I spent 30,000 yen, which would have disappeared on a dinner in Tokyo, to become the owner of 10 Mongolian sheep

A portion of my living expenses is now
breathing softly in a world of minus 40 degrees.

The other day, I received a message from my darling (husband), a nomad in Mongolia.

It has been a month since he returned home due to visa issues.
I am in the middle of the 'dizzying busyness' typical of the end of the fiscal year in Japan. Career change support, recruitment activities, following up with staff, coordinating, confirming, and replying.
I have been spending my days staring intently at a small computer screen.

The moment my husband started talking on the video call, I was surprised by his incredibly raspy voice.

'My throat hurts, my body hurts, and I think I have a fever...'

My husband, with his exhausted, raspy voice. It is clearly a cold. However, my husband always says, 'I have never caught a cold.'
Perhaps 'I have never admitted to having a cold' is more accurate. (Illness is all in the mind, right?)

In Japan, we call that statea cold,' I said.

My raspy-voiced husband looked dejected and was too exhausted to even argue.
I know that the day before, he was playing on a large, frozen-solid river in minus 40-degree weather. Of course he would get a fever. I told him to stay home and rest quietly, then hung up the phone.

A few days later.

When I called, my husband's voice had completely recovered. In fact, he was in high spirits. My cheerful husband said this:

'I bought some sheep!'

After a cold, comes sheep.

The development is sudden. Apparently, just after recovering from an illness, he went and bought some sheep.

Actually, buying sheep was something we had decided on a while ago. When we were in Japan, we talked about raising sheep in Mongolia and had set aside a budget for it.

Sheep are not only cute, but their wool can be spun into thread, they can become meat, and they can be sold for money. You could call them "living assets." This is a matter of course for nomads.

The initial budget for 10 sheep was about 50,000 yen.
It seems he was able to purchase 10 of them for 30,000 yen.
"Isn't that amazing?" my husband said, looking proud, still recovering from his illness.

Sheep, 40% off.

Right now it is too cold, a time when sheep get weak. Furthermore, around the New Year, they are often put up for sale, so the price drops. I am surprised that there is a market price for sheep, just like there are times when prices go up and times when they go down.

Every day, information flows through X saying, "This stock is supposed to be good!" But around that time, my 30,000 yen had turned into 10 fluffy creatures in Mongolia. Watching the numbers on a screen is important, too. But when I think about lives growing sturdily on land that is minus 40 degrees, a different kind of excitement wells up inside me.

I want to see the cute sheep soon. Feeling warm and fuzzy, I asked, "Did you take pictures of the sheep?" and as expected, my husband said, "I forgot."

Instead, what arrived were photos of a "yak" they had started keeping at his parents' home, and its freshly squeezed milk. Pure white milk and a large, equally fluffy yak.
They are very cute, but what I want to see is "my sheep."

That said, we can't take care of them ourselves yet, so for the time being, his parents and the neighboring nomads have kindly agreed to look after them for us. To have them do the "raising (management)" for us.raising (management)Nomadic people really do help each other out as a matter of course.

And so, while communicating with my husband, I suddenly thought.

30,000 yen—I think I spent it on something quite interesting.

In Tokyo, that's an amount that disappears on a nice dinner, a massage, or some clothes. That's not bad either, and I like spending money that way too.

But lately, I've been thinking I'd like to use it for experiences that make my life a little more interesting. It's not about the size of the amount, but the perspective of what kind of 'experience' that money can transform into.

Right now, in Mongolia, my 30,000 yen has become 10 living creatures, breathing softly on the snow.

It's somehow fascinating that such a world exists so far away. You can use 30,000 yen for satisfaction that vanishes, or you can turn it into life that starts to walk. The value of the money itself doesn't change. What changes is only the choice of what to use it for.

There is a part of my life taking a different form in a place far away. Just thinking about that makes me feel like my everyday life might become a little bit happier.

This summer, I will definitely go to the grasslands to meet my 'my sheep' who are fluffy and soft. For that reason, I'll keep working in Tokyo today.

While living with my nomadic darling, I am loosely exploring the question, 'How can people live happily?'

An essay on the beginning of why I went to Mongolia.

What happened after I bought the sheep.

About my life now with my Mongolian husband, who was the reason I started raising sheep.