The night before I left for Mongolia will always be a vivid memory for me. I remember going boating with my parents and my dad remarking on how calm I was. I remember my parents making the enchiladas I requested for dinner — knowing as little as we did about Mongolia, we did somehow know that enchiladas were about to become hard to come by for me.
I remember returning home to pack and abruptly losing my calmness as I found myself overreacting to the smallest things. What if this suitcase weighs more than 50 pounds? What will happen if I can’t lift this into the overhead compartment? What if Mongolian customs reject me? Petty questions that masked bigger, realer questions, like What if I don’t make friends? What if I’m homesick? What if I’m not happy in Mongolia?
Well, I have now been in Mongolia for nearly five months…
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