Ni hao,

So...I'm writing this a couple of days in retrospect...but..I made it! To Beijing, to be precise, after only 47 days of wanderings..And here I am, it's 34 degrees and humid outside, but I'm sitting at my own desk in my own apartment, playing with the air conditioning thermostat, tapping away on my own computer, listening to jazz on radio 3 via the internet...wonderful.

But we've got a lot of days to get through. I warn you that this is not going to be as full of historical fact as the others. It was a different sort of journey, I went from not seeing any other foreigners for 2 weeks to being surrounded by them! I was also happy to give up independent travel for a while. It's fun, but it can be exhausting, as your whole life revolves around you own survival..finding somewhere to sleep, something to eat, and how to get to the next place...it's nice to just follow along behind for a change!

As I think I told you, arriving in Ulaanbataar and organising a trip happened in a rapid blur, and before I knew it, i'd changed my travellers cheques into huge piles of togrog (the exchange rate is 2300 to the pound), done my very overdue laundry, and bought a fine After mongolian horseriding-hat, and found myself in the bag of the 'Russian Van' with two Dutch, an Austrian and a Latvian. They were to be my travelling companions for the next 12 days, and together we were to experience many trials and tribulations, small disasters, moments of wonder and much hilarity..I seem to be incredibly lucky with the people I meet when I travel, and I think we all liked each other immediately, settling into a comfortable routine of shared jokes and similar wishes for the trip. This was just as well, considering we would spend the majority of it bumping around in the back of the van..these 'Russian vans' are the standard tourist and local use vehicle in mongolia, the only difference being the number of people packed inside (it's that old 'expandable space' trick all over again), and the fact that the tourist ones all have a sticker on the left hand window saying 'tourist' in english and Mongolian. Just in case you hadn't noticed them. The van itself is grey..always..with forward and back-facing seats, for ease of conversation and increase in travel sickness - ours decorated in a fetching grey and black cow-print, and very little suspension, but an incredible ability to negotiate any pot hole, hill or ford, however bad. I'm sure this was due in no small part to the skills of our driver, Buya (we had various arguments on how to spell it but this was the final version..).

Buya was very much how you'd imagine Mongolians to be - short, squat, strong, stoic, thick black hair and a belly of which he was exceedingly proud, endlessly cheerful and with a wicked sense of humour which surfaced despite the fact that we only had a few vital words in common - 'toilet', 'eat', 'ger', 'horse' and so on. I think we were a matter of some concern to him, due to our endless mishaps and general stupidity, and he teased us in a kindly way...it soon became a standing joke that every time we asked how far it was to go, he would answer '5 hours!', regardless of how far it really was, a signal for everybody to burst into giggles (really, it never stopped being funny!). He also was in possession of the 'drivers tape', a tape of Mongolian songs, which, I swear every driver had - there only seem to be 10 songs in Mongolia, you hear them EVERYWHERE! Needless to say, we knew them pretty well after a while..

Our first day of journeying took us to the ancient town of Kharkhorin, (Karakorum) which was briefly the capital of Mongolia from 1220 - 1260. The site was chosen by Chingis Khaan (you may know hims as Genghis), and it was once an elaborate network of gers and buildings. The Mongol Khaans were famous for their religious tolerance - no less than 12 different religions existed harmoniously within the town. Today there's very little to see, apart from nearby Erdene Zuu Khiid, the first Buddhist monastery in Mongolia. Like Buryatia, Buddhism in Mongolia was almost exterminated at the hands of the communist regime, this time by the home-grown Choibalsan, a stooge of Stalin - in 1937, 27,000 people were executed or 'disappeared', including 17,000 monks, and almost every monastery was razed to the ground. When back in ulaanbataar, I went to the persecution museum, which has a paticularly chilling selection of human skulls full of bullet holes: yellowed photographs of old lamas and destroyed monasteries dominate the walls. The victims were forced to dig their own graves before being murdered. You get the feeling the years of repression are not spoken about much, and there is still a town named Choibalsan, and Lenin-esque statues and street names; despite his ruthlessness, he is still surprisingly well regarded due to his efforts to protect Mongolia's independence - it must have been tough, being stuck between the soviet union and communist china. By siding with the USSR, they probably at least managed to preserve more of Mongolian culture than in the event of a chinese occupation.

I'm starting to wonder if there is anywhere that didn't suffer genocide during the 20th century. I've travelled across half the world, and the evidence shows no sign of abating. However, Chingiis khaan had a pretty good go at matching the horrible statistics: there were reported massacres of up to 1.7 million at a time, and about 30% of the population of central Asia was done away with in the nastiest possible way. I'm a bit confused about old Chingis. After a period of being frowned upon, he's now immensely popular in Mongolia: there's chingis everything - beer, brands, pop bands, resturants...you name it..I talked a bit about the influence of the Mongols in russia. Imagine, it's 1241, the Mongol hordes, complete with thousands of horses, enormous longbows and giant catapaults, have swept through eastern Europe, burnt Krakow and are poised to take the west, when Chingis's sons both die and, according to custom they must return to appoint a new leader. How relieved would you feel? The mongols also brought the Black Death to europe, with devastating effect- it still surfaces from time to time in Mongolia today, spread by eating infected marmot, the only edible carrier of the disease, prompting occasional qurantines.

However, the Mongols also chose diplomacy whenever possible; torture was never used and soldiers given strick quotas of how many civillians to kill. I already told you about the many innovations they brought, and Chingis introduced a written script for the Mongol language (later jettisoned in favour of the Russian alphabet), brought about an artistic renaissance, and set up a strict code of ethics, the yasaq, which called for discipline and religious tolerance - not to mention uniting the warring tribes. So, monster or miracle worker? I'm sure this is a subject of much debate.

It's interesting to reflect on the comparison with mongolia today - the world's most sparsely populated country, fighting off its pushy neighbours. I think you can get a little feeling of this contrast from mongolian people - kind, peaceful, unhurried , but also tough, pushy and strong. (There is no such thing as a queue). You've got to be tough to be a nomad (50 % of the population are nomadic or semi nomadic)- there's nothing romantic about living in a state of pure survival. Life revolves around the ger (yurt), a communal living place with its own rules of etiquette, requiring a large degree of cooperation, which is said to have had a profound effect on the national character. During the winters of 1999 to 2002 11 million animals were killed due to the severe weather of the- 'zud' (harsh winter, when livestock cannot find grass). The 'five snouts' - cattle (this includes yak), goats, sheep, horses and Bactrian camels. These represent everything - food, fuel, clothing, and of course wealth, in varying amounts - I like the idea of the ratio of animals - 'i'll swap you one horse for six sheep' and so on! If you are wondering what is in all those empty spaces, I'll tell you. 1. Grass 2. Herds of assorted animals 3. Occasional gers 4. Lots and lots of space. I cannot emphasise this 4th point enough. You can drive for 5 hours and see maybe 10 gers - when stopping for lunch, sometimes a child will appear from apparently endless plains, sunburned and skinny with a mangy dog in tow. Where do they go? I believe that Mongolia as a country occupies a strong position in the imagination, and gazing across the green and brown steppe, topped by panoramic skies of bright blue with picture-book fluffy clouds, it is everything you would expect. To me however, it looks best in darkness - I never knew there were so many stars. Lying outside your ger, bundled up in warm clothes, a cozy fire roaring inside, listening to the sounds of yak snorting as they pass by, watching the stars falling to earth (yes, I know they're meteors really..)...what could be nicer? Apart from food not involving mutton, fat or horsemilk!

So..oh yes, Karakorum- not much left now, apart from nearby Erdene Zuu Khiid, a beautiful but partially destroyed monastery in a desert setting. I hate making comparisons, but after visiting the perfectly preserved living monasteries of Ladakh, there was something sad about the few still standing in mongolia - despite the exquisite architecture, and the efforts being made to restore them and revive buddhist knowledge, it feels there is a long way to go. There's a lot of religious competition going on right now- evangelical Christian groups, always quick to spot a religious vacuum in the wake of state atheism - are everywhere, and it is generally considered a more 'modern' religion.

We continued to Terkhin Tsagaan Nuur, the 'white lake', perfect for swimming and gazing at the sunset. Next door to our ger, with its fine lakeside view, was a mongolian family on holiday - about 19 in a ger, with one incongruous dutchman who had married a mongolian woman, they slaughtered a sheep for supper and had a great old party. the mongolians I saw butchering animals gave the impression of having done it since birth, (which they probably had, almost), and it was an interesting protest to watch: neat, humane, unwasteful, each part of the animal having a specific purpose. Nearby was an extinct volcano which we climbed up to with hordes of mongolian tourists(after some confusion of where we were actually going, having asked Buya if we should take our backpacks and if we could swim there, much to his amusement!) Like everywhere else, there were lots of horses, and the next morning we all clambered onto the rock-hard saddles and went for a ride. I had mixed feelings about horseriding in mongolia. It's absolutely incredible to canter across a wide open plain. But attitudes towards horses are just different, and treatment, by our standards, rough - I winced every time i saw them being yanked around by the mouth and hit with large sticks, and the rough rope bridles and girths chafe their skin. But those used for tourists seemed in good condition at least..after all, the mongols were the original horsemen, so who are we to impose a set of standards?

Anyway, mongolian or not, all horses are easily startled, and just as we were jubilantly returning, the one ridden by Manuela, the Austrian, was spooked by something and she fell off. And didn't get up. It was a horrible moment, seeing her prone form ahead and I was terrified she might have hit her head (as of course we weren't wearing hats). Everybody clustered around her, us, mongolians, and a group of Israelis who magically appeared like shining knights, being the only people who seemed to know what to do. (Let me take this opportunity to take back any nasty things i may have said in the past about travelling israelis. If i'm ever in an emergency, I want some on hand!) One of them, Tal, was a medic in the army and she did all the important checks and announced we should get her to hospital as soon as possible.

As we were by a lake in the middle of a national park, and the end of a long rough track, this was not such an easy proposition, and, trying to reassure poor Manuela as she lay unable to move and on the verge of fainting, we waited anxiously for the doctor to arrive. He seemed optomistic, announcing that their seemed to be no serious damage but she should be checked anyway, so, after the israelis had created a stretcher and tied it into the van with some yellow and orange ropes (the colour seemed fortuitous, at least), manuela, myself and three mongolians set off down the agonizingly bumpy road to the town. It must have been very painful, though i tried hard to hold her still, and upon arrival, the doctor merrily announced she could walk to the door, which she managed with help. All the mongolians present were frankly, pretty useless and distinctly lacking in sympathy...I guess falling off horses is a common occurrence! The scene inside the clinic, despite the severity of the situation, was quite comic, as the doctor cracked jokes and then looked embarrassed about having to bandage her up (an ultrasound having shown no internal damage), announced she would be 'tomorrow, ok!' and recommended smoking a cigarette, much to her delight!

In the end, it was a fortunate end to what could have been a very nasty situation, as Manuela had only bad bruising - we waited another day (she certainly chose a beautiful spot to get injured in!), and, for the rest of trip, she stoically endured the endlessly bumpy roads. I feel that there should be a different word for Mongolian roads. They are not roads as we know them! I think we went on one paved road for the entire trip, the only other being a a permanent state of roadworks (involving digging the whole thing up and then leaving it to ripen, perhaps - otherwise it is simply a track in various grades of drivable-upon-ness. This is fine until it rains...and when it rains, it really rains! But mostly we were pretty lucky. After a while though, much as you'd hate to admit it, you start to dream of the A1... but it's nothing a few mongolian songs, and a bowl of airag can't fix! (This latter substance is a mildly alcoholic drink made with fermented mare's milk. Ok, it's disgusting! But it sounds good!)

We continued through the town of Moron, where we encountered the Israelis, one of whom was sick, causing me to whip out the 99 kinds of medicine i had with me (i'd already got it a bit of acupuncture with manuela) and thereafter we travelled in tandem with them, as they'd organised their trip through the same guest house, so of course we ended up nin exactly the same places..This is what travelling in mongolia is like...so much space, and yet you bump into the same people wherever you go! It seems to attract nice people though, so it was fun, and still a great novelty after Russia! After a week of journeying, we reached our goal, the shining jewel that is Khovsgol Nur (Khovsgol lake), high, pure and clear, ringed by rocky mountains and pine forests, home to bears, moose, argali sheep, shamans and reindeer herders. This was the landscape I'd glimpsed from my Siberian train, and so it was wonderful to be in it, to sit and listen to the sounds of the forest and swim in icy-cold khovsgol nur, the deepest lake in central asia, containing between 1- 2% of the world's fresh water - it so clear that you can see every pebble on the bottom through the endlessly shifting shades of turquoise..

But enough rhapsodising. At this point we divided for a couple of days, some choosing to hike (and poor old manuela to sit and look at the lake), whilst I, having already picked up the 'why walk if you can ride'? attitude, opted for a 2 day horseriding trek. This involved me..and six Korean students, on a horse for a first time (brave people!), and two young laid back mongolian guides who were kept constantly amused by rescuing the koreans from wherever their horses had taken them in search of something to munch on and shouting 'choo' at them (this is what you say to make your horse go faster. I refused to particpate!). As we rode across sweeping plains, through thick forests, along rivers and over mountain passes, they sang and whistled constantly, beautiful, traditional tunes that were deeply evocative of..well, riding a horse through Mongolia! That night we stayed in a ger by the lakeside (the koreans sweetly insisting that I shared with them - 'we koreans, we sleep on floor'!, huddled around the fire as the ground outside became covered with frost overnight. Happily I have a lovely warm sleeping bag (these things make a greaty difference to one's general travelling happiness!), but in the morning the poor koreans were all cuddled up together, shivering..ahhh...

In true 'Mongolian time' style, the guides didn't turn up with the horses until mid-afternoon, and on my wanderings, I met a dejected figure sitting by the lakeside next to the dying embers of a campfire, with several saddles next to him. It turned out him and his friend had bought some horses, intending to go for a long trip through the north, but, despite sitting up all night to watch them, they had been stolen, after only three days, the ropes cut and whisked away into the dark forest. Actually, they suspected they had followed by the person they bought them from, who had agreed to buy them back at the end... So, there's a cautionary tale, should you have a romantic vision of buying a horse and taking off across the plains. I heard of some other people whose horses were so wild, all they could do in the end was let them go. I don't know if mongolians really steal horses from each other, but apparently across the russian/ mongolian border it's a big problem.

Reunited, we trundled on south for our last few days, a few more camfires and starry nights, another monastery, the peaceful Amarbayasgalant Khiid. We stayed in the only room of a little house next door, filled with family photos and buddhist artefacts, and as I walked across the valley,, with shining white stupas behind me, smelling the distinctive smell of the flowering grass the grows everywhere, and encountering three horsemen wrapped in dels (traditional dress), who called 'sai bain nu' through the encroaching dusk, I felt that I'd trul discovered the Mongolia of my imagination at last.

Unfortunately, this dream didn't last long, as during the night I started to feel really sick, and my stomach was in spasms, and all I could think about was the flies, and the heat, and the ticking clock, and the smell of mutton and milk tea...eventually I dragged my sleeping bag outside, where the sky was spitefully free of stars and lay listening to the howling and barking of the dogs as they raced around the village. It was not an enjoyable experience. Nor was the 8 hours of driving the next day (though i've never been so happy to see a paved road!) I staggered back to my hostel and slept for a long time, until i felt fine. I think i well (whisper it) was just..sick..of travelling! After all those weeks of motion, it was time to stay still for a while.

Of Ulaanbataar, i don't have much to say..i can't say i was paticularly enamoured with its ugly, noisy streets, shiny facades that seemed to have no substance. Though I'm sure it would be a fascinating place if you had time to get to know it, it gives the impression of being somewhere that has grown up so quickly that it couldn't keep up with itself..that the lack of infrastructure doesnt match the new fashionable exterior and brand advertising. After a final meal involving - wait for it- salad! , our little band parted ways, sophie and michael (dutch) for more hiking, manuela home to austria, the israelis to the south of china and myself and Dana (the latvian) to beijing. This involved an overnight train, which was comfortable an uneventful, to Zamyn-Uud, the bordertown, where we found a ride in a battered old jeep with a mongolian family across the border. It took 4 1/2 hours of queuing (I say queuing. only mongolians could find a way of pushing in in a long line of tightly parked jeeps in the desert), in the blazing heat (well, hey, at least we saw a bit of the Gobi!), and some amusing incidents including a border guard who panicked as he couldnt undo the lock on my violin case, and i discovered sitting with my book entitled 'China against the world' (I quickly hid it, along with the free tibet sticker!). After passing under the grand rainbow arch, the chinese town of Erlian immediately felt different from Mongolia (although it is in the area of inner mongolia) - neater, wealthier, the food had vegetables in..We easily procurred tickets for the night bus to beijing, discovering to our amazement that it was full of bunkbeds! and they give you a little red to put your shoes into. it's wonderful (though not good if you are tall1). I wonder if it would take off in england..

And, at 6am, were bundled out onto the streets of beijing, somewhere, somewhere in its vastness, ate a breakfast of speing onion pancakes and clambered into a taxi to Wudaokou. But the rest is for another time. Right now I can see people dancing in the dusk in the square outside my window, the crickets are chirping and I'm going to eat some watermelon from the stall around the corner.

Zaijian for now...

London - Beijing

47 days

14 trains

2 buses

1 russian van

and a mongolian horse