Mongolian name-giving tradition: the family gathers and writes down their suggestion for the baby’s name on a piece of paper. Then you put the suggestions into a bowl of uncooked rice, from which the parents pick a piece of paper et voilà – your baby has a name. Although now I’m not sure how many people actually practice this – but it’s how I got my name!
My full name is a 19 letters long Tibetan Goddess’ name (even though I’m Mongolian…) which is impossible to pronounce. So I got the nickname Yanjaa – a name that very few people master to say. Be a dear, be unique, be among the elite – press play and say my name.
Old picture from Kenya
I’m happy like a fool.
Filip tells me it’s very nice over there… and hey it’s only four days until I’m there too. This is really a good life. From Saturday on – there has been a shower of compliments my way. Some of the girls from school gathered ’round me when Ann and I came late to Vodoo and told me some very personal thoughts about me. That I was a drömtjej – the dreamgirl – don’t have to study to get good grades, I eat whatever the fig I want and am getting a nicer booty by the week, don’t work-out, pick up languages in places where others would only pick up diseases, re-arrange my trips left and right and am going to spend 8 splendid days with the person I adore.
I’m careful not to take it too seriously, these heavy compliments – but it does make me appreciate every inch of me more. And I do feel like a dreamgirl.