There was a giant tongue on the table yesterday, only the second time I've seen such a thing. The first time was two weeks ago in Choer on our way to the Gobi. I've managed all my life to avert my eyes in butcher shops not to see the glossy heaps of internal organs and the neatly folded pink tongues, but these lads could not be avoided. Having already eaten my body weight in meat here, I am reverting to my vegetarian default setting. This baffles Mongolians who, like Spaniards and Tibetans, are raging carnivores. We three Irish got very excited about the potatoes yesterday, served for the first time. (You can't help your background.) Mongolian spuds are indeed delicious. Not floury, but tasty nonetheless. I have also observed something else. Mongolian people can be horsey-looking - brown, dark eyes, long features, black manes - and many Irish people do look like potatoes.
I was born in Ireland and grew up in Toronto, Canada with my seven sisters and two brothers. Left home at seventeen to live in a commune, then headed off across Canada with my pal, Carole, and we hitch-hiked around California for months, then back up to Vancouver(Van as we called it then) and across Canada with two more pals, Linda and Peggy. A year later, headed off to Malaysia and Borneo with Jeunesse Canada Monde/Canada World Youth for a year. Baik-lah! Back home, went to Trinity College at the University of Toronto (posh blokes) while also joining the Canadian Naval Reserve as an Officer Cadet. Trained on the east and west coasts of Canada every summer. Great fun. Then what? Hmm. Started to write books, dodgy personal life (that's personal but let's just say it's been a long time between drinks) started to wander around the world, had a darling daughter, settled down in Ireland, wrote more books.