The only grassland opened for us to visit at that time, Inner Mongolia, October 2008
This is our guide. He chain smoked while riding the horse, getting off the horse, relaxing against a stupa, chatting with another guide, getting back on the horse…you get the idea. Friendly in a gruff and blunt sort of way, he’s a character I’ve come across often in China, and one I find reassuring.
Sorry, I can’t remember his name, just as I can’t remember the name of the grassland – and this is why I should have started blogging earlier.
The only other thing I remember is that he told me that I had a knack for horse riding. I was quite pleased. I went through a brief horse obsession period that seemingly all girls go through as a child. Then he gestured at my French-Moroccan companion scowling down at her horse: “Certainly better than her, at least.” As a city girl born and bred, I refuse to let that minimize the compliment.
The background is basically what the entire grassland looked like for miles and miles around.