For the time being anyway – off to the Gobi Desert tomorrow, back July 9th.

Mongolia AMAZING and I’ve only been here an afternoon. Huge, open, we drove a couple of hours across the amazing landscape to see the only wild horses in the world, the Przewalski. And an eagle and a black kite and enormous buzzards. It rained!!!!!

I’ve met up with the group for this Mongolian leg of my jorney, and my friend from home is here – its lovely to see her, this is the sociable bit of my trip!

See you soon!

Sorry crap pic but those really are the only truly wild horses in the world living in their natural habitat

If you ever decide to do the trans Siberian train then make sure you get on a Russian train and not a Chinese one. If you are going down through Mongolia or direct to Beijing you won’t have any choice but stay on that Russian train as long as you possibly can.

So, writing this on a CHINESE train which is certainly different, its a dull khaki colour, the carriage attendent is male, looks too young to be out of school and obviously doesn’t know what a hoover is. My 1st class double cabin is all covered in deep red plush material and even a white antimacassar with lacy bits. And its FILTHY! And the loos are what you’ll be expecting after reading this far. As its only one night I’m just keeping my rucksack firmly shut and slumming it in my clothes til I get to the hotel tomorrow morning. There’s an American family with 2 teenagers who’ve been on this since Moscow. Dad did the booking and is suffering dire retribution! Thank goodness for wet wipes…….And, the one lovely thing, pristine thick white cotton sheets.

We’ve been sitting at the Mongolian border for a couple of hours with various officials doing what they do – the Mongolian border person – a woman – saluted me smartly which rather took me back. How on earth to respond????? Incredibly one of the train people walked down the corridor opening panels into the roof, presumably so they could check there was no stash of drugs up there. Though how they would check is a mystery there’s no stepladders in evidence!

Another train is pulled up alongside and I gaze longingly through the window to see at least 10 people bunked up together in a 2nd class RUSSIAN compartment all helping themselves to a big dish of food, passing round bottles of vodka and generally having a party……..

There’s 119 of you looking at this blog!! (yes I’ve found the “stats” button) – goodness I didn’t send the link to that many of you! Welcome, its lovely to have you along!

Off again later today, just one night on the train this time.

People here, out of the city, live in little wooden houses. In the city they love to hang out in the square in the evening, skateboarding, eating ice creams, enjoying the fountain, kids can hire those little car things to zoom around in and people dance……

Look what’s up in the square – it’s announcing a celebration for his birthday next week

Buriatia is Buddhist – well, there’s a lot of it about and there are two wonderful temples here, one high on a hill overlooking the city, one a few miles away across the completely flat steppe.

Its just like being back in Dharamshala! Absolutely lovely and that wonderful feeling of just peace, tranquility and all is and will be well. The artwork is less intricate than the temples I am used to and the faces depicted are squarer and sort of Mongolian but its Tibetan Buddhism OK and lovely to be among red robed monks.

The one out of town was built in 1945 because the communist regime had destroyed all the Buddhist stuff and they wanted to replace it – there are lots of temples on the site, all for the various sects and lineages, all beautiful, monks chanting, a kora to walk round, glorious sunshine.

One held, instead of the usual effigy of the Buddha or whoever, the body of a lama who died in 1927 but has not decomposed – he is said to be in a state of deep meditation. He sits, a little slumped, with his glasses on, for us to see and pay our respects and wonder.

There was an art gallery on site, here’s a painting, its just called “happines”.

Ulan-Ude is in Buryatia, a place with historical connections to Tibet and I am surrounded by faces that look for all the world like Tibetans so feel very at home here. Mind you they are Russian – don’t be fooled into smiling at them, here we do the business, none of this palsy walsy interaction with strangers………..

Hopped on to a bus yesterday. You pay the driver when you get off, and its a minibus, there’s loads of them everywhere, a very efficient transport system. Unsure of the fare I held out a pile of small change in my hand with it all nicely lined up so he could easily choose which he wanted. He indicated I should give it all to him which I did, then made a decicive gesture which clearly said OK that will do now get off my bus. I did, and set off thinking well it was less than a pound so no worries if I was overcharged. There was this hooting behind me and something made me turn round to see my fellow passengers gesturing for me to come back. The driver handed me a load of change. Everybody absolutely po faced. I thought it was hilarious and found myself grinning inanely at a bus load of completely po faced people.

There’s a modern and reportedly absolutely splendid opera/ballet theatre here and wandering past in the early evening I found the doors open so ventured inside hoping for a glimpse. A posse of severe looking women barred my way at the inner door. Very frustrating, it all looked wonderful inside. “Do you have any information in English?” I asked politely. “Interdit!”…..”Could I just have a quick look?” A younger woman indicated a poster – tonight the last of a 3 night run of something. “Tomorrow?” “Nyet” End of story? No! She said “Come”. I came. She took me into the back of the auditorium. Something amazing on the stage. She indicated I couldn’t stay there and said would I like to go up in the gods. Er – yes………..She said “Come”. Then “Wait”. I came. I waited. And was shown a stewards chair at the side of the stalls 6 rows from the front. “Sit”. I sat.

A joyful celebration of Buriat culture – dancing, singing, music – the first half traditional, the second modern. Glorious costumes, colourful, spectacular, fabulously choreographed, amazingly lit mostly from behind, the dancers bursting with vitality and exuberance. The theatre packed, people dressed up, happy, cheering, clapping. The auditorium resplendant with marble, chandilers, frescoed ceiling. I was chatted to at the interval (they aren’t unfriendly or unhelpful, quite the opposite, just po faced). It ended with the entire theatre raising the roof singing. I was in tears more than once. Wow!

It really is beter if things go wrong at the beginning of a trip. Then they can only get better. And the euphoria of overcoming the various challenges and getting things on track turns it round and reminds you that travelling is OK. Really.

When you’ve had an ecstatic first week or so and then everything falls flat its a Bit Much and one is tempted to get into the whole “well I always knew it couldn’t REALLY be that good…..” thing.

So there I was, down in the dumps about stuff from my real life, not even enjoying wallowing in misery, A whole week’s catchup of the Archers certainly failed to do the trick (WHY would I think it would????). “Sleep” music on Spotify faied to do the trick. The effects of my glorious wallow in the bath wore off. I felt bombarded with negative stuff. Disgruntled. Demotivated. Couldn’t sleep.

Writing this has reminded me of a different sort of downer I got in Katmandu about 35 years ago, I wrote a poem in my diary, I can still remember it:

In Katmandu I got the blues
This doom and gloom was mine to choose
The time and space the luxury
Of wallowing in misery

And there you have it. When you travel things happen and you have time to just be, whatever being is. So buggar all this being online and keeping up with my other life!!!! Just being sounds good to me!

I’m off the train! Every now and then I do a little sort of lurch. Is this the same as sailors get when they set foot on dry land after being at sea?

Said goodbye to my various train companions, with warm wishes to visit Switzerland (will they come and visit our Welsh mountains? I hope so) and from my Russian cabin companion for the last 2 days a blow up   Russian FIFA balloon! How cool is that! And very thoughtful as it weighs nothing.

My hotel here in Ulan Ude – which I chose for it’s rave reviews – may be international and impersonal but it’s 2 minutes from the main square,  they speak English and do laundry, do delicious food and oh bliss – a bath ! With a plug that works! Oh joy ! Did I mention it’s as cheap as a dorm bed in London ?

That’s Lenin by the way.

That’s it for a couple of days now

Have I said that Siberia is stunningly beautiful? Three days of trees. Leaves shining in the sun, mainly what look very like silver birch for the first day or so, then with scotts pines creeping in and now more prevalent. Its just glorious. What a landscape and it just goes on and on – yes there are occasional big cities, some small towns, some scattered smallholdings, the odd road but mostly just unadulterated, glorious, forest. Around the towns there is evidence of some cultivation of the areas of grassland in the clearings – huge areas, all unfenced, presumably cut for hay or silage. They must have cattle somewhere, they eat inordinate amounts of meat, but they aren’t out grazing anywhere we have seen – we’ve seen 2 small herds of cattle in 3 and a half days. Well they couldn’t let them loose there would be nothing to stop them wandering to the artcic or to vladivostok.

I never thought it would be beautiful. Daft really, after all, I have read – and am reading – Tolstoy (and LOVING it) and he portrays the Russian landscape with such love.

And now when the train stops we are accosted by lovely women selling wonderful food on the platforms which they make themselves, its still hot, and delicious and unbelievably cheap! As so often happens when travelling its the unexpected impromptu no frills meal which delights so much more than yet another restaurant however rave its reviews.

OK lets get this over with. And a fitting one for post no 13. You want to know, how are the loos on the train????? Come on, admit it, thats why you are really reading this……will you stop once you know????

The answer, I am delighted to report, is FINE! As good as it gets. In fact this Moscow to Vladivostok train’s loos are even better than the Paris to Moscow train for all that that one was supposed to be the positive royalty of trains with its showers and electronic locking compartments. Our loo on this train has a plethora of antiseptic wet wipes to wipe the loo seat, tissue seat covers for the squeamish (or the dextrous), soap, towels, hot water, clean walls. And one of those thick rubber mats with holes in it so if there is any spillage (there wasn’t) you don’t have to stand on it and anything can drain out onto the tracks below via a hole in the floor. The flush is formidable. Best not to drop anything down the loo, it will get atomised!

With my delightful next door neighbours (Swiss German) we ventured along the train to the restaurant car, through 2nd class (same as our 1st class but 4 berths instead of 2 – a bit cramped, I’ll be having a go at that before too long, don’t worry) and 3rd class with people kipping everywhere (mostly very nearly completely undressed, well it was hot) on shelves in an open carriage looking for all the world like the aisles in a supermarket. Sorry to disappoint you, I’m not going to try that one.

Sleeping is lovely. Rocked gently and lulled by the muted train sounds, cacooned in my cabin, I am happy. We have pristine white sheets and towels.

A notice on the wall in the corridor displays the stops along the way – decipher it if you can! (Now we are nearing Omsk where we will arrive at 13.20 Moscow time – all times are displayed in Moscow time – which is 16.20 local time and stay for 42 minutes – a chance to jump off and stretch our legs or buy food supplies).

This is our closest point to India so a wave to all my Indian friends far to the south across Khasakstan…………..

People ask me why – why I do it. Whole books have been written about this and about people who do proper travel and exploration and mountaineering very far removed from my meanderings which are very tame by comparison. I read one which asked women why they do it.

And the answer was always the same and is my answer too. They – we – don’t know why we do it but we just have to.

Today, stepping out of the train during a longish stop for some fresh air, there were people hawking stuff to passengers – big fur hats, huge teddy bears, shawls, stuff. A woman caught my eye. She was small, ordinary, middle aged. We smiled. And there you have it – a connection, for a moment, with someone whose life is so different from mine and will go on unaffected by mine the minute I’m gone – for that moment we connected, there was nothing in our lives but each other, 2 women connected by a smile.

Oh yes, and my insatiable curiosity. I want to KNOW what is round the next corner, over the next hill and what it feels like to be there.

Getting reacquainted with Tolstoy. Fabulous!