Home is where our body is our soul and feel at peace with the people we love. Our home is where we decided afincarnos, plant roots and watch the time go as the years chisel skin wrinkles. But for some land the roof of this house is as broad as the universe and takes endless forms sprinkled with stars like bright points of destination. For some land, nomads, that home is so broad that horses need to transit. Mongolia is that, it is a vast field of infinite ceiling, a plateau where grazing animals and ride intrepid riders stop their passage through the world to welcome all travelers seeking where guaracerse the cold.
Mongolia is a strange place. Its wide lands where waving green to the foot of the mountains spread like nobody space between China and Russia, a place where few imagine what lurks. Mongolia travel is a dream that I keep with affection, as that visit that resists but eventually come. But why visit Mongolia? What is there that can attract our eyes? There, friends, there is a world to discover.
I could spend hours listing each of the activities that I will make the day go there. The riders ride horses small but strong and they spread so fast that they can not sit. His world revolves around animals; enclose herd goats and cows with long hair called Yak and train hawks that hunt you can get into the pot to give the body energy. The camels roam free until near the Gobi desert nomads and use them to transport their shops, only shelter they have.
One day, I guess I'll put on a train and I'll slip on the tracks that cut Mongolia as a pit down to a solitary village and from there emprenderé the way to one of those stores where I drink sour milk Yak and at night I will go see the stars to rethink our home is where we are but above all, home is where we are happy.
