MONGOLIA | History of volunteering in Taiga

WHAT YOU FIND IN THIS ARTICLE
→ A travel story about our 10-day experience of volunteering with a family Mongolia.
→ A link to our practical article "WORKAWAY | Why don't we go and make ourselves useful? Practical guide."which gathers everything you want to know about this type of volunteer travel if you too want to experience this alternative way of travelling.

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CHAPTER 1 | OF MONGOLIA

CONFIDENCE WITH AN UNKNOWN.

It is September 30th. We've been driving for 712 kilometers and are sitting on the bench of an old bus, rocked by the rolling and Mongolian clips that loop in the little TV 12 hours. If we were in France, we would have crossed the entire country from north to south, but that night we crossed one quarter of the immense Mongolia. Yet the old bus and its driver did the job: we are early. It could have been good news, if it hadn't been 5:00 in the morning.

Cries signal our arrival in this last city before the taiga and draw us out of our sleep. We get out of our polars, tidy our inflatable pillows, pick up our bags piled up at the back under several large boxes of food, and we find our eyes out half open. It's 0° degrees, dark night and it's not the low halo of the streetlight of this unknown city that will help us locate us. The bus leaves and leaves us alone. Focus on our maps and the latest instructions received from Davaa (our correspondent and mother of the family we are about to meet)* We don't exchange a word. Everyone knows what he has to do. and in view of the fog in our ill-awakened minds, not speaking is even simpler.

* We knew Davaa with the platform Workaway : a platform that connects locals looking for a little help and travellers wishing to bring it to them. The principle is simple: in exchange for various work, the volunteer is fed and/or housed. The exact modalities are different depending on the case and the duration can vary from a few days to a month, or two, or three... Depending on the time each has. Davaa has offered us to stay and take care of breakfast + evening meal for the time we would like in exchange... What you'll soon find out.

After about ten minutes a man descends from a car and advances into the night. His vehicle doesn't look like a taxi at all but he has to discern our foreign heads and seize the opportunity: "Go somewhere? Me ok!" he said by designating his car. Circumstances leave us not so much choice.

Thirty minutes later, we're sitting on a new bench. We trust a stranger who, After studying two minutes the point we put on a map, runs in the middle of the night on a small road from Mongolia. We can't tell what's around us. Maxime got carried away by fatigue. I sleep half and try to open my eyes regularly to point our GPS position on the map. Our driver doesn't speak 10 words in English. We look like we're going in the right direction.

AFTER THE BLACK NIGHT, THE DORE COLLINES.

It is about 6:30 am, the sun has just risen: first it illuminates the snowy peaks of the mountains that form the horizon, we discover them, then it ignites the vast burned plains of the taiga. Soon, it sparkles the waters of a huge lake. From the dark night, We go to the golden hills. Our eyes sting but have definitely opened to the sight of this landscape. From time to time, our driver turns around to make great announcements of his loud and cheerful voice. We don't understand, but he smiles with full teeth. The contemplation of what surrounds us absorbs us and we feel like we are discovering... A new world.

There are three words: purity, contrast, beauty. The painting is enchanting. Under a sky of a hypnotizing blue, the ochre hills embrace the crystal clear waters whose multitude of wavelets caressed by the wind bring back the sun. On the shores, some forests with autumnal robes take place. Their orange fits perfectly with burnt land. In the background, the bluish peaks with white hairs watch wisely. Soon, small wood houses with colourful roofs will appear... This vision alone deserves all past actions. We're here..

WELCOME IN YOUR YOUTH

Despite the sun that has just risen, the whole village seems to be asleep. We're getting aware that we're gonna have to knock on the unknown door. to wake them up and announce our arrival... After zigzaging for a while between the wooden houses, still by car (only one paved axis crosses the village, the other "ways" are only ice fields), our unhoped-for driver ends up finding the place we were looking for. In an excess of enthusiasm, he slams the door of the vehicle and tells us to stay inside. And go away. He's heading for the property we were looking for... Then reappears a few minutes later, accompanied by a young woman with hair still tangled who tries to simmer under a big wool sweater. Her black almond eyes barely exceed her rolled neck. They bend a little more and we guess a smile when she sees us: it's Miiga, Davaa's sister. Apparently, pulling a stranger out of his sleep wasn't a problem for our driver decidedly full of surprises.

Presentations are quick. Davaa isn't here, but she warned her family that we were coming today. Of the five members, Davaa is the only one who speaks English. Until it returns, we will have to settle for universal language: mimes. Her sister, about thirty years old, nevertheless seems to have learned a few words for the occasion: she does not need more to make herself understood. Concerned about the morning hour at which we arrive, the cold and our long journey (our attempts to reassure her do not do much) she hastened to designate us a small wooden cabin as well as a yurt. She makes us understand that we can choose: This place will be for us. It's a surprise because we didn't know how we were going to sleep. Since mattresses were expected on the floor, having your own small home is a luxury. We choose yurt*.

* Did you know that? In Mongolia the word "yourth" is not used. The correct name is "ger". But to know everything about yurts or "gers", it's this way: We share all our anecdotes and several amazing information in a few lines.

We barely have time to put our bags down, which it has become volatile. She returns a few minutes later, always at the pace of a race, followed by an older man. His father, probably? Did he, too, wake up because of us? She calls it "Fire!". The tall and thin man with a small cap makes us a sign of the head when he almost excuses to go back to a place who is more at home than at home. He silently started the fire in the small central stove. A little overwhelmed by so much attention, we ask his daughter how we can help: "Sleep! You cold, tired!".

We find ourselves alone in less time than it takes to understand. We're looking at this little yurt that will be our home for the next 10 days. Behind the stove, a real bed (we know that nomads sleep on the floor) with a thick duvet extends our arms. To the left, a small table and a seat. To the right, a low furniture. The ground is a kind of carpet and over the meshes (which form the « walls » and give the yurt its circular shape) large coloured blankets were arranged. The flames crackle. Under the vaulted ceiling everything is quiet. The golden and blue landscapes are still floating in our heads. Are we really here? Two hours earlier, an old bus left us in the night and the cold. We're on the duvet. It's 7:30 in the morning. Our eyes get lost in the circular roof opening through which the smoke escapes... And as fast as his volutes progress toward heaven, we're going to sleep..

CHAPTER 2 | FIRST VOLUNTARIA IN TAIGA

MARAL

Our eyes are slowly opening. The fire has almost extinguished but the sun is now high enough to pass its rays through the circular opening of the dome. They warm our sleeping bodies. The sky is an extraordinary blue. Everything is deeply calm. Is that why we feel so light? It's as if this place had seduced us. We just did the best "siest" in our life (it must be 10 or 11 am).

A yurt blow brings us up. You have to bend to untie the lock (which reaches us about to the knees) then to pass in the frame of the small door of orange and blue wood. "Yaaah!!!" we are greeted outside by a little warrior who does not need to fall down to pass the front door. It's Maral The daughter of Davaa. She's 7 years old and wields a long stick in a challenging posture. Very quickly, we get a choreography worthy of Mulan punctuated with "Yaahh! Yaaahhh!". Without exchanging a word, We answer the invitation and start playing "fight". She's not a bit shy and laughs with shrapnel. She understands when asked "What's your name? – Maral!". We are all three under the sun and for the first time we discover the estate.

GER CAMP AT THE BORD OF LAC

Davaa's family started a few years ago to create a Ger camp to host travellers who would like to discover this wilderness*. Surrounded by high wooden fences like a ranch, the family estate extends a little less than 200m long and a few hundred meters wide. East, three minutes walk, the banks of the immense sapphire lake take place. To the north, Taiga Mountains and impressive Siberian forests stand in the background. The estate includes: six yurts, two rather rudimentary small wooden chalets in which the family sleeps, a house construction with four dry toilets and a huge, huge yurt that houses a kitchen and a common room.

* The ger camps or "camps de gers / yurtes" in French are places gathering several yurts intended to accommodate travellers. As nomadic life becomes increasingly difficult, many nomads (and Mongolians in general) turn to tourism to support their needs.

But everything is empty. We are far from the high season and Davaa, her two children, her sister and their grandfather are the only ones living on the estate. We go towards the big yurt: an imposing door covered with motifs carved in the wood serves as an entrance. We grow it and discover a large high ceiling room with a small fireplace in the center. At the top, the same circular opening that communicates with the sky, but much larger than that of our own yurt. Some tables are arranged so that travellers can enjoy breakfast or a meal, a sofa and a dark wooden bar counter finish furnishing the room. Totally empty, the counter never seems to have served. But it is precisely to help them develop this activity (the reception and accommodation of travellers) that we are here. Moreover, in this season or no visit is expected, The family must redouble its efforts to maintain the estate and cope with the harsh winter.

A NEW INATTENDANCE

It's about that time that we get a message from Davaa. He doesn't tell us very good news. "My son had an accident. He's fine, but I'm gonna be held in the capital for a few days. Rest and take time for you in the next few days while waiting for my return. I hope you're well settled. Ask my family if you need anything."*.

* Davaa speaks a very good English. For the comfort of reading her lyrics are directly translated here, but it is in English that we communicate with her.

The situation is unexpected and the announcement of an accident almost a thousand kilometers away makes us feel helpless. After being reassured about her son's state of health, the best we could do is to offer him our "distance" help: If she is aware of certain tasks that we could do here in her absence to make herself useful, she could tell us by messages. Although the place is most enchanting, we are not here to rest and do not want to feel like we enjoy the hospitality of this family: the principle of mutual exchange and enrichment on which this kind of experience is based is what motivates us in this way of travel and we want to respect it. Just being there makes us feel lucky, so giving back what they offer to us is important to us. But by meeting alone for several days with three adults and two children whose language is not spoken at all and as a single instruction: « Rest »The question now is: how ?

CHAPTER 3 | EVERY DAY LIFE

BEFORE THE TIME

Davaa seems to want us to enjoy several days of rest in her absence and supports this will by the fact that a wave of cold is coming. Outside work will be difficult. Our sim card purchased from Ulaanbaatar allows us to have a little network: we consult the weather and its predictions are confirmed. Within a few days, it should be -25°C and more than thirty centimetres of snow should cover the landscape... Hard to imagine when you see this great sun.

You probably already have your weather app, but if you don't know it we advise you to test it. WeatherBlue It's the only one we use. It works all over the world, is super accurate and you can even enter GPS coordinates to know the forecasts for an exact location. Often, even in lost places, his predictions proved correct at the next hour!

So we have a few days before the winter storm arrives. Maybe five before Davaa came back. Only, always in this huge yurt, covered with sweaters, gloves and bonnet despite the sun and the small fireplace, we make a brief state of the situation: we are delivered to ourselves to people whose culture and language are totally alien to us, in a village cut off from the world with half-abandoned, with a snowstorm that promises. This is not really the beginning of Workaway that we imagined but, curiously perhaps, this perspective makes us... Happy. These months of nomadic life have surely given us a certain adaptability and to two, we have this treasure that is the ability... To rejoice little. The ambient cold and the announced polar temperatures only strengthen our excitement.

The journey is instructive: the more time you spend on the roads, the more you learn about yourself. In time we learned that this was one of the things that we especially liked in nomadic life: spending time (living) in a place where there is apparently nothing to do. It is often there that are the nice surprises.

WHEN HABITUDIES COMMENCE

Heating

Every day, we learn new things. We forget our habits to take Davaa's family. Without talking to each other, Nasa, her father, teaches us how to light and manage the fire in our craft stove. Essential to survival, it is understood why these flames that warm ice bodies are sacred in Mongolia. If we don't take care of it, the temperatures quickly fall in negative in the yurt. Every morning, this man, who is not able to give an age to cut wood unrelentingly, then, in his quiet step, a little staggering, he replenishes in turn the different homes: a pile for the fireplace of the great yurt (in which one takes refuge at each breakfast), a pile for the little cottage in which the family sleeps, a pile for our yurt. With modesty, he knocks at us (at home), gently drops his delivery and always refuses any help with a smile.

The bathroom

There is no running water or shower on the estate. So for the evening or morning toilet, everything is done sink installed in the big yurt : basically, it is a small wooden piece on which holds a water balloon of about 3 liters. By tilting the tip that goes beyond it, a thin thread is poured: it is enough to brush your teeth or make one « Cat toilet » with our solid soap (all under our clothes, since the whole is installed in sight of all in the big yurt). This small piece of furniture next to the entrance becomes our bathroom. It's pretty funny to wash in the dining room! When these are the evenings of « Large toilet », we dress up with thin and broad clothes and we go back and forth by trotting to avoid catching cold: the ice toilet does not clean up with the taiga winter temperatures! The advantage is that in the morning this clear water passed on our face certainly awakens us. And when we go out to the aurora walk by the banks to see the sun rise, fresh air from the mountains.

The kitchen

In the morning, it is also the time when we meet Miiga, Davaa's sister. To prepare each breakfast we join her in the kitchen. We know how to say hello in Mongolian ("Sound batha uu", pronounced "Sen Benoo") and while we cook our eggs in the ancient pan, we try to learn new words. Our clumsy essays make her laugh and if she doesn't feel very useful, we think it's at least that. After washing the dishes in the still-ice water basin, She shows us how we cook in Mongolian food.. Often, it is a question of cutting all kinds of vegetables and immerse them in the large pot placed on the pan. Then, of course, we add eternal sheepmeat. We know tonight's gonna be hot.

Family life

Children fill much of our days. We quickly get to know Maral's older brother, Anand. Day after day our presence has effect only to make the curiosity, excitement and energy An inexhaustible 7 and 10 year old duo. It's not uncommon that they come knocking with amazing force at our door « Come on, come on! ». Or that they come out of behind our screens when we work in the great yurt that acts as a common room (Davaa told us that she might have plans to create a communication medium for her camp, we are studying all its current media).

We play a lot in the open air. From 3pm, when the darkness starts to feel, we go in and warm up and sit on the sofa next to the bar. We put on music, sit down and watch our travel photos, show them where we live in France. Davaa began to teach them English, we laugh at the first time we hear Maral exclaimed "OH – MY – GOSH!" with the elegance of a Lady. Sitting at the bar, almost every day, Anand and Maral have us review the body parts in their language : the mouth ("am"), eyes ("nüdnüüd"), the nose ("khamar"), cheeks ("khatsar")... But you don't admit that you're not very good. Fortunately, they're patient.

Races

Finally, you can take advantage of the morning or the end of the day to explore the village and the surrounding area (you can only walk around). We used to go shopping in the middle of yaks. The village is not very large and the "centre" reaches in a few minutes walk. Between the desert streets, we meet more of these sweet animals than people. Far from being aggressive despite their impressive tile, they graze quietly. After three days we have our little favorite grocery store (There are three in the village). We have increased our efficiency (and inventiveness) in cooking our lunches (groceries that are limited to large living rooms with wooden shelves offer little more than rice, pasta, some canned, eggs, sweet dry cakes, lots of sweet dry cakes, a kind of spread paste and meat in the form of very (too) pink sausages packaged in plastic). And most importantly, We found Rose's. : the only restaurant in the city.

IN ROSE

Let's be clear: "At Rose" is neither the name of this little canteen nor the name of the one who treats everyone. If we gave him this emotional nickname, it's because of the top wooden panel under which we pass to access it. We are unable to attribute even a sonority to the Mongolian characters painted there, on the other hand from the first glance something has jumped our eyes: the beautiful and huge roses that are drawn there. Between us, the place became Rose's, and its owner at the same time.

Rose has a restaurant probably not larger than the majority of living / dining rooms of French households. She has a Velleda painting on which she writes every day what she can cook. She's the one who introduced us to khuusuurs* and to judge by the mountains which she places regularly on the tables Hungry workers, that's his specialty. Of course Rose doesn't speak English. At first, we order by discreetly designating the dishes already served. After a few days, we know how to recognize them on the table: khuusuurs / vegetable broths + sheep / pasta dishes + sheep. Little by little, you end up pushing the frail entrance door with confidence. You know the board you don't have to walk on to avoid getting an ankle. We joyfully greet Rose who laughs every time she sees us coming back (because we do not come back every day, but almost). And we soak with greed our khuusuurs In our broth, like real Mongolians.

* The khuusuurs are our favorite Mongolian dish. These are meat donuts/slippers (usually sheep) simmered with salt, onions, spices and all cooked... In fat (usually sheep). Rich, but so good!

Every noon the wooden tables and old chairs do not fill, we understand why. When sometimes you lack motivation to cook, you quickly succumb to the temptation to come see Rose and eat good hot dishes for a few centimes.

CHAPTER 4 | VOLONTARIAT 3.0

THE DAY AFTER

The days take place at the rhythm of the sun and more watches. There's no more Mondays, Saturdays, Sundays... nor, therefore, Week. We are the day before the snowy episode announced. The day was filled with a bright sunlight. After helping Miiga and his father to carry heavy water cans in their cottage and then in the kitchen to renew the reserves, we take the time to land, sitting on the logs that tomorrow will be cut off. It's very fresh, as usual, but we're well protected under our fleece / downholstery / socks and scarves both of yak hair (we had bought them from the big popular market in Ulaanbaatar). It is only 4:30 p.m. and the sun begins to pass behind the mountains. Nasa spreads the laundry. Everything is calm, his gestures are delicate and bathed in the halo of the last rays. Smoke is slowly escaping from the village chimneys. Here, at this very moment, We feel good without really knowing why. It's curious, the way you remember certain moments. Yet they are sometimes anodized, without apparent importance, but for some unknown reason they are there, engraved in our memory.

We know that we have an hour before dusk ends to icing air more. We're going for a walk. The children want to accompany us but we understand that Miiga their intimate of us « leave alone ». He is made to understand that they can come and that it will be with pleasure, but she makes a gentle sign to go and enjoy our getaway. It's crazy the point of honor this family never "dangers us." Although we're here because they need help, our comfort always seems to have to pass before theirs. This feeling has often been repeated in Mongolia. We send a sign to the children who are climbed to the gates to watch us leave and we step away. Part of the village is already in the shade but on the other side of the lake, Taiga redness under the heat of the last rays. The breath of the animals forms small volutes of steam in the icy fields. Although we've been here for several days already, the contrasts and beauty of this place grab us, again. The sky is so clear that we lose hope that tomorrow the surrounding area will be completely covered with snow.

We come home: we must warm our yurt story that it does not turn into a freezer. Nasa's coming to help us get out of the fire that we let go of the day. Our stove is quite old and small, maybe a little too full of ashes, But the grandfather has more than one trick under his hat. With a big smile and after several vain attempts, he pulls out a torch. The flames soon took hold. We go out and look with satisfaction at the smoke escaping from our yurt. This simple but so sweet vision is vector of comfort... Unsuspected.

We quickly swallow our meal in the common yurt (it is cold) and then spend time with Maral and Anand. Maxime raises them by turning them around, which makes them laugh. They run everywhere with our portable speaker they love, we make photos, we exchange our shoes (yes...) until after 8pm. It's late for here. We have to go to bed: the duo is recalled by Miiga. We make a hot tea that we take back to our yurt. which is now well warmed.

Around the frying pan, a feast is made as a dessert with the finds of the day (some kind of small cakes rolled a little dry on which you spread the famous spread paste, all roasted on the pan). We spend time talking by the fire, sitting between our socks and other stuff that dries hanging at the Hunnu (the wooden slats on which the roof rests). When we go to bed, we look out again to watch the "storm"... But there's only a slight veil of clouds. Well, while we're waiting for the duvet, it's still very cold: we probably won't have any snow, but we can surely count on the -25° announced.

AND THE BRUN ABANDONNA TAIGA

Morning. 7:00. We open the door of our yurt and instead of brown we are surprised to discover a landscape... All white. Our meteorologists instincts are to be reviewed. The "storm" took place, but in the night: She covered everything in her way.. The wind seems to have blown well: if it left only a few centimetres of white film in exposed places, it also formed large mounds that sometimes happens to us until half-tuckles. In front of our door and around our yurt, we find more than 30cm of fresh snow. The sky is thick grey and you can not see much further than the high barriers. A few flakes still fall a little... Nasa's already out there. With his shovel, he undertook to clear the various passages on the estate: from their cabanne to the great yurt, from our yurt to the great yurt, and then the large entrance gate.

We dress and go to meet him. Snow has that power to turn us into children. Our enthusiasm makes him laugh. Maxime offers him his help but as usual Nasa refuses politely: his excuse today is that he only has one shovel. The closer we go, the more we feel admiration for this man and the work he does every day, all alone... Without ever leaving his smile or his hat. We are certain that if we were to perform such physical tasks (if only to cut this huge amount of wood with the axe every day) we would soon be in a state of curvature, or more, despite the thirty/forty years we have less than him. Our bodies grew up with the comfort of life in Western Europe...

The breakfast is prepared (i.e., grill bread on the fireplace, add spread paste and fill a bowl of yak cheese with blueberry jam; This morning, no pink egg sauces!). In the big yurt, the cold is hot. Much more than usual. On the ceiling, ice formed around the circular opening. Actually looking at it, it even snows inside... Maybe tomorrow we'll have breakfast under stalactites?

Go to the kitchen where we find Miiga who sends us a big smile behind her pot. We want to do the dishes but the sponge is prisoner of the ice that formed in the basin. She asked Nasa to cut more wood. Maxime takes the opportunity to take the shovel and finish her work. The children are well warm and the snow always falls outside: a day on/under the duvets is announced! It's good, because we have news from Davaa. We have been discussing a project with her for a few days. She didn't want to give us a job until she got back, but since she's still stuck in the capital without knowing for how long, today she gives us the green light: the project that she had in mind for a little while to her camp is officially launched Hey! We will take care of the production of its brochure. We have camera and computer, basic software, inspiration and a little experience for writing texts, as well as knowledge in editing / communication: we promise him within a few days a pretty brochure that she can print. She seems enthusiastic. We also have to be able to make ourselves useful.

TELÉTRAVAIL SINCE A YOURT

We spend the day warm and start making a model. At lunchtime, we cook rice using a large pool of snow that our stove ends up melting and boiling. It gives us an idea: tonight, We'll have the luxury of having a hot water toilet in our yurt. Hey! Around 5:00 the night has already fallen. We didn't see the time pass. Miiga knocks on our door: she has the kindness to bring us two huge bowls of big soup pasta. At that time, We are the children and she is Santa Claus. We eat our meal sitting in a tailor on our duvet. As usual, we grill our bread (rasis) on our good old skillet. We soak it all over and over in the hot broth... And we're good.. There, at the other end of the world, among those careless strangers we have the opportunity to do a little service, to melt snow to wash and with the impression that rassis bread soaked in large pasta broth is a luxury 4*. At that time, that's what we dreamed of.

Bonus – The sauna anecdote.
Travel anecdote n°13: end in underwear in the snow and in the night by -15°.

Much too happy with our good meal that evening, the snow masses surrounding our home and the new icy night ahead, we have the brilliant idea of fill our stove with big logs in order to spend a night warmer than others (it is always very cold in the morning when we wake up because the fire goes off after a few hours, if we do not get up in the night to maintain it).

As planned, the heat rises. Usually in a sweater, it starts to make so soft that for the first time in a long time you find yourself in a T-shirt. The heat continues to rise. We're getting really hot. We take off our jogging and even our... Socks! This, here, it was us. Really. Never arrived. A few minutes later, the heat becomes... Unbearable. I'm in underwear on the bed, the stove has become a real heat plant, the yurt is far too well insulated: I'm wet and Maxime who can even less withstand the heat is melting. He can't even be in contact with the duvet anymore. and rotates around the bed like a lion in a cage (a yurt yak). This time we can say: the stove is Incandescent And the yurt turned into a real... Sauna! I see he won't stand up to the situation for a long time and laughs at the idea of what he's gonna do. He sometimes opens the door to try to get the temperature down, but that's not enough. As soon as it closes, we feel like we're in a sauna again.

Then what had to happen: with great strides, he decided to put an end to the torture and walked on the door. In underwear, he goes out and sinks into the night, into the snow. And he stops there. I hear breathing full of lungs with great sighs of relief. There are several minutes left, dressed in a boxer between 2flocons under the stars. I get up in my turn and just walk through the door. We laugh at our beginner mistake and take the opportunity to observe the starry sky. We definitely don't have the art of Nasa to control the sacred fire!

The next day is divided between exploring the ice banks and working on the brochure. In the morning, we have the pleasure of opening our door on a big sun. Under its light, the ground and icy yurts sparkle. The heat of the rays creates mist over the lake. Even before breakfast, we put on our hiking shoes and venture into this extraordinary setting. The air is fresh, the landscape is frozen. The ice crystallized its beauty.

TRUE WORKAWAY EXPERIENCE

From now on, our daily lives are divided between these times of immersion in nature, working behind the screens... And games with the kids. We write texts, work on photos, cooking French pancakes for the family (we have managed to find what it takes by searching our grocery store), made proposals to mount in Davaa... From now on, our exchanges are by email. And between two exchanges, the malicious duo knocks on our door to make snowball battles : « Come on! Just... Two minutes! ». The cool temperatures do not allow the powdery powder to melt, and this is so much better.

At the first battle (snow), Maral and Anand do not have gloves. If this one is more careful, for Maral, it is her warrior temperament that takes over: she frantically makes balls that she throws in great bursts of laughter without looking sensitive to the cold. But after a few minutes, when the rhythm slows down, she looks at her hands in a grimace and starts crying while rubbing them. Snow acts like bites and its fingers must be painful. I'm taking mine off to give it to him. The following picture emerges and, as she looks at the pair of gloves she now wears, wonder what makes her happier Wear our stuff or feel his fingers warm.

The following day, our morning telework session from the yurt was again interrupted by knocks at the door: « Who's it? » "- Maraaaal!" "- Ok, you can open the door!". And here's the door that opens on a Maral proud to show us her new gloves... Plastic Hey! Anand follows her closely. They both spend time with us in the yurt, they look with curiosity at all our things.

Many people ask us if it has not been hard for us to live for more than a year with « so little » (just a backpack), but when we look at Maral and Anand, « so little » Yet it seems to turn our room into a cavern of Ali-Baba in their eyes: hiking shoes, our various clothes in our vented backpacks, our socks that always hang on the ceiling, the enclosure they love, the cables, batteries, our tent, our stainless steel cups and our bamboo cutlery, our filter gourd, our toiletry...

They quickly spot the spread dough. And as their eyes shine with greed, we make them our specialty: roasted pan spreads.

We all spend a long time in the heat. The way these children seem to appreciate our presence affects us. And that feeling is mutual. We end up showing them the work we do for their mom, who is almost done. They laugh by hiding their faces when you do mysteries to show them... That they appear in a photo of the brochure. He will follow another long battle since these new gloves have to be tested and today, We can even make a snowman..  

By noon we'll reach Miiga. This time she's with a friend and together they make pasta. We prepare lunch with them. The heat generated by cooking warms the room a little, like this ray of sun that passes through the window to sit on it, while it cuts with application all its vegetables into thin strips. For his part, Nasa goes around the estate: the snow has melted well. He's cutting wood, making supplies. Everything is clean, ordered. On the girl side, as on the father side, we can see this love of work well done.

For our part we have made good progress on the brochure and this afternoon we offer a longer walk. We've spotted a hill overlooking the village and it's been a while since his ascent trots us in the head. On the way we meet a family (two parents and two children) on a motorcycle: apparently our presence deserves more attention than the how the wheels of the vehicle hunt from right to left on the slippery mud and snow floor. We always meet yaks. Although we've actually gotten used to these animals and we're now confidently greeting them (we're close to the check) our level of serenity knows a episode pretty low when we have to pass in the middle of a dense herd to reach our destination. One ends up overcoming the obstacle, then moving away from the village by climbing the slope.

As we move away we encounter animals of all kinds: small rodents, herds, wild puppies and... A wolf? When we reach the forest, the white soil is dotted with the orange thorns of the conifers. Between two trunks, it appears as a mirage. This is the first and last time we will see him. We know there are in this area. We finally reach the promontory: the panorama embraces the lake and the cloud of colorful roofs that detach itself from the immaculate soils. We sit by the sacred ribbons. The lights are soft... It's a nice end of the day. Then we go home: tonight it's a hot hour (we bought beers and chips), even hot... We're doing the sauna mistake again. We send the final version of the brochure to Davaa, and we open a second beer to celebrate.

CHAPTER 5 | WHY AN END IS MADE

WORK ACCOMPLISHED

Annième exit of the dry toilet in the open air, passage to the "bathroom", breakfast near the fireplace under the dome that reveals the clear sky... Without getting tired of all this. The cleaner our daily life, the more we grow. This morning, between two spoons of yak cheese with blueberries we have the pleasure of receiving an email from Davaa: she received our brochure and read that she seems particularly happy Gives us a smile. In addition to the brochure, she also provided a set of photos taken during our stay, which she can use for her various media. She thanks us by telling us that she could never have done this work alone and we think that there is all the interest of this great experience : an exchange of good processes, of services, through the common provision of personal riches (as diverse as they are: immaterial, spiritual, moral... Probably even more than material).

She announces to regret that she still does not know how long she can return here... But we are told that she will enjoy being in the capital to have her brochures printed (she should have made the trip anyway for this reason had she been here). We sit at our small wooden table and are shared between the happiness of a job done and regret... To think that we will surely not be able to meet Davaa. We have been here for almost ten days now: if we don't have a specific end date, we do know that these are the last days we spend with this family. Although our presence does not seem to disturb us (according to our personal feelings and the messages of Davaa who, relaying his discussions with his father, children and sister, entrusts us that our presence is appreciated at the camp) we do not want to be dependent on the family for too long, We're done with our work. We consider that they have already brought us more than we could give them. By one day, or two, the time to get ready... It'll be time to leave.

FIRST TIME IN STOP

Today is a special day: under the first lights, Maxim woodcut with Nasa. The old man in the cap is inside when he sees him clumsyly trying to crack a log. He gives him his secret techniques and as a good student Maxime ends up doing very well. To laugh, he told Nasa that this morning it will be him (Nasa) who will eat while we cut wood. Also, Miiga and her friend start for the first time (since our arrival) family 4×4. Today they surrender... Municipal shower! They ask us if we want to join them but our hygiene methods « molten snow + solid soap + stone » are rather effective and sufficient for us. On the other hand, there's an idea in our heads: Maybe they could drop us off at the bridge level up the village?

This bridge is the only way to get to the other bank of the immense lake, this "other land" full of mysteries that seemed inaccessible to us until now. We show them our plan to take a short hike to explore this other side. They agree. We're preparing for a picnic, and we're all on the 4×4. Always of great benevolence, instead of dropping us off at the bridge, they cross it and take us three good kilometers on the tidy slopes. We need to insists so that they may lay us down so that they may go to their occupations.

Several hours later, after wandering in the icy immensity, we reach the track where they dropped us off and decides to test the stop to avoid coming home after nightfall. We walk there, without great hope, along the ice track now. The hills shine and are speckled with beige and black sheep who climb gently to enjoy the last rays. It's crazy how the paintings this region can offer seem... suspended in time. On these silent reflections a slight twist is heard. The miracle happened: on this deserted track, a motorcycle arrives and its driver stops at our height. He makes us sign up as if it were something natural. Meet three on his little motorcycle + our two bags doesn't seem to be a problem.. We find ourselves in sandwiches on the thin leather seat, the gear slips in every direction, I cling hard to the deel* Our driver, the landscape is unfolding. Soon, we'll pass the bridge again with trembling slats. Again, we get a good time on our itinerary and we go home... On a motorcycle.

* The traditional Mongolian coat.

THE TIME TO GO

We agreed to a day of departure with Davaa. This time, we will not meet, that's for sure. Early in the morning, we clean our yurt from bottom to bottom so that the family had nothing to do after we left. They will have been attentive to the end: since Miiga had been warned of our last night, She surprised us to prepare for the buuz for the evening meal. So that was why she remained mysterious about what she was preparing the morning in the kitchen! These large ravioli stuffed with meat and then steamed are a particularly popular dish in Mongolia. Their preparation takes time and therefore they are assimilated to festive meals. The kids are spoiled too!

We're getting used to making our bags. Every object has its place, every garment has its compartment. We end up organizing the ensemble quietly. It's about 9:00 when we pull the bags out of our "home"... And let us go around the estate. Everything is as peaceful as ever. Maxim cuts wood one last time with Nasa. One last tour in the big yurt, one last tour in the kitchen to see Miiga, last games with the children... Then everyone gathers at the gate. Thanks, goodbyes, Smiles. Nasa notes a few words in our little leather notebook. We keep the mystery of their meaning for the moment (in any case we have no choice). We'll have them translated later...

At 10:30, we are already far from the small family camp. We rush into a Uaz in the middle of the taiga. The image of colorful chalets and high barriers overlooking the lake flats in our head as the landscapes scroll. Luckily, the new person we have in our company is cheerful and dynamic enough to allow us not to be too nostalgic: she sits next to our driver and when she regularly turns to talk to us about what we are about to live, her eyes sparkle. She's called... Zaya. But this, It's another story..

SUMMARY | WHAT TO LEAD FROM THE 10 DAYS OF WORKAWAY TO MONGOLIA

The journey enriches us, immaterially speaking. This sentence is not written just because it's pretty: what we see, what we experience, those that we meet bring us a lot. It's a fact. But over the course of travel this idea becomes like... Guilty. > What about us? What do we bring to the countries we cross? To the people we meet? Is it fair to travel if this report is to single senseAll the time?

What interests us in the WorkawayIt is to be able to equalize this ratio a little. To be able to give in return in a way other than financially. But also (at the level of human relations): to experience more authentic one or more tourist services rich than a solo adventure. In summary, we see in the Workaway (and other types of volunteering) a way to experience/discover a country differently by focusing on human relations. We like this feeling not to have travel but to have lived somewhere: this is what the Workaway, to some extent, makes possible, while integrating the best into the local population. And above all: by making themselves useful.

Although we were unable to meet Davaa, this is what we learn from this experience: the pleasure of having the feeling of being part of a family, of having habits in a previously unknown place, of being able to help, Even if we would have liked to be able to do more. This report, which is intended to be equal and mutual recognition without necessarily having a financial concept, is something we appreciate.

For this Workaway there, we were also lucky (that's what we wanted) to experience a very different way of life from ours, a clean daily in an isolated place where people live a very different way of life (there are also Workaways which consist of holding the reception of a hotel in a metropolis, for example). And this purification was also what we were looking for. : it's a very personal feeling but (as we said in this account) the easier our daily life becomes / the less we have things around us... Better we tend to feel. Enjoy a smoke that escapes from the fireplace, have snow to melt to boil your meal, find some eggs on the shelves of a small grocery store, run the water carefully, sit on a log of wood to listen to the silence... And forget that time is constantly cut: in seconds, hours, days, weeks... Years.

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