Afterthoughts

I've been back home for three weeks, although I've been travelling on business for two of those weeks. When I look back at my memories of Mongolia, I'm joyed that I had the opportunity to visit the country. When I told my friends & family where I was going, my statement was often met with questions about where Mongolia was. The second question was: why would I want to go there?

I wanted to go for several reasons. I wanted to escape the hectic work routine for awhile, and I wanted to get away from western culture. My second reason for going was the people; Mongolians are one of the few cultures on Earth that have a pastoral/nomadic lifestyle. I was curious about how they lived, and I wanted to experience it for myself, no matter how uncomfortable it may have been. My first expectation was fulfilled as soon as the plane lifted off the ground in Chicago. I spent almost three weeks without a mobile phone, and I only used the computer to let everyone know that I had arrived safely. I had time to reflect back on my life, and ask myself questions about what I value and where my life was headed. While those questions will never end, I feel that I've made additional progress on sorting the answers.

My second expectation was completely fulfilled. What I found in Mongolia was the most hospitable people that I've ever met. When we visited the local families, we walked right into their ger. You do not knock - you walk in and sit on the ground. They serve you milk and food, sometimes before the conversation even starts. The people who are better off are making about $100USD/month, yet they never hesitate to give you whatever food/drink they have. This isn't limited to visitors, but also travellers - people help one another when their vehicles are broke down on the side of the road - we gave away gas, anti-freeze, and even borrowed someone a tire throughout our trip across the countryside. This culture of giving makes you feel secure - someone will always be there to help you. This fiercely contrasts to my lifestyle back in the US. If a car is broke down on the side of the highway, the last thing that we do is to stop. They could be a kidnapper, or we just don't feel like stopping because we have someplace to go and we're already behind schedule. Who has a better quality of life - the Americans or people in other countries? I'm guilty of the same situation that I describe above. And while I doubt I'm going to change, I do think more about it.