22/4/97

I leave this morning; Ogderel insisted on seeing me off from the airport. Before I went I called on Tonya to ask about the border crossings she had mentioned the last night. She very kindly rang up the head of the border police, and we went over, where he assured me that there were two crossings, and it would be OK to cross as far as he was concerned; he couldn't vouch for the Chinese (I mention their locations in the FAQ). The moral of the story is, if you want to find out about the scene, find the English teachers and ask them what they know, because everyone important is trying to learn English these days. Just don't tell Tonya that I told you so!

Anyway, back to the airport. Ogderel insisted on booking me in at "baggage", which was rather kind of her as she had a bank to run! She then left me in the capable hands of Uti for the flight back, but not before I had given her my coffee; the only thing that I had to give her other than money, which would have probably be seen as insulting. Uti was slightly amazed as to how I could be so friendly with the local bank manager, and wanted to know what I had done for her. "Oh, I just tried to get her to cash some travellers cheques" I replied; definitely one of my better one-liners! While we were waiting for the plane, a dozen primary school children started playing a version of grandmother's footsteps with me; creeping up behind me to touch me then running away, so I amused myself by making some faces at them, which sent them running in delighted terror. You would think that they had seen enough foreigners; there were ten jeeps and crews waiting for the twenty or so Germans who arrived on the plane. Sadly, this time it was a passenger variant, which prevented me from illustrating the finer points of Mongolian air travel (I hadn't been able to take a picture on the way out). However, it was at least 50% overloaded and the seats were all broken, so I can continue to claim a moral hardship allowance. Uti was much more relaxed this time, spending most of the flight quietening the baby in the seat ahead. Personally, I think the pilots were highly competent compared to the Yank who flew me into JFK last year; you would have thought that we were landing an F18 on the Nimitz.

Uti and I shared a taxi back to town so I could get an idea as to how Mongolian students lived. The answer is very simply; I've been in some grotty places, but I've never had to share a mattress on the floor, let alone put up with a hyperactive ten year old wanting to play catch all the time. However Uti managed quite well, and held down a translating job as well as college work; us Brits just don't know how well we have it back home. It was the least I could do to buy her dinner, over which we swapped life stories. She was born near Lake Hovsgol, with her granddad a famous Buddist monk; I decided it would be tactful not to ask what had become of him. This made it rather surprising to hear her announce that she was a Bahai, especially as I hadn't the faintest idea what they were! It turned out that they were people that believed in one God and that the earth should be one country. They also seem to place a lot of emphasis on near death experiences, which seemed to trigger off an old memory of mine. I had heard of the Bahai before; a colony of twenty or so moved to the Falklands in 1981- to avoid the threat of war! I left Uti at her lodgings for a quick break before she went in to work- until four in the morning.

23/4/97

Mission of the day was to find some transport out to Teredj, a nature reserve about 80k north east of UB where I hoped to do some hiking. Knowing what I know now, I could have got a bus for most of the way, followed by a bit of hitchhiking. However, I was as yet untutored in the local ways, and believing everything I read in the LP guide, I felt that I had no choice but to hire a jeep, which was somewhat expensive at $60; I arranged to leave the day after tomorrow. Dinner was with Uti who exploited the fact that the Bahai were largely Indian by cooking a curry. Very nice, especially as I hadn't had one for a month. Apparently, there's an Indian restaurant down town called the Green Club; must visit sometime. I was also told that there was local "jeep bus" that made the eighteen hour journey to Dalanzadgad once a week for 10000T (about $14); so cheap I could hardy believe that they could pay for the petrol. She didn't know anything about lifts to Teredj though, which was just as well as the thought of all that hard currency going up in smoke in one go had made me fear for my future ability to corrupt Chinese policemen!

24/4/97

In the morning I discovered some new neighbours; two Aussie's who'd just arrived from Irkutsk. They'd met all the same people I had; Sasha the bike nut, Marina etc. Funnily enough, they hadn't wanted to sample the nouvelle cuisine on offer in UB, and merrily marched off on a "ger camping trip". Hope they enjoy the Airag (fermented horse milk) and boiled mutton. Their replacements were a Frenchman and a Brit. Told them where to go for a good time- not the Ulan Baatar Hotel.

After a sojourn in the Elephant cafe for a bit of lunch after writing all those postcards. It's just east of Sudabaatar Square and is heartily recommended if you like greasy meat soup plus karaoke videos (without the sound luckily!). No, I'm being unkind, it's a lot better than most places that you'll see. Walking back to my end of town, I decided to call in on the Bahai centre (three hundred metres west of the UK embassy). Either the religion is taught only in English, or they only recruit English students like Uti, because a surprising number spoke it. I was met eventually by a Mongolian who promised to pass a message on to Uti that I would see her in few days. Let's just hope that their innocent inquiries about religion in Britain don't develop into a conversion attempt, especially as they all seem to think that I'm after Uti.

25/4/97

Up early to get into town for my ride east. Trogging down into town with the rucksack elucidated some amused grins from the locals, who have obviously seen other backpackers dressed for the Gobi staggering through town like drunk camels. I'm sorry to miss the Steppe Inn tonight, but I'm feeling a bit of a fraud hanging around town, Uti's company notwithstanding. On to the hills- and I hope I can hitch back!

My driver drove me out of UB over a series of dual carriageways, then out along a road parallel to the railway line to China for about twenty k, then swung north over a long earth track that crossed a pass, down to a small town, then finally to a large river, at which we stopped and paid the park gatekeeper about 1500T to enter the park. I thought that this was where I would be dropped off, but we continued for another 20k up a long valley, passing a tourist camp with the famous concrete dinosaurs I had heard about, and finally coming to rest in front of another tourist camp (hotel would be more accurate), with a few token gers scattered in front of it. I was feeling a little peckish, so I went in to see what it was like. The staff are very friendly, mainly seeming to consist of students on holiday jobs; the barmaid was an Economics undergraduate. Apparently, there's no-one here right now, but tomorrow a load of French schoolchildren are arriving for a French speaker's conference, so they won't want one of those "Anglo-Saxon imperialists" hanging around then. However, extensive enquiries on my part showed that the bar staff spoke not a word of French, so they'll have to speak English or Mongolian if they want a drink!

About fifteen minutes after my arrival, the staff were galvanized into action by the arrival of the hotel boss, who demanded a box of chocolates and a couple of bottles of beer, which were polished off within quarter of an hour. Then it was a bottle of vodka, which disappeared within 20 minutes! Obviously he wasn't paying for his food; dinner here for foreigners is $16, which translates as way out of my price range. Even if it had been essential I'd have had to starve all the way back to UB! Anyway, it seemed like a move was in order, and I climbed the nearest hill and hiked down the valley along the ridge line. The view was superb, and it came with an added bonus. After the first summit, tracks and footprints and all other evidence of humans disappeared, and I was left to follow a compass bearing through virgin forest; what a privilege. However the pleasures of hiking into the unknown were cut short 10k later by a rather large cliff, which was unsurprisingly not shown on the 4 cm square map of Teredj in my LP guide. The way round consisted of two alternatives; a climb for another 300m or so to a rocky ridge, or a descent into the valley. Given that it was already 4 pm, I decided to descend.

After climbing all the way back down I rounded a bend in the road to see what looked like a small tourist camp with a ger alongside and I decided to have a look- and nearly got torn apart by a rather large dog for my pains. When I had managed to approach with my throat still intact, the locals were extremely friendly; and I was absolutely amazed at their ger, which could best be described as space age, powered by a large bank of solar panels and with a two hundred channel satellite TV receiver! However the tea was still salty, and the man of family even more so; I got the impression that he wanted me to marry his youngest daughter. However, I reckoned that the day was good for a while yet, and I set off down the valley after leaving behind another City of Wells postcard; look out for them!

Moving further down the valley I encountered a tourist group on horses. They seemed to be mainly German, and friendly; five minutes after meeting them I found two of the Mongolians leading back a horse for me to ride. At times the locals are so polite and generous it hurts, but I explained that I had to go everywhere on foot, if only to avoid some good natured ribbing when I got back home. About a mile further on I arrived at the camp where they had come from; the dinosaur bedecked horror I had seen earlier. I had assumed that it was still run by Juulchin, but after poking my head round the door in search of some food, I found out that it was privately run now, and a lot friendlier than I had expected. The boss was a young man who turned out to have been a member of the Mongolian national theatre, who, I was told, had played Chengis Khan more than once; a sign that he is highly regarded within the profession. The latter was explained by a language student who was working as a translator, with whom I was speaking in a mixture of pidgin English, Mongolian and French. Her boss soon arrived, speaking in fluent French, at which stage I gave up completely and started talking in English, in which he immediately replied that he had been told that there was some foreigner here that was insisting on only speaking French! He turned out to be a VP of Siemens Nixdorf who was here on a business trip; staying here was just a weekend diversion. It also turned out that the student had been a diplomatic school in UB at the same time as Marina, although she didn't remember her.

The evening passed in a bit of an alcoholic haze, but a good time was had by all. Eventually I was left alone with one of the Mongolians drinking fruit tea, teaching him English. Looking carefully around to check we were alone, he asked me the English terms for various sexual organs! It seems that people the world over are fascinated by "dirty" words.

View down to official tourist camp from top of mountain	Turtle Rock; if you drink enough Arkhi

26/4/97

Today I took it a little easy; after all, I had wanted to do two major peaks here and I've done one already. I saw the second on the way in; a massive flat sided affair, about 400-500m high. As it's on the way out of the park, I'll do it tomorrow as I leave, something that has been forced on me by my shortage of US$; Mongolians tend to insist on foreigners paying with greenbacks, and facilities for cashing travellers cheques seem rather thin on the ground. Besides, my feet are giving me hell! I appear to have made a friend for life here, in the form of a sheepdog that follows me everywhere, even when I went for a three hour walk or to the khasi. Before you ask, no, I haven't fed him!

This evening saw some new guests arrive; two Russians seeking relief from the grind of buying copper futures. They could hardly be more different either, with Nikolai being sober, English-speaking, and a diabetic (he caused a sensation when he injected himself with insulin, with many cries of "narcotic" from the onlookers!). Alexei on the other hand was a rather more average Russian, with a wicked grin and an alarming tolerance for vodka. On learning where I was going he insisted that I consume most of a bottle of Arkhi. This was apparently going to help me on my journey, although I felt that the only journey he could have meant was six feet under. On staggering back to my ger, I found that I had company; a little eight year old called Badraa, who stared at me with all the amazed interest that Ogderel showed back in Dalandzadgad. She found my family pictures particularly interesting, but I managed to get her to leave before I fell asleep.

"My" dog and the cook	Alexei and Nikolai

The "dinosaurs"