The Nomadic Alternative

Ondorkhaan, Mongolia — I met this guy one day and got to talking.  He told me his name was “Ice,” and that he was a professional musician with a band and also a kickboxing champion.  I followed him into a nearby theater.  He took me backstage and played a couple almost recognizable pieces on the piano; I think it was Elton John.  We talked about this and that and then he invites me to go drink vodka with him.  I didn’t feel like drinking right then; actually, I didn’t feel like drinking with him.  

“I can’t drink now,” I told him.

“You are tourist?” he asks me.

“Something like that.”

“So you have time?”

“Sure, I have time.”

“Of course! Tourist is tourist!” he announces. “Tourist have time.  We drink vodka.”

“But I’m tired now.”

“You are man! Man is man!”

“What do you mean?

“Man drink vodka!”

“I know, maybe we can drink some other time.”

“Tourist is tourist!  Man is man!”

I said goodbye to him and started walking away.  Behind me he kept calling out, “Tourist is tourist!  Man is man!”