Reflections on the 2nd Month

We’ve spent this whole 2nd month in Mongolia.  It may seem rather on the dull side, one country, not the most cosmopolitan of one either, but I think we’ve grown inward more than outward this month. 

Mongolia, despite its rapid modernization, is not a place built for tourists, so we’ve had to depend even more on each other than before to counteract our increasing isolation.  It’s interesting to see how language, or a lack of a common language, can create barriers much higher than differing cultures or looks.  How can we ask for help if no one understands?  How can we even do a price check on a loaf of bread, if all I can do is hold up the loaf of bread and make questioning noises?  Our pointing has become more eloquent and we’ve grown to appreciate the many nuances hand motions can convey, but there are still information we can’t transmit or receive because we don’t have the right words for it.  And it’s so frustrating.  I’m sure it’s even more frustrating for those who desire to help us but can’t. 

Then, we both caught the flu, first me, then Rick in rapid succession.  Though we’re satisfied with travelling, nothing makes a person homesick more than when struck down by the frailty of the human body.  It’s humbling being in a foreign country and feeling a general miasma of nasty surrounding me, of weakness and not-good so strong tears spring to my eyes.  Then waking up to Rick with his hand on my forehead, his gentle caring and carefulness with me.  It gives me a new appreciation of the phrase "in sickness and in health."  This renewed sense of partnership has continued throughout this whole month.  I find it is the tough times, the times of isolation, those moments where there is absolutely no one else to rely on, that the true strength of the relationship is exposed, like a rich vein of gold in the midst of an otherwise bland sort of rock. 

Besides, it’s not just the obstacles we face that cement us together, it’s also our common experiences.  Nothing beats standing hand-in-hand, goosebumps standing up on our arms, staring up at the white wash of the Milky Way streaming through a night-time sky brilliant with an infinite number of bright pinpricks.  Or laughing as we both wrestle an overgrown overenthusiastic puppy.  Or that shared exhalation of breath as we reach the crest of a hill together after an hour-long hike.  That sense of NOW and PRESENT we both become aware of that no photo or National Geographic special can convey, that we may never once again stand in the same spot or see the same thing.  Maybe there aren’t as many lessons to be learned here as last month, but the few we’ve absorbed this month are perhaps a bit more precious to me.