I Grew My Boobs in China (41 page)

Chapter 34

Recharge

When I walked into the grungy hostel in
Ulaanbaatar
the second time, I welcomed the sight of the dark dorm room with its twenty unwashed beds. I was even excited by the tiny drizzle of a shower located down the unlit hallway in the back. It somehow didn’t seem so dreary anymore. I saw a half-naked brunette guy, probably in his early twenties, sweating in the bed that had once been mine. Ammon’s former bed was not occupied so he promptly reclaimed it. The little yellow post-it notes Sandra had given us, each marked with a date and a smiley face, were still stuck to the wall from when Ammon had pulled that day’s note off and stuck it near wherever he was sleeping. Nothing had changed; the place not only felt dirty, it
was
dirty. Even the air felt like the same stale air I’d breathed two weeks earlier. As I threw my daypack on a bed to claim it, I peeked at the guy sleeping in my old one and wondered who else had slept in this bed?
Had he been fat? Hairy, perhaps?
I wiped the sheets down, keeping an eye out for curly back hairs, in particular.

But despite the filth and wondering why we couldn’t afford a more luxurious hotel for $5 a night, it had a cozy, home-like effect on me. It was a familiar place, something I recognized, and I found myself craving that feeling more often lately. Plus, I knew exactly where and how to get on the Internet here.

I was disappointed when I opened up my email to find only four new messages.
Two whole weeks, and that’s all I got?
My heart sank as I glanced over at the sixteen Bree had in her inbox.

I opened my inbox and read a short one from Terri telling me that nothing much was going on, but I didn’t believe her.
How could she say that? She at least has a comfy bed and a hot shower. She has the whole world at her feet!
I couldn’t help but feel stressed over her choice of friends since I’d left. She had started to hang out with the partying type, and I was worried, threatened, and perhaps even a bit jealous.

There was one piece of junk mail, which I hate as much as the next person, and another was an informative one from Grandma about home that asked lots of questions. My heart fluttered when I saw that the last one was from Grady, particularly when I glanced over to Bree’s screen and saw that she had not received one from him. I couldn’t believe he’d written and it made me blush. He was
her
friend, after all. My smile widened as I considered reasons why he might have written to me.

It was also really nice to finally be able to check the blog again and read the comments, since it had been blocked in China. There were a few more there which also cheered me up.

**hey family!!!

omg it sounds like you guys are having a blast:

(...i'm sooo jealous:(...I wish i was with you guys....

i miss you guys tons

luv your sis/daughter

Terri

I’ve missed you guys. I wish I could see you

when we land in Cherry Point, it sounds like

there’s going to be a lot of people waiting.

Please be safe but have fun.

I love you, Sky

savannahi miss u like crazy!!!!   

welli miss the whole family!!!

momi need u!!!

luv your sis/daughter

Terri**

I did feel a degree of guilt and sadness, knowing how important we were in her life. After we left I was afraid she might feel as if she’d been neglected for the second time, since Terri and her twin brother had already been abandoned by their mother as infants. This had left her father a very busy single parent trying to juggle the needs of three kids under the age of four along with his crazy emergency room schedule. They were raised by this glorious man who, to the best of his ability, covered all the parental roles imaginable. Not wanting to ditch Terri we had initially invited her to join us on our one year excursion. Her dad had actually considered the invitation but decided against it on the basis of school being a priority. I often dreamed of what it would’ve been like if she had come but I knew her dad had a valid argument.

I finally managed to get onto Microsoft Network (MSN) and have a live chat, which was very exciting. I started up a conversation with a guy from school, Tony, though I honestly couldn’t recall how I’d got him on my contact list. He was someone I had never really talked to, likely because he was more popular than me. When he said I was the luckiest person he’d ever known, I was amazed that my own peers, even guys I never had the courage to talk to, were not only acknowledging my presence but complimenting me because of this trip! I couldn’t believe it.

I worked up a sweat just sitting in the small, stuffy Internet hut for an hour, so I took a cold shower and then sat quietly with my thoughts.

“Don’t get too comfy, Savannah. We’re only staying three days for the festival, then we’re out of here,” Ammon said when he saw me grinning. Though I was happy to be clean again and comforted a bit by being in a familiar place, it was the thought of Grady’s email that accounted for the smile on my face.

The next morning, Baagii joined us as we headed out to watch the Naadam Festival’s opening ceremonies that included horses, ballroom dancing, and rap music. Sukhbaatar Square was full of onlookers as nine men, dressed in dazzling red and blue, super-hero-looking outfits and holding sacred horse tails, assembled in front of their horses and then mounted to parade around the city.

Bree managed to trip over someone in the commotion and Baagii rushed over and gave her a strange look.

“What?!” she asked.

“You have to shake his hand!” he said, turning her so she faced the man waiting patiently behind her.

“What do you mean?”

As he led her by the elbow, he explained quietly in her ear, “It is custom. If you kick someone’s foot you
have
to shake their hand.”

“Okay!” She laughed and did as she was told. “If I had known that, I’d have kicked yours ages ago!” That lame comment started them both giggling away.

Suddenly I saw two familiar faces in the crowd. “Hey, there’s Tom and Sarah!” I said, pointing.

“Oh, hey! Small world,” Tom greeted us. You can’t imagine how cool it feels to be in a totally different country and bump into people you know, just like you might casually run into a neighbour at a mall back home.

“There’s a guy who just got robbed. You should watch your stuff,” they informed us.

“Yah, we heard some similar stories at our hostel,” Ammon responded. At that time, Ammon had told us that it shouldn’t change our opinion of the local people, that thieves are drawn to crowds anywhere in the world and every country has them. Mom reminded us that although our larger group would discourage theft, we still needed to stick together and watch each other’s backs. The camera strap was always wrapped safely around one of our wrists.

As if the world isn’t bad enough with people killing each other!
Ammon seemed to read my mind and asked, “Hey, did you guys read about the bombs?”

“Bombs?!”Tom repeated, a bit stunned.

“Yah. A bunch exploded in the U.K. this week,” Ammon confirmed with a remorseful nod.

“What? No! What happened? Was anyone hurt? Where did it happen?”

“On subways across the city and on a bus in Tavistock Square in London. A bunch of people died, about fifty or so. They’re saying it was a terrorist attack.” Ammon had read about it that morning on the Internet and told us, but it didn’t affect me until I saw the shaken look on Tom’s face.

“My sister takes that train to work every day! I have to get on the Web. Is there a place nearby? You guys enjoy the festival. We’ve gotta go check and see if everyone at home is alright!” Without waiting for a response, they rushed off.

International news stories were normally too distant to affect me, but seeing someone’s personal reaction firsthand really hit home. It became much more real to me when I saw how directly he was affected by having family and friends to worry about. This was more than just headlines above photos; my desensitized emotions, which could hardly distinguish between “fake action movie” and reality, were newly awakened and I developed a whole new perspective. 

It was hot when we arrived at the National Sports Stadium where the rest of the three-day festival was held. From the bleachers, we watched archery, wrestling, and horse-racing competitions. The wrestlers wore Speedo-like blue “underwear” and tiny red jackets, which essentially were just sleeves that left their chests fully exposed. The winner of each round performed a traditional, birdlike victory dance, prancing in circles with outstretched arms slowly flapping. The whole celebration passed as if in a dream and did not move me, perhaps because my mind was simply somewhere else again.

“Do you guys know why they have those outfits? With the tiny vests?” Ammon asked.

“Because they have to wear the first jacket they ever trained in?” Bree guessed.

“Not quite, Bree. But I know you’ll love the answer. One year a woman won, but women aren’t allowed to compete, so now, they bare their chests to make sure they are all men.”

“I thought that’s what the tiny little Speedos were for,” Bree quipped as my mind wandered off again.
I can’t believe Grady wrote me.
--- “just like sumo wrestlers” ---
Does he finally see me as something more than just “the little sister?”

“Savannah, are you here at all? This is the biggest yearly festival in Mongolia! Why aren’t you paying attention?” Ammon urged.

“I am! I heard the bums hanging out part!” I said defensively.

“That was Bree’s contribution, and it was pretty useless, as usual. Did you hear what the nine sacred tails are all about?”

“Nope, missed that. Please tell me,” I replied.
I wonder if he misses me. He SAID he missed me, but is that just being nice? I can’t believe he wrote me. ME! Does that mean he cares? Or is he just being polite? But he didn’t write Bree. That must mean he really does want to talk to me.

When we’d changed schools a few years back, Grady had quickly become Bree’s best guy friend. I vividly remembered the day she’d called upstairs to me, “Savannah, come down here! You’ve gotta talk to my buddy. He’s so freaking funny!”

“I’m busy!!” I’d foolishly yelled back.

She came up at that point, took me by the wrist and said, “You can do that later. C’mon!”

I was a goner the moment I heard his voice on the phone. A strange, vague vision washed over me and I thought to myself, “I will marry him.” I didn’t know what he looked like. In fact, I knew nothing about him except that his name was Grady and that I loved him. When I saw him for the first time with his zits, crooked teeth, and big, wild hair, none of it mattered because, well, I was already hooked. I was twelve years old then, and at fifteen, my feelings hadn’t changed.
But how to make him see?!
All my sibling’s friends treated me like a bratty little sister – everyone but Grady, who made me feel like an equal.

On top of this, I couldn’t believe that Tony, who I considered to be way out of my league socially, had said he was jealous of MY
life!! Life was good!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Bree returned to the hostel after spending time with Baagii and informed us that he was unable to get time off to come with us on the next adventure. She was, of course, sorely disappointed by this news. I found myself actually having mixed feelings. I had come to appreciate Baagii in the two weeks we’d all spent together touring the countryside, but I did like the idea of having my sister to myself again.

Fortunately, he had managed to arrange our next trip. That evening, a man with a big friendly smile stumbled out of a little silver minivan, and Baagii introduced Future, saying, “This is my good friend and your new driver! He is going with you to the Gobi Desert!”

Chapter 35

Sand Traps and Good Samaritans

“What? You do not trust me?” Future asked as Ammon buckled his seatbelt in the front passenger seat.
Oh yah, right,
I thought, as I slowly released my own, remembering Baagii’s warning on the previous trip that in Mongolia, wearing a seatbelt is an insult to the driver. I hadn’t really worn one since we left home; in fact, I’d hardy even seen one.

When we met Future, he’d invited us to come to his little apartment in the city. He was an affable guy, clean shaven and just a few years older than Ammon. He was larger in breadth and height than the average Mongol, who was, on average, a bit taller than the average Chinese.

“You are my first foreign guests ever in my house,” he’d proudly announced, and we happily toasted that statement with either “Cheers!” or “Togtooyo!” That honour did nothing to calm my nerves about the journey we were about to take, but on the strength of Baagii’s recommendation, we’d set off together into the Gobi Desert two days later.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I’d questioned the night before as we packed our few belongings.

“Yah, of course it is! It’ll be fine,” Ammon declared. “We’ve got a vehicle and the only way you get around this country, it seems, is by stopping for directions every time you get a chance. And Future speaks the language, so it’s all good. What could go wrong?” I would’ve liked to have said, “How do we know he’s not going to chop us into little pieces, or just leave us out there?” But I knew they would have none of that, and that I’d only end up looking like a wimp.

“This’ll be great! And it’s a lot cheaper than the last tour,” Ammon bragged.

“Yah, by how much?A few cents?” I inquired.