October 1997   About an hour and a half outside of Ulaanbaatar we had the inevitable flat tire. I got out to stretch my legs and peered into the trunk while Baatar was getting out the spare tire. I couldn’t believe what it looked like back there. Everything was covered with a half-inch of dust and sand which had come up from underneath the car while we were traveling. (page 140)     The tire was changed and I returned to the back seat of the car while Baatar put the flat tire and tools into the trunk. Then he closed the trunk lid. Can you figure out what happened next? Right! We were enveloped in a cloud of choking dust. There was dust in our eyes. Dust in our mouths. Dust in our noses. But, the trunk wasn’t closed tight enough so down it slammed again and we were given a second dose for good measure. So before we could start up again I grabbed our water bottle and gulped as much as I could and handed it to John for his pleasure. (You can’t drink bottled water while bumping over the countryside without getting it all over you.)  (page 140)     I saw two girls from my class in the hall and called them into the room and asked if I could take their pictures. I explained to them that I wouldn’t be teaching them anymore. They asked if I was returning to America and I told them I would have a different assignment. I assured them they’d still have English teachers and they asked if it would be Elders Benson and Torgerson. I told them that it would be two other young Americans (a new group comes from the MTC this week). I asked them to write their names on the board and then I’d take a picture with their names beside them. One of the girls wrote, “We are love Mrs. Hopkins.” She then asked, “Is that right?” I erased the “are” and took their pictures. Then they asked if they could have a picture with me so I suggested we go find John and have him take the picture. We found him with his card-playing students and then they asked if he’d take the picture outside. We went out on the steps where they gathered together a number of students from the class that were nearby. I’ll miss singing Old MacDonald with them. (page 142)    <<< back    next >>>