“Those were disgusting!!” Bree said, and I could feel her body shaking at the memory.
“But so fun!”
“And I still can’t believe we jumped off the roof into the pool,” Bree added, shaking her head in disbelief.
“That was sooo bad!” I agreed. I could never work up enough courage to try the blind, two-story-high, running jump over concrete before landing in the safety of our swimming pool. Just watching my best friend and sister do it made my heart pound.
After a moment of silence, Bree said, “Seriously, they will never forget those times.” And I had to agree. I was so caught up with money then, trying to keep up and still always feeling like I wasn’t good enough, but maybe I contributed something to the social mix after all.
We fell into silence as the sun set before us. I had watched it sink and disappear countless times. I often felt it was the only thing connecting me to the other side of the world. Even the hill I sat on wasn’t connected because of the massive oceans that separated us like parallel lines that never met. Whenever I saw the moon, as distant as it was, I knew that the sun had left to greet my friends in the morning. Sometimes I’d wish they could know I had sent it over.
“What are we gonna do without you here?” I remembered my friends saying days before I was to board the plane. “I just don’t believe it,” another had said. “What will Terri do without you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two apart.” Her twin brother, Tyee, had added, “You guys are inseparable.” I found that quite flattering, coming from someone who’d shared a womb with her.
I’d stayed the final two weeks at Terri’s, which made it easier for everyone. During those final days, my grandmother’s house was full with the rest of the family crashing on all available beds and couches once we’d moved out of our house. When stress and the fear of leaving kept me awake, I’d often sit up and watch Terri sleep, thinking about how very much I would miss her.
When Bree stood up to leave, I told her, “I’m just going to stay a little longer. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Suit yourself,” and she leapt over the rocks and down the steep, grassy hill. The rich oranges and reds reflected from the sky like fire, and I realized that one day, years from now, I’d probably be sitting at home reminiscing about this precious time I’d shared with my sister. Even now, watching her get smaller and smaller as she walked down the hill, I could actually feel her absence. I was alone. One day she won’t be there, either. She was right here by my side, like Terri always was, and just like her, she’ll be gone. I would miss her just as much as I missed Terri now if we were apart.
The setting sun still hugged the water, transforming it into what looked like a huge pool of orange juice. It would be pitch dark soon, but with only two lights shining below, I would find my way back as easily as a moth to a flame.
It was always hardest when night fell. In contrast to the eventful days, at night I often felt like a lost little girl (sometimes literally lost, but usually just emotionally), and I was lonely. I felt trapped within the group and by our remote surroundings and the lack of the kind of facilities I was used to. I needed my own room to escape to when my Gemini moods started swinging. And it was scary seeing only an endless road that led to who knew what. As hard as I tried, I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. But mostly, all this came down to a simple case of gut-wrenching, debilitating homesickness. It was initially harder than usual to clearly identify what it was because I’d always related homesickness with missing Mom, and she was right here.
But as I sat there enjoying the peaceful solitude, I gradually came to understand, perhaps for the first time, just how miniscule and positively young I really was. All of my demands and know-it-all attitude seemed to recede into the darkest corners of the lake, and my pathetic fifteen years on this earth seemed incredibly insignificant. But rather than feeling remorsefully unimportant, sincere gratitude and appreciation washed over me, and I finally pushed through that barrier of stubbornness I’d always carried to see a new reality, one where I was unbelievably blessed by all the wonderful, positive things in my life. It was more than just an abstract concept, as if all the colours of the spectrum simultaneously blended into a white light that burst through my soul. I felt as pure as the crystal waters below, and I knew that, despite my age, my inexperience, and the minimal impact I had made on the world thus far, I would no longer be able to resist or ignore this new comprehension of my place in it.
After just two short months of travel, I felt a huge shift occurring. I’d already become a different and, in some respects, a better person. I was learning how to be in the world without portraying myself as someone with a seemingly callous nature, or hiding behind the protective laughter and constant jokes I’d always felt I needed. It was like looking directly into my soul, and I saw more of my potential. I was calm and serious, in a state as close to meditation as I’d ever been. There was no one from whom I needed to hide my emotions and no need to be on guard as a welcome maturity seemed to slide down into my chest like molten lava and find a place to settle. Was it there to stay?
Chapter 34: Recharge
When I walked into the grungy hostel in Ulaanbaatar the second time, I welcomed the sight of the dark dorm room with its twenty unwashed beds. I was even excited by the tiny drizzle of a shower located down the unlit hallway in the back. It somehow didn’t seem so dreary anymore. I saw a half-naked brunette guy, probably in his early twenties, sweating in the bed that had once been mine. Ammon’s former bed was not occupied so he promptly reclaimed it. The little yellow post-it notes Sandra had given us, each marked with a date and a smiley face, were still stuck to the wall from when Ammon had pulled that day’s note off and stuck it near wherever he was sleeping. Nothing had changed; the place not only felt dirty, it was dirty. Even the air felt like the same stale air I’d breathed two weeks earlier. As I threw my daypack on a bed to claim it, I peeked at the guy sleeping in my old one and wondered who else had slept in this bed? Had he been fat? Hairy, perhaps? I wiped the sheets down, keeping an eye out for curly back hairs, in particular.
But despite the filth and wondering why we couldn’t afford a more luxurious hotel for $5 a night, it had a cozy, home-like effect on me. It was a familiar place, something I recognized, and I found myself craving that feeling more often lately. Plus, I knew exactly where and how to get on the Internet here.
I was disappointed when I opened up my email to find only four new messages. Two whole weeks, and that’s all I got? My heart sank as I glanced over at the sixteen Bree had in her inbox.
I opened my inbox and read a short one from Terri telling me that nothing much was going on, but I didn’t believe her. How could she say that? She at least has a comfy bed and a hot shower. She has the whole world at her feet! I couldn’t help but feel stressed over her choice of friends since I’d left. She had started to hang out with the partying type, and I was worried, threatened, and perhaps even a bit jealous.
There was one piece of junk mail, which I hate as much as the next person, and another was an informative one from Grandma about home that asked lots of questions. My heart fluttered when I saw that the last one was from Grady, particularly when I glanced over to Bree’s screen and saw that she had not received one from him. I couldn’t believe he’d written and it made me blush. He was her friend, after all. My smile widened as I considered reasons why he might have written to me.
It was also really nice to finally be able to check the blog again and read the comments, since it had been blocked in China. There were a few more there which also cheered me up.
**hey family!!!
omg it sounds like
you guys are having a
blast:(...i'm sooo jealous:(...
I wish i was with you guys....
i miss you guys tons
luv your sis/daughter
Terri
I’ve missed you guys.
I wish I could see you
when we land in C
herry
Point, it sounds like there’s
going to be a lot of people
waiting. Please be safe but
have fun. I love you, Sky
savannah i miss u like crazy!!!!
well i miss the whole family!!!
mom i need u!!!
luv your sis/daughter
Terri**
I did feel a degree of guilt and sadness, knowing how important we were in her life. After we left I was afraid she might feel as if she’d been neglected for the second time, since Terri and her twin brother had already been abandoned by their mother as infants. This had left her father a very busy single parent trying to juggle the needs of three kids under the age of four along with his crazy emergency room schedule. They were raised by this glorious man who, to the best of his ability, covered all the parental roles imaginable. Not wanting to ditch Terri we had initially invited her to join us on our one year excursion. Her dad had actually considered the invitation but decided against it on the basis of school being a priority. I often dreamed of what it would’ve been like if she had come but I knew her dad had a valid argument.
I finally managed to get onto Microsoft Network (MSN) and have a live chat, which was very exciting. I started up a conversation with a guy from school, Tony, though I honestly couldn’t recall how I’d got him on my contact list. He was someone I had never really talked to, likely because he was more popular than me. When he said I was the luckiest person he’d ever known, I was amazed that my own peers, even guys I never had the courage to talk to, were not only acknowledging my presence but complimenting me because of this trip! I couldn’t believe it.
I worked up a sweat just sitting in the small, stuffy Internet hut for an hour, so I took a cold shower and then sat quietly with my thoughts.
“Don’t get too comfy, Savannah. We’re only staying three days for the festival, then we’re out of here,” Ammon said when he saw me grinning. Though I was happy to be clean again and comforted a bit by being in a familiar place, it was the thought of Grady’s email that accounted for the smile on my face.
The next morning, Baagii joined us as we headed out to watch the Naadam Festival’s opening ceremonies that included horses, ballroom dancing, and rap music. Sukhbaatar Square was full of onlookers as nine men, dressed in dazzling red and blue, super-hero-looking outfits and holding sacred horse tails, assembled in front of their horses and then mounted to parade around the city.
Bree managed to trip over someone in the commotion and Baagii rushed over and gave her a strange look.
“What?!” she asked.
“You have to shake his hand!” he said, turning her so she faced the man waiting patiently behind her.
“What do you mean?”
As he led her by the elbow, he explained quietly in her ear, “It is custom. If you kick someone’s foot you have to shake their hand.”
“Okay!” She laughed and did as she was told. “If I had known that, I’d have kicked yours ages ago!” That lame comment started them both giggling away.
Suddenly I saw two familiar faces in the crowd. “Hey, there’s Tom and Sarah!” I said, pointing.
“Oh, hey! Small world,” Tom greeted us. You can’t imagine how cool it feels to be in a totally different country and bump into people you know, just like you might casually run into a neighbour at a mall back home.
“There’s a guy who just got robbed. You should watch your stuff,” they informed us.
“Yah, we heard some similar stories at our hostel,” Ammon responded. At that time, Ammon had told us that it shouldn’t change our opinion of the local people, that thieves are drawn to crowds anywhere in the world and every country has them. Mom reminded us that although our larger group would discourage theft, we still needed to stick together and watch each other’s backs. The camera strap was always wrapped safely around one of our wrists.
As if the world isn’t bad enough with people killing each other! Ammon seemed to read my mind and asked, “Hey, did you guys read about the bombs?”
“Bombs?!” Tom repeated, a bit stunned.
“Yah. A bunch exploded in the U.K. this week,” Ammon confirmed with a remorseful nod.
“What? No! What happened? Was anyone hurt? Where did it happen?”
“On subways across the city and on a bus in Tavistock Square in London. A bunch of people died, about fifty or so. They’re saying it was a terrorist attack.” Ammon had read about it that morning on the Internet and told us, but it didn’t affect me until I saw the shaken look on Tom’s face.
“My sister takes that train to work every day! I have to get on the Web. Is there a place nearby? You guys enjoy the festival. We’ve gotta go check and see if everyone at home is alright!” Without waiting for a response, they rushed off.
International news stories were normally too distant to affect me, but seeing someone’s personal reaction firsthand really hit home. It became much more real to me when I saw how directly he was affected by having family and friends to worry about. This was more than just headlines above photos; my desensitized emotions, which could hardly distinguish between “fake action movie” and reality, were newly awakened and I developed a whole new perspective.
It was hot when we arrived at the National Sports Stadium where the rest of the three-day festival was held. From the bleachers, we watched archery, wrestling, and horse-racing competitions. The wrestlers wore Speedo-like blue “underwear” and tiny red jackets, which essentially were just sleeves that left their chests fully exposed. The winner of each round performed a traditional, birdlike victory dance, prancing in circles with outstretched arms slowly flapping. The whole celebration passed as if in a dream and did not move me, perhaps because my mind was simply somewhere else again.
“Do you guys know why they have those outfits? With the tiny vests?” Ammon asked.
“Because they have to wear the first jacket they ever trained in?” Bree guessed.
“Not quite, Bree. But I know you’ll love the answer. One year a woman won, but women aren’t allowed to compete, so now, they bare their chests to make sure they are all men.”
“I thought that’s what the tiny little Speedos were for,” Bree quipped as my mind wandered off again. I can’t believe Grady wrote me. --- “just like sumo wrestlers” --- Does he finally see me as something more than just “the little sister?”
“Savannah, are you here at all? This is the biggest yearly festival in Mongolia! Why aren’t you paying attention?” Ammon urged.
“I am! I heard the bums hanging out part!” I said defensively.
“That was Bree’s contribution, and it was pretty useless, as usual. Did you hear what the nine sacred tails are all about?”
“Nope, missed that. Please tell me,” I replied. I wonder if he misses me. He SAID he missed me, but is that just being nice? I can’t believe he wrote me. ME! Does that mean he cares? Or is he just being polite? But he didn’t write Bree. That must mean he really does want to talk to me.
When we’d changed schools a few years back, Grady had quickly become Bree’s best guy friend. I vividly remembered the day she’d called upstairs to me, “Savannah, come down here! You’ve gotta talk to my buddy. He’s so freaking funny!”
“I’m busy!!” I’d foolishly yelled back.
She came up at that point, took me by the wrist and said, “You can do that later. C’mon!”
I was a goner the moment I heard his voice on the phone. A strange, vague vision washed over me and I thought to myself, “I will marry him.” I didn’t know what he looked like. In fact, I knew nothing about him except that his name was Grady and that I loved him. When I saw him for the first time with his zits, crooked teeth, and big, wild hair, none of it mattered because, well, I was already hooked. I was twelve years old then, and at fifteen, my feelings hadn’t changed. But how to make him see?! All my sibling’s friends treated me like a bratty little sister – everyone but Grady, who made me feel like an equal.
On top of
this, I couldn’t believe that Tony, who I considered to be way out of my league socially, had said he was jealous of MY life!! Life was good!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day Bree returned to the hostel after spending time with Baagii and informed us that he was unable to get time off to come with us on the next adventure. She was, of course, sorely disappointed by this news. I found myself actually having mixed feelings. I had come to appreciate Baagii in the two weeks we’d all spent together touring the countryside, but I did like the idea of having my sister to myself again.
Fortunately, he had managed to arrange our next trip. That evening, a man with a big friendly smile stumbled out of a little silver minivan, and Baagii introduced Future, saying, “This is my good friend and your new driver! He is going with you to the Gobi Desert!”
Chapter 35: Sand Traps and Good Samaritans
“What? You do not trust me?” Future asked as Ammon buckled his seatbelt in the front passenger seat. Oh yah, right, I thought, as I slowly released my own, remembering Baagii’s warning on the previous trip that in Mongolia, wearing a seatbelt is an insult to the driver. I hadn’t really worn one since we left home; in fact, I’d hardy even seen one.
When we met Future, he’d invited us to come to his little apartment in the city. He was an affable guy, clean shaven and just a few years older than Ammon. He was larger in breadth and height than the average Mongol, who was, on average, a bit taller than the average Chinese.
“You are my first foreign guests ever in my house,” he’d proudly announced, and we happily toasted that statement with either “Cheers!” or “Togtooyo!” That honour did nothing to calm my nerves about the journey we were about to take, but on the strength of Baagii’s recommendation, we’d set off together into the Gobi Desert two days later.
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