reunion

Meeting Urnaa and Gunje again was lovely. They giggled and joked as much as they did on the train from Moscow. Urnaa worked out that we’d better do with an interpreter, so they brought their niece, Arghun, with them. She is a seventeen-year-old student of tourism and translation. She has straight long hair, and a pair of almond-like eyes. Arghun was dressed up in a suit, like she was going to a job interview when she came to meet me. Politely, she introduced herself and her brother who is also a college student (equivalent of A-levels) in Ulaanbaatar.

‘I left Mongolia for Hungary seven years ago…My niece was only a child then,’ Urnaa told me, holding Arghun’s hands. ‘Now she’s seventeen! Look at her – she’s turned into a beautiful girl!’

‘Big Mama’s back!’ Arghun said, caressing Urnaa’s hair. Urnaa responded by touching her face and kissing her on her lips. They were not in the slightest embarrassed about displaying their emotions, in a physical way, in public – and certainly not in front of me.

Gunje watched them but felt a little left out. She pouted a little, and then joined in – she kissed her niece warmly on her cheeks and lips. Three of them cuddled up together.

I’ve never seen this kind of expression of affection in a Chinese or Taiwanese family. Saying “I love you” to each other in public would be a big thing for many families I know in China and Taiwan. I do envy Urnna and Gunje.

‘Let’s take a walk to the State Department Store!’ Urnaa suggested. We strolled along, arm in arm, through the little alleyways that Arghun calls short cuts. Urnaa started humming a folk song. She kept asking me: ‘Are you happy?’