Adventures in Asia (Part 3)

I sit cross-legged on a mattress, praying and meditating. Three inches of blankets are pushed to the side. Colorful felt and tassels line the inside walls of yurt, and sheepskins and red carpets cover the floor. Outside, white canvas creaks in the wind as dawn breaks across the world. For one night, I am a nomad on the shores of one of the deepest salt lakes in the world.

Inside is comfort, warmth, peace; outside is driving wind and biting cold. Although I am a tourist sitting beside an electric heater, under electric lights, I try to imagine the days when electricity was just a supernatural phenomenon in thundering clouds. As real nomads huddled in their yurts under stormy skies, they would have needed thick sheepskins or even live sheep to stay warm. I imagine cuddling up to a stinky sheep for the night.

I step out into the crisp air. The lake appears as vast as an ocean, and on the horizon, clouds tower into the sky. Later, when the air clears, I see with wonder and awe that they are not clouds but impossibly tall mountains on the other side of the lake.

My friend and I walk to a nearby house for breakfast, which comes with the nightly price. We kick our boots off at the door and step onto the worn carpet. In an adjacent room, two strangers sit on plush floor rugs at a low table. Small dishes of bread, jellies, and syrups sit on the table. We also sit on the floor, and a young woman brings out a platter of eggs and bread.

After prayer and several bites of food, I begin conversing with the strangers. Both are from Russia, and we talk about jobs and books and languages. We avoid politics. Our countries are on opposite sides of an entrenched war, and none of us can easily visit each other’s countries. But in this country, we can be friends.