I awoke. My eyes opened onto a grim palate of smoky gray and deep, opaque darkness blended into a looming shadow of despair. Flat on my back, I rest upon an endless dim and empty plain of dead grass and sharp rock, silently watched by that solemn, final sky above. I, the lone and supine body lying between the infinitely distant horizons. Nothing, now. Nothing, ever again. I have seen the end; I have seen many ends, and soon I shall see The End. Nothing now but rock and I, and our gloomy undertaker above. No need to move. The shifting shadows in the sky deepen, and that roiling blanket makes way for the emptiness, the emptiness that grows and will soon consume. Merely a spot in the sky, yet even the empty, deathly clouds make way for that burgeoning void. They twist and turn, a slow whorl of death; those silent whispers of finality swirl beside the emptiness, vanguards to the glorious End that begins to fill the sky.
I watch. That deep ravine widens, exhorting the Nothing beyond to enter upon my realm, to consume, blindly, with cruelty and malice. The empty and endless horizons which were my final fortress walls begin to crumble. Soon it is I, I and no other, I and naught else. A deep and silent thunder resounds; a great and terrible voice calling from beyond the Nothing – and it is the End.
I awake. The birds chirp to greet a new day; the sunlight burns my eyes. But I see the world with a gaze bedimmed. My sole memory now the clouds, the clouds: the clouds bespoke the End of All.
“Whenever I play that game two truths and one lie, I always
say I grew up in a circus, and everybody says that’s the lie,” said Batjargal “Bachka”
Batmunkh ’13, smiling, “but it’s not.”
Bachka actually did spend most of his childhood—from age
four to 12 on-stage with Cirque du Soleil’s “Algeria,” touring around the world and
going almost everywhere—with the exception, he said, of any African countries. His
favorites include New Zealand and Singapore.
[Photo courtesy of Batjargal Batmunkh]
He speaks French, Mongolian, and English, and he even
understands a little bit of Russian.
Since the age of three, Bachka had been traveling with his
mother, who was a coach for acts in the show, and he spent much of his time
backstage watching the acrobats perform. One day, he started imitating some of
the actions of stage (no acrobatics yet though!), and the creators of the show
decided to put him in. When they asked him if he’d like to have a part, “it was
the easiest yes ever,” he said.
“The first thing I did was do a quick move and then go off stage,”
he said, “I definitely made the crowd go ‘awe’.
There isn’t much you can do that is more fun then being a
kid in the midst of an artistic circus act. “Before they opened the house, I
would have my costume on and they would give me a big bag of popcorn,” said
Bachka.
In his younger years, Bachka’s father stayed home in
Mongolia, but eventually joined the Cirque crew as a coach for acrobats and
house troupes.
Though Bachka was the only kid in the show, he made friends
with the children of coaches and technicians. “Most of the time I was fooling
around backstage,” said Bachka, “my best friends and I would always hang out.”
“I also had a super Nintendo and some of the younger cast
members would get in trouble for playing with it, but I was allowed because I
was a kid,” he said.
He got into a fair share of trouble as well, growing up
backstage. Once him and a friend threw into their air a whole container of
confetti that was supposed to be used at ‘snow’ during the show; however the
audience soon found out that there was no ‘snow’ left to be used, and the two
boys were scolded when they had been discovered.
[Photo courtesy of Batjargal Batmunkh]
He has also met several celebrities though his stage career,
but he only remembers them due to the collection of photos his parents
keep—Janet Jackson, Harrison Ford, Whoopi Goldberg. Once he even high fived President
Bill Clinton; Bachka only found out the man’s identity after the show from the
adults. “I was pen pals with that boy from Spy Kids for a little bit,” he said.
“One of the most beautiful theaters to perform in,” said
Bachka, “was the Royal Albert Hall in London with its old design and terraces
for the audience.”
The one this that he missed out on, he said, were the
parties. “I wished I was old enough to enjoy them, but I was 10.”
Another thing that wasn’t as great for Bachka during those
years was his academic career. In the US, he said, they have a law that if you’re
a minor that works, you can only go to school for a certain amount of time and
are not allowed to be assigned homework. To supplement this, his parents
assigned him their own homework, and his mother continuously taught him reading
and writing in Mongolian, since he spent so much time abroad.
“The hardest thing to learn was actually putting on the
makeup,” Bachka said, “it took me a really long time to do.”
[Photo courtesy of Batjargal Batmunkh]
By the time Bachka was 10, he began to work on acrobatics.
“I was not a natural for it,” he said with a laugh.
The first trick he did was to hold on to the back of a man
who was performing a back flip. “At first it was pretty scary, but then it got
fun,” he said. The tricks did get harder, and he watched talented cast members
perform amazing tricks everyday.
“I thought the coolest act were the aerial high bars with a
net below; it always blew my mind,” he said.
The hardest trick he had to work on was a double back flip
pike. In fact, in one show, he over rotated and landed on his head and passed
out.
“My parents told me that the crowd was scared because I was
obviously the only kid in the show and I wasn’t moving,” said Bachka seriously,
“and it must have scared my parents because I stopped doing Cirque about a year
later. “
After Cirque, Bachka went back to Mongolia in 7th
grade and attended an international school that continued his exposures to a
variety of cultures. Because he
was athletic from his involvement in acrobatics, he continued to get involved
with sports in high school.
“I also learned to play drums from the show’s drummer. I sat
next to him during sound checks, and he taught me for three years,” said
Bachka. He was in a band in high school called “Mohanik” and January of his
senior year, they were signed and recorded an album together. He left the band
to attend Lehigh, and the band has since recorded more albums, played numerous
shows in Mongolia and recorded songs for movie soundtracks.
Bachka’s mother now works as a trainer for young aspiring
contortionists, and is able to send them on to large shows. If you wanted to
make it as a contortionist in Mongolia, you would have to go to her.
Bachka intends to stay in education, and hopefully work
internationally. “I wouldn’t mind being a principal for an international
school, travel, and work with kids.”
Ideally, he hopes to makes changes for the youth in Mongolia because the
government and education, since the change from communism in 1991, has become
corrupted.
The
Registrar’s webpage states “We are here to help you.” From my experience, this has not been the case. The page also states, “Our
responsibilities include the entire registration process.” If this is the case, then it is their
responsibility to revise their inefficient processes set forth by the academic
regulations. Their antiquated and inflexible system was brought to my attention
when I decided I wanted to learn piano. Little did I know that learning piano
first required 10 signatures and visiting four offices in three different buildings
across the campus on multiple occasions.
My dissent with the Registrar, however, is not necessarily that their
processes wasted my time and that of the university faculty and administration,
but that the process is so inefficient that it does not align with the values a
university should uphold.
I decided I wanted to take MUS071
Private Piano Study during the second week of add/drop. As required, I
collected the add/drop form from the Registrar and proceeded across campus
seeking three signatures. First I stopped in Zoellner where the instructor signed
my form and overload petition. I should also explain here that the reason I was
overloaded was only because of credits that accompanied a winter break study
abroad program, and not because I genuinely was taking on more than an
appropriate course load. Next stop, Rauch Business Center. I got the advisor’s
signature then proceeded to the associate dean’s office. The associate dean is understandably busy at the beginning of each semester, so I was told I would
receive an email once the associate dean got a chance to put down her
signature. The next day, I
returned to her office, picked up the signed form, and submitted it to the
registrar. Then it was time to wait for the decision by the Committee on the
Standing of Students (SOS).
I
did not hear back for another three and a half weeks, when I received an email from the
dean’s office. As to why I was informed of the decision 10 days after the
petition was seen by the committee on Feb. 8, I do not know. So, on Feb. 18, I
went to see the course instructor who told me there is no more capacity in the
course. Several days later, after noticing that the Bursar had already done me
the courtesy of billing me the extra $440 required to take the course that I’ve
never been to, I went to the registrar to be taken off the course list. I
described the situation about how I was unable to take the course due to it
being over capacity and that I needed to be officially taken out of it. What
does the lady at the registrar do? She hands me an add/drop form, along with a
Petition form that I will need to remove the “W” that will appear on my
transcript because my enrollment in the class is already “in the system.” What
is this notion of a supernatural system to which we grant authority? To the
registrar I say, YOU ARE THE SYSTEM. So when they say that another six signatures will be required to get out of the class I have
never been to, am not allowed to take, and was already billed for, from the
same people whose signatures I were required to get into the class three and a half weeks
prior, I politely questioned whether it was necessary since, in actuality,
I’m not even in the class. Why do
advisors, teachers, and deans need to approve something when doing otherwise
would be so utterly insensible?
The
quiet lady at the registrar replied saying that “this is the way our office
works,” which was actually the same filler line she used when I first submitted
the forms to the SOS Committee. If
people were content with “the way things are,” then nothing would ever
happen. Alumni would not be so
generous as to donate their hard-earned money which the university so actively
seeks out. I hope some of this
money will fund some administrative restructuring so that we do not have to
continue wasting our own time making sure our own students aren’t over-stepping
the university’s bounds. If the
benevolent SOS Committee approves my petition, it will be the 17th
signature in this process. I’m sure the administration would agree that they
have better things to be dealing with, which is probably why the committee only
meets every 2 weeks. It amazes me how unrefined this process is at such an old
institution. If the Registrar is really here to help students, I have yet to
see it done. It looks like I won’t be taking piano.
The new off campus restaurant will leave you feeling full and satisfied. Although Lehigh has several dining options, students living on campus can grow weary of having to eat at the dining halls for every meal. Upper Cort offers a food court style alternative to the traditional dining halls, but after countless trips, the variety seems less appealing. For those students looking for some new options and for fraternity and sorority members whose chefs don’t cook meals on weekends, venturing into Bethlehem is an attractive choice. There are always the classics like the Goose or Sal’s to get a good meal at. Yet, the line at the Goose is often out the door, and there may not always be time for a sit-down meal at Sal’s. New to the food scene at Lehigh, Full of Crepe offers a creative and quick alternative to standard fare in the form of delicious crepes served at an affordable price.
Full of Crepe is easy to miss, located on New Street between Subway and Sal’s. Once you get your first crepe here, though, you’ll never have trouble finding it again. The actual restaurant is no bigger than a dorm room, and there are only two hot plates on which the crepes can be made. The counter to place your order is located at the very front of the store near the entrance. Although it can be difficult, try not to stand too close to the entrance, or risk being whacked by the door as an incoming customer arrives. Despite the small size, there has not been a line once in all my visits; that must be a crime considering how delicious the crepes are. What is not a crime is how polite the staff is. Immediately upon entering, you are warmly greeted by the two to three workers. Every time I’ve gone, I have been offered coffee without any delay at all. Then, they patiently wait while you decide which crepe suits your tastes, even offering up some of their current favorites. I say “current favorites” because, as they explained to me, they love all their creations but cycle through favorites all the time. Prices for the crepes range from 4-8 dollars, depending on how complex your selection is. Once your order is placed, you watch as your crepe is assembled on a hot plate, cooked, and ultimately placed in a conveniently designed crepe holder. From walking in hungry to leaving happy, the process is smooth, quick, and pleasant.
Where Full of Crepe really shines, however, is in its interesting menu choices. The menu is diverse with both savory and sweet options. Whether you want a satisfying, meaty crepe or just a sweet treat, there is a crepe for everyone. Take my personal favorite, for example, the “Turkey Lurkee”. This crepe consists of turkey, spinach leaves, balsamic reduction, tomato, mozzarella cheese, and pesto mayo. The ingredients work perfectly together, sending your taste buds on a flavorful ride but also leaving you more fulfilled than any other old crepe. In a more odd combination, there is the “Christy Cristo” which consists of raspberry preserves, ham, turkey, Swiss cheese, maple syrup, and powdered sugar. Full of Crepe pushes the boundaries of this succulent crepe by adding raspberries and turkey to the traditional ingredients of a Monte Cristo, resulting in a fruity yet savory masterpiece. More traditionally yet just as deliciously, Full of Crepe serves the “Blue Plate,” a combination of eggs, cheese, and ham or bacon; the “Canuck,” simply bacon and maple syrup; or the “Moravian Sugar Cake,” consisting of brown sugar, cinnamon and butter. There’s no other restaurant that I can honestly say I want to try every item on the menu. However, if none of the menu choices are to your liking, there also is a “Fill Your Own” option. Additionally, the restaurant offers gluten-free batter for an extra dollar. With all of the appealing choices and the opportunity to customize your own crepe, you can’t go wrong.
Full of Crepe only allows takeout due to its small size. Plans are in place, however, to expand the building into an adjacent room in order to allow for in-restaurant seating. Also worth mentioning is that the restaurant only accepts cash at the moment. Taking the time to go to an ATM will be well worth it, though, once you’ve had a chance to experience this hidden gem’s food. If you are looking for a quick, delicious, affordable, and unique alternative to on and off campus dining, look no further than Full of Crepe.
