Words + Pictures

On The Ground

Our first few days here have taken some adjustment. A little more than a week ago we were living in rural Montana, where people spoke English, and where, when we woke up in the morning, we could usually say with some confidence what we would do that day.

For the past week we have been living in a city of nearly two million people, and very few of them speak English. We have found ourselves straining as we walk, craning our necks at the text on the many signs we pass, in search of something that we can make sense of. We are rusty on the few Mongolian words that we knew, and sound them out a syllable at a time, hoping for a flicker of recognition. But the words are not all that we have forgotten.

We are re-learning Mongolian money, the sound of Mongolian numbers, and remembering math in the tens of thousands of tugrugs. Having gotten used to Missoula drivers, we are remembering the skills needed to cross the street here. Finally, we are remembering the incongruent confluence of western material culture and traditional nomadic culture that is playing out everywhere you look. It's good to be back.