Oh Mongolia, land of ancient warriors & brave nomads, what are you doing to your capital city? This ring of yellow haze hangs over the city every day from June to November. During the summer, add to that yellow haze the noxious, eye-burning, stomach-lurching smell of untreated sewage.
During the winter, the haze turns black & thick; it clots in the throat. All season long, from this high hill that overlooks the city, nothing is evident except a static black coal-cloud, like an iron top on a blackened kettle. That is Ulaan Bataar.
At street level, imagine that every traffic light & traffic rule in New York City suddenly vanished, & everyone got stinking drunk & suicidal, then got behind the wheel & drove like mad all over the city...that's what traffic is like in Ulaan Baatar. Except that there is no accompanying American traffic jam human behavior...horn honking, expletives flying out of windows, middle fingers waving, faces apoplectic with rage. No, here the drivers' faces are serene, mellow, & quiet behind the wheel. The men are tough. They say their government doesn't care about the pollution. They chain smoke fuck-it cigarettes, the exhalations of which add to the poisonous ever-present Mongolian sky soup.
On the other hand, in the midst of this, in a one-room chapel in the center of town, stands the largest indoor statue in the world -- an 87-foot tall lady Buddha with four arms. As a mere human standing before her, to look at her face, you must let your head loll back as far as it can go, stretching until the back of your neck is no longer visible...only then can you begin...just barely begin...to see her face. While doing so, your mouth will fall open in awe & so you will become part of a group of gawkers, all with their heads tilted back & mouths wide open, like a flock of startled birds.
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