05/27/2026
I don’t think I realized until today just how heartbreaking it can feel to build something with so much love… only to watch it suddenly stop right before it comes to life.
For almost a year, our Khusvegi English & Nomadic Culture Camp - Altai Uul team and community poured their hearts into this project - our pilot camp in our second village, Altai. The families, children, teachers, coordinators, and local community in Altai worked so hard preparing for this summer. We were so close to finally bringing it to life. Every piece was slowly falling into place.
And then a curveball bigger than I could have imagined hit us.
An outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease has now led to quarantine restrictions across Altai, Ulgii, and the Bayan-Ulgii region. Schools are closing. Movement is restricted. Livestock — the center of livelihood for many families — are at risk. The crisis unfolding for local families is very real and very serious. Just less than a month from the start of our camp, the community had to make the hard decision to postpone it. Khusvegi Camp Altai will not happen this year.
As for me, I now sit in Ulaanbaatar after making the difficult decision to cancel my flight to Ulgii. In moments like this, I don’t want to become another burden for local families to host, help, or worry about as a foreigner while they navigate a crisis much bigger than tourism or travel plans.
For the first time in a very long while, I suddenly have no plans. The next 2–3 months feel completely open and uncertain. This feeling is the same as the one I had in 2020 when Covid forced the borders to shut down, leaving me stranded as a lone foreigner in a hotel room in Ulgii.
But something happened last night that reminded me why Mongolia has always had such a special place in my heart.
After a grueling 3-hour bus ride from the airport stuck in traffic, I randomly asked a local man for help getting to my accommodation because there were no taxis available. He didn’t speak English, so we communicated entirely through Google Translate. I later learned he had been a lawyer for 13 years. Instead of simply pointing me in the right direction, he offered to drive me to my hostel himself — simply out of kindness and happiness to help a stranger.
And that is the Mongolia I know.
Not just the mountains, eagle hunters, or endless landscapes. But the people. The kindness. The way people make sure you get safely to your destination because they genuinely care about those who have the privilege of experiencing their home.
It brought me back to 2020, when the pandemic left me stranded in Mongolia for 294 days. I remember the fear, uncertainty, and confusion of that moment. But somehow, that experience transformed into one of the most meaningful chapters of my life. In fact, Khusvegi Camp itself was born because of the relationships and experiences created during that unexpected time.
So now, sitting here during another crisis — this time affecting animals, herders, and communities — I find myself remembering that lesson again.
The universe has a way of changing our plans. Sometimes painfully. Sometimes unexpectedly. But it also has the ability to open doors to experiences far greater than anything we originally imagined.
So maybe my job right now is the same as it was in 2020:
to stay open.
To trust the unexpected.
To ask for help.
To say yes to human connection.
To believe that even disappointment can become the beginning of something beautiful.
It happened in 2020.
And maybe, just maybe, it can happen again.
Actually, it's now happening. And I'm ready for it.
