Will you share a ger with me?

Have you ever invited yourself to someone’s party? What if that someone is a whole family you met only yesterday? What if the party is a 12-day trek in the Gobi Desert? I know all you Burning Man attendees are saying, “Of course, my rainbow faux fur boots and I would easily take that leap of faith.” For the Santillo Family, it was more of a “Might we possibly?” and “Would you be willing?” and “Is it terribly forward of us to ask if we sleep in the same small felt-covered hut with you and your three children?” sort of a moment. Luckily, the Farine family said yes!

Let me introduce you to these amazing people. Leonard, Aline, and their three children—Amael (12), Timothe (9), and Celiane (6)—left their home in Switzerland the same week we left ours in Virginia. While we were meandering across the U.S., they were biking their way across Europe–through snow, through rain, camping by the side of the road whenever necessary. Folks, this family is an inspiration! Thirty-seven hundred kilometers and not a single plane flight or plastic bottle of water. What is their reason? To create the family experience of their dreams!

Imagine our overwhelming sense of serendipity when we met them in the same hostel in Mongolia!

For two weeks, we did almost everything together. We played hide-and-seek in the capital city of Ulaanbaatar, and late-night “chicken” with the headlights on dusty roads headed out of town. We made meals together of pumpkin soup and cabbage pancakes over portable propane burners. We shared tea in the morning and watched sunsets turn into stars together at night.

With the help of patient Mongolian families we tried our hand at herding goats (with and without motorcycles), milking goats (without motorcycles), slicing goat cheese, and eating goat cheese curd (initially falsely identified as soap), and the delicious crusty-creamy layer that comes from allowing the skin of simmered goat milk to harden for eight hours—best enjoyed atop the other staple of our diet these days, sugar cookies.

Together, we barely survived a rock-paper-scissors sort of drinking game with our Mongolian friends (Chris and his stomach still groan when we mention “airag,” fermented mare’s milk), and we learned to function on a few gallons of water per day (including cooking and cleaning).

We caught grasshoppers and lizards to pass the time when our car needed service in the middle of nowhere, sympathized with lonesome camels outside a ’ ger’ motel,’’ laughed at scurrying pikas while hiking Tolyn Am canyon, and marveled at the sight of faraway eagles in flight.

We practiced English, French, Italian, and Mongolian, the latter being a fantastic collection of whispering, guttural, and percussive sounds I struggled to emulate.

Talking with one another while we moved from campsite to campsite is what I may remember most fondly, despite the pervasive dust, the constant clonking and banging about, and the sometimes offensive lyrics of the driver’s favorite songs (his English is limited, so I don’t think he knows they are offensive). Thanks to the amazingly generous spirit of our fearless navigators, we split into two cars, the kids in the Russian vehicle with Soyda (bless you, Soyda!) and the adults in the Korean ‘tank’ with Ogna.

While the children made fast friends in their van seats through games of chess and the lesser-known traditional Mongolian game of ankle bones (played with actual bones), the adults talked for hours on end; I could not get enough of hearing the life perspective of these amazing people. To the Farine family: thank you a thousand times for letting us be a part of your world. When I open myself to the magnitude of this gift, I come to tears.

The more time we spend traveling, the more I come to the same conclusion: sharing joy with other people is what gives this life purpose.

Please check out their blog here. And their Instagram. And Facebook.

Are you drawn like I am to people who are not afraid of living according to their values despite potential judgment?