The first breath of air into our lungs as we alighted from the train in Ulaan Baatar informed us of just how cold the temperature was. We knew the day's forecast was for a high of minus 19 Celsius and a low of minus 33, so we had prepared by rugging up under several layers, but you still have to breathe. That first inhalation left us speechless and gasping. But the sky was blue and there was no wind, so we wrapped our heads in our scarves and counted our blessings.

We spent our first afternoon in U.B. (as the locals and the lazy call it) at the National History Museum which was a great way to introduce us to the history and culture of Mongolia. By the time we emerged from the museum it was already dark and the air once again stung our lungs, this time not only with the cold, but also with the smell of smoke thick around us. Nearby ger neighborhoods burn coal fires for warmth and cooking and this lies heavy in the air, especially at night. Tucking our heads lower into our scarves, we walked around Sukhbaatar Square, named after the hero of the 1921 revolution and enjoyed the festive feel with its central Christmas tree all lit up.

Dinner was at a restaurant specialising in Mongolian barbecue. After choosing a bowl of various vegetables and meats, spices and sauces, a master of the art of tossing food around threw our selection onto a hot plate and performed an acrobatic act of tossing and turning the food with a long sword-like tool in each hand and serving it with flair and a final fling onto our plates. As his silhouette against the flames leaping high from the BBQ plate moved with agile speed, he reminded me of Edward Scissor Hands at work. Showy, but impressive. Better still, the food was delicious. The local Ghengis beer was good and the Mongolian custom of tossing a shot of vodka down to complete the meal was introduced to us.

The weather gods continued to smile upon us the next day as we spent a glorious morning away from the city at a ger settlement where we rode yaks and camels and horses through snowy fields under vast blue skies. This was a tourist camp, but being winter, we were the only visitors, so it had rather a nice feeling of isolation and authenticity about it. On arrival we were poured generous cups of warm mulled wine from thermos flasks to sip as we crunched through the snow exploring the area. The camp was set at the base of a mountain with open land rolling out to more hills the other side. Several gers were surrounded by animals and the nomads were dressed in their fine colourful clothes. After all our activities we were treated to a typical Mongolian meal inside a ger which was warm and toasty with its central fire over which the meal was cooked. We had milk tea to begin, followed by Mongolian dumplings and soup, and of course the vodka shot to complete the meal. This really was a wonderful experience to come here. Even using the open air drop squat toilet with log walls only as high as your waist was not an experience to be missed.

Before catching the 9pm train we dined like kings on Mongolian hotpot, while being entertained by talented musicians and singers and contortionists. This hotpot, a variation of the Chinese steamboat, was a hundred times more enjoyable than our steamboat meal in Beijing. We each had our own boiling pot and selected a variety of meats and veggies to throw in with seasonings of our choice, all washed down with red wine and ... you guessed it ... VODKA!