October 1, 2008 by Karin.

The house we were building seemed like a pretty standard example of a Mongolian house unequiped with running water. So what do Mongolians do to clean themselves off?

We found out at the lake near our hotel.

The night before, Carol’s Mongolian friends working at the hotel had taken us on a 20 minute walk through pitch darkness to the rushing river. Even in the dark, we could tell it was something special (the graffiti in cyrillic inside the dam was a part of it). So after our second day of build, we took a small group of our friends to check out the lake in daylight. We took off our shoes and waded into the rushing river. To this day, I still recall the sensation of the cold, round stones under my feet and can of coke in my hand…oh the joy of simple pleasures.

We walked further and found the that the river opened up and we were not the only ones enjoying the water. A herd of horses slowly walked in on their skinny legs and had a drink together. Mongolian families and teenagers in the water, up to their necks. As I was taking off my sandals, I spotted a bar of soap forgotten in the grass. Steve offered to look after our cameras while the rest of us walked into the river up to our waists. I rubbed my hands over my cargo pants, happy that I was getting the sticky dirt and cement dust off and only a little worried about soaking the only pair of pants I had brought on the trip. The clouds above our heads passed and the sun returned to give us another moment of its golden hour.

Rich suddenly remarked, “The only thing that could make this moment any better is if a horseman rode up over the steppes of the horizon and oh there he is now!”

The spontaneity and beauty of the moment was what made that trip to the river one of the most magical memories of the trip for me.

 We were totally charmed by this little girl enjoying the river in her underpants. We tried to get her to smile for our cameras but she just turned away, unimpressed.

 Later, her family packed up and we watched her walk away, her unzipped ballet tutu falling off her shoulder.

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October 1, 2008 by Karin.

When I think back to that second day of build, I think “scaffolding.” Who in their right mind would agree to be suspended one meter in the air on a bendy piece of wood held up by two piles of cement blocks? I certainly wouldn’t want to stand on any scaffolding that I had a hand in building.

And yet, it worked out.

Another memorable thing happened when I was occupying myself by refilling the plates of mortar for the more active builders. Tseveen, our construction boss came up to me with a naughty smile. He gestured that I should follow him, even held onto my sleeve as he led me out the door. There was more than one raised eyebrow at this unexpectedly affectionate gesture from the usually stoic Tseveen.

He deposited me by the newly arrived truck…full of bricks. It was clear in that instant that Tseveen hadn’t just singled me out, but he had gathered a few of us girls. What made him think that our valuable house building labor could be sacrificed to unload a few bricks!?

There was no point in dwelling on that. The truth was, it was flattering to be thought of at all…and I will forever hold onto that memory of his cement covered work gloves pulling on my dusty little sleeve.

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