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Mongolia

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Seeing as I can’t travel thanks to COVID, it is time to reminisce and travel in my head. And catch up my blog! So camel experience aside, what of Mongolia itself? The real focus of this tour for me was meant to be the Transsiberian Railway experience, and the four days in Mongolia seemed like a nice little add-on but not really the star of the show. When I read the travel brochure I figured that travelling over the Gobi desert would be kinda cool (it was) as would sleeping in a ger, the Mongolian equivalent of a yurt.

How surprised I was to discover that Mongolia was an absolutely incredible place and easily one of the highlights of the four month trip. What is it about Mongolia that makes it so amazing ?

Well first, you are automatically a millionaire. I carried around 200,000 tugrik, the local currency, in my pocket. I’ve never carried 200,000 of anything in my pocket in my life. It was the equivalent of NZ$100. Everything was ridiculously cheap. Dinner for an enormous platter of dumplings and other mixed delicacies was NZ$7. Everyone else had huge portions too. Beer $3.

Ulaan Baatar, the capital where we stayed, is like the Las Vegas of Asia – arising out of the desert is a reasonably modern city at high altitude sprinkled with traditional buildings, and Chingghis Square which is dedicated to Ghengis Khan. We visited another famous Genghis Khan statue and nearby, a man doing Mongolian script calligraphy. $10 later and I had a scroll of my name. We went shopping for a half day and it simply was not enough – beautiful handmade bags, cushions, homewares and ohhh the Gobi cashmere. Again, all at insanely cheap prices. This is definitely one destination for a girls’ trip.

Near Chingghis Square is an irish pub, the only one in Mongolia. Apparently anywhere in the world you go, you’ll always find an irish pub. One of my irish friends recounted the tale of going trekking in the Himalayas where he started to get altitude sickness. As he trekked along becoming increasingly unwell he told himself that he needed to find a first aid station fast. In the distance he saw a guiness sign with shamrock and thought he was hallucinating from the altitude. But no, it was in fact an irish pub halfway up the Himalayas. One guinness later, he felt much better and carried on his way.

But back to Ulaan Baatar. The centre is very colourful, in fact, so is most of Mongolia and the Mongolians think nothing of painting their buildings bright pink, or having roofs of bright blue, orange or yellow. Around 40% of the population live in Ulaan Baatar, the rest still living the nomadic lifestyle in their yurts. In fact, some have decided they want the best of both worlds and moved to the city, to a small patch of land…where they have erected their yurts.

We got treated to the typical touristy cultural show but it was actually really good – dancers, singers, traditional costumes, and Mongolian throat singing. Yes throat singing. It’s actually incredible to listen to, hypnotic . The Mongolians are also extremely friendly, and in Ulaan Baatar speak impeccable English, which really surprised me, given my experiences in Beijing. They also speak Russian. Along with the Russian influence comes Mongolian vodka. You are in for a treat with this.

Then we headed out into the countryside to experience two nights in a yurt. The first thing that you have to get used to is in fact the altitude. Mongolia sits at a height of on average 1580m above sea level and, out in the parks where you go hiking, it is obviously higher. Think spending 4 days two thirds of the way up Mount Ruapehu. It’s not high enough to get altitude sickness but it is high enough to be puffing up the hills after only 45 minutes and getting headaches.

Yurt life is roomy and magnificently unecological. In the centre of the yurt is a coal-based fire which gets stoked for you every two hours. You need it though, because in May it is still cold and the temperature drops below zero at night. Just a shame there is no other developed source of energy.

Still, it was huge amounts of fun, particularly as we came across another tour group filled largely with Australians, including one very drunk lad who managed to scrape the top of his head off on the ceiling of his yurt. Yurts aren’t designed for tall people. In fact, they’re not even designed for average sized people. Fortunately there was a nurse on hand in the tour group, and I could see the tour guides muttering something about insurance.

We were in a yurt camp with a yurt dining hall and of course yurt loos, which didn’t fare too badly even though they were basically longdrops. One in particular required a degree of dexterity to use as the hole was quite wide. In positioning yourself, you needed to semi hover and clutch the sides so as not to fall in. It was not something to be attempted after drinking Mongolian vodka. As well as vodka, traditional Mongolian food is beef/yak stew with potatoes. There are few greens as it is hard to grow crops here, so it is largely a meat-based diet.

After a shot of vodka it of course seemed like a good idea to finish the night off with some Yin Yurt Yoga. Our poor Russian tour guide had never done yoga so I eased him gently into it with a few cat/cows, child’s pose, and downward facing dogs. He appeared to get more anxious as the poses became increasingly bizarre. The kicker was Happy Baby at which point he shouted “I don’t know you well enough!” and promptly ran out of the yurt, to fits of laughter from us.

But the highlight and most magical part of Mongolia is its scenery. Miles and miles of mountains and steppe, together with all sorts of wildlife – yaks, large vultures, and two-humped camels, only 500 of their type left. Our first full day at the camp we spent hiking including to a nearby buddhist monastery with stunning views. The path was dotted with signs each with a buddhist message to reflect on. At the start of the path to the monastery was a spinning wheel. You spun it and whatever number it landed on, that was the number of the sign you were supposed to find and take the message for yourself. At the top you could look out over the plains to more mountains. Breathtaking. We finished the day off with a spot of Mongolian archery. May I say that I am not destined to be selected for the archery team at the Olympics.

Then there was the eagle. On our way back to Ulaan Baatar we passed by some market stalls, and I noticed a stand where an eagle was perched. You could pay to hold him, so I had a turn. I don’t have the words to do justice to this experience, which was almost spiritual. I put gloves on and held him by the rope that he was attached to and lifted him. He was very heavy, but this great bird turned and looked directly at me, as if he was looking straight into my soul. I couldn’t say anything, just met his gaze back. He lifted his wings and began to beat them, creating a hum that throbbed through me. He just seemed so calm and trusting, but so powerful. I can never forget it.

Thank you Mongolia, I will definitely be back.



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.

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