Brrrrrrrr at the Gerrrrrrrrrrr

Just the drive out of the city (Ulaan Baatar) was an experience in itself. It is estimated that approximately two million people live in Mongolia and one million of these live in the capital. On Tuesday November 2nd I think all one million residents were in their cars! The traffic in the least visited city in the world is phenomenal, and drivers push past each other like French men queueing at a ski lift. They literally muscle each other out of the way, and some (including our taxi driver) drive up on the pavements to get past particularly bad stand-stills. When you get out of the city, the drivers have other obstructions to deal with in the form of potholes and broken up roads. We were hoping to get some sleep on the drive to the ger camp, but with your head knocking against the window or roof this became difficult.

Ghengis the Menace
Before we got to our Ger camp we made a stop at the Ghengis Khan monument. This is an amazing construction that looks completely out of place in the Mongolian outback; a huge metal statue of the warrior himself. It stands at 130 feet tall and contains a museum to the Mongolian warlord and the times of the Mongol empire (which covered huge sections and China and Asia). We had a walk around the museum and the took the lift up inside the statue to get a view from the middle of the statue. As we arrived at the balcony viewing point, our guide Naki gave us some basic information before pointing out that we were walking out of Ghengis Khan's "pennes". It took us all a while to realise we had just walked out of Ghengis Khan's penis!




The view from Ghengis Khan's "pennes"



Hands up all the girls who love a bad boy warlord!

The interesting thing about Ghengis Khan in Mongolia is that he is a completely revered and admired historical figure: every banknote shows his face, and there are many restaurants, hotels and bars named after the man, there is even a beer in his name. His empire may have been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people but he is still consided a true hero by the Mongolians.

Gerrrrrreat

When we arrived at our ger camp, all eight of us (three Brits, three Aussies, and two Frenchmen) were very excited. We had arrived in the real Mongolia! The ger is a traditional Mongolian home (it is called a yert in other countries) which resembles a circular tent. It is made from a wooden framework covered in felt. It originates from the nomadic lifestyles of the very first Mongols, the homes are easy to assemble and take down, and also to transport. You see gers dotted through the Mongolian countryside, you also see them in big camps around the capital city, and also dotted in between modern buildings in the city itself.



At our camp the scenery was amazing in it's scarcity! There was nothing but bare land as far as the eye could see, just barren hills and bright blue sky. Our ger camp was made up of about eight accommodation tents, a restaurant tent, and a few hundred feet away the toilet (long drops in three huts). Walking into our ger was like walking into Doctor Who's tardis. There were four beds around the edge of the circular tent, a small sink, a roaring fire in the stove in the centre and a table and chairs set up for tea.




Home from home - and yes they do look like IKEA chairs!

That evening the men in our group flexed their muscles and chopped some wood for the ger stoves. You could certainly tell they were all city boys at heart!



He saw, he conquered!


Chop chop Christian!

We had been warned about the food the mongolians eat (animal fat in mares milk being a delicacy), but that evening we had one of the best meals of our trip; mutton. It was delicious. We drank the ger dry and had the bright idea of ordering five more bottles of Mongolian vodka from the city the next day.

Although the outside temperature was about minus ten degrees, the inside of our ger tent was toasty and that evening I slept like a bug in a rug, or like a nomad in a hot tent (as Christian and I had now become).

High Ho Farty horse!

The next morning, Christian and I got into our chaps and saddles for a horse ride. Christian looked the part in his sheepskin coat and cowboy hat while I looked like I needed therapy in my bowl helmet. We were able to name our horses and very soon after I mounted my cute brown pony, it became clear what her name had to be - Farty! She liked to be ahead of the other horses, but I'm guessing the other horses would rather have been ahead of her since she farted almost continuously whilst I rode her.



Farty and Fiona


Looking like he was born in the saddle (until he sits in a saddle and the illusion is gone)

Nomads an island

Whilst at the ger we walked to visit a nomad herdsman. He was the same nomad who had taken us out on horses and his name was Bachalad. He lived alone in his ger with only his horses and herd for company. He was forty five years old but looked about sixty and he was a very generous host to us - perhaps a little too generous. As soon as we all squeezed into his little ger home and made ourselves comfortable on his beds, he served up some traditional Mongolian tea that looked as bad as it tasted. We all eyed up the suspicious liquid and each other before politely drinking as much as we could. It was made up of mares milk, salt, and herbs.
He then served up some mutton that had been steamed on the stove. In traditional Custom, the eldest of us started by cutting off a piece of meat with a knife before handing the knife clockwise around the group.
Bachalad leads a very simple life and his only means of entertainment in the tent was a radio. However he seemed happy with his lot.




We said goodbye to Bachalad and his traditions to return to our ger to embrace some western traditions - we played charades and got drunk.

After two nights at the ger camp it was time to leave. It was such a fantastic place to stay and we all agreed we could happily have stayed a lot longer. The appeal of the place was the fact that there was very little to do, other than a basic bow and arrow and some games with sheeps ankle bones, there is nothing to do but appreciate where you are. And so the blue skies, endless hills and fresh air become your entertainment.







Hungover but happy at our ger camp

We then nursed our throbbing heads on the horrific and bumpy journey back to the city. We were all staying in a plush hotel and Christian and I got a huge suite to stay in. We made immediate use of the space by washing all our undies in the sink and hanging them up around our luxury pad! We know how to live the high life. We the treated ourselves to a fancy dinner in a nice restaurant. You could tell I had been out of civilisation for too long because when the waiter used chopsticks to give me a hot towel at the beginning of the meal, I wanted to eat it! Christian had to tell me what it was.

So after a fantastic time in Mongolia, we had to say goodbye to the train traders, to the nomads, and to Ghengis Khan. It was time to visit the world superpower that is China.

Christian and Fiona

Location:Mongolia - middle of nowhere