The (Soviet) Roller Coaster From Hell

Every once in a while you come across a photo which so perfectly captured a moment that you feel compelled to show it to anyone with eyeballs.  A photo which can't just be pulled up on a friend's phone in passing; it has earned the right to have its backstory told and scene set. Luckily for you, I have one such photo. 

I nearly died in Mongolia.  (Truthfully, given the lack of basic safety procedures in the country I most likely nearly died regularly in Mongolia.)  On one of our final days in country we spent eight hours at their national amusement park, which only had about five working rides.  It was a bit much.  The first ride we jumped on was the sole roller coaster in the park.  

A few key points to understand:

- on this roller coaster, one must buckle themselves in (and then pray)

- the teenager running the roller coaster was taking naps in between rides

- this roller coaster was built by the Soviets in the 80's or 90's and had had no obvious updates since then

- I am terrified of roller coasters in my own country

The ride went about as well as I had anticipated: complete hell.  

Still hopeful, pre-ride

 

It's about to get real

Teenaged controller taking a nap (behind Rita)

(Luke, my student, blacked out during the ride because of some Soviet design flaws - it sped up when an American roller coaster would have slowed down).  

It was so traumatic for me that I cried.  Deep, crippling sobs...in front the students.  And this picture caught it all, including the entertained reactions of everyone else.  Luke laughed so hard at me, he cried too.  

This picture made the whole harrowing experience worth it.  

The Best Museum In The Entire World. Period.

About two months ago I had the uniquely distinct pleasure of visiting the very best museum in the world. Period.  Turns out that my dad just found the pictures that I thought I had permanently deleted and been seriously beating myself up over which turned out to still be on the camera's hard drive the whole time and now I feel like an idiot but at least now I can finally blog about this ridiculously insane trip.  And with that, I give you...

The Intellectual Museum.  Ulanbaatar, Mongolia.

The Intellectual Museum is a three story converted apartment building which houses puzzles.  Like, a shit ton of puzzles.  We are fairly certain that our guide had exceptional English skills.  Only fairly certain because mostly she continuously pointed at things like a table or a doorway saying: "And THIS is a puzzle, and THIS is a puzzle, and THIS is a puzzle!"  You will be shocked to learn that the WHOLE BUILDING was a puzzle, according to our guide.  

Once we left the puzzle floor, we found the "games and other toys" floors.  That was when things got really crazy.

Before we get too involved here, let me explain that there are a few non-negotiable rules of the Intellectual Museum.  First, one must not wear shoes, one must wear booties at all times.  We don't know why. Second, one must never take any pictures of anything, at any time.  Third, you may never touch the puzzles for any reason (an astoundingly frustrating rule for a museum full of toys!).

  

I understand how rule #2 came into being: the Intellectual Museum is fucking insane and everyone will want to take pictures (the Mongolians claim that the no picture rule is to keep their puzzles secret  - from the notorious Mongolian puzzle spies, I assume).  Well, considering that I pretty much never plan to return to Mongolia, I decided to break rule #2 and brought all my students down with me.  We used each other to hide our cameras from our guide.  Oh, we took some pictures. 

"The Life has a full of Happiness if family is peaceful serene."

To this day, I am unsure of the requisites required of a piece in order to be displayed in the Intellectual Museum.  It appears that the museum will display any toy or game that was ever created.  There is no rhyme or reason to it.  There were everyday Barbie dolls on display (arms optional), a Little Mermaid pillow-book, pins, velcro games, stuffed animals - my God, were there stuffed animals.  Anything that can be purchased at Walmart or made in a sweatshop can make it behind glass at the Intellectual Museum.  

Luke, my student, to our guide: "Can you tell me what the theme of this display case is? I'm stumped by the dolls, dinosaurs, disposable cameras and the Michael Jackson masks." 

Guide: "Yes, it is showing some toys and also the evolution of film technology."

Our tour of the Intellectual Museum ended about as well as I could have dreamed.  Turns out a large, angry soviet woman had been watching us taking illegal pictures on their hidden cameras.  And then we were kicked out of the gift shop (the only place you get to touch the puzzles!) and asked to leave. 

I miss you, Intellectual Museum.  Never change. 

Moving On, Moving In

Time is on my mind.  The past, the future, the elusiveness of time.  Scott and I are moving in together this weekend, and boy am I on an emotional roller coaster.  I've consulted my best friends Britney and Taylor and even they don't know what to say to me right now.  What if it doesn't work out and I just donated all my furniture to Goodwill?  What if it does work out and these last five nights are the last time I will live alone...like, ever?  What if, God forbid, Scott disowns me once he sees all the TLC shows that I watch?

Moving in with someone is a big deal.  Some people will try to tell you that it's not, but they're lying.  For me, it's the end of an era.  I love living in Washington Park.  I've been in the same zip code my entire life (college excepted) and I'm comfortable here.  I know the traffic patterns, which dogs are friendly, and my PR time from my front door around the park and back.  I've seen the neighborhood evolve.  I've witnessed The Girl-Who-Screams-During-Sex enter into and end multiple (apparently very enjoyable) relationships.  Not least of all, this is where I learned to be self-sufficient. 

But honestly, my emotional roller coaster isn't really about leaving the neighborhood.  It's about change. 

Change was forced upon me - big time - yesterday in another arena.  I hadn't expected someone that I've vilified for the past 13 years - someone who stole something irreplaceable from me - to ask me for forgiveness.  I wasn't prepared.  Images of my past flash before my eyes, even now.  The years of pain, the struggle to find a new normal, to heal a deep cut.  Part of me resents that he asked for this and that I agreed.  Suddenly, a huge weight has been thrust upon me without any notice: it is all on me now to figure out how I move on.  I can't use my anger as a crutch anymore; I have to figure out what my future looks like without it, and it's overwhelming.  I wonder sometimes if our fear of the future is not that it is going to be different, but that it is going to be exactly the same. 

With all the stress and the fear connected to moving in with someone, it's easy to forget why you choose to do it in the first place.  For me, I chose this path for myself because if I do this, then I get to live with Scott.  And Scott is my world.  I get to live with someone who feeds me Pringles through the phone, who lets me practice opening peanut butter cups on his chest using only my toes, who has never made me feel like Bear is baggage, who sings to me when we're cooking, who reads the books I recommend to him, who supports me eating gluten free without any complaint, who climbed a tree on our third date, who has taken on running to do it together, who loves having dinner with our parents, who gets more excited about going to prom (in his dad's sports car) as chaperones than I do, who cheers me on when it takes me 45 minutes to get down a ski run (it was an unavoidable black diamond, btw), who forgives me for untucking the covers every night, who dances in a rainbow onesie - with my dog, who talks about the tough stuff willingly, who shows up for me - no matter what.

That guy is my future, and he makes all this uncomfortable change worth it. 

"I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire...I give it [this watch] to you not that you may remember time but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

- The Sound and the Fury