Purple Flowers at Gorkhi-Terelj National Park

Standing among purple flowers, I listened to my sister explain that they only bloom for ten days a year. You're supposed to be near them and breathe them in; then you'll have good health. We stood there, breathing in the flowers, chatting, and humming "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Don't ask me about that last part.

It was 11 am on a Sunday morning, and we were traveling from Ulaanbaatar to Terelj, a settlement in the southern most part of Gorkhi-Terelj National Park. As we traveled toward the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, large buildings disappeared and small structures and gers became common. We were driving through one of Ulaanbaatar's ger districts.

Gers are round, transportable, tent-like structures that have been used by nomadic families in Central Asia for centuries. Ger districts are areas surrounding towns or cities, in this case UB, where families live because housing is too expensive or because of a personal/cultural tie to life in gers. Families living in these ger districts often times have small plots of land, blocked off by simple fences made of wood or sheet metal.

As we drive along, I see private gers operating as restaurants, advertising buuz and other meals. Dogs and horses become a regular sight, along with cows, goats, and sheep. At some point I think everyone got a little annoyed at my excitement over seeing farm animals. On the ride back I got mocking exclamations of tiny cow! and wow, baby goats! Okay, I get it, forgive my excitement. We drive further out of the city, and now there are gers, but further apart and without fences. Roofs and doors are painted bright blues, reds, and greens. Green rolling hills give way to rocky outcrops, and then purple flowers.

Steep roads remain unpaved and gravelly out of the fear that cars will slip on them in the winter. We finally arrive in Terelj, home to a pricy hotel and town residents who advertise dogsled tours, river rafting, horseback riding, and similar tours. We'll be taking one of these. Sarnai's cousin and her cousin's husband are taking us rafting. The rafting was nothing like what I expected – white water rafting – and instead a peaceful ride down the river. We actually got stuck on a few occasions because the river was too shallow. Because there were a limited number of oars, I sat back and enjoyed the beautiful weather while my sister and uncle rowed. Apparently it was quite the work out – I appreciate it guys!

We had lunch and played with rocks while we waited for our turn on the all-terrain vehicles (ATVs). Playing with rocks sounds incredibly awful – what does one do with rocks after all? But it was actually a really fun game (maybe because I was pretty awesome at it). So here's how the game goes: everyone starts with ten rocks. After that each person turns away, chooses the number of rocks they want to hold (this is their bet), and hold their fist out (closed). The other players don't know how many rocks each person is holding. Then each person takes turns guessing how many rocks all the players are holding in total. For example, if I know I'm holding three, and I think Temka and Ella are holding two each, I would guess seven. If no one's guess is correct, we all keep our rocks. If one of has the correct guess, they get the rocks everyone else gambled. This keeps going until one person gets all the rocks. I didn't get them all, but I did have the most by the time we stopped.

So we're waiting for our turn to ride the ATVs, and I'm staring a beautiful husky that looks like it recently had babies and wondering if I can pet it, when I see the smallest most adorable puppy following it. Sarnai's cousin proceeded to freak out, shout "How did you get out?" in Mongolian, run over and pick up the puppy, and then place it in my arms. It was pretty much the highlight of my day week month year. I later found out the puppy was one of several that was kept my Sarnai's cousin for dogsledding in the winter. They let the adult huskies roam free but keep the puppies in an enclosed area; somehow this pup escaped. I was also told that the mother was half-wolf and if I bought food for the mother, I could take home one of the puppies. Tempting, but ultimately something I had to say ugui (no) to.

As for the ATV, it was the bumpiest ride out there, yet also brought me back to my horse-back riding days in how to respond to a bumpy ride that doesn't offer a seatbelt. On our return drive to Ulaanbaatar, we see camels (temë), a donkey, and several large hunting birds, and stop to get a closer view. Mongolian camels are Bactarian Camels, meaning they have two humps, instead of one. When they haven't consumed large amounts of fat, one or both humps lay flatly to the side of the camel, looking almost deflated. The people who owned the camels and birds were also selling traditional, decorated jewelry, statues, containers, and knives. They were exceedingly beautiful and I wish I had a photo to show you them.

As we continued back to the city I found myself nodding off to sleep. Ella nudged me and exclaimed "we're here." I awoke to find us back at the apartment. I had slept more soundly than I thought. With a bayarlalaa (thank you) to the driver, we got our things and ventured into the apartment building – to find that we had no key and no one was home. Exhausted, we sat in front of the door, waiting for some one to return. I reflected on my day. How would I describe it? It was incredible. How could I possibly put into words what I felt? I came to no good conclusion, so I'll leave you with these words: When you accept opportunities, you'll likely find adventure, exhaustion, and a inexplicable but sustaining sense of fulfillment.