Going

The ride out was full of things to see- yaks along the river, sweeping mountains one after the other, rock walls, gers, stone cabins and outbuildings, adobe blocks drying in the sun, and once when we met and passed a truck, Daulet stopped suddenly and got out to talk and smoke with the driver of the truck- his 'family' he said.

These guys flagged us down to get some petrol. There were quite a few trucks loaded down like this- grass/hay for winter fodder being collected.

We saw a lot of families on the move-this time of year many families either return to town (and may live in a house or a ger in town), or move to winter pasture lands. This one was only the truck, but a lot had herds of animals along with the truck

We stopped first in Tsengel, to drop off  Daulet's family at home. I got lunch with the family, the first of several experiences like that. When it was time for Daulet's son to go to school, I got to go along. People sort of stared, but I followed close behind Grandma. People stopped her often to shake her hand, greet her, and comment on her grandson just now starting school. I couldn't understand the words, but it wasn't hard to get the gist.

And then we drove endlessly.We drove for hours in absolute silence other than the radio, because Daulet's English is very limited, mostly centered around things related to his work as a driver for tours. I would ask him something, or even make a noise in amazement, and this would start a spiral of misunderstanding that left us both dissatisfied. So I started having conversations in my head instead.

Around 3 pm we reached the vicinity of Khurgan Nuur (lake), and it was there the rain caught up with us. It was about then that I realized what I'd gotten myself in for and started to panic just a little. But we were far from Kansas, dear Dorothy, so I must soldier on. Still, I began to dread arrival at the ger.