From Cold Showers to Warm Hearts: Life in Mongolia One TIM at a Time

We figured it was about time we introduced you to TIM. You might be wondering—who is TIM? Well, TIM stands for This Is Mongolia, and we use it fondly to describe all the things that are uniquely, sometimes hilariously, Mongolian: the traffic, the broken sidewalks, the UB cab experience, the complete absence of measuring spoons, and of course, the joyful chaos of Children’s Day.

This week brought not one, but two classic TIM moments.

The first: cold showers. Since much of Mongolia’s infrastructure dates back to the Soviet era, all the hot water and electricity for the city—yes, all 1.5 million people—comes from a central source. Once a year, that system shuts down for scheduled maintenance. For two weeks, there’s no hot water in the pipes.

On day one, we bravely attempted a shower. Ten seconds in, we were convinced the water was coming straight from Siberia. It was brain-freeze cold. After that shock, we devised a survival system: fill the tub the night before so the water could reach room temperature, then add boiling water in the morning. A bit of a production—but hey, TIM!

The second TIM moment came when we finally received our Mongolian Residence Cards. These are necessary for us to begin the process of getting local driver’s licenses. Jay, who’s been guiding us through all the red tape, said he’d take us to the hospital for the required tests. “Tests?” we asked nervously. Jay explained we’d need to pass vision, hearing, psychiatric, and reflex exams.

J.D. was especially worried about the vision test due to poor sight in one eye. But we quickly remembered: TIM.

At the hospital, we paid 50,000 tugriks each (about $28 USD total) and got started. First stop: vision test. A woman held up a card with a single number to check for color blindness. We named the number. She nodded, stamped the paper, not once, but twice, and we moved on. When we asked Jay about it, he informed us that was the audiologist, and since the eye doctor was out in the countryside for the summer, she did both tests.  No eye chart. No one-eye-covered tests. Just: “Can you see this number?” TIM.

The next room brought the psychiatric test. We braced ourselves for deep questions or maybe a personality inventory. Instead, the woman at the desk looked up and asked, “How old are you?” "Do you have nerve problems" We stated our age and said no. She smiled. STAMP.

Finally, the reflex test. We walked into the room, not a word was said but—yep—STAMP.

Four tests, four stamps, all done in about 15 minutes. We left laughing, shaking our heads, and repeating our new favorite phrase: This Is Mongolia.

And honestly, we’re learning to love every quirky, unexpected, and unforgettable part of it. TIM.

Here we are huddling together after being invited into a guard's shack that was designed for one person while waiting for our cab in the pouring rain.  The kindness of total strangers.....TIM!

And finally beautiful countryside with cows, sheep, horses, and yaks everywhere...TIM!

Interesting fact about the sheep....if you look closely you can see them huddled in little circles.  Although their white wool keeps their bodies cool, their black faces get hot.  They huddle together to create shade for their heads!

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Many people have asked what we spend our days doing. Besides teaching English, assisting with the Young Single Adults, supporting young missionaries, and volunteering at the homeless shelter, we spend a good part of our time writing stories about the Church in Mongolia. Lately, we’ve been focusing on the early pioneers of the Church here—interviewing them to discover their incredible experiences, then writing news stories to share their faith and sacrifice.

You can find them on the Church’s Mongolia Newsroom (They’re currently in English, awaiting translation into Mongolian—feel free to take a look if you’re interested in reading some really inspiring stories!).

On a more serious note, J.D.’s 83-year-old father, Dean, passed away peacefully in his sleep on Friday morning. While we will miss him dearly, we feel peace knowing that he is no longer suffering and is now reunited with loved ones. We will be flying home tomorrow for a week to offer support to our sweet GG, attend the funeral services and spend time with family. Then, we’ll return to Mongolia, ready to continue the work—because there is still work to be done.