Camel’s Milk.

It’s funny what can end up on your bucket list. Being in Mongolia, I had naturally heard of the tradition of drinking fermented mare’s milk as the must-thing to do. So it was on the list of cultural experiences to try.

I communicated my want to our tour guide who deflated me in the one simple sentence of “But you are too early, the season is not until June.” Who knew fermented mare’s milk had a season? Seeing my distress, she helpfully pointed out that if I was after a Mongolian cultural experience, camel’s milk was also pretty popular. I would be in luck as it was often sold in supermarkets. We were leaving that day for Russia so I was very keen to find a supermarket before we left.

The next supermarket we came to, there it was. Camel’s milk. She helped me select a bottle. I inspected the date. “Hmm, is that the date it’s manufactured or the date of expiry?” I asked.

She paused and thought for a minute. “Date of manufacture.”

“You sure?” Pause.

“Yes.”

OK then well, that was ten days earlier and hey, it was still being sold so clearly it was ok. I handed over the money for my precious bucket list purchase. Sitting on the bus to the train station, I took a sip. Hmm. Not bad. Slightly sour. What did people see in this? I shared my bottle around for others to have a try. They basically spat it out. “Enjoy that cultural experience dahl” said one of the Aussies.

Never one to give up, I got through about 3/4 of the bottle before deciding I had experienced enough culturally and tossed the remainder in the bin. Bucket list. Place substitute tick.

Next stage of the journey was the ultimate bucket list item. The Trans-Siberian train journey. Normally 7 days straight from Vladivostok to Moscow we were picking up the train from Ulan Bator which would make it a five day journey. Of course we were hopping on and off the train along the way to spend some time soaking up local russian culture. I was so excited. The Trans-Siberian! We were off! This is it. The dream!

It was only 24 hours to the first stop in Russia. Interestingly, the russians have a quaint habit of closing their loos 15 minutes before each station and 15 minutes after each station. It’s to deter stowaways. There is a no-mans land between Mongolia and Russia, so at the Mongolian border, you are roused from your sleep, and made to leave your cabin while they search for stowaways. You then have to face them so they can see your eyes, state your name and hand over your passport which you then don’t see for another hour and a half. Once you get it back, it’s stamped with your exit stamp. I hoped that was all it was taken for. Half an hour later across no-man’s land, the whole process is repeated again when you hit the russian border.

This would all be fine, had I not come down with a killer headache and a strangely uneasy tummy. Couldn’t think what I had eaten. The food in Mongolia was pretty good, no one else was suffering. I hopped on each leg while trying to say my name clearly to the customs guards. Think I was sweating. Please for the love of God can we get on our way, I desperately need the loo. My stomach was making all sorts of gurgling noises and the dreaded sense of an accident looming was beginning to be felt.

Clearly, it was not the date of manufacture on the camel’s milk. I downed two panadol and took off to the loo. It was still locked. I stood outside hopping and counting trees outside in an effort to distract myself until finally the 15 minutes had passed and the train guard passed to unlock the loo. The relief was palpable. I believe the loo took the entire contents of my colon in that moment.

There were 8 more train station stops before our destination. This meant a total of four hours of the journey with locked loos. 8 hours attempting to sleep. That left a 12 hour window for the loo which I needed approximately every 45 minutes. Turns out my colon hadn’t been completely emptied. One of the tour group happened to be a doctor and she monitored me, keeping me hydrated and feeding me panadol. I had thought to bring some immodium-style sachets from NZ with me so I drank one of these every hour.

While everyone else enjoyed vodka shots I moaned in bed, cursing the rocking motion of the train. At last we arrived in Irkutsk and I ran for the first loo I could find. By this stage we’d come across so many terrible loos that we were running a competition to see which one was the worst. This loo won worst toilet of the entire trip. I did not care. Not one little bit.

Don’t do it. Don’t drink camel’s milk.