Landlocked between the largest and most populated countries in the world, Russia to the north and China to the south, east and west lies Mongolia, an intriguing place where past and present seem to co-exist. While Ulan Bator is as modern as a capital can be, half an hour drive away from it, I feel as if I have entered a different era. Dominating the vast, empty landscape where I am the only thing separating the earth and the sky are nomads on horseback herding livestocks or working around their gers, a form of portable housing in Mongolia.
I knew Mongolia as soon as I was old enough to carry the ID of my uncle or aunt to the video stores and rented Chinese costume dramas. These made-in-Hong Kong films were the primary sources of entertainment for many Vietnamese of my generation. I skipped extra lessons, spent many sleepless nights, endured the wrath of my father to follow the romance and adventure of my favorite characters.
My name is Cindy, also rhymes with travel junkie. A friend said I was probably a gipsy in my previous life. One of my many secret missions in life is to convert you to run off every once in awhile.
