Camels on the New Asphalt

The road west of Khovd is so new the paint smells fresh, and down the middle of it came the oldest traffic in Asia: a herd of Bactrian camels, two humps each, moving at camel pace, which is the pace of animals that have never once been late for anything that mattered.

I stopped the Niva and yielded, obviously. They flowed around the car with mild interest, tall as the roof rack, smelling of wool and superiority.

Somewhere an engineer is proud of this asphalt, and rightly. But watching the caravan take possession of it, I understood the true situation: the road is a guest here. The camels are the infrastructure.