We had dinner with my boss and his wife, immediately before which we had whiled away the time they were abominably late (their Chinese friends’ flight was delayed/late) by making love, which I had told him would bring them when nothing else would, as one brings a swimsuit to ensure that on their trip they won't find a pool or swimming hole.
The next day Chilaajav brought his wife Oyuna to lunch with me in a restaurant called Modern Nomads since his Chinese poet friends might not like an American.
Anyhow they offered me a shot of strong vodka—this after Bairaa shoed me the inside to the jacket of one of his book covers, a book of love poems, and there are twelve photos of him with photos of different nationalities.
Chilaajav brought his wife to lunch with me in modern nomads since his Chinese poet friends might not like an American.
Visited the Gandan Monastery. Spun the spinning cylinders of bronze. Watched a group of adolescents with their cell phones and eyeliner touch one of the holy poles and walk around it clockwise three times.
I watched Oyunas brown fingers splayed on top of the washing macine as she tried to figure it out for me. I watched her wipe away a wisp of long hair. Like Russia, the majority of men here are average and don’t look after themselves very well and the majority of the women are drop-dead gorgeous.