once said: “I want a woman who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.” I love that quote because it’s also what I look for, in people, friends, boyfriends, whatever. And I fully envision this little girl growing up to be that kind of woman. Also, what the fuck is a mukluk.
October has been an eventful and illuminating month. As much as I hate goodbyes, I have a feeling something better is coming. I feel like this is a necessary sentiment for happiness. This was the last view of one of our Gobi ger camps; I had to repeat this nugget of wisdom over and over in my head lest I burst into tears. This Squeaky Robot is very, very human.
Wisdom is blind to age, wealth, location, upbringing, and social class. Not everyone can be wise, but profound insight can come from anyone. He would walk around the steppe with his small, weathered hands locked behind his back, and look off into the distance with a furrowed brow and an expression that made apparent that heavy matters were on his mind. Maybe he wondered where the flock was at that moment. Or how to quell his sister’s incessant sobbing. Whatever it was, it was clear this boy didn’t inherit his older brothers’ love for soccer. This young sage adopted his father’s hardened stoicism, and it seemed like he was burdened with something that was not his, anxieties that no child should have to bare.…
I am incredibly grateful that I made the decision to traverse the shithole that is Russia. For one, I ended up in Mongolia. And while I may have voluntarily traded in sand for concrete, skies for smog, tsuivan for mac&cheese, gers for beds with Ikea sheets, and camels for Ethiopian taxi drivers, this decision is a temporary one, and I will have Gobi earth between my toes before I know it. I say I’m in the States voluntarily because there is always a choice. And then again there’s a million other places I’d rather be, but if you’re never content with where you are, you’ll never be content.
a Mongolian sunset. PONIES. an intense game of jump rope. a fucking Mongolian sunset. thunderstorms, walls of rain, and having nothing to do but to drink vodka with friends in a warm ger. the wind on your back.
Going camping in Shenandoah. No Mongolia, but it will suffice.
OK I AM SUPER LAME OK?? This photo only begins to communicate why I can go on a ridiculously – no – unhealthily long tangent about how peeing in Mongolia is the greatest thing ever. In fact, as soon as I begin to rattle off the list, I’ve been known to clear a room. Too bad I can’t take a hint. So peeing in Mongolia is better than driving on an empty highway at night. It’s better than the smell of wood burning in winter. Better than morning tea or coffee. Better than when you check out an item and the price that appears is cheaper than the retail price. Better than reading the last page of a book really slowly because you don’t…
The End. Nothing quite describes the feeling of a good thing ending. For me, at least. The words just never materialize. Our last precious moments in Kathmandu have been spent trudging around Thamel, soaking in every stimulus Nepal’s streets have to offer, most of which is mud and tiger balm salesmen. I resolved to get a sleeve of henna done, and I asked around as to where I could make this happen. An eager, helpful man led me to a tattoo parlour even though the last thing I would do is draw salty tears from my mother’s beautiful eyes by getting inked in the third world, or any world for that matter. We also met up with our friends from Colorado and Australia, at…