How I came to Mongolia
I met Ogie in Beijing while staying at the Leo Hostel south of Tiananmen. She walked into the common room and let everyone know she was Mongolian. I might have guessed. Her high cheek bones and long black hair give her a look that doesn’t quite match the Chinese. We start to chat and soon I introduce myself. She grasps my hand with her vice like paw and stares me down with her laser glare. She has the most commanding presence of anyone I’ve met and after and hour of hearing her speak so passionately about her homeland, Mongolia is on my itinerary. She has been a tour guide for the past ten years and her family opened the Golden Gobi Guesthouse in Ulaan Baatar in 2005. At $4 a night how can I refuse?
When you arrive at the Golden Gobi you feel like you’ve arrived come home. Ogie is waiting for me in the living room and greets me with hugs. Two seconds later grandma is asking me “tea or coffee,” a question she repeats about five times a day. Ogie runs the place with her mother, three sisters and brother. They all live here and sleep in the open beds. When the place is packed I’m not sure where they sleep. Ogie’s two nieces Gochin and Urin are 11 and 5 and soon I’m the prime target and they constantly pester me to play. They take everyone in like family with absolutely no warm-up time and keep you on your toes. On day two Ogie’s sister Enkushi tells me to move guesthouses because she doesn’t like me. She chuckles, hugs me, and shows me to my new bunk. I feel at instant comfort in Mongolia.
Tags: Eurasia: Marco Polo-in' it, Mongolia
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