Eagle Dreams by Stephen Bodio

Author:Stephen Bodio
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781629149295
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2015-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CANAT WAS HORRIFIED THAT I MOSTLY WORE NO HAT; HE thought I’d die. Usually at home in the winter I wear western style, i.e. “cowboy,” felt hats, which keep one’s head surprisingly warm despite their lack of ear protection. I had bought a geeky synthetic Snoopy helmet from a good outdoor company, but when I saw myself in the mirror I looked so idiotic that I refused to wear it except to save my life. Ed had a sensible sheepskin hat, Turkmen style, very much part of the culture. He had also outfitted himself with a pair of Mongol suede boots in Ulaan Bataar. Canat didn’t trust my expensive pacs, though they had withstood many Montana winters. “You need Kazakh boots, Kazakh hat,” he advised. So we went shopping.

Canat soon found me a traditional Kazakh hat. It was made of fox skin, with a peak and backing of bright red watermarked silk. Fox skin flaps could be tied together on top, or left free to cover your ears. Another flap provided neck protection, or could be tucked up under the flaps. It fit perfectly and was the warmest thing I ever put on my head. I had doubts about the red color, which seemed garish, but Canat insisted that it was traditional. “Besides,” he added, “eagle probably caught these foxes.” I was easily persuaded to buy it, for about $20 American.

We left the bazaar to look for boots. Olgii’s other stores were concentrated in still another suite of old government buildings. They were dark and unlit, like the money-changer’s office in UB, and contained an amazing selection of goods. One was devoted almost entirely to more kinds of vodka than I ever dreamed existed, from foil-capped labelless local brands, through Stolichnaya (very cheap), and, amazingly, American Smirnoff (even more amazingly, the most expensive in the store.) The spaces between vodka bottles and cases were filled with endless cans of German beer.

But we could find not a single pair of boots for sale. Finally Canat suggested that if we drove by his house he would lend me a pair. Siassi was already eager to be home, but he agreed, if, we would hurry.

The outskirts of town turned, uncannily, into a New Mexican village. The resemblance was deep rather than superficial. In Carruthers and Lattimore I had seen flat-roofed adobe houses with rows of projecting beams, called vigas at home, under the eaves. I had seen no such thing in Mongolia proper, but suddenly I was surrounded by them. What’s more, the fences around the yards were identical to our coyote fences—pales of skinny tree-trunks, with the bark still on, provided protection for goats, sheep, and horses. Only the blue doors—crescent and star on one, a mosque—looked exotic.

I pulled out a photo of my own humble four-room rock and adobe house, with its flat roof and backyard cottonwood, bare in a flat, cold winter light. Canat whooped. “You live in a Kazakh house!” he exclaimed. “We have trees like this. And look,” he pointed at my windows.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.