The nine sets of nine days of the Mongolian winter: http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2011/01/20/nine-sets-of-nine-days-of-mongolian-winter/ - it says the current temperatures are around minus 41 degree Fahrenheit, and they live in these round ger tents, with minimal heating. Don't forget to click on the ger link.
The First Nine: Milk vodka congeals and freezes
The Second Nine: Vodka congeals and freezes
The Third Nine: Tail of a three-year-old ox freezes
The Fourth Nine: Horns of a four-year-old ox freezes
The Fifth Nine: Boiled rice no longer congeals and freezes
The Sixth Nine: Roads become visible from under the snow and ice
The Seventh Nine: Hilltops appear
The Eighth Nine: Ground becomes damp
The Ninth Nine: Warmer days set in
The fourth one is the worst – and that’s where they are now.
Mongolia has been on my mind the last 2 years, ever since I saw the most beautiful film ever - Mongolian Ping Pong, each frame a painting by a master, a paean to innocence.
And since I read the biography of Genghis Khan by John Man,
And finally own a CD of beautiful Mongolian throat singing, Alash: http://www.alashensemble.com
".....We should be careful of each other, we should be kind, while there is still time." Philip Larkin
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2011
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January
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- Si, si, Indio!
- Now tell me
- Mongolia on my mind
- Communion
- Reading
- L’Asie en notes et en motocyclette
- Returning
- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
- Unblinking Grief
- Over the years...
- The hallucination of contemporary life
- I know it all
- Dave Barry: Bring Back Captain Video :) :)
- Home
- The molecule that helps us decide among alternatives
- I listen
- Returning to the Great Stories
- Morning
- Wanderer
- Mari
- Transient
- The life of the mind
- Discovery
- Go forth masked
- The option to change our minds
- Ghetto
- Stranger
- Does more information mean we know less?
- Joe Hisaishi
- Fast Enough
- Walk away
- Apoptosis
- There, rest. No more suffering for you.
- Poem written in the street on a rainy evening
- The debasement of language
- Aur woh hasthé hué kaha....
- Douglas Adams: Parrots, the Universe, and Everything
- Andrew Bird
- We're only passing through
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January
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