

18 Days Before Eighteen

Junghwan Kim

Copyright 2014 by Junghwan Kim

Published at Smashwords
Prologue

Before I begin, there are a few things I would like to talk about to avoid any confusion.

First, the place I stayed during my trip is the Don Bosco youth center. This center is run by the local parish, Maria Auxilium Parish. So, the people who come to the center are mainly those who also go to the church, which is located right next to it.

Second, my interest in visiting Mongolia started from my dad. He is a doctor and medical volunteer, who has been in Darkhan and at Don Bosco center a few times. His accounts of experience were very intriguing to me, and therefore I decided to experience them myself. Thus, I contacted Father Simon, who is in charge of volunteer-related tasks and gained permission to stay at the center.

Third, another helpful source is the Global Awareness Club at my school. Through this activity, I learned about others outside of my little society and became curious about experiencing other countries. My dad's accounts and this club acted together to influence my decision to go on the trip.

Fourth, the structure of this book is that each chapter is a description of a day at the end of that day. Thus, I wrote each chapter at night before I went to sleep. This is why one may spot past and present tenses used together throughout the chapters. Also, this method allows me to render the content more genuine and honest. Meanwhile, there are no pictures in the chapters, because reading without seeing stimulates more imagination in readers.

Finally, this book should not be read for any intellectual reason. This book is a writing through which I convey and show what happened during my trip. It isn't a research paper, news article, college application essay, or anything else. It should only be read as a piece of work that delivers an experience the way it occurred, without any adornment, and hopefully, lets others want to experience the same. For me, its main purpose is to vividly remind me of my 18 days.

Now, lets begin.
July 3rd, 2013

The flight to Mongolia wasn't bad at all. It took only three and a half hours from Korea, which was significantly shorter than the flight between the U.S. and Korea. Having flown between these two countries multiple times, I wasn't tired or anything. I was surprised to see a lot of westerners on the flight, though. Big and tall people with blue eyes, for reasons I didn't know, were heading to Mongolia. During the whole flight I was listening to music and sleeping. Flo Rida's songs were pretty nice.

A few hours after the departure, I arrived at Chinggis Khan International Airport in Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. The airport was smaller than the one in Incheon. The waiting rooms and the gates were almost miniature compared to the airport I departed from. Soon, all the passengers got off the plane and gathered at the immigration office.

The line I took had a very careful worker. He spent double the time the other officers did to check the passengers. When it became my turn, he said with a smile "hello," and asked for my passport and the immigration card I had to write to enter the country. That card bothers me. Every time I take a flight to another country, I have to write one. And whenever I'm trying to write one, I don't have a pen. Plus, I have to get my bag from the overhead compartment in the plane to get my passport. I understand I have to fill in the card, but it does annoy me.

Soon, the officer told me I had to write a more detailed address of where I will be staying for the next eighteen days. Apparently, "Darkhan Don Bosco Center" was not enough. He asked for a room number, which I didn't know, so I explained to him that the address was all I knew. He seemed to think for a little and let me go.

Right outside the office was the baggage claim area, which was extremely crowded. It was a small space for all those bags and people who all poured into the room to find their bags. Luckily, I spotted my bag right away and headed out very quickly.

"Come outside to the greeting place, head left, and come to the TV," is what Father Hoyeal Lee, or Simon, had told me. I did what he said. There, by the television, a mid-aged woman approached me and asked "Did you come from America?" When I was thinking whether I should say Korea or America, she asked me "Did you come to meet a priest?" Bingo. That was me.

There was a big welcome by four people. Father Simon, two Korean women, and an interpreter from Father Simon's office were there to meet me. I didn't expect that many people; I felt like a well-treated guest.

Father Simon asked me how the eightieth birthday celebration of my grandparents went and told me I looked just like my dad. I hear this all the time. I even hear that I act like my dad.

We went to a van and took off for Darkhan, which according to Father Simon, was four or five hours away from Ulaanbaatar. The roads outside Chinggis Khan International Airport weren't the nicest, but it was a new experience for me. The weather was a bit cold. Mongolia was in the north, after all. Father Simon gave me a sleeping bag to cover my body. Shortly, everyone fell asleep.

On the way, we picked up a guy from the city. He looked at me for a few seconds when he first saw me and smiled. He got into the back seat and later put my seat back to help me rest.

Hours later, we finally arrived at Darkhan Don Bosco Center and I received room 304. It had three beds and a table and the windows were wide. I washed in the bathroom. After writing this, I will go to bed.
July 4th, 2013

I woke up at seven o'clock, I think. Father Simon had told me to sleep as much as I want for the first day, but I felt like waking up and walking around the center. Kicking off my first morning in Darkhan, I got up and dressed for a walk.

Downstairs, I met the Mongolian man who helped me with my luggage last night. When he saw me, he said something in Mongolian, which I couldn't understand. Using body language, the guy was definitely saying something about sleeping, because he gathered his hands next to his face and closed his eyes. But, I still couldn't understand. I seriously needed to study Mongolian; a few days of going over the alphabet did not help me.

After the encounter with the man, I wandered around and went outside. I walked to nearby buildings: the church and a museum for the local train station. The church was locked, though, so I only saw the outside. It wasn't too big or grand, but it looked very nice. The reddish bricks were a good material for the building. It also looked very modern; I assumed it wasn't built recently. Across the street from the church were ordinary apartments that looked like giant blocks.

As I stood in front of the church, I could get a good view of the Don Bosco center. It was a five-story building with also reddish-brown bricks. With little knowledge of Mongolian, I could read the two of the three big white words on the building. It said "Don Bosco" and the third one, I couldn't define. On another side of the building, it said "Don Bosco Center" in English. Each room in the center had a balcony. The verandas were white and I could see people's laundry. Surrounding the whole property was a wall that had a gate.

On my way back to the center, I met the lady who approached me at the airport last night, the first person from the center I talked to. She was taking a walk. She greeted me with a smile and we sat down next to the cement basketball court to talk.

She told me she is a volunteer who's been servicing for years. She really likes what she does in Darkhan, because she kept telling me how much she enjoyed being here. She said Darkhan is so clean and beautiful that it makes people think. The scenery simply gives people more things to ponder on, something that isn't done in busy cities. Observing the nature this place provides stimulates something inside us.

She moved on to talk about the sky. She complimented it, emphasizing how clear and beautiful the sky here is. That is what attracts people to Darkhan, she said. As I listened to her, I looked at the bright sky. I already understood what she meant. It was great.

I asked her if there were volunteers other than me. She said there would be a bunch of people in the summer. Students from middle schools and high schools come to the center for service. What they did was various, but most of them worked at the farm and interacted with local Mongolians. One group even built houses for neighbors. A group of students from Hong Kong was currently visiting.

The center isn't just for volunteers, though. It is actually more for the local people. There are learning centers for English, art, and computers that operate during school semesters. Anyone can come and take a lesson, as teachers are available. Outside the building are basketball courts and a soccer field. Of course, kids of all ages love to kick a ball and run around.

After the conversation, I went back inside for breakfast. The first floor classroom was filled with loud people. I peeked inside and saw a group of students in uniformed polo shirts. I assumed they were the students from Hong Kong. I wondered if I should have breakfast there, but Father Simon let me have it in the fifth-floor dining room. I finished my breakfast swiftly, as I only had six slices of bread and three cups of juice.

Father Simon told me he would take me to the farm, which is in an area called Sirenoro. After breakfast, I quickly got ready to leave and came downstairs.

The way to the farm was exotic to me. There were no polished or smooth roads. The path was complete dirt and the car violently shook during the whole ride. It was like one of those 3D theaters that looked like SUVs, which shook as the characters in the movie were driving on a dirt road. I loved it. The ride to Sirenoro was fun. I'd never ridden a car on a road like this. Compared to the boring streets of Korea and the U.S., the roads in Darkhan excited me.

On the way, I saw a lot of animals freely roaming around. Cows and horses had no owners and walked around peoples' houses. Dogs were not to be leashed and they were allowed to hang out with other dogs; this created a funny scene.

A few minutes of driving got us to Sirenoro. The farm was bigger than I had expected. I don't know the exact area of it, but it sure was big enough for plenty of products. Surrounded by a wall, the farm definitely could fit hundreds of people. The land was divided into parts where different vegetables were planted. I also spotted some green houses.

Father Simon took me to a small brick building, which was the kitchen. Right outside the kitchen, I met a bunch of Mongolians of various ages. I saw kids that looked like kindergartners to college graduates. It certainly was a diverse group.

As soon as they saw me, the Mongolians smiled and greeted. The little kids ran towards me and held my hand, asking things in Mongolian. Since I couldn't understand, I only smiled and yelled "sam beno," which means "hello." I said more Mongolian words and that made them laugh.

A few of the people there spoke to me in English. One of them introduced himself as Gerard and welcomed me to the farm. He had a Steven Gerard jersey on, which I pointed out. Relaxing under a small tree, he called me his "friend."

Even though I just met them, it was pleasant. My first impression was that everyone was energetic. They laughed and behaved with vigor. They didn't seem to be troubled by a stranger from Korea at all. Overall, they approached me with enthusiasm and positivity and I was very thankful for that.

However, I must admit that I didn't feel too comfortable in the beginning. I felt like a complete outsider. I worried that they wouldn't like me and feared that I couldn't get closer to them. Yet, their approach relieved me from that stress and helped me to be myself. Also, I realized thinking about how different we were wouldn't do anything. In a short time, we became friends.

After some conversations, I helped with harvesting the spinach. I worked with my new Mongolian friends, who were all great workers. They never complained but only enjoyed what they did. Both boys and girls worked diligently.

I saw two nuns at the farm. Sister Agnus is from India and Sister Hanako is from Japan. The Indian nun is a polyglot; she speaks Mongolian, English, Korean, and probably more. Both nuns were friendly and they went along very well with the children there. I thought it was very nice of them to interact with little kids like that.

I thought they were also brave. They came all the way to Mongolia from their countries only for religion. They probably hadn't known how to speak Mongolian and simply came here with nothing. That is courage.

A little later, I parted from the farm and came back to the center, where I was given lunch. During the meal, I sat next to one of the people who had been at the airport, who I learned is a professor at Hanyang University in Korea. She said she came to Darkhan to research. Studying about schools and welfare, the professor is currently in charge of teaching the local schools how to efficiently utilize welfare programs at schools.

The professor looked liked one of my aunts, who is also a professor at a university. I told her that and she laughed. I realized she was a nice person to talk to. She knew about a lot of things and that gave us many topics to talk about. Unfortunately though, she is going back to Korea soon and will come back months later.

As we ate our meat soup, dumplings, and pickles, I noticed something. There wasn't that much green on our tables. While I was thinking about it, the professor told me that Mongolian cuisine is mainly based on meat. Mongolians don't really view vegetables as an important food source and they naturally avoid eating them. However, this kind of cuisine creates some serious problems, according to the professor. Death among young people happens due to diseases caused by eating only meat. Obesity is another problem.

Then, she told me about Father Simon's vision. She told me that one of the primary reasons for Father Simon's farm is to promote "vegetable-eating," which will solve these problems. By starting the farm, Father Simon hopes to spread vegetable consumption to local people. It starts from the children who visit the farm and then to their homes, I assumed.

After having a lot of dumplings-really nice dumplings-I went back to my room. Trying to digest, I looked out the window. The sky was beautiful. It was a piece of art; the endless blue sky with some strips of white cloud that looked like cotton candy being blown by wind. Under everything was the grand plain with two small hills and ordinary houses of blue and red roofs. The view just delighted me. It is definitely something that one cannot see in Seoul or New York. I can't even explain exactly with words. One has to see it. What the volunteer lady told me was absolutely true.

I definitely had to take pictures. I took my camera and went outside to photograph the surroundings, including the center building. Outside, I met a teenager of about my age and his little brother. He approached me with a rubik's cube. Noticing that I couldn't speak Mongolian, he just showed me how to solve the rubik's cube. It was interesting, because he was good at it.

Then, we came inside to the lobby. We sat down, trying to talk about ourselves. With a distinctive Mongolian accent, he told me in English he is "sixteen," an year younger than I. Trying to tell him where I came from, I said Korea and America. I think he understood.

To have a better conversation, I got my book of Mongolian phrases I brought from Korea. Looking in the guide, we translated Mongolian into Korean and Korean into Mongolian. Then, he found the word "fruit" in the book and motioned me to follow.

He led me to the outside of the center near some bushes. There, he showed me how to pick a berry and eat it. I did what he showed me, taking a berry off the bush and just throwing it in my mouth. It was sour, but at the end of that taste was something that made me want to eat more. As we ate more berries, we made weird faces because of the sour taste. We laughed.

We came back and played a game. We played Connect Four. While he and I played, more people joined us, including the security guard. When it wasn't my turn, I watched the others play. They loved playing this game. They played this over and over again, which I did, too. It was simple and fun with some unexpected results.

After a few minutes, he took me to the library. The library was near the lobby, except that we had to go outside to get there. When we went inside the library, I spotted desks, chairs, and books. Meanwhile, my Mongolian friends were reading books and playing Uno. I joined them in playing the game.

On the wall, there were maps of the old Mongolian empire. As a person fascinated by Chinggis Khan and his empire, I looked carefully at the maps. The vast territories of the horse-riding king were astonishing.

I needed Wi-Fi connection, but I didn't have the password to the one available at the center. My new friend with the rubik's cube, whose name I learned was Timujin, said he knows where to get free internet. He looked in the phrases book and found the word "train," and pointed towards the train station.

On the way to the station, we tried to have more conversations. Obviously, that wasn't too successful, but we liked having those unsuccessful talks. Just yelling out Mongolian words I found in the book, I made him laugh. Taking turns searching in the phrases book, we tried to say things we saw around us, like "church" and "buildings." When we got to the station, though, the wifi didn't work.

Back at the center's yard, where I met more people, I arm-wrestled some children. They looked like eight to ten years old. They laughed as I beat them but purposely lost to the youngest child. Later, I played basketball and volleyball with Mongolians of my age. This continued until the evening, when the group of students from Hong Kong came back to the center from a local trip.

One of the teachers from that group, who shook hands with me and told me his name was Mr. Wong, joined us in playing Tumus. Tumus means potato and it is a game in which participants have to pass the ball with their hands to another person in a circle. When someone misses a pass or gives a bad pass, he or she has to crouch in the middle and the players outside can spike the ball at the person. It was a fun game that everyone enjoyed playing.

Soon, it was time for dinner and I went upstairs. Supper was prepared by the volunteer lady and it was very good. I thanked for it. My Mongolian friends went home at eight o'clock. It was a nice first day.
July 5th, 2013

I was supposed to be in the lobby at six in the morning to go to the farm today. Waking up early was successful; I got up half an hour before six. Yet, when I ran downstairs, the clock was pointing at 6:05. As soon as I got to the lobby, I saw the bus leave out the gate. The security guard saw me and tried to stopped the bus. He yelled and made noises, but the bus did not look back.

After we realized it was no use, the security guard and I used body language to communicate. He looked at me and motioned using a water hose. I figured that he was asking if I wanted to water something. The charade wasn't hard. I said "ja," meaning "ok," and he took me to where the hose was. The hose was heavy and long. It probably reached tens of feet if it were stretched. Carrying the hose, the guard and I went to a small garden in the back of the center, where we found a lot of small plants. I didn't really know what they exactly were, but they looked like some kinds of lettuce.

I watered the garden for a while and came back inside. In the lobby, I met the teacher of the Hong Kong students I saw yesterday. He said "good morning" and I said it back. When I asked him if the students were going to take the bus I missed to the farm, he said yes. Then, he asked me to join them for breakfast in the classroom, where about twenty people were eating bread and cheese.

While we were eating, I tried to talk to them. I said some Chinese words I barely knew, trying to get closer. "Nihao" was the only word I was confident saying, but I said some Chinese sentences I learned when I was little, too. They and I talked, saying basic things like where we were from. Never having talked to people from China or Hong Kong like that, I was having fun. Soon, we finished breakfast and readied to leave for Sirenoro. We took the bus that came back for us.

On the way to the farm, the Hong Kongers and I talked more. They seemed to be curious about me. Thankfully, they were interested in me and, as I was, were willing to learn about each other. Answering their questions, I told them my name in Mandarin and they told me how to say it in Cantonese, the language spoken in Hong Kong. I knew how to write my name in Chinese, so I showed them that. They though it was funny that I tried to write in Chinese. In turn, they said some Korean words like "dongdaemun" and "samgyupsal," which are a historical gate and type of pork, respectively.

The bus arrived and we met all the other people, including my Mongolian friends. They have been working at the farm since early morning today. Busy and diligent people, I thought. They do this every day, except in the weekends. From early morning to little before noon, they work at the farm. The tasks at the farm are very diverse, as there are many jobs that are to be done, ranging from weeding to shoveling. Yet, they did not complain or show any sign of frustration. It was so pleasant how they enjoy what they do and what they have. This was how they lived and they loved it.

At the farm, all of us weeded out unnecessary plants. I worked with my new Hong Kong friends in one side of the farm. While we worked, we talked about many thing from living in the U.S., Korea, and Hong Kong to what music we like. They told me education in Hong Kong is really tough. They have rigorous courses at schools and have after-school activities.

They seemed to like K-pop. Not only did they, but also my Mongolian friends. While we were working, they put Korean songs on speakers. There were songs by various artists, from Big Bang to Psy. They even had songs that I didn't even have any clue of. And I'm the Korean here, right? I've heard that K-pop is popular in Asia, but I didn't expect this much.

Having many conversations with my Hong Kong friends, I realized they spoke English very well. Surely, they had an accent, but their sentences and words were accurate and correct. When I asked, they told me people in Hong Kong speak Mandarin, Cantonese, and English. Since the city is global and diverse, the people of the city learn multiple languages naturally.

Of course, we couldn't all understand what we were saying. All of us, Mongolians, Hong Kongers, and a Korean, spoke different languages. There was not a single way to communicate fully. Yet, languages could not be a barrier. Despite the absence of a common language, we all went along very well. We understood each other and simply enjoyed like little children. Thus, we all felt comfortable with each other and only became closer.

Soon, it was time for lunch. The meal was Mongolian-style soup with Korean side dishes. Talk about a multicultural meal! My Mongolian and Hong Kong friends all liked the exotic taste of kimchi, although they needed water to deal with the spiciness.

During lunch, Father Simon explained to all of us about his "vegetable-eating" project. He talked about how Mongolians don't eat vegetables and that by operating the farm, he wishes to promote green diet for people. Everyone nodded with approval and respect.

After good food, one must play. That's what we did. After finishing lunch, we all gathered to play a game. It was a game in which each group of people chooses to be either a tiger, human, or hunter. It worked like rock paper scissors. I was in a team with the Hong Kong friends. When we chose what we would be, both teams either roared, stood like a human, or motioned shooting. Laughter was everywhere and everyone was enjoying it. Even though it was a childish game, we had a lot of fun.

Playing the game, we all became close friends and no one seemed to treat another as a stranger. I was very happy. It was so beautiful in that we all got along together with no difficulty at all. We understood we were in some ways different, but that didn't matter. We were all humans and that simply made us friends.

During the game, I got closer to a girl named Clare, one of the students from Hong Kong. While our team was choosing among the choices, the tiger, human, and hunter, in Cantonese, she told me in English what we would be. She was really nice. Every single thing they said, she translated for me. Thanks to her, I could know what I was laughing about during the game. For the rest of the game, we kept talking and fooling around, as she jokingly called me "stupid.".

Back at the center, I received a special meal from the center. It was originally for the Hong Kong students, but I was also invited to attend. The second lunch (apparently though, the meal at the farm was not a lunch) was mutton and soup. The meat was a little stiff, the way Mongolians ate it. It was chewy and tasty. The soup amazingly complemented the combo, delighting my stomach.

I might be saying this too much, but all of us went along really well. After lunch, my Hong Kong friends gathered with my Mongolian friends in the lobby. Everyone circled around on the floor and played games like Uno. No one knew what someone was saying in Chinese or Mongolian, but everyone had a smile. Everyone just enjoyed being together on the floor. I also joined the game.

Another incident was the volleyball game. Later, we all went outside to play volleyball. With two giant teams, we had fun tossing and spiking the ball. Some of us weren't that good and some of us couldn't hit the ball well, but we all simply liked what we were doing. Just like during Uno, we just liked that we were together.

When I stepped out of the game to take a picture, I was surprised. In that box of green lines that set the volleyball court, Mongolians, Hong Kongers, and a Korean (oh, and also Indonesian and Japanese, since the Sisters joined us) were together. There were no boundaries that separated us. Instead, the border outside the volleyball court kept us together, further tightening our relationship. We were mixed and made into one.

About at three o'clock, some of my Hong Kong friends conducted an English lesson. They invited our Mongolian friends and taught them English and about other countries. Using pictures and cards that had names of various cities written down, they carried out a fun lesson for the Mongolians.

Meanwhile, outside the classroom, there were some girls dancing. When I spotted them and went to them, they tried to hide what they were doing. They tried to cover up what they were doing with big smiles. When I teased them for fun, they told me they would perform in front of the Mongolians tonight. They said they were going to dance to some songs, one of them being Gangnam Style. Ah, I met Gangnam Style again. Then, they told me I should dance with them. I was hesitant, but they said I should definitely do it. Later, I practiced a little with the whole Hong Kong group.

Timujin also saw the girls dance. He instantly noticed that they would perform. He kept asking me if they would and I just said I didn't know. But, he knew that I knew.

As a usual activity, mass was given at six o'clock. It was solemn and respectful, with Father Paul leading it. The chorus was made up of some Mongolian girls, who were my friends. They sang to the music Sister Hanako played on the organ. Nicely done. With the right tone and meter, their singing made the mass even better. They really had some talents.

After mass, it was time for the performance. The show was pretty long, with many people performing. It wasn't only the Hong Kong friends. My Mongolian friends also prepared something to show. Girls sang and danced to some Korean songs. As a reply, my Hong Kong friends performed on stage what they prepared. I was encouraged to join them, so I did.

When it wasn't our turn, I was sitting down to enjoy others' gigs. Then, one of my Hong Kong friends, Ansan, pointed at a child with very long hair. He told me the kid was a boy. I didn't believe him. I told him no way, especially after seeing the child's face. That child was definitely a girl. But, he told me that Mongolian children don't get their first haircut until the age of three. I was surprised. That was some nice cultural information. I thought it was unique.

When the concert was over, all of us went to the center lobby. People were saying good-bye, as the students are scheduled to go back to Hong Kong tomorrow. They all clustered in groups, asking for Facebook accounts, email addresses, and more. Looking like best pals, they had so much affection for each other. After having been here for a week, the students from Hong Kong became so close to their new Mongolian friends. Later, we parted for supper.

Dinner was pleasant, after all the activities we had done in the morning and afternoon. Father Paul thanked the Hong Kong group for visiting and gave out presents to everyone, including me. The teachers got small figures or statues and the students got wristbands. The statues were Mary and the wristbands had the parish's name and website, along with the phrase "God is Love" in both Mongolian and English. Key chains were given as additional gifts.

At the end of the supper, my Hong Kong friends sang a few songs, one of which was their school song. Surprisingly, it was in English and it was about people being a family. They sang it with clear and loud voices.

At the dinner, I talked more with my Hong Kong friends and their teachers. We had casual conversations on various topics. One of them was about the Chinese government. We talked like we've known each other for a long time, without realizing we met each other today. We laughed and liked our conversations, wishing to talk more.

After all of that had ended, I went to a nearby supermarket with Mr. Wong and Mr. Tso, both of whom are teachers at the Hong Kong school. I spotted a lot of local people on the way. This was the first time I saw Mongolians outside the center in Darkhan. They were relaxing on the streets where there were no lights at all. It was very dark, but I assumed it was not a problem for them. At the supermarket, we bought some ice cream and Mr. Wong recommended me a chocolate ice cream, telling me I should definitely try it.

When we got back from the supermarket, we all sat down on the stairs of the center to talk. They spoke Cantonese, but Clare told me in English what they were saying. Sometimes, they would seem serious and sometimes they would laugh. They were also talking about their schedule for tomorrow.

Clare and I had many conversations. They weren't about anything important or serious, but we enjoyed them. We were sitting next to each other, talking about random and trivial things and I liked it. I assumed she liked it, too. Both of us were laughing the whole time.

Throughout the day, I noticed that I was attracted to this girl. She was pretty, first of all. Also, she didn't seem to dislike me, so I kept on talking to her. She was a fun person to hang out with. Another aspect of her I liked is that she was a generous person. Not only good-looking, but also thoughtful to others, Clare was a great girl. We eventually got closer and closer, hinting at each other that one of us liked the other. Unfortunately, she had a boyfriend, I heard.

When it became late, I came upstairs to my room. However, as soon as I got into my room, I felt something. I sat down on my chair and tried to figure out what that was. It was loneliness. Knowing that my Hong Kong friends would leave tomorrow, I couldn't be too happy. I knew we hadn't been friends for a long time; we knew each other for one day. We met today and until this morning we had no idea who each other was. Nonetheless, today felt like a good, long day. It felt like years of us having known another. I was so close to them like they were my childhood friends and I didn't want to imagine how it would feel when they were gone.

They have been such nice people. For the interactions we made, I am thankful; they were a priceless experience for me. I wish they could stay longer, but I know that can't happen. They need to go back and finish school, while I am staying for more in Darkhan here. Tomorrow, we will have to part and wait until we see again, which probably won't happen. This is how humans live. We get closer to others and then sadly leave. Just the hope that someone would miss me encourages me.

As I write this, I look at the Mongolian night. It is dark, as anywhere else, but the very sparse street lights and the cool breeze give me a special feeling. Everything seems to have stopped. To me, the Korean and American worlds have paused. I am living my own world in Darkhan with Mongolians. It is so peaceful that I can't explain exactly with words. It is a feeling one would know only when he or she experiences first-hand. It is simply beautiful.
July 6th, 2013

Today is Saturday and there was no farm work in the morning. I had a nice sleep and woke up at seven thirty. I wandered around the outside a little, looking for some people, but everyone seemed to be asleep in their rooms. So I just went upstairs to have breakfast, where I met Father Paul eating alone. Seeing Father Paul, I remembered the Korean traditional cookies my dad told me to give the priests, so I went to my room to get them. The cookie box looked very sophisticated with vivid colors and fancy words. When I gave the cookies to Father Paul, he thanked me. He looked at it for a while and smiled, putting it on the table. Then, he left to prepare for the morning mass at 10 a.m.

A little later, I went to the church to prepare to play my clarinet during mass. Sister Hanako, the nun in charge of music-related things here, showed me the sheet music I was to play. However, when she put it on the organ, since she had to see it too, the notes and signs were too small for me to read. I couldn't really see them because of the distance between my eyes and the organ. Not only that, but also practicing an hour before mass was not a good idea. I should have prepared for it earlier.

Thus, I played my own song during mass. It was a classical and did not fit the atmosphere in the church. The sound rang a lot, too. It was very bad. I played correctly as the sheet indicated, but it did not sound that good. I was a bit embarrassed.

At least my Mongolian friends seemed to like the instrument. After mass, they came to me, showing interest in the clarinet. They tried to play it, but they couldn't. It really is hard to play a clarinet if one's never done it before. They kept talking about the clarinet and I told them I could teach how to play, since I brought more to Darkhan.

For a few hours after mass, everyone was saying good-bye to each other, as the Hong Kong students were to leave soon. We all talked about how we should meet again and played multiple rounds of Tumus together. While we played, Clare asked me to join in. Passing the ball to each other, we had our eyes meet each other. I liked that.

After lunch, they really had to leave. Everyone was feeling sad to leave or to be left behind. Girls were crying and hugging. To remember each other, we took many pictures together. Cameras flashed everywhere. I took a lot of pictures with my Hong Kong friends on both my camera and theirs. At least we'll get to see each other in those photographs.

Clare gave me a wristband she made. It was of strands of different colors, yellow, blue, and red. Telling me she had made if for me, Clare wrapped it around my wrist. I thanked her and told her to email me when she arrives at Hong Kong.

They got on the vans. The girls kept crying and they held tightly to the Mongolian girls. I jumped around with my Hong Kong friends and hugged Clare. I tried to joke around and make people laugh, to make the moment less depressing. We promised we would meet in Hong Kong later.

As the vans were finally about to head out, my Mongolian friends and I all lined up in two at the gates. As the cars drove through the two lines, we all tapped the cars' windows, screaming and jumping. Being just rowdy, we made the moment our last memory of them. Everyone was sad, but we laughed and smiled. We wanted to remember each other as merry friends.

And that was it. They were gone.

I felt extremely lonely. Having so many good friends gone is a painful thing. From now on, I can't see those students from Hong Kong in the center lobby, playing Uno. I can't talk about their lives in Hong Kong and I can't play Tumus with them. They were gone and I realized it would be highly improbable that we would meet again.

I wonder how this is all possible. I've known them for literally two days. How can we be so close like this? We were complete strangers until yesterday's breakfast, but now we feel like best friends. There can't be any other explanation except that we are all empathizing humans. As human beings, we simply attached with each other and created ties. It is amazing.

While I was still thinking about them, Father Simon asked me to go to the market with him. I went there with the volunteer lady, professor, and Norow.

When we got there, there were no parking spots. Cars just parked on the dirt on the side. Giant dogs were swaggering around and I even saw some chopped-off cow feet. Honestly, it wasn't the most organized place. However, that disorder on the dirt looked good to me. It looked genuine and real. There was no pretension but only honesty and practicality.

The market had many different products. Everything could be found there, from phone accessories to frozen beef. It became more exotic to me when I entered the meat market. There were people selling big chunks of meat on long tables. Now that was something I'd never seen. It was some experience.

Norow took me to the electronics corner. There, he bought a new phone case. It was a very white one. On the way back to the car, Norow and I helped with carrying the goods we bought. He also bought me an ice cream. I said "bayarla," which means "thank you."

Not only I looked around, but also I learned new Mongolian words. Since the market had many things, animals, and people, there were a lot of words I could learn. While we walked around, I would point at something and Norow told me the what it was called in Mongolian. Although I couldn't speak to him in perfect Mongolian, I could pick up the words. For example, when I pointed at a dog he said "locho."

Back at the center, I played basketball with Timujin and took a picture of a kid named Emka with the present Clare left for him. The gift was a wristband, the one like mine, and a pack of colored pencils. Holding the present, Emka smiled at the camera. I hoped Clare would like the picture.

Now, I am back in my room. Sitting on my chair, I look back at the day. Although it's been a very short time, I miss a lot of people already. I wish they can come back, but that isn't going to happen. I just hate how it's the one who is left behind that misses the more.
July 7th, 2013

Thinking that I had farm work today, I woke up at five thirty. Upstairs on the fifth floor, I had some bread to fill in my stomach. I really haven't eaten that much in the last few mornings. Everyday, I just had light breakfast of bread and juice. I just didn't want to eat more, even though I knew I would be hungry at the farm.

I brushed my teeth, put on my clothes, and came downstairs to the lobby. But, for some reason, Father Simon did not appear. I waited and waited until half after six, but there was still no sign of him. So, I just laid down on one of the couches and fell asleep. Whenever I heard a sound coming from the outside, I got up to see if it was Father Simon. Still not him. Then, I slept till seven thirty.

I met Gerard, who walked into the lobby. He said good morning and shook my hand. Both tired and sleepy, he and I looked untidy. We both laughed at each other's face. When I asked him if there was farm work today, he said no. Oh, I could have had a better sleep in my room. Anyways, I was fully awake then.

I went outside to play basketball. As I was shooting some hoops, Gerard came outside and joined me. I suggested him to shoot ally-oops, which I had to explain to him what they were. As I demonstrated how ally-oops worked, he got the hang of it very quickly and we started playing. Trying to get the rebound while we were in the air, we both looked silly. We had a nice laugh and some fun in the morning.

I spotted the professor coming back from the morning market nearby. In her hands was a bucket of yogurt; I think it was Mongolian yogurt. She asked me if I had breakfast and I said no, because two slices of toast were not enough at all. We went upstairs to the dining room and had yogurt with bread. The sour taste of it went along very well with toast. They complemented each other, as without either one felt like something was missing. I never knew yogurt could be that good.

After my second and real breakfast, I went downstairs to hang out in the lobby. My Mongolian friends showed up and we all sat down to watch TV. The cartoon with the giant red dog was on. It reminded me of my childhood, because I used to watch it when I was little. The cartoon was dubbed, but only the voices were. Other sound effects, such as a noise created from hitting or crashing, were not on. It only consisted of people talking, which was a little odd. The characters had the same voice, too.

Soon, it was twenty minutes before 10 a.m. and we all headed to the church. The mass was large, because today is Sunday. A lot of people came, including many adults.

Some were dressed in traditional clothes of Mongolia. The clothes, which looked like robes or dresses, were of bluish color. They also had shapes on the blue background. They looked thick; I assumed it was because Mongolia is usually cold.

Mass was over and we, everyone from adults to children, went to the Don Bosco center. We had some snack; it was breadsticks and some sweet Mongolian drink. At first, I tried the breadsticks with water. The bread pieces got sticky and got attached strongly to the inside of my mouth. But, when I drank the hot tea that was provided, the bread sticks tasted so much better. Enjoying the light snack, I talked and hung out for a while until the professor asked me to come over to the office.

In the office, I met two Korean volunteers, one male and one female, from KOICA, a Korean governmental institution that manages volunteer services in foreign countries. Both of them were teaching in Darkhan. The guy taught at a university and the lady at kindergarten. They briefly explained what they did at their schools. The guy was teaching something related to robots, as he knew electrical engineering.

From our conversations, I realized the guy was from Norwood, a town near mine in the U.S., and that he graduated from a high school in Old Tappan, where I took my SAT. Wow, what a small world. Of all the places, he was from the town that's fifteen minutes away from my house in America. This wasn't the first time for me, though. This happened quite a lot to me. Last year, when I was in Korea, I met two people who lived near my town in the States. One of them was a kid of my age who went to Bergen Catholic High School, one of my school's rivals in the area. The other was a college graduate and a teacher, who lived in Demarest, a town very near mine. It's cool, because everywhere I go, I see someone who lives near me in America.

Anyways, we talked about various things, from what I am doing in Darkhan to track meets in American high schools. I could talk about many topics with the guy, since we were from similar backgrounds. We talked about his and my high school experiences, too. Overall, meeting them was nice. It felt odd to find Koreans here, but I enjoyed the time with them. Also, they reminded me of my Hong Kong friends.

Lunch was with special guests today. Two extra seats were prepared for a Frenchman and his 81-year-old mother. The man was the president of the website design company that provided the website for the church parish here. He knew how to speak French, English, and Spanish. I spoke to him in Spanish and he said something back, which I didn't understand fully. Meanwhile, his mother did not look that old at all; she looked at least 20 years younger than her actual age.

After lunch, Sister Agnus asked me to teach her how to play the clarinet. I was glad that she asked. I brought the extra clarinet down to the classroom, where I met with her. I first taught her the basics, which was setting up the instrument. She learned how to join all the pieces into one to form the whole clarinet. Then, I taught her how to use the reed and play the scale. When we got to the scale, though, she had trouble. It wasn't easy for her to make the right sound, as she was a beginner. This is a common thing that happens to new learners, so it's natural. She eventually made some correct sounds as she practiced.

However, Sister and I realized that the two clarinets sounded a little different. One of them was half note higher than the other. We needed to check which one was the right one, so we went to the chapel in the fourth floor, where there was a piano. Trying to figure out what was wrong, we played the scale on the piano to match it with the clarinets.' For now, we concluded that the barrel, which connects the mouthpiece to the joints, of one of the clarinets was broken. We weren't sure which one was the bad one, so we decided to figure that out when we get the other clarinet Father Simon has. Until then, we will concentrate in making a good, clear sound and memorizing the scale.

Sister Agnus was a quick learner. She did fairly well. On the first day, she learned to play from G to lower E. I think that is great work for a beginner. During the lesson, she asked me to play some songs she played on the piano. Looking at the stack of sheet music she had, I was genuinely surprised. A lot of them were Korean songs. I mean, I guessed Father Simon had an influence, as he is Korean, but still, this was impressive. One of her favorite songs was even Korean. We played that song together on the piano and clarinet, which was called "Beautiful Person."

After that, the lesson was over. I remembered when I was a beginner, when I could hardly play the easiest scale. That was a few years ago, when I sat next to my tutor to play Jingle Bells. Now I was teaching someone. I even wanted to teach my Mongolian friends. I wanted the clarinet to be a common instrument among the people here.

There hasn't been anything special until the evening, except that Clare sent me an email. I assumed she got home in Hong Kong. I was excited to receive her words. I sent an email back, asking how she is, expecting a reply. Then, I went outside. During the whole time I was playing basketball, I thought about the email.

Later, I spotted some people walking to the church. I asked a girl about it and she told me I can go, too. So I went to the church, where I saw Father Paul do something at the altar. It wasn't a mass but I joined anyways. During the ceremony, Timujin, who sat next to me, was joking around and laughing. I almost laughed out loud, which could have gotten me in trouble during the solemn prayer.

A few moments later I came outside. On the bigger basketball court, my friends and I played soccer, or football, as they call it here. I haven't played soccer in such a long time, even though I played at my school. I played badly, as I kept making mistakes. However, one of my friends, Baga, was flying on the field. With his Frank Lampard jersey on, he was the best player in the game. He did a lot of tricks like one would do in street soccer and scored multiple goals. His amazing tricks looked really cool and his passes were accurate. If Chelsea needed a young player, it really has to look into Mongolia.

Soon, the game became bigger and everyone joined it, including the Sisters and Father Simon. We actively played soccer until six o'clock in the evening, sweating and running around. Everyone enjoyed playing it and it was really pleasant that we were all involved. Towards the end, I fooled around with my friends by pushing and lightly hitting each other. They, both boys and girls, kept yelling my confirmation name, Michael, and pushing me back.

We came into the lobby after the game, where we had some water and rest. We sat around to relax. Then, one girl took the wristband Clare gave me and ran away as a prank. I chased her and tried to get the wristband back, which I also did playfully, but it broke. However, she knew how to fix it. It was kind of interesting to see how girls could do things like that. They could make and fix things like wristbands.

Dinner was bibimbap, Korean style rice well mixed with vegetables and spicy sauce. The two French enjoyed the Korean supper, too. The two priests showed up late, though, as they had been praying. So, dinner ended at about ten.

Back in my room, I saw Clare's messages on Kakao talk, which is a messenger service. We had some nice conversations about Mongolia and how she misses it. At this moment, I am texting her and my phone is vibrating endlessly. I'm really glad that we are still talking to each other. Carefully, I hope what I thought was wrong, that we will never be able to meet again.
July 8th, 2013

Yes! I wasn't late to go to the farm today. In fact, I was early and waited for the bus with some friends in the lobby. I was really tired, though. For some reason, this morning was not that fresh. When I almost fell asleep in the lobby, the bus arrived and we all got on it. This was actually the first time I went to the farm at six o'clock. The bus stopped at two or three places to pick up additional people and went straight to the farm.

For a while, we just hung out at the farm. There wasn't any work to do at that time, since the schedule divided time for work and other stuff. We had to read some books for a while and say a prayer. Trying to read a Mongolian book, I succeeded in saying a few words. It was fun figuring out how to pronounce words from knowing the letters. At the same time, it was interesting to learn a new language.

A little later, we started to work. Today, we weeded out some plants. I worked with some girls on one side of the land. Crouching and pulling, we worked diligently. While we worked, we kept talking. Tungaa helped me with the translation, as she was one of the few people who spoke English. We talked about some random things, which was fun.

When I looked up to give my neck a rest, I spotted the sky. It was incredible. The sky was so spectacular that it didn't even look real. Looking like one of those high-quality 3D images, the very blue sky had occasional clouds hanging. It was like one of those pictures on the internet that made one feel awesome. Actually, it was better than those pictures. I was amazed.

Lunch was some pasta-like food and rice. The appearance of the food wasn't a five-star, but when I tasted it, it was heavenly. After all the work, I devoured everything in my bowl. It wasn't just me. Everyone seemed to love it.

After lunch, we sat around on the grass to talk. My friends were speaking Mongolian, so I couldn't really understand everything they said. I heard them say "Michael" a lot, so I figured the conversation was about me. When I asked Tungaa, she said it was something good about me. While we were talking, Gerard joined us. As soon as he did, he started to lead the overall conversation. He engaged others to talk about what he was talking about, making others laugh and smile. He was the leader of the group. It isn't just when we talk. Gerard is always the one who directs and executes first. Others like to follow him and be with him. So he definitely isn't a tyrant. He is a thoughtful leader.

Back at the center, I took a little nap. I finished my sleep that I couldn't have in the morning. My full stomach made the nap sweeter.

After I woke up, I went outside to meet my friends. Seeing some people just sit and talk, I joined them. By now, I have gotten close to almost all the Mongolians I've met.

Clare's wristband kept breaking. Not gifted with crafting, I struggled to fix it. When some other girls helped me with it, I was able to put it back around my wrist. Erica fixed it so easily; again, I was genuinely amazed how girls just did that.

In the evening I played soccer. Baga was exceptional again and I played alright. Unlike yesterday, I didn't make any mistake. I think that was because I was confident. That is what really matters. If one's confident, he or she doesn't make any mistake. Not just in soccer, but also in everyday life. Confidence changes everything, as when one is confident he can do a lot of things that he can't when he lacks the confidence. This applies to everything, from talking strangers to playing soccer with friends.

One of the guys I played soccer with wanted to look good. I'm not trying to sound insulting, but he wanted to look like a good player. He did have skills, but he was overdoing everything. He showed unnecessary moves and tricks, often failing to carry them out successfully. I even took the ball away from him a few times. When we played basketball, he scored two shots. Still, he was just having fun. I could see in his face that he simply enjoyed it. I guess he is just an active person.

After this, we went to the church to attend mass and played soccer again when we came back. This time Gerard joined the game. He was really good at soccer. His kick sent the ball to a precise location. His shots were strong, just like the guy whose name was on his jersey, Steven Gerard.

At night, after dinner, I talked with my mom on the phone. I didn't use any telephone service, but only Kakao Talk. The messaging service also allowed people to use the internet for calls. With the WiFi at the center, I could talk to her at anytime, however long we wanted. Technology is useful.
July 9th, 2013

Everything was usual today. Farm work in the morning, lunch, just chilling with my friends, playing soccer, mass, and dinner. One special thing that happened was that Clare and I talked a lot today. She sent me messages, to which I gladly replied. Deep into our conversation, she and I started exchanging some sweet talks. We were talking about how much we missed each other and that we should have hugged more tightly when we were parting. We also talked about how we will see each other next year in not only Mongolia, but also Hong Kong and Korea. I wish this actually happens.

But, I know this can come to an end someday. Even though we feel very close and intimate right now, some time in the future, our feelings will diminish. We will somewhat forget how sweet we were to each other and simply dismiss each other as friends. It would be lucky if we were friends who kept in touch.

As humans, when our bodies aren't near each other, our minds aren't either. I definitely do not want this to happen, but my experiences tell me it will. I learned this from living in different places, which made me say good-bye to a lot of people. After a very passionate "good-bye" and "I will miss you," the physical distance stretches the emotional.

Nonetheless, I decided to enjoy the moment. I liked talking to Clare and she liked talking to me. I'm not worried about anything right now. I just want to enjoy the moment.
July 10th, 2013

Today is Naadam, the very popular and famous Mongolian traditional holiday and festival. On this day, Mongolians play three traditional games-Mongolian wrestling, horse-racing, and archery. The games are accompanied by a celebration, which includes traditional dancing. The tradition has been kept for centuries and is enlisted as an intangible cultural heritage by UNESCO.

Anyways, since it is Naadam, there was no farm work. But, Father Simon asked me to go with him to get some cow manure for the farm. The manure is a good source of nutrition for growing plants. So I went with Father Simon, Gerard, and the volunteer lady-Ms. Yoo; I finally learned her name today. We took a mini van to the farm first and got into a blue pickup truck. However, the truck only had two seats and maybe a half. Thus, Gerard and I got in the trunk, in the open space.

We headed towards the more rural side of Darkhan. Slipping into the countryside, we drove on muddy and harsh roads. They were wild and fierce; the truck was bouncing and shaking like a bull.

The way to our destination was amazing. Nature was magnificent. A little outside of Darkhan, the rural area of Mongolia delighted me so much. The sky was endless and covered with uncountable white clouds. There was not a single black cloud that ruined the scenery. It was so wide and clear that it dwarfed me like something that couldn't even be seen with the naked eye. For the first time in my life, the sky looked like an open and deep space that connected to a higher place than merely where the earth hit its top.

The plains and mountains were better than any picture that could convey a beauty. Green and stretched, the land of Mongolia tempted me to lie down or run around crazily. It stimulated me so much that I wanted to go all the way to the end of the plains.

On this land, animals such as cows and horses roamed freely. They were free to do whatever they wanted, whether that be eating, running, or sleeping. The many individuals of them spread out widely on their territories and were enjoying their morning. There were camels, too. With the pointy humps on their backs, the camels walked slowly and looked relaxed. I didn't expect to see any camels in Mongolia, so I was surprised.

Standing in the trunk of the pickup truck was really nice. As the truck sped through the scenery, I felt the wind blow at my whole body. Nature was trying to get me into a movement with it.

I suddenly started singing to myself. Everything was so beautiful that I just started to sing. However, a thought came across my mind, which made me stop singing. It was the thought that the man-made music of ours would profane the spectacle. Nature shouldn't be disturbed by my singing; I should just appreciate it. So, I simply shut my mouth and enjoyed everything around me.

Our truck stopped abruptly about two times on the way. There wasn't enough gas. Whenever it stopped, it was so silent that we could hear the nature, rather than the cranky and old engine of the truck. Everything was quiet and peaceful. It felt very comfortable.

I spotted a lot of gers. A ger is a Mongolian yurt that has been used for hundreds and thousands of years. Now, one can see many of them outside the cities in Mongolia. The gers I saw were sitting sparsely in the wild. They were very interesting and I wanted to experience living in a ger. At the same time, though, I wondered how people could live so remotely.

Soon, we arrived at a ger and its family. There was a huge pile of cow manure a good 300 feet away from the yurt. We asked the family if we could take the feces and they said sure.

We started shoveling the poop on to the truck, in the trunk. Different from what I had expected, the manure was hard. When I shoveled, it felt like I was shoveling dirt. It even looked like dirt, too. It wasn't heavy, though. It was light and easy to shovel. The only problem was that it created brown dust that I definitely did not want on my jacket. Still, this was a very novel and unique experience for me. I enjoyed it.

A few minutes into the shoveling, we noticed the front tire of the truck was flat. It wasn't just a small hole; it was completely flat. We couldn't make the trunk heavier; we had to stop shoveling.

Gerard went to the family and asked if they could give us a ride. They said yes, but we had to wait since they had to use it first. It was very nice of them to say yes. We were complete strangers and they were kind enough to drive us back to the city, which was not close at all. I guess Mongolians are just so nice.

As we waited for the ride, we had brunch. Before we ate, though, I got up and ran around. I looked like an energetic dog chasing a ball, but it was fun. Running aimlessly, I was feeling Mongolia. The plains I ran on, the dirt I kicked, and the sky I jumped towards were all so pleasant. The mountains bragged their shoulders and the animals enjoyed their early lunch. I had to do something, I had to run, just because of this view.

We had a roll cake with tea. Ms. Yoo, always prepared, brought the food. We are very lucky to have a volunteer like her. She is always ready and careful. She always has a plan and can act practically. Her food is great and her care is appreciated. She definitely isn't someone who can be found easily.

I brought some slices to the family in the ger. It was my first time seeing inside an actual ger, so I was excited. I politely asked and went in to look around. It certainly was not big, but I'd say it was adequate. It was of leather-like texture supported by wooden columns. The inside was warm and cozy. As the place where they slept and ate, the ger had a bed, carpets, small closets, and even a television and phone chargers-it is amazing how people adapt to any environment. Basically, there was everything that can be found in a bedroom in an apartment. The bathroom was a different building outside.

After eating, I looked around. I walked to the horses and cows and they weren't scared of me. They just kept on eating and minding their own business. The dog the family owned wanted to play, so I threw my gloves, which I rolled into a ball, to play fetch with him. He ran around to fetch the gloves and run away with them. He also bit my leg playfully.

Soon, the car came back and we had to go. I took a look at the surroundings again. It was something I would never forget. It was something I could rarely see, too. It never is available in Korea or America. It is unique and native to this place, Mongolia.

Back at the center, I spotted a bunch of people waiting to go to the Naadam festival. They were waiting for us to get back, since we all had to take the bus to it. I hurriedly got changed and joined the group. We headed to the local stadium in Darkhan, where the celebration was being held.

There were a lot of shops outside the stadium. They sold snacks, food, drinks, souvenirs, and games. There were people everywhere around and in the stadium; I've never seen that many in Mongolia until today.

In the stadium, the traditional dance was being performed. It sort of looked like some martial arts dance from the movies, but surely it was different and Mongolian. The dancers moved their arms slowly according to the music, creating steady movements. They were also dressed in colorful clothes and boots.

Outside the stadium, we played some games. There was a foosball table and all the guys played it. Then, we went to have some food. We had khuushuur, a type of dumpling. Inside it was meat, either beef or mutton. I think ours was beef. Ms. Yoo bought each person a khuushuur. While everyone else ate it very quickly, though, I couldn't eat it well because of its dryness. The khuushuur was really dry and hard to chew or swallow. Without any water, I had to take some time to finish eating it. But, it tasted good; I wanted another one after I was done.

Gerard asked me to follow him. He took me to a car, where his sisters and one of them's son were. As I met them, I said "sam beno" and "bi solongos," which mean "hello" and "I Korean." They greeted me with a smile. We went back with one of his sisters and her son. At one of the shops, she bought me a cup of coke. I was really thankful, because I was very thirsty from the khuushuur.

We were back in the stadium. This time, Mongolian wrestling was going on. Each match was played by two males. It looked intense, as both of them were trying to beat each other. I couldn't see the details, though, because it was happening too far away from me.

One thing I noticed was that people seemed to be more interested in the entertainment outside than the show inside the stadium. There were a lot more people at the shops compared to the people inside. I didn't think it was wrong, but it certainly was odd.

After our time at the festival, we headed to BBQ chicken, a Korean fried chicken chain. The restaurant was in Shin Darkhan, the newer part of Darkhan (the Don Bosco center is in the older part). However, the store was closed for Naadam, so we went to a nearby pizza place. Filling in the empty restaurant, we all sat down. It took a while for our order to come out, since we had so many people there. When it did come out, the pizza was a little greasy for me. It tasted good, but I couldn't eat too much. I just had three slices and that was it.

I spotted one child on my table, he was about eight or nine years old, who refused to eat the pizza. I motioned him to try a slice, but he didn't want any. Sister Agnus, who was sitting next to him, told me that Mongolians don't really eat what they aren't used to eating. She told me pizza wasn't usual to him, so he didn't want to eat it.

After lunch, we came back to the center. Gerard asked me if I wanted to go back to get the truck with the flat tire, and I said sure. James, Gerard, Baga, Norow, and I went. I fell asleep on the way. I just fall asleep too easily when I'm in a car. It just feels comfortable.

We found the truck and got off to switch the tire. We used various tools to carry out our operation. These Mongolian guys were strong. When the car jack fell over, we just lifted the whole truck to put it back under it. After minutes of screwing and pumping, our job was done.

Meanwhile, I looked around. There was literally nothing except grass and dirt nearby. We were in the middle of nowhere like a small dot on a large canvas. It felt really unique to be alone on the plains like that. It felt like I had the whole sky and land to myself.

To head back, I got in the car with James and Norow, while Baga and Gerard took the truck we just took care of. Rushing on the ferocious dirt road, we went back to the farm very quickly. However, the blue truck didn't seem to come. We waited and waited, driving around, but could not see Baga and Gerard. When we tried to call them, we couldn't reach them either. So, we decided to look around. We drove to different places to look for them. It started raining and to get dark, which made it harder.

We came back to the center, first without Baga and Gerard. We went to the church and attended mass for a little. After mass, Norow told Father Simon that the truck was stuck in sand. With gas money Father Simon gave, we went back to the plains to find Baga and Gerard. Timot and a girl went with us. Timot got off on the way.

We looked around for a quite amount of time on the rainy plains. When we finally found the truck, we realized it was completely stuck in the sand. Baga and Gerard were just sitting inside, waiting for our help.

Norow, always the first one to act, got out of the car and tied the two vehicles with a rope. Then, James floored the gas pedal to go forward. It didn't work. We kept on doing the same thing over and over again in the heavy rain, and finally got the truck out. Happy and excited, we all drove back. But then, the truck got stuck once more. Again, we all got out to tie the truck and drove it out.

The time was late after all the work we did. We stopped at Gerard's mom's ger nearby to have some food. We were given tea and some Mongolian cheese. The cheese had a strong, striking taste and smell, and it tasted good with the tea. It was pleasant to see Gerard's mom greet us like that. She welcomed six people with soaked shoes into the ger at such a late hour. I was thankful.

The truck was returned to the farm. On the way back to the center, we picked up Erica, Tungaa, and another girl from downtown. We all talked about things, which I partially understood, and laughed about. Then, we drove each one of them home. Erica lived very far away from the center. I wonder how she manages to get to it everyday. It literally took tens of minutes to get to the center from her house, by car.

It was very dark at the center when I got back. Feeling tired, I looked at the time. It was past 10 p.m. Wow, I've been outside for sixteen hours today. It was a very busy day; but I enjoyed it a lot.
July 11th, 2013

There was no farm work today. Rather, there was a trip to the "countryside." The trip was headed to Gerard's sister's ger. Almost everyone from the center, including Father Simon went on the trip.

Although they call it the countryside, and while it is actually somewhat rural, the countryside isn't that far from Darkhan. A few minutes of driving got us there. It wasn't too detached from the city. Darkhan is like a city in complete nature. There are the plains, rivers, and mountains, inside all of which situates the city. It is just so normal to spot nature's beauty near and in Darkhan.

After a short drive, during which our bus got stuck in the mud, we found ourselves at a ger in the middle of the plains. Gerard's sister, her husband, and their child were there to greet us. The child had really long hair, although he was a boy. I remembered what Ansan had told me about Mongolian babies and their first haircut.

First, we had some food. Gerard's sister prepared a good amount of meat; I think it was beef. There was a big chunk of meat and Father Simon cut it to give us. We just used our hands to eat its pieces, which made it taste even better. I met the Mongolian cheese again, which we ate with the meat.

After a quick lunch, Gerard took us to a nearby river. My friends started taking their shirts off to get ready to jump in. I gave my belongings, including my camera, to Erica, who said she would hold on to them. The younger children were already splashing water in the river. As we got ready, my Mongolian friends and I ran towards and jumped in the river, relishing the fresh water.

The river flew very strong. The current could drive a person away if he couldn't balance himself. It wasn't that easy to swim against the water, so most of the time we walked up the river. If we tried to swim against it, we just got moved back by it.

By the side of the river, there was a big space under it, where we had fun diving. Yelling and jumping, my friends and I all dove in. With the mud painted on our skin, we were wild and fierce. When we made that strong contact with the river, the water delighted our skin.

I got closer to some new guys I met. They weren't the familiar people I met at the center, so I haven't known them. But, as we splashed and dove, we knew we were having a great time. We didn't need to talk, because our smiles just told us we were friends now. I definitely felt friendship in that river.

Later, when we came out of the river, we spotted a Mongolian guy with a horse. He let some of my friends ride the horse around. When Norow saw that, he told me I should go on it. He explained to the guy that I was from Korea and asked him to let me ride it. The Mongolian rider said yes right away and let me on his horse.

The guy controlled the horse. Its speed and direction were strictly managed by him. When he lightly whipped the horse, it ran fast. When he pulled its bridle, the horse moved as he wanted.

As the horse began to run faster, I realized the saddle wasn't soft at all. The horse bounced up and down as it ran and I felt how hard the saddle was. I always thought horse saddles were soft, just like in the movies, but I guess they are completely different in actuality. Yet, the ride was fantastic. I haven't gone on a horse in such a long time, so it was really enjoyable. Plus, I was riding a horse on the Mongolian plains, not at a little event at an amusement park. When the ride was over, I shook hands and thanked the Mongolian by saying "bayarla" and "sam."

We had food again. This time, it was noodles, which were also prepared by Gerard's sister. These were definitely different from what I had tried before. They were like a soup. Mixed with meat and vegetables, the noodles somewhat tasted like Vietnamese rice noodles. All of us ate them in red Coca-Cola cups.

One thing I noticed was that cooking was usually done by females. When I say females, I mean the girls of our group. They aided Gerard's sister in cooking and preparing the food. They did the dishes and did all the other kitchen-related work. Basically, the girls did almost everything relating to food. I thought it was a cultural thing.

Now having full stomachs, we wanted to have some fun. The guys and I were wrestling each other on the grass. Having a giant group of wrestlers, we ran around and tried to tackle each other. Everyone was either falling or attacking. One of us even fell on animal feces.

Then, some of the whole group, including both boys and girls, gathered around a motorcycle. It was a red one and its engine was turned off. Tungaa went on it and we pretended it was moving fast. Just being silly, the rest of us made Tungaa's hair look like it was being blown by the wind. We raised our arms up and moved backwards to make the motorcycle look like it was speeding. Norow and Bilgye were the next ones to go on it and we did the same.

The visit to Gerard's sister's was over now. We all thanked her family and said good-bye. We were all grateful, because they were so nice to a bunch of guests. Back on the bus, we headed to another river, where we would go fishing.

I think it was near Shin Darkhan. There was a bridge above the river and near it we settled. Except, the bus got stuck again. Everyone got off the bus to push it, but it didn't work. This time, it was deep. Plus, since the ground was paved in, it was harder to get it out.

Father Simon told us to chill first. He told us to go fishing and have some fun. I walked along the river with the guys to catch some fish, but we weren't that successful. Spending some time, we did catch a few, though. Most of us just relaxed, eating uncooked ramen and playing Tumus.

Soon, James arrived with the black Toyota. James, just like when we were getting the truck out, tied the car to the bus and accelerated. After many attempts, the bus finally came out. James also helped another car that was stuck. The owners of that car thanked us and gave us some Mongolian beverage.

Then, we ate again! We had a giant pot of cooked ramen. We put the ramen in the coca cola cups and ate it. We sat around, filling our stomachs and relaxing.

I spotted a funny sight there. Under the bridge that was near us, there was a number of horses relaxing. Every one of them was in the shade, staring at the ground or moving its tail. I assumed they did it to escape from the heat and sun. When cars tried to get through, people just honked at them continuously until the horses moved. Then, the horses would go back to their positions.

The day's trip was over. After playing Tumus again, we left for the center. At six o'clock, we attended mass, as usual. So far, I've gone to mass every single day since I got to Darkhan. I am quite amazed. I've been lazy about going to church for a long time and now I'm completely different. For some reason mass isn't boring to me. Despite attending it everyday, I am glad.
July 12th, 2013

Today was an ordinary Friday and there was farm work. However, I couldn't hear the alarm in the early morning and woke up too late for farm. I woke up at about six thirty. As soon as I looked at my phone after I woke up, I realized I've been late again. That was my second time.

Just in case Father Simon might come back, I got up and went to the first floor. There, I sat and waited for about four hours. Waiting on the orange couch, I lied down when I was feeling sleepy, and sat up to look outside when I heard something. Still, there was no sign of Father Simon or his bus.

However, I did see Father Paul and the two Sisters. They all looked quite busy. As they rushed through the door, I asked what was going on. Father Paul told me Sister Hanako and Agnus were going to Ulaanbaatar, the capital. He said they had a meeting there. I wondered what kind of meeting nuns would have. I assumed it was about Catholicism, obviously.

As she spotted me in the lobby, Sister Hanako smiled at me as usual. She always has a smile. It is amazing how happy she is all the time. I've never seen her frustrated or mad. She is a type of person that makes everyone pleasant. Before she went out the door, Sister Hanako joked that I was the guard there, since I was the only person there at the time.

Sister Agnus also saw me. She greeted me. Since she didn't have the time, she asked me to throw out some trash. I said sure. Sister Agnus somewhat rushes when she speaks. It seems as though she tries to let out more words than she can at a moment. It isn't anything bad, but it is quite noticeable. Maybe, she just likes talking to people, which I see her do all the time.

Then, all of them left. I think I was the only person in the center until Ms. Yoo came back from Sirenoro. I saw her behind the gate, which was closed. She tried to open the gate, but she failed. Luckily, I spotted her and walked over. Greeting her, I opened the heavy gate for her and she said it was very fortunate. She was surprised to see me, saying that she didn't even notice my absence at the farm. She also asked me how I knew she was here and joked that there was telepathy between us.

She and I went inside the building. Sitting on the couches, we rested for a little in the lobby. She asked me if I was too tired to come to the farm from yesterday's trip. I told her I completely didn't hear my alarm. She told me there wasn't that much work anyways today and went upstairs to take a rest.

I am constantly amazed how Ms. Yoo manages to do what she does. She is always busy with doing things. For example, every morning on the weekdays, she works at the farm. She, with some other girls, prepare lunch for the children at the farm. At the center, she does other work that needs her hands and makes dinner every evening. Wow, it is incredible.

A few hours later Father Simon and Tsolmo came back. I said hi to Tsolmo. He looked very tired. I assumed everyone had done too much yesterday.

Ms. Yoo prepared lunch for us, so I went to get Father Simon and Paul. When I stepped into his office, I apologized to Father Simon for missing farm work. He said it was completely fine. He said he would be in the dining room in a short moment. On the other hand, Father Paul was doing something in the church, so I figured I shouldn't interrupt him. I told Ms. Yoo about it and she said she would go get him herself.

Four of us had a really quiet lunch. I didn't know why we didn't talk, but everyone was pretty much silent. Of course, lunch was short, too. Afterwards we did the dishes and cleaned the table. We all left shortly.

In that afternoon, there weren't that many children coming to the center. I guess a lot of them wanted to rest. Nothing really happened that afternoon, except that I texted Clare, which has become an everyday activity, and took a nap.
July 13th, 2013

Gerard had asked me before if I wanted to go fishing today. I said yes, since I thought it would be fun. I've never gone fishing before. We were scheduled to leave at five in the morning. I woke up at about four twenty, not to be late.

Downstairs, I saw Gerard and Norow asleep. They were wrapped in blankets, right outside the front door. I wondered why they slept outside. It must have been very cold. Anyways, I didn't want to disrupt them, so I waited on a chair, going through some pictures on my camera.

Minutes later Gerard woke up and said good morning. He suddenly reached to a shelf to get something. He then gave it to me; it was a jacket. It wasn't just a jacket, though. It was a traditional Mongolian jacket. I guess it somewhat resembled a varsity jacket, except it didn't have any sleeves. It was very soft and light, yet thick enough to keep one warm. Design-wise, it was gray on the outside and yellowish-gold on the inside. Instead of buttons, the jacket had some knots that went into loops to close it.

He told me it was made by his mom. Remembering him saying he would give me a traditional clothing, I was really thankful. I was receiving more than I gave here.

Soon, Gerard and I got in the car. There, I met a Mongolian guy, a Korean construction volunteer, and James. Norow wasn't coming. When I asked him why, he said he was going to Sirenoro today. So, Norow stayed and the others and I left.

On our way, we picked up another Mongolian guy; I remembered him with his child during mass one day. With the two big Mongolians, back seat was squeezed. But, it was no big deal.

Driving on some dirt roads, we arrived at a sizable lake. We got off with all the equipment we brought. Each person got a fishing pole. I extended mine and loosened the wire, or string, whatever it's called. From the half-cut water bottle, I took out a worm to use it as a bait. As everyone got ready, we spread out for good spots.

As it was my first time, I had no idea how to use the pole. I observed the other guys do it like professionals to learn. They caught a fish every minute. Imitating them, I casted my fishing pole. Throwing my arm, I dropped the hook in the lake. However, compared to the dramatic movement I made, the reality was pathetic. The hook situated right in front of me, where the water was maybe about an inch deep. Everyone was laughing, telling me the correct way to do it.

Then, Gerard helped me. He showed me how to cast the fishing pole and how to hook a bait correctly. Thanks to him, I got better. In a short time, I was doing it right, although it was amateurish.

It was fun learning how to fish. I didn't know anything, but after watching the guys and asking, I got the hang of it. Once you put in the bait, you wait until the little plastic thing suddenly goes down. That means a fish got caught. Then with adequate amount of strength, you pull it out. In the beginning I did it too strong and the fish was ripped from the hook and got away. After a few tries I got better.

When a fish was taken out of the water, it flipped crazily. It was actually my first time seeing a fish like that. It was completely different from the sushi I had had at my local restaurant. When I actually touched a fish, it felt chunky. This was also different from what I had expected.

A little later, when I was focusing, I dropped my foot into a puddle. My shoe, sock, and bottom of my sweatpants were completely soaked. I took off my shoe to let it dry, but left the sock on.

There was almost another accident. This time, it wasn't just my shoe. As I casted my fishing pole, I lost balance on the rock I was stepping on. Wiggling like a spring, I tried not to fall in the water. Only a few inches before falling in, I managed to back off. That was very close. The guys laughed. They yelled out "Michael, be careful!"

We fished for almost four hours. I didn't even realize the time had passed that much. It was that fun. Yet, I only caught three fish, while the other guys were catching a lot. Still, I enjoyed it very much. It was a very nice experience for me. Each time I caught a fish, I was thrilled. My camera will remind me, since it has the three pictures of the fish.

In the end, we gathered our fish. The five-pack ramen bags were full of the fish we caught. There were a lot. With the fish, we headed back for the center.

We made it right in time for the ten o'clock mass. I took a quick shower and got ready for it.

Today, there were a lot more people at the mass than before. I saw all the children and a lot of adults I didn't recognize. As usual, before mass we said some prayers. But, during mass, I was surprised. During the "Lord, hear our prayer" section, people said impromptu prayers. They took turns to say something, which I didn't understand. I assumed they were freely praying for something personal. My evidence for the impromptu prayers was that the people who spoke didn't have anything written down. Some of them even had their eyes closed. So, wouldn't that clarify that the prayers were ad-libbed? I thought it was unique and creative, as I'd never seen this at any church.

When money was to be collected, which only happens at weekend masses, I noticed a quite cultural characteristic. Now, I'm not sure if it is cultural. But, it is definitely distinctive. When people put in their money in the collection basket, they covered entirely the paper bills. It looked like they were closing their fists with the money in their hands. As everyone did that, I realized it had to do with this community and its people, not just one person. I assumed the purpose of this practice was to be respectful in the church. By not revealing the sight of money, people could respect mass.

The organ was played by a girl named Khulan, instead of Sister Hanako, since she was away. She played it well. She also was a good singer. Her voice was perfect for singing and she used it skillfully. Her songs were clear and loud.

Afternoon was normal. I just hung out with some friends and took a nice nap. Nothing big happened, just ordinary stuff, except that I taught Tungaa how to play the clarinet.

Just like Sister Agnus, Tungaa started with making a sound. I told her the correct position and method to play the instrument. Although she was just a beginner, she was eager to learn. I think she also enjoyed it. She constantly laughed and tried very hard. For now, we agreed to memorize the finger positions first.

It is funny how playing volleyball and soccer with Mongolians became "ordinary stuff." Interacting with Mongolians everyday by playing sports and simply talking was a completely normal to me. It feels like I've been doing this all my life and I've been here forever. Nothing feels foreign or weird; Darkhan feels like home to me.

July 14th, 2013

I woke up right before the 10 o'clock mass. I guess I was tired or just merely lazy. I hurriedly got up, readied, and ran to mass. Yet, I managed to get to church about five minutes before it started. Woah, that was the latest I've woken up since I came to Darkhan.

Mass was usual. But, as Father Simon led it, he made funny comments. He always jokes about things, of course not during mass, but during lecture or after mass. He smiles and says something, which makes other people laugh. It is a nice way to engage with the people during mass. Often priests are hard to approach or boring to people. But, at Maria Auxilium Parish of Darkhan, priests are friendly and masses are engaging.

It's even funnier because Father Simon does it. I used to think that he was a speechless person. His expressions are simple and sometimes they even make it hard for others to talk to him. I did not expect him to tell jokes. However, this thought changed. He loved talking and he liked to entertain people at church.

After mass, there was the usual snack time. As many people were in the lobby for the breadsticks and tea, there weren't enough seats. Children yielded the chairs and couches to the seniors and adults. It was a nice thing to see.

Today, Ms. Yoo was sick. Thus, there wasn't anyone to cook. I was sorry for her, since she probably became sick from all the work she did for us. Sister Agnus said she would cook, but she had a meeting. So, it was up to me. The lunch for seven people today was in my hands.

Before the meeting, Sister Agnus gave me the ingredients. I received some eggs, sausages, mushrooms, and tomatoes. I brought them upstairs and started cooking.

"Let's not make this too bad," I thought, for I knew my food wouldn't be good. Early in my life, I realized I couldn't cook. Ironically, at some point in my childhood, I dreamt to be a chef. However, whenever I tried to make food for someone or even myself, it didn't end up well. I often even failed to fry an egg properly, which is probably one of the easiest things to do in life. It's a good thing I gave up being a chef early.

Anyways, with worry, I cooked the sausages first. I let them on the fry pan with some oil. It seemed as if it would be an easy task, but it wasn't to me. The problem was that while the part that touched the pan cooked well, the other sides weren't. Thus, when I tried to make sure those other sides were being cooked, that one part would burn due to its exposure to the pan. It was even funny, because I was so bad at cooking.

I texted Clare about this. I told her how bad I am at making food and that I was to cook for seven people. She laughed, thinking that the situation was funny. She joked that she didn't hope to hear any bad news about the food. Then, she said she would cook for me when she sees me next year. I told her I would love to eat her food, as she said she can cook well. It even turned out that the food I had with my Hong Kong friends was cooked by her.

Focusing on the lunch again, I took out all the side dishes from the fridge and put them on the table. After the sausages, I made my tomato mushroom dish, which I occasionally made for myself and my cousins in America as a snack. It basically was mushroom and tomato fried together. I thought of a healthy and tasty snack for us to eat in the U.S., and I came up with this.

Anyways, I made that. However, when Sister Agnus came to check if everything was going alright, she awkwardly smiled at my food. I could tell her she didn't love it. She was just being nice by not saying anything about my food. I admit, though, it did not look good and smelled too much like tomatoes.

Sister Agnus then turned into a chef. She started cooking and I realized our lunch wasn't ruined anymore. She was very good. Trying to make omelets, she chopped onions and other vegetables. She asked me to get the eggs, which we made scrambled eggs with. Adding all the vegetables to the egg, we succeeded in making the omelets.

She laughed at her own food, saying it looked bad. What was she thinking? It was perfect! Compared to my food, her dish was a five-star hotel's. I told her it was a lot better than mine. Then, I proposed a competition. The competition was to locate our dishes side by side on the table and see which one would be more popular. We wouldn't mention who made which food, but just see how much others eat. She laughed at my suggestion and said yes.

When everyone came to have lunch, nothing went wrong. We just thought we were having lunch as usual. No one seemed to dislike the food, which I was glad for. We had to give the security guard lunch, so I delivered some to him.

Sunday is the day when all the Sisters and Fathers eat together. All the other days, the nuns eat in their own room. I don't know why. But, I like having food all together. It is pretty fun and there are so many things to talk about. I wish we could eat together everyday, although that would have a lot of dishes to do.

Later we didn't mention the competition of the food. We did the dishes, cleaned up, and left. I took a short nap and went outside to play. Soon after I came back to finish my AP European History homework that I had to submit online. Boring homework, really. It wasn't fun doing school work in Mongolia.

At about six twenty in the evening, I met with Gerard and Tungaa to have a clarinet lesson. Gerard wanted to play it at the summer camp, which is tomorrow, but we didn't have enough time. I tried to teach him as much as I could, but the time factor played a key role.

We practiced in the chapel. Tungaa remembered from yesterday how to play the notes from lower e to normal g. She still had problems with finger positions, as she couldn't fully cover the holes for clear sounds. Overall, though, she was doing fine.

Gerard could make a sound right away, unlike some beginners. It was great progress from the start, but he couldn't get the finger positions right either, like Tungaa. Once both of them get their fingerings right, they will do well. The sound will be improved and they will be able to play songs. When that day comes, I really hope that they will teach the others, spreading their talents to more people to make playing the clarinet a common activity and interest at the center.

Just for fun, we played the clarinets on the balcony of the chapel. There were people outside and we just blew random noises. I played a song called "Sugar," a jazz song. Basically, we just fooled around, making the people outside and ourselves laugh.

About an hour later, the lesson was over and we parted for dinner.
July 15th, 2013

Today is the beginning of summer camp. Many of the teenagers at the center are gone for the trip. However, I stayed to help at the farm, with the younger children. So, as usual, we gathered downstairs to head to Sirenoro.

On the way, we picked up Timot and Norow's mom. At the farm the children read books for a while. Father Simon was talking to them, probably saying funny things, because I saw the kids laugh.

Father Simon told me to water the pumpkins next to the kitchen. I did it with Timot. We used a hose to water them, taking turns to use the hose. A few minutes into the work, Timot gave me a piece of candy. Meanwhile, the other children were picking out weed and Zorgo, the guy who was helping us today, was watering some other plants. Ms. Yoo and Norow's mom were doing something else.

I didn't think that there was a lot to do today. Father Simon even told me watering was enough even before we were half-done. He just told me it was fine. So I started picking out weed and took some rest.

Kids were talking and having fun, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. They were interested in me, asking questions and laughing. I just used my poor Mongolian vocabulary, keep saying "ja, yu, and ogui," which mean "okay, what, and no." As the children were just playing, though, Father Simon told one of them to be dilligent. He somewhat scorned the kid for not working at all. I'd never seen him yell at anyone, so I assumed it was serious.

Lunch at the farm was yogurt mixed with jelly. It didn't look the nicest, but when I tried the food, the yogurt, jelly, and bread went along amazingly. I enjoyed the lunch. The kids there told me I had to lick the bowl after finishing eating. They all did that, showing me that was what one was supposed to do. Being watched by lighthearted kids, I licked my bowl, finishing my yogurt.

Soon we got back to the center. On the way, the children got off by a river. I think they wanted to play. When I got back, I joined another lunch with the employees, as I was hungry. Lunch at the center was some Mongolian soup with bread and rice. The soup was a little greasy, but with the vegetables, it tasted good. The bread I ate with the soup made it even better. I was glad, since I hadn't had Mongolian food for almost a week, because the employees, including the cook, had been absent due to Naadam holidays.

At about two thirty in the afternoon, I went outside to play soccer with Timujin. I beat him in one on one; the score was four to three. Soon, Timot and some other children joined us and we had a game.

Later, the kids took me to the back of the center, near corner of the surrounding wall. I didn't know where we were going, but I followed. There, we found a small hole in the ground. When I looked closely, I spotted a small porcupine. It was curled up in his little place. The kids pretended to push each other to the porcupine to scare each other. I thought it was impressive that they found this little creature there.

Mass was attended by less people today, as many were at summer camp. That included Father Paul and the two Sisters. So, Father Simon was leading it alone. No one played the organ and the choir, which is made up of my Mongolian friends, wasn't there. Yet, people sang voluntarily. Even with less people, everyone was focused and respectful.

After the mass, a nun, not from our center, came to me. She asked me why I didn't go to the summer camp. Well, I didn't really have a reason for not going, except that I didn't know about it until the day before. I just told her there wasn't a specific reason. Then, she told me about another Korean volunteer, a Korean American guy, who had come to Darkhan before. He was of about my age. After our little conversation, we parted and I went back to the center.

In the front yard, I saw some guys who were playing basketball. They were three, so they asked me to join them, and I did. I teamed with one of the men I see at the center often. He was the tallest and the best. He and I made a great team and we played very well. The other team was of a guy of about my age and a younger one. Later, we switched teammates and played more.

Upstairs, Ms. Yoo was cooking. She told me she had made food for tomorrow, when she will not be here. She's scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon for Korea. The problem is, though, she couldn't get her visa to come back. She has done it too many times and the Mongolian embassy is refusing to give another one. Using three-month visas, Ms. Yoo has been going back and forth between Mongolia and Korea multiple times, for years. Usually, after three months of her stay is done, she goes back to Korea to get another visa to come back. Wow, that is persistent and motivated.

Today, there is a new guy staying at the center. He lives near the center, I think, at least in Darkhan he lives. Anyways, he asked Father Simon if he could stay for two nights at the lobby. Father Simon said yes. He's probably downstairs in the lobby right now.

After dinner we did the dishes and I came back to my room. I'm texting Clare and I'll go to bed soon. I feel sorry for always cutting off the conversation with her, though. I always have to sleep while we talk, because of the farm work I have early in the morning. Thankfully, she understands it.
July 16th, 2013

Early morning farm work! I got up, had simple breakfast, and went outside for the bus. Little kids were already there waiting. Ms. Yoo was already at the farm, even though today was her last day in Darkhan. We don't know when she will come back.

Today, Father Simon had something special for me to do. Instead of weeding or watering, I helped with bagging up the cabbages. The cabbages were grown at the farm and they were going to be sold. The cabbages were as big as tree trunks. Also, each sack could hold from five to seven cabbages.

We worked in pairs, because while someone held the bag, the other had to put in the cabbages. It was a two-person work. I worked with Father Simon and Dashnam, a relatively new guy I met, worked with Norow's mom. As I worked, I rolled down each bag and rolled it up as we filled it with cabbages. I tried my best to be fast as everyone was working quickly.

The greenhouse in which the cabbages were, which was made of vinyl, was very hot and humid. Only a few minutes of working in it made me sweat a lot. I guess that is the purpose of the house, though; to provide with the best environment for the vegetables. When we were taking some rest, I went outside to cool myself.

Soon, we've bagged up many rows of cabbages. Zorgo was tying the sacks on the top with some wires to make sure the cabbages didn't fall out. What he was doing looked tedious. It required intricacy and a lot of twisting of the wires. It also looked funny that a big man was concentrating on such details.

After everything was done-both putting in the cabbages and tying up the bags, we now had to weigh the bags. All those cabbages made the sacks heavy, but we could handle them. Even the little kids carried them to the scale. I thought it was good to carry the bags, since it was like a work-out.

As we began weighing the sacks, we started from bag number one. Bringing more and more cabbages on the scale, we got up to bag ninety in the end. I had not expected that many. It looked very different from when the cabbages were neatly organized in the greenhouse.

Father Simon told me one kilogram of the cabbages was about 1200 won in Korean currency, which is about a dollar in the U.S. The average weight of one bag was about seventeen kilograms, so pricing all ninety bags was a great deal of money. I was surprised by the amount; I never thought farming could bring in this much money. But, obviously, a lot of that financial gains would be used to farm first.

After the ninetieth bag, we moved on to the lettuce. Just like how we did for the cabbages, we put the lettuce in sacks. These were lighter than the cabbage bags. Some of the lettuce were green while some were red. For the work, I cut the lettuce off their roots, Ms. Yoo took off the bad parts, and we all put them in the bags.

It was interesting how Ms. Yoo identified the "bad parts" of the lettuce. Very quickly, she cut off and trimmed them. She definitely was very experienced with farming. I remembered where she said she is from. Yeoncheon, she told me once. It made sense, that is a rural town in Korea.

Two vans came in to the farm. They were there to pick up the items, the cabbages and lettuce. The cabbages were being sold for money, but the lettuce was going to BBQ, the Korean fried chicken chain, for free. I didn't know why BBQ got it for free, but Father Simon just told me it did.

In the end, the vans were completely full with the bags. There was basically no room in the two cars for any passenger. Ninety bags of cabbages and about fifty, I think, of lettuce, each bag about two feet high, took up a lot of space.

For lunch, we had yogurt and strawberry jelly again. Everyone liked it after having worked for hours, including me, Zorgo, and the children.

After lunch, there was a child who was doing the dishes. He did it without complaining as if he wanted to do it. Despite the young age, he was mature. However, I only realized the boy's reality after Father Simon told me about him. The kid, whose name I will not disclose, did not have a happy family. His father drinks a lot and his family isn't organized. He told me his personality and temper are affected by that, but at the same time he is a diligent child. I feel that the people at the center aren't from the most fortunate families. Still, I am glad to see them smile everyday and I appreciate them treating me as a family.

Back at the center, Ms. Yoo was getting ready to leave. She asked me if I could move a heavy box to the car so I said sure. We had a little conversation about the flights. She said she has to wait a long time for a bus at the airport in Incheon, the destination in Korea. I wished her a good flight and she said some good things about me.

I actually didn't get to say a proper good-bye. She left when I couldn't see her. Instead, I found an apple on my door knob at my room. It was the apple she asked me if I wanted it a few minutes before she left. Just looking at the apple, I already thought about her. She was like an aunt to me and everyone else at the center. That was why my friends called her "emonim," which literally means "aunt." Such a great person, she is, and she will be missed by many people here. Now that she is gone, I feel sad.

As far as lunch went, I wasn't ready by the time when the employees were having it. Father Simon missed it, too. So, both of us went upstairs to the dining room and had leftover food that Ms. Yoo had made for us. Damn, we were eating her food without her sitting next to us.

It was after mass when another big event happened. There were three people, two men and one woman, outside the church with their bikes. The bikers were in uniforms that looked like those in biking competitions, the ones that had many logos and words on. On their uniforms it said "Polska." I asked if they were from Poland and they said yes. Their massive bikes were a big interest to the children, who gathered around them to say things in Mongolian that they didn't understand.

The bikers were here to ask to stay for the night. They explained to Father Simon who they are and what they are doing, and he easily allowed to stay. We scheduled to have dinner together.

In the dining room, we talked about each other. They asked me who I was, so I introduced myself as a "Korean student in America who's visiting Mongolia." I hope they understood it easily. Father Simon talked about our community, its people and purpose.

The three Polish told us their story. They are students who initially went on a biking trip with a group of other people. The group rode together in Poland. However, when their trip was over, the three wanted to bike more. So, they made their own team and started their journey from Poland. Starting off in their own country, they crossed Eastern Europe, Siberia, and arrived at Mongolia. Their final destination is Beijing, from where they will take the plane back to Poland. They also talked about what they saw and felt. They smiled as they remembered how endless the forests were in Siberia. The dangerous roads at night were also interesting.

The dinner was over. I was glad that they liked the Korean supper. However, I did notice that their forks went more to meat than to vegetables.

After doing the dishes, I thought about the bikers for a while. In Darkhan, I was meeting so many different people. At first, it was my Mongolian friends. Then, my Hong Kong friends. The nuns from India and Japan added to the variety. Lastly, the three Polish bikers. However, as different as we could be, we all got along. We felt no difficulties in understanding each other and simply regarded as friends. As human beings, we enjoyed our interactions. I really was experiencing a lot in a short amount of time.
July 17th, 2013

I remembered that I was going to get cow manure again. Father Simon told me I would be going with Zorgo. Taking the same blue pickup truck, I went with Zorgo, Ottombayer, a little kid, and Dashnam.

On the way to the place, we all sat in the front. Dashnam, Ottombayer, and I were squeezed as we had to sit in one and a half seat. But we all could take it.

I took some videos and pictures of the sceneries I saw on the way. The plains, mountains, sky, and animals were all good materials to take great photographs of. Except, the truck was shaking a lot, so pictures didn't work that well. I mainly took videos, changing the position of my hand holding the camera so that it reflected different viewpoints. Unfortunately, though, I didn't see the best scene I had seen before.

While I didn't remember where the house we had gone to before was, Zorgo found it easily. There, I saw and remembered the dog, the husband and wife, the animals, and the gers. It was a different feeling from last time, though. I felt like I was at somewhere more familiar.

Anyways, arriving at the pile of feces, we shoveled it onto the truck. Meanwhile, Dashnam made me laugh, because he was fooling around. He was talking and moving a lot, walking around the pile. When we shoveled enough from one pile, we moved on to the next one.

However, the lady from the ger came by and told us something. Assuming that Zorgo said we should go somewhere else, I thought that the lady said we couldn't take anymore. So, we drove away to find a new spot. Before we left, Dashnam and Ottombayer went on the truck. They posed like kings, standing on the manure we just shoveled. We thought it was funny, so I took a picture of them.

Since the truck was almost full, we went back to Sirenoro. There, Zorgo used a little device in the truck, which I have no idea is called, to lift the trunk. The manure we brought fell on the existing pile right outside the farm. We got some jelly sandwiches to fill our empty stomachs and left again.

On the way back to the farm from the second trip, Zorgo stopped the truck near a river. He looked at me and said "swimming" with a smile. Hell yeah. We all went down to the river to swim. The downhill was warm sand, which was heated by the sun. My feet felt very nice as the warmth was delivered to them.

We all jumped in the river. The cold water greeted and compensated for our hard work. The stream was flowing fast, so everything was being cleaned off my body. Because the water was shallow, though, we didn't get to swim much. We just enjoyed the river, sitting there and splashing at each other.

A little down the river from where we were, there was a group of horses. The horses, which looked untamed, were crossing the river. They looked somewhat careful, as they crossed slowly. Also, rather than a straight line, they were crossing as a cluster. Big and wild animals crossing a river was not an ordinary sight. It was like a documentary film on National Geographic. Once again I appreciated Mongolia's clean nature.

We got out of the river and dried ourselves. Thanks to Mongolia's dry weather, it didn't take so long. Still, my clothes were wet, but I assumed they would dry in a short time. On the way back, Dashnam got in the trunk and the rest sat in the front.

As we went back, Zorgo did something special for Ottombayer. He let him steer the wheel. The kid, as soon as he grabbed the steering wheel, had a very serious and nervous look on his face. It was quite funny. With Zorgo's help, Ottombayer did fairly well. I asked if I could drive the truck, but our communication didn't work out.

When we got back to the farm, we were greeted with lunch, which was ramen today. Although it wasn't the best cooked ramen, it tasted perfectly fine. To the Mongolian kids it was spicy; a lot of them were frequently drinking water. I had a bowl of it, but didn't want more. I knew I could have lunch again at the center. After the pleasant food, we went back to the center.

As soon as I got to my room, I took a shower. Since I haven't got warm water for a few days, the shower was very cold. However, it is always the beginning of the shower that troubles me. Once I get used to the cold water each time I take a shower, my body adjusts to it. But, when I first let my feet into the shower handle's ray, they feel like they will freeze and fall off. After my feet get used to it, I move the handle up. Still, cold water isn't bad. It actually feels nice after a cold shower.

After the shower, I went downstairs for lunch. However, the employees were eating already. I didn't want to walk in and disturb them in the middle of their meal, so I just decided not to have another lunch. Ramen made me full and sleepy anyways.

I remembered the 1000 togrog, which is Mongolian currency, Father Simon gave me before at the Naadam festival. I took that out with some more Mongolian money my mom had given me before. Carrying all of them, since I had no idea how much anything was here, I went to the supermarket Mr. Wong had taken me to before. There, I tried to find the chocolate ice cream he told me about, but there wasn't any of it to be found. So I just found a different chocolate ice cream that looked appealing. I bought that and an apple juice.

The cashier didn't seem to realize I was a foreigner. When she told me the price in Mongolian, I gave her everything I had, because I didn't know how much she was saying. Then, she looked at me and said the price again, as if I simply misheard her. She thought rather than not understanding her words, I just didn't hear her correctly. Plus, me saying "bayarla" with a perfect Mongolian accent made me look more Mongolian.

Oddly, the price I had to pay didn't match the price indicated at the aisles. I paid a cheaper price.

The street right outside the supermarket looked busier than that in front of the center. While the center is only next to some apartments, this road was surrounded by stores and people. I saw many people either walk around or drive cars. The stores had different signs, from a green cross indicating a pharmacy to a Coca Cola picture showing a convenient store. For once more, I felt like I was truly in a city. The first time was when I went there with Mr. Wong.

There is a lot of sand in Darkhan. As I walked around, even on the streets, my shoes filled with sand inside. Still, I didn't hate it. I enjoyed the sand; I enjoyed Darkhan.

Back at the center, some kids were keep talking to me in Mongolian. They looked like they were at oldest ten years old. I tried to have some conversations with them, saying words I knew and listening to them carefully. I appreciated their interest in me.

Later I went back upstairs. I took a nap, went to mass, and texted Clare. It's amazing, we've been texting everyday. That is it for today, I guess.

July 18th, 2013

I was extremely tired last night, but somehow I woke up early today, even earlier than yesterday. I felt very fresh, too. The only thing that bothered me was that I had to battle two mosquitos at two o'clock in the morning. For hours they were bugging me and obviously, biting me. In the middle of the night, when I couldn't take it anymore, I got up and turned the light on. With my bare hands, I tried to fight the two intruders. I don't know if I actually killed any one of them, but I did hit them with my hands. I was stressed. Really? Two in the morning when I have farm work in four hours, I'm looking for mosquitos. Anyways, after that I went back to bed, hearing the train driver make announcements very loudly, as usual.

In the morning after I had my simple breakfast and went outside to meet everyone else. Today, we were taking two cars. I got in the red SUV, the one Ms. Yoo always used. Zorgo drove it.

On the way to Sirenoro, the two cars lost each other. Zorgo was driving around to look for Father Simon's. After spending a few minutes, we found each other and all headed to the farm.

After the usual reading time, Father Simon told me to go with some guys to get sand. Sand? I didn't know why we needed sand, but I didn't ask. I went with four other guys, three of whom were little kids. Zorgo, some kid, Ottombayer, another some kid, and I went in the truck. The three children got in the trunk.

We drove for only a little until we found a small sand cliff. I see a lot of those in Mongolia. I thought I would be seeing them near the Gobi desert, but even in Darkhan, there are sand cliffs. Some are big and steep while some are small as dirt piles. The big ones create spectacular sceneries. The sand is really warm and soft, too. Yet, it was different from beach sand.

We didn't take too much sand. The amount we shoveled didn't even half-fill the trunk. I assumed we didn't need too much, especially after Zorgo told me I could stop shoveling. We brought that back to the farm and left again for cow manure.

Instead of going to the ger we went before, we looked for new places. The first stop we arrived at was in the middle of nowhere, literally. There was nothing near it. No ger, no people, not even animals, except a dead cow. It must have gotten lost from its group or been a wild one starving. The giant corpse was lying on the ground, almost bony with its fat and skin peeling off. Flies were hovering around the dead creature. On the other hand, its teeth were white and shiny. They looked very clean.

Anyways, the feces there wasn't too good. Zorgo drove to somewhere else, where we found bad manure again. We drove around more to find a good spot. Meanwhile, the warm weather and beautiful view of the plains lured me to sleep.

Zorgo stopped to ask some people for a good spot. Every time he did that, though, the people didn't seem to know. We drove and drove, without any accomplishment. Then, we found the perfect place.

At the spot we arrived, there were piles of manure, almost in a pattern. It even looked artificial, as if someone meant to organize the feces like that. The feces was arranged into different piles that looked like mini pyramids. One thing I was sure was that it couldn't have been the cows. With what we found, we went back to Sirenoro.

I didn't notice how far we had gone until we were going back to the farm. It was a great distance. After driving for a long time we finally got back. Still, the ride showed me the nature of Mongolia and I liked it.

Back in Sirenoro, I saw a bunch of girls making kimchi, with the help of Father Simon. Although very young and small, the girls were responsible and good at making it. They seemed to enjoy it, too. Without any complaints, they faithfully finished the task.

Lunch was rice, kimchi, boiled eggs, and cucumbers. Honestly, I don't really like cucumbers. It's just that they smell bad to me. I like other vegetables or fruit, but cucumbers are not my favorite. But, rice with kimchi and eggs was nice. Kimchi and eggs together, especially, was fantastic. It was my first time realizing that.

After lunch, during which all the Mongolians were drinking a lot of water because of kimchi's spiciness, Father Simon asked me to wash some kimchi. While I did that, Father Simon shoveled some cow manure in the greenhouse. Then, we left for the center with the kimchi the girls made today at the farm.

I took an ice-cold shower. Then, I quickly ran downstairs, because I didn't want to miss lunch. Lunch at the center today was some Mongolian soup with rice and the bread, which I think we had on Monday. The employees gave me a lot of soup, so there was no need for me to eat the bread. The soup was enough to fill my stomach.

After lunch, I wanted to go buy some ice cream at the supermarket again. I went to Father Simon to exchange some Korean money for Mongolian. He jokingly teased me for buying only for myself, so I asked him if I should buy more for others. He said it was fine.

Instead of exchanging the money, though, he just gave me a 10000-togrog bill. As soon as I saw that, I noticed that there are no coins in Mongolia. Everything is in bills. I thought it could be inconvenient, but I assumed it was fine for Mongolians. It's only a little difference from what I'm used to. Another thing was that the "1" on the bill looked unique. On one side of the bill, the "1" looked like a curved "9." I thought it was cool. The traditional Mongolian script made it look even better.

This time, I took pictures as I walked to the supermarket. I also went into some other streets where I found a lot of buildings, mainly apartments. I even looked inside the buildings to see how it was like. The buildings didn't look the cleanest, but it was okay. It was mere difference, not incorrectness. It shouldn't be seen as something bad. I came back with an ice cream and a bottle of sprite. I gave the change to Father Simon.

When I got to my room, I saw Clare's message. So, I took my laptop, sprite, and phone to the fifth floor dining room, where the WiFi connection was stronger. Although I tried to type my book, I couldn't concentrate, because we were texting so much. Talking about random and various things, we didn't even realize how much time passed.

After about two hours, I heard a lot of voices and saw my friends who just got back from summer camp. I went downstairs to meet them. Gerard greeted me with a handshake, and so did Norow. Some of them told me they missed me.

They looked like they had a great time at summer camp. They were all laughing and joking, playing games even after coming back. Some of them left for home right away while others stayed.

Timot asked me if I wanted to play soccer. I said yes and went to the field, which is actually a large concrete floor. Although we had fun, we didn't play that much. Baga wasn't doing so well in soccer today, either. The game ended soon and we just got ready for mass.

After mass, I asked Sister Agnus if she would like to have a clarinet lesson with Gerard, since Tungaa was sick today. She said sure and we agreed to have it in the classroom, because Gerard insisted we do it there.

There were some other friends of mine who came to the classroom. There were Norow, Erica, Tungaa, and two or three other girls. We were having fun, playing with the clarinets, making funny noises. I was sort of teaching them how to make a sound. Surprisingly, Erica and Norow made a sound relatively easily. Pressing random keys, they played some notes. It was also funny when Norow made a sound with his mouth, not the instrument. His face along with the action was hilarious.

Norow is a really funny guy. He's one of the funniest people I've met. Although I can barely communicate with him fully, he always makes me laugh. He is that kind of person who makes the mood and everyone happy. He doesn't even have to try to be funny. It's just natural for him to be funny. Plus, his creativity and originality help him to draw laughter from others.

Everyone seemed to be interested in the clarinets. They were curious, touching and looking at the clarinets. I was happy to share them with them. Again, I really hoped that Gerard, Tungaa, and Sister Agnus can teach everyone else when I'm gone.

Meanwhile, Gerard showed improvement. He now made better sounds, especially from G to all the way down to lower E. His problem was that, though, he couldn't go up the scale. He kept having trouble playing the higher notes. I told him he has to practice blowing the clarinet harder and have the right fingerings. Still, the higher notes have simple finger positions, so it shouldn't be too hard.

Some girl asked me to play a song from the clarinet book. It was Ave Maria, a classical. I played it in front of them, trying my best. Some parts of the song didn't go too smoothly, but overall it was an average performance.

Soon, Sister Agnus came to the classroom. She didn't want to share the clarinet with too many people at the same time. I don't blame her. There were a lot of people using the same clarinet. She told me she would take the lesson tomorrow afternoon.

For the next forty minutes I taught Gerard. But, since he is leaving for Ulaanbataar at midnight, he said he won't be able to have a lesson tomorrow. That was a problem. It is actually my fault for not beginning the lessons earlier. Now, we didn't have enough time. Saturday and barely Sunday are the only practice days left. I told him to practice until he left for Ulaanbaatar and leave the instrument in the classroom, under the piano, so I can teach others. When I asked Erica if she wanted to learn, she somewhat motioned a "sure."

At eight o'clock, I went upstairs for dinner and saw Father Simon cook samgyupsal, which is equivalent to bacon in the West. The smell killed me. I haven't had it for such a long time and my stomach was desperately crying for it. I prepared the table and waited for the grand meal.

Father Simon said there would be a guest from Ulaanbaatar, so I prepared for an extra person. He said he's a Brother from Vietnam, who has been staying at various countries, including Papua New Guinea.

A little later the guy arrived at the center. When he got off, he was greeted by all the children outside, whom he shook hands with. He smiled to everyone and said "sam beno." The children liked him and followed him.

Upstairs, I greeted him. We had a small conversation, introducing who we were. I told him where I came from and who I am, as the Brother did the same. Soon, the two Sisters and Father Paul came to join for dinner. The food was all ready and the delicious smell of pork was filling the room.

I took some of the food to the security guard, which in Mongolian is "yamachi," downstairs. People take turns to be it. So far, I've seen four different people. Two of them are complete adults. One of those two is the overweight man who is really nice to everyone and likes to play with children. The other one is the tall guy whom I played basketball with, a few days ago. The other two are Gerard and Norow. Today, Gerard is the yamachi and Norow is staying with him. They are in the lobby right now. This is another example that shows how diligent Gerard and Norow are.

Dinner was excellent. The food was wonderful and everyone was happy to see each other. It was a good thing to see. The guest, Fathers, and Sisters all had conversations, reminiscing past memories. They all enjoyed being with each other. Although I didn't really know some of what they were talking about, I assumed it was something relating to church.

All the talking made the dinner ver long-VERY. We finished eating in about an hour, but remained to talk more. Sister Hanako's delicious desert, which was ice cream, added more time. It was worth it, though. Her ice cream was no ordinary ice cream.

From some of the conversations we had, I realized Tungaa's sickness wasn't just a cold. Father Paul talked about her serious heart problem. He said he's greatly concerned about her health and that she needs to go to the hospital. He also told us about this one time two years ago, when Tungaa rolled down a snowy hill and hit her head on a rock.

I felt really sorry for Tungaa, because this afternoon I didn't think she was gravely ill. I just thought she was tired from summer camp. Had I known about the sickness, I would have given her more care. If I have a chance, I would like to apologize.

When the clock hit ten o'clock, we finally got up. We did the dishes and cleaned. Saying good night, we all went back to our rooms. This is all for my fifteenth day.
July 19th, 2013

I thought I woke up late today. As soon as I opened my eyes I got up, thinking that I should hurry up. But, when I looked at my phone, it was only five thirty in the morning. Since I was tired, I tried to stay in bed more. A little later, I got up and readied. I didn't even feel like eating anything, so I skipped breakfast.

Before I left my room, I sent Clare a happy birthday message. She had told me that her birthday is July 19th. I was glad that I didn't forget it. The message I sent wasn't too decorative or anything, but rather it was simple. I hoped she would enjoy her birthday.

On the bus, I met the crew. Norow was among them. When he saw me, he pretended with his hand to play the clarinet. I just thought he was joking around, but then remembered the clarinet I gave to Gerard yesterday. Norow went inside and brought me the instrument. I quickly took it back to my room to get back downstairs on time.

Not everyone came to Sirenoro today. The children were there, but only some of my friends came. They were Oyuna, Tsolmo, Bilgye, Norow, and three other girls. It didn't matter, though. Farm work wasn't anything mandatory. Considering that, my friends were devoted volunteers.

Today, I finally finished reading The Steadfast Soldier, an English children's book. I started it a few days ago when the children were in their reading time, because I couldn't read the Mongolian books. The book wasn't even long, but for some reason I dragged and dragged until today.

After the usual reading period, I went to the truck with some guys. Zorgo told me I was coming with them, so I got in the trunk. Zorgo, Tsolmo, and Bilgye took the front seat, so I got in the back with Ottombayer and Timot, both of whom were a few years younger than I.

This morning was a little cold. Since I was in the trunk, the wind was blowing harshly against me. Part of it was my fault, because I wore a thin jacket, but there was no doubt that Mongolian mornings aren't warm. My shoes were stepping on some leftover particles of cow manure, which felt like dirt, but I didn't care. The sheer fact that I worked with friends made everything enjoyable, even shoveling feces.

We drove for a long time today. We even went further than the gers I had gone to before. On the way there were a few dogs that chased and barked at our truck. They were all dogs with brown and short fur. The funny thing was, when we drove a certain distance, at some point the dogs stopped chasing. It was as if the dogs had strict boundaries to which they protected their areas. They were smart, because they knew where their owners' territories ended.

Another funny scene was the cows. Quiet often, there were cows next to the dirt road, or even on the path. When we passed by in our truck, the cows didn't even move. They just stood in their spots and stared at us with giant eyes. They simply observed us drive by, with grass in their mouths.

We passed the place we had gone to yesterday. Zorgo wanted to find a new place, which he did. The spot we found was a small hill. There were also bushes next to the manure. Since we had six people, the job didn't take long. We quickly and swiftly finished our task.

However, since there was a big pile, my shoes kept sinking in the feces. They were constantly covered with cow poop. I told myself I would wash them later, but honestly I didn't really care.

Meanwhile, I realized my trip is almost over. Of the eighteen days, I've spent fifteen already and today was my sixteenth. I can't believe that I've only been here for eighteen days. This place feels like home to me; I feel like I've been to nowhere else in the world but Darkhan. Considering how attached I am to this place, I wonder how it would feel if I left it. I don't want to think about it, as I decided to enjoy as much as I can until my last day.

After our task was done, we headed back to Sirenoro. This time, Tsolmo offered his front seat. He called my name, saying "Michael," and pointed at the seat. I thanked him, saying "bayarla Tsolmo." When I said it, I sounded like a complete native. My pronunciation was almost Mongolian now. By the way, the "l" in "bayarla" is actually pronounced like "lth."

On the way, Zorgo let each of us drive. He let Bilgye, Tsolmo, and me drive while Ottombayer and Timot were allowed to only steer the wheel. My friends weren't good drivers, as they haven't driven before. It was funny, because when Tsolmo drove, the truck went zig-zag, swiveling around.

When it became my turn to drive, I tried my best. I remembered the Driver's Ed class from school. But, starting the engine of the truck wasn't that simple. It was different from an ordinary car, in that it had some different devices. Other than that, though, driving it was fine. I enjoyed it, as the dirt road made the truck shake and jump a lot.

Back at the farm, we had some soup with rice. It tasted very nice.

After lunch, we sat down and talked. When we talked, everyone was engaged. Regardless of gender or age, everyone talked to each other. It was a really nice thing to see, as everyone was a family here.

On the bus, someone handed out frozen yogurt to everyone. When I first looked at it, I thought it was cheese in a small, skinny bag. Norow told me I should try it and showed me how to eat it. It tasted like a frozen version of yogurt I had had before. I assumed that was what it was. I cut it in half and ate it. I gave the other half to Norow, who said he would eat it.

As we were heading back to the center, we found a lady who needed a ride. Father Simon stopped the bus to pick her up. This wasn't the first time. I've seen him do this many times before. He would simply stop the car to give some people on the streets a ride to get to somewhere. It was a very humane act. It was an act done to simply help a human being, which showed me we could all share something, even as complete strangers. Also, no one minded having another passenger. This wouldn't happen in the busy cities of Korea or the United States. Just imagine. This can never happen in New York City.

Back in my room, I took a cold shower. I went on the internet for a little and went upstairs to eat something. I finished the leftover samgyupsal from last night, which was still really good. I listened to some of Dumbfoundead's songs and texted Clare.
July 20th, 2013

Although today was Saturday, we still had farm work. I noticed we wouldn't have too much to do, though, because only Father Simon, Gerard, Norow, Norow's mom, and I were going to Sirenoro. Despite being tired, I was glad to go to the farm.

At the farm, Gerard and I used a small wagon to carry cow manure from outside the farm to the greenhouse. There, we used shovels to spread the feces for the plants. While we worked, Gerard and I talked about various things. When I told him that I'm leaving tomorrow, Gerard asked me if I would come back. I said yes. I said yes, because I really do want to come back to Darkhan. But, who knows if I actually will have the chance? He also asked me if I would come back with Clare; I said maybe. Talking about other things, Gerard told me Mongolians generally do not like Chinese. Yet, he liked Hong Kong, because that's where Father Paul is from.

That was it for today's work. It was very short and swift. After the work, I sat in a shade by the car we took to the farm. On the sand, I wrote "Darkhan," "Mongol," and "Sirenoro" in Mongolian. Well, at least I tried to. When Gerard saw the writing, he told me they were written wrong and corrected them.

Meanwhile, Norow came along. For some reason, though, he looked depressed today. He wasn't laughing or lively as usual. He looked extremely tired and I didn't even hear him say a word all morning. I could rarely see him at the farm, too. Overall, he was just silent today.

Trying to make him laugh, I made mounds out of the sand. Then, I rhythmically beat them, pretending to play the drums. I even made different sounds like real drums. Yet, Norow only watched. He barely smiled and kept quiet. I wondered what was wrong.

Anyways, we came back to the center, where I saw Bilgye. Father Simon told me to get some food from the kitchen. I went to the kitchen in the first floor to look for something. However, I couldn't find anything that Father Simon described as bread. I wandered around for a while and went back to him. When I went back, he told me it was the fifth floor kitchen, not first. He said he had said "fifth," but I completely missed it. In the kitchen, I found some bread and leftover pizza. I microwaved the pizza while I ate some food. Then, I brought them to Father Simon's office with Bilgye.

In the office, I saw Gerard and Father Simon. Father Simon smiled that I microwaved the pizza on a plate, not the tin foil on which the pizza originally was. He told me that I knew foil shouldn't be microwaved and laughed. He also gave us tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. Then, he left the office for something and I was left with Gerard and Bilgye.

Gerard turned on the computer and went on his Facebook account. He isn't the only person with Facebook. I noticed that a lot of my Mongolian friends have Facebook and that they liked going on it. It really is interesting to see how much they like it.

Gerard had a lot of pictures on his Facebook. Most of them where photos of people at the center. Looking at the pictures he posted, I could definitely see his love and care for the children and friends. There were hundreds of pictures that stored memories from the past.

Some of the pictures were of himself. One was a picture of him holding a bow, which was taken at a shooting contest. A video of him dancing to Billie Jean was there, too. Doing the moon walk and other cool moves, Gerard looked like a real dancer.

He also showed me his "monito." The monito looked as old as Gerard. A monito is like a pen pal. My Mongolian friends have monitos, who are Korean. They live in Korea and sometimes visit Darkhan to see their Mongolian monitos. The last meeting was two years ago and the next one will be tomorrow, the day when I leave. It is really good to connect people over long distance. Different people can interact to gain valuable experience.

Surfing on Facebook kept us busy, so no one actually ate the food I brought. A little later, we turned off the computer. Then, Gerard taught me how to moon walk and shuffle, because I asked him how he could do it. As he did it, he made it seem so easy. His steps were smooth and he even showed advanced moves using his skills. Yet, when Bilgye and I tried, we were only dragging our feet on the floor and creating dust.

We headed outside for mass. On the way, though, we ate some bread. We weren't really supposed to eat before mass, but the bread looked too nice. With Oyuna, who came along, we gobbled up the food and went to church. Even at mass, I was still chewing stealthily.

During mass, I realized that I never took any pictures of the church. I regretted that I forgot to bring my camera to mass today. The church looked very nice inside and some photos of it would have been priceless.

After mass, we headed to the market. I changed my clothes from my work jacket and got in the bus to leave. This crew included Father Simon, Gerard, Erica, Khulan, and Norow. Norow still looked depressed. He merely sat in the bus with his eyes closed, staying silent. I really couldn't get used to that. He's always been so energetic and hilarious, but today he was completely different. I think he tried to look okay, but everyone noticed his un-Norow behavior.

We bought shovels, potatoes, meat, and other stuff. All of these were sold outside. What we needed weren't sold inside any building. Thus, we were sweating in the sizzling weather. Under this extreme sun, vendors were displaying their goods. When we approached them, the vendors simply told us the price of a product. I also saw a few dogs swagger around and some cut-off legs of cows, like last time. Yet, nothing was wrong to me.

We stayed at the market for about an hour. Returning to the center, I was asked to go on a picnic. A picnic? I don't remember the last time I went on one of those. With my friends and little children, I happily got on the bus for the trip. After all, it could be my last trip before I leave tomorrow. I didn't want to miss it.

Most of us were just kids this time. Only a few others and I were teenagers. We ran the road for a while, I think for two hours. Our way to the picnic was greeted by fierce dirt paths of rural Mongolia and the peaceful sky and plains. It was somewhat ironic how these two made a combination.

Not that many trees could be seen; they were widely scattered. One of the trees looked like one of those from a photograph exhibition. It stood alone in the middle of the plains, rendering a lonely yet majestic scene. I took a picture of that tree.

Arriving at an unexpected place where there were uncountable trees, we took out the sandwiches and drinks we brought. Sitting on the grass, all of us observed the peaceful lands of Mongolia. It was a very comfortable place that calmed everyone. After eating, I took some pictures with my friends. Meanwhile, Dashnam tried to climb a tree.

At the site, we talked a lot. Smiles were everywhere and laughter could be heard. We were all having a good time in the trees. Yet, Norow still seemed sad, as he walked around alone in the woods.

After the picnic, we left. Only a girl, lady, and baby were left behind. I thought they wanted to stay for more. On the other hand, the rest of us headed back. In the middle of our returning journey, the bus got stuck in the sand. Like before, we all got off to push the bus. After a few tries, we were successful. While we pushed, we played with the sand on the ground by kicking it on each other's feet. Erica kicked so much sand on my feet that my shoes were filled with sand. Of course, I kicked back!

The bus ride was wild. Everyone was just singing and playing. I recognized some songs that they usually sing at mass. All the while, Dashnam got very excited. In addition to singing, Dashnam stood up and danced in front of everyone. His songs were bad, but his performance was funny. He was a good entertainer. At the same time, he enjoyed it himself, too.

We got back to the center pretty quickly. So far during my stay in Darkhan, I've always felt that the way back to somewhere was greatly shorter than the way away from that place. I guess it was just the feeling, but it seemed as though the way back actually had less distance.

Arriving at the center, everyone shouted "bayarla Father," which means "thank you Father." Every trip ends this way. With the arrival, everyone simply thanks Father Simon for the drive. It is something pleasant to witness.

Until the evening, I just sat around, talked, and played basketball with my friends. I also took some pictures to remember all of us.

Some of the girls were dancing to Korean songs. I assumed that they would perform in front of the Korean monitos who are coming tomorrow. I really hope that my Mongolian friends don't forget me for the other Koreans. Right after I'm gone, the monitos will come and I somewhat fear that they might take over the Mongolians' memories with me.

I took some more pictures and talked with my friends. We made funny postures for the pictures and joked around in the lobby. Yet, I sensed the end of my trip. I couldn't believe time had passed that fast. My last night in Mongolia is coming soon.

I played as much as I could with my friends until dinner. One good thing was that Norow seemed to be fine now. He was walking around with Erica and his sister, eating berries and joking around like he usually does.

Dinner was with both Fathers, Sisters, and the Brother. It was very nice as usual. After Ms. Yoo had left, Father Simon always cooked. I felt sorry, since he cooks even though he is busy and tired from everything he does. Yet, I liked that he cooked, because his food is incredibly delicious. He really is a good cook. I guess years of frying and boiling when Ms. Yoo wasn't here rendered him a chef. With his confidence, he told me a real cook knows what to make when he sees the ingredients he can use. He said it jokingly, but I thought it was true.

We had a long supper again. There was so much to talk about. Everyone at the table wished me a safe trip back to Korea. I thanked them. I was thankful for everything they had done for me. It is something I can never experience again; it is an invaluable lesson.

Our conversations led us to talk about a guy whom we all know, whose name I will not disclose. He is mentally challenged but jolly. He loves meeting the people at the center and doing many activities here. However, he has a brother who beats him so cruelly. His brother drinks a lot and abuses him. One time, the brother even took away all the money he earned from working. Usually, the brother treats him like an animal and doesn't even allow him in the house. Father Paul said that he has a house, but not a home.

Then, we spotted him outside. Having nowhere to go, he wandered around outside the walls to find a place to sit. Sister Hanako, always the kindest, brought some curry with rice to him. She wanted him to have some food, because she knew he was starving. Soon, Sister Hanako bursted out in tears.

I couldn't eat the desert she provided us with. I could not scoop the beautiful ice cream Sister Hanako gave us. Thinking about the guy outside, I realized how excessive I was. I didn't need anything like that. I was taking too much.

I didn't feel bad for him, though. "Feeling bad" is very disrespectful. It destroy's the person whom I feel bad for and his or her self-respect. It is only a view that is unreasonable, elitist sympathy. I shouldn't treat him as a "poor guy who has nothing," but a fellow human being who simply is in a harsh situation.

Instead, I felt "with" him. I was empathetic and tried to share his pain, although his pain was something I couldn't fully comprehend. This way, I could protect the respect for him as someone who coexists in this world with me. This is important, because we must recognize that bad things that happen to someone do not make that person less valuable. We are all human beings, and we must treat each other with the same degree of respect.

I asked Sister Hanako if I could give my desert to the guy. She looked at me with a smile and calmly said yes. When I went outside to find him, I realized it was raining. Calling his name, I tried to determine where he was. Then, the guy came out of a tree, where he was on to avoid the rain. He was there to spend the night, as nowhere else he could sleep without getting soaked.

That instant moment, I lost my words. I could barely imagine being in the same situation. I had no idea how it would feel like. Having lived this way for a long time, he must have been exhausted.

I sat with him near the walls to give him the ice cream. I told him it was from Sister Hanako. He liked it a lot. He finished it so quickly and then used his finger to lick the last of it. After a little conversation about his night outside, we shook hands to say good-bye. He was shivering, as the dark and rainy night was cold. I wished he could stay in a room at the center, but that was against the rules. Yet, Father Paul said he would consider it, as he knew how serious the situation was.

I've heard enough stories of people living difficult lives, but until today, I have not understood them. I've only known those trite stories that try to make people sympathize. But today, I realized and recognized his pain. It was truly an enlightening moment, that while we drop ourselves in a puddle of excessiveness, our neighbors strive with nothing right outside our doors. That is it for today.

July 21st, 2013

Wow. My eighteen days have passed in Darkhan already. I remember when I just came to Chinggis Khan airport and met Father Simon. I never thought time could go by this fast.

This morning, I woke up extra early, at about five minutes after five o'clock, to organize and clean my room. I sure didn't want to leave any mess after I left. I didn't feel tired at all.

I checked my bag and made the bed. I cleaned the trash and put it in a separate bag. I threw out all the leftover soap and opened the window so the fresh Mongolian air could come in.

I felt sad. After preparing for my flight I felt so empty. "Is this the end?," I thought. It was too soon. Too fast. I couldn't imagine saying good-bye to those who've been with me for the past eighteen days. Could I just leave? After a long thought and nostalgia I went downstairs to go to Sirenoro.

Outside, there were Gerard and Father Simon. I saw James, too, but he wasn't going. I ran to the car that was about to leave and got on it. On the way to Sirenoro, Father Simon gave me his name card that has his phone number and email address. He said, "Before I forget, I'm giving you this. Contact me when you arrive and send me a paper of what you've experienced." I was actually glad to hear that. I wanted to share my feelings that I developed in Mongolia. I told him I've been writing everyday, so that it wouldn't be that hard.

At the farm we saw Norow's mom work already. Gerard and I put some radishes, cucumbers, and lettuce in boxes. Father Simon told us we were going to give them to some families. One of them owned a hair salon in Ulaanbaatar, and the other was that of a banker also in Ulaanbaatar.

Picking out radishes was pretty fun. I had to grab around the radish and pull it out hard. They were slippery, so at first it wasn't easy. After picking out a few, Gerard went to wash them. I hung the stems of the radishes on a wall so that they could be eaten in a soup when they get dry. Then, Father Simon led me to a green house. There were a lot of cucumbers there. He asked me to water them plenty in the bottom. After having crouched for a while, I felt that my back wasn't comfortable, but it was some experience for me, a city boy. I washed the cucumbers and sorted them into a box. There were a lot. I would say at least thirty cucumbers.

After we were done with packing the cucumbers and moved on to lettuce, Father Simon found that I mistakenly left out three cucumbers. He and others laughed and teased me, saying that I forgot to pack them. After the joke, Father Simon gave them to Norow's mom.

That was basically it for this morning's farm work. Our work was done by eight twenty, because we had to get ready for my departure. We quickly headed back to the center and I took my last view of Sirenoro. So peaceful with all the cows, horses, and dogs roaming around in packs, Sirenoro was exceptionally beautiful today.

We dropped off the boxes of vegetables outside Father Simon's office and went up to the chapel. Father Simon had told us we would have our own mass since we had to leave before ten o'clock. In the chapel, I was with Father Simion, Gerard, and Erica. They were all going to Ulaanbaatar with me.

The mass was in both Korean and Mongolian. I assumed Father Simon did it for me. Occasionally, he said things in Korean, such as some stories or parables. Every time he did that, Gerard and Erica seemed confused, as they couldn't understand the language. They looked at me with puzzled smiles.

I went downstairs to my room to get my bag. Even after I packed up everything, I kept checking and checking. I couldn't leave my room so easily. I checked under the beds, inside the bathroom, on the desk, and the hangers. I really didn't want to leave.

I took the two clarinets in my room to Sister Hanako's room. When I knocked the door, she opened it and greeted me with a gigantic smile. I've never seen her not smile, except for last night's dinner. She is always happy and nice. It is amazing how one human being can be that joyful.

Anyways, she told me to have a nice trip and that time has gone too fast for my departure to come. I told her I wanted to stay more and how thankful I was for the great experience and care. Then, I told her about the clarinets and sheet music, reminding her to give them to Gerard and the children. She said yes with a big smile again. As we finally said good-bye, Sister Hanako went to the kitchen. She brought me a box of cookies to eat on the way to the airport. After a hug, we parted.

I walked downstairs to the lobby. There was still time for mass, so there wasn't anyone in the lobby. Only Father Paul was there, going to the church. He saw me and gave me a big smile, telling me to have a safe trip. We shook hands and hugged.

When I went to Father Simon's office, I saw some of my friends. I spotted Baga and said I was leaving. We had a brotherly hug and shook our hands American style, the style I had taught him before. I asked for his Facebook account, although I'm never on it. I just wanted to add everyone so I could always remember them.

There was a taxi, a sedan, waiting for us there. The trunk was full, so my giant bag had to go in the passenger seat. Soon, Tungaa came and we hugged each other. Tungaa gave me a bag of present. In it were a blue rhinoceros doll, rosary, and letter. She's been really nice to me and till the last moment, she was thinking about me. I was really going to miss her, too. She is one of my best Mongolian friends.

Then, I got a present from Oggie, the little respectful kid whom I got really close to. It was a paper flower with the petals around a paper cup. It looked very nice. I thanked him and gave him a high five. I shared the cookies Sister Hanako gave me with everyone there. Then I went to the church to talk to some more friends.

It was right before mass, so my friends were practicing for it. They were rehearsing as chorus. I walked over to them, where I met Sister Hanako and Father Paul along with my friends. A lot of girls were there and the guys were Sena, Baga, and another guy. I shook hands with each one of them and exchanged hugs. Some of the girls seemed to have tears in their eyes. At least at that moment, I was glad that my friends would miss me. I kept shaking hands with everyone. I just couldn't stop.

All of these people were great beings who welcomed a strange Korean to their place. They will be my friends forever and we will remember each other. We all gave and took smiles, saying good-bye. We told each other that we would miss a lot. I wanted to stay more with them, but time was running out. After our last exchange of looks, I left.

The taxi was waiting for me. Gerard called me and I got in the car. Because of my huge bag, Erica had to have her legs on the seat. It looked very uncomfortable, so I offered her to sit somewhere else and that I would take the bad seat, since it was my bag. She said it was fine. Erica is probably one of the nicest people on earth. She's always been caring and nurturing for everyone. She is like my sister. She would be there for everything and watch my back. I thank her so much for what she's done for me.

So that was how I left Don Bosco Center. I waved to those outside for the last time and the car left. That was the last view of the center and the church, my home for the past eighteen days. I just wanted to jump out of the car and go back to my room 304. Yet, the taxi was running fast and it drew me away from my home.

For a few hours, we drove. Erica was still sitting on the uncomfortable spot. I asked her if she was okay, and as usual, she said it was fine. I really felt sorry for her. My bag gave her legs a pain. I wished I could do something about it, but she wouldn't change seats.

The way to Ulaanbaatar was actually nicer than I had expected. It felt completely different from that from Ulaanbaatar to Darkhan. The soft roads allowed our car to run very smoothly.

On our way, Erica leaned on my shoulder. I was glad that she did that. As I said before, she is like my sister. I wanted her to feel less tired and comfortable. I tried to render my shoulder softer so that she would feel cozy.

After driving for more than three hours, we arrived at Ulaanbaatar. We had to pay to get in the city. Before we got to Ulaanbaatar, we had to go through a security check, too. There was a random cop on the road who stopped our car. He checked the trunk and let us go. He didn't have an office or anything, but was just standing on the roads. I didn't think that it was efficient.

Soon, we were in the city. We arrived at a hair salon, where we delivered the vegetables from the morning. The owner of the salon, who knew Father Simon, greeted us. The salon was clean and big. It probably made a lot of money. Father Simon and the owner had a little talk and she gave him some money she owed for the vegetables. Father Simon happily accepted, saying that the money would be used for the children as scholarships. Real happiness could be seen on his face. He genuinely did think and care about the children of Don Bosco center. Although he didn't express his emotions overtly, he was like a parent to them. This is why the children at the center follow him so much.

Our second destination was an apartment, where a Korean family of the banker lives. The taxi driver dropped us off there and left, since we were going to stay there for a while. The apartment looked very nice inside. It was different from other buildings in Mongolia. Father Simon told me the particular region was a wealthy place. As we took the elevator to the fourth floor, where the banker's wife was waiting for us, Gerard pretended to be scared, because he usually never takes an elevator. He said there is no elevator in Darkhan.

The inside of the apartment was really nice. There were two giant windows, each one in the living room and the dining room. They gave us a great view of the outside. Outside the living room, there was a mountain and a statue of Buddha. Outside the dining room, there were trees. The home had chandeliers and carpets that made the apartment look even better. Everything was sophisticated and clean; it was a very nice place.

Gerard, Erica, and I hung around in the living room until lunch. We tried a mini golf range and looked around. Then, Gerard asked me for a t-shirt. I told him most of mine smelled like cow feces, since I had worn them to shovel the manure. So, I gave him the t-shirt I wore yesterday, which was relatively clean. Yet, compared to what he had given me, my present was nothing. I was glad to repay at least some of what I had received. Plus, the t-shirt matched him well.

Lunch was very Korean, but everyone enjoyed it. There were very nice-looking and good-tasting side dishes. Meat, noodles, and vegetables all joined in an harmony. That was some nice lunch.

One of the people at the table was the banker's daughter, who worked in Manhattan. Again, I met someone who lived near me in the United States. Her life was interesting. She went to a high school in Uzbekistan and graduated from FIT, Fashion Institute of Technology, in Manhattan. Apparently, this is a very prestigious fashion school. She was a nice person to talk to. Her laughter and reactions were somewhat unusual, though. Whenever she laughed, Gerard laughed, because he thought it was funny.

After lunch, the daughter, Erica, Gerard, and I went to a nearby park. It looked like some kind of a memorial park. There were a lot of stairs up a mountain, on top of which was a circular structure. We passed by many shops on our way. One of them was extraordinary. There was a vendor who had a giant eagle and let people take pictures with it on their arms. I felt bad for the animal, because it was chained so that it wouldn't flee.

As we talked, I worked as a translator between the daughter and Erica. Since I knew little bit more Mongolian than the daughter did, I used my small knowledge of the language to let them communicate. For example, when the daughter tried to ask Erica if she was tired, I said "yadarsino," while she said "are you tired."

The hot day made us sweat through the walk up the stairs. However, once we got to the peak, the strong wind dried off that sweat and cooled us. It felt like I just opened my fridge.

At the top, we could take a closer look at the circular structure. It was a wall full of painting of people who looked like Soviet soldiers and Mongolians. The soldiers had red stars on their hats and the others just looked like Mongolians in traditional clothes. They were shaking hands in the painting. I didn't understand what this meant. But, after doing some research online just now, I realize that it is the Zaisan Memorial, which is for the dead Soviet soldiers from World War II. Also, it represents friendship between USSR and Mongolia.

Other than history, the Zaisan Memorial offered a fantastic view of the city of Ulaanbaatar. The scenery was amazing. Not only the sight of the whole city was delighting my eyes, but also it showed how close to nature Ulaanbaatar is. The city is literally situated in nature. Buildings seemed to sprout out from the green plains and mountains. The infrastructure here worked together with the environment to create a wonderful balance.

We took some pictures and headed back to the apartment. Seeing a lot of writings on the memorial structure, Gerard tried to write his own. Then, a guy came over and talked to him. It seemed that he was telling Gerard not to write anything.

On our way back, we found a memorial park dedicated to a Korean. It was dedicated to Dr. Lee Tae Joon. Again, I did some research and I found out he was a doctor and Korean fighter for independence who later served in Mongolia. Apparently, he was also a doctor for the Mongolian king. The park had a Korean flag drawn on a sign. Unfortunately, the park was closed so we couldn't enter it.

As we got back, it was time for us to leave for the airport. We all said good-bye and left with a guest who had come to their apartment for tea after lunch. He said he would drive us to the airport.

As time kept going, we realized our adieu was approaching us quicker. Gerard and Erica said they would miss me and that they would be sad. I felt the same way. They are like my family. We've gotten so close that each of us became a part of each of us's life. Now, it was time to break the bond. I called Erica my sister, "anne," and Gerard my brother, "akh." Meanwhile, I learned Gerard's real, Mongolian name. It was Tusigye. He jokingly said it was Dusik in Korean.

I fell asleep in the car again. This time, I leaned on Erica's shoulder. I never knew a person's should could be that soft. My sister's shoulder really helped me fall asleep. Then, two hours later, we arrived at the airport.

The Korean monitos, who were a group of Korean Salesian youth, was scheduled to arrive at the airport by four forty in the afternoon. However, we arrived there a little passed six o'clock. Fortunately though, the Koreans' flight had been delayed. While Father Simon and Gerard went in to the airport to meet the Salesian youth, Erica and I waited near the bus the Koreans were to take to Darkhan. Although our languages were imperfect, Erica and I talked about my flight and other random things. She also seemed sad that I was leaving.

Soon, the Korean youth group came. They put their bags on the bus. Then, they got out of the bus to stand as a group. Father Simon, Gerard, Erica, and I stood on the other side across them to introduce ourselves. Father Simon introduced Gerard as their tour guide, Erica as the chef, and me as a visiting Korean student who lives in the U.S. They knew Gerard and called him Tusigye already. The group greeted us and took some pictures with a banner they brought. It said who they were and what their group was.

It was time to part. Everyone went on the bus, except for Father Simon, Gerard, Erica, and me. Although we all wanted to go back to Darkhan together, we knew we had to say good-bye. Erica was about to cry and Gerard said he wouldn't, although he wanted to. Father Simon looked sad.

I shook hands with Father Simon and bowed. I couldn't tell enough how much I thanked him for everything. He has done so much for me, while I didn't do anything for him and my friends. The experience he allowed me to have enlightened me and taught me so many things. Finally, he held my hands and prayed for me. As he did that, I struggled to not let my tears drop out of my eyes. We took a last look and that reminded me of everything that happened during the past eighteen days, from when I first met him at the airport to today's morning.

Then, I shook hands with and exchanged a brotherly hug with Gerard. He said he wanted to cry. I laughed, because he also told me that he wouldn't. Gerard has been so nice to me, guiding and accepting me in Darkhan. I can never explain with words how helpful he has been for me to live, not travel in Darkhan. Without him, my days would have not been as good as they have.

Lastly, I hugged Erica. She was about to cry, I could tell. In the beginning of my trip, I wasn't really close to her. But, as days passed, she and I could feel that we were closer than we had thought. She was like a quiet sister who took care of everyone. She always supported me. I remembered when she fixed the wristband Clare gifted me. Erica's eyes were reddened and wet, but she didn't cry yet. I hugged her for the last time and told her I wouldn't cry.

Then, they all got on the bus. We said bye for the last time and I shook Gerard's hand again. I tried to look strong, but as the door of the bus started to close, I couldn't take control of my eyes anymore. I didn't cry, but tears certainly showed up in my eyes. I hid my face, just smiling and waving at the bus. The windows were too black, so I couldn't see the inside.

The bus didn't wait. It left right away. I kept waving and waving my hand, but I could not see any answer through the dark windows. I just hoped that they were waving at me, too. I stared at the bus until it was out of my sight. Running down the road, it disappeared from the airport and nothing was left behind for me.

That was it. I was left all alone at the airport parking lot. I took my bag and dragged myself to the inside. My steps were heavier than ever. I felt empty. I just lost something so important in my life. There was a giant whole made in my heart.

Everything I have experienced in Darkhan passed by in my head like a panorama. Day one, two, to eighteen, all the things I've done with my Mongolian family came into my mind. Pictures of me and my Mongolian friends, along with Hong Kong friends of course, became so vivid. I still couldn't believe I was away from Don Bosco center and its people.

I walked into the airport with my eyes red. I wanted to turn around and run for the bus and Darkhan, even if that would take me years. But, I knew that couldn't be done. My time of eighteen days has passed and it was for me to go back to my usual life. It was the end of my days. It was the end of my life in Darkhan.

As I type this, sitting on a chair in the airport and waiting for my flight, I feel so sentimental. Thinking about everything that happened in Mongolia, I try to store it in my head as priceless memories. Each and every interaction and experience here is invaluable to me. I want to keep as much of it as I can.

I do not know when I will see Darkhan and my Mongolian family again. But, something tells me that one day we will all meet again at the Don Bosco youth center's lobby, playing Uno or just talking on the couches. Maybe, we will play Tumus together before mass. Until that day finally comes, though, I won't see Darkhan. Until that day finally comes, I say, Good-Bye Darkhan.
Epilogue

Spring of 2013, my father told me about Mongolia. He had gone there a few times as a medical volunteer. He told me about the many incidents that had happened and what he had experienced, and I started to grow my curiosity about the country. Very soon, I decided to go to Mongolia and contacted Father Simon, the priest in charge of the local youth center, where volunteers stay. He said absolutely, and I was scheduled to go there for volunteer service. The trip would be eighteen days, more than a week shorter than what I had originally planned, but I was still excited. On July third of 2013, I took the plane to Mongolia and on July 21st, I left the country.

Nonetheless, I shouldn't call this trip "volunteer service." When I hear the phrase volunteer service, I think of service through which I'm giving and providing a lot. It means that I'm volunteering for someone, and my work is greatly benefiting that person. When I look back, I have not given so much to my Mongolian friends. All I did was help a little at the farm and just have fun with the local people. Instead, I should call it an "experience." Experience means I'm feeling and learning something, and keeping and bringing that inside me. It is the perfect word that describes what I did this summer. I've learned so much in Darkhan, Mongolia and brought that with me back home.

To be honest, when I first decided to go to Mongolia, I thought I would give so much aid. I thought my "service" would make a difference and an impact, and that I would make things better. However, as I went to Mongolia with this "fake responsibility," my notion changed very soon. Darkhan was already good and the people there were happy. They didn't need any foreigner to come to their community to help them. They did not need any affected sympathy; they were completely fine with their lives.

What I found instead was jealousy. I envied their simple and genuine lives. They were even happier than I was. The people who needed real help were myself and the other numerous people who think they must help someone. I felt ashamed that I thought I could rescue some people who I hadn't even known.

Yet, they accepted me with warmth. Actually, they approached me. Since the first time they met me, they've called me a friend and smiled. With their help and despite the many differences between us, very quickly we became friends and in a few days we became a family who shared so many things together. To a guy whom they can't even speak the same language with, to a guy whom they can barely communicate with, my Mongolian friends let me join them and feel a belonging. I became a part of them and they also recognized me as a friend, not a foreigner. We went swimming together to a river and fishing to a nearby lake early in the morning. We played volleyball in the front yard and joked around while we worked at the farm. We sat next to each other at church and chattered after mass, eating Mongolian breadsticks. To everything they did, they invited me. All of this was possible because we are all human beings. We could become close in a very short time and trust each other with no conditions. By living together, simply coexisting, we shared our feelings and strengthened our friendship.

These people with such great hearts were so pure and genuine. Unlike me, who had greed and unnecessary desire, they enjoyed their lives. I envied that they used whatever they had and became joyful. Very "humane," I would call them. Everyone was like a family and had no barrier. The older guys took care of the younger and the younger guys followed them. I was merry when I witnessed them worry about and care for each other. They wanted each other to have more food and volunteered to do the dishes. It was beautiful how various people joined together to create harmony.

Interacting with these new people, I learned that my understanding widens. There are diverse people in the world. However, that is not wrong, but only different. Someone is like this while someone is like that; every person is unique. Mongolian friends were different from my American friends and my Korean friends. They all had different personalities and different thoughts. From meeting new people, I could respect the difference, and moreover understand that difference. This priceless lesson is one of the things I'm bringing inside myself back home.

From the eighteen days I spent in Mongolia, I've learned so much. Even as I write this in America, I keep thinking about Darkhan and my friends there. I greatly appreciate everyone and everything that made my summer so valuable. I really hope that I will see them again, as we promised.

