What a bizarre linguistic experience! The Japanese tourists I was travelling with did not speak English, and I don't speak Japanese. The only language we had in common was Chinese, and it turns out my chinese is ridicilously poor. So, I was struggling to communicate with Japanese tourists in Chinese, in Inner Mongolia of all places... Truly bizarre.
What a bizarre challange to my national identity! The thing that struck me in inner mongolia was the fact that much of the time, I could have been transported back to my childhood in Iceland. The plains, the horses, the sheep, the yoghurt... somehow I even felt a strange spiritual connection between the people descended from the Mongolians of Gengis Khan fame and the vikings. Of course 99% of the time I felt like I was very very far from home. But it was the odd moment when I would suddenly feel I was 5 years old in Iceland again. I felt strongly Icelandic for some reason. I don't feel that very often.
