior cohort’ feel as well as the ‘grandparent’ vibe when M32s arrive right after IST/PDM. In fact, perhaps the Peace Corps Mongolia M32 Facebook group would likely have opened beforehand. Eric and I are to be definite stars in this story.” 

To Be Seen

“[4:30 p.m.] ‘Danger of a Single Story’ reflection–A ‘single story’ about me, perhaps as a generalization of being Catholic or being Asian with the family name ‘Lang.’ Suppose it made me upset for a moment, but then it gave me the opportunity to intervene with a more accurate story. As for whether I’ve told a single story, perhaps more likely I’ve written off folks as ‘mean/unfriendly’ people. But then I’ve learned to spend more time w/ such folks, as St. Thérèse of Lisieux would do, so that I can get to know, appreciate.” 

By around 5 p.m. from that session, I recalled too a session I experienced during the In-Service Training Conference 2OI9, in which we PCVs reflected on our social support networks in-country. This brought to mind those with whom I’d chatted lately, including fellow M3Os Alex, Drew, Adam, Rebecca and Ayla, among others from my PST and service, too. “Allyship. Support,” I noted. 

By the night’s end, I simply summarized many items. These included, “[10:45 p.m.] Somatoform Conversion Disorder kicked in tonight during “Coup!’ I won by sticking to moral behavior and John rewarding that by killing Sarah (#GirlBoss) in the end,” followed by, “Bailey made Dylan’s arrival poster,” and, “Kat, Noa, Charlie, Chris T. also did battle after their Exploding Kittens and Chris Wizda’s glue.” 

I added as well, “TM Ariuna and Grover so kind today.” I even noted some fun from Pokémon GO, with, “PoGO and Kat from yesterday’s discovery to today’s trading. Gave her a Ponyta (she wanted) plus a couple Eevee.” Finally, I was, “Packed for tomorrow. Spotify piano~ Concert!” 

Final Full Day, Friday

“[7:45 a.m.] Remembered this last full day’s morning in Holiday Inn Ulaanbaatar the final main morn in Nye Hall with NBS 2O22. Throwback: Monday night with our Program Managers–Region A turns to B, he says it. At first I’m like, OK, education, but then woah! As the days progress more info. PM met with my supervisor.”

Friday at lunch, my peers and I enjoyed our last large meal. One mentioned having read my blog post from October 2OI9, which felt nice. Our last M3I, Dylan,  arrived. I greet him after chatting with our penultimate M3I, Jordan. 

Friday afternoon, M3O Эрик /Eric/ and I chatted about the feeling of heading to site. We discussed how it felt like we “skipped a grade,” given that we evacuated during what would be like our sophomore year of Peace Corps experiences and returning as seniors. I have felt glad to have a peer ally through these experiences. 

During an intercultural session, I recounted to the M3I Trainees Mongolian experiences from both that weekend in UB of vague event invitations as well as stories from when I was in Erdenet. I feel grateful to see a teaching opportunity. I feel valued. 

Later that Friday afternoon, I formally announced to my former counterparts that I was assigned to serve at the Нийслэлийн боловсролын газар (Metropolitan Education Department) in Ulaanbaatar. (Amusingly, its Нийслэлийн is often translated by many as Municipal.) I saw a few ❤️ heart reactions to my message. This helped me to feel a tad more relieved about the ‘extended farewell’ I have experienced away from my first site of Peace Corps service. 

I later journaled at 7 p.m., “Warm wishes after Holiday Inn last supper. Kind, kind hotel staff. Got a sewing kit today. [M3Is] Bailey, Christine, Chris tall, Charlie, chat about bullying and its benefits.” Curiously, bullying would come up three months later on a school visit. 

National Theatre

My second week back in Mongolia ended with a grand finale. I, my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, and 17 of the Trainees headed to the Үндэсний урлагийн их театр (Mongolian Grand Theatre of the National Arts) for a performance of “Монгол Угсаатан Мину.” The show showcased numerous ethnicities through costume, dance and music. It was very well done. 

“Daniel speaks Mongolian,” our Trainee Chris, who led our group, explained. I felt flattered, really. Part of me still felt like an impostor, having written for years amid the pandemic that I know Mongolian, yet doubting whether I did. 

At the theatre, I wanted us to take a group photo by a lovely backdrop. Our group asked me to have someone take our photo. I did my best to politely ask, saying, "Уучлаарай, бидэнд зураг авж болох уу?" I wasn’t not sure my grammar was right since the sentence felt unfamiliar. Still, the recipient of my question began to ask around for someone who knew how to work Chris's phone camera. 

Eventually our Trainees suggested I ask a man from a group to the side. He wore a pin, suit and tie. So I asked him. He agreed. He said, "Харъя," afterward, which felt very polite since he was asking that we take a look before we go. 

The show reminded me of other performances I had seen that year. I journaled, “[7 p.m.] Russian/Soviet theatre outside the Ulaanbaatar sign! A group of 19 of us. Lovely orchestral music. Reminds me of the Lunar New Year 2O22 in Vegas, Music Man’s theatre, NYC. [...] Overall fun day.” I remained in the lovely theatre till the intermission, when I got up exploring. 

Silhouettes of What Was

As I wandered the theatre during the intermission, I saw someone that just about melted my heart. A young woman cried out "Багш аа!" and embraced whom I assumed was her teacher. I recalled Teachers' Day and my own students, how lovingly kind they were. This left me with a somewhat lonesome, hollow feeling, recalling again how those students I loved are from a past to which I cannot return. Teachers’ Day had already passed this year, anyway. 

I penned upstairs during the intermission, “[8:15 p.m.] What a welcome home to Mongolia! Two and a half years… All those years gone… to have peer to pre-, the four provinces, what felt like Qing Mongolian choral or classical, морин хуур /morin khuur/, throat singing. The little dances and the large. [...] Oh, my breathing quickens up here in the hot loft. What a capital. I will aid the education of their children.” I remembered too the performances I saw in Erdenet at my university's student talent show. 

I heard from the Peace Corps Trainees when I returned from the intermission that apparently the man I asked to take our photo was an important person. I felt amazed! The others reassured me that if anyone was to make a good impression, it would be me. 

After the Intermission

Then the show continued. I felt chills as a woman performed the tradition of stepping out of the гэр /ger/ to offer milk to the heavens by flicking it forth with the ladle. As much as I loved the throat singing and морин хуур /morin huur/, something as specific as that reminded me how I really am in Mongolia again. 

The costumes reminded me too of the time in Erdenet when my counterpart and I took our business freshmen students to see the province's museum. On that trip, I saw many traditional costumes and tools that I witnessed come to life on stage. 

Pretty tired by the end, I simply summarized, “[10 p.m.] Lasers on phones, huge Chinggis Khaan. Bless the sky from the гэр /ger/, chills! Гоё юм аа /Goe iomaa/. Ямар оё юм бэ /Yamar goe yum be/. The pin man who took our photo spoke on stage, credits, woah!” 

Then our clump of Peace Corps people returned downstairs to the coat check for our belongings. On that walk back, I reminisced about the M3O Swear-In Ceremony, how the health volunteers like Eric, who were part of the Баруунхараа cluster site, performed a traditional dance too. (Eric prefers I don’t bring this up, though, hehe.)

Return to Base

We returned to the Holiday Inn Ulaanbaatar a little after 10 p.m. Our training manager sat by the entrance smiling as the 19 of us re-entered. It was a good night. 

I felt awfully tired but still wanted to write some for this blog post before I retired to sleep. I wound up writing a bit past midnight before accepting I really needed sleep. The next morning would be my farewell to the Trainees and the move with my new counterparts to the 'permanent' apartment of at least my next 11 months. 

Onward to My New Site

Thus concludes my final night of the roughly 1O days of intensive reeducation I received when I first returned to Mongolia, after having been out of the country for two and a half years. I felt relieved to have been able to rapidly recall many things. Still, the experience felt bittersweet—I had returned not to where I came from but to somewhere new. Yet I felt hopeful about my future. Of what little did I know, I hoped what would come next would amaze me! 

I returned to Mongolia just over three months ago. Yesterday (Feb. 5, 2O23), I returned for my first times both to the place where I spent my first week in Mongolia (Chinggisiin Khuree, June 2OI9) and to the place where I spent my first week back in Mongolia (Holiday Inn, October 2O22). As such, I decided to make the final push to finish this blog story. 

Around this time last month, Peace Corps Mongolia’s new M3I cohort prepared to hear its site placements. By Swear-In, 22 of the initial 25 remained who came as part of that cohort. Still, all 25 were part of my return to this country. So I remember them as I recount these stories. 

I pick up from my first week back in Mongolia, 2O22. I focus on my earliest challenges back and describe the fluidity of new encounters mixed with old. By the stories’ end, we reach my introduction to how I’d prepare to spend at least my 12 months back in Mongolia. 

The Morning After

The fanfare of my newest Swear-In Day over, I awoke my first morning back in Mongolia, Wed., Oct. 19, 2O22. I rose around 2:30 a.m. local time, having slept only some four and a half hours. I tried a couple hours in vain to fall back asleep there in the Holiday Inn where we were sequestered. So I chose to “pick up a pen, start writing.” 

Early Anxieties

I first wrote about the two immediate stressors I faced that morning. For one, having received the previous afternoon the first new ‘COTE’ (Calendar Of Training Events), I could see that by Thursday morning, I would already take the dreaded LPI (Language Placement Interview). When I was first in Mongolia, I went a couple months before my LPI, not a couple days. 

My other stressor was the possibility of my new Peace Corps assignment being outside of UB (Ulaanbaatar). This felt stressful because throughout the pandemic, though I’d yearned to return to Erdenet, I heard early on that UB would be our only option. So I’d accepted UB as my fate. But after hearing that Peace Corps Volunteers could instead receive placements in other cities, such as Erdenet or Darhan, hearing Erdenet could once more be a possibility conflicted me. 

The new Peace Corps Mongolia timeline continuum also felt different. Though we had just returned to the country, our successor Peace Corps cohort would reach Mongolia quite soon. Staff explained how the M32s would arrive in June, not long after these new M3Is experience their IST/PDM (In-Service Training/Project Design and Management) conference. Then those M32s would swear in at summer’s end, as many cohorts of old had. That Swear-In would occur however not long before the M3Is’ Mid-Service Training (MST) and the scheduled COS (Close of Service) for my fellow M3O evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Eric and me. 

I felt glad at least to know that Eric and I would witness Peace Corps Mongolia back up to three simultaneous cohorts, as it had had back in 2O2O before the pandemic. Eric and I would be the grand-cohort. And if the M32s had assignments to the countryside, then Eric and I could share our perspectives from that life. 

Continuity

With the changes in mind, I thought about the work load of our Training Manager, penning, “What a life for TM Ariuna!” I remembered too some of my first interactions with her at this hotel, when I worried of the impending language test. I added, “So sweet as ever. She remembers I ‘worked very hard at the language.’” 

I considered too how Bataa, who greeted me the afternoon before at the airport, had later at the hotel approached me, saying how I promised during evacuation that I would return. He hadn’t been sure I would, yet here I was! I mused using Thanos’ words, “Destiny fulfilled.”

Furthermore, I acknowledged, “Memories flow back of the ger camp where Eric, I and our fellow M3Os trained as PCTs. Гуанз гэр [guanz ger], the field on which we walked cold mornings to the cold showers. Yesterday still cold shower.” I remembered these moments in part because with so many Peace Corps Trainees trying to shower at the same time that night in our hotel, we would need to pick different hours to have warm water here. 

I should comment, I had an amusingly difficult time remembering early on how to correctly spell my fellow M3O Eric’s name since his Facebook profile lists his Cyrillic spelling as Эрик. So I usually wrote ‘Erik’ in my journal, those first few days back. (For readability of this blog, I’m just listing it properly every time, as Eric.)

Additionally, that morning, I noted of two M29 Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs), “Oh, Willem messaged that Tylor’s now a film star!” The theme that Tylor’s a film star would recur. As for those two, Willem had been my M29 Resource PCV back in the Selenge province’s Nomgon soum during summer 2OI9. Tylor was one of the M29s with whom I collaborated on community development back in Erdenet. He and I hoped to meet up that coming weekend, now that the four of us (counting Eric) have returned. 

Wednesday: My First Full Day

When I finished journaling and accepting that I wouldn’t get to sleep anymore, I headed down to breakfast. After getting food from the self-serve area, I sat beside a Peace Corps staff member. I recalled my attempts to practice Mongolian with Peace Corps staff members back when my first week in Mongolia had been at that ger camp, June 2OI9. So, I turned to her to say hello.

My attempted morning conversation in Mongolian felt awkward. I barely remembered basic words. My first attempted conversation partner didn’t say much, either. But I got through a little. I jotted what I think ought to have been, “Байх байх,” that the staff member would probably be around.  

Breakfast wasn’t all weird, though. I wrote around 8:15 a.m. afterward of a separate conversation, “Ah, TM Ariuna, good talk after breakfast [...]. ‘Сайхан амарсан уу?’” That’s the phrase people say as a common greeting, literally closer to, “Did you rest well?” I remembered having definitely chatted with Ariuna during meal times back in Mongolia my first time. Perhaps the other staff member and I just hadn’t spoken so much back then. 

Also after breakfast, I penned another strong feeling. “I miss my МУИС students… Foods from Teachers’ Day. Ariuna met one of my МУИС CPs.” МУИС (Монгол улсын их сургууль) was my previous Peace Corps assignment, to the National University of Mongolia branch in Erdenet. The foods I saw during my first breakfast back in Mongolia reminded me of foods my former students prepared for me and my CPs (counterparts) during Teachers’ Day. But almost every one of those students has graduated now. 

In my hope to see familiar faces, I noted too, “Some [Mongolian language] instructors coming back, Grover said yesterday.” Grover’s one of our American staff members. His comment had given me some relief. Still, I accepted for my first full day back in Mongolia, “Today’ll be in my feels, I guess.”

Memories Throughout Wednesday

Later that morning I added, “I guess today I realized Eric and I are at our ‘MST.’” MST is Mid-Service Training, usually for Volunteers who’ve finished their first year of service. Since Eric and I had only been in Mongolia nine months before evacuation, the present conference felt as though our closest equivalent of when MST would happen for us.

After lunch, Eric invited me outside the hotel for a walk around the block. I wrote, “Eric and I had a good walk. [It] was nice, kind of reminding of hutongs [胡同] in China, as he said. I recall how Kat and Darcy went for a walk too after lunch, before this Grover/Kim session.” When Eric and I were in Mongolia the first time, too, our conversations often involved discussions of our mutual experiences with China, as well.

Our American directors Kim and Grover led the session after lunch. I wrote with surprise, too, “Grover referenced my predecessor Rob, who’d animated Grover’s childhood. Surprised to hear him mention Rob (albeit not by name!). I met Rob Oct. 2O2I in Las Vegas at UNLV Newman haunted house.” The year before, in 2O2I, I had posted about helping my church friends with their haunted house at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Rob just happened to be in town that night and stopped by to greet me in person! That was an amazing moment.

Summer and Autumn 2OI9 Memories

Some time after the directors’ session came dinner. That Wednesday after dinner, I joined a group of Trainees who followed Peace Corps staff’s prescription that we may only walk east. We headed to Sukhbaatar Square. Seeing the vast plaza again for the first time reminded me of my first experience there, my birthday, July 6, 2OI9. Now I felt as though I played the role of Resource Peace Corps Volunteer Danica, introducing a junior cohort to the Mongolian capital’s wide space. 

As our group walked back to the hotel, I also felt the burning familiarity of having been down this street before. I believe I had seen the Chinese pagodas, simple statues and stone paths here an autumn weekend when I came to UB for a conference. I felt as though I could pick out the very bench on which I sat and remembered my late mother. Still, this was a feeling surely only I had from walking down this road. 

What Could Have Been

By the night’s end, I felt more hopeful. At 10 p.m., I journaled how a staff member “said my ol’ site loved me, like a god, haha!” She’d referenced too another Volunteer, who was known throughout his Mongolian community. To me she “Mentioned that had I not evacuated perhaps I could’ve reached the language and knowledge level the former had.” I felt bittersweet, musing what could have been. 

This motivated me, too. I couldn’t achieve what that Volunteer did in his time, but perhaps I could achieve my own version of that in the time I have. I added, “Well, apparently, national news!” referring to Tuesday afternoon’s interviews that have apparently circulated all over. I wondered if I may wind up extending for an extra year, too. Till then, I needed to really focus on my language skills. My Language Proficiency Interview would be the next morning. I concluded, “More and more words returned yet still to come.”

The Blur

My second and third full days back in Mongolia flew by. I still fought jetlag too. Tuesday night I’d done enough push-ups to match my age in hopes of sleeping early. Wednesday I kept writing for this blog to wrap up stories from other parts of the world I’d visited in 2O22 before being back in Mongolia. I note the day’s new challenges, glossed here through journal entries. Of particular concern to me was how I felt a sort of sinus-related illness that I hoped wasn’t COVID-19.

Thursday: Language and Tests

Thursday around 5:45 a.m. I penned, “Awoke an hour ago with a hot shower, having gotten in some six hours’ rest, having stayed up. Whereas yesterday morning felt still as though in [the] U.S., today arose more joyfully as knowledge in Mongolia true.” In other words, I felt more hopeful recognizing that I’m indeed back in Mongolia. 

That morning Eric and I had our Language Proficiency Interviews. After my test, around 12:30 p.m. I penned, “Language test, Instructor Dogoo was very kind! Said I hadn’t forgotten much, yay.” She felt delighted too that I've returned to Mongolia. At first, I couldn’t tell whether she was acting for the test or genuinely sincere. But by the end, I could tell she meant it. She felt glad I returned to serve in Mongolia. 

On another positive note, I wrote couple hours later, around 2:15 p.m., “I recall TM Ariuna and [CD] Kim characterized Eric and [me] Tuesday as extraordinary Volunteers. Reinstated, yay!” 

I also wrote about the need for negative COVID-I9 tests to progress from this sequestration hotel. By 3 p.m. wrote how I’m, “Feeling my present illness reminds me of October last in 2OI9, ill then, too.” Then I, “just realized COVID-I9 really is the new norm.” By dinner time, beautiful memories resurfacing from service in Erdenet continued to ping pong back through my brain. 

Friday: Highs and Lows

Mongolian language continued to be a top priority for me. “Hopefully whatever cold I have may have has helped correct my jetlag,” I wrote Friday morning, around 7:45 a.m. I reminisced too, “Glad I hadn’t forgotten all my Mongolian yesterday. Novice-something, I hope! Grammar and vocab, Eric and me together. Woo, going strong, OK!” After that, “[12:45 p.m.] Eric and I had our first language session today! No word on how we actually scored in our LPIs yesterday, but that’s OK. Better that we don’t know anyway. Instead, I want to keep on working hard such that perhaps I can hit intermediate-mid.”

I thought back to changes for the new M3I cohort versus our M3O one. “The new PCTs will have 14 weeks’ training instead of 11. I recall the ger camp first sessions and the Darhan days, too. Remembering that on the third and fourth weeks Eric and I will be giving reports about NGOs gives me the hope we’ll indeed be in UB and also nearby each other.” 

I gleefully noted around 3:30 p.m. that the Trainee “Tom had called me sanguine, affable!” <3

Not COVID-19

Since I passed my medical intake interview by the afternoon, I noted too, “Oh wow, I didn’t have a fever!” I enjoyed chatting with Sara, Dr. Maya and Dr. Suvd. On a less gleeful note, though, I found out, “May lose my toenails… OK….!” (This goes back to Peace Corps Mongolia summer 2OI9 toenail injuries in Pre-Service Training I’ve still had to this point.) Dr. Maya was among my cohort’s Peace Corps Medical Officers from back in 2OI9, so she knew my prior record. 

I continued reconnecting with staff, having had a “Lovely chat before [dinner] with TEFL Ariunaa, reminiscing about past Volunteers and their whereabouts.” As I penned the next morning, “Felt reassured [...] talking to TEFL Ariunaa and having my vitals checked by Sara that I don’t have COVID-19 nor the flu but rather something environment-related, such as the pollution or carpet (as Ariunaa said) reacting to me. OK!” I’d have lunch the next day with Drs. Suvd, Maya and Bilguun, both reminiscing with and getting to know the medical team better. 

As for dinner, I enjoyed “Humorous jokes about food and ‘kidnapping’ with John, Paul, Eric P., Ken and tall Chris. Hunting cameras stolen, wild Mexico and not so wild China adventures. Kat, too!” I really enjoyed the playfulness of this cohort. I concluded Friday night writings with, “Onward and upward, yay!”

First Weekend: Reunions

The next afternoon, that Saturday, I reunited with M29 evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers. They were Tylor and Willem, the latter who'd trained me summer 2OI9 back in the quaint little Nomgon. I found out that Tylor really has been starring in Mongolian movies since coming back. Seeming schoolboys even stopped us as we walked to request a photo with him. He later mentioned he had another film coming in January and had me keep it on the downlow. I think I would enjoy playing in a Mongolian film, if given the opportunity, especially for a musical role. 

Strolling with the guys, I tried in Sukhbaatar Square my first айраг /airag/ since returning. That one tasted foul. Though, I guess nothing beats the kind I tried from the monks at the Buddhist temple in Erdenet. My fellow eRPCVs then took us to a restaurant where I had recalled eating shortly after Swear-In, back in August 2OI9 with M29 Jacob. The restaurant was called MB Beer Plus. October 2O22, I considered while inside how this city, UB, really does have such luxuries. The M29s treated me to a tasty milkshake, too. 

After the restaurant, the M29s walked us to what I journaled as, “A speakeasy with great chicken and fast food…” I noted too, “Had a good talk with Kat tonight after all done. M29s Tylor and Willem with me, her and Eric in UB. Pleasant day. Throwbacks to our old sites and UB today.” 

Back at the hotel where Peace Corps quarantined, I also saw that night with the others for M3I Pader’s birthday a film I don’t tend to like but found alright, “Coraline.” I felt amused how the film’s named seemed similar to the M3I Caroline’s. 

Sunday and Faiths

That Saturday, I also felt surprised to see a Facebook friends request by “A young adult from TNK parish in Erdenet,” Nandia, I journaled. I imagined she must have been one of the older teens when I knew her before. As I noted of my actions, “Continue to inform Mongols of my return.” 

I meanwhile learned that some I knew were elsewhere now. A coffee coach who’d sewn me a book cover back in Erdenet was now serving in the Middle East. I wondered whether I’d meet people he knew, during my time here in UB, through a mutual friend whom I learned lives here. 

Sunday morning, I enjoyed humorous conversations over “Breakfast with Paul, Caroline, memes, Saints, Ken, etc.” I then walked with M3Is Kat, tall Chris and Sarah S. to check out St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, the nearest Catholic church on Google Maps. I journaled that morning, “Mass memories of Erdenet, Seattle and Reno. Recorded audio. Fr. Nathan was my pastor, yet Jesus is my shepherd. Pretty church.” 

My thoughts spanned many recent adventures as well as those for months throughout the pandemic. The small worship space and audio tapes containing the hymns reminded me too of the church I attended for years in Erdenet 2OI9 to 2O2O. The community with which we fellowshipped here in UB after Mass included people employed by the U.S. Embassy, eager to hear that the Peace Corps had returned. 

The Buddhist Monastery

After that, our Peace Corps community headed to the nearby Buddhist monastery. I journaled that afternoon, “Journeyed West from the East today, to see the huge monastery nearby. It was pretty. Reminded me a little of that cold monastery we visited before. Gandam~ ‘The smell of the incense’ referenced. [... 15000 monks killed, 900 monasteries destroyed.] Only five temples remained, though closed…” 

Journeying west instead of east was also significant. Early into our sequestration, our training staff explained how we weren’t by ourselves to go north, south or west, but we could go east. So to get to travel any other direction from the Holiday Inn felt like a fun deal. 

During the trip, I met more of the new language instructors, who guided us. I felt amazed by the scale of buildings and designs and felt mournful about the violent deaths many had endured. Unfortunately, its famous big statue was closed from viewing that day due to a function. Following that visit, the facilitators wore traditional costumes and taught us to consider especially the diversity of people in this nation. 

Loose Threads

“[9 p.m.] Feeling a bit more at peace now that I’ve had this evening after dinner to be apart from the cohort. Now I can reflect from this desk in [room] 1405 a bit better.” On the Sunday night to kick off my second week back in Mongolia, Oct. 23, 2O22, I nibbled амттан (desserts) and sipped cool tea while I completed blog entries from my black Journal #16 stories from the weeks in Europe. That same night, I concluded penning its succeeding Journal #17 such that I would begin my current Journal #18 properly. My current #18, a birthday gift, resembles what I took to be an illuminated manuscript of Genesis. 

I reflected on how the M3I Jordan had arrived in Mongolia that day, after having been held up because of COVID-19 concerns. Meanwhile, I started to feel pretty good about having overcome jetlag. I meanwhile enjoyed comforting conversations with M3I Rowan, who recognized where I’d like to be and where I was. 

That Sunday, Oct. 23, I considered while both finishing the last of some cool tea and desserts in Mongolia and rereading my 1 p.m. journal entry from May 28, 2O22 about having had a Bavarian hot dog in Füssen, Bavaria, Germany, and while, I noticed again how spoiled I’ve felt to be spending my first couple weeks back with Peace Corps Mongolia at the Holiday Inn in Ulaanbaatar. My cohorts really prepared me for far fewer amenities and far less comfort. Yet, I had to remind myself that times have changed. And before long, I’d be living on my own again, anyway. I’d try to savor what I had. 

I concluded the night’s entries, “All considered, I am back. Mongolian language acquisition goes fast. I get some insights as to my site tomorrow night. Informing Mongols that I’m back. [...] And thank You again God for the unexpected journeys of 2O22. This was another year I could not have fathomed. May it open wide a lifetime of fruitful possibilities for me and many.” <3

Site Announcement

The next day began peacefully enough. I wrote a couple entries earlier that Monday before finding out my fate. I share those below.  

Language and cultural immersion continued to be a major priority. “[11:30 a.m.] Grover was cheerful about my [language] reacquisition, and I’m already making a good impression on other instructors like yesterday’s Boloroo and Tuul, yay! Well, glad to know that some things haven’t changed.” I recalled how during my original Pre-Service Training (PST), summer 2OI9, I had quite the habit of befriending just about everyone’s Language and Cultural Facilitators, at least those who were willing to speak with me. 

That afternoon, I added, “[2:45 p.m.] Discussion of PST isolation reminds me of Номгон /Nomgon/ and the decisions I could make then while living with my host family to stay hopeful…” Back in PST in the countryside, where a rooster awakened me many morns before I needed to be up, I experienced quite a few isolated nights and days trying to get a sense of where I was. Those were feelings to which I didn’t feel so inclined to feel again. On a more positive note, I penned too,  “<Noah liked my journal!> Paperblanks Gutenberg Bible!” He’d asked me about it, which led me to read its brand. 

Then dinnertime came. And after dinner, I knew I would get news about my new site placement. My time came. 

Placement

At the conclusion of my seventh day back in Mongolia, my former regional manager, and now program manager, turned to the other and had him say their proposed site for me. When I heard it, the role in this municipality seemed amazing. 

Here’s what I wrote. “[11:30 p.m.] Well God, Thou delivered. Two and a half years’ wait, and now I get the most substantial promotion I’ve seen yet. [Program Managers] Zorigoo and Bayar described after dinner my 99% likely assignment in consultation with [our directors] Grover and Kim on having me at the K-12 education department of Mongolia’s capital city, Ulaanbaatar.”

As my managers had impressed upon me—Only some 15 schools in this city will have Peace Corps Volunteers. Thus, the other over 250 other schools will have me. While to some degree I felt disappointed that I would no longer have students of my own, I felt excited by the prospect that I would go from teaching future teachers, at my previous site, to teaching current teachers soon. 

They admonished me as well with what sounded like a Mongolian idiom. If one ox’s horn shakes, 1000 oxen’s horns will shake. (I later asked our language instructor, who confirmed this to be, “Нэг үхрийн эвэр доргивол мянган үхрийн эвэр доргино.”) So, I would need to do well in my role, for not only my sake but the sakes of many others to come. 

“It’s about midnight now, so I should get some rest. Mongolian language continues in the morning with [our language instructor] Sumiya багш /bagsh/ and Eric, our Ben Park [Peace Corps] successor at Гэр /Ger/ Hub. Hope [...], my fellow M30, sends me so much good advice about the education department life. I meet my [counterparts] CPs tomorrow, at least two of them in the afternoon. They’ve worked alongside Zorigoo and Bayar to choose [Host Country Agencies] HCAs for the M3Is.” 

A New Phase

I ended that night’s journal entries with accepting the realities of my placement, hopes to come and a note to self, “Farewell to Erdenet, at least till Jan 20, perhaps. Цагаан сар /Tsagaan Sar/ in Номгон /Nomgon/. Optics are so key in my new public service. Amen.” The next day, I would meet two of my new counterparts, my managers said. 

I conclude this blog story here. The next one will pick up from meeting my newest coworkers. I’ll share how my reeducation shifted since learning about my new Peace Corps placement and moving to my new life situation. 

Today marks the second month to the day since my return to Mongolia. I’d persisted two and a half years in finally getting to share this story of having returned to Mongolia. I wish I could have gotten to it sooner! Still, I hope as you read on you’ll know what’s kept me busy. I start first with the juiciest bit of us returning then circle back to how I got here. 

Mongolia

The morning of Tuesday, October 18, 2O22, I step from Turkish Airlines back into Mongolia, the “Land of the Eternal Blue Sky.” I wear the silver дээл /dehl/ shirt I received from my host family for Naadam in 2OI9. I lug the silver backpack my mother planned to gift me when she was still alive. 

I had considered leaving my silver backpack behind in the States because of its wear. But it’d been with me for so long around the world since 2OI7. I chose to bring it back, still. 

This airport looks different than I remember. Eric, my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, comments that this must be the new airport, I think. Immigration definitely feels like a warm breeze here compared to the cold floors we knew before. I pass through without challenge. 

I feel elated for another reason, too.

Right at the door from immigration stands my Country Director.

Our American leader grins with her characteristic welcome and diplomacy. We share a big hug. We chat about how nice Ulaanbaatar’s new Chinggis Khaan International Airport is. We’ll have plenty more time to chat later, anyway. Beside her stands our General Services Manager, a Mongolian man with whom I hadn’t shared too many conversations. Still, he beams, and I’m so glad to see him. We three know each other. 

The New Chinggis Khaan International Airport

Baggage claim is smooth, so smooth. I grab my bags with relief to see they’re all here this time. I’m still surprised by how cozy this airport feels. I trek toward what seems to be an exit. I feel excited yet disoriented, recalling my 2OI9 trip into Beijing during service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I exit baggage claim.

Wandering out, I spot suddenly to my right these huge Peace Corps Mongolia “Hello Again 2O22” banners held by familiar figures of staff I haven’t seen in over two years. I enthusiastically take up hugs with anyone offering. I embrace both my past Regional Manager and our Safety & Security manager, with whom I don't even recall being so close. Still, goodness, what a difference years apart yet online make. 

I’ve barely a moment to wait as I’ve bags to load onto whatever bus we’re taking this time into the city. I shuffle on through, gleefully greeting any Peace Corps Mongolia staff member as we recognize each other. Amid my new reality, I notice too an unfamiliar blonde woman and man. I hear somewhere they’re with the U.S. Embassy.

What Comes Next?

With bags loaded, I’m free. I hop back off the bus to see. It’s a brisk 6°C (43°F) this October morn. 

I take in the moment. M3O Eric stands beside me outside. We had similar ideas. I'm astonished to learn that Eric was late to our bus meeting in Seattle because he was seeing a mutual friend of ours, my Nomgon neighbor, Sam.

I'm not shocked for long though beside Eric and me, beside the bus, stands too our Director of Programming & Training. Of course, the director and I share a huge hug. He tells Eric and me with a wide smile how today staff is to swear us in immediately and get us back to serving soon.

We’re glad to hear it. I’m genuinely excited about the prospect of serving again so soon. But, I’m not sure whether to believe they’re really about to reactivate us. Still our director sounded reliable.

Not long after, the M3Is file through and onto the buses. 

Once everyone’s about settled, we all hop back off for a big facemasked photo. I brave the cool with my coat left on the bus so that my дээл /dehl/ is entirely visible. As the Peace Corps Mongolia banner unfurls, I stand toward the front, beside it. Next to me stands Ken, with whom I chatted from our Seattle hotel. Peace Corps is really back in Mongolia. 

Staging in Seattle

That preceding Friday afternoon on October 14, 2O22, my flight to Peace Corps’ staging lands in Seattle, Washington. I’m walking across the plane that brought me out of Vegas when I receive a text. It’s from a Trainee in the new M3I cohort, Chris. He’s landing in Seattle about when I do. 

I head to SeaTac's baggage claim. I remember having met my fellow M3Os, Marisa and L, at the Philadelphia airport three years ago. Now I’m back in Seattle, where I visited my first and second times last summer. It won’t be long before I don’t travel alone. 

Sure enough, the tall man Chris walks up. He explains he's from Portland. I remember my time there around this time last October. Chris’s flight to Seattle was his very first flight, he beams. I welcome him to the Peace Corps with a smile. 

First Ordeals

I find not long after meeting Chris a complication. My orange backpack seems not to have arrived with me. So I head to Alaska Airlines’ desk. Its attendants send me back to the carousels. I wait quite a while longer, with Chris staying by my side. 

The ordeal occurs for about an hour. During this time M3Is Ken and Darcy, who'd texted having also arrived, go ahead to the light rail. Meanwhile, another M3I, Alex, arrives beside Chris and me, too. I remember Alex’s face from Zoom calls preceding today. 

Our trio decides we ought not to keep waiting. I come back to Alaska Airlines’ desk to put in a mishandled bag ticket, hoping my bag arrives the next day. Wow, this feels like Munich this summer. Then haul our things to the light rail, too. I remember October’s NYC trip yet with more walking here. I think too about that time I traveled to D.C. from Vegas when the Capitals were playing our Golden Knights. 

Our trio rides the light rail a while. When at last we hop out, we lug our luggage uphill many blocks. Now this reminds me of San Francisco last August yet sweatier. I’m wearing the heavy coat I’m bringing back to Mongolia, though I really don’t need it for Seattle’s October. I’m pleased to pass by the public library I remember from my Seattle solo adventure last summer, though. 

Peace Corps Arrival

At last we reach the hotel. Chris, Alex and I split as we check and head to rooms. Upstairs I find Peace Corps staging staff of Nick and Maya so friendly. I feel weirded out somewhat by how tight COVID-19 protocols remain. Still, I see my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Eric, M3O, and feel a bit better despite the oddness. 

Eric and I catch up over Mexican food a brief walk away. I like how he has real Southern calm about him. I remember conversations we shared when we were Trainees in the ger camp outside of Ulaanbaatar (UB), three years ago. We were two of our cohort’s members also into Chinese studies.

Staging 

Eric and I return to our hotel, and staging begins. I try not to too blatantly draw attention to how I’m one of us two evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers who were serving before in Mongolia. I try to focus more on getting to know my new peers. In among the first activities then, I get to know a fellow Asian American seated behind me, Christine. I’m surprised by what led her to Peace Corps but feel confident that she’ll be fine. 

I expect to get to know others in the M3I cohort more when we’re together the next day. There are about half the Trainees in this cohort compared to those in Eric’s and mine. Still, when the traditional ice-breaker comes asking what weird thing we packed, I decide to reveal a piece of my heart. I packed my bus card from our first summer in UB, and I want to see whether it still works in Mongolia. 

Navigating the Old and New 

After the evening session, I’m on a side quest. My sister Becky and her new boyfriend Solomon are also in town. That night, they pick me up from the Renaissance Seattle Hotel where Peace Corps is staying, and they take me to enjoy delicious Indian food with them nearby. I recall when I visited Becky last summer in the Seattle area, too. Her boyfriend Solomon’s quirky, funny and wise. 

Saturday I go back through staging. It exhausts me at times. Its minimal acknowledgment that this ain’t the first staging for evacuated returnees bugs me sometimes. I still remember plenty from my first staging. Personally exhausting too is how memories left dormant for two and a half, sometimes three, years would ping pong back to me. 

I stay upbeat while getting to know the new Trainees. At least I’ve only 23 names to learn right now. Eric and I had to learn so many more as Trainees in 2OI9. 

Bonding 

During one of staging’s identity exercises, we’re asked to consider three aspects of our identity that will become most apparent about us in Mongolia. I announced that three regarding me would be that I’m young, Asian and single. I remember these from what coworkers and locals would often say to me. 

At lunch, I walk with many M3Is to a pizza place where we can build what we like. I get my Subway-style everything meal. I enjoy the company of the down-to-earth Midwesterners with whom I dine outside. One reminds me of my former sitemate from Wisconsin, Emilie, our volleyball star. I miss her. 

I’m surprised by how many in the new cohort also have China backgrounds. That’s nice. Our walk again past Seattle’s major public library reminds me of conversations I had there with the National Peace Corps Association. I’ll miss the stellar stateside Walk Around Allowance that Peace Corps provides, too. 

New Recruits

Amid staging, I also reunite with/meet for the first time Rowan, an M3I I met virtually back in fall 2O2O. We’re so glad to meet at last in person. She feels to me like an old friend. I also enjoy hearing the teaching background of Ken and the social work background of Darcy. As part of the ice-breakers, Rowan and Darcy are in my doodling group, which I enjoy. Humorously, some of the Trainees mistake our group’s drawing of someone sad and alone to being a drawing of a blood sacrifice upon an altar. (It’s because of that red marker we had.) 

I meet as well Kat, a person whose backgrounds of both Chinese and Germanic descent mirror mine. I’m surprised by how well-dressed Caroline of Massachusetts is! We have quite a few from Massachusetts here. I pass along warm wishes, “Minglaballers for life,” from a past college classmate to two Trainees who trained with him in Peace Corps Myanmar before the global evacuation that followed Peace Corps China’s and Mongolia’s evacuations.

One Last Night

That night after staging’s main day concludes, I return to the place where Becky (and now 'rock' star Solomon) is staying in Bellevue. It was here last summer that I received the very silver journal in which I'm writing my current experiences. Tonight Becky cohosts here a talent show that's more of an open mic.

For my act, I share the story of how “Frozen II” moved me during evacuation. With its significance on the floor, I sing an unrehearsed, "Show Yourself.” They receive my song well. The night reminds me of when I similarly performed the song once during the pandemic back at my college parish, the spring preceding our other younger sister Vana’s future fiancé’s graduation party. 

Throughout the Saturday too I’d checked with Alaska Airlines on the status of my missing backpack, but no specific luck. It feels too much like the summer’s Munich ordeal awaiting my bag from Singapore and Qatar. I pray everything just arrives in time. 

Sunday in America

My final morning in America, I get back on the phone with Alaska Airlines to hear that my luggage made it to the airport. They lack time now to deliver it to our hotel. But it’s here in Seattle. 

My college parish community prayed for me this weekend, I learn. What could have been worse was better! I conclude that the Devil had been trying to rattle me one more time along my path back to do good ‘round our world. 

I report my bag’s return to our desk officer Nick. He commends me for my good humor. That was something my past priest would say, too. (Thanks to that priest I’d been discerning with the Jesuits after coming back from Southeast Asia.) Unfortunately, our priest retired not long after Reno’s new bishop from Seattle came and replaced him.

Sunday Service

For Sunday Mass, I find that my nearest parish is the archdiocesan cathedral! So I stroll across the bridge over roadways to attend Mass. It’s a beautiful area that reminds me of New England. During the service I consider how this was the very cathedral from which the man who made himself pastor of our parish in Reno came. 

The Mass also reminds me of parishes I attended in Southeast Asia, with their unfamiliarity yet allure. The cathedral even reminds me how last Sunday I celebrated Mass in New York’s cathedral! My prayers today are of thanksgiving not petition. Still, I hope I’ll have a Catholic parish to attend in Mongolia. I hope I won’t go long without Christ’s Eucharist! 

Heading Out 

I hustle back to the hotel after Mass, ascend the elevator to my room, grab my bags and descend again. I reunite with the Peace Corps Trainees. The friendly Nepali American Trainee Sareena leads my team. I appreciate her chill directness. 

All Trainees receive yarn of a similar color to that which Eric and I received three years ago. Though, this shade is slightly greener than our electric blue. We fasten these to our bags then cross the street to our waiting bus. 

Eric is away, however, forcing our Peace Corps community to wait a while. In the meantime, chow down on my leftover everything pizza. This seems endearing to some folks in the cohort, at least. 

We board the bus. At last Eric appears! We set off for to the airport. 

Beside me sits Ken, the likable English instructor with quite a penchant for fun methodologies. From him and an M3I Eric, I learn that quite a few of the Trainees beside Rowan have waited these pandemic years to accept their invitations to serve, as well.

I enjoy talking with Ken. He reminds me of the M3O Ken I knew, with whom I hiked in Ulaanbaatar our days before Swear-In. I missed Ken when he Early Terminated (ET). Still, I hope none of the M3Is ET.

Seattle's Airport

When we arrive back at the airport, I have to split from the group to head back downstairs to Alaska Airlines’ baggage claim. I’m glad I don’t have to be a group leader since that’s responsibility I don’t want to think about. I entrust my welbeing to the friendly Rowan. Then I beeline straight back to Alaska’s desk. 

I see my bag’s a bit dirtied. But, it’s my bag. I’ve awaited it. Desk Officer Nick had advised me to insist on compensation, so I get a brochure on how to reach customer service for compensation. I report the phase of the mission accomplished and trek back upstairs. 

Back in Time

In line before bag weighing, I help some people who feel extreme stress. This reminds me of my experience helping the M29 during evacuation. I miss her, too. 

Further along the airport line, I receive a compliment from a man for the wooden Holy Spirit cross I wear. I comment how it reminds me God is always with me. The man agrees. His daughter served in Peace Corps Namibia, he explains. He kindly lends us his luggage scale as we near the front. 

Unfortunately, Turkish Airlines calls my bags too heavy. So I, like some Trainees who came before me, must reconsolidate my belongings. I’m not too concerned, but the process annoys me. I just brute force my hope that this all works out. And it does. 

Forth in Time

I’m rewarded by seeing Sareena, tall Tom and our other leaders awaiting me. I feel consoled seeing Jeff, too, an older gentleman with good spirit. The clump of Trainees reminds me I’m no longer alone. I’m with a new community. 

Once our cohort reaches our gate, I take a video call with both my siblings and recipients of this year’s inaugural Lin Yuejun Lang Asia Scholarship. I have fun getting to speak with them before I leave the country. Our recipients seem really cool too, having studied in South Korea and Thailand. Glad my siblings get to see me having fun. 

I also have time to complain to Alaska Airlines’ customer service to get more than the normal points compensation for the baggage issue. I don’t like complaining, so I appeal to integrity. A little compensation tempers my temper some. 

Nearby, folks from the training cohort claim to recognize members of Mongolia’s famous band, the HU, who wait in line. The Trainees suggest they’re visiting home between tours. I’m surprised Trainees recognize them. Some daring Trainees even walk up for pics. I honestly can’t tell if it’s really them, and I choose not to bother. Still, it’s cool to think that may be the HU. 

The Flight

Our cohort boards. For the long flight, I'm seated with both Kat and Sareena. Our Asian American trio speaks at length from Seattle to Istanbul.

I enjoy sharing Asian roots with my new peers. Sareena strikes me as someone who could really lead, and Kat seems so thoughtful. I enjoy getting to know what’s bringing them to Mongolia as I go back. Their perspectives on culture, psych and privilege both warm and challenge me.

Across continents, I also decide to see, “X-Men: Days of Future Past.” The film both further celebrates my having seen Hugh Jackman on Broadway and feels like a sequel to my having seen in Southeast Asia, “X-Men: First Class.” I’m glad too that “Days of Future Past” has a continuity that reminds me of “X2,” which I saw so many years ago, back in school. 

Anyway, the superhero thrills keep me awake while I fight the jetlag. I don’t think I glean particularly monumental lessons from these. Neat to see President Kennedy, Peace Corps’ founder, referenced. I like Marvel flicks. 

Through Istanbul

The M3Is, Eric and I spend little time in Istanbul’s airport before we board again for Mongolia. That said, I do have time to split from the group to catch foreign Pokémon in “Pokémon GO.” I complete a raid and plant a Pokémon on a gym. I don’t expect I’ll be playing video games much after we land. 

Anyway, close enough to midnight local time, we hop back on a plane, this time for Ulaanbaatar. Seats shuffle a bit, though Kat and Sareena aren’t far. I kick off trying to rest against jetlag. 

Past about 6 a.m. local time, I hear Trainees worry about declarations and immigration. “What did you put as your visa number?” one asks, tapping my shoulder. To be honest, I hardly care. I don’t remember those responses affecting much. 

Turkish Experiences

During the flight, I also reflect on Turkish people I met lately. There was a young sports player named Ozan I met while returning to America from Europe this summer. There was a Haluk, too, the young Muslim I met in New York this month. Remembering them reminds me how connected our world is. 

I also remember, while maybe Turkish or not, a thoughtful Asian flight attendant with a dark, wavy bob who had served on our flight from America to Turkey. She stood out to me because of a time on the flight when I simply requested a snack. Another attendant had answered my request, actually. But I noticed across the plane that the female attendant said something to him. When the man returned with a snack, I received not only one but two, as well as a sour cherry juice I remember choosing from her earlier on the flight. That above-and-beyond care struck me as so in line with that personal way God loves. This is how I am to love.

I’m also still wrapping my head around the realization that I’m really going back to Mongolia. Looping in my head is “Breathe” from “In the Heights.” Two and a half years… and I’m going back. 

Peace Corps Mongolia to Ulaanbaatar

After we land in Mongolia, get our bearings and get the bannered photo, we hop back aboard our buses. We’re separated in accordance with COVID-19 mitigation standards. Peace Corps and Embassy staff step on to wish us well before we’re off. For the road, we’re treated to modest plastic bags of snacks and water. 

I sit toward the back, recalling my experience when we first came to Mongolia, and I sat there, too. This time, however, I’m without so many in this row. Social distancing limits close quarters. 

As we ride through the countryside from the new airport to the city, I remember my winter trips from the airport when I took leave. Though Mongolia had snow already in mid-October, the cold isn’t like that which I remembered from December 2OI9 and January 2O2O. Still, I feel as though having pined for this landscape. 

Unfortunately, we see across the hillside no herding occurring through a Prius. I guess we’re in the wrong season or place to spot that. Still, I recall seeing that among the biggest surprises to me in response to what our former Director of Management Operations had said, that we would, “see people do things with a Prius you [we] never thought possible.” Still, that was among the greatest things I witnessed that summer in the countryside. 

As our bus nears the city, I think back to what few adventures I’d had in the capital, getting to see friends at their apartments, for example. I’d no sense of the city’s apartment geography, so I’m not sure if I’m looking in the right direction. Still, I know I’m seeing UB. 

Re-Education

We arrive at a hotel I don’t recognize and ascend without roommates because of pandemic restrictions. The hotel is so fancy. After dropping our bags, we’re to wait some time till we can head up to the conference floor for another round of COVID testing. I’m so pleased to see again medical staff with whom I hadn’t even been close. They seem so pleased to see me, too. I'm pleased to meet in person our new Peace Corps Medical Officers, too!

Back in my hotel room, I put on my good shoes to replace my hiking boots and wear my black mask from Singapore. Then I head back to the conference center on the top floor for official opening remarks. There are some introductory health and safety sessions. I journal that afternoon of our situation, “Having a vibe like both PST and Final Center Days conferences at the same time, Eric and me, alongside 23 M3Is.” 

Swear-In

By intros’ conclusion, it’s time for a ceremony that I quickly realize is what I think it is. Our Country Director directs my fellow evacuee and to the front. I'm glad to have been wearing the very same shirt I wore when I first swore in three years ago.

In front of the room, before our audience of Trainees, our Country Director hands us new certificates. We raise our right hands. We repeat after her. This is surreal. 

Sure enough, we're sworn in. Two newsgroups interview us, GoGo Mongolia and TenGer TV. I describe in English my mother’s story that brought me here. I tell the reporters about my time teaching at МУИС /MUIS/ in Erdenet and in the orphanage.

That night, I locate in my luggage my copies of my original Swear-In documents. I really am a Peace Corps Volunteer again. My re-education begins.

In my next tale, I’ll take you through my first days back in Mongolia.

I wanted to mark this week’s International Volunteer Day with a key milestone on this blog—my return to Peace Corps service. Chronologically, my last blog story before evacuation was #28. 31 tales later (the same number as the new Peace Corps Mongolia cohort), I resume my Peace Corps Mongolia stories with this #59. 

Before landing back in Mongolia, I was visiting among North America’s most famous places, New York City. From there this time, I’d head back to Nevada. To my surprise, I would even meet someone there from Mongolia. I would help her learn more about my country while we spectated American football. Then I partook in a special walk before heading back to Vegas for packing and friend farewells before departure.

All the while, my ability to return to Mongolia hinged on a negative COVID-19 test. So I did my best to stay cautious around those with whom I met. I’d take the test in Vegas. Passing, I could return at last to Peace Corps Mongolia.

New York Arts

I pick up from rainy Wednesday, Oct. 5, 2O22, the day two months ago when I intended to fulfill a bucket list item that I hadn’t realized till this year that I could fulfill. Such was to to see a musical on Broadway. Both a long-time friend Evan in Reno and a recent friend I met on the death-defying decent from Grinnell Glacier in Glacier National Park this summer assured me I could do this for cheap. This day I go try it. 

For $49 I see my first show on Broadway. It stars Hugh Jackman in “The Music Man.” This was one of two shows (the other being “SIX”) that my friend Evan recommended. Stil I had just seen in Jamaica Plain one evening during the preceeding week that Hugh Jackman agreed to play Wolverine in “Deadpool 3,” I feel even more amazed. For from the moment Jackman proudly reveals himself with a sly grin at the first number’s end, our crowd goes crazy. Hugh’s hilarious, sings, dances and performs superbly. He seems to me among the greatest showmen. 

Opposite Jackman performs an unfamiliar star Sutton Foster, who dazzles, brilliantly. I’m amazed by how comically she emotes. Her numbers, “Goodnight, My Someone” and “My White Knight” pierce me. Her mere expression during the Act I finale captures so many feelings of conflict. She plays a delightfully stoic yet playful person. From grumpily messing around during “Marian, the Librarian” to the way she kicks her leg when exiting after Jackson’s character learns the truth, moments like these introduce me to the cheer of world-class performing arts. 

I remember too that complimentary Katy Perry concert to which I invited a friend on Ash Wednesday this year. Though that vibe was awfully different, showmanship was huge. America’s filled with such talent. 

Hugh Jackman Himself

After curtains close, I see texts from my Reno friend Evan to get him a signed Playbill and to head to the stage doors. I tug a Playbill from a stack then seek directions as to which way to go to find those stage doors. I find my way back out into the wet outdoors easily enough.

To my amazement, Hugh Jackman himself stands with a moderate crowd around, separated from him by only short metal fences. He’s in a casual hoddy and greets people with a calm, warm smile. Before long, he waves his goodbye and ducks back into the cast room. A few other cast members come ‘round back, too, where they greet folks. I’m pleased by how personable the main men are. 

The crowd thins after someone from backstage explains that Foster won’t emerge because of how the humidity will affect her hair. I linger a bit anyway and meet performance-goers who were from the Vegas valley like me! Apparently they’re even related to someone who worked backstage on costumes. Since people aren’t signing Playbills because of the pandemic, I sign Evan’s. 

I pass by the Winter Garden Theater’s raving “Music Man” reviews as I head forth understanding now the praise.

New York Bagel, Fordham and Central Park

My next morning in New York, my friend with whom I’m staying Christina takes me to wander neighboring Bronxville. Here I'm treated to the quintessential New York breakfast of the big bagel, flavorful cream cheese and characteristic coffee. I taste wonderful flavors involving raisins and hazelnuts. Then I hop aboard the train for my penultimate time into town. 

This time my destination is Fordham University. I find my way from the subway to the school’s gate. Like at Harvard, I secure a nice visitor pass online to get in. Inside, on campus, I love its beautiful buildings and grounds. I stop by centers of my interests and get to know staff, too. The worship spaces stun me. Jesuits are awesome. 

After Fordham, I head to Central Park. Walking the paths between the trees reminds me of parks in Seattle and Shanghai. I find a scenic, low stone wall beside the Met and sit upon it to finish my coffee and cream cheese bagel from this morning. I feel surprised by the variety of languages I hear from people in passing. 

Metropolitan Museum of Art

Then I enter the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I beeline for a Byzantine exhibit as soon as I’m in. I hadn’t even considered a Christian Egypt till seeing these artefacts. Medieval and Renaissance Church works further astound me when I see statues depicting familiar Saints, statues produced centuries ago, around when those very believers walked this earth. I’m baffled that the Met even tore out parts of their wall to get certain pieces inside. 

I hustle through the Met’s Asian areas after their exhibits on the ancient Greeks, Romans and Egyptians. I can’t possibly see everything. I recall my priest in Reno even having said the same. I feel nonetheless amazed by what I do see. Most impressive in those final chambers are authentic European paintings, from such artists as Van Gogh, Matisse, Caspar David Freidrich, Turner and more. I actually never get to “Washington Crossing the Delaware.” I peeked through amazing American sections such as the Tiffany windows, though. I figure when I’m next in New York, I better see Washington’s famous painting, first thing. 

New York Finale

After the Met, I walk to the nearby Jesuit parish for Mass. It too is gorgeous. After Mass, I linger outside a little, trying to route myself back north to Tuckahoe. My phone’s about to die, though. Meanwhile, people begin to gather for an event. I remember having seen a pamphlet about this event while exploring the parish where I attended the lunch hour Mass near New York University. 

I wind up going downstairs to the event hall with two people I meet outside the church. The guest speaker is a Muslim woman from Columbia University (a school I wanted to visit, which was unfortunately too far for me). A young man accompanies her inside. I mention briefly what brought me to NYC, and he asks me about my story. As I begin to charge my phone, we sit and talk for a while. He is very interested in my Catholic discernment, though Muslim. I'm fascinated by his experiences of God. I feel as though back in Southeast Asia. 

After our conversation, I continue my journey north. I reunite with Christina and her family for my Last Supper. We celebrate it at a taco place about which they’d raved for days. We're served by friends of Christina's son, which makes the visit extra fun. I even try a kind of street corn (elotes) deliciously flavored with so many things I wasn't expecting! When I get back to the house with the family, I finish my last thank-you card, for them. 

The next morning I celebrate Mass at St. Joseph's across from the train station before bidding my last thanks and farewell to Christina. 

Journey Back to the West

I disembark the Manhattan train one last time in Grand Central. The train upon which I ride drops me off conveniently nearby. This time, though, I wait in the terminal’s wide, tile lobby, searching for someone. Before long, we spot each other, waving excitedly. 

I reunite with one more fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Mongolia Volunteer, Monique, M30. She and I hadn't been very close when we were in Mongolia. Still, she had so kindly handwritten and mailed supportive cards of encouragement to me and our cohortmates the month after we evacuated. I especially liked the little leaf shape upon which she wrote mine. To speak with her now in Grand Central feels like getting to know her more fully. 

She treats me to a tasty sandwich, an iced coffee and a huge one of those iconic black-and-white cookies I’d recently heard about. I feel so fancy to get to eat in Grand Central like this. It's bittersweet and exciting too to be heading back west, ahead of my next Peace Corps adventure. But I must test COVID-19 negative on Monday to be in the clear. We hope all is well. 

As I pass from the New York transit system to JFK Airport, I recall clearly when I first came through New York for my Knight of Columbus conferences. I share with the friend with whom I attended one how I'd returned to NYC. Flying out of JFK also reminds me too of how JFK was the airport from which my Peace Corps cohort flew in 2OI9 to Mongolia via Turkey and Kyrgyzstan. JFK felt different, given my experience at his presidential library and museum the previous week. 

While aboard my flight back west, I finish my thank-you letter to the Jesuits who housed me at Boston College. I have a layover in Los Angeles, too, since my itinerary had changed due to flight nationwide cancelations. When I come through LAX, this time, though it feels too familiar. I recall having flown through this airport recently. I remember: I went through here this spring to return to Asia, en route to Malaysia, my first time overseas since the 2O2O evacuation. 

Reno and Mongolia

I disembark my last flight and step outside the airport, from which my Bostonian friend Jim whisks me to my alma mater, the University of Nevada, Reno. Mentors Joe and Mike await me. We attend the university president's tailgate (more like a pumped up outdoor party). I consider taking a photo with the president then remember I already had this summer as a senior counselor at Nevada Boys' State 2O22. 

I learn from my mentor Mike while recounting my time on Broadway that to be able to see performers’ faces is a luxury. My seat was so good that I could see just about everybody’s even slightest expressions! Now I could see why folks would pay hundreds of dollars for such a seat. 

Studet atheletes, cheerleaders and the band show off for us for the tailgate’s end. Organizers acknowledge a woman I recognized on the Board of Regents. I stride across the venue to her. I thank her personally for the help she gave me, in clothes she shared when I first prepared for service before graduating. We chat about family. I acknowledge that clothes I wear now were gifts from my Mongol host family and from my coworkers. I share gratefully that this next week I would return to Mongolia. 

At the college football game, I meet Aisulu, an English teacher who's Kazakh and teaches at a Mongol school in Bayan-Ulgii, the westernmost province of Mongolia. Aisulu is on her Fulbright. She had met the Honors College staff with whom I served, who referred her to me. I teach her about American football, which intrigues me me. Up until that night I hadn't appreciated the sport much, except in a select few childhood moments. Our central seats in this stadium probably help, though. Here, we’re right beside the center line. Seeing Aisulu feels like a final step on my path back to Mongolia. 

After the Wolf Pack loses, following their attempts to ice the kicker, I ride with Joe, Mike and Aisulu north to where Dad and Tita had parked. My folks decided to see the game too, evidently. I then ride with them back to Golden Valley, where I flop to sleep on the familiar couch that had since moved to another room of the house after the move-in of Ben, future Worthy Brother-in-law. 

Lake Reunions

Saturday morning I head for my second October to the memorial walk of my mentor, the late Ryan Lipparelli, in Sand Harbor at Tahoe. I ride with Tina, one of the new scholarship recipients. Tina also picks up Anna, a Czech friend, who wanted to catch up with me on another nature walk since my summer trip to her nation. Along the ride to Tahoe, we connect through stories. 

At Tahoe, our group also meets up with Rachel and her boyfriend Robb. I'm glad during the event to get to know Robb better, for he and I had only crossed paths a few times last academic year. As I find out when we chat, turns out he and I had experienced similar phases of limbo between receiving assignments to serve. 

I see another person at the walk, too. My eyes touch hers a few times at Sand Harbor. When she greets me at brunch after, I recognize at once she's Mackenzie, my classmate from the Honors College. We hadn't seen each other since May 2OI9 graduation, two weeks before I left for Mongolia. She's pleasant and kind, a scholarship recipient too. Coincidentally, she and another honors classmate Mackenzie both when to law school. 

Fellow Catholics, Christians

This coming Monday would be Columbus Day. So that Saturday night, I and my Chinese Catholic friend Joseph head with Bostonian Jim to a party at Immaculate Conception with local Knights of Columbus. I find hilarious a comment one makes after Joseph's introduction of studying cognitive brain science, “You won't find any of those here!"

The next morning I sleep in, given heavy sleep deprivation. When I arise mid-morning, there’s one more person I need to see. Grand Knight Tim gives me a ride to where our fellow Worthy Brother Evan has lived, from which Evan would be about to move. Evan is paraplegic, so he can’t often leave home to see us, hence why we visit him. I deliver to Evan the signed Playbill, which he accepts, with a gracious grin. We reminisce about his time in this house. I recall visiting here as an undergrad and praying with him throughout the pandemic. We see again there Evan's friend Malcolm, who’s also served around the world. 

Vegas

I take for Peace Corps my COVID-19 test Monday morning in Reno then mail it before my flight takes off. My results travel Tuesday to Quest Diagnostics while I’m getting my bearings back in Vegas. Wednesday morning before I’m out of bed I have an email. 

My test results came back negative. I report the news to Peace Corps. I receive that afternoon my medical clearance. At last, I’m cleared for take-off. In under two days, I’m to leave for service. 

Where I Learned

I give an invited talk at my high school alma mater A-TECH that same afternoon I’m cleared. I visit with teachers I missed back when I came back around with a friend during its open house the month before, in September. I drive home after the visit. 

As soon as I arrive, I notice I have a text from our diocese’s vocations director. I’d forgotten about our meeting. I call him, hear he had things to give me, and I decide to drive back to see him at a Starbucks on MLK near A-TECH. The site reminds me of a Chick-Fil-A meeting I had with a Dominican Brother not long before. The director and I share a good conversation. He gives me discernment literature for my trip overseas. 

Last Goodbyes

Wednesday evening, I'm greeted for farewells by friends Jess, Jared, Victor and Sean. With Jess I reminisce about NYC. With Jared and Victor, we remember the U.S. national parks we’d seen. I look forward to Sean's and Vivian’s wedding. I enjoy the company of these folks. Though I'm only slated to be away for a year, I realize much will change while I'm away. I won’t be around for so many things. But such is life. 

I spend Thursday morning packing both the corner room in which I've been staying amid the pandemic as well as my luggage I’m taking to Mongolia. Thursday afternoon are calls with the Honors College Community Advisory Board's executive committee followed by my last stateside call with the Springtide Ambassador Program. 

That night is my Last Supper with Dad and Tita, who take me to an Applebee's after Papa picks up Tita from Harry Reid International. I taste a happy hour white peach sangria and enjoy what I expect to be my last big American burger for a while. The sangria's size reminds me of a belated 24th birthday celebration dinner with Mickey in Reno 2O2I. The fact that it's a sangria also reminds me of my Peace Corps sitemates with whom I served in Erdenet. I recall an October 2OI9 get-together with Japanese JICA and another that November too with Korean KOICA. 

Last Steps

I pull an all-nighter packing Thursday into Friday. Throughout the night, I sip an energy drink I received in March 2O22 before I'd left again for Asia. Remembering what I brought then helps me discern now what to leave and what to take. I'm permitted two checked bags of up to 50 lbs. each as well as a carry-on and a personal item. Instead of a smaller suitcase that I took last time to Mongolia, I decide my second checked bag will be the hiking backpack I received from a Knight of Columbus for mission. I also decide, considering my trip across the U.S., to take after all my silver backpack, which was gifted by Mom in 2OI7 for my China trip before she passed. 

Friday morning, I see Dad and Tita off as they head to their appointments. I forgo morning Mass to keep packing. My friend of recent months Mason arrives Friday morning to retrieve me. He helps me with my last packing and luggage weighing, too. My luggage comes overweight, so I need to set aside many books I would have loved to bring. 

From the fridge, I draw my Last Supper’s leftovers and from a bag my remaining candy from Czechia, and we go. During the drive, I notice the completed Allegiant Stadium and remember how it wasn’t finished when I first left for the Peace Corps. I also see the New York, New York casino and feel as though I can’t see its exterior the same way after having been to NYC. The property feels too bizarre to replicate remnants of the American metropolis. As I disembark for Alaska Airlines in Terminal 3, I offer Mason much of my remaining Czech candy in thanks. 

Last Battle 

"You have three minutes," says the attendant when I approach to check in my bags. 

We weigh my bags, which she assures me are well underweight. I relate over text my relief both to Mason and to family then go through security. I’m really to fly. 

Aboard the plane, I find “Frozen II” in the film selection. I promised myself I’d only see it again when I was on my way back to Mongolia. (I even saw behind the scenes amid the pandemic.) I watch "Frozen II" for my flight. It's the first and only time I see it after having seen it aboard my final flight during the evacuation. This time, the character Anna moves me instead of Elsa. Anna’s commitment causes me to tear up this time. 

I pick up this story when I land, and staging begins. New characters emerge at once. Everything after this begins the Peace Corps Mongolia blog back in full force. 

Before I got back to Mongolia, my past month October 2O22 began in New York City. Significantly to me, NYC was the same city both from which my Peace Corps cohort and I flew to Mongolia, May 2OI9 and the same city through which I returned to the U.S. during evacuation March 2O2O. My trip last month was a joyous one, however. I was completing my ‘U.S. Farewell Tour,’ as I’ve been calling it. 

I pick up this story from having met in St. Louis, Missouri of all places a Mongolian friend I knew from Erdenet, whom I hadn’t seen since a final meet-up as I was evacuating. Following that surprise reunion, I had flown to Boston, Massachusetts. There I stayed with and dined with fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers of Mongolia, from my cohort and the one before ours. I felt amused how my ol’ friend remembered I try to keep food from going to waste. Anyway, my American journey’s last leg had begun. 

New York, New York

I catch a Greyhound bus from Boston to New York City on October’s first day, the Feast of the Little Flower. St. Thérèse of Lisieux is my youngest sister’s confirmation name. Mom had an affinity for St. Thérèse, too. Rain falls along the road. Since China, this rain reminds me of Mom. 

When my bus arrives late into Penn Station, I’ve under an hour to get from here to security for my first activity, on Manhattan Island’s southernmost point. So as soon as I disembark, backpack secured, I beeline for the metro and stride in smoothly via credit card tap entry. In this wide underground, I head straight to the nearest #1 red line heading for a station closest to Battery Park. 

The moment I hop off the line, I get my bearings in the towering North American metropolis, trekking straight through the mist along the bustling streets to seek the sea. I’ve still the troublesome sinus issues I’ve had since at least Cambridge, Mass. the weekend before. Still, I hustle on. By noon, I find my high school friend Jess and his mother Flora. We’re in the security line for the Statue of Liberty pedestal and Ellis Island ferry.  

To the Statue of Liberty

We get through the airport-like security onto a ferry to the island on which among America’s most iconic sights stands. I recall a CGP Grey video about the Statue of Liberty's island. Aboard the boat, though, as it sails, I turn back to take in the view. Though mostly cloudy, the shoreline reminds me of Lùjiāzuǐ 陆家嘴 in Shanghai, China, though less eclectic. My friend, his mom and I photograph the scenic realm along our way. I remember a framed NYC photograph our high school friend Jun took for my birthday. 

Disembarking upon the island, we ascend the pedestal and take in the views all around. Outside it, we also snap many photos, despite maintenance throughout. Before we leave, I enjoy the pedestal museum beneath the statue and learn much about how the U.S. and France were before and since the colossus’ construction. Then we swing by a second, more modern museum dedicated too to the history of the landmark we’ve seen. 

Ellis Island and Immigration History

Next stop, Ellis Island. Ellis is the name of my father’s hometown in Kansas. Kansas remains a theme for me as I explore the museum, for I reflect upon how in the first decade of the 20th century my father’s predecessors came from Austria and Volga German communities to America. 

I find the museum on Ellis Island much more illuminative than the statue museums. The open, tan tile upstairs lobby feels especially illustrative of the time before, when this isle operated as it had. I imagine great suffering here. I lament for those 2% who could not make it through. I simultaneously feel greater respect for consular officers who must judge the safety and worthiness of people each day. I wonder if I really could hack it in such a role with the U.S. Foreign Service. 

I stay on Ellis Island so long, wandering its chambers, that I bid Jess and his mom farewell while I still push through. I feel especially fascinated by railroad maps and ads, which I suspected my great-grandparents could have seen on their way to Kansas from across the Atlantic and Europe. I hope they weren’t cheated. The exhibits reveal challenging lives lived by people from so many regions. Last autumn, I had spent so many hours uncovering my ancestry. 

Museum security begins asking people to leave the exhibits upstairs, leading me to linger on the first floor as long as I can. A graph of immigration spikes in U.S. history show me all my predecessors arrived during key periods. I notice my father’s forefathers arrived during the 1900s peak, whereas my late mother came during the 1990s peak. To some degree I feel less special, knowing my family reached America at times when plenty others came. Yet, I also felt more connected to our nation’s story, knowing that my folks arrived alongside so many others’ people. 

Back to Manhattan

I take the last boat from Ellis Island back to New York, as mist to rain fall against the waves. The rides remind me of this year’s boats with my friends both to the Channel Islands National Park and in Glacier National Park. This time, however, when I disembark, I’m alone again. 

I gaze up at Lower Manhattan’s skyscrapers. The American sights give me a glimpse of the real-life Castelia City, which I’d emulated in a high school art project. I wander the Battery then take shelter from the drizzle on the steps of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton’s shrine. I'm amazed to realize a key American Saint had lived right here where businesses now surround. 

Then my friend from the Diocese of Reno, Christina, arrives through traffic to pick me up. We ride up the western road of Manhattan to reach Tuckahoe. She points out through the darkness sights like the shadowed 9/11 Memorial Pools, shining Jersey City and forested Fordham University. I’m staying with Christina and her family. The high steps and rain remind me of the Returned Peace Corps family with whom I stayed this time last year in October. This week in New York however will be about the most time I’ll have spent with Christina since when we went on pilgrimage to World Youth Day Panamá 2OI9 together.

St. Patrick's Cathedral and its Cardinal

I rise with Christina’s family the next morning for Sunday Mass at the cathedral. We drive in and find parking to be especially irksome due to this huge event taking up nearby streets with black and yellow-green signs, called PaleyWKND. Evidently New York has many such mega events taking over streets. Still, we find a parking garage near enough. Prices are quite high, though. Christina mentions when we’ll be back, for the valets do special parking jobs down in these packed, narrow garages. Then we trek for the cathedral. 

Christina’s boss Cardinal Dolan presides over Mass. She seats us toward the front, not long after a Polish event concludes. Evidently the cathedral sees many dignitaries at Mass. We sit on the left side near where the cardinal processes after. 

As the cardinal passes after Mass, I hold up his book I’d been reading for my summer’s discernment. The cardinal has a baptism afterward, though, so he doesn’t stay longer than brief smiles and waves. I wander the cathedral some more, though. I had visited four years earlier on a Knights of Columbus conference trip 2OI8. Seeing it again, yet to celebrate Mass, feels as though revisiting an old level in a past game. This time, however, the Eucharistic chapel where we prayed before is restricted. I’m glad my Grand Knight and visited it when we were here then. 

Exploration

Following the cathedral, we take iconic walks to from Rockefeller Plaza to Broadway, where I scope out “The Music Man” musical’s Winter Garden Theater and “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert” talk show’s Ed Sullivan Theater. Then I split from Christina and her daughter to attend a Chinese Mass in Chinatown. This church has a lovely mural of the Transfiguration, fitting the parish name. After Mass, I wander this Chinatown, which reminds me vaguely of those I explored in the Pacific Northwest. I walk upon the Brooklyn Bridge, too. Its rustic vibe and proximity to other sights feels beautiful. I love bridges. 

I head back north after and enjoy a wonderful supper with the family. Monday morning, I take in the train in from nearby Bronxville to Grand Central. Walking into the vast lobby of Grand Central again reminds me too of that first time I was in New York four years ago. Traveling alone feels more akin to my other recent adventures since the pandemic.  

New York University

From Grand Central I route to Washington Square Park and New York University. I like Washington’s poses in the arch’s statues. I notice that the inside of the arch has patterns that remind me both of St. Paul’s on Harvard Yard and of St. Cecilia’s in Boston. From NYC’s Washington Square Park, I then check out the Dominican Catholic Center and enjoy Mass nearby. I find out about an upcoming Jesuit interfaith event, too.

Then I reunite with a dear friend from the Honors Program [now College] at the University of Nevada, Reno. She reassures me tremendously over delicious ramen about my prospects of getting into a goal school. A standout comparison she makes is how while we were among the best in our classes at Nevada, we weren't sure how that compared us with the nation. But she found through studies for her master's at NYU that indeed we have been at the top. There's hope for me, given that even without our program, I graduated at the top. 

Memorials 

Near NYU I'm surprised to spot a memorial to the Stonewall Riots. I see people who look as though mourning by the statues here in the Stonewall National Monument. I remember the exhibit I saw in Seattle's Museum of Popular Culture last summer 2O2I. I realize, as someone in passing points out beside an ol’ jazz club plaque, I'm surrounded by historic buildings. 

After NYU, I ride the train to the World Trade Center (WTC). I'm surprised by how modern the underground area looks. It reminds me of places I had seen in Shanghai, too, as well as at Las Vegas' newest Resorts World with friends and even this spring in Singapore. I feel a little concerned though that I could fall from the underground WTC’s higher floors if I’m not careful. 

I come out of the ground into the cold and rain to spend the rest of my evening at the 9/11 Memorial. It's well worth the trip. Rain ripples across wet stones as I gaze at the solemn remains of where there once stood many people. The volume of etched names from across so many walks of life helps me see better the tragedy that befell those on that autumn day in my childhood. All the while out here the sun falls. 

Shelter From the Rain

My phone’s dying as I walk a few more blocks, wondering whether to head back to Bronxville. I’m not great with directions. I spot a Greek-looking building and feel intrigued enough to take shelter there. I'm surprised to read it's a Catholic Church. I see four beautiful statues here that have been displaying as 9/11 memorials, I learn. 

Inside the church I observe what looks like a Catholic school class of sorts. A youngish woman, perhaps in her 30s or 40s, guides grade school children to explore the sanctuary and identify certain features. I appreciate the parish name for Sts. Peter and Paul, as my confirmation Saint is Paul. After the woman and her pupils leave, I'm stunned by the collection of relics in this gorgeous little church. It’s about 4:45 p.m. when I journal “There are relics of Sts. Peter and Paul here, as well as St. Therese of Lisieux, among others. How amazing. The Spanish government donated here.” Before I leave, I find a power outlet where I can charge my phone near Pietà statue, where I pray. Michelangelo’s is my favorite depiction of Jesus and Mary. 

Phone charged with darkness falling, I stroll around the block to seek a metro entrance when I notice too a lovely-looking Protestant Church nearby. I come around the back to enter since the front’s not permitted and feel surprised inside to see a description that George Washington himself attended services there. I'm rather surprised too by the level of security this place has. Still, the guards are friendly. I’m amused by an older depiction of the turkey as America’s national bird instead of our present eagle. 

The Archdiocese

Tuesday morning, I come with Christina to an interdenominational praise & worship service with enthusiastic Audrey, a woman who runs a large component of the Alpha programs with which I became acquainted with at my college Newman Center with student coordinators and deacon candidates. The interdenominational prayer this morning reminds me of The Belonging, a primarily Baptist event I attended in Vegas back in March this year. I love experiencing different people's spiritualities. 

I feel a tad weirded out by how this church looks as though it may have been a former Catholic Church that became sold later. It has the architecture of one, even if it misses the defining items of a Catholic worship space. Either way, I feel glad this space still gets used as a church. 

After the prayer group, Christina takes me to the Archdiocese of New York office, where she works. I meet her lovely coworkers. Turns out many are connected to Fordham University and insist I take a trip. I actually hadn’t even considered till late last week when Jesuits at Boston College mentioned it to me. I decide to go ahead and visit this week, then. 

At lunch hour, Christina and I head to a nearby restaurant where I we get delicious Vietnamese food. This restaurant reminds me of a Thai at which I ate near Singapore’s Raffles Hotel this spring. After lunch, I head to Hudson Yards. By this day, I'm still having consistent sinus issues to the point that I even get a bloody nose at some point in New York. I figure perhaps something is severe but decide to just drink hot tea as often as able and to be more careful when I blow my nose. 

A Solemn Night

Hudson Yards wows me by how sleek it looks. I meet with an American Legion Nevada Boys’ State staff colleague who had more recently graduated from the Harvard Kennedy School to which I’ve been considering to apply. We share a very good tea break and warm conversation. 

As I leave back into the foggy cold, my friend mentions how access to a taller piece of art I see here became restricted after suicides off of it. I feel unsurprised though disappointed. As I reenter the bougie metro station, I remember to keep grounding myself in God’s path for me, not the paths of this world. I travel next to another parish. 

A young men's group meets this evening. Before then, I enjoy welcoming discernment discussions with the pastor. Afterward, I continue to sip tea and try to stave off whatever has been afflicting me since New England. When the others arrive, we have lovely adoration. I wish would have had Mass for the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Still, time with God is time with God. I enjoy great pasta with the men and salad before Bible discussion. From conversations with the guys, I consider the steep costs of living in New York and feel grateful to have come from Nevada. 

Christina drives to pick me up after church. She treats me to the New York tradition of its local Dunkin Donuts. Beyond this Dunkin visit, I only recall a Dunkin Donuts in Vegas where I had video calls in undergrad with mentors ahead of my trip overseas. Recalling how by the end of this month I would leave the U.S., I decide to take up the pumpkin spice latte option while it’s still available to me. That I could really leave the States feels surreal till I get that negative COVID-19 test I need to pass on Monday. 

Broadway 

Each day of my New York trip, Christina and I entered our names into a lottery in hopes of snagging cheap tickets to shows I could see as my first on Broadway. Since those efforts failed, I’m left with my original plan of seeking rush tickets. Given the advice we heard Sunday that Wednesday has the most opportunities, my day has come. Still, I worry about my prospects of snagging a ticket because school kids are on break for Yom Kippur. Still, I accept that if God wants me to have a ticket, I will get one. 

That morning around 7:30 a.m., I hop onto a train from Bronxville back to Grand Central. I receive reassurance and hope from Christina's son. This time I beeline for the Winter Garden Theatre. I wait in the rain in line from 8:30 to 10 a.m. for rush ticket sales to begin. While in line, I listen over Zoom to a video call from Michel Chambon in Singapore on the Sino-Vatican agreement. I notice on the call other familiar people I met on mission as well as at the conference last summer. 

The theatre opens not long after the call ends. Some of the fog across surrounding skyscrapers has lifted. Across the theatre exterior are posters praising its beaming stars Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster. 

As the queue winds inside, I reenter the lobby where I'd inquired Sunday about ticket options. When I reach the line's front, I request a matinee ticket. For $49, request granted! 

Fellow Peace Corps Friend

I reunite with fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Mongolia Volunteer Adam, M30. I am so glad to see him. Adam was both the first Volunteer with whom I stayed when we were first Trainees in Mongolia and the last Volunteer in our cohort I saw as we were evacuating. 

He tells me about life in New York. He and I visit the elegant New York Public Library. I recount other recent Mongolia and Peace Corps encounters. He tells me about his teaching life since a master's program. I feel delighted that he says he rang the COS Bell when he graduated, since we couldn't after evacuating.

I visit a nearby Catholic shrine that is also gorgeous. After Mass, I wander into a little bookshop. The cashier gifts me a starter set of items so that I can come back for a traditional Latin Mass. I feel a bit bad that the next night I'm actually scheduled to attend Mass at a Jesuit parish, which I suspect to be of a vibe opposite the traditional Latin Mass. Still, I appreciate the clerk's persistence and give her my contact in case she would like to reach me. 

Upcoming Blogs

New York was so in-depth that I decided to split its tales in two. So I’ll conclude it in my next entry when I at last share my experiences returning here to Mongolia. In the meantime below, you can check out my last stories leading up to life overseas and my first ones planned next: 

Southeast Asia in Malaysia and Singapore | #56 | August 2022

Central Europe, Summer and New England | #57 | September 2022

NYC and U.S. Farewell Tour | #58 | October 2022

To Mongolia at Last | #59 | October 2022

A Weekend in Kharhorin | #60 | November 2022

Senior Volunteer Resettling-In | #61 | November 2022

I cover experiences in Central Europe's Germany, Austria and Czechia followed by a couple roles this summer in the States, concluded by discernment trips around the nation. I drafted most of these remembrances seven weeks ago but hadn't concluded editing. I revisited this aboard the U.S. Peace Corps Mongolia's nearly 12-hour flight Oct. 17, 2O22 from Seattle to Istanbul en route to Mongolia.

Consider this entry “Part II of II.” I pick up where Part I left off, at last back overseas for the first time since the COVID-19 pandemic evacuated us Peace Corps Volunteers back from Mongolia. I bridge my thoughts from one journey overseas to the next, finishing the writing over the weekend ending my first week back in Mongolia, Oct. 22–23, 2O22. 

Germany and Austria | May 2O22

After having left Singapore and crossing Eurasia, I reached Munich, Germany, where fellow pilgrims awaited. I had taken a while to get through immigration and await news on where my luggage may be before I rejoined the rest of our community. In the meantime, I began to get acquainted over WhatsApp with our caring Italian guide, Maddalena.

Once I put in my bag request and accepted that the airline lost it somewhere between Singapore, Qatar and Germany, I walked from my terminal to our pilgrim group. I reunited with folks from Our Lady of Wisdom Newman Center Reno whom I hadn’t seen since March, as well as the couple who visited me in Singapore just a few days before. Even my papa, stepma (tita) and younger sister were present. On the pilgrimage too were folks from other dioceses. Our pastor Fr. Nathan led. We prayed my luggage would arrive at the hotel soon.

Bavarian Germany: Death and Light

My Day 3 of transition from mission to pilgrimage was, for the rest, their first day since leaving America. Our journey began solemnly. We traveled to Dachau and Nazi Germany's first concentration camp.

Entering the camp's vast area reminded me of seeing amid the pandemic, “The Boy in Striped Pajamas.” This wooded yet barren camp starkly reminded me of mortality. Its remnants revealed the cost at times of witness. Tiny living quarters where bishops and priests could say Mass amazed me that they could.

I felt stunned that people had intended to raze this place. Keeping the grounds here leaves a scar from the horror that transpired. At least for those who lost family, they could at least have here to come. 

My group entered the gas chambers. Though we could not take photos, I needed no photo to remember its appearance. People died there. Cremation areas stood in the chamber past where people would have been locked in. Peculiarly, I recalled having seen what seemed like the cremation spaces in a dream not long after my mother died. I supposed that the memory gave me some sense of familiarity. I felt less worried about my missing bag.

Hope in Darkness

I loved praying the Mass at the Carmelite Monastery at Dachau. We'd entered it through a guard tower, which added to the feeling that prayer sanctifies. The two-sided chapel separated by a screen gave an infinite appearance. Oh, the love beyond horror…

That night, I met near our Munich hotel with one of my St. Francis Xavier Lay Missionary Society predecessors, who had come to Germany for the Oberammergau Passion Play, just as I had. He mentioned some tidbits of Church architecture from his time studying from Benedictines.

During our chat, I found that the German beverages really did taste nice. Alcohol no longer deterred me. Returning swiftly to the hotel after, though, I discovered I'd lost the Cool Turtle Tita had gifted, one that had served me well in choir. I would miss it.

Day 4: Altötting and Munich’s Nymphenburg Palace

By the following morning, Day 4 my lost luggage had arrived. The day felt on a more stable start. Our group bussed to Altötting. The village reinforced yet more my newfound awe at the generations of Catholicity even among kings and emperors. That they literally gave their hearts to the shrine of Altötting quite shocked me.

Our group prayed Mass that morning with Capuchin Franciscan friars in a lovely church where St. Konrad was buried. I remembered meeting a Conrad in Malaysia. The church's modern minimalist design reminded me of the Franciscans with whom I had stayed mere days before in Singapore.

After Mass, we wandered Altötting. The village center had gorgeous churches including a Jesuit Baroque one. We saw a papal basilica! I tended to love especially paintings of the Assumption and the Annunciation. I also tended to seek depictions of Carmelite, Dominican, Jesuit and Franciscan Saints. 

We returned to Munich and saw major, elegant and historic sites such as the Marienplatz. Day 4 ended stressfully, however, when I forgot my late mother’s purple water bottle in the lobby of the Nymphenburg Palace. Thankfully, our thoughtful tour guide Maddalena helped me to book a cab. I learned that speakers of English as a second language do much better talking to each other in English than with native speakers. As a teacher and language learner, I realized this made sense. 

Oberammergau Passion Play

Day 5, we traveled to Oberammergau for its Passion Play. My sister Vana and I spotted a woodcarving shop named “Lang,” our family name. We got a photo outside it, and she bought a wooden cross within. She’d later gift it to Therese, the office manager at Our Lady of Wisdom Newman Center and her former boss, who has a wall of crosses. Before the Passion Play I also saw the incredible church in Oberammergau on whose grounds people once performed the Passion Play. During the intermission, I decided to purchase a CD of the chorus’ music. 

As for the Passion Play itself, that German chant music was among the best I’ve experienced. Though the show was in German, our book of the script reminded me of the Chinese and Mongolian as well as Latin-to-English missals I've read before.

I loved the show's outdoor seating and six hours’ setting sun. I loved most the Living Images (tableau vivants), which had such gravitas with the chorus’ sound. I felt amazed at how quickly key moments of Jesus’ life played out on stage.

With the outdoor setting of clouds rolling and birds chirping across the life of Christ, I realized more deeply how God entered and left this world on a day as mundane as ours. Yet millennia later, we found ourselves in a village perhaps known to my ancestors, where people have performed God’s story for centuries. I felt amazed to think that this place so unfamiliar to me could have been a place to which my own forefathers journeyed, too.

Austrian Joy

Pilgrimage Day 6 began on a lighter note with the ‘fairy’ King Ludwig II, whose Neuschwanstein Castle we saw inspired Walt Disney. I loved his dedications there to Jesus and the apostles. I also enjoyed more Bavarian breakfasts and continued my habit of trying different pretzels daily. In quaint Fussen, I got a Bavarian hot dog! Our pilgrim group dipped in and out of Germany and Austria till the day’s end when we arrived in Salzburg. 

Day 7, Salzburg felt so lovely. The window from our hotel in Salzburg reminded me both of the view I saw from the Knights of Columbus headquarters in New Haven, Connecticut 2OI7 and the view I saw last fall 2O2I on conference in Portland, Ore. From there we set forth to see the city.

We learned about a local hero, St. Rupert. We also got to spot many places where “The Sound of Music” filmed. I felt glad to have seen that film amid the pandemic.

Mozart was huge in the area. His birthplace amazed me by its Catholicity. I hadn’t realized that so many famous people of our times had shared my faith. I got to lector our first reading during the Mass in an ancient side chapel of St. Peter’s. I felt in awe to think that very known people received their sacraments where I got to proclaim God’s Word. 

Amid the Bavarian journey, architectural styles about which I got used to hearing were Baroque, Rococo and Gothic. Around 5:45 p.m. I note, “The angelically cantankerous clanging of these churches’ bells.” I enjoyed Europe's presence.

Vienna Celebration

Day 8, we saw Vienna. St. Stephen’s Cathedral and its surrounding plaza reminded me of Munich, where we began. I felt delighted to see a Kiwanis International logo, too! As for Vienna, the high baroque abbey of Melk we also visited looked gorgeous. We celebrated Mass in an extremely ornate sacristy. Benedictines really know architecture! I liked how we got to pray the Divine Office in German. I understood some translations! 

Once we reached our Vienna hotel that night, Fr. Nathan bought drinks. We celebrated how while we've been on pilgrimage, Pope Francis elevated one of Fr. Nathan’s seminary classmates Bob McElroy to cardinal. I also felt delighted that bishops in Mongolia and Singapore ascended. With essentially open bar access, I tried some Austrian wine, plus a gin and tonic with Botanist. I like sweet and sour most. 

Day 9, we saw glorious palaces, such as the Habsburg palace, Schönbrunn. I enjoyed the Danube River. Frankly, we'd seen so many places and things this whole trip. Perhaps at a later date, I'll scroll through my booklets, journal entries and photo history to name all.

Our final stop of the pilgrimage was the gorgeous and at times simple abbey of Cistercians (also Benedictines). I loved their blend of Gothic and Baroque. On May’s last day, enjoying our last supper, we said goodbyes in Vienna. Colorful upside-down umbrellas adorned the narrow stone alleyway beside where we stayed. Our guides encouraged us to see Rome and Italy. 

Czechia, Kansas and Nevada | June 2O22

From Vienna the next morning (Day 1O) I took a train to Prague, Czechia. The scenic countryside reminded me of taking the trains across China, summer 2OI7. This time aboard the ride, in Europe, I met someone speaking Chinese too—from Malaysia!

In Praha, I reunited with pilgrim friends I met at World Youth Day Panamá 2OI9. We walked over a dozen incredible sites, up to, around and across the river. So many incredible churches. The good St. King Wenceslaus was relevant. My friends were so kind!

The apartment in which we stay some distance from downtown reminds me distinctly of the apartment in which I stayed just outside of the main part of Erdenet, Mongolia, as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I realized the commonality of the post-Soviet periods. Sleeping in the apartment felt like a meaningful first step on the path back to Mongolia. 

Day 11, I experienced a Mass in Czech! My last supper in Praha included many goods recommended to me by a Czech student who began attending Our Lady of Wisdom Newman Center after having entered as a freshman the fall before, in 2O2I. She and I had gotten to hike together the spring before I went on mission. I looked forward to sharing with her what I experienced.

Onward Across America

Day 12, I saw Mozart's grave before a rush to the airport. I recalled a New Haven, Conn. 2OI7 experience of the same. Many of my solo journeys have wrapped up with pleasant cemetery visits.

From Czechia, I flew from to Paris, Francis, to Detroit, Michigan to Nashville, Tennessee, to Kansas City. The road felt wild, but the tickets were more affordable. Historically, my Austrian ancestors emigrated from modern-day Czechia to Kansas, which made my transatlantic trip feel more special. Eventually I reached Topeka, Kan. for my cousin Sarah’s reception after wedding Noah. I enjoyed how the uncle and aunt with whom I stayed had also been in Singapore, Germany, Austria and Czechia, which gave me lots to talk about.

Siblings and I had driven from Vegas after my youngest brother’s high school graduation to see Cousin Sarah and Noah in Arizona May 2O2O, after I wrote my Mothers’ Day reflection. Seeing them married just over a couple years later was a lovely experience. That Arizona trip, which connected to a family adventure at Saguaro, Capitol Reef and Great Basin National Parks as well, was also fun for letting me progress in the “Blue Lions” story of my younger sister Becky’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses.” 

Journal Swap

Monday, June 6, 2O22, aboard the aircraft heading from Kansas to Vegas, I logged my last entry in the black hardcover Journal #16. I had received it Christmas 2O2O from my youngest new stepsister Nikki as a Secret Santa gift, the same year our parents married. I was at that Christmastime about to begin penning in the cork journal my sister Becky gifted me the Christmas 2OI9 before. I began writing in Nikki’s journal nine months later, Sept. 17, 2O2I, during my first diocesan conference in Vegas. It accompanied me all the way around my most recent circumnavigation of our globe. 

After Kansas, I returned briefly to Vegas, where I began writing in my silver Journal #17 from my 24th birthday, Seattle 2O2I. I carpooled to Reno to counsel my first in-person American Legion Nevada Boys’ State conference since 2OI6. Turns out my cousins in Kansas had also headed to Boys’ State.

Nevada had only four on Boys' State staff this year counting me, as opposed to our usual years of dozens on staff. So I got promoted to senior counselor, which felt rad. I did so well, I received the "Spirit Award." Our awarded commented they considered calling it the, "Daniel Lang Award," because I'm such a person.

I remained in Reno for the final Masses of our beloved pastor retiring. I felt glad to have experienced his final month as our pastor on his pilgrimage through Europe. I teared up while singing for him our farewell, an Irish blessing. 

California, Nevada and Beyond | July 2O22

When July began, I worked as a Lions Club summer camp counselor for disadvantaged children of rural Nevada, as hired on by my parish friends I saw in Singapore, Germany and Austria, Murshed and Sarah. We spent the week out in Portola, Calif. I saw an American ger (yurt) there, which felt like a second step on the path back to Mongolia.

Camp was where I technically celebrated my 25th birthday. I enjoyed archery (first time!), kayaking and swimming that day since they were among the activities. I also summited the Alpine Tower (MTV) before the week’s end, which was rad. When I got back to Reno, a couple friends treated me to a more proper celebration, including Marvel Studios' newest film. A stranger after bought us shots too, which was kind! The lil' bar brought L.A. to mind.

In entertainment news, I’ve kept up with Marvel Studios’ films. I don’t have Disney+ but enjoy cinemas. Last September 2O2I in Vegas I saw “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” with my older brother and his girlfriend. Then in November with Newman Center students in Reno I drove some to see “Eternals.” That December before the KofC wedding, I saw “Spider-Man: No Way Home” with Murshed and Sarah. While on mission in Singapore, I brought young adults to see “Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.” 

And as a belated Birthday 25 adventure in Reno after the mission and pilgrimage, I saw with friends “Thor: Love and Thunder.” I preferred "Shang-Chi," "Eternals" and "Spider-Man," though. When “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” releases, I’ll be back in Mongolia! Perhaps I’ll see it with students as I had with “Ip Man 4.” Or maybe I’ll see it with a lovely lady, such as with “Abominable.” Either way, I hope to see it with folks. 

Change

My first Sunday back in Reno, I also experienced our parish’s new leadership. Some compared the feeling to when, in "Harry Potter," Snape became headmaster after Dumbledore. I certainly felt since then out of place in that ol' home many times. I felt dismayed that many I knew left the parish. Still, I persevered in prayer.

Since the campus outreach minister role fell through due to a change in leadership, the rest of July into August I recuperated in Vegas, given the many months of travel and service. I underwent what I called my ‘quarter-life crisis.’ Amid this period, I felt convinced to seek foreign service as my next career step. Still, I followed through on my commitment to my ol' pastor to experience discernment with the Jesuits. 

Since I forgot my recently-begun Journal #17 in Reno, I preemptively began Journal #18 before the Jesuit retreat in Culver City near Los Angeles. I liked writing in it on retreat, though, since it was modeled after an illuminated manuscript of Genesis. Hence, it felt Biblical. (Journals #17 and #18 were both gifts from my 24th birthday 2O2I.) 

Vegas, Reno and Montana | August 2O22

Back in Vegas, I returned to daily Masses at St. John Neumann. I began to feel again the stability of attending Masses there before mission. Our parish wished its summer seminarian farewell. I answered the call to our parish's Visitation Ministry, remembering my friends I served in Reno.

Mother’s birthday came with the Feast of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. St. Clare’s feast followed shortly after. I penned a special thank-you that day.

In video-gaming news, after two and a half years, I finally completed the “Blue Lions” story of “Fire Emblem: Three Houses.” I had heard about the game fall 2OI9 in Mongolia. I began it spring 2O2O on Becky’s Switch and finished it on my older brother’s and his girlfriend’s Nintendo Switch. Coincidentally the game features a years-long time skip. That made my prolonged campaign feel more realistic. I don’t prioritize video games the way I had when I was a teen… Nor do I expect to be gaming overseas. 

Reno and a Mongol

At August’s end, I headed back to Reno to welcome new honors students to my alma mater. I carpooled with the family who led my home parish’s music ministry at SJNC. A daughter of the family had been one of my family foundation’s first scholarship recipients, back in 2O2I. In 2O22, my siblings and I awarded our second year of high school recipients and our first year of undergraduate ones.

In Reno again, I felt particularly excited to meet in person a Mongolian undergraduate student I taught last summer online, who had come to work this summer on a U.S. Department of State J-1 Visa Exchange Visitor Program. On that visit, my thesis mentor also recruited me to give a talk for a speaker series online on Oct. 12, just two days before I'd leave for Peace Corps service! 

During the week, I met too with a couple of older gentlemen from Boston, Massachusetts. A priest celebrated a beautiful Mass that honored me as a 'non-hypocritical' Christian going to serve overseas soon. One particularly enjoyed my Irish blessing to Fr. Nathan, for they too were Irish, and Fr. Nathan had introduced one to the other. The kind men treated my student and me to delicious IHOP, her first time dining in an American restaurant. Seeing her felt like a third experience along my path back to Mongolia. 

Glacier National Park, Montana

Then I returned to Vegas both to rehearse my singing for the diocesan conference and to embark with Victor and Jay Li on a trip to Glacier National Park in Montana. I had previously seen Jay on other recent trips with the crew, before my time back abroad. For Glacier, we flew into Missoula, rented a car then drove. We stocked up at Costco then hiked many places.

As a jarring start, Victor and I could have died at Grinnell Glacier. Lightning almost immediately followed by thunder crashed around us by the water. We took cover under some trees as the hail and rain drenched us. On the path down, we saw a double rainbow, three big-horned sheep and made new friends at a dangerous crossing. 

Turns out many of the new friends were from New York, so I hoped to see them during my visit in October! The next day on Pitamakan Dawson, we met Melissa Running Crane, a native Blackfoot woman. From her, I learned that one of the professors at my alma mater, a Running Wolf, was from Browning, where the hostel at which we stayed was! I drove a bit to and from the National Park, as well. 

Sunday, we hiked Cracker Lake and the Hidden Lake overlook, though our legs hurt. Thankfully, I found a sturdy branch to be my walking staff. Later I borrowed one of Jay's trekking poles. In total, I hiked 43 miles in the three days. 

From Coast to Coast | September 2O22

Labor Day weekend began more fully my U.S. 'farewell tour,' with my last National Park trip alongside Victor and Jared for a while. This time we hit Colorado's Black Canyon of the Gunnison, Blue Lakes Trail and Mesa Verde. Amid the weekdays, I visited my high school alma mater with a friend, wandering around during its open house. Teachers were so kind. 

After the last parks trip was the Vegas diocesan conference, where I sang for my second year in its choir. I felt amazed to realize how much I'd grown in the past year, since my first Vegas diocesan conference. Singing in the Reno Phil really aided my musicality, too.

I felt glad to welcome my lil’ sister Vana to her first diocesan conference. It amazed her. I felt amused that she described our bishop as ‘aristocratic.’ I had chatted with him before a few times and hadn't named the aura. I felt in awe, though, to experience that weekend a live panel of Dr. Scott Hahn, Mark Wahlberg and Bishop George Leo Thomas on “Father Stu.”  The bishop had mentioned the film to me in a discernment conversation back in March. 

Utah Retreat

The weekend after conference, my siblings and I went on our first retreat, in Beaver, Utah. I would be heading overseas in less than a month, and our youngest sister Vana would marry next September, the first among us. So this was the last time we five would be together as five singletons in person. I enjoyed the fun and fellowship. A hike, campfire, games and hot springs under budget. That weekend I revealed how I accepted abandoning my previous China dream to instead pursue graduate studies in America if given the chance. 

My U.S. farewell tour officially began the Monday right after my siblings’ and my return to Vegas, that Sunday night. I said farewell to my parish at SJNC for the next year. Then I flew with my backpack as my carry-on to St. Louis, Missouri and America’s east. I would be away for three weeks. 

St. Louis, “Rome of the West”

I flew that night into St. Louis to discern in the historic Kenrick Seminary. Our new bishop and pastor in Reno had supported me to make the arrangements. I had been reading a Cardinal Dolan book he gifted me, which mentioned Kenrick Seminary.

When I landed, I felt greeted by the opportunity to pray in an airport chapel. I enjoyed hearing Thelonious Monk over the airport speakers. I felt like I was in a very special slice of the Midwest. 

The men at Kenrick were astoundingly kind. The classes were stellar. I learned there is a Jesuit school in the area, too, St. Louis University (SLU). I remembered Loyola Marymount from the Jesuit retreat in Culver City. While in St. Louis, I also enjoyed Ted Drewes, touched the Arch downtown and took in the new basilica as well. 

I even reunited with a Mongol I knew in Erdenet 2OI9 to 2O2O, Davaakhuu! In fact, she was one of the final Mongols I saw, the night before I departed from my city. Turns out Davaakhuu was working in St. Louis, summer 2O22. The seminarians and I invited her to come take in the sights with us while I was around, and she wound up entering her first church, that basilica. Seeing her not long after having met my student in Reno felt like another step on my path back to Mongolia. 

Boston and Cambridge When September Ended 2O22

I rode on a stormy night from Kenrick back to the airport then flew to Boston to see Jesuits and schools. Rain reminds me of Mom. I rode so many hours after landing to reach Jamaica Plain from the Airport. Thankfully, the Orange Line on which I rode had just reopened. Still, it still faced many delays. Nonetheless, I enjoyed bonding with those with whom I rode. 

The next morning’s 10:30 a.m. turkeys in the driving lane were hilarious! I wandered with an Irish priest. I felt surprised to experience Mass at a small chapel in the urban Prudential building that day. Freedom Trail after the Commons and Gardens was lovely, despite the rough weather. Columbus lost his statue. I needed to mail Kenrick back my room key since I’d forgotten it. After I mailed it I realized I was right by Berklee College of Music. Right around the corner was St. Cecelia’s Street, where I found a parish I would wind up attending the next morning! 

I reconnected with friends from high school and after college. I saw historic sights like the Old Statehouse and Old Ironsides. I got to try many local foods, like seafood mac and cheese, a recommended North End cannoli and a lobster roll sandwich on the Commons. I enjoyed the ‘T’ and understood the story behind Charlie Cards, named for that man on the MTA. (Though, a Peace Corps friend reminds me that's now the MBTA.)

I experienced many Catholic parishes and enjoyed the heritage of the area. My Sunday went from a Mandarin Mass at St. James the Greater in Chinatown to the new cathedral in English! I then walked to St. Cecelia’s, where I would wind up celebrating Mass in the following morning. Then I experienced the best acoustics I’d ever heard in a parish, at theirs. I also met Harvard Divinity School students, who suggested I apply to their program. 

I saw so many friends, reconnecting with ol’ Peace Corps allies as well as friends of others’ friends. As far as schools, I saw and experienced Boston University, Boston College, Tufts Fletcher School and Harvard Kennedy and Divinity Schools. I loved Harvard’s libraries and staff. Additionally, I saw the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum as well as the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) Boston. Both were gorgeous, insightful. I met at Boston College a Jesuit named Václav, reminding me of Prague!

Seeing the original Peace Corps Act in JFK’s Presidential Museum was particularly moving, given my Peace Corps Reauthorization advocacy. I'd even stayed with an M29 Peace Corps Mongolia Volunteer and seen again a fellow M30. Those were great times.

From Boston to New York

I began to feel the sniffles by my first weekend, staying in Cambridge. I attributed this to having gone from Vegas desert weather to pouring New England rain from my very first morning. So, I tried to take it easy on pushing myself too hard. I still visited schools and parishes I intended to see but kept extra vigilant on avoiding the spread of whatever I may have. I would need a negative COVID-19 test as early as the Monday before I’d fly to Peace Corps Mongolia, so I feared issue.

I left the Boston area Saturday morning for the South Station, from which I would take a Greyhound to New York. The journey across town on the buses and Green Line was a bit frantic at first, but eventually it worked out. That filled me once more with joy. 

Next Stop, Mongolia

When I write next on the blog, I write from Mongolia and how I arrived. I’ll include too the October days leading up to my trip, for I find them essential to the experience. Two and a half years out of Mongolia, I realize I am a different person indeed than the me who left long ago. 

You can read more from me here at memoryLang.tumblr.com :)

Emerging Abroad From COVID-19April 2021 through October 2021

Easter: Redwoods, Light | #52 | April 2021

Mothers’ Day, Driving and Sound | #53 | May 2021

L.A., Graduations and “La La Land” | #54 | May 2021

Serendipitous Seven Months | #55 | November 2021 

Southeast Asia in Malaysia and Singapore | #56 | August 2022

Less than two months from now I’ll be back in Mongolia, serving again with the United States Peace Corps. It won’t be long now. 

The noble Vanessa from humble beginnings sang “It Won’t Be Long Now” during Lin Manuel-Miranda’s “In the Heights.” I saw his film adaptation June 3, 2O22 aboard my first transatlantic flight since Peace Corps Mongolia’s evacuation 2O2O. The flight saw me from Paris to Detroit, on a particularly bizarre itinerary from Prague through Paris, Detroit and Nashville, ultimately to Kansas City. Thankfully it was affordable! 

I’ve nine months of tales to share with you since I last blogged on this site. So much has changed. 

On a much needed walk yesterday evening (Aug. 17, 2O22) in the Vegas heat, I pictured as though stretching my hand to a dark, crystalline wall. When my fingers touched its central indent, the crystals' darkness illuminated at once with a multitude of possibilities for future versions of me playing out across the shining walls. I claimed one of these crystal stories and held it close to my heart. From this shard grew more. Before long I was suited in a shimmering armor of cyan, teal and aquamarine. The road ahead would not be easy, yet I felt protected against woes that would attempt to demoralize. I chose the ‘foreign service’ path. 

I share this anecdote because I think it suits the ultimate decision from these past nine months of development. In the time since I last wrote here, I have at last become aware again of my sanity’s need for me to log what I find, perhaps to make sense of it. I share the fruits of that sense-making with you. 

Consider this blog entry a “Part I of II.” This entry will tackle the winter and spring from here to abroad, December 2O2I through the mid-May 2O22. Part II pick up overseas from May 2O22 through my reacclimating to then leaving again America amid summer’s end. 

Why Write Now? 

I have another story for you. Earlier that night (Aug. 17), before my walk, I was catching up on “The Chosen,” a series recommended to me by the kind American Christian couple I’d known when I’d lived in Erdenet, Mongolia, fall 2OI9 to spring 2O2O. The next episode for me that night was season 2, episode 2. Coincidentally, I had already seen clips from this one three weekends prior on a Jesuit vocational retreat at their novitiate in Culver City, near Los Angeles. Fr. Radmar Agana Jao, SJ, who led the retreat, played for my fellow nine retreatants and me clips conveying the call of Nathanael. 

In that night’s watching, Philip’s kindness to Matthew spoke more to me. Matthew in the series is a writer, who records what happens on the journey. In Matthew I recognized me, who writes because that’s what I do. (Or at least, that’s what I had been doing.) I’m grateful that “The Chosen” Season 3 is in development. 

Call to Mission | December 2O2I

Dec. 3, 2O2I, on the Feast of St. Francis Xavier, I received an invitation to serve in Asia with the St. Francis Xavier Lay Missionary Society. As I had written last Nov. 2O2I, I’d been singing first tenor in the Reno Philharmonic Chorus for "Spirit of the Season" concerts at the downtown Pioneer Center for the Performing Arts. I still remember having just parked before our opening night show, sitting with my tuxedo on in the ol’ silver 2OO5 Camry LE when I saw that email they invited me. 

Later that December, as I’d written last November, I wound up attending the wedding of my Knights of Columbus mentor Worthy Phillip, who had helped teach me to drive when I was an undergrad. Since flight prices rose too high before my friend Halley had purchased, she couldn’t make it. Serendipitously, the sister of my fellow Knight Thomas had also wanted to attend the wedding. So I attended with Worthy Thomas and two of his sisters. Interestingly, the sister with whom I went attended Benedictine College in Kansas, from where my Dad’s family comes. 

I enjoyed staying that weekend on the ranch of my Worthy Brother and attending my first Tridentine Mass with his family the following Sunday. We attended Saint Joseph's Catholic Church in Modesto, Calif. Turns out that Latin I studied during the pandemic’s first autumn came in handy! I hadn’t recalled whether I’d received Holy Communion on my tongue prior to this, so that felt new to me. The kind community reminded me of fellowship at the St. Vincent de Paul parish in which I grew up in southern Indiana till our family’s 2OO8 move. 

Extended Family Adventures

Following these, and according to plan, I returned to Vegas for Christmas and headed to Kansas for my first Lang Christmas get-together since perhaps December 2OI4 when I was a senior in high school. For the trip, I stayed with my youngest brother’s godparents, who were also my most Bavarian German and Austrian culturally-inclined uncle and aunt. We spoke so much about the faith I have come to know as a young adult. My uncle had also worked in Singapore and recommended I check out the Bird Park there.

I felt such love among our relatives. We gathered at an older aunt’s home where I still recall having learned to play the card game War as a first grader from my slightly cousin Sarah nearly 2O years ago. (The reason why in June 2O22 I would fly into Kansas City would be to attend her wedding reception in Topeka.) Some relatives were into wearing masks against COVID-19, and others weren’t. Regardless, I kept safe! 

Resolution and Formation | January 2O22

Back in Vegas after that heartwarming trip to see my Kansan family, I reunited with ol’ classmates from my high school Class of 2OI5. Of particular delight was reuniting with my friend from even earlier, middle school Class of 2OII, Damaris, who was performing with her band on New Year’s Eve atop Taverna Costera in the Arts District. There I met her rad boyfriend and bandmates, too! I’d driven Dad’s gigantic pick-up again, since my Camry was up in Reno. 

My new year’s 2O22 theme was “rhythm.” I quickly realized that rooting my unstructured days and weeks in prayer certainly helped me to have something familiar each day. I began to realize soon how many lovely feast days happen every season! 

With the New Year, I was getting back into the swing of attending weekday Masses at my home parish of St. John Neumann. In addition to celebrating the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, I was even present for other Christmastide Masses, including our parish feast day on Jan. 5. After the SJNC feast day Mass, we enjoyed a light reception in the familiar fellowship room. 

At fellowship I got to catch up with Mary Santos. A couple years ago, she and I chatted in this very room as I applied to volunteer with the Diocese of Las Vegas as a music minister in our parish. She too recalled our conversation, how we'd chatted chatted about my being a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer fluent in both Mandarin Chinese and Mongolian. Nearly two years later, as a lay missionary postulant tasked with fundraising for my journey back to Asia, Mary was a huge advocate. She recorded me to introduce myself and our cause to the parish through video announcements.

Later that Jan. 5 feast day, I noticed “Violet Evergarden: Echo Through Eternity” on Netflix. I devoured the film at once. I felt deep feels, tearing up on five occasions. To this day, I still listen to Evan Call's music on its soundtrack. I still recall deeply words from its protagonist Violet in her final letter of thanks. 

From Austin, Tex. to Los Angeles, Calif.

The next week met again with musician and videographer friend Damaris. I taped with her a Lunar New Year’s piece not long before she would leave for Austin, Tex. Then I left for Austin.

I enjoyed a bittersweet wrap-up of my work at Modern Intelligence with childhood friend Joe. I met new hires since my coming aboard. In Austin I also reunited with one of Damaris’ and my mutual friends from high school, Brian, as well as his kind girlfriend Sofi. (I hadn’t seen them since a fall 2OI8 conference there!) I saw more friends in Austin, too including fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Malin! I began as well my monthly participation online with the Springtide Ambassador Program in the sociology of religion. 

When our week ended, I flew straight to Los Angeles for a National Park trip to Channel Islands with pals Victor, Jared and more. On my flight from Austin to L.A. I felt as though entering the start of a new book, as I return overseas. (Now to finish typing its 2OI7–2O2O predecessor…) In L.A., I took in their Natural History Museum and realized it was the architecturally pretty building that stood across from sister Becky’s campus at graduation May 2O2I, some six months before. The trip with my buddies became my sort of farewell trip, after having for months embarked with them on such travels.

From Reno, Nev. to San Francisco, Calif. 

From L.A. I flew back to Reno for a surgery on my remaining health insurance, gave a talk at a local Kiwanis Club virtually, packed what I needed for mission formation, then boarded an Amtrak bus to San Francisco. I arrived that Jan. 2O night. Upon seating for dinner, I found from my director that instead of heading to Hong Kong, for which I was originally invited, we were instead likely to serve in Singapore. The amount of times life has redirected me from China prepared me for this. 

The parish with which I stayed in San Francisco happened to be pastored by the same Fr. Illo who had presided before in Modesto. So the family with whom I stayed in December also knew him. To my great amazement, teachers I met at the parish had also been childhood friends of my Brother Knight Thomas, at whose home I'd stayed the month before, in December!

On a weeknight Mass in the parish, we also received Communion on the tongue, which now felt a little more familiar. I loved gazing at the fresco of Mary in this Stella Maris “Star of the Sea” shrine church. I loved access to perpetual adoration there, too. 

Preparations and Patience | February and March 2O22

After formation with the lovely Dominicans of St. Dominic’s, Salesians at St. Peter’s and Paul’s, Missionaries of Charity in Pacifica and Franciscans at Stella Maris, I frantically caught a Greyhound back to Reno. Events led me to feel the great inspiration to continue learning about St. Teresa of Ávila, among my heroes. I also felt curious to investigate this St. Edith Stein about whom I kept hearing.

I continued my formation practices of the Divine Office and Eucharist weekday mornings. A morning at our local Carmelite Monastery, gazing down at my brown scapular labeled “Our Lady of Mt. Carmel,” I inquired about St. Teresa. Sr. Cecelia delighted at my question and brought from the library St. Teresa’s “The Life.” Sr. Cecelia also mentioned to me that St. Edith Stein had read this very story and converted. What a patron!  

I took time in Reno to drive where I used to live in Sparks on Wildcreek Drive. The week after, I packed all my Reno belongings and drove the farewell road with my Camry down to Vegas. ‘Twas my first and only time to make the solo trip. Days later, Feb. 2I, 2O22, I sold my Camry to my youngest stepsister at the price for which I bought it. I was a grateful steward of the venerable machine. I’d retrieved from it my phone mount and Bluetooth connector and transferred these to Dad’s truck. 

Having Sold My Possession 

Throughout March, I prayed with local Third Order Carmelites in formation at my home parish, St. John Neumann, as I waited to go on mission. Three times I had to rebook my Southwest flight from Vegas to California. International delays postponed my flight from Vegas to Singapore, which would land ultimately in Malaysia, where our trip would begin. In the meantime, I finished, with generous support from parishioners and Knights of Columbus, my fundraising. What a relief. 

Since my beloved pastor Fr. Nathan in Reno announced his retirement, I returned to Reno after students’ spring break, riding with the undergraduate Glee Club president, a friendly Lutheran senior. I stayed with an Australian friend and his family, hearing stories from travel to Malaysia and Singapore years ago. In Reno, I witnessed the dress rehearsal of this year’s Living Stations of the Cross. This was the first performance in person since 2O2O. I also spoke with Fr. Nathan, who suggested I consider after mission priesthood with the Society of Jesus. 

During my last days in Vegas before mission, I had the opportunity to attend the funeral of a beloved priest, Fr. Philip O'Donnell. Apparently he had been a champion of the Tridentine Mass in Vegas. I felt stunned to hear in our auxiliary bishop’s homily that Fr. O'Donnell had also frequented both St. Dominic’s in SF and the Carmel of Reno. During my night before mission departure, I attended the Chrism Mass and saw again old friends, including, to my amazement, the Deacon Dan who presided over my mother’s funeral five years ago. 

Malaysia and Singapore | April and May 2O22

I left Vegas for Los Angeles on April 1, no joke. Getting through LAX with the COVID-19 PCR test was nuts. I made it aboard. Getting to know two flight attendants on Singapore Airlines felt touching. 

I arrived in Kuala Lumpur then Petaling Jaya (PJ), Selangor, Malaysia. (I later learned that a high school classmate of mine was born in PJ!) In PJ, my director and I attended a Congregatio Discipulorum Domini (CDD, Congregation of the Disciples of the Lord) parish St. Ignatius.

Turns out the father of the host family with which we stayed is a Kiwanian, wow! I loved the Chinese Catholic communities overseas. My director and I also served in KL with a street ministry. And Ramadan was going on while we were there. I found hearing the call to prayer so different. I loved how by sundown the whole city came alive with celebration.

For Holy Triduum, my director and I celebrated in Melaka. In Melaka I felt amazed to walk the hallowed grounds of a 152I church named for my confirmation St. Paul, where our patron St. Francis Xavier once frequented in life. I bartered for a lovely short-sleeve dark blue Chinese-style shirt and bought postcards to write as thank-yous, too. During Eastertide we traveled to Johor Bahru, through the Woodlands and into Singapore. 

Singapore

In Singapore, my director and I stayed with a Franciscan parish, St. Mary of the Angels. We frequented a Jesuit parish St. Ignatius on Sundays to present to and sing with their youthful De Vita Christi music ministry. I supported a diocesan parish group on the east side certain days too.

I spent time also with a Carmelite parish that celebrated the Tridentine Mass. So that May I’d gotten to celebrate the Latin Mass for my second time, since Modesto, Calif.! (Coincidentally, 'twas May 8 in the U.S., the fifth anniversary of Mother's passing.)

On my first week's day of rest, I checked out the Bird Park recommended to me by my Kansan uncle. Other days off saw me by the Bay as functions reopened for the first time since pandemic closures. I loved the musical-themed Garden Rhapsody, the peculiar Merlion and other opportunities for witness. I felt surprised to learn the Marina Bay Sands was owned by the same Sands as that in Vegas! Singaporeans knew 'Vegas' when I said that's where I'm from.

I’ve plenty more to share about mission, but I’m still processing. I published five stories overseas, though: 

From Vegas to Asia - Daniel Lang on a mission for God (April 22, 2O22)

Chinese ancestry, Mum’s death and first journey to Asia (April 3O, 2O22)

God’s authorship, spanning generations and places (May 7, 2O22) 

Companions in Mary, St Paul and Matteo Ricci (May 2O, 2O22)

To Thank and Encourage People We Served (June 2, 2O22)

Leaving Singapore 

Toward the end of mission, my director said a campus outreach minister role at Purdue University in my childhood state of Indiana may be possible for me with a Dominican. I took this to prayer on my first silent retreat during my final mission weekend. The retreat curiously took place at the same retreat centre where I first went for a recollection on my first Singapore weekend.

By late May, on my last day in Singapore, my friends Murshed and Sarah (who wed December 2OI9) arrived from Bangladesh. We saw the Spectra light show on the Bay then took what I think was a Grab (Uber/Lyft equivalent) to the airport. Then began Day 1 the pilgrimage, travel to Munich, Germany, where we would meet up with Fr. Nathan, parishioners from Reno and others. 

Day 2, having landed amid the sandy skies of Doha, Qatar, I boarded for Germany. Turns out my luggage got lost somewhere between Qatar and Germany, though. I found this out after at last getting through immigration in Germany. So, those first nights I had just my backpack. I thrifted a sleek white button-up, at least!  

Up Next: Germany and Austria

Here are enough stories for now. Thursday morning, Aug. 18 (today, in fact), I made the executive decision to separate the back half of this blog from the front. I’d already finished 2OOO words last night and figured more would come. Indeed, I put in another 2OOO this afternoon at the Aliante Public Library in North Las Vegas. So I came home to flesh out the rest, which you've read here. Now you have the more to anticipate when September starts!

I look forward to bringing back the blog when I'm in Mongolia again.

With six months since my last blog story took place, I’ve chosen a different approach with this one. Rather than describe to you my more in-depth look at the days, I’d decided amid a warm shower on a cold morning that instead I’ll lay out for you about what I would write if I’ve more time. These thus feel to me like episode synopses for a Netflix series, but hopefully you'll see this season has an arc.

God willing, I’ll update this post to link to the full stories, should I write ‘em. In the meantime, though, I hope this gives you a sense of what’s happened and what may come! If any of these particularly appeal to you, perhaps let me know, and I may prioritize it for you. Otherwise, I’ll surely write as time allows. Perhaps one day they’ll be ready to share! A great and glorious life this has been. God bless!

Indefinitely Forthcoming Tales from COVID-19 Year 2 June 2021 to December 2021

Summer Wedding and Reunions | #56 | June 2021

Bay Area, Boys' State and Seattle | #57 | July 2021

24th Birthday and U.S.-China Catholics | #58 | August 2021

Wedding, Work and Peace Corps’ 60th | #59 | September 2021

Portland Sociology then Choral Singing | #60 | October 2021

Thanks, Praise and Purpose | #61 | November 2021

Spirit of the Season and Third Wedding | #62 | December 2021

Summer Wedding and Reunions | #56 | June 2021

At May’s end, I reunited with my FarmHouse fraternity brothers for the wedding of our fellow brother, Zach, who, with his spouse-to-be, Kestra, was my coworker at the Nevada Residence Hall Association. This would be the first wedding I’d attend in a year and a half.

I felt so glad to see such close people wedding! I carpooled from Reno to Nevada City, Calif. with our fellow fraternity brother Marco, on whose podcast I’d appeared the summer before. I stayed with him, his girlfriend and our fellow fraternity brother during the wedding weekend. Zach truly brought back together our fraternity.

During the wedding, I also met again high school friends Brett and Jaena, who were to get married this fall. They could use this wedding experience to prepare for theirs, too. In the decade I'd known them, they'd been dating. I enjoyed their company, as we caught up on life since college and their work. I felt enthused by their aspiration to make possible Jaena’s pursuit of baking. After the wedding, I wound up carpooling with them to Vegas!

After the wedding, I headed that June to the San Francisco Bay Area with my national park friends to see Yosemite. While in Berkeley, I reconnected with a childhood friend Joe whom I’d contacted earlier in the pandemic, whom I now recalled said I could visit if ever in the Bay Area. My friends and I stayed at his place. At Golden Gate Park, I chatted about my search for work, and he mentioned his place might be hiring. While in the Bay Area, I also reunited with friends Gabe, a fellow Critical Language Scholarship alumnus whom I’d met during my Peace Corps service at the English teaching conference, and Blane, with whom I’d practiced Mandarin Chinese weekly throughout the pandemic.

Bay Area, Boys' State and Seattle | #57 | July 2021

Before we’d left Yosemite and to return to Reno, my virtual service as a counselor on the California and Nevada hybrid American Legion Boys’ State civic leadership conference began. I served as the co-counselor of a near 30-person news team and co-counselor for a near 40-person city. I enjoyed imparting to young students professional practices of journalism.

By Boys' State's end, I felt honored to see my news delegates Ryan Jung and Tim Jing both get selected to attend Boys' Nation. (Ryan was even elected president!) I felt especially honored to see the editor achieve what I hadn’t, in getting elected Speaker of his Assembly. My experience as a counselor also reminded me of my late counselor Ryan Lipparelli, who'd encouraged me in the Assembly.

After Boys’ State, I headed to Seattle to visit Olympic National Park with friends. I stayed with my sister Becky, who’d moved to Bellevue after completing her USC degree in fall 2020 but walked in the spring. I also reunited with Sarah and Murshed, whose wedding was among the reasons I returned to the States from the Peace Corps December 2OI9. Theirs was the last wedding I’d attended prior to Zach’s and Kestra’s in May 2O2I.

While at Olympic, we also saw Forks, relevant to the Twilight franchise. Sarah and Murshed took me too to see the state’s capital, Olympia. The couple suggested I return to Washington at August’s end to see with them Mt. Rainer and North Cascades national parks.

I spent extra time in Seattle to enjoy so many coffee shops, see the Underground Tour, the Columbia Tower look-out, the public library, a cat-filled used-book shop, Bruce Lee's grave, the scenic Kerry Park's view not far from the Space Needle, a sculpture garden, the Museum of Popular Culture and its Disney costume archive, plus the falls. Seattle was great.

24th Birthday and U.S.-China Catholics | #58 | August 2021

I’d extended my Washington trip past Independence Day to also encompass my 24th birthday, July 6. I celebrated it with my Disney-loving college journalism friend Emily and high school leader friend Bea. I also celebrated with Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Andrew at Snoqualmie Falls on our way back from Renton. In Renton, we'd met the parents of a Mongol American Eric, whom I met serendipitously while in Mongolia's capital on my way back to the States for Sarah’s and Murshed’s wedding.

As for the PCV, I’d previously met Andrew when coming to Mongolia’s capital for the September 2019 English conference and learned from him again at the Peace Corps In-Service Training and Project Design and Management conferences that proceeded my return to the States for that wedding.

After returning from Washington, and feeling pretty great about having been vaccinated, I gathered friends in both northern and southern Nevada to assemble for what would be my first stateside belated birthday gatherings since fall 2018, when I'd returned from China before my college senior year. One of these would also mark my first Reno gatherings. I reunited with friends from undergrad, high school and even middle school. Among those who came were fraternity brothers with whom I’d reunited at Zach’s and Kestra’s May wedding. Unfortunately, emergence of the COVID-19 Delta variant somewhat dampened what would otherwise have been more joy.

At July's end, California Boys' State Counselor Dale came to stay at Caesar's Palace in Vegas, so I drove Dad's truck to meet him. Since I wasn't sure how to turn the truck's lights on, I slept in it on the parking lot's roof till about sunrise. When my friend Brett came over later that week for my belated 24th birthday, he taught me how to pull the switch to shine the lights.

At August’s start, I attended my first in-person conference years, being with the U.S.-China Catholic Association. The day after the conference, we saw Monterey. We ate well. My pastor had sponsored me, so I enjoyed the Amtrak back to Reno, considering how I would share the story. I got to blog about it! At the in-person fall semester’s start for undergrads at my alma mater, I volunteered as an alumnus and the Community Advisory Board vice-chair, encouraging students to study abroad.

My activities bolstered my morale and have continued to make me a very grateful American. I also got an interview with Joe's CEO. By the month's end, I had also decided to accept an offer of employment from Joe to work remotely for his company. I hoped very much that I wouldn't have to work the weekend of Brett's and Jaena's wedding.

Wedding, Work and Peace Corps’ 60th | #59 | September 2021

Back in Vegas, I was rehearsing to perform in the Vegas diocesan conference. After pulling up to the large Vegas parish for one rehearsal one night, I'd gotten a stunning call from Brett asking if I wanted to attend a wedding that Saturday. I could have cried. I was leaving Vegas that Sunday for work but would indeed be free and in town for his and Jaena's wedding. To carpool across town to the wedding, I also reunited with my dear high school friend Halley, going with her.

The day after the wedding, I flew to Austin, Tex. on my first business trip. I met in person the marvelous team with whom I’ve been working remotely. Till I next head abroad, I’d work as a business analyst at Modern Intelligence, Inc., which creates A.I. for the U.S. Defense Department. Business meetings felt like Stark Industries briefings. I enjoy being a hero. Since my duties include research, analysis and reporting, I fit our team well!

In Austin, I also met for the first time in person a fellow Peace Corps evacuee Malin, with whom I’d been in touch since the year before. I met a study abroad advisor named Maria, with whom another Returned Peace Corps Volunteer had put me in touch. Additionally, I met with my Aunt Donna, who shared her experiences in government contracting and growing up with my dad. This trip was my first time back since the fall 2018 Public Relations Student Society of America National Conference where I received national scholarship awards.

Mid-September, I sang tenor for my first Vegas diocesan conference. One of my fellow singers called me an angel, which made me feel touched. During a catechetical session, I reunited with a high school friend Paola, to my great awe. I met Alejandro of the St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Newman Center of UNLV. He invited me to come by an evening activity when I was next in town on a Wednesday night at 7 p.m.

I spoke at the virtual conference for Peace Corps’ 60 anniversary. That week, Congresswoman Susie Lee featured me on her social media accounts! Seems that my eagerness to return overseas is infectious, for both my local newspaper and an online magazine also picked up my Peace Corps stories. I also spoke with the office of Congresswoman Linda Sánchez on obstacles to voting while serving in the Peace Corps!

Portland, Choir, Chinese and Vegas | #60 | October 2021

At September’s end, I bought a friend’s old car, an ‘05 Toyota Camry. The car has enabled me to bring many a student to experience many wonderful sides of Reno life. That weekend, I also took part this year in the memorial walk of Boys' State Counselor Ryan Lipparelli at Lake Tahoe. During a reception after the walk, I felt honored to be asked on the spot during a toast to say a few words. Afterward, people even more people commended me. I also wrote a blog reflection.

Later that week, I introduced one of my family foundation's scholarship recipients to one of my mentors, who encouraged her to still audition for challenging roles. The next weekend, I auditioned for and was accepted to sing with the Reno Philharmonic Chorus as a first tenor. The week after, I emceed for a talk by Dr. Abernethy for the American Psychological Association's Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. The week's end, I traveled to Big Sur and Pinnacles with friends.

I headed to Portland, Ore. on grant funding to present at the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion and Religious Research Association joint conference. I met in person my colleague Salman as well as scholars Whitehead and Perry, who received the book award.

My CLS Refresh program kicked off, restarting my studies of Mandarin Chinese language and culture. Ideally I’ll put these toward grad school and upcoming studies abroad. I became a student of the Dalian University of Technology.

I attended my first UNLV Newman Center event, which was to set up a haunted house (hotel). The next Wednesday I returned to help spook guests in the haunted hotel. I got make-up for the first time I could remember. Georgiana did an amazing job. Evangela was my partner in spooky times. On the morning of All Hallows' Eve, I reunited with Brett and Jaena, who had begun her baking business!

Thanks, Praise and Purpose | #61 | November 2021

Our parish had an ofrenda, as did UNLV Newman's. The Allhallowtide season also gave me deep feelings. For our Reno Newman ofrenda (Día de Muertos altar), I reached out to the friends for whom I've been praying. I enjoy spending time in front of our ofrenda. It reminds me of these saints who know each other in Heaven. Sometimes I feel them smiling their confidence at us. This moth, I also camped in el valle de la Muerte, hiked in Red Rock and climbed around Joshua Tree.

On a particular Thursday night when spending time with a new friend Kira, I decided to drive us to the Sparks Marina, a place I remembered from years ago, when I was a new student at the University. This was a beautiful place where a friend at the time from church brought me. My years after Mom died and I went abroad, I hadn't seen the old friend but fondly remembered our experience.

Well, the next Sunday evening, I was lectoring at church since I wouldn't be in Reno for long. During the Mass, I found myself noticing someone across the church. After Mass, she walked up to me. She was my old friend, Ella! Ella's schedule now has been as hectic as ever. But we went hiking together this month. I feel so in awe of how God brings people from my past into my new life. Life is of encounters.

As for what I hope to do this spring, from my latest interview, I learned I’d need to read the whole Catechism of the Catholic Church. I began listening to podcasts on it most every drive around the Vegas valley. Oh, the struggle is real.

At Thanksgiving, I got to attend the morning Mass at St. John Neumann Roman Catholic Church. It reminded me of the fall 2OI7 time I attended the morning mass at SJNC. Back then, the bishop presided over the Mass, and I was trying to get away from the house when my siblings felt mean to me the year of our mother’s death and my first return to Vegas from China. This year felt comparatively more peaceful, and I found myself more easily able to give. I loved singing so much!!

Chinese classes also got to explore my family tree. Turns out on my Hunanese Lin side I’ve over 800 years of ancestors passed down since 1195, through the Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing Dynasties as well as the Republic of and People’s Republic of China! I have been collaborating at length on WikiTree to get these records up.

Spirit of the Season and Third Wedding | #62 | December 2021

December would kick off with the Spirit of the Season concerts with the Reno Philharmonic Chorus. Later that month I and my friend Halley would celebrate the wedding of my third fraternity brother, a fellow Knight of Columbus and one who’d taught me to drive, Worthy Phillip. Hopefully emergence of the COVID-I9 Omicron variant wouldn’t dampen the joy.

Afterward, I’d return to Vegas for Christmas and also head to Kansas for my first Lang Christmas get-together since perhaps December 2014 when I was a senior in high school. I would hope to visit the Las Vegas Strip with high school friends either the Fourth Week of Advent or during the Christmas week before the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. I would especially like to see my friend since junior high Damaris perform with her band.

The year would end on a hopeful note, ideally with me knowing where abroad I might be this spring 2O22. In the meantime, I'd keep praying, studying the Catechism and remaining open to God's design. Regardless, I'd enter my final weeks of work at Modern and would look forward to seeing in Austin how the team will have grown.

Good Times

I sincerely hope I may one day flesh out these stories beyond what I’ve written here! For my sanity, this amalgamated blog story at least gives me peace knowing that I’ve conveyed my vision. I've discovered that I really, really love weddings. We bear witness to God's love.

This May was such a packed month that for the first time in a while, I decided to take two blog posts to contain its adventures. I’d even planned to have some of its tales spill into my June post, making this really more of a 'Part II of III.' This specifically would focus on the graduation season, mid-May. And while I’d hoped to have debuted these stories six months ago (November 2O2I now), I’m glad to have at least gotten these together! From the end of these tales you’ll know why I’d that wait, though.

Previously On...

As I’d written in my first May 2O2I tales, I’d randomly seen an article on Friday, April 3O, noting how people can visit dozens of real places from the film, “La La Land.” I felt surprised to think that people can swing by my favorite film’s iconic locales. I found the prospect enchanting.

The next Monday, May 3, I received a message from my sister Becky requesting whether I or our siblings would come to Los Angeles for her graduation, May 15. I missed out on her high school graduation since I was abroad in China, so this time I offered to fly in.

A friend with whom I’d recently reconnected mentioned living in L.A., I remembered. Later, after an unrelated video call with her that Monday, I said I’d be in her city. I asked for recommendations. She suggested Hollywood.

Suddenly, her suggestion reminded me of that “LA LA LAND” article! I felt enthused. I could see not only my sister and my friend but also real locales used to film scenes from my favorite film. Somehow I hadn’t noticed before that the title’s name contains “L.A.” three times.

Reno Graduations

That Thursday before the trip, May 13, the family of my sister Vana’s boyfriend Ben came to visit us in Reno. The parents and oldest brother remembered me from my Class of 2OI9 graduation activities, for the middle son Nikko was one of my parish friends. I felt touched that they remembered. I suppose in hindsight that perhaps being memorable wasn’t so hard since only four or five of us graduated from the church that spring.

The next morning, Friday, May 14, I came to our campus parish to celebrate first the live-stream graduation of Ben. When Ben and I were in school together, he was my Knights of Columbus mentee and successor as both Chancellor then Deputy Grand Knight. He officially started dating my sister Vana after I graduated. So, our families have grown closer. His family ordered a hearty brunch from Taiwanese 1OI, where my family had gone last year after Vana’s confirmation.

Later that Friday, we celebrated the Baccalaureate Mass of student coordinators and friends from my undergrad. We celebrated Abui, Cristian, Jesús and Ben! The next morning, Saturday, May 15, my youngest siblings and I arrived at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport to fly to L.A. for our sister’s graduation.

As we waited at our flight's gate, I procured on my phone the livestream of our Kansan cousin Caleb getting hooded at the completion of pharmacy school. I took screenshots and shared these with our aunt. To my delight, when I commented I’d be willing to pay extra to trade someone to finally have my own $2 bill, my youngest brother Tony cheerfully accepted my offer, and we made the trade. Then we boarded for L.A. I’d scheduled to stay an extra day to see friends and embark on my “La La Land” adventures.

Lang Family in L.A. Lands

My siblings and I disembarked our plane at the LAX and made our way outdoors to the pedestrian waiting areas where we could stand. We waited there for Dad and Tita to drive to pick us up, as they had been driving from Reno to L.A. and were just arriving. I remembered trips abroad when I’d traveled alone. This time, I traveled with my youngest couple siblings. While we waited, I used my phone app to spin the daily PokéStops in our new city. Vana helped a Korean couple who approached her book an Uber.

After Papa and Tita picked us up, and we sat an awful' long time in traffic. If I hadn’t already, I finished my daily Duolingo lesson, read my daily Bible chapter and probably checked my emails and messages. I wish that I wouldn’t check my email so much, though. I try to work less when I travel.

We reached my sister Becky's school and began wandering. My folks and I found our sister in a public space she called the Rose Garden. She was taking photos with her fellow graduates from the University of Southern California (USC). Apparently white was a popular dress color for female graduates. I wasn’t aware till Sister pointed it out. We took family photos. Then my siblings and I bid our sister, Papa and Tita adieu, for Sister had only two guest tickets.

USC Side Stories

Our youngest brother Tony wanted boba tea, so we walked from campus while I live-streamed on my phone the graduation speeches. From Pot of Cha, we got our bobas then returned to campus. I showed my siblings the pretty exterior of the water and brick Leavey Library. I recalled spring 2OI8 when I had visited here with my sister Becky in our undergrads. I spent some time in this library working on projects. A USC student recognized me from my service to him as a Nevada Boys’ State counselor during his delegate year.

Our sister Vana wanted to use a restroom, so she visited a nearby Starbucks. There instead she received a map marking public restrooms on campus. So, we began navigating the campus in search of an open restroom. I enjoyed seeing between the buildings epic trees along the way. The Music Complex ultimately delivered us.

Business addressed, I decided to take my siblings to see the towering Annenberg Communication building that I found cool. Unfortunately one couldn’t see its absurdly large screens from outside, but I enjoyed at least finding it again. It was in there that I’d gotten to read online more about the Chinese university where I’d study through the U.S. Department of State that summer in Xi’an.

My siblings and I heard cheers nearby and saw track and field events happening behind a gate. We congregated by the fence for a time watching. I felt the campus odd to have field events concurrent to a commencement. Still, the metaphorical gladiators seemed to fare well.

After peeking through those fences a while, my siblings and I returned to one of the grassy areas with epic twisting trees. We were apparently right across from the USC Bookstore. So many squirrels squirmed about. I kept my phone livestreaming graduation festivities. We checked Messenger to see time updates from our sister Becky. We saw her friends Colin, Sofia, Alyssa and Danielle heading up and saw her too. I snagged many a screenshot on my phone to send our group chat. In just three years, Sister had her bachelor’s, summa cum laude like me!

Evening Oddities

After Sister graduated, Brother and I ran to the house where she was staying, while the folks drove. When Brother and I last visited Sister in L.A. last year to drop her off, she’d been living in an apartment. So, this house was different. We placed our things where we would be, then the fam went forth into the night. Youngest Brother led us through the Chinatown area of seemingly fewer palm trees.

We first tried visiting a karaoke bar yet found it bizarre. The back stairwell felt a bit like a Six Flags’ ride’s metal alley, except we saw no lines here. We didn’t raise our expectations high. When we entered, we didn’t find a receptionist ready. We did, however, see suddenly a woman in a tight dress appear and say that she’d come just to drop off a large cake. She then left. Then from an elevator outside by the stairs came a man pushing an empty shopping cart into some section of this karaoke place. A large van was somewhere below.

The desk clerk at last mentioned something about Fridays and higher prices. Well, we left. After leaving, we realized the day was Saturday. Still, we assumed that perhaps the two days had the same rates. We’d committed anyway to doing karaoke when our L.A. sister would visit Reno the week after. So, we cut our losses.

We walked to what my brother had looked up might be another boba place. Well, the one that he’d found on Yelp had either closed or relocated. We found another, I Love Boba, instead. My sister and I split a shaved ice that had many sweet things in it. I liked how the cashier showed us how to poke the ice to mix the ingredients. She seemed adorable in her delight to show us how to properly enjoy the treat.

On our walk, Sister Becky told me about “The Handmaid’s Tale,” a show, which according to L.A. billboards was having a new show soon. Our family ate outdoors at an Oaxacan restaurant called the Guelaguetza. Its seating reminded me of Austin, Tex. 2OI8. I hadn’t heard of Oaxaca, but I learned that it was in México. Coincidentally, I’d talk to someone not long after during a virtual meeting with The Overseas Dispatch who mentioned going to Oaxaca.

That night, my siblings, papa and tita departed for their own place to stay before brief national park trips on the road back to Reno. I readied for bed at my sister's place. Sister's friend Colin visited, too! I felt delighted to see him again in the flesh. He’d visited us in Vegas back in January and had been fun to chat with. I rested well for the coming adventures.

“La La Land” Adventures

I’m a huge “La La Land” fan. I’d organized my remaining L.A. days around how to see at least six to eight sights. I saw nine. Ultimately, these were Chinatown, the “You Are a Star” mural, Fern Dell Nature Trail, the Observatory exterior, Colorado Street Bridge, the mural under the overpass, the 1O5-IIO interchange, the Lighthouse Cafe exterior and the Hermosa Beach Pier.

The morning after Becky’s graduation was Ascension Sunday. Since my sister and I wouldn’t leave her place too early, I decided that a shorter trip would be a helpful start. So I browsed potential sites on my phone and noticed that L.A. has a Chinatown. Being Chinese-American, I enjoy visiting cities’ Chinatowns. I also recalled that “La La Land” has a track called “Chinatown.” So, L.A. Chinatown would have to have been a setting. I added it to my list.

Arguably Chinatown wasn’t that essential to the “La La Land” plot other than looking nice. While we wandered it, Sister explained how in U.S. history Chinatowns had adopted their amalgamated architecture to make themselves tourist destinations against governments’ criticisms. I felt a bit dismayed but understood. These alleyways more closely resembled Disneyland caricatures than genuinely authentic looks.

I loved how right when we arrived I saw a mural commemorating “Rush Hour,” a franchise I’d seen when I was little. Beneath the ol’ faded lanterns and along the paths, I had a joyful time. Toward the center, I saw the backside of a statue of a person sitting. I assumed it might be 孙中山 Sūn Zhōngshān, the Republic of China’s first president. I was right!

Beside us from the statue was a bakery, Wonder Bakery. I missed Chinese bakeries. I said to my sister that if they had any meat-filled 包子 /bāozi/ I’d probably buy one.

As it happens, the shop didn’t have meat-filled bāo. The cashier said how earlier that day, someone had just come in and bought the dozen. I asked how long it might take for them to make more, and the woman replied that it could be an hour. I mentioned that we’d be taking off before then.

To my surprise, the woman gave us free egg tarts! I decided to get a pineapple bun that I was eying. Its puffy look reminded me of similar ones that I’d buy in my Mongolian city. I offered some of this bun to Sister, but she didn’t care for some. She had her egg tart, though! Sister and I then hiked to a nice look-out near the Hollywood sign. On our drive from there to where I’d meet with an ol’ friend, I felt pleased to see on our right the massive “You Are a Star” mural.

On my adventures around the city, I also felt delighted to see Emily Stone on billboards for Disney’s “Cruella.” While I’m not so interested in the franchise, I found it amazing to know that Stone’s leading the high-profile film. I’d first seen her act in “The Amazing Spider-Man” but really felt inspired from both her performance in “La La Land” and her interviews about the film. Stone’s billboards reminded me of her character Mia Dolan’s aspiration to go big in Hollywood. Billboards of Dreamworks’ new 3D-animated “Spirit” film reminded me of my Peace Corps Mongolia sitemate Emilie, who’d loved the original. The billboards looked cute. Generally, massive billboards remind me of Chicago 2OI7 and my undergrad years studying ads.

From Griffith Park to Pasadena

My sister dropped me off in amazingly tall-treed Griffith Park, where I’d meet up with Margaret, a friend I hadn’t seen since spring 2OI8 when she’d graduated early. Margaret had been such a supporter throughout our undergrad, especially my freshman year when I underwent the Rites of Christian Initiation for Adults. In L.A., as we chatted about our travels in Asia, she took me up the beautiful Fern Dell Nature Trail to the Observatory exterior. She captured a photo of me hopping with unrestrained glee on a path before both the observatory and the Hollywood sign. It would become my Facebook banner cover to capture my delight of having gotten my second COVID-I9 vaccination that month.

Back at the car, when Margaret and I tried to leave, her Prius had trouble starting. Thankfully someone stopped to help us. Then I got to ride with my friend! I love Priuses. They’re cool cars, environmentally friendlier and super common in Mongolia! My friend then picked up her boyfriend Awaab, and together we visited the tranquil Forest Lawn Memorial Park cemetery nearby in search of famous folks like Walt Disney. I found the hilltop building’s interior enchanting, as were the views from in and beyond the park. I would surely spend more time there like my friends. Though we couldn’t find Disney’s grave, my friend took me to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where I found Disney's star instead. Then my friend drove me by the iconic Colorado Street Bridge to Pasadena, where I’d dine with one of my Returned Peace Corps Volunteer friends from the cohort above me. I hadn’t seen him, my Byzantine-loving friend Nick, since our spring 2O2O evacuation from Mongolia.

We ate at the Panda Inn, which Nick explained was an origin point for the Panda Express franchise. The food tasted great. My friend commended me for still wanting to return to Peace Corps Mongolia. He caught me up on the education roles he’s held since our evacuation the year before. I felt surprised to learn that one of our fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteers was in the Bay Area, where I hoped to visit the next month.

After dinner, Nick took me down some streets on which he spent many of his years living here. Unfortunately, we ran short on time to see the Rialto Theatre because of sunset, but he drove us across the Colorado Street Bridge. It reminded me of a smaller bridge in Reno that I’d walk near Idlewild Park, the winter when I’d see “La La Land.”

Nick delivered me to the hilltop of the Griffith Observatory, where I reunited that sunset with my sister. I loved having gotten to see that iconic, domed observatory in both the day and night. I felt delighted by how it acknowledged the films shot there. Sister and I proceeded around the park experiencing the “Ellen Reid SOUNDWALK.” The cosmic choir reimagined for me the lovely nature in darkness.

From Griffith Park, Sister took me back to the Walk of Fame so I could find by night Bruce Lee’s star and the Chinese Theatre. These satisfied me greatly. On our way out, Sister had trouble getting onto the freeway, so we wound up looping around such that I encountered a bonus “La La Land” sight, the mural under the overpass. This serendipity delighted me immensely. As we returned to the house, I admired the exterior of a building that looked like fire. Then we slept.

Last L.A. Morning

The next morning, my last day, Sister took me to the beach. Options included Manhattan Beach, my sister’s favorite, and the Santa Mónica Pier, apparently an iconic one. I specifically chose instead one that would ensure our route would pass through the 1O5-IIO interchange. This interchange was where filmmakers shot the iconic opening to “La La Land.”

I felt amazed next by how easily we found the Lighthouse Café exterior after parking. My last stop would be the Hermosa Beach Pier. I loved the moody wind and slate waves. The pier felt pleasant. L.A. in the distance, its other piers visible, seemed vast. I recalled Panamá City’s coast.

Sister wanted to grab a bite to eat before we left for the airport, so I decided to treat her to a burrito bowl and got a burrito for myself of the same flavor. While I felt like I probably could have done without, I also preferred not to feel hungry on my return flight. So, I accepted to get the bite. Contrary to our dad’s annoying claims, I enjoy treating people when I’m feeling it. So, I felt glad my sister accepted. She’d given me a rad time in L.A.!

I returned to Reno, satisfied with my trip. Though I didn’t spend time listening to the “La La Land” soundtrack while in L.A., as soon as I returned to Reno, I started listening to it again. I don’t see myself living in L.A., but my Peace Corps friend persuaded me that Pasadena and similar sites are nice. Time will tell where I wind up!

Fam Karaoke in Reno

That Wednesday would mark the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister, the day which would also mark my full inoculation from COVID-I9, May 19! That Saturday our L.A. sister would come to Reno. And during the spring semester, the Reno Newman Center the student coordinators had hosted a karaoke event. So, we’d decided to celebrate Vana’s belated birthday party with Becky and karaoke. Rounding out Easter 2O2I, Pentecost would follow the Sunday after, May 23.

Our family friend Chisato, who worked in the @One of the University’s Knowledge Center, checked out karaoke equipment for us, which we hooked up to the large telly Dad had mounted in the living room. We gathered on the couches that they had transported from Vegas at the turn of the New Year. This room felt much fuller than during last summer, when Dad just bought the place. Siblings began their songs.

I opened with “Waving Through a Window,” which I hadn’t sung before in full. Since Ben had told me that a trailer for a “Dear Evan Hansen” movie went live, I felt in the musical’s mood. I remembered too back in Glee Club spring 2OI7 when I’d first heard a close friend perform it on what I didn’t know would be the week before my mom was killed.

The sisters sang some Shania Twain and hoped to get Dad to join in. I think he did for some, which amazed me! The siblings, Ben and I sure enjoyed belting out “Hamilton” together. I recalled rapping “Hamilton” some days at Newman with Ben’s older brother Nikko. Here, my sisters were very carefree, our tita was supportive, and I felt relatively free from Dad’s judgment.

I even decided to try my hand at “Some Things Never Change,” the pleasant opening of “Frozen II” I’d first heard just over a year before and had looped listening to many times throughout 2O2O. I later sang a handful of “La La Land” numbers for my first time, including “Someone in the Crowd” and “Another Day of Sun.” “Audition (The Fools Who Dream)” was a classic for me, and my performance on its difficult notes received praise from the fam. I’d a fun time.

And Now This...

I felt glad to have gotten to be in the States long enough to attend these graduations. Since I’d gotten my second vaccine dose and had renewed my Peace Corps documents, I predicted, hope-filled, that reinstatement could be on fall’s horizon. Summer 2O2I felt like the start of a bright end to this pandemic.

Indeed, May 25, we received an email from the Peace Corps. I felt ready to find out my next steps and know the date when I leave. Yet this message set in motion another set of feelings, one that would become for me some three months of crisis.

We would not return to Peace Corps service in 2O2I.

And so my stateside stories continue. Tune in from November 2O2I to find out how I’d spent the past six months since then. If you’ve seen me in the past six months, you surely have some stories already! Regardless, I’m ready to share.

May was been great, hectic. Pentecost, the Judeo-Christian holiday some 5O days from Easter and Passover—this year from May 23, 2O2I—led to monumental shifts in what’s been up with me. So, while we’ve gone back into the Church’s Ordinal Time now, I’ll focus this time on that Easter chunk of May. Tales include my first adventures of licensed Vegas driving, followed by experiences on and before Mothers’ Day 2O2I.

Month of Feels

While in Reno on April’s second-to-last Friday (my last before Vegas), I discovered that Evan Call's original soundtrack to 《Violet Evergarden》 was on Spotify. This delighted me immensely because I’ve for years listened to people’s covers of the soundtrack. The originals hadn't been available.

Back during my last semester of interpersonal group therapy in spring 2OI8, a handful of peers had recommended I see 《Violet Evergarden》 for it helped them to better empathize with others. (I'd gone to counseling to better figure out how to communicate my Catholic feelings about grief.) I went back to China that summer for my second time. Then, during my first weekend after my college junior year classes had begun, I finally watched the Netflix series. That was nearly a year and a half since Mom died.

I loved how the show, through its characters, narrative, settings and score capture so many aspects of grief, displacement, inspiration and comfort. Now in 2O2I, I found that I could listen to its entire score. Tracks that particularly resonated this time with me were “Across the Violet Sky,” “Birth of a Legend” and “Another Sunny Day.” Music guides me to meditations. To my surprise, that last song's title resembles "Another Day of Sun”—another song I deeply enjoy. Mom had called me a ‘sunny’ boy.

To Vegas’ Roads

May 1, 2O2I had my first time driving to and beyond downtown Vegas. My family's house has been on the valley's north side.

My older brother and his girlfriend were the only others living at the house besides me. Since they had activities that Saturday, I'd for the first time drive the family’s ol’ Dodge Ram that accompanied us all the way from Indiana.

Dad had in his usual somewhat joking but actually serious way suggested that I could drive the pick-up around town. Dad had hardly used it, so over the years, strangers have placed offers to buy it. He wouldn’t sell. My using it would probably justify his keeping it, anyway.

While I see trucks more as gas-guzzlers, which don’t jive well with my environmentalist tendencies, I appreciated that Dad let me borrow it regardless. I don’t like driving vehicles that lend themselves to considerably negative environmental impacts. Still, a ride’s a ride.

That Saturday, I was to meet from the Southern Nevada National Peace Corps Association a fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) and his family at the Las Vegas Wash Green-Up. Despite having lived in Vegas 2OO8–I5 and again in 2O2O, I marveled at having never heard of the Wash. That said, it’s quite a ways south.

In bygone days, my late ma would have driven me to service events similar to the Green-Up if I couldn’t carpool with Kiwanis Key Club friends. Well, I hadn't read that other RPCVs would from the north. So, I hoped driving in this case would least harm the environment.

Sights and Sounds Known

From the house for my day’s trip, I first looked up a Google Maps itinerary that could get me to a shopping plaza in the north and then down to the valley's southeast side. So, on my Surface, I plotted my route, copied the web address, messaged it to myself, found by our house's door the truck’s keys, came outside, unlocked the weighty vehicle, lugged open the driver’s door, clambered in and on my phone booted up the route.

I’ve driven different vehicles over past months and years, training with friends and family. So, I began my familiar routine of buckling up, adjusting the mirrors, making my seat comfortable. When driving alone, I also tap my phone’s Spotify app and start my “Recent Wonders” playlist or another.

The playlist reminds me a bit of my MP3 player habits when I was younger. I used to have to manually pick tracks from my computer’s library to download to my portable player. Since undergrad, though, I’ve had this Spotify playlist I shuffle for about the same purpose. My rotating set usually has between 15O and 25O songs. I prefer under about 18O. 《Violet Evergarden》 tracks comprise a good chunk of the newest.

Maps and playlist ready, I powered on the mighty truck and lurched it forward. As the high vehicle entered the street, I imagined Dad saying something annoying like, it’s a great vehicle for picking up chicks. Sure, it’s certainly spacious, but I prefer modest rides. If my vehicle were to make a statement, I’d rather it concern the planet not status. Still, I work with what we have.

Familiarly, I drove the streets I’d trained on three months earlier to secure my driver’s license. While the truck was the largest thing I’d driven here, roads’ rules were the same. I brought the truck to 24 miles per hour except when stop signs appeared. I piloted from the neighborhood to the main road, where I brought our speed to 33. Then I began north toward the shopping center along streets I’d walked with in middle school.

Arriving, I located the Bed, Bath & Beyond parking lot. Two of my former Residence Hall Association coworkers, including one whose FarmHouse fraternity brother I had become, would wed this May. So, I’d ordered an item from their gift registry to pick up. Afer sitting in Vegas heat, a woman brought me the gift. Success!

Across the Vegas Valley

Gift in possession, I powered back on the truck to begin my first road trip across the Vegas valley. I’d decided against taking freeways, since I figured proverbially that I’d better know how to walk before I run. Besides, Ma hadn’t liked highways. She’d traveled Vegas fine. So, I opted for major side streets.

I regretted avoiding freeways. Perhaps a dozen signal lights in, I realized that much of the trip felt more “stop” than “go.” I sorely underestimated how few roads let me bring the speed up to 44 mph. 35 zones seemed far more the norm.

Yet, I found the southbound view of Boulder Highway breathtaking. I hadn’t foreseen this urban desert’s beauty. The long road showcased the valley flora's summer embrace. I recalled a similar ride 'round Reno with a close college friend before we’d graduated. While I still resolved today to try the freeway back, my journey felt worthwhile.

Environmentalism For Earth Day

As I steered left off the highway nearing the Vegas Wash, its immensity awed me. I slowed the truck as I neared the parking area. With luck, I backed the truck into a spacious place near trees.

I donned the white Panamá-looking hat from my Mongol host family, hopped out and walked to tents where volunteers looked ready to sign folks in. I picked up and put on branded swag like blue planting gloves, a black face mask and a clear clip-on hand sanitizer. I then followed a dirt trail along the Wash. I was wearing too my ol' hiking shoes Mom had bought me mid-way through my college freshman year. To my surprise, the still fit!

I emerged soon where folks were taking potted shrubberies to flag-marked holes. There my RPCV friend found me. This was our first in person meet-up, so I felt surprised how easily he recognized me. He introduced me to his Kyrgyz wife and one of their kids who’d come to serve too. My friend's daughter was sick at home, but this was his son. We chatted a bit about fermented mare's milk, a drink common to both Kyrgyz and Mongols!

I asked him about the service project. He shared how these projects happen here annually. The flowers and shrubs we'd plant would help filter the Wash. I remembered my Key Club and CKI days and felt amazed that our clubs hadn’t participated. Still, as an RPCV, I found that my love of service remained. I carried plants back and forth, burying them throughout the grid.

After we concluded planting, we returned to check-in. Jimmy John’s to-go boxes awaited us volunteers. I walked with my friend to his vehicle, and we wished each other well. I strolled back to the Wash.

A roadrunner stood on a short cement wall by the water. Then it hopped off and disappeared. So, I hopped up, sat down and removed my visor, face mask and gloves. I like nature. I enjoyed the Wash, my chips and a sandwich.

I felt both stronger and vulnerable. When I finished here, no one would come get me. I got to choose when and how I'd head home. So, mistakes were on me, too.

I didn’t like heat much. I finished my food, saved the cookie and walked back to the truck. Heading back before I tired would keep me safer for my hour-long journey home.

“What If I?”

As I drove back toward Boulder Highway, a new thought came: What if I turned left instead of right?

I could visit Mom's grave. She was buried in the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery half an hour south. Dad hadn’t replied whether we’d visit it the Saturday after, being the fourth anniversary of Mom’s passing. I felt a twinge to go now.

But my phone had already lost half its battery. I’d had it on the hour-long drive to reach here. I wanted to still have Maps to help me navigate, as I would soon take on my first valley-wide freeways.

When two desert roads diverged, I took the one I’d traveled by.

Then freeway traffic sucked. But I think I still made better time. There was the difference.

Vegas and Mothers' Day

The next day, which was the Sunday before Mothers’ Day 2O2I, I took back up the task of sorting Mom’s former belongings. My pa had wanted me to organize the room where he’d been letting me stay in the Vegas house, too. Part of organizing that room meant I’d need to move out my mother’s clothes that siblings and I saved. Last spring’s garage clean-up led me to know that we had both plenty of space and large containers. While I worked, I listened to 《Violet Evergarden》 tracks.

Sight and Touch

On one of my sister Becky's visits, she and I ventured into Mom's closet to box and bag Mom's clothes to send to our stepmother’s family in the Philippines or donate. Working with Tita later, I'd identified some to keep. I hung those in the closet of the Vegas room where I was staying.

We'd kept clothes that were either extremely familiar, like her lavender and mauve ones, or rather unique, like suits and Chinese attire. Many of these clothes, I hadn't known Mom had. Not until after her death had I seen these dresses and sweaters. I wondered when she’d last worn them, in what stages of life. She must have liked them enough to have kept them all these years.

In my room, I unhooked Mom’s clothes from the closet and laid them in a large grey plastic bin with a green lid. Its shape reminded me of a coffin, though this was smaller, more rectangular and less imposing. I tried pushing away the coffin thought.

I laid in Mom’s clothes by Marie Kondo’s method, according to thickness. Thus, “最后的，最厚的” /zuìhòu de, zuì hòu de/, the furthest back, the thickest. I placed Mom's Chinese traditional clothes closest to the surface. I supposed that if any of us sought her clothes, perhaps we’d want to see those first.

I was placing the last of Mom's clothes, white and green silk, when I stopped suddenly.

Patterning looked familiar. I turned back to the closet, to its right half where I kept my clothes. I found my Chinese-style shirt I'd purchased in 北京 Běijīng 2OI7. I took my black and red shirt and laid it beside Mom's Chinese clothing.

The patterns similarly repeated stitched dragons and fish on shimmering silk.

Perhaps these were common patterns. But the coincidence felt uncanny. In China after Mom died, I’d made my purchase for thinking the shirt I found looked cool. Now I wondered, had Mom influenced what drew me to choose mine? For had she been there in person, perhaps she'd have recommended the same.

I exhaled a shaky breath. The shirt I'd bought resembled ones I didn't know my mom wore and kept.

“Across the Violet Sky” was playing—an emotional sound.

Mom was with me perhaps.

Sandals, Years Later

On the Thursday that preceded my drive to Saturday’s service event, I needed to get shopping done.

Older Brother wasn’t busy, so he drove me to the North 5th plaza our family had frequented when we were in junior high and high school. Pops now wanted me to replace my plaid slippers, and I’d also noticed my black sandals getting slick on smooth floors. If I went back to Mongolia, I’d need better wear. Ross tended to be my first choice.

Entering with Brother, I recalled that spring 2OI7 trip when Mom took me to this very store before I left for China. Back then, luggage, shoes and sandals were along the right wall. Now they were along the left. We hadn’t needed to sanitize our hands back then, either. But it’s good practice.

A new thought struck me as I tried on sandals. I’d come to replace the very pair that Mom had bought me in this very store. They’d lasted me all these years, back and forth to China and Asia.

Earlier that week, on the Tuesday when I’d leave Reno, I felt amused. I was telling my pastor after we taped the Proclamation how I’d fly to Vegas that night. He mused how they’d need to find someone to fill my sandals.

I prefer sandals to shoes when the weather’s nice. “They’re comfy and easy to wear.” As an inside joke, because our Proclamation recordings don’t tend to show our feet or much below our waists, viewers don’t tend to see whether we’re totally dressed for Sunday Mass. When permissible, I even prefer walking barefoot!

Anyway, I realized on this seemingly mundane Ross trip to find slippers (which I ultimately ordered online) that I’d returned to the same place to replace sandals Mom got me for my first overseas trip.

Having had a long day, I spent some time that evening while finishing my April 2O2I blog story browsing the web. A particular article caught my eye noting how people can visit dozens of real places from the film, “La La Land.” I felt surprised to think that people can actually swing by the film’s iconic locales. I loved that movie.

Coincidences

The day after sorting Mom’s clothes, Monday, my sister Becky messaged me if I or our siblings would come to L.A. for her graduation. It’d be the next Saturday, May 15. I didn’t conflict with any other graduation events that I’d sought to attend. So, I offered to fly in to visit.

Writing of L.A., I also remembered a friend to whom I’d been talking had said she was living there. The evening of after I stowed Mom's clothes, we’d reconnected for the first time in months. In fact, we'd be chatting over video later that night. I let my friend know that I’d be in the city and asked if she recommended places to see.

My friend suggested Hollywood.

Then I remembered—that “LA LA LAND” ARTICLE!

I also realized in that moment that the film's title contains “L.A.” three times. I doubt that that was a coincidence.

Anyway, I felt super stoked for the trip. Not only could I see my sister and my friend—I could see where filmmakers taped my all-time favorite film.

Final Vaccination

Knowing I'd be off to L.A. made receiving my second Pfizer dose against COVID-I9 more exciting. Two days after making arrangements with my sister came Wednesday, Cinco de Mayo. I’d scheduled from Reno to get my last dose in Vegas.

Brother was busy, so I drove again the pick-up. My appointment at one of the College of Southern Nevada campuses. While my pastor had taken me to my Reno appointment, I was on my own today.

Campus didn’t have many signs to indicate where to go. I asked a woman behind a desk, and she told me which way to head outside to find the site. Sprinting to make up lost time, I arrived and showed my verification. All went smoothly, though the National Guard vaccinating me asked where I’d gotten my vaccination card. Turns out that Washoe and Clark had different-looking ones.

I proceeded to a waiting area after. The Guard didn’t say to wait before I left, but I remembered Reno. I took a selfie and posted it to my Story: “Let’s get vaccinated!”

I heard a pop song and thought it sounded nice. I looked it up and felt surprised to learn it was Justin Bieber’s “Holy.” I used to despise the guy’s songs. But, this one made up for it. I like to let go of negativity.

Fourth Anniversary

That Saturday, May 8, 202I came the fourth anniversary of my mother’s passing. Dad had come back to town and indeed agreed with my hope for us to visit Mom’s grave. The trip would also be our first May visit with my stepmom, who borrowed my ol' Key Club fire visor. She’d joined our trip last August as well, for Mom’s birthday, I think.

Getting into Boulder City, we visited first the 99¢ Only Store—Dad’s tradition here.

Dad dropped off Tita and me at the entrance while he went to park. Tita asked whether to get fake flowers again or real ones, so I suggested real. I feel like fake flowers at gravesites seem weird.

Afterward, Tita requested that I pick out graduation cards for my sister Becky, our other sister’s boyfriend and my older brother’s girlfriend. It was at that time I realized that many folks I knew had graduation ceremonies this spring.

Cemetery

Once we got what we needed and Dad did his browsing across the store, we at last made our way to the cemetery. I found first the gravestone of our family friend, Tom Wood. His was on the edge of a row, making his easy to spot. Grasses had started to cover many of the words.

Ants crowded around his stone, so I didn’t stay long. I’d been trying my new sandals and wanted to avoid getting bitten. My recent binging of Kurzgesagt videos led me to know that ants can be intense. Still, beside Papa and Tita, I said my prayers in thanks to God and our friend who’d helped introduce my siblings and me to making the most of our educations in Vegas.

Then I walked over to Mom’s grave. Hers was nearby, across the road. Dad’s friend and my mom both perished on the same day, May 8, 2OI7.

Mom’s grave isn’t hard to find walking from between a tree and a bench by a trash can then down a few rows. From the ground, I popped out a metal cylinder and filled it at nearby faucet. Tita and I would then set into it some of the purple and white flowers she’d purchased for both graves.

In times like these, I tend to want to talk, but Dad looked quieter than usual. So, I let him have his peace. I wish he’d open up more. I guess that from his patriarchal generation or military service, fathers didn’t believe that sons needed to know their feelings.

Meanwhile, maybe the summer-like lush trees here contrasted Reno’s spring. Or perhaps my thoughts of “La La Land” reminded me of what was on my mind when we first visited this Boulder graveyard. Regardless, I felt transported back to 2OI7.

After personal little prayers, I and Dad recounted to Tita how the area looked back then—how we’d buried Mom in a dirt space at what was the section's edge. But now there are more grasses and grave markers for rows from 2OI8, 2OI9, 2O2O and 2O2I.

We noticed a youngish adult woman who seemed a bit frazzled. She held numerous colorful objects including large flowers, searching for something. Tita and I asked her, and she said she was looking for her parents, who’d passed away in 2OI7 and 2OI9. Tita, Dad and I helped her look. We scanned the ground beyond my mother. We found the parents. I felt glad.

Mothers’ Day

The next morning was Mothers’ Day. Since the holiday falls on May's second Sunday, Mothers' Day most always follows Mom's death day.

This year would be my first time celebrating Mothers' Day with my stepmom. We and her daughters convened at a Lucille's Smokehouse Bar-B-Que, which served meals in large portions. It was Tita’s baby grandson’s first time in crowded public, too! I enjoyed watching the way that baby Luke stared with wide eyes at us. White noise didn't faze him.

That day I’d I wrapped the Bed, Bath & Beyond gift that I’d bought for my friends to wed later in May. Pops, Tita and I readied anything else we’d need for the road trip back to Reno. Then began our journey again.

Into Graduations and May’s End

Friday, May 14 would celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from my undergrad. The next morning, Saturday, May 15, I’d fly with my youngest siblings to L.A. for our sister Becky’s graduation. Then I’d stay behind an extra day for my friend and “La La Land” adventures.

That Wednesday would mark the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister, Vana, as well as the day when I’d be fully inoculated, May 19! That Saturday my L.A. sister would then drive through Reno, where we’d sing karaoke.

Pentecost would follow on the Sunday after, May 23. Then would be May 3O and the trip with fraternity brothers to California for the long-awaited wedding of my undergrad coworkers—one of whom was also our fraternity brother. Weddings of peers feel so special.

I’ll probably have a second blog story themed around May 2O2I, given its abundance of activities. This summer I’m delighted mid-June to visit the Bay Area and a childhood friend I haven’t seen in a decade. Then at June’s end, after supporting virtual Boys’ State, I'll journey to Seattle to see Becky before my 24th birthday.

I still hope to return abroad this fall, but January 2O22 seems more likely now. Regardless, I’m doing my best to be ready when my time comes. I’ve enjoyed my year back in America. I hope that wherever I go next, I’ll remember with gratitude this life.

I write from Vegas, having returned after spending most of this spring in Reno. Life has been well. I feel adjusted to being back in the States a year. Every so often, objects and settings still remind me of last year’s evacuation from Mongolia. I still have the interest I’d had in trying to improve the lives of those around me. I still plan to return to Mongolia as soon as pandemic conditions permit.

This month’s blog story reminds me of cycles. Attending a virtual Open Mic Night at the conclusion to this month's “Culture of Creativity Workshops” featuring overseas alumni, I felt called to tell our folks there about this very blog story that I hadn't yet finished. A fellow participant suggested my theme of cycles. I'd spoken of how events that happen throughout time, how our feelings come and go. So here it is—My Easter 2O2I tales of cycles, light and renewal!

Back to Vegas

I returned to Vegas tasked by my father to continue to sort my belongings, tend to the yard and help my older brother and his girlfriend clean the kitchen since their recent move back to the house. Early in March, I’d visited the house with my siblings, and I’d intended originally to spend Holy Week here, too. But my college parish had many functions, including a friend’s baptism, Knights’ service events and opportunities for me to continue to help with the recordings of Sunday Proclamations of the Word. Palm Sunday’s and Good Friday’s were special highlights. Anyway, I'd opted to stay in Reno for Lent’s remainder into Easter’s first weeks.

Easter in Reno

Being in Reno for most of this April instead of in Vegas like last year, I enjoyed seeing trees blossom. A highlight of this Easter season has been its many serendipitous moments. This is also noteworthy because I'd listened to the "Tao of Pooh,” which noted spontaneity as among the good spiritual life’s fruits. A spiritual director had told me something similar not long before I'd graduated college.

Days before Easter Sunday itself (U.S. Year 2, Week 5; April 2–8, 2O2I), I enjoyed getting the opportunity to lector at that Mass. It was a small Mass, but I felt glad to be in person for the greatest celebration of the Christian year since all had shut down last year. Later this Easter Octave, I’d gotten to both lector and serve at a family's confirmation Mass. That too felt lovely.

Serendipity hadn’t stopped there! I’d caught up with an ol’ friend at Rancho San Rafael Park not far from the Uni and later biked with another friend at North Valleys Regional. My bike itself I’d bought from a rummage sale the day before on an unexpected adventure in a U-Haul truck to help our student coordinators collect furniture in the morning after they’d asked whoever could help. Thus, that Wednesday night they’d requested help, Thursday morning I’d joined them to Gardnerville and the rectory, and Friday night I was biking with a friend. The last time I recall riding in a U-Haul was over a dozen years ago when I was 11, my family moved from Indiana to Vegas.

My youngest sister has also been encouraging me to practice my licensed driving by borrowing her vehicle to and from our parish. I’d visited so often that staff offered me a key to simplify visits to my "home away from home away from home." I’d felt touched because I could go on walks around our pretty campus without worrying about getting locked out when I was alone. The flexibility gave me peace recently on my U.S. Year 2, Week 8 (April 23–29, 2O2I), when midday I’d needed to drop by my Honors College alma mater’s office to help print a letter I’d written to graduating seniors for our Honors Alumni Task Force.

Also at church, I’d gotten to participate in a few of our Alpha sessions hosted by a diaconate candidate whom I’d interviewed back in 2OI8 on my diocesan public relations internship. I'd heard about Alpha first back in Mongolia from a kind Evangelical Mongol. Anyway, the diaconate candidate, student coordinators and Alpha participants have been great conversation partners.

Beyond these, our pastor had driven me to my first Pfizer vaccine dose, lent me films and advised my reading! On one occasion, he even let me bring Holy Communion to a friend of mine. Such activities have kept me from feeling too distressed amid research writing and revisions. Parish support has made my “happy contentment” quest kinder.

Redwoods National and State Parks

This year’s Easter Octave concluded for me with another trip with my national parks friends (U.S. Year 2, Week 6; April 9–I5, 2O2I). This trip, I’d anticipated especially. As a young lad in Indiana, I’d felt mesmerized by the photos of massively tall California trees noted in our science textbooks. Thus, from an early age, Redwoods imprinted themselves in me.

At these national and state parks, epic scenery of old-growth forests, mountainous hills and valleys beside the coast astounded me. I hadn’t seen the Pacific Ocean since January 2O2O when I’d flown back to Mongolia from Vegas via San Francisco. I felt surprised by how many months had passed since my last overseas adventure.

At the loop completing the Tall Trees Grove trail, I found a special place. My peers had gone ahead while I stayed behind to take photos, record videos and capture audio. I hadn’t expected to find at the trail’s end a creek filled with still other trees—vast ones, like those that I’d seen in subtropical Asia but different.

I basked in these trees. While taking photos, I also discovered my phone has a virtual reality setting. I tried it out, remembering undergrad extra credit VR photography projects. I’d wanted to journal at least something.

“Daniel!” my peers called from some distance down the path. I couldn’t see them, but their voices echoed well enough. I called back something to the effect of, “I’m here!” I still wanted to get a good fill of this park. Here’s what I journaled:

[11:45 a.m.] Redwood, National Park, end of Tall Tree Grove along the creek zone is this phenomenal section of mossy trees with winding branches. Here I discovered my VR. [A woman paused, passing me, “You must be Daniel.”] 19IO–I96O, so many of these trees that used to be across Humboldt, Eureka, Arcata were cut down. The smells… the scents, the mosses, the ferns, the light. Beyond.

Mid-journaling, I paused because a mid-aged woman who was passing by smiled and acknowledged that I must be the "Daniel" she'd overheard about. I smiled yes and reveled in the gorgeousness that surrounded us. She affirmed and mused how this park’s name should be changed like, “Redwoods and Other Trees and Lose-Your-Brother-in-the-Forest National Park.” She added how in the early half of last century, these very types of trees once blanketed far more Northern California, across the very counties through which my friends and I traveled to get here.

I later journaled again after sprinting much of the uphill trail back to my friends. We then saw the “Lady Bird” Johnson trail, then a confluence of the Klamath River and Pacific Ocean (where there were seals!) and finally Trillium Falls. I’d written this about the final hike:

So hypnotic. [...] Dodona’s Grove* vibes from the Trillium hike after the Falls. Whispers from God. Endlessness.

*The Grove of Dodona is a prophetic forest from “The Hidden Oracle,” a book to which I’d listened amid the pandemic by an author I used to read in junior high and high school, Rick Riordan. While I wasn’t a huge fan of where he’d taken “The Heroes of Olympus” series’ finale, I'd often admired his picturesque locales.

My peers and I left the park by 6:45 p.m. The view from the road on which we departed reminded me of the bamboo forest in 安吉 Ānjí near 杭州 Hángzhōu. I’d seen it in 2OI7 during my first summer overseas and have rarely found comparable places.

Of Redwoods, I journaled too of how gleeful I’d felt to have hugged so many trees. A friend had complimented my writing when he mentioned that I don’t need to take so many photos. I added how photos help me remember what to write. I'll probably share my Redwoods photoset in May.

A carpet of moist, fallen leaves along the paved trails had reminded me of a Sunday morning path that my dad would take my siblings and me through for years at Spring Mill State Park in Mitchell, Ind.

Spring Retreat: Recognizing God’s Light

Beyond Redwoods, I'd stayed behind in Reno chiefly to participate in my college parish's Spring Retreat. This spring the student coordinators held it in Gardnerville, the same location where I'd enjoyed it my senior spring. However, I'd had to leave early from it that year. It was my first and only of the eight semesterly retreats from which I'd left early.

That year, I'd left in order to co-emcee the Diocesan Youth Rally 2OI9. To my surprise, the youngest member on this year’s student coordinator team was likely at that same event when she was a high school student. Similarities like these gladdened me.

I felt renewed. This year’s theme, "Light in the Darkness" (Spring 2O2I), reminded me of "Ignite the Light," (Spring 2OI8), the year after my mother died. This time, however, I’d had more years to reflect and feel greater peace. Similarly, I've felt more peace being back in the States even though I'd prefer to be abroad. God’s light shines every day, in every moment of every person. I can see it.

Writing of seeing things, I’d also seen "WandaVision" and "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" while up in Reno. I’d reconnected too with a Disney-loving college friend to get more Disney+ watchlist ideas. I’d seriously enjoyed the “Into the Unknown: Making Frozen II” docuseries. Both she and my college pastor led me to witness iconic performances by Julie Andrews in both "The Sound of Music" and "Mary Poppins."

Justice

April felt refreshing for a more challenging reason as well. Much of the month had featured on many channels coverage from the trial over the killing of George Floyd. I imagined that this would be a trial that my generation remembers for years.

I’d watched live various testimonies and even the closing arguments. Then, on that Tuesday, April 2O, 2O2I, afternoon, our nation heard the verdict—My pastor called it among the fastest traveling news.

I've been on the Social Justice Task Force of the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality since last summer. Our Task Force had come together in response to the killing of George Floyd and subsequent renewed pushes across our nation for social justice.

Our task force has been meeting every other Tuesday night, after weekly fed Zoom fatigue. Our meeting that Tuesday fell on the night of the guilty verdict. But, this justice felt cathartic only somewhat. More shootings filled the media. Our task was far from over.

Still, I’d another reason to celebrate. That Tuesday marked my last advocacy meeting on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association to offices of Nevada’s lawmakers this March–April. All told, I’d coordinated and met virtually with offices of the U.S. Congresspeople Horsford, Titus and Lee as well as Senator Rosen. And Representative Titus herself attended our meeting! She was very kind. So, I felt relieved to have finished those duties for now.

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Next month (May) begins Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I've decided to tell a #StopAsianHate story. Given America's centuries of racism toward Asians, I don't enjoy the subject. But, I’d had an experience on my Week 5I (Feb. 19–25, 2O2I). It reminded me the importance of continuing to tell stories so that we can promote diversity and inclusion.

I was on one of my Reno walks that cold winter. As usual, I'd pass by the local elementary school. I'd paused to check my phone. The time was while children were at recess. They played opposite a chain-link fence a few yards down a hill from where I stood.

At first, I didn't think that the kids were talking to me. So, I paid them little attention. Then their voices sounded closer, in greater numbers.

I hadn't decided whether to acknowledge the children but decided to finish my walk. My walk brought me along the fence. From my right periphery, I saw a clump of children gathering, following. They certainly addressed me.

I heard what sounded like slurs against Asians that I won't repeat here but also questions that I will repeat here.

The kids asked if I was homeless, whether I'm an orphan, whether I speak English. I reflected on these. I was wearing a big scarf from Mongolia, a hefty hand-me-down winter coat and wide, secondhand jeans, frayed at my ankles. But I hadn't spoken a word to the kids.

Their questions themselves weren't offensive. Yet, the children’s tones reminded me of the mocking ones I'd heard in middle school when boys made fun of me for caring more about good grades than getting girlfriends. (Little did the boys know, girls I liked tended toward good grades.)

Anyway, these kids seemed to have negative implications behind positive responses to their questions. This upset me. After all, homelessness, being an orphan and not knowing English are not inherently bad things. For, often, people do not choose to go without a home, parents or American English. So why might these children ask these degradingly?

I felt perturbed by the realization that these children would find pleasure in mocking people who they suspect are without homes, parents or English skills. Yet, from this, I felt a glimmer of solidarity. I'd heard directed toward me what seemed unkind speech. This may help me relate to Asians who hear slurs, to those without homes, to those without parents and to those perhaps struggling with English.

My parents tend to insist too that I buy new clothes, though. Given our world's rampant consumerism, I find second-hand ones quite fine. "Form follows function." I wish that more folks would appreciate hand-me-downs and thrifting.

Nuance

Curiously, as I continued past this chain-link fence, a somewhat pudgy boy of color asked with a wide grin for money for Taco Bell. Truthfully, I didn't have money on me. I calmly answered the questions, not pausing from my walk. I guessed the kids dismissed the homeless guess/joke. I noticed thankfully that they wore face masks. We’re still in a pandemic, after all.

The boy's questions made me wonder about his family life. True, he could have been joking. But I remembered, many of the boys who'd picked on me in middle school had been living in a neighborhood that many people called not a “good” part of town.

In light of the visibility that Black Lives Matter has had in the past year, I've tried to grow more aware of how cruel predominantly White societies can be toward Black, indigenous and other peoples of color. I recalled learning when I was little that, often those who bully had been bullied themselves. Sociology interests me.

Thus, when these playground children said potentially questionable things to me, I wasn't sure whether to intervene about the slurs or micro-aggressions or what I'd say.

As I neared the fence’s edge to complete my pass by the school, I overheard a girl's or maybe a woman's voice call the kids to stop wasting their free time. I'm glad that someone spoke up. Compassion is the answer, especially in light of hurtful things.

I’m still unsure whether my general silence was helpful or problematic. But the experience caused me to think. For, children learn fast. Innocence is invaluable. My generation's problems and those of that above ours replicate in youths the longer we fail to act.

I’m glad that folks are speaking up these days in hopes to #StopAsianHate. Social justice mustn't sleep.

Language Six

On April 2O2I’s last day, I hit my 365-day streak on Duolingo!

Over the past year, I’d focused on Latin, Spanish and Chinese. Having finished every lesson and level Duolingo had for Latin, I started dabbling in German. While I’ve no intention to extensively pursue German (yet, at least), I’ve enjoyed how its lessons help me see from where many non-Latin roots reach English.

I’ve been dipping into my Germanic heritage on Dad’s side again lately. This began about when I’d seen “The Sound of Music” then reconnected with my distant relative who’s researched more of our shared Austrian and Volga German forefathers and mothers. Turns out that my relative had personally written to and received a postcard from the real Maria von Trapp!

I've grown to like more German language. "The Sound of Music" and how Spotify has Disney soundtracks in German help. Besides listening to vocalists like Namika, I’ve also gotten into LEA, Manuel Straube, Julia Scheeser and even Willemijn Verkaik! This is probably just a phase, but it’s certainly fun.

Every language I’ve sought to learn has at least one Spotify playlist. For recent films I’ve seen, like "Mary Poppins" and "Mary Poppins Returns," I’ve cherry-picked tracks in German, Spanish and English. Though I don’t catch most words, I like to consider translators’ decision-making.

Summer Fun

I get my second Pfizer dose on Cinco de Mayo. By then, I hope to have channeled my Julie Andrews-inspired service of making things better than how I've found them. Later that vaccine week, on Mother’s Day, I’ll return to Reno with Tita and Papa.

May 14 will celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from undergrad. Then comes the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister and will also mark when I’m fully inoculated, May 19! Pentecost comes May 23. Then will be May 3O, the wedding of two of my undergrad coworkers, including a fraternity brother. We'll have a mini staff and fraternal reunion!

After that, I look forward most to a Seattle trip at my 24th birthday. National parks friends and I are flying up to see Olympic National Park. It’ll be my first time to see further into the Pacific Northwest than Ashland, Ore. My younger (not youngest) sister got a job in Seattle, so I’ll be surfing her couch for part of my visit. Super stoked to reconnect with friends from high school, college and Peace Corps in the city! Even my married friends with whom I'd spent New Year's Eve the past couple years plan to visit me there.

This April my siblings and I reviewed our first scholarship applications for a Foundation that we’d founded to honor our late mother, who was Chinese. So, with next month and the fourth anniversary of her passing, I’ll share Foundation experiences, I think. Along with those, graduations and celebrations await!

Happy Palm Sunday yesterday, and Happy Passover from the night before! Right under two weeks ago, March 16, 2O2I, marked the one-year anniversary to the close of my first Peace Corps Mongolia service. While I’ve continued to serve virtually, I’ve done so informally as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having lived these past 12 months back in the States, today’s tales chronicle that year. 

Also commemorating the one-year anniversary, I’ve uploaded dozens of photos from my first nine months serving Mongolia. You can find those on my Instagram and Facebook, from February and March. I begin today’s stories with those. From there, I chronicle my journey across the year. 

Evacuating Mongolia (February 2O2O)

February’s final week, on Ash Wednesday 2O2O, I was in Mongolia celebrating the third day of Tsagaan Sar, its Lunar New Year. Returning to my apartment from my last supper, I read an email from Peace Corps Mongolia that we were evacuating. I pulled an all-nighter packing my apartment. Shortly after sunrise, I visited a Peace Corps neighbor’s apartment to pack theirs. Then in my final two days, I said hasty goodbyes to community members, exchanging parting gifts. 

Sunday morning, which began Peace Corps Week and March 2O2O, I and fellow Volunteers loaded into Peace Corps vehicles and rode in our caravan till evening. Then the snowstorm caused us to need to stay overnight in a hotel coincidentally located in a city that my cohort would frequent during our summer 2OI9 for training. My evacuation group reached Mongolia’s capital Monday afternoon, with briefings from staff throughout Tuesday. Mongolia had already begun to enforce mask-wearing and physical-distancing, so we couldn’t do much with our final hours in Mongolia. Indeed, since mid-January, many public places had already closed due to quarantine. 

Wednesday night, the week after my peers and I had received notice of our evacuation and now mere hours before my group would depart the country, we awaited the arrival of fellow Peace Corps peers to the capital. For, Peace Corps staff staggered our arrivals into and departures from the capital to account for both the time drivers would need to assemble us from across the nation and the limited flight options still going out of the country. Those of us who remained awake through our final night enjoyed getting to see and embrace peers for our final moments together. 

Over the course of Thursday, March 5, my group flew first from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, through Moscow, Russia, to Berlin, Germany. Many of our itineraries diverged. From Germany, I and a few flew to Amsterdam, the Netherlands. From the Netherlands, I and a couple others flew to New York, New York. I slept four and a half hours’ in a hotel. Then I flew alone Friday from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. I returned to my home of junior high and high school in North Las Vegas. 

American Twilight Zone (March 2O2O)

My first few weeks in the States felt weird, not just because of reverse culture shock. Back in Mongolia, fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, particularly Health Volunteers, had followed American media and read that our presidential administration had been downplaying the COVID-19 pandemic. Problematically, too, when leaders acknowledged it, some labeled it the “China virus” and accused Asians of spreading it. These set the tone. 

When I arrived in New York, I felt perturbed by the lack of mask-wearing and physical distancing. The morning when I’d fly out, I felt annoyed when the worker who checked me into my flight joked that I might have the virus since I’d flown in from Mongolia. Mongolia had no COVID cases—and wouldn’t have its first community transmission till November 11, 2O2O. Friends, too, when I said that I’d come back, distrusted that I couldn’t have the virus. So, although Peace Corps peers and I had already been quarantining nearly a month and a half before returning to the States—and very much craved to reconnect with folks—we found ourselves again isolated. 

Then Vegas felt weird. Nevada had reported its first COVID case the day before I returned, yet Mongolia hadn’t any. Yet Mongolia had shut down, and Nevada hadn’t. Society moved as though little was happening. My brothers still had school and were gone most of most days. Dad worked weekdays out-of-town. Thus, while I lived again in the States, even inside my family’s home, I was the only one around. I felt lonelier than how’d I’d felt before leaving my life abroad. 

The Filipina family of my father’s fiancée was perhaps the most understanding of my circumstances. The oldest daughter was celebrating her birthday that first Sunday, March 8, since my return to the States. So, I got to join them in enjoying the occasion. As I’d come to learn, Mongolia and the Philippines had more cultural similarities than I’d expected. I’d also feel dismayed to learn that people weren’t treating the youngest daughter kindly in her food service role, for some customers believed that her being Asian meant that she had the Coronavirus. 

Resettling Into Lent (March 2O2O)

Most every morning, my first few days and weeks, tracks from Disney's “Frozen II” became my anthems. I’d seen the film that Friday, March 6, when I’d flown alone back to Vegas. I’d connected especially with “Show Yourself,” “Some Things Never Change” and “The Next Right Thing.” I started to learn the lyrics not only in English but also in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. 

My local church was still open. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, our church had been closed for nearly months. So, I attended services daily. I overheard old parishioners wondering what all this pandemic talk was about. I visited Reconciliation and a Stations of the Cross service. I applied to sing in the choir with which my late mom sang. 

My second week in the States, church and schools closed. Meanwhile, Peace Corps announced its global evacuation. My peers and I weren’t to expect to return to Mongolia this summer and instead were to expect that fall would be the soonest. My youngest brother’s hs senior spring ended abruptly, so he stuck around at the house. Our oldest brother left to quarantine with his girlfriend and her sisters. 

I cleaned much in and around the house. My greatest achievement early in the pandemic was to lead a garage clean-up with all siblings when my sisters visited. The task enabled us to at last park a vehicle in it once more. My siblings and I donated, too, decades of belongings. 

Among the unearthing, I dove deep into family history. I wrote up my understanding of my father's and my late mother's ancestries, which were also mine. Months later, I'd join WikiTree, talk to distant relatives and migrate large swathes of history onto the platform. 

Easter in Action (April–May 2O2O)

Gloom seemed to enshroud the world by Easter. I saw from the telly the Vatican's Lenten services, witnessing Pope Francis’ words from his city to the world and for Holy Week. His Good Friday Way of the Cross felt especially moving, for prisoners had written beautiful reflections that made me realize how little of a prison our quarantine was. 

My younger sister in LA had also returned to visit Vegas. I resumed daily exercise routines, including trying to concurrently complete handheld video games and walk miles on the treadmill. This began my May push to make the most of my days back in America. I kicked up a daily Duolingo habit, rising through leagues, and talked regularly with Mongols during early mornings. Such helped my sanity, especially when state offices gave me a hard time trying to get the unemployment assistance to which lawmakers entitled evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.  

Around Memorial Day, an uncle and aunt visited from Kansas to celebrate my youngest brother’s high school graduation online. The relatives also took my siblings, a family friend and me on my first national parks trip in years. We saw Saguaro, Great Basin and Capitol Reef. During the trip I’d grown my Goodreads library and soon enough uncovered the Libby app. The journey led me too to begin a pensive look back on my life. 

Summer in Reno (June–July 2O2O)

Dad remarried on June 6, 2020. Shortly thereafter, I relocated to Reno to help Pa and Stepma (“Tita”) handle copious amounts of yard work. With more time to reflect, I took up the request of a homebound friend to pray rosaries daily over the phone with him. 

Another friend of mine was going through a dark patch too but had a love of films. So each morning I’d rise early to see one of his recommendations then discuss it while working the yard if I wasn’t praying a rosary. I fondly recall the conversations while trimming plants, as I wander the Reno backyard even now. 

Near the same time, the friend and another encouraged me to tell my stories. So I began to write a memoir, on which he’d give feedback. The other friend had me appear on his podcast. Both experiences made the summer feel very whole. In memory of my first summer in Mongolia 2OI9, I also wrote a more detailed series on those experiences. [Arrival (June 2OI9), Meeting Host Family (July 2OI9), Summer’s End (August 2OI9)]

I celebrated my 23rd birthday in Vegas with an overnight vigil, praying 23 rosaries alone and with Catholic friends from around the globe. I felt such joy to reconnect meaningfully with so many across languages and cultures. Languages became a growing theme for me. I’d also begun again playing Pokémon GO after having not played since 2OI6. 

That summer, I finished seeing “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (Season 7) as well as relevant bits from “Star Wars: Rebels.” I kept up with the Japanese episodes of “Pokémon Journeys: The Series.” Those, I’ve watched with English subtitles to know what’s happening. I’d also begun to read chapters of the Bible daily, at that time checking in weekly with an ol' friend. I started with Acts then Proverbs, Ephesians then Psalms. Meanwhile came Hebrews and John. Then were Ruth and Matthew. Now I read 1 Kings and Mark. I’d grown to appreciate both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles with renewed interest. 

Autumn Languages (August–September 2O2O)

Much of that fall, I was back in Reno. Yet, my younger brother had also come to Reno for his undergraduate fall semester. The guest room where I’d stayed quickly became his room, which left me a tad displaced. Still, I stuck through. Mornings, I rose early to read through a Latin textbook before daily conversations with a close friend who’d majored in classics as an undergrad.

Meanwhile, I’d stepped up to arrange meetings with Congressional lawmakers on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association. I’d also taken on roles within my alma mater Honors College and within the Social Justice Task Force for the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I kept people organized and took notes during meetings. Meanwhile, my siblings and I had been starting a scholarship foundation, so I’d taken point on negotiating a partnership with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation. 

As a nice break, I joined friends I’d met in high school on their near-monthly trips to national and state parks. These sights included Lassen Volcanic, Burney Falls and Tahoe’s Emerald Bay. Realizing that I wouldn’t return to Mongolia that fall, I booked a Department of Motor Vehicles appointment to renew my learner’s permit—The earliest appointment would be in December. 

In entertainment news, I’d finished seeing “Queer Eye: We’re in Japan,” “Love on the Spectrum” and “Midnight Gospel.” I’d also started playing “Pokémon Masters EX” when I’d heard that it included characters from multiple generations. I enjoyed how the stories felt new yet nostalgic. 

National Park Winter (October, November, December 2O2O)

October was a great month for my spiritual life. I got to attend my youngest sister’s Confirmation. I enjoyed my first retreat in years. I also got to tape videos for my alma mater. 

Then I returned to Vegas some weeks to complete more yard work. I’d also relocated belongings in different rooms and was able to have my own bedroom back in Vegas. This gave me a decent space in which to work. From November, I’ve also been hosting weekly video calls to help Mongols from my community abroad continue to practice English. 

I’d also listened to Riordan audiobooks, “Blood of Olympus” and “Hidden Oracle,” and various authors’ financial literacy materials. By December, “Kafka on the Shore” was a real highlight. In Reno, I saw too “The Mandalorian” (Seasons 1–2), emphatically recommended by a friend with whom I’d hiked at Red Rock Canyon. My other friends and I reunited to try again at Crater Lake and succeeded. 

My siblings and I partnered with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation to launch our family LinYL Foundation to honor our late mother with scholarships for students. Though my formal role’s within outreach, I’ve done a fair bit of organizational leadership given my undergrad experiences. I’ve also been helping another non-profit start-up. Through it, I’ve gotten to meet alumni of overseas programs. 

My family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in Vegas with our stepsisters. I’d also celebrated American Independence Day with them. Christmas felt peculiar, as I’d returned from Mongolia to Vegas the Christmas before, too! 

Then my national parks friends and I hit a new record, seeing Walnut Canyon, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge and the Grand Canyon. Having successfully renewed my learner’s permit, I scheduled my driving test for the earliest date—February. I returned to Reno and at New Year’s reunited with friends for whom I’d participated in their wedding the year before. 

Road to Rejuvenation (January–February 2O2I)

Following the U.S. elections came the presidential inauguration. I felt more at peace with the state of the nation after that. Though U.S. politics have absorbed media significantly throughout the pandemic, I felt relieved by the calls for unity and returns to political normalcy from Inauguration Day. 

Meanwhile, I sought to kick off 2O2I strong, with renewed optimism and control. I practiced driving almost daily. I’d seen “Daredevil” (Season 3) too and progressed in the Blue Lions story of my younger sister’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses” copy. At February’s start, after years of challenges, I secured my driver’s license. 

Mid-February, my national parks friends and I saw Utah’s Mighty Five. Our trip spanned Canyonlands, Arches, Capitol Reef (different section), Escalante, Bryce Canyon and Zion. I got to help drive at the end from Vegas to Reno, a major milestone. 

Thanks to Discord, I attended a virtual alumni reunion of my high school alma mater. I experienced our school's recreation in “Minecraft: Java Edition,” wandering into the classroom where I used to play “Minecraft” as a freshman. In “RuneScape,” after 12 years on-off, I’d achieved level 99 in all but the newest skill. I'd even gotten the characters I wanted in “Pokémon Masters EX” and nearly finished my Kanto Pokédex in “Pokémon GO.” (I've never before completed a Pokédex.) 

I finished February recording music for my undergrad parish’s online edition to our annual performance for “Living Stations of the Cross.” I got to lector at and attend a friend’s baptism. I’d also soaked up my youngest sister’s boyfriend’s Disney+ again and saw “WandaVision” entirely. Its takes on grief and joy astounded. 

Social Justice (March 2O2I)

These bring me to where and how I am today. I write from Reno, Nev., where snow had fallen and the weather grown warmer. Spring is here. 

The announcement of increasing vaccines gave me lots of hope. Since I've lost so many people this past year to COVID-19 and other conditions I'm grateful that we may near the end. An email from and a check-in call with Peace Corps confirmed that summer would be the soonest I’m going back abroad. Still, I’ve kept in touch with my people in Mongolia. 

My older brother and his girlfriend moved into the Vegas house, so I haven’t felt as obligated to be there. Thus, I’ve focused more time on the church in Reno. 

A great fount of a spiritual joy for me has been getting to help lector for my college parish’s weekly Proclamations of the Word. I received particular acclaim for my reading from 2 Chronicles, for Lent’s Fourth Sunday, which delighted me. At the time I’d been reading 1 Kings, so I’d enjoyed recognizing parallels. In some ways the exercises are like a miniature college course. Beyond regular Sundays and Holy Week, I’d also lectored for such feast days as St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25). 

My siblings’ and my family foundation chose our first year of recipients. It’s been an exciting process, reading and witnessing our inspiring candidates. I hope that I'll get to meet these students someday, but ah, the pandemic. 

I’ve gotten back into “Frozen II,” thanks to its authentic behind-the-scenes docuseries. I've also passed the one-year anniversary of my first seeing the film. Each morning I’ve sought to see something on Disney's platform—real' nice. 

Our psychological division’s presidential task force for Social Justice released our statement about the Capitol riots, which received strong critics but stronger supporters. Then came the Atlanta situation. 

In my U.S. Week 5I (Feb. 19–25), during a walk past the nearby elementary school, I’d had an unpleasant personal experience that led me to feel very grateful when the #StopAsianHate campaign began. I’ll likely share more later, but today’s blog story is about done. 

Hope and Easter 2O2I (April 2O2I)

At the last Adoration activity before Easter, our parish offered Reconciliation, so I returned again. Absolution offers such sweet cleansing for my mind and soul. Now Holy Week begins. I'm still lectoring, too! 

This summer, I hope to write more on my memoir. I’m still revising my research. I'm set to finish all five tiers of Duolingo Latin tomorrow. Then I'll get back to my textbook. 

I still delight in chatting with ol’ friends. My national parks homies and I will hit Redwood next weekend. Then my parish has Spring Retreat. I look forward to getting vaccinated in coming months then hugging folks forevermore.