What is it out there?

It was the first day of February, my last week in UB, four days left before I hit the road for home. No matter how low the temperature broadcasted on TV was, I was determined to venture out to see what it was out there. I knew I wouldn't go far, I would be contented to know what the community could offer to the neighborhood of 3000 residents.

I put on the heavy outfit to try my luck at noon. I walked to the supermarket at the corner 100 meters from where I lived, bought a small pack of cookies in order to have small changes in hand just in case I decided to hitchhike a cab to downtown. I walked around the back of the apartment complex, I could identify Enkhee's apartment immediately. The tin rectangular flower pot hung on the balcony looked distinct where the sparrow family would flock together to enjoy the crumble breakfast every morning. After strolling for 500 meters, my hands and feet began frozen. I hated to surrender to the coldness, but I had to find a shelter, and I walked into a small restaurant at a quarter past 12.

I was lucky. The artifical leather cover of the menu was written in Chinese and English. The contents were in Mongol and English. I ordered a cup of coffee, took out "The Gift of CHANGE" by Marianne Williamson from my bag, watched pedestrians, young and old, walking on the street, observed the customers in and out of the restaurant. I clang to the raditor to keep my my feet warm most of the time while reading the book. God must have granted mercy to a poor middle-aged woman from a tropical island in the Pacific Ocean.

The restaurant business was good with patrons from all walks of life, office ladies, policemen, college students. Maybe there were no specific time slots for lunch, afternoon tea, dinner in the cold Mongolia. At a quarter past 3, I ordered a sizzling plate of fried potato with meat to satisfy my curiosity how Mongolians cooked the food. I was not particularly hungry, but I finished everything on the plate. At 4, I paid the bill and walked home.

On my way home, I walked in the internet right across of the supermarket at the corner. It was jam-packed with elementary school kids playing on-line games. All of them were indulged in the same war game. The lady internet shop keeper helped me get on line with window XP, and I tried to receive the emails from family and friends in Taiwan, but to my disappointment, I couldn't decipher the message in Mandarin. My feet began frozen again in less than 30 minutes, and I was eager to quit my adventure in the coldness for the day.