"If I'm bound or gagged. If I'm lost or losing. I might want to leave from here. Until then, I'll still be cruising, high above the atmosphere."

Saturday morning, my eyes shot open at the familiar but unrelenting sound. Shuffling, wood trying against metal. Someone was continuously pulling on my ger's door handle, impervious to the fact that it was locked. I rolled out of bed with a groan, pulling on pants as I hobbled towards the door, shouting "Hen be?" (Who is it?). No sooner did I release the latch then Shijirbaatar burst through the threshold into my ger. Ignoring my "frazzled and just abruptly awakened state" he fired off into a monologue. "Justin, will you help me?" "My brother is sick, I need to herd his goats." "There are many goats, with one person it is difficult." I pondered this, I was sick myself, looking forward to a weekend of recuperation and spending little time outside in the subzero temperatures. I have found that it is often hard to say "no" in Mongolia when someone asks for help, and I often never regret the decision. "Yes, I'll help you." I exclaim as I quickly get myself ready to go. Reaching for my winter jacket he stops me, "No, it is cold outside." Without saying anything I begin wrapping myself in my Mongolian deel, he nods in approval and instructs me to bring my camera. "The countryside is pretty today" he adds, and with that we trudge out towards the edge of town.

We entered a large hashaa filled with goats and a small ger. Shijirbaatar brought me inside where I was greeted with the sight of a man laying in bed, much older looking then his younger brother and at our entrance he scrambled to get up, jostling over to the kitchen area to make us tea. "How are you feeling?" I asked as we sat down and I was handed a hot bowl of milk tea. "Alright", he answered "I just need rest" he exclaimed stifling a cough. After being introduced by Shijirbaatar the man nodded his thanks and finished our tea and back outside into the January morning. I opened the gate while Shijirbaatar funneled the goats through the opening waving a stick and hollering. We were soon joined by Shijirbaatar's friend and fellow school coworker, "I heard your brother is sick, I came to help." As we walked out away from the town Shijirbaatar handed me a handful of bread nuggets. "Show them these" he explained "and they will follow you." He demonstrated holding a nugget out in his hand and the goats immediately clustered around him, none attempting to stray off or run out into the steppe. I followed his example and was soon engulfed by goats all rustling against each other standing on hind legs and using my body for leverage as they strained to reach the bready prize in my hand. After we had lured the goats far enough from the town and our nuggets had been expended we stood and relaxed while they grazed from the tall steppe grass that had somehow managed to poke its way up through the snow.

As we stood a man on a small white horse rode up from a nearby herd of cows and beckoned us good morning. After conversing with Shijirbaatar he climbed down from the saddle-less steed and instructed me to get on the horse. "You can ride my horse" he said with a gesture towards his mount. So with a boost from Shijirbaatar, I climbed atop and expecting a pony ride waited for him to grab the reins to lead me around. Instead Shijirbaatar gave the horse a light pat on the rump and it began walking along leaving me as the sole driver and briefly terrified. My last horse riding experience having been many moons ago on a family vacation to Yosemite I was not exactly comfortable on the beast. After nervously trotting about I managed to steer the horse back to Shijirbaatar where he promptly made me pose for a "Mongolian picture" before stepping down from the animal. Relinquishing the horse back to its owner the herder said goodbye and with one fluid motion was back atop his horse and galloping off towards his cattle.

It was quiet, I gazed out at the steppe, the mountains, and the sky, never ceasing to be amazed by the expansivness of it all. Goats grazed around me, a horse brayed in the distance, the sun gleamed off the snow. It was so meditational, so peaceful, a landscape that always makes me feel happy and content. Shijirbaatar broke the silence, "Lunch time." With that we circled around the herd and led them back towards the hashaa. When the last goat cleared the gate Shijirbaatar patted me on the back, "Mash ikh bayarlalaa, Justin."(Thank you very much, Justin) He repeated this several times, thanking me again and again for my help. I shook his hand and thanked him instead. He gave me a confused look. I could only laugh. He had done so much more for me that day then I had done for him.

"I like the summers, I like the winters. Here I will settle me down. I'll spend my days here, the rest of my days here. Here I will watch the world go 'round."

Flashback: Omnodelger, October

The 14th to be exact. I was kneeling beside my wooden table looking for something to watch on my computer, getting ready to settle in for the evening. In between the quiet clicking of my mouse I heard another noise, footfalls. I cringed in anticipation, seconds before the shuddering noise of my wooden door gave way through its wooden frame. It was Dakraa. "Come on Justin, lets go!" He waved out into the night not stepping from my door's mat. With no heads up to this beckoning, I sat on the floor shirtless, in a messy ger, obviously not prepared to go anywhere. "Where?" was all I could seem to muster. "House party, come on, lets go!" So I threw on a shirt, my jacket, locked up my ger and we crossed through my hashaa gate. I sat shotgun in a SUV I didn't recognize, and knowing Dakraa's own vehicle sat in our yard crippled on three tires I asked, "Whose car is this?" He winked at me, "School director's" then spun the wheel and jammed the gas and we accelerated down the dirt road towards a house well lit, with cars, motorcycles and horses tied up outside.

The party was already in full swing and it didn't take me long to put the pieces together as Dakraa handed Enkhbaatar, my school director his keys back. Dakraa had not in fact committed grand theft auto but had been sent to fetch me. The house was teeming with people and tables laden with every Mongolian delicacy I knew. It was more like three separate parties, as not all the people could fit in any of the houses three tiny rooms, so tables were set up in each. So I sat down beside my schools computer teacher and one of my counterparts and servings of food and tea were given to me. My counterpart quickly explained to me that this just wasn't any house party. It was a party literally to celebrate the building of a new house. When a family moves from their ger to a wooden house, the community celebrates this accomplishment with a big congratulatory ceremony.

So we ate, and ate, and ate. Eventually the man of the house came around passing out shot glasses, and began pouring shot after vodka shot. Clink, we toasted to happiness. Clink, we toasted to the family's home. Clink, we toasted to the school. Clink, we toasted to the director. Clink, we toasted to Omnodelger. This went on for quite some time, with the host making sure everyone had finished their shot before he poured the next. Then everyone began to sing. Traditional and modern Mongolian songs echoed off of the house's new walls. Eventually it turned into a competition between the three rooms. Each picking a song and belting it out as loud as they could to see if the room after theirs could match in volume and enthusiasm. The competition ended with forgotten words and lots of laughter. Next an ornate silver bowl was brought out filled with airag, the traditional Mongolian alcoholic drink of fermented mares milk. It was passed around the room the receiver having to stand up, take a sip from the bowl then lead the room in song. When the bowl was finally handed to me I nervously stood up. My school's training manager sensed my hesitation and exclaimed, "To Justin's new ger!" They all cheered and with a clink toasted and downed another shot. Touched that they were recognizing my new home as part of the celebration I mustered the Mongolian and confidence I had, took a sour faced sip of airag and lead them in singing "Ayani Shuwuud", the Mongolian tune I helped perform at our swearing in ceremony. Hours went by and the revelry continued, finally everyone suddenly stood up and began gathering their coats and things. I got out of my seat, stretching my arms and blinking my tired eyes. This was when I learned the next stipulation to the housing ceremony tradition. October 14th was the traditional day to hold your housing ceremony. Throwing the celebration on this day ensures future good fortune and prosperity in your new home. As a result this wasn't the only family who had recently finished a home....

I repeated this party scenario three more times that evening. More food, more drinking, more vodka, more singing. By 2am I was finally dropped off at my ger. I was stuffed, drunk, and exhausted, but the revelry had made me feel like a new part of the community, like I would really grow to love Omnodelger and its people. My fears of being alone wouldn't seem bad at all with a new place to call home. I lay my head on my pillow and drifted off to sleep, with laughter and the clinking of glass ringing in my ears.

"Wandering and wandering. What place to rest the search. The mighty arms of Atlas, hold the heavens from the earth."

I spread the three cards out on my table for Dakraa's brother to see. Two jokers and the ace of clubs. Half amused in being defeated a third time he gave me a smirk. "If you win again I will give you something," he exclaimed patting his jacket pocket. With new incentive, I dealt the cards again excited for the prospect of a reward and the fact that I found something I could actually beat Mongolians at. Ten minutes later, I once again placed down my last three cards signifying I had won the game. He only chuckled to himself then let out a sigh, placing down the generous amount of cards he still held in his hand and reached into his pocket. He slapped the object on my table, covering it with his palm, almost to build suspense he held it concealed for several seconds before relinquishing his hand. There sat a bone, but not just any bone, a tooth, but not just any tooth, a canine, a fang, long white and curved that looked to be bigger then my middle finger. "Chono,"(Wolf) he murmured to me as I sat staring at the huge fang. "I killed it," he added, miming firing a rifle. He pointed towards the chain I wore around my neck which holds my St. Christopher medal. He gestured for me to put it on the chain, pointing towards the small hole he bored at the top of the fang. I took off my necklace to attach the tooth when he noticed St. Christopher. "Ter yu we? Jesus uu?"(What is that? Jesus?) he asked. With the help of my dictionary I explained that St. Christopher was not Jesus, but a saint who protected travelers. With my new charm hanging next to my medal, I turned the fang over in my hand feeling its new weight around my neck. "Will this protect me too?" I asked. He let out a small laugh, "No, no, it will give you strength." Knowing the shamanist ties still prevalent in Mongolia, animals such as horses, wolves, and eagles are held in high esteem. As I pondered this he added,

"If you are strong, you do not need protection."

Three days later: New Years Eve

It was a Saturday morning, I was looking forward to a lazy day of relaxing and doing minimal ger chores when Dakraa burst into my ger. "Justin!" he greeted me excitedly, "Lets go, we are going to the countryside." The word "hudoo" or "countryside" when spoken by people living in cities, usually refers to places like my town, when spoken by people living in places like my town, "hudoo" means places where people don't exist. When I asked why, he rambled in lighting fast Mongolian, able to only catch a couple words I tried piecing them together, "Chono"(wolf) and "khon" (sheep) and "buu" (gun). After asking him to repeat more slowly I got the whole story, a wolf had harassed a herders sheep in the night, now we must go hunt it. Now as excitable as Dakraa I grabbed for my winter jacket when he stopped me, "No" he said, "it will be cold, wear your deel." Putting on the traditional Mongolian garb, I grabbed my hat and gloves and then clamored into a Russian jeep with six other men, armed to the teeth with weapons that you'd have a lot of explaining to do if you were carrying them around in America. We drove out towards the Khentii mountains, Dakraa outlined the peaks with his finger as we drove along, explaining which ones we would check for the wolf at. The sheep herder sat in the front seat, his chatter not betraying the obvious anxiety he felt, "Whose cows are these?" he asked as we passed a herd. "No one is watching them."

Finally as we winded through the valleys along the mammoth bases of the mountains, me and Dakraa were let off. He grabbed his rifle and we started heading for the base of a rocky mountain with scattered trees. We hadn't gotten far when he crouched down to examine tracks in the snow. "Chono", he said. We followed them until we were amongst the rocks and trees, finally Dakraa turned to me and said, "Now, we sit and wait." So we sat and waited, I took in my surroundings, the trees, the rocky summits, the endless blue sky, the untarnished snow drifts all of this encompassed by total silence, not even a bird chirped. After a while, Dakraa stamped out a cigarette, "See anything?" he asked. I shook my head. So we trudged out away from the mountain just in time to see the jeep come speeding back.

Loading ourselves back in we picked up more of the other hunters who were scouting around other parts of our mountain and drove off towards another peak. This time I got out with a boy who could not have been more then eighteen. We walked out into a rise in the steppe and sat facing a tree line at the base of another mountain. Once again we waited. The sun had long passed its zenith and was now slinking behind some of the near by mountaintops casting a pinkish orange glow over the snow. We waited and waited, I wiggled my fingers and toes, they had gone numb long ago. My compatriot chewed on a length of grass he had plucked from the snow and rested his soviet era rifle across his lap. I was once again getting lost in the beauty of the landscape and vibrant colors of the sky when he sprung up on his knees, clutching his rifle and repeated in a excited whisper "Chono! Chono! Chono!" Roused from my thoughts I followed his gaze and the barrel of his gun towards the trees. My heart pounded, I could feel the cold fang hanging at my chest. I couldn't see the creature, I cursed my poor eyesight, then whispered "Where?" He took his hand off the trigger and pointed, giving me just enough time to see the haunch of an enormous grey wolf slink into the underbrush. It was gone, disappearing out of both of our views. A moment passed, the excitement and adrenaline dying down into quiet again. Suddenly he stood up, slung his rifle over his shoulder then took off down the hill towards the path the jeep had taken. I sprinted after him, through the snow and frozen steppe, down to where he stood waving his arms at the approaching jeep. As it pulled up there was much excited chatter, "Did you see it? Did you see the wolf?" "How big was it?" "It was very big, it was grey and white." "Where did it go?" "In the forest, going east." We hopped in and they sped off towards the east following the tree line, shouting, honking and firing their guns into the trees in an attempt to scare the wolf into moving towards the hunters waiting on the other side. With seven rifles, keen eyesight, and a fast jeep I thought the wolf stood no chance, its wooded refuge was small, offering little protection. We made several passes with no luck, or second sightings. Only myself and the boy had seen the animal. As darkness started to settle in we gave up the hunt and headed back towards town. As we headed down the bumpy road back towards Omnodelger I sat in the back thinking about the unbelievable day I had just experienced. The old herder turned around in the front seat to face me. "We will try again tomorrow." he said sternly. Then as if speaking of an old friend he added,

"The wolf is very clever."

"He is also very strong."