Wanderlust Heaven!

I celebrated the two-year anniversary of my travels by getting horribly lost in the Gobi Desert. Not my fault, by any means. Nomadic Journeys, my tour operator, had an inexperienced driver, and my guide and cook didn’t seem to know where the ‘camel meeting-point’ was, either. More on that in a moment.

Seems like a lifetime ago when I touched down in Adelaide, Australia to see friends Ian and Stephanie. At that point, I had no idea how long I’d be traveling; if you had forced me to come up with an estimate, it would have been about two years. Well, here I am, and I still have no idea how long I’ll be traveling. And I’ll make no further estimates…it wouldn’t be useful to even hazard a guess. Let’s just say it will be a while longer. Anyway, the experiences, adventures, memories and images I’ve stored up over the past couple years means that if I do make it to old age, I’ll be well-prepared for sitting on my ass telling stories all day and night. That’s always been one of my modest goals in life.

So we (Mary, Kaz, and I) were off on another trip, this one prosaically entitled ‘CML03,’ the logical extension of ‘YAK03.’ This was a 5-day tour of the northern Gobi, accompanied by local staff, camels and horses. Just the sort of organisms you’d like to have with you when you tackle the world’s second-largest desert. I awoke the morning of our departure with a brutal hangover, courtesy of the previous night out with the Kiwis. I chugged a half-liter of water and shouldered my pack, then left Zaya Hostel. I was looking forward to more adventures with Mary and Kaz, as they were terrific companions on YAK03. The one sore spot, still: John in Shanghai had flaked yet again. And he hadn’t even done anything while I was in the Khentii – hadn’t contacted Jan at Nomadic Journeys, hadn’t left me any updates, etc. So on my one day in UB I had rung him up, and heard from him that his business problems were still to be resolved. I empathized, but was still very annoyed that he had left me to clean up all the crap.

As soon as I knew John wouldn’t make this trip either, I texted and emailed Jan to tell him. Jan later replied in an understandably annoyed manner – and said that really John should pay a US$200 cancellation fee, as the company had bought food for him. I agreed, and gave him John’s email address. There was a bit of a mixup earlier on, I suppose, when Jan had asked for a US$200 deposit while I was still in HKG. I had paid US$200 for each of the 2 trips, so US$400 in total. His staff seemed to believe I was paying $200 for both John and I, even though my accompanying email had specified what I was doing. And Jan had replied, saying that paying that much was good for him (they have to buy food up-front, etc.). When I reached UB and went to his office, they had presented me with a bill for over US$1,200, which was the total for both John and I. I told the staff that we’d be paying separately, and that was that – but something got lost in the translation. Personally, if I were Jan & co. I wouldn’t lift a finger until I got paid, but they went ahead and assumed John was coming without any data besides what John told me and I shared with them. Not a pretty situation. And not one I plan to get mired in – if Jan wants his $, he can deal with John directly. I’ve been a good doobie the entire way through this – I don’t deserve to get penalized as a result. And I won’t be planning any further trips with John – I don’t care how busy someone is, if they can’t be bothered to lift a finger and send a one-sentence email saying they can’t make it (and save themselves a possible cancellation fee too), then I’m not dealing with them.

In a sense, I wasn’t unhappy that John wasn’t coming – I had enjoyed hanging out with Mary and Kaz and introducing John in the mix might have produced some volatility. Particularly when we wound up driving aimlessly through the Gobi for all of Monday – we were lost for 5-6 hours, and John wouldn’t have dealt well with that. Mary, Kaz and I were all somewhat annoyed, but kept it together – at the very least, we were seeing a lot of the Gobi from the comfort of a (Russian) jeep. Eventually, after asking around at the scattered settlements, we arrived at a ger camp, and a guy from there hopped in the jeep and steered us to the place where the camel-crew were waiting for us.

We spent that night in tents, with the small ger used for cooking. Tungaa the cook was also on the trip – I wouldn’t be losing much weight as a result. No prima donna, her – I watched her chopping wood for 20 minutes and I don’t think I would have done as well.

We also had the same guide, Anka, who as I wrote earlier was just OK. The other local staff: Nyamka, Bayaraa, and Olzii, three 20-something lads who herded our camels and horses and did just about everything else.

We had 5 camels with us – 3 to pull carts, 2 to ride. We also had 3 horses to ride. Lots of animals for 3 customers, but the price was right and we weren’t complaining. The last time I rode a camel was in the Great Thar Desert near Jaisalmar, India – this would be a longer, more involved deal.

It was windy as we prepared our tents for Monday night. No surprise there. Before dinner I climbed a nearby rocky hill to get a good view of the desert – at the top it was very windy and a bit rainy. This country has the craziest weather, far more variable than anything in New England, Melbourne, or other places I’ve visited.

Played a game of chess that night against Kaz. Close game, but I pulled it out, thereby redeeming myself for my awful card play in the Khentii. I suppose my preference and decent skill in chess speaks to my personality – I like an in-depth, skill-based, one-on-one game and not a more expansive game that involves a high degree of luck.

That was Saturday. On Sunday I got up in solid shape, having slept pretty well despite the howling winds. I was getting used to sleeping in a tent – not that I’d like to spend more than a few days at a time in one. We finally got moving, camels, horses, and humans. After spending all Saturday in the jeep, it was a most welcome change. My legs needed stretching.

Bayaraa, our horseman, was endlessly entertaining. Boys will be boys everyone – this one taught us the usual critical words in Mongolian. Das – shit. Shiz – piss. Nosh – fuck. Not only that, but Bayaraa took the time to drill down, for example picking up a dried camel shit and telling us it was ‘teemay das,’ camel shit. He also picked up ‘mer das,’ horse shit. There was a bunch of other fecal products – cow, marmot, dog, etc. In fact, Mongolia has more animal shit lying around than anywhere else in the world – I’d swear on that. Even in the Gobi, much of which is desolate and arid, there’s a dried shit every meter or two. Unbelievable. You do get used to it, but still you find yourself stepping around the larger offerings…

The Gobi is a weird place – most of it is scrubland, with sand dunes scattered around. I think that further south there are more sandy patches – but it was also early summer and I imagine later in the season the place gets fairly green. The dunes are quite cool and they really stand out from the parts with more vegetation.

A few random shots from the trip:

Sunday was a hot day and that was a welcome change. Mary, Kaz and I persisted with our ‘Mongolian Summer’ jokes, but with the coming of the heat and sun we lightened up – now it was ‘Mongolian Summer, Leave Your Gloves at Home’ and the like. We spread our time across walking, riding camels, and riding horses. Here’s the camel team – the boys (and girls) of summer:

We set up camp that afternoon in the shadow of a high sand dune – which would help shelter us from the wind that night. The dune towered over the lowland by probably 30 feet – Kaz and I ran up it, but needed a good running start, and even then we had to use our hands at the end. We spent some time atop the dune with Nyamka and Olzii, who challenged us to both sumo and Mongolian wrestling. I lost badly to Olzii, a very large fellow, but drew with Nyamka. Kaz is young, fast and light, and did a bit better than I. We then tried arm-wrestling. Nyamka lost to Olzii, then I went against Olzii, expecting to get murdered quickly – but it seems that my past work with the resistance cord paid off. I managed to fend off Olzii for 5 minutes, and even threatened to win, but eventually he won. Still, I think he was impressed that this 40-year-old did so well. After that, Kaz arm-wrestled Nyamka and won. The Mongolians probably didn’t expect to have their hands so full with us soft tourists…

Had fish for dinner that night – a nice change of pace. I’ve been so fucking gassy since I got to Mongolia. The problem is worse in UB, for some reason. The locals don’t each much fish and I felt lighter and ‘cleaner’ after Tungaa cooked us up a fillet. Not sure what the name of the fish is, but it was great.

It rained that night, after dinner – I suppose the crazy weather wasn’t behind us as yet. I ducked into my tent and plowed through a good chunk of The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie, the third book of his I’ve read. This one was proving to be a great read, too – and I could see why the Ayatollah got pissed off at him, Rushdie explicitly questions the legitimacy of Mohammed and Islam, and even suggests that it’s all a con job. And I’ll stop right here before I get a fatwa put on me…

Monday morning – very hot in the tents. The sun was shining and it looked like another good day here in the desert. Got out of the tent – Nyamka was bringing the camels in from their grazing areas some ways off. The previous night the boys had taken most of the camels and horses to a well some kilometers off, and they looked a lot livelier as a result.

I took a rare crap in the WC. The boys put up a ‘WC tent’ which is open-roof but enclosed on the sides, with a pit dug for ‘output’ and toilet paper. Good for privacy, but more importantly it shelters you from the often hellacious winds. I had brought some of those ‘wet-wipes’ and these proved to be valuable during the trip – if you can’t shower after dropping a deuce, then a wet-wipe is your best bet. Are these things only used by old people and hygiene freaks? I might be easing into both categories…

Bayaraa’s stomach had been bothering him. It appeared he might have a case of appendicitis – Nyamka had had his out, and Bayaraa’s pain was on one side and was sharp. Mary had some traditional Chinese meds and she gave him these – over the next couple days they seemed to have a positive effect, and Bayaraa was his usual sunny self throughout the trip (lots of ‘das’ and ‘shiz’ jokes when the animals did their business), but when we finished the trip Olzii’s brother brought him to UB to get it looked at.

Camels chew sideways. I took a video of this, which I’m too lazy to bother posting, but it’s like something out of Star Wars. They work their jaws from side to side and it’s such an odd sight. One of our camels was darker than the others, and had a head that reminded me of an ostrich.  Her humps were also more pronounced and impressive – most of the others were low on water and their humps were droopy. Here she is:

We broke camp and headed off. After an hour we reached the well mentioned earlier – we watered the animals, and Nyamka had me pull up the bucket so that I could experience the thrill. The well wasn’t that deep, and it wasn’t difficult to bring up the water.

Got on a horse after that – and managed, with Bayaraa’s assistance, to get into a fast trot. Not quite a full gallop, but probably the fastest I’ve ever gone on a horse. Terrific thrill – you could be thrown and perish at any minute.

While I was riding, I saw an iconic image, one I was unable to photograph in time. A guy was riding his motorcycle a few hundred meters away, and there were two beautiful black/brown horses right in front of him, galloping full speed to stay ahead of the bike. Their manes were streaming in the wind…it was almost completely silent…it was an image out of some alternative paradise. Mary was also unable to grab her camera in time, so we didn’t capture the image. But I think I’ll never quite forget it – I can’t imagine a better photo for a Mongolian picturebook or guidebook. Just stunning, really.

I daydreamed while riding – mostly about sex, of course, but I also wondered how the Celtics (basketball team) were doing against Detroit, and how the Democratic Primary was going. I am a news junkie and wouldn’t have minded 15 minutes on the Internet to check things out. We did come across a couple points where Olzii’s mobile worked, and then everyone called their families…but I had left my Treo behind in UB, and didn’t feel like being a needy, bothersome tourist by asking them to find out what was going on thousands of miles away. Sometimes you really need to focus hard at staying in the moment and place…

That night, after setting up camp, Mary, Kaz and I went for a walk in the nearby dunes. Kaz spotted some gazelles and tried to follow them. These creatures are lightning-fast, so much so that I never managed to get a photo of them. Mary and I looked for Kaz for a while, then figured that he’s a big boy and can handle himself, and walked back to camp. Kaz didn’t show within the next half-hour, so we all set out to look for him. Nyamka and Mary climbed to a high point and soon spotted him – thankfully, not in the maw of a wolf. Slight scare…

We had also found a nest in the hill, in which were 3 eaglets snoozing/resting. Never seen anything like that before.

A bit later, Olzii was trying to get one of the camels to sit down – an involved process that you should see sometime (getting up is similarly interesting). At one point Olzii let up on the reins that go through the camel’s nostrils and mouth…and the camel, seeing his chance, vomited the contents of his mouth, a mix of grass and god knows whatever sorts of cud it was chewing. The yellow-green splatter went a couple meters and some got on my shirt and pants – hallelujah. I did have a change of clothes in my pack, and got those on pretty quickly. I vowed revenge against the camel – and after brushing my teeth that night, I went over to him and spat my toothpaste juice on his face, then ran off. I don’t think it even registered. Oh well.

That night was our last in tents and ger – the following night we’d spend in a ger camp, which is just a cluster of gers, along with a restaurant/bar ger, a shower ger, etc. So this was really our last night of roughing it, and to celebrate I pulled out a large bottle of Chinggis vodka. We all got at least 2 shots, and Anka punished me by pouring a double-shot for my last one. It was funny – Mary, Kaz and I hadn’t expected to get a crew as good as the YAK03 group – Erdenee and Ganaa – but the new group was a lot of fun as well, younger and more immature, with all the wrestling and references to shit and piss. Good contrast between the two tours and local staff.

After the shots, I gave my camera to the boys to review the pics. I no longer had the old Philippines scuba pics in memory, but they had a few laughs checking out the shots from YAK03 and this trip.

Slept well that night – not too much wind, not that cold, and the vodka had to have played some role. Got up the next morning (Wednesday) feeling refreshed. We packed up – one of the carts had a dodgy wheel so we left that behind and loaded more onto the other two carts. Walked for a few hours that day, had some more fun on a large sand dune in the afternoon, and a few more laughs along the way. Bayaraa was practicing his English and told Anka ‘I love you.’ And loads more das and shiz jokes as the horses and camels did their thing.

Saw some gazelles during the day, too, but they were too far away and too quick to photograph. Oh well.

Reached the Arburd Sands ger camp around 2 p.m. I had walked all day, no riding, so was pretty beat. Got my own ger, Mary and Kaz were in the adjacent one. Had a Tiger Beer and bought a few beers for the gang – took a nice hot shower – lay down to rest and read the Rushdie book. Dozed off, then Anka got us together for tea, and a couple hours later, for dinner. All good.

Before the sun went down we did our group photo. The ‘Library Ger’ (really) had a few dels (traditional Mongolian coats) and hats, Mary and I put these on and hammed it up before the group photo. A few shots from the session:

Read the rest of my book that night. Around midnight I went out to piss (shiz) and despite having a headlight it was quite an effort to make it over to the toilet. Got back to my ger and passed out on the bed, thrilled to be able to sleep on something relatively soft.

In the morning it began to rain – and gers are open at the top, to allow for a pipe coming from the cooking/heating stove. Within minutes the staff had thrown a cover over the roof, thereby eliminating the one problem I was facing that morning. Bravo. Soon arose and had breakfast – Tungaa didn’t have to cook, the ger camp kitchen was now handling things, so she pulled out her Sudoku booklet and worked on that.

We set off for UB after breakfast, with plans to stop at Mandshir Monastery en route. Ashuy the driver had come to fetch up, and we drove for a couple hours in the desert. Ashuy was the driver several days before, when we had become badly lost, so I was a bit concerned – but he had gone to UB and back since then, and presumably knew the way. My concern was heightened when it appeared he wasn’t sure which (dirt) road to follow at one point – I asked Anka whether we were lost, and commiserated with Mary about this possibility. I was in no mood to get lost again and get to UB late at night. Anka seemed to get annoyed with our concern, and when we got out for a bio break she told me in no uncertain terms that we were not lost – we were taking a different road than we had previously, because we were going to Mandshir and not UB directly. Fair enough…still, the customer has rights and given our previous experience I think I was in the right to wonder if we were lost. Anka shouldn’t have been so touchy – perhaps she’s not particularly secure about her own knowledge and situation…

Got to Zuumod, the dumpy little capital of Tov aimag (province), and drove through there to get to Mandshir. This monastery was leveled by the Soviet goons in 1937, and the ruins are still there, along with some rebuilt temples. The original complex had lots of buildings and residences, now the place is a shadow of its former self. But it’s still a pleasant place, nestled in a forested valley. Spent an hour wandering around, then got back in the jeep to head to UB.

En route, we noticed a big truck weaving like mad some ways ahead of us. Really weaving – it swerved all the way to the left, forcing a minivan coming the other way to skid off the road, at one point onto two wheels – it looked like it was about to flip over. It did not, thankfully, but my immediate thought was that the driver of the truck was drunk. We followed at a distance, ready to pass when he gave us an opening. It took a few minutes, but we did get by him, had a look, and the driver had a completely glassy-eyed countenance – must have spent the morning drinking vodka with his passenger. I’ve never seen something quite that bad – and when we got to the tollboth soon afterward, we told a cop there, who took off in a random car to check things out. Not sure what happened after that – but I wouldn’t have been surprised if the truck went off the road and at the very least got stuck in a ditch. Mongolians are renowned for their love of strong drink – and apparently don’t mind practicing in a variety of settings. This one was pretty frightening.

Got back to UB, and Zaya Hostel. Turned out that they were working on the water mains and there was no hot water, nor would there be for 5-7 days. Jeez…I was dying for a hot shower, and was grateful that I’d had an approximation of one the previous afternoon at the ger camp. I took a cold shower now, and it was without a doubt the coldest shower I’d ever had. I don’t mind room temp water, or even a bit colder, but this was positively Arctic – you had to do a hit and run, getting under the water for 3 seconds, then getting out…or using your hand to pad the water onto your body. Using soap or shampoo – hazardous. I was not happy, but was too tired to go elsewhere. I’d see how things developed.

Took all my filthy stuff, camel puke included, to Metro Express, a full-service (and full-price) laundry chain. Sleeping bag, parka, sweater, everything needed a good washing.

Went out that night for a big meal at Ikh (Great) Mongol, a meat eater’s paradise with huge pitchers of beer. Read a local magazine, noticed an add for a local securities outfit – they had cribbed the photo (of a smiling Asian woman) directly from a Japanese ad I’d seen all the time whilst in Tokyo. Nice. I watched a newscast for a few minutes, the newsreader had a Mac notebook in front of her and I thought about what a great bit of advertising that was for Apple. Went over to Marco Polo for a bit, but it was crowded and I was tired. Thought about going over to Amrita, but put that off and went back to Zaya Hostel to relax.

Next day, Thursday, did some errands, and went out that night with the Kiwis. Back to BD’s Mongolian BBQ – met some American staff from Michigan who were there to train the locals. Cute blonde girl named Kristin, I think. Then spent the rest of the night between Marco Polo and Amrita – the guys were pretty impressed by the floor show at Amrita, which I covered in a previous post.

As you can imagine, I’ve spent much of the past 3 days writing these blog entries – going two action-packed weeks without doing an entry has resulted in a huge pile-up…and has reminded me painfully of the necessity of staying on top of the slog. I’m getting weary so will wrap this up pretty soon – thanks for staying with me.

Friday night I met up with Bolor, my new Mongolian friend who I met at Amrita before my treks. He was supposed to meet me at Dave’s Pub, but didn’t show…so I went back to Zaya Hostel to check my mobile. Sure enough, he’d called and texted – he was now at Dave’s. Wonderful. I know Mongolians aren’t that punctual, but still. We ended up meeting at a lounge right below my hostel, called Level, where we had a drink. Then he took off with a friend of his who had just returned from Germany. I had hoped Bolor would show me round the best places, as he had promised, but I guess that wasn’t to be. I decided to go to Strings to hear the Filipino band…and when I got there I noticed the Celtics-Lakers game (#1 of finals) was on the tube, so sat there and watched the 2nd half. Quite a good game, and the right result. Maybe we can get our first championship since 1986 – a hell of a drought. Of course, other Boston/New England teams have helped fill the void, but still the Celts are a storied franchise and they are in sore need of more banners to hang from their rafters.

Went to Amrita after that for a couple drinks, then walked home. En route I passed a bunch of tough-looking Mongols (even tougher than the average ones) who had shaved heads and mohawks. They were clustered around a car with a huge swastika (Nazi, not Indian) painted on the hood. Charming. As I walked by they noticed me and started hooting and barking like dogs. Nazi worship in Mongolia – what a world. I didn’t respond to their provocations – although I silently wished I had a revolver and could shut them up. I just walked on, trusting in the laws of natural selection to clean that lot up before long. Maybe we need the Simon Wiesenthal Center over here. Food for thought.

On Monday I fly out to Lake Khovsgol for a week. This lake is apparently stunning and is the ‘cousin’ of Lake Baikal in Russia. Friend Nigel hiked around the lake a couple years ago and loved the place, so I’ll spend a week up there, staying at two ger camps (not in tents). Looking forward to some kayaking, fishing, hiking, and chilling. Will post my next entry when back from that, in a bit over a week, so stay tuned. Go Celtics! Over and out.

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