Looking out the window of the plane I see only open spaces. It is the third time in about 20 minutes that I have glanced over, looking for a ger camp in the landscape. I haven’t seen any white dots in the landscape for those 20 minutes of flight. When one appears in the wide, green expanse, it appears tidy on the banks of the winding river below. Each ger, a perfect white circle. This is some desolate, remote territory.
We have landed in Choibalsan.