American Ger'ls

(I stole the title of this post from the name of a bar in UB.)

The next morning, we ate fried dough with jam and instant coffee (why is it so good when you're traveling?) in the dining ger, and then strapped on chaps and helmets and led our (very gassy) horses through the grasslands.

My horse, named Little Brown, was very slow and lazy—and being a city dweller and music editor doesn't make me an expert in horse whispering. So we wandered in the back, barely moving faster than a leisurely walk, to the Manzushir Monastery, which was mostly destroyed during the Russian purges.

Though it was nice to be outside and riding for the first time in years, five hours (especially with numerous breaks) was too long, and I found myself gritting my teeth and tearing up from the pain toward the end.

But the ride did eventually end, and we were greeted with a pop-up campsite and dinner, since Stepperiders arrived in a car with all of the supplies. It felt a little out of the spirit of roughing it to have someone drive up with our provisions, but after a long day, we were happy to leave our guides in charge of making dinner (soup with potatoes, peppers, carrot, onion, and mutton dumplings) and setting up the tents.

We ended the night playing cards with our guides, who introduced us to a new game: working with a limited deck, everyone passes one card to the right, and the first person to get four of a kind offers some sort of clue (like scratching your nose). The last person to pick up on the clue and imitate it has to do something silly—such as singing a song, dancing, making a figure 8 on a tree with your butt, or balancing a water bottle on your head.

And then, I knocked out before it was completely dark.