“One can always spot a foreigner by the dirt on their shoes.”

I try. I try so hard to keep clean. To brush off every speck of dusty, fine, Ulaanbaatar dirt.

It’s a losing battle. By the time I reach my destination, all my efforts are for naught.

No good Mongolian would be caught dead in these shoes.

But, try as hard as I might, I will never be a good Mongolian.

I will always struggle to keep these shoes clean.

I will misread the bus signs, and end up on the edge of town

Hopelessly lost.

I will always be the odd one on the bus.

Which one of these is not like the other? The foreigner, who, unable to maintain balance just crashed into you as the bus made a sudden stop.

I will wait hesitantly to cross the street—hoping for someone more aggressive than I to lead the way.

I will often forget that coffee-to-go is a Western concept, and I will forget to sit down and enjoy rest from the busyness of life.

I will make laughable efforts at pronouncing your name correctly, but I won't give up trying to learn your name.

And, I will pray that you’ll forgive my mistakes...all of them.