Ulaanbaatar, You Better, You Bet

Hello, hello and apologies to our army of readers (last count - four parents in total) for not writing anything for ages, and being at least one country behind. Still, them's the breaks...

Having unexpectedly fallen in love with the land mass of madness that is Russia, and already in a state of excited panic about China, we'd both sort of forgotten about Mongolia and our five day stay there on the penultimate stop of our Trans Mongolian odyssey. So when we arrived in the capital Ulaanbaatar with our two new travelling pals (Swedish) Anna and (Dutch) David at 7.30am on October 28th, we were not quite sure what to expect. Truth be told, we felt lucky to be there at all, after a four-hour border crossing leaving Russia, where our passports were taken away for a three hour inspection, and the validity of mine questioned by a twitching border guard with a gun and a whip. Still, arrive we did, and we were soon being driven - along with a fellow Brit couple - through the city streets by Zaya, owner of the erstwhile hostel that was to be our home for the next five days.

In a nutshell, Ulaanbaatar is utterly and indescribably mad, and not really in a good way. Still a relatively small city in size, it houses about half of the entire Mongolian population (unofficially) of about 1.3 million people. Simple things - like crossing the road - are a very real hazard, as pedestrians have no rights whatsoever. Traffic Wardens shout and wave flags at those daft enough to walk, while even the green man has an evil glint in his eye. Pick pocketing and theft is also rife, as are the gangs of street kids who work in packs, attaching themselves to passing foreigners with varying degrees of menace, violence and effectiveness. The one that got us in a busy street in broad daylight nearly throttled Lou with her own scarf, and helped me decide that I really didn't like the place much at all.

There are, however, a few things to recommend it. The Museum to the Victims of Persecution, opened by the daughter of this magnificent guy, is a chilling, moving and fitting testament to the horrors perpetrated by a Communist regime every bit as vile as that of Uncle Joe's.

The national museum is a hidden gem, and like the Parliament building is a fittingly upbeat reminder of the new-found democracy that the Mongolian people are rightly proud of.

But the underlying sense of danger, coupled with a dearth of things to really see or do, makes Ulaanbataar a bit... erm... shit.

The one thing that makes a visit to the capital worth it, however, is the wondrous beauty of the rest of the country that surrounds it. During our overnight stay with a nomadic family in the huge, mountainous countryside, I ran out of superlatives for the beauty of the place within an hour of arriving.

We spent two days and a night living in the most awe-inspiring, beautiful place I have ever been in my life, with some of the kindest people. The Yert we stayed in was warm (when the fire was going) and brightly coloured, and when we weren't walking in snowy mountains or horse riding, sans helmets and training, along rivers and ridges, we just sat, ate mutton stew and excitedly talked of things we had seen that day. Things like camels, silver tress, packs of horses, other-worldly rock formations, paths and raveens that led everywhere and nowhere.... I also made friends with a dog called Fang, which was pretty damn cool. It was just wonderful. And even worth visiting Ulaanbataar for.

Stay warm,

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)