Went to the Steppe Inne, the British embassy’s Friday night social hour, last night. I’ve been one other time this year. I think I went once last year.
Friday night is the worst time for flagging a taxi. Everyone’s going somewhere, and they line the sides of Peace Avenue, arms pointing into the street, a few meters from each other.
But last night wasn’t bad; I didn’t wait long. An old car pulled over, I got in the front seat, said hello to the old guy, and remembered that I had forgotten how to say “embassy.”
“To the British ‘posolstvo,’” I said, using the Russian word.
“Medekhgui,” he said. I don’t know.
“Zaa, zaa, just go straight.” I dug into my satchel and pulled out my pocket dictionary and looked up “embassy.”
“To the British elchin saidin yaam,” I said.
He laughed. “Medekhgui. Where’s the British embassy?”
“Zaa, zaa, just go straight.”
Playing on the radio was a rap-rock song in Mongolian, with an accordion squeezing out a rhythm in the background. After two verses, a voice broke over the tune and drawled in accented English:
“Khi everyone, you’re listening to Tatar’s new shit. This song is called ‘Message.’ Check it out.”
There were eight people at the Steppe Inne; ten including the two bartenders.
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3 comments:
"Author of *The Steppe*, the new novel about a man who lives alone in the Mongolian steppe, fighting and eating mythical monsters."
EATING them? good lord.
What brings you to Mongolia?
peace...
@lelly
Indeed eating them. Cool story. Read it while I was in MNG last July. Not a story you want to read while out on the steppe at night, though. You might just encounter those mythical monsters. The Mongolian steppe can do that to your head.
I heard "this is tatar's new song" anyway great journey gluck!!!
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