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Published: August 2nd 2006
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Mongolian wilderness
The Gobi desert through the train window I was reading Frank Skinner's hilarious autobiography recently and one of the comments on the back stated "This book is so much better than you have any right to expect." Unreservedly, I would apply these sentiments to our time in Mongolia.
Mongolia ferfuxake. I'm from Glasgow. What would any Glaswegian in the right mind be doing in Mongolia? I think as a curious 10 year old I may have come across it on a globe and back then it seemed as far away as Pluto. Perhaps even further given the class project we were doing on the solar system at the time. But here I was, 15 years later, stepping off a train in Ulaan Bataar toon centre as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Our departure from Beijing had been fairly low key though accompanied with the usual tardiness and usual kerfuffle. The noodle-fest that was our 24-hour train journey passed off without much incident. Some people found it interesting to watch how the bogeys that attach the undercarriages of the trains to the tracks are transformed from the Chinese to the European setting. I didn't. Text messages informing us that England had been
knocked out of the World Cup on penalties again brought smiles to the corners of our mouths and induced a snigger or two but it was hardly unexpected. Mongolia, however, I had no expectations of, and that's what was feeding the butterfiles of excitement giddily swimming around in my tummy as our train transported us through the heart of the Gobi desert.
Many travellers stop there for a few nights, perhaps to engage in a bit of soul-searching amid the vast isolation. My soul wasn't really up for it, deciding to pass through with the rest of my body to the nation's capital. Given that I'd previously spent 6 months living and working in Baku, Azerbaijan, much of the city seemed familiar. The concoction of dilapidated buildings, heavy traffic and searing heat certainly brought back memories of my time in the ex-Soviet outpost on the shores of the Caspian Sea. Unlike the other locations where we had planned to stop on the Trans-Siberian route for various organised tours and homestays, we had a free reign in Ulaan Bataar so we did the logical thing and booked on to a tour straight away, signing-up for two nights staying with the
nomadic herdsmen in the Mongolian wilderness.
The night we spent in town prior to our departure for the countryside confirmed the following facts:
1) There are few better dining concepts than a Mongolian BBQ. You'll probably be familiar with the format if not the name. Basically, you pile your plate high with fresh, uncooked meat and vegetables and present it to one of the chefs at the furnace-hot grill, equipped with what appear to be a Samurai swords in each hand, the tools of their trade. As they do the business you choose your sauces and in less then two minutes you're feasting upon one of the tastiest dishes imaginable.
2) Ulaan Bataar is a brilliant place to go out on the lash. We didn't even get arrested.
3) Celtic Football Club are the most magnificent and global-reaching sporting organisation on our planet. Despite the fact that you can hardly get decent Scottish football coverage in Ullapool never mind Ulaan Bataar, there was a wee Mongolian guy sitting at the bar bedecked in the famous green and white hoops. Fair play son.
Which brings me to our trip to Terelj. Again we weren't exactly sure
Giddy up horsey
Mongolian horses surprisingly don't respond to Glaswegian toddler-speak of what we'd signed up for. In fact, it was almost all over before it had even started when we discovered that the bridge on the way there was broken and impassable. Luckily the local army had assembled a makeshift version a few hundred metres downstream and it was this rickety old contraption that was supposed to transport our several tonne mini-bus across the river. Hey, this was the same Mongolia that I knew nothing about so I convinced myself that this sort of thing probably happens all the time and sure enough we battered across without tragedy.
On arrival we were greeted by a beautiful landscape of rolling mountains and stretching green plains. Like the local herdsmen, we were accommodated in cosy white tents with the appearance of over-size wigwams called 'gers'. (Note the 'g' is hard thereby providing a fortunate dissociation with the evil hordes from Govan.) These abodes were scattered across the fields forming a quaint wee village and home to the family that would cook our meals for the trip. We spent most of the day in the company of Mogi, a roguish 8 year-old intent on proudly showing us all of his little hideouts
Bloody saddle
Yes this is a picture of my arse after a day galloping around on a saddle with all the comforts of a cheesegrater (regardless of how high we had to climb or tight we had to squeeze to get there). Amusingly, he was also in charge of Timmy the pet camel. I'll remind you that 8 year-olds are usually less than 4 feet tall and camels often more than 10. Lucky he had that Dennis the Menace catapult then.
One piece of unfortunate timing was that we were a week too early for the annual holiday festival of Nadam. By all accounts, this occassion offers Mongolian men the opportunity to demonstrate their proficiency in the ancient arts of horse-riding, archery and wrestling - the so-called 'manly sports' (although to look at their costumes you wouldn't reckon there was anything manly about them). However, at the ger camp there were plenty of horses around and part of the deal was that we would have two hours riding a day. You dancer. The closest I'd ever been to a horse until this stage was when I had a can of Tennents Lager confiscated by the mounted police on the way to Celtic Park so this was going to be a bit of an experience. And so it proved. None of your drugged-up donkeys getting
overtaken by the snails on Blackpool Beach - these were wild Mongolian stallions and best of all responded to none of the commands with which I attempted to tame it! The best analogy I could give would be that it felt like sitting atop a massive untied balloon that somebody had just let go. Only to sit on a balloon would be reasonably comfortable. My God, the saddle the had on this thing was more like an instrument of torture: who in the right mind designed it to have one upright metal holder just where your balls are and another at the tailbone of your arse? And could this horse gallop? I make no apologies for attaching the picture of my injuries principally because it's pretty funny. The lad who rode that horse after me said later that he felt he'd been buggered by a cheesegrater. I can't find a more apt description than that.
But that was only one of the trio of 'manly sports' ticked-off. When I turned-up as an observer of the Nadam traning the next day, little did I know I was gonna get a shot at all three. I couldn't believe my luck when
Bullseye
I tell ye the Sheriff of Nottingham was lucky I wasn't about when he was the top man one of the archers handed me his bow and five arrows and beckoned me towards the oché some fifty metres from what appeared to be a microscopic target. Of course, I made a complete arse of the first few skewed attempts but after a couple more I was whistling dixie. Maybe waiting behind for the Nadam festival wasn't such a bad idea after all.
And then there was the wrestling. When I left home to embark on 9 months of travelling back in November I couldn't have imagined that the thrills and spills would stretch to this. Not in my wildest dreams. But back in July, when you were maybe at work, having a coffee or watching the telly, I was wrestling a Mongolian. Not just a Mongolian I'll add; a Mongolian who had just beaten the shit out of a pack of other Mongolian wrestlers. The champ. And you know what? I beat him. Quite easily in fact. Sure, having never wrestled a bout in my life I struggled in the opening exchanges but I soon got to grips with him and had him pinned, tapping out for mercy.
Aye right.
He mauled me of course.
But the rest is true.
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Cranston
non-member comment
Gorgeous
Never thought Mongolia was that Beautiful, Nice butt shot btw too. --"Giggles"