Hold the Mutton, Please.

I refuse to even try to understand why, after having our passports checked by both the Russians and the Mongolians which takes three hours, we have to sit at the border in silence for seven more roasting hours before continuing on to Ulan Baatar. At least this time our cabin was not disconnected from the rest of the train and left in the middle of the tracks somewhere without a bathroom for four hours. Count your blessings.

Mongolia was far more exciting this time around. We had met a girl in Irkutsk whose family runs a guesthouse in Ulan Baatar (UB) so we had them pick us up at the train station, which far surpassed the taxi ride at the mercy of a haggered crone who tried to charge us $5 to go 3 kilometers two years ago. As we sat on the couch waiting to be checked in we heard some girls talking about the weirdness of their roommate who was walking around in special underwear...

"Is he from Sweden?" Jessica asked.
"How did you know that?"

Our next option for getting to Beijing by train was in four days so we opted for an overnight excursion to Terelj National Park outside of UB. It was a good idea to get out of the city because as soon as you do it actually becomes an interesting country! The small section of the park that we saw was mountainous and dotted with massive boulders of various shapes. We ate lunch in a ger and, after declining to ride the diabolical ponies who are known to seriously injure 90% of their riders, walked up a small hill and across a swinging rope and plank bridge to a buddhist temple.

Then we were off across the plains, bumping along dirt tracks and through landfills towards our lodging. I was in awe of the small collection of gers when I saw it. They had set up a farm with stables and pens for the sheep, goats and cows. As the weather was warming more and more goats were being born, filling the pens with mewing balls of adorably furry creatures. The newborns were nursed briefly and then brought inside the warmth of the ger to live their first few days in the kitchen. When we stepped through the low door they began to call to us from their makeshift pen in the corner. Our ger was actually two round rooms complete with a door between them. It takes 20 minutes to erect the structure, which if you see the elaborate framework would amaze you. They made vegetarian food for us, which was so surprisingly delicious. We watched the grandmother steam long snakes of dough in a large pot and then cut them into thin noodles which she fried with vegetables. And in the morning we had yogurt and something like clotted cream, both homemade with their fresh milk.


During the night snow fell and turned the entire world white. I ventured out as everyone else recovered from a night of cards and Mongolian vodka. In the goat pen the mother of the nomadic family beckoned me to watch the birth of a goat. As soon as the tiny white one was out and cleaned off he was learning to stand, which he did five minutes later.

I have heard a great deal from others who travelled through Mongolia and went deeper into the Gobi for week-long (or more)treks. They aren't all good stories and some of them are actually terrifying but I think it would have been nice to escape into that world for a while longer. Certainly the hospitality, kindness and fascination of the nomadic people is reason enough.

We were able to buy train tickets all the way to Beijing this time. In 2004 Kip and I spent a hellish night on a "luxury" night bus with bunk beds covered in blood and other fluids from Erlian (Chinese border) to Beijing. I vowed that I would spend $1000 to fly before I did that again, so for our budget and sanity's sake it was a good thing that the train wasn't full. We passed the day with a Mongolian mother and her blind 18 month old travelling to India for surgery. What a sweet and (mercifully) quiet baby! Before we entered the outskirts of Beijing the train made a brief stop at the Great Wall.


Along with William and Iona (our new Kiwi friends) and Irene (an Americanized Dutch girl) we hopped in a taxi at the train station and made our way into the city. After check in we had agreed to venture out for food and whatever else our bodies could handle. I suggested a vegetarian restaurant that specialized in fake peking duck. It was a hike, but our Lonely Planet (I know I should never trust them) highly recommended the place and we were all keen. An hour later we were dragging our exhausted bodies up to the door of the completely empty, partially renovated building where the restaurant used to be. We were crestfallen. But it all worked out as off of Wangfujing shopping street we found the most glorious restaurant with a picture menu and ordered enough for 20 people. Best Chinese food of my life!