Note to the Reader: This account represents my personal opinion and experience. This account also represents the actions of one person and does not portray the actions or attitude of the Foundation as a whole.

What is it with apartments?

When we were in Bloomington, we made arrangements with Enkhbold to rent a room from him for a month while we looked for apartments in UB. The idea was that we needed a safe place to land while we got our bearings in a strange town. Enkhbold was to rent us the apartment for $250 per month, plus utilities.

The Foundation Representative for Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia, whom we will henceforth refer to as "X", called us at MIDNIGHT the night before we left for Asia while we were guests at the Kensington Park hotel. He said that he had found an apartment for us to rent, but that the owner of the apartment had a Mongolian family lined up to rent the apartment, and that we had to commit to taking the apartment. With my hand over the phone, Zina and I discussed it briefly. We told "X" that we would only commit to viewing the apartment, and simply could not commit to renting it sight-unseen. We also mentioned that we had an arrangement in place with Enkhbold.

When we arrived in UB after a long trip and having jet lag -- we were 12 hours out of synch, and I didn't manage more than 10 hours of sleep in the previous 48 hours -- we were met at UB airport by Zola and The Foundation's driver, Byamba, along with a second driver for our luggage. We said that we wanted to have our luggage taken to Enkhbold's apartment, confused, Zola thought that we had made different arrangements. She called "X", and we were taken to see the apartment that "X" had arranged, and Byamba took our luggage to the Tuushin Hotel.

We were taken to the Flower Hotel, which has a Japanese restaurant, to meet "X" over lunch. After our mid-day meal, Zola, "X", Zina and I met with Selenge, the owner of the apartment, her daughter, Oyuun at the apartment, which was quite nearby. We were pleased with the apartment: it has good light, the furnishings are either new or in good condition, and it is reasonably well furnished. We agreed to take the apartment on the spot, feeling that it was a reasonably good match with our needs. Honestly, I wasn't sure about what to expect from Mongolian apartments, and this apartment was a lot nice than what I'd prepared myself to accept.

At the apartment, "X" reiterated the attributes of the apartment: it's in "the former Soviet Enclave, so it's warm in the winter", "it's in a safe neighborhood" and "An American man lives here, and he likes it." We noted that "The American Man" has expensive tastes in electronics: the HD-TV with DVD and VCR units dominated one end of the living room, and there was an enormous washer/dryer combination eating up most of the floors pace in the kitchen. We were informed that The American Man was moving to a place that already had a washer/dryer, and these appliances in the apartment were available to buy for $1100 US dollars. We passed. I wouldn't pay that much for a full-size washer/dryer combo in the US!

After staying 2 nights at the Tuushin, we used 3 cabs to ferry all our belongings over to our new digs. It was a relief to not have to haul all our crap around. We settled into the apartment and began to get acclimated.

As the days and weeks passed, we interacted with the folks at The Foundation, and mingled with the guys at ESBP, we began to realize that some things didn't add up. For example, when we saw the apartment for the first time, Zola and Oyuun didn't seem to know each other. Weeks later, at a large dinner recognizing the work of two American filmmakers, Zola and Oyuun were sitting next to each other, chatting away. Zina asked if she new Oyuun, to which she uncomfortably replied "No."

Other ill-fitting facts kept arising: we were being dropped at home after dinner by someone who knows "X". This person said "Say, doesn't "X" live in this building?" We had not bumped into him, and figured that he would have mentioned it if he did live in the same building. Peculiar.

Furthermore, we began noticing some behavioral oddities between "X" and Zola: it's as if there were some unwritten subtext being played out between them. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was there. We were sure that something lay just beneath the surface, hidden from view.

We had Zola over for dinner because we genuinely enjoy her company, and she had been so very helpful in getting settled in. During dinner, it comes out that she and "X" have been romantically involved for over 2 years. We find this interesting: it's usually frowned upon to work with your significant other, at least in the US. We figure, hey, it's Mongolia, whateverÉ we don't know the rules here. Good help is hard to find in any country.

Several weeks later, we had the guys from ESBP over for dinner and during the conversation, we discover that "X" had called Enkhbold before we even arrived in-country and told him that we wouldn't be taking his apartment because we'd already signed a contract. Enkhbold was quite confused since we'd explicitly told him by e-mail the day before we left that we'd take his apartment. This elevated "X" from simply an obfuscator to a bold-faced liar.

Several weeks after that, Zola calls us and tells us that HER MOTHER has asked her to come and pick up the rent! She explains that she didn't want to do it, so as to keep up the impression of separation between herself, The Foundation, and the rental of the apartment. She further states that "X" had warned her not to be involved in the rental so that "things wouldn't look wrong." So, finally, the truth comes out: "X" had lied to us, lied to Enkhbold, and instructed Zola's entire family to lie to us in order to hide the simple fact that we are renting an apartment belonging to the mother of the woman he was sleeping and working with. Needless to say, Zina and I were pretty furious about the deception.

We find the deception completely inexplicable. We understand that there are no Yellow Pages, no Real Estate Agents, and that the local papers don't have thousands of listings every week for apartments to rent. We understand that in Mongolia, things often get done by word of mouth. If you want something, you start by asking friends and family if they know anyone who can provide the needed goods or services: it benefits those closest to you, and that's a good thing. Why should it be otherwise? We certainly would not have been even slightly bothered had "X" simply said "Hey, Zola's mother has a nice place -- do you want to look at it?" Instead, he hit us with a hard-sell and amply demonstrated that he's a serial liar.

The excrement hits the rotary air movement device

Needless to say, we were pretty put off by the whole affair, and we discussed our plan of action. Zina and I spent way too much time debating our course of action: should we call "X" to the carpet for lying and risk having the balance of our time marred by the ill-will of "X"? Should we place a complaint with The Foundation regarding this appalling behavior, and again, risk the Wrath of "X"? Should we just make like nothing happened and continue in a normal mode? In the end, we decided to take no action and simply avoid The Foundation as much as possible, which was hard: they have a fast internet connection, and they act as our Post Office box.

To her credit, Zola noticed the chilling of our relations with the The Foundation staffers. She incorrectly thought it was because of the physical aspects of the apartment, she apparently mentioned this to "X". I don't think that she nor "X" ever considered we might have been gravely offended by being lied to.

"X" calls us one evening after dinner. He tells us that Zola thinks we're unhappy with the apartment. My heart stops for a moment, and I consider the ramifications. I think that "X", who I consider an articulate, intelligent human being, can possibly, with careful diplomatic wording, be enlightened as to how we feel about the situation. So, I take a deep breath and, deciding to take an irreversible step, start by saying ""X", we like the apartment very much, but we don't like how we got it." I sincerely wish that I had a tape recording of our conversation after this point with "X". It'd be fun to play at parties.

The conversation had a distinctly circular pattern to it: the loop would start by describing the desirable attributes of the apartment: I would reply with ""X", we LIKE the apartment, We DON'T LIKE being deceived." I studiously avoided calling him a liar or even using the word "lie". Then, there would be some wild-card discussion: each time the loop was repeated, he would discuss one of several topics in this phase: that he was understaffed and overworked, claiming 16 hour days in the office; that he had used MANY staff hours seeking housing for us; that one of the former staffers, the well-respected Ms. Naran, had quit over our housing placement; that he had taken a massive pay-cut in order to come to serve at The Foundation office here in Mongolia; and that he personally wasn't benefiting from the rental of our apartment in ANY way, and that he was "Sorry for our perception". One thing that he said -- which I'd predicted he would say -- is that we "don't understand the Mongolian culture. "X" asserted that Mongolians are "naturally conservative" when discussing personal business matters, and he implied that it's pretty normal to obscure the facts in a business transaction.

Towards the end of the conversation, I said ""X", when it comes to this transaction, it was not conducted between an American and a Mongolian: you and I were doing business and I did not anticipate having to alter my moral standards regarding truthfulness when dealing with you, an American. Furthermore, you, as The Foundation representative, should be very careful to set the best example possible." I hadn't meant this in a menacing way, but I now see that it could be understood as a veiled threat. "X" and I concluded our discussion shortly after that statement. This conversation lasted about 45 minutes.

The following day, I was working on the computer, and Zina answered the phone because it was her turn. We had developed a severe aversion to answering the phone because it might be "X". On this occasion, it was. I heard Zina answer the phone, a couple of brief sentences and then about 10 minutes of silence. I became curious and went into the bedroom. I asked if she was on hold: she shook her head, and I noticed that she was red with anger. "X" was on a rant and Zina couldn't get a word in edgewise. Zina told me later that he went on about how we should be more appreciative of his efforts, that Zola's family was furious because we had insulted "X's" veracity, that Zola's family was demanding an apology to "X", and that they said we "should be happy [with the apartment] or get out." Furthermore, "X" kept asserting that he "didn't have anything to do with" the apartment rental, to which Zina replied "Then what are you doing calling us?!" I suspect that the irony of that question was lost on "X". This second conversation also lasted approximately 45 minutes.

Later the same day, "X" called again, and it was my turn to answer the phone. We had an uncharacteristically short conversation in which we agreed that Zina and I would meet Zola for a cup of coffee in a nearby restaurant. We spent about an hour discussing the situation with Zola. We immediately reassured her that there was nothing wrong with the apartment, nor did we bear any ill will towards her or her family. We reasserted that we didn't like being deceived. She admitted that they had taken the wrong approach in trying to conceal things, but in the next breath, said that she had been quite uncomfortable when she came to pick up the rent. In other words, she still had the urge to maintain the fabrication. She also said that she felt that "X" was a very kind person, a very brilliant person, and that she really didn't want us to think badly of him. We were pretty impressed by the loyalty that she showed to "X". We were equally impressed by her naivety.

In retrospect, I wish I'd have taken a more direct line of attack at the beginning of this fiasco. I should have said: ""X", we like the apartment, however, you suck. You lied to us and our friends, instructed others to lie, and you got caught. Yes, we know you're banging Zola, yes, we know the apartment belongs to her mother, and we think you should just suck it up and take it like a man. And don't even try to tell me that you're not benefiting, you dumb bastard. No, we're not going to rat you out to the San Francisco office, so you can quit writhing around like a damn 3rd grader trying to convince his teacher that the dog ate the homework." Of course, I'm not sure that would have gotten superior results, but I would have felt better.

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NOTICE: all contents copyright Alan Lapp 2002