Great Walls, Vodka, and Galloping the Mongolian Plains

« Return to China

We picked up the group at the station, drove along the main strip to the hotel, thankfully devoid of multinational brands and stores usually found in nation’s capitals. The roads were cracked and potholed, but everyone felt a general relief to be out of China, and more so, to see the sky as it looks without a coughing shield of haze. One of my goals in the country was determine if locals eat the Mongolian BBQ as it is packaged at restaurants at home (the ones where you select your veggies, meats and sauces and get them cooked on a traditional pig-iron stove). The answer, surprisingly, is no. The Mongolian BBQ does have its roots in Mongolian history, but the most popular BBQ restaurant in the capital is part of a US chain, and the BBQ concept is not common. Instead, locals eat a whole bunch of other things not suitable for the western palate (horse intestines, boiled lamb head, fermented camel milk). That being said, vodka is cheap and consumed by the bottle. After 30 hours on a train, the group needed to stretch their legs and livers, so one bottle led to two, and two and two makes five, and here we are, twelve people completely out of their minds on too many beers and five bottles of strong Chingiss vodka. My initial observations of the group as being quiet and refrained do no justice to the following notes recorded from that evening:

1. Richard has just burnt a large hole in Kieran’s arm with a cigar. Nobody seems to mind much.
2. Kieran passes out at bar table.
3. Smuggled in bottle of vodka into some club, music is too loud, westerner with wig dancing offensively, Australian with mullet and tattoos mildly threatening. Looks like Chopper Reed.
4. Ed has got us kicked out of club by large bouncers, amidst raised voices and threats of violence.
5. Richard has lost his passport and money.
6. Nick has disappeared, girlfriend Gabi is walking in circles.
7. Taxi driver has girlfriend in passenger seat and is as drunk as we are.
8. Parking lot of hotel, Dimity has jumped on hood of taxi. Taxi driver has her camera, demands more money. Shoving ensues.
9. I’ve managed to get camera back and Ed and Dimity in the hotel. Taxi driver has removed shirt and wants to kill me.
10. Army and police arrive. Security guard puts crackling taser gun in my face.
11. Having bribed someone, somehow back in the hotel unhurt. Ed has passed out in another guest’s room.
12. With receptionist, retrieve Gabi (walking in circles in reception) and put her into bed. No sign of Nick. Someone is puking upstairs.
13. Dimity has lost key to room, this is bad, as it is my room too.
14. Richard passed out on floor.
15. Call Nomin, tell her to arrive early to arrange Richard’s passport. Receptionist grabs phone and talks like Legolas in Lord of the Rings. Nomin rushes over, concerned about Nick, calls police, goes out to look for him.
16. Nick shows up, everyone passes out, except Ed, who is trying to buy security guard’s uniform and burning Chinese RMB in reception. Sounds of puking echo through the corridors.
17. Morning. After arranging a police report and visiting the British embassy, Richard finds his passport and money in his room.
18. Nomin displays supernatural powers of patience and understanding (mixed with a dash of fear and a hint of pity).
19. Depart for the countryside with vicious hangovers. Bus smells like vodka.
20. All’s well that end’s well on the Vodkatrain.

After that night of infamy, of which the above merely scratches the surface, we needed some peace and quiet and fresh air. As if the Vodka Train planners knew this, our itinerary offered four days in the countryside, staying in a traditional nomadic gur tent, far away from anything. Describing scenery is always a challenge, so as I write this (21 minutes left of battery), I look out the door of the circular tent, fixed with wooden beams. The grass is green, from a distance, as smooth as a fairway. Rocky outcrops of marble look like nuts on a sundae, the forests like syrup. There is no sound save for my typing, the wind, and the occasional whinny of a passing horse. In three days, I have not seen nor heard a plane. Yesterday, I jumped on a horse I called Landbiscuit, and fulfilled my ambition of galloping on the Mongolian plains. It’s the first time I’ve ever got the nerve to actually gallop at full speed. With my hat hanging around my neck, I yee-hawed past some Japanese tourists who went mad with their cameras. I even managed a race, and as Landbiscuit galloped past a Mongolian kid (admittedly, he was about 7 years old), the thrill was exhilarating. Pure, goosebump-high travel magic.

With the party demon satiated a few nights ago, everyone is content to sleep, or walk in the surrounding hills, read, sleep some more. The peace of this valley has surprised us all. “I don’t know how Russia is going to top Mongolia,” says Ed, and I agree. We see a demonstration of traditional wrestling (Mongolians are nuts about wrestling, including sumo). We dress up in traditional kingly robes (Nomin as the queen), eat a full sheep traditionally cooked in a pot. We drink fermented horse’s milk (I’ll stick to vodka, it’s no fun to belch horse). We try our luck with archery, go bouldering, swim in a fresh, freezing river. A squirrel-like field mole runs across our floor shortly after crapping on my bed. I’m too relaxed to care. At night, the local staff fire up the wood stove in the center of our gur to warm any chills. It only gets dark at about 11pm, but when the stars come out in this big prairie-like sky, the Milky Way seems almost within grasp. We sit outside the tent, talking nonsense and stargazing. My ears have become accustomed to a silence I forgot existed.

How is it that the poorest countries (Bolivia, Albania, Laos) offer the friendliest people, the most interesting cultures, the cheapest prices, and the most stimulating travel? My battery is almost out, and I’m getting back on the horse for one last ride through the hills. It’s going to be a long time before I get another chance to gallop a Mongolian horse through this kind of scenery for only $5 an hour. Hopefully, it won’t be a long time before I find this kind of scenic stillness again. Tomorrow, the night train to Siberia.

Guru Gur Camp
Mongolia

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