Chapter 1: There is Nothing on the Land Mongolian Proverb: Good fort un e may forebo de bad l u ck, which may, in turn, disguise good fortune. When does nothing become something? When does the middle of nowhere become somewhere? If ever the middle of nowhere had a physical location, it was Ulaanbaatar. ‘The snow is early this year,’ said Temulbaatar Bagabandi. As he said, a punctured tire forced their vehicle off the road. The driver and Temulbaatar raised their sheepskin collars and deftly attended to the situation as if it were a regular occurrence. Neither emitted a grunt, a groan, a sigh, or any sign of complaint. Jorja Himmermann remained in the car. A dead pigeon lay on the cement pathway in a pool of melting snow. It was flat on its back, and flakes of wispy snow landed on its scaly pink feet. Another dead pigeon tangled in a chicken-wire fence dangled with its entrails exposed. Jorja watched a short, ruddy-faced Mongol, who had a small cart of fur pel