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The moonlight shone through the roof opening of the smoke-filled yurt. I could make out at least a dozen faces. The entire nomad family had gathered to welcome me—the guest of honor. Mongolian hospitality is legendary. Earlier that day, I had watched, cringingly, as the men ripped the testicles out of their sheep. The logic of sterilizing an entire herd for a single weary traveler still puzzles me. An elder had ceremoniously handed me a bowl. Two beige, oval shapes were floating in the milky liquid. He was staring into my eyes with a toothless smile, everyone was waiting. | ||
-Yannick |
Yannick – you’re awesome!
Oh baby, that’s nasty. But a very cool and unusual ritual. I’d be honoured too if people castrated their sheep for me.
Hey Yannick, did you eat or drink the soup?
I think I asked for seconds 🙂