gobi desert & kharkhorim
My guide and driver arrived early. We travelled for 6 hours along an endlessly straight road in a wide open expanse of featureless land. The road is a festival of potholes that has the driver swerving here and there. Just like me in the back. The only traffic is oncoming and they a Russian-made trucks carrying gravity defying loads of cow hide. Each family slaughters a cow for the winter so it's peak season for cow hides. Inevitably, the raw product is being sent to China. I learned as we had stopped at a truckers cafe along the way and I spoke to one of them. A great bear of a man, wrapped in multiple layers and a face that was probably washed in diesel that morning. Reasonable English though.
There isn't a lot to Gobi other than sand. Of course, it's a desert! I visited the edge of it. It stretches for hundreds of miles. It took only a little while to climb one of the sand dunes but truthfully, where I was, they are very modest in size. Go further into the Gobi interior and it takes two hours to climb to the top of one of the sand dunes. Gigantic.
On my way down the dune, I met a dog and threw a bun for him to fetch. He legged it off to get his prize but from nowhere, three magpies honed in and began fighting each other over it. The bun being too heavy for a magpie, they could only take pieces from it. Then the dog arrived and before you knew it, a four-way fight (with great violence) was under way. The dog won but I bet his head took a battering from their beaks. I tell this story as it amuses me but also, it shows how tough life is in the Gobi.
That evening I stayed with a nomdic family in their ger (tent). It was minus 35 but amazingly it was really warm inside their home. I was greeted with a huge bowl of meat on the bone, spuds and a kind of greasy pitta bread. I was given a sharp knife and set free on the roasted meat. What is it? I asked. Horse! Two to one odds on favourite to be in my belly by the close of the race. A most gracious, delicious philly. Tastes like a cross of lamb and beef. Beautiful. Come get me RSPCA!!!
I brought a bottle of vodka as a gift for the family and was very happy to see them share it with me. There are buddist customs associated with how you drink it but in essense, it's a question of just lashing it back. The family told me a traditional musician was in the area and asked whether I would like him to play for me. At 4 euro's, it would be stupid to say no.
I have never seen a more weather-worn face in my life. I will not compare his face with an object or animal. Although I could. There was something charming, humble and worldly in his face. He played for 2 hours. Just to me! Oh, the family were there but they were pottering around the ger doing other things. It was hard to contain my joy. He was dressed for success. All the Genghis Khan haute couture! He had 3 different types of traditional instruments. He could make notes in the following ways; 4 types of banging wood on the skull, 4 types of finger flicking, 4 types of noise from nose, throat, lungs, stomach. Just wonderful. The general theme of the songs was horses, love and baby camels. I wondered about the connection between these pieces. With his instruments he could mimic the sounds of horses and baby camels. It was uncanny. In the end, I was so happy I increased his concert fee to 10 euros.
At my somewhat drunken insistence I persuaded my driver (half -cut too) to drive the musician back to his ger. I would come go along too. My motive was to secure another bottle of vodka. The musician directed us to the shop, passing completely barren land. So a bottle for me and a bottle for the musician. It was an amazing journey as there wasn't any kind of road, it was pitch dark, the car rocked up and down, and all to the accompaniment of our musician singing for us.
Got back to the ger safely! More vodka, horse, dumplings. A lovely night. Next of all I awoke at 7am running around the ger in my jocks. Bear in mind that everyone sleeps in the same place so it wouldn't have been a pretty sight for them. My guide woke up and asked me what I was looking for. Water. I was pointed in the right direction. Once my thirst had been satisfied, I sought the tiolet. Squat, hole in the ground, opening between boards, cased in an out-house. I could only think of the horror of ever being so unlucky as to fall down the hole.
More dumplings and went off to see Genghis Khans ancient capital and the nearby monastery. Hard to believe that Kharkhorum was once the seat of the largest (territory-wise) empire the world has ever seen. Now it's no more than a dusty village. It's main structures were wooden and are long since gone. Just like my camera battery, I thought, it went flat and that freaked me out a little as I had only just charged it. Later I learned that it was simply too cold for it to operate. Minus 35. The monastery has also seen better days. Only a few stone structures remain within its magnificent walls. One of these was occupied by thirty Buddists monks who were chanting. I sat with them and listened for a long time. It was very nice.
Soon it was dark.
There isn't a lot to Gobi other than sand. Of course, it's a desert! I visited the edge of it. It stretches for hundreds of miles. It took only a little while to climb one of the sand dunes but truthfully, where I was, they are very modest in size. Go further into the Gobi interior and it takes two hours to climb to the top of one of the sand dunes. Gigantic.
On my way down the dune, I met a dog and threw a bun for him to fetch. He legged it off to get his prize but from nowhere, three magpies honed in and began fighting each other over it. The bun being too heavy for a magpie, they could only take pieces from it. Then the dog arrived and before you knew it, a four-way fight (with great violence) was under way. The dog won but I bet his head took a battering from their beaks. I tell this story as it amuses me but also, it shows how tough life is in the Gobi.
That evening I stayed with a nomdic family in their ger (tent). It was minus 35 but amazingly it was really warm inside their home. I was greeted with a huge bowl of meat on the bone, spuds and a kind of greasy pitta bread. I was given a sharp knife and set free on the roasted meat. What is it? I asked. Horse! Two to one odds on favourite to be in my belly by the close of the race. A most gracious, delicious philly. Tastes like a cross of lamb and beef. Beautiful. Come get me RSPCA!!!
I brought a bottle of vodka as a gift for the family and was very happy to see them share it with me. There are buddist customs associated with how you drink it but in essense, it's a question of just lashing it back. The family told me a traditional musician was in the area and asked whether I would like him to play for me. At 4 euro's, it would be stupid to say no.
I have never seen a more weather-worn face in my life. I will not compare his face with an object or animal. Although I could. There was something charming, humble and worldly in his face. He played for 2 hours. Just to me! Oh, the family were there but they were pottering around the ger doing other things. It was hard to contain my joy. He was dressed for success. All the Genghis Khan haute couture! He had 3 different types of traditional instruments. He could make notes in the following ways; 4 types of banging wood on the skull, 4 types of finger flicking, 4 types of noise from nose, throat, lungs, stomach. Just wonderful. The general theme of the songs was horses, love and baby camels. I wondered about the connection between these pieces. With his instruments he could mimic the sounds of horses and baby camels. It was uncanny. In the end, I was so happy I increased his concert fee to 10 euros.
At my somewhat drunken insistence I persuaded my driver (half -cut too) to drive the musician back to his ger. I would come go along too. My motive was to secure another bottle of vodka. The musician directed us to the shop, passing completely barren land. So a bottle for me and a bottle for the musician. It was an amazing journey as there wasn't any kind of road, it was pitch dark, the car rocked up and down, and all to the accompaniment of our musician singing for us.
Got back to the ger safely! More vodka, horse, dumplings. A lovely night. Next of all I awoke at 7am running around the ger in my jocks. Bear in mind that everyone sleeps in the same place so it wouldn't have been a pretty sight for them. My guide woke up and asked me what I was looking for. Water. I was pointed in the right direction. Once my thirst had been satisfied, I sought the tiolet. Squat, hole in the ground, opening between boards, cased in an out-house. I could only think of the horror of ever being so unlucky as to fall down the hole.
More dumplings and went off to see Genghis Khans ancient capital and the nearby monastery. Hard to believe that Kharkhorum was once the seat of the largest (territory-wise) empire the world has ever seen. Now it's no more than a dusty village. It's main structures were wooden and are long since gone. Just like my camera battery, I thought, it went flat and that freaked me out a little as I had only just charged it. Later I learned that it was simply too cold for it to operate. Minus 35. The monastery has also seen better days. Only a few stone structures remain within its magnificent walls. One of these was occupied by thirty Buddists monks who were chanting. I sat with them and listened for a long time. It was very nice.
Soon it was dark.
posted by Ciarán at 8:39 p.m.
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