What I noticed first were the hands. Heavy, no-nonsense, working hands. Hands that lift and carry and squeeze. Okay, I might be exaggerating a little and even flirting with political incorrectness, but it’s what I remember. As we moved…
Browsing Tag
Mongolia
As far as I could tell, eating in rural Mongolia was not a long, drawn out undertaking with themed napkins and brightly painted ceramic kitchenware. It was often mono-utensil, mono-dish and mono-flavor, but always filling and efficient. After barely a…