We stopped in the middle of the desert at a couple of lonely sheds . Our driver Shaggar did not need directions in the usual sense as he always knows where we are going – and by the way no self respecting Mongolian would EVER use GPS in any form – but needed some local knowledge about finding a route through the sand. After much chatting we were delightfully guided for the next mile or so by a woman on a motor bike with a little girl riding pilllion who waved and pointed and gestured and laughed.

One of the days I got to ride in the support van which was great. It meant a view through the windscreen and an open window beside me and I could see more and appreciate better the landscape around me. That day we drove over fresh wolf footprints in the sand and saw a herd of wild gazelle and passed an oasis – a small area of dense trees and green crops surrounded by a few cars and gers and a single sandy track passing it by. Have to confess I loved the sense of just being in the landscape, my only companion our support driver. Despite our not having a word in common we communicated occasionally, we agreed the sheep were ready to shear, he pointed out the gazelles, that sort of thing. I am genuinely enjoying my fellow travellers but my real love in travelling is not to spend my days on a bus full of westerners with a guide interpreting everything and this was great.

There is no way I could have done this trip independently – logistically – the distances are too great and the centres of population far too small and few and far between – you can’t hop on a bus to get around. We are on a tourist trail, we come across other groups doing exactly the same thing at the stops but I am lucky to be able to just step away and revel in my surroundings and get my fill of the desert and just so happy to be here.

Here’s a long shot of our bus near the oasis.

We stay in ger camps which range from the delightfully simple with ingenious showers and loos which are a seat over a hole (in a shed I am delighted to report) to the almost luxurious but showers and loos there were at every stop and boy did we need those showers after the long hot bus rides! These ger camps sit isolated in the enormous landscape often with no other habitation in sight.

And we’ve met some local people along the way. At our first camp we visited the family who run the ger camp we stayed at and milked their goats and crowded into their ger for chat and curiosity. In the middle of that one their landline phone rang!!!!! Another time we just stopped and asked a random family out on the steppe who were in the middle of setting up their home for the summer, they were horse breeders and had just come down from the hills where they winter as its more sheltered. I didn’t go into their ger, preferring to inspect a line of their horses tethered nearby and bonded with our support driver who’s a horseman and raced in the Nadaam when he was a kid. Next time I see him I’ll ask if he raced bareback!

This horse breeding family may be nomads but don’t hink for a minute they are poor or in need of tips from us – they have 4 gers and many fine horses, a motor bike and truck.

We’ve had fabulous days and lovely walks out in the open landscape or into narrow gorges (where there is still ice left over from the winter as the sun never reaches there) or down over the most incredible sandy cliffs – here the land has shelved down in a massive way revealing an enormous hoarde of dinosaur fossils which were excavated in the 1920s. We’ve seen Buddhist temples and Shaman stupas and a museum of stuffed animals – not sure what to feel about that – it included snow leopards, lynxes, eagles, camels, the lot.

Apparently I was very honoured to be allowed to inspect their best horses at close quarters – very much appreciated. And specially that connection with people that goes beyond language

OK over the next couple of posts you’ll get random snippets from our 7 days in the desert, written on the road…..

So, I’m travelling with a group of people, most if not all of them are veteran group holiday people – all like travelling to out of the way places and are used to fitting in with a group and I am very much enjoying their company – they don’t seem to mind my propensity to linger at the back so I can be alone in this incredible landscape and just revel in being here.

We’ve had very long hot days driving across miles of steppe and desert. Our bus is Russian and our tour leader assures us its the best for this sort of trip because its a good old fashioned bus built to last and can be fixed on the road – he pointed out that a modern computer controlled vehicle is no use to man nor beast when it conks out in the middle of Mongolia with not a garage in sight and no phone signal. All of which is to the good as we had several unscheduled stops for engine tinkering. Fine by me – a chance for a pee and for me, another chance to stand and stare. I can’t get enough of this place.

Its vast – we drove through huge plains, rolling hills, flat hard sand and gravel desert, past and through desert cliffs all under the widest skies you have ever seen, mostly blue, sometimes lowering grey clouds, occasionally overcast and windy. HOT!

And the very lovely thing is the smell – some places are more green than others but there is very little grass, its all herbs and wildflowers. the main smell is lovely and fresh and I am assured its wormwood, we”ve had camomile, thyme, sage (I’d better stop there being useless at plants before somebody points out that these things don’t grow in Mongolia! But I assure you the smell is lovely)

Lunch and loo stops was just a case of driving off the road and stopping. We peed behind the support van if there was no other cover.

There were tarmac roads for a bit of the way and then just dirt and sand tracks. Our driver got us there every time, there are virtually no landmarks and although he was following tracks how he knew which track is beyond me. Our tour leader said he just drives and the road appears before him….

We stop to take pictures of eagles, enormous vultures, cranes looking just like big herons, herds of grazing cattle, sheep, goats and horses – and camels.

Yes I’m back in the land of the living, and thank you all for your good wishes and comments on this and everything.

Today we saw the most incredible horse race. Several hundred small, tough Mongolian horses raced 14 kilometres across the open plains. They register first and are checked over – to make sure they are proper Mongolian horses and nobody has managed to sneak in an Arab. This happens at the stadium and finish line and where its all at – people thronging about, lots of them on horses just for the fun of it, gers (mongolian tent houses like yurts), constant commentary from the megaphone, in fact in many ways reminiscent of a British horse event but bigger in that it’s hugely spread out – then they all trot the 14 km across the plain to the start line, accompanied by jeeps, before turning round and racing back. These were the 3 year old horses who get a shorter race – the 5 year olds get 32 km – and it was shortened today because it was pissing down and conditions were bad. When they cross the finish line their trainer meets them, on horseback, and leads them triumphantly away. Oh yes, did I mention the jockeys are aged between 6 and 13 and most of them ride bareback?

Pics to follow – internet somewhat random here…..

That’s the winner and yes he’s bareback

Back from the desert and it was FAB but when we got back to our hotel in Ulan Bator I collapsed in a heap. Just the usual travellers tummy but, well, one of the worst….. have woken this morning feeling more human and will venture out to the Nadaam and see what happens……more anon……wish me luck……

PS don’t worry you won’t get gory details or a blow by blow account of this particular miserable aspect of travel!!!!!

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!