More Quiet Time at Toilogt Camp

I'm still at Toilogt Camp; and I happen to be the only tourist here. I'm sitting beside a fire in the restaurant, wishing that the sun would poke through the clouds. Through the warped Chinese glass, I can see the white peaks on Lake Khovsgol. It's strange how the color of the lake changes based on the weather. On gray days, the lake takes on a dark gray color; it looks like any body of water back home. Under blue skies, I understand where the lake gets it's name - it's azure as far as the eye can see. I was expecting a land of green; instead my eyes are examining a palette of yellow and orange. The coniferous trees are trying out; the grasses on the steppe have already dried and become brittle. When I return home at the end of my trip, the local plants will begin to die as the landscape continues to frost, in waves of hot & cold, as rhythmic as waves lapping the shore.

On 9/15, Olongerel (my guide), Nansa (Toilogt Camp manager), and I hiked Mt. Hysaa, which is a mountain 10km north of our camp. The hike took about 2.5 hours to reach the summit; and we were rewarded with incredible views of the lake, as well as sweeping vistas of mountains to the west. At the summit, the wind was howling across the rock & scrub but the intensity of the sun kept me warm.

The summit of Mt. Hysaa

I spent the day yesterday visiting a shamanistic place of worship, and I also paddled a kayak around Lake Toilogt for an hour. I think that I'm beginning to learn to slow my pace of life. I don't have any other options; maybe that's why I'm submitting. This has been a marathon of leisure. As much as I may complain about being bored, I am thoroughly enjoying the solitude of Northern Mongolia. There are no vehicles at the camp; I cannot leave unless I set off on foot or by horse. This situation stands in stark contrast to the 2 cars, motorcycle, and 2 bicycles that I have in my garage at home. I do not hear any traffic; I don't hear the faint whir of air conditioning or forced-air heating. I heard a bird fly overhead yesterday; the flffft flffft sound of its wings arcing overhead. I've obviously seen birds fly, but I have never heard them - the experience was amazing.

After the staff completes their chores for the day, they spend the remainder of the day talking. Nothing special, just sitting and talking. I'm jealous of all this conversation, I desire more in my life. My generation is forgetting about personal communication. I do not mean that westerners don't communicate, because I think that computers have exponentially increase the frequency of communication. This is different - I can't describe it, but it seems wholly more satisfying. In the US, we are constantly being entertained, and have various forms of pleasure. I've never thought about this need for entertainment in a personal context - I've always considered myself less needy than those around me. However, since I am removed from my environment, I now realize how I embody all of the traits that I dislike about western culture. The frequency of electronic communication with my friends has increased, while the time spent with one another has been consistently decreasing.

I spent the last two hours reading through my Mongolian phrasebook with Tiitsge; a 19 yr old girl that works at the camp. I never knew that one of my phrasebooks would be so fun. We basically went through the book chapter by chapter, with her helping me with the pronunciation. I was trying to teach her the English equivalent, but she wasn't having it. Tiitsge had a look of enthrallment on her face, and I was having fun with the experience - this memory will stick with me for awhile.