The other side of Mongolian Green Hills

Turned my back to the computer,  put my feet back in the grass and my thumb in the air. Bolormaa peeped her head above the fence (the fences are mostly to prevent robbery in towns) and her mum followed curiously. How fun, she had learned English from two doctors who stay in a ger at their property! Time to ask many things and give rats ass to the road. No cars were passing by and I aimed for a stay inside Bolermaa's fence. Still there is this strange distance between you and the Mongolians, but I guess it's just the way it is. I have not seen parents kiss their children after the age of ten, no warm hugs between couples and no kisses when friends would meet each other. Often not even a handshake, or a really odd one between woman. That's why it really surprises me that dads take a huge roll in raising their babies. They LOVE to hold them, tickle their weenies, make cute faces, learn them to holdon on their motors, put them on horses and change their diapers.

Bolermaa's mum and brother told me I had to hitch another way, South instead of North, only here I could pass the river with a bridge, over in the North it would be questionable. So we rolled on with the family on this photo. Ten strong: kids, one baby and lots of smoked fish from their Khoveskhol lake. It was time to do a jeep race...... I could not help giggling when we would fly through the air with the serious bumps to which I only spurred him on more. really not funny, this became a little to crazy.

Good for me most cars I hitch with are tourists in their own country too, making photo's and giving offerings to the ovoo's along the way.

Without a doubt, the craziest bridge in work I've EVER seen, look at the bents and dents!!!!!!!!! It squeaked when you walked across, I would have been a little scared to have driven the car across.

The photo's is too small, but this is a perfect example of how roads appear from a village and all go their own way, I had to walk 5km to find a spot where they would meet.

It took a looooong time before cars passed by, three hours or more I waited. A couple had taken me along for a few km on their motor bike, and then this man and a very old grandma passed and waved me along. Me on the back of the bike, grandma squeezed in between. Of course I had to visit their family living in four gers. When we arrived they all came to one and I was fed nice milktea and fried dough. This I really like. My photo album from home was a big hit and after a while I had to come outside and.....

Help milk the goats! Great! They all had gathered near the gers and were strung together by their horns, heads to the ground, in a circle, so all asses and udders were pointing outside. Look at this one! Only four years old and milking like there was no tomorrow, slapping the udder for more milk and filling that bucket just as quick.

No, then me, going slow, having shit in my milk and an angry goat at my hand. I did get some milk no problem, but as fast as those girls, not in a million years. Just today I send a letter with the photo's I made to this family, I hope it gets there.

The funny guy on his motorbike helped me tremendously, it turned out I had taken a back road instead of the main route. So he drove me 25km onwards to the crossing, otherwise I could have been stuck another day in this wonderful experience. With the sunset I hopped into a truck to dribble further along the washboard roads.

Another day a little van picked me up and broke down (happens often, just like flat tires) I didn't really like those man and the little boy that not wanted to play Frisbee in the two hours we were waiting for the daddies to fix the car.

So when they stopped somewhere to have a look if the fixed thing stayed in place I peeped out. It was getting late anyway and the family at this lonesome house were happy to see me. Like many times they plant their butt between the sheep and goat droppings and watch everything I do with ohh's and ahh's. Like I have a big magic bag. Until I say 'tatadadaaa!' at the end and it's time for milktea to soak my noodles (why not) in their brand new house and explaining how and what with the words I know by now. Strange, I never get sick of that, I've seen those photo's hundreds of times, I know the words to explain them in several languages and still it never bores.

A dark photo, but we were in a dark place. I finally got to Uliastai, an unknown place for tourists, but good for horse trekking I read in the LP. I had to ask for Tuya at the big restaurant in town according to the book. So I did. Four hours later I had to return and we would talk to a horseman, but instead she showed up with a friend and we went to a disco. Wow, did we dance to the poppie-disco-beats, from beginning till end, which was when the police stood at the door at 23:15. Turns there is no partying after eleven in the countryside. It felt just like at home in my squatting place where the police disturbed every party after 23:00 as well, hahaha. Tuyas friend turned out to be the owner of this disco (nono, I still had to pay) but she also owned a brand new fancy hotel. She liked my moves, was very nice and offered me a room (without shower, bummer) so I would not have to put my tent at 1am. Relaxed.

And here we are. Mathu and her horse. Tuya drove me out of town, we talked with the horseman the next evening (it was a long day of unpredictable waiting) and he would bring me this horse in the morning. Just right there, 10km out of Uliastai, in the direction of Otgon Mt it turned that Tuya had a sister with a new build house for rich office people to have meetings and to sleep. No joke, this was really too much. I got offered to sleep in a bed, leave my stuff here and borrow horse necessities. Miraculously we had driven by a house in town to pick up a saddle and bristle, no asking, no questions, everything was just there. And nobody talked about a guide, something I liked best.

So there I went, three days I drove my tame gelding, my brave not-to-be-disturbed-by-anything horse. Through boring open plains, along a fresh river, over peeks, sagging through the swamps, being lead by me over big stones and through dense bushes when I lost the way, galloping down hills, trodding through high grasses and wandering among trees. First nights camp, six hours of riding. An iron pin and long rope were to graze my strong little four-feeter. A nice little island in the river, some wood, thousands of stars and no thieves who stole my horse, so good.

Next day along lakes, meeting and greeting other rides who stare at you: 'Alone?'

This is the big lake and in the distance the 4000m Otgon Mt for which this park is famous. A secret mountain to the Mongolians, you are not allowed to climb it, so we only took some photo's of it's snow. Two packs hang from the back, one with camping gear, the other with food.

Dayan Mt, from wich we saw Otgon, was/is a big pilgrimage site in this country. This huge rock is hung with the popular blue silk scarfs....

.....given many offerings of food, water and alcohol and walked around three times for good luck, health and prosperity.

A little hole in a flat rock made for an amusing time, fat ladies tried to squeeze through it to be 'born again'. Well, I cried like a baby when I popped through, but no big differences. 

It was a hard struggle to get back to the river, taking an adventures route through swamps and bush covered mountain hills, but we did it. I'm so proud of my perseverance, my strong will and my anticipation of wanting to see what's behind the next hill or corner. This horse followed me, I loved it.

Second camp in the morning after building a fire for tea and writing my thoughts.

Mongolians are born in the saddle, he's watching how his dad tries to stay on a bucking and crazy horse who has not been ridden in a long time and became half wild.

In side their beautiful ger.

Being offered more milktea and fried bread with the softest cream, mmmm

Golden grasses stole my breath while dancing in the wind.

I had to get back. To my shocked surprise I had to enter China BEFORE the tenth of August. It was the eights and I still had a 26hour drive and 15hour train ride before I would hit that boarder town, freak!  Like flying Elee's I hurried my ass back on the road. Hitching hard and waiting very impatiently all of a sudden.

Back to the capital of Ulaanbaatar. Another peek into the countryside first. Dad was put off at this water drilling spot, to supply the people and animals of needed fluids in this valley. The ger was dirty, with five guys and no cleaning.

A very different sight then most homes I had seen so far. No coziness.

Pasta soup with fat mutton was made before grandpa and  the two kids brought me further.

Back in Tosontsengel, I had been here before. I kept asking even though it was late at night, but I got lucky with a minivan who squeezed me in, the eight year old girl had to go on my lap. The only drive I payed, to get back as quick as possible, well... quick. We had only one driver, so he did the twenty hours we still had to do in about twenty eight, he must have had dry eyes. For me it's a long ride too, I arrived this night at 1am, helped out some guys at the hostel, had a really nice hot shower, slept three quarters of an hour and got up to arrange a train ticket. With guys on the streets who dangle their wieners from their trousers and drunks yelling I was not too happy to be back in this ugly city. I got my ticket, I leave tonight at eight, enough time left to arrange some things like change money, wash clothes and write this part. Mongolia, proud, harsh, self sufficient-wanna-be, tough and holding on. I've seen it here for now. I'm very happy I know what to find here, I have to go to the far West or the Gobi desert if I want to see something else then green hills next time. I was getting bored with the scenery, I was getting used to the food. I'm happy to meet curious Chinese people, I will miss the space and lonesomeness. This country is endless, in commitment to itself and to the eye, I will enjoy the variety by now.