The first time I was in Mongolia twenty-five years ago, my friend Kathleen and I were riding on a red and white bus with standing room only. We were returning from a day at the black market where I had bought necessities like a light bulb and toilet seat. The dilapidated bus lurched and when I looked up, a Mongolian woman was shaking hands with Kathleen. I thought someone was introducing herself, so I reached over to shake hands, too. The Mongolian looked at me a bit strangely. Later I learned the custom is … (read more)
