Greetings from Ulan Bator. We have been away from internets (and indeed civiliusation) for a while, and hence the delay...

Irkutsk

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Last you heard, we were in Irkutsk and getting an overnight train to Ulan Ude (still Russia, but very definitely in Asia now). After updating this site, we made our way back to the hotel and had a quick look at the "London Pub" which was adjacent. After entering through the wild west style swing doors, the first thing you could see was the tartan of the staff skirts. The drinks on draft were Tennants (dodgy scottish lager), Newcastle Brown Ale and some french and Belgian beers. So, overall, a most authentic taste of London. Beforehand we had wandered into a sports stadium in Irkutsk and pleasantly meandered away half an hour watching the budding Russian athletes of the future being put through their paces.

Ulan Ude

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We spent 2 days in Ulan Ude with a 'host' family to give us an authentic insight into life there. The family consisted of Mum, baby Dasha, and Gran Natasha. Grandad popped in and out but seemed a bit baffled by our presence. A-M proffered her hand in welcome at one point only to be met with a blank silence. The rest of the family must have given him some words of comfort as about 15 seconds later he smiled and said hello in Russian (we think). Ulan Ude is pretty industrial. Heading out on a trip on our first day, we mused on the smog filled valley that seemed to last for miles. You could get carried away thinking how grim places like this are, but then again if Russians happened to visit Middlesbrough or Bedminster I doubt that they woudl be phoning home to explain their wonder at the beauty of the place. Anyway, we eventually ended up in the sticks. We visited a monastry (the first - I think - of many) and went to visit a traditional wood home and were treated to some traditional food (eg dumplings, green tea with milk, ridiculously strong booze. We then tried on some traditional costumes and fancied ourselves to look quite grand. Then we tried our hand at archery with a traditional bow and arrow (not quite so grand) and set about building a traditional 'ger' tent (which uses the tension of poles to hold up the roof, rather than relying on ropes). We were also taught how to play a bizarre kind of Subbuteo which involved the hock joints of sheep. It woudl take too long to explain but it was a big hit later on at the tourist camp. Back with the family that evening, they were keen to demonstrate to us the technological advances that had brought cable to their home. We felt it only polite to watch Portsmouth v Bolton given it seemed the best way to reward their welcome.... The next day we went to visit another monastry (a much bigger one). With lots of Buddhas. And prayer wheels. We were starting to be 'over' monastries at this point (although this one did at least have some deer in a pen to add a slightly surreal air to it). Back in Ulan Ude for the rest of the afternoon, A-M enginerred some splendid exploration via interrogation of an extremely undetailed map. We ended up by the riverside watching two rivers meander together, when we were approached by two lads in unifrom clutching large bottles of lager. Paul and Elvik worked in "security" (we thought it impolite to probe further) and they explained how the local ethnic group (Buryats) have a large presence in Melbourne, apparrently. We spent quite some time chatting and getting bitten by a swarm of midge like crteatures (hopefuly P&E didn't think our arm waving too rude). By the end of our chat we said goodbye in Buryat ('henda') and they were either deeply drunk or deeply moved as there was much bowing and hand shaking before they tore off in their souped up Lada. We stocked up at the supermarket for our next train, had a can of CNBNPCKPR KOPOH next to the tank in our local park, then headed home for our farewell dinner with the family.

On train to Ulan Bator

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Let us say no more of the journey than the fact that Immodium coudl have been used (but wasn't) and some 'extreme nausea' was experienced.

Ulan Bator

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Arrived with some of the party dehydrated and still expereincing mild symptoms. Therefore our report on our first walk round the city is sketchy. However we were pleasantly pleased by the approach that Mongolians take to many things. Firstly they seemed much more chirpy than the Russians (eg they smile). They seem to believe in customer care. And their music is - at times - much better. An example. The Mongolian Tax Office were making their quarterly presentation in the main square, explaining how they were using taxes and what on. A series of stalls expolained this. An admirtable and open approach to democracy! Even more impressive was the fact that the Tax Office had brought their own festival sized speakers and were banging out some good quality progressive trance. A lesson here for UK HMRC! Later on, we were outside the 'State Department Store'. Simnilalry sized speakers were now blasting out uplifting hard trance which had passsers by tapping their feet (well, I suppose they stopped to gawp at the adverts which were accompanying the music on a big TV). Mongolian roads and drivers are more terrible than Russia! From now on, we are not going to slate any country until we have experienced the next one on our list. Stopping to let pedestrains cross is definitely optional in Ulan Bator.

Stay with Nomad Family =======================

After 1 night in UB, we headed off for 2 nights in deep Mongolia staying with a traditional nomad family. We went West out of UB on the Mongolian equivalent of the M4 motorway. Within about 70 miles the road had pretty much crumbled away, and driving 'off road' next to it was considered to be the better option. After bumping around for an hour we were a bit baffled to then find the road started perfectlly normally again. Apparently we had entered another province and this one spent money on its roads! We passed loads and loads of cars / trucks which had broken down in attempting to navigate the rough road / off-road. Our first night with the nomads involved drinking fermented goats milk with them (or pretending to....), drinking goat vodka (or pretnding to...) and presenting the family with gifts. The 2 aussies we are travelling with presented 'our dad' (the patriarch figure of the nomad group, a gruff and lovable figure sized like Homer Simpson) with a bottlle of the horriffically strong drink we had in Ulan Ude. He took a mega slog out of it and almost collapsed. Eyes rolled, shirts were undone. As time passed he sunk into the depths of his homely sofa. Alas, he sunk there a little too quickly at one point and broke the arm of it off. For the next half hour he kept bashing down at it, trying to fix his nomad sofa without success. Still, he joined in the singing lustily from time to time (although only seemed to be able to rememeber the chorus and not the verses). The visitors were encouraged to sing some songs back. Our singing was patchy by comparison, although Steve from Huddersfield did proffer up a song which ended with the refrain 'we hate Chelsea, we hate Chelsea'. Dave was the only other person who seemed to know any of the words other than him, so felt obliged to join in.

The next day we went off to see yet more temples, with an afternoon free for climbing hill ranges and admiring the view of sand dunes heading off for about 50 miles into the distance. Whilst most of Mongolia is technically desert, there isn't actually much sand around. There are very few trees either - it's mostly low lying scrub. On out morning visit to the temples it was a bit damp and misty as we went over some hills and it seemed more like Dartmoor than anywhere else.

Did you know that Camels (we saw some of these) can abandon their young? The Mongolians have a kind of Mongol guitar thing which in the hands of an expert can be made to play a song which makes the wayward parent cry. They then take back the infant which they had previously rejected. It's true! (according to a reliable Mongolian  source).

After the nomad camp, we headed off to a 'tourist camp'. We were still staying in Gers / Yurts, but this time we had access to showers, and our accomodation had electricity. Slightly bizarre in the desert.

In the evening, a game of sheep-bone-Subbuteo developed, although Dave decided to pitch in to a game of no limit 5 card Texas hold 'em instead. This was not a spectacular success, though the refrain 'bad cards, played badly' was offered as an excuse for the 3rd place position (out of 4 players). The food at the camp was OK but dumplings were meeting with a slightly cold reception after being served for what was literally the 5th day running. At our end of the table, there were some mutterings about this, when suddenly there was a brief power cut. 'Quick, get rid of yer dumplins!' came the refrain from Steve the Leeds fan at the other end of the table. I think you probably had to be there to appreciate the gag (and to have had dumplings for so long) but laughign fits went on for many minutes.

We went on a 6 hour horse riding trek out into the 'steppe' (plain) at the tourist camp. Apart from some slightly sore bottoms, this was a great success, although A-Ms horse proved truculent when it came to high speeds, and much energy was employed in trying to find a turbo button for said steed. But the views were fantastic, and we really did feel a million miles away from anything. (At these points, someone's horse - there were 6 of us - would usually let a series of tremendous guffs go and the romantic musing was thus washed away).

After the camp it was back to Ulan Bator for one final night before our onward trip. We went to the Mongolian black market to hunt for some bargains, but limited time meant that realtively little haggling was done. We had a little more joy at the 'State Department Store' later in the afternoon, and then headed off for a most excellent Mongolian BBQ in the evening. Again we had teamed up with 8 or so of the other people who we had met on the trip and much merriment ensued. 'Mongol' and 'Chinggis Khan' lagers were met with a mixed reception (the former too tasteless even for Dave - surely a world record - whilst 'Chinggis Khan' was given the slightly overused verdict of 'king of beers'. A great night out.