Like a Peking Duck Out of Water

Leaving behind the dirt roads, fighting and chaos of the mongolian border we eventually arrived at the squeaky clean chinese city of Erlian. Without any kind of phrasebook, Andi managed to secure us our first chinese takeaway, using hands feet and masterly charades skills.

We took a sleeper bus overnight to Beijing. The beds were perfect for me, and the majority of chinese people but anyone much taller (or
wider) wouldn't be so happy. After a few fairly disgusting toilet breaks (I'll spare you the details) and the accumulating heat of 50 sweating bodies, the novelty of the sleeper bus soon wore off.

Arriving in the middle of the night and with no clue where we were, we gladly took refuge in a 24hour Mcdonalds until daybreak. The huge jump in temperature and humidy from Mongolia soon became apparent as we searched for our couchsurfing hosts. After the simple but great pleasure of having a first shower after a few days of public transport and intense heat, we could relax in our new temporary home. As always we had a lot of planning to do and no clue about the new country we were in. Luckily Yuli and Roman did and were more helpful than any guide book could be.

The further east we have gone the cheaper restaurant food has become.
With this we happily frequent local haunts where we can eat a delicious feast for a couple of euros. Chinese food heaven you might think. Until of course you find the menu in only chinese without the all important pictures. Here is where you enter a dangerous zone, where you are opened up to the pletheror of animal body parts you would rather not consume.

And of course the dreaded chilli peppers for breakfast scenario - always a good start to the day. For Andi this sitution presents itself as an exciting opportuntity to broaden his food horizons, where fate will decide what you will encounter next. When you find the waiter coming towards you, proudly presenting a large pile of meat and nothing else, its not hard to guess that you are about to consume some kind of speciality. At this point you order another beer. After further enquiry into the restaurant we see a cartoon picture of a donkey on the wall.. mystery solved. Luckily the novelty of voluntary exposure to the eating of hearts, testicles, and everything inbetween has worn off for my eating-machine friend as we try to stay on the straight and narrow.

Beijing is a good city for tourists, with far more to see and do than we even attempted. We did however make it to the Great Wall. And more, we managed to get there by public bus, rather than being stuck in a tour group as most are resigned to.

Our little £17.50 festival tent that has accompanied us all the way from England was still going strong. So we headed for the wall, and attacked the huge amount of steps that awaited us. With no time limit we made our way slowly across, from tower to tower, me with an umbrella against the blazing sunshine and Andi with one of those round straw hats you imagine in the paddy fields. Looking quite ridiculous we finally made it to the end of the tourist section and a little further. At dusk everyone suddenly disappeared and we were left alone to set up our tent on the highest tower as the sun fell behind the mountains. We drank the beers that we had torturously laboured up a few thousand steps -sometimes steep enough to have you down on all fours.
The effort was rewarded as we watched the silent landscape, the great feat of construction snaking elligantly through the hills, from what can only be described one of the greatest camping spots in the world.

Touristing the Mongol Planes

We arrive at the capital Ulaanbaatar. Every single traveller in Mongolia passes through this needlehead and such it was an ease to catch some comrads for our journey into the "wild". After the usual rain that we tend to drag to places - even if they barely ever see water - we eventually leave the city to its flooding disaster.. past lakes that fill the roads with whole buses stuck in it. We felt like apologising but guessed we would be declared as fools.

Some hours later, 7 backpackers from 5 nations, a guide and a driver glide smoothly like a ride on a wild bull over the vast empty vallies of Mongolia. Other than on horseback this is likely the only way one can navigate the chaotic braids of dirt-track that scar the peaceful and fenceless flatland. Passing hords of free animals and randomly distributed gers, our eyes catch children sitting near the tracks. We stop to buy from the young seller Ayrak - fermented milk with only little alcohol. A delicious drink for mongolians and only for them as for our taste it smelled like.. well.. fermented milk. We head towards the temples of Karakorum - built from the leftovers of the ancient capital of the largest empire in history. "You can conquer the world from the back of a horse but you can't rule it from there", a wise man once said. And the only reason to find the foundations of this once thriving city in the middle of dry-nowhere.

It takes another 6 bumpy hours and some sleeping pills against roadsickness for our singapori friend till we get to our final destination: Terkh White Lake. A feeling of mystery crawls over my back as we drive past the frozen lava streams and hundreds of carefully built stone piles. People had too much time here. A gorgeous view over a huge blue-green watery mirror with a volcano on the edge opens up. Already i am excited for the coming day, to hop on my horse without a name. As in Europe we take riding lessons and all of that kind of expensive crap I didn't know what to expect. A funny sight it must be for the experienced Mongolian riders, when a group of foreigners try in vain all pitches of the word "shuh" (meaning GO! if you are a Mongol horse), forcing him to round us up into the right direction. An hour later I eventually got the idea and found myself galloping rather proudly towards the silent volcano. Staggered we stand at the top of this holy place and with ease I can sense the power that had been alive here. Holy indeed. Back to the ger we honour the day with Chinggis Khan vodka, poker and some propper traveller's tales.

Our next destination, after the obligatory long bumpy jeep ride, was the steaming hot springs of Tsenkur. Walking along a forest competing in its green to Bavaria, I encounter what I wouldn't have believed existed.. a swarm of 20 eagles circles above our heads. Our daily dose of Chinggis vodka this time was shared in the naturally heated tub - hot enough to have killed off any future offspring in advance.

As everything is touristy organised we don't miss out the desert that cross our path on the way back. We stop at a local family's place and kill the time watching the work of the masterly mongolian riders while the sun sets behind the dunes. With elegance they gallop behind the free herds, catching the young mustangs while making a 180 degree turn without stopping. Time for dinner. A salad and all kinds of bits of meat (but mostly bones and fat) are cooked via hot stones added into a huge pot by the local Mama. After a cosy night of 7 in one ger we face a significant decision.. horse or spitting camel. Some eyeblinks later Ava, steadily the swarm of mongolian men, was sat on a horse, accompanied by one of the riders, galloping into the distance. So off we were to the sand piles either riding or in case of huge camels rather trotting, our friends clinging desperatly to the huge bristly humps.

For a change from dunes to civilisation we head back to the only big city in this country - having had a great time with great people.
Thanks for the pictures, Jan!