Is native to Mongolia

Because I came to Mongolia at the beginning of the tourist season, the only people around were a group of five Japanese girls, while the field was very quiet. I had a yurt or a yurt (Mongolian tent), all to myself! Great!

I went through the little hobbit style, painted the door, in a comfortable room, decorated in traditional style with wooden furniture painted. On both sides of the yurt (? Then have a round thing on the sides) had two beds box, the back was a hairdresser on one side a small closet, and in the middle next to a small table and stools, wood burn! This pleased me no end that I like to play with fire and I particularly like the charm of wood stoves, although I managed to set fire to my towel travel expensive fine the next day which was very boring. The fire was already roaring away merrily, and of course I could not resist adding more wood to hell. After a refreshing shower and some food, I sat in the yurt, wrapped in the warmth and listened to the breathing fire and crackling, it was very soothing. When I got out of the door to see the night sky, all was quiet, only a thin crescent moon of silver and a bright, brilliant starry sky.

At night the air was fresh and sweet with the scent of wet meadows and mountains, and I could see a small stream of smoke out of the swelling of wood fireplace, which put off the top of my yurt. There was no sound anywhere. It was still. Pacifica. I slipped back to the yurt, turn off the light and went to bed and then watching the flickering flames of woodburner their voices and the dancing shadows on the walls. I looked at the hole in the ceiling where the chimney passed away, I could see the moon shining on me and I felt incredibly lucky and very, very happy to be there.

The next morning was clear and bright with a bright blue sky, and the plan was for me and roll Zabloo to shepherd his family yurt, where I would spend the night and the best part of the next day. We were not sure what time it would be that he had to catch our horses at first, but at 10 am, there was a knock at the door and there he was, with a face the color tone and Conker polished texture, with a crazy looking pony with the evil glare in his eyes! In reality, it was surprisingly obedient (the pony I think) and we sat at a brisk trot through the grass. The Mongols seem unable to move their horses, it is either a trot or gallop (like they do in a standing position), and that’s it! I do not fear the gallop, trot, but is sitting and I can tell you it’s bloody uncomfortable without a bra and sports a backpack bouncing around your back. We pushed the horses to a gallop and soon Yurt was in sight.

We met a big, fat, cheerful woman called Tunga and shown to our yurt whose father, who had followed us to the modern equivalent of a horse – a small scooter. There were a total of four yurts – one of the guests, one of the men, one woman and one was a “neighbor’s neighbor.” I’ve been with the family was one of 700 ewes and goats, 70 horses, 30 cows, 2 Yak, some dogs and cats. Take unloaded our luggage, we yurt, we were invited to make the main yurt. Well, I must say, compared to this, I returned to camp yurt was a building! I wrote in my diary “It will be a miracle if you survive without food poisoning.” The floor of the yurt was only a few bits of mud from the side of the old beds and linen closets were.

The furniture consisted of two metal beds on either side of the door with a dirty carpet onto each of them and a small mountain of various old boots at a “kitchen” with pots and pans, bags of flour and plastic containers, an altar, different saddles, chair, plastic boxes, a goat hanging from the ceiling and large pieces of mutton hung to dry in the chain tight Yurt, adorned the walls were all kinds of promotional items – rope clamps, metal stirrups, blankets, bags, jars, lids and boxes of photographs.

We sat around the fire station and chatted with Zabloo then translate the language has made tea. Selection of drinks, the Mongols are made from whole milk (cow), green tea and salt, and they drink the gallon. Let me assure you, it was so dirty and disgusting as it sounds, and when I do not drink milk he was even more crowds and outrageous to me. I had a few sips to be polite, tried not to gag and put the bowl again. Following the offer were some crunchy sweet biscuits for dipping in tea and bread as a dotted Tunga stuff like cottage cheese, which also tasted very milky / creamy. She was stuffing his face with absolutely anything and slurping away at high tea.

After these delights, it was time to feed the goats, which was really sweet, until I realized that most of them were deformed or sick in any way which was why they needed to diet. Both had something wrong with his back hooves, then spent only three legs to move around while dragging the fourth, and a little goat looked very ill and had green shit hanging off your back. Tunga seemed not to notice all this, as it quickly filled milk bottles, took the mud, smelly goats and started to feed them. His shirt was soaked respository for milk, poop, mud, and God only knows what else. I fed a couple as they were really nice and I felt very sorry for them, but was careful not to touch a lot more if I had the goat’s foot and mouth or something. God thank you, I had remembered antiseptic hand washing! The only thing I could think of when you see it was, I hope to God she washes her hands before preparing lunch.

The sky was slightly overcast and it was very windy and namby pamby be a Westerner I was a little cold, so they found a Dell for me (the classic overcoat) and the frame to wear to keep warm. Time to prepare lunch!

I’m not sure she had washed his hands, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and got cracking with pellets preparation. Although Zabloo finely chopped a large plate of mutton to a board is not very clean cut, Tunga boil some water on the stove to wash the pots (hurrah!). I tell you, you never really liked to have access to an unlimited number of hot and cold running water and electricity, so you have to do without it. Life is hard without it! She made a paste with flour and water and then took the sheep, finely chopped, add some spices from a package, and some chopped onions, mixed together, taste the mixture raw herbs added a little, tasted again and said it is ready. Zabloo and then I rolled on small circles of dough, which we filled with meat and then transformed into mini Cornish Pasties (or at least that’s what they looked like). It was really fun, but I’m sure if I had to do every day, the novelty would quickly dissipate.

Another farmer appeared, his face looked like polished mahogany. He did not say much, just drank his tea and salt were a few rolls and then disappeared from the yurt. Two minutes later I heard the sound of a motorcycle trying to start, then Zabloo and I went out to see what happened, and she convinced him to let me have a go! It was only a small 125cc and once you have mounted the big bikes, trying to get something as small as practically impossible. I stepped on the grass, trying to avoid cow / goat / sheep / horse / dog poop and tried in vain to get the crap out of first gear. I do not think he was very impressed!

Tunga still seemed to be hungry, had found some old bones of sheep, and they started hacking away pieces of dried meat with a knife. It seemed a bit ‘surprised that I was not interested in trying a little’!

I had a little walk up the hill and back and then some more ‘reindeer herders began with a kid who was not connected to the inside of the yurt (it was so cute!) And so the second installment of salted tea was prepared noisily slurped up all of them. Then it was time to prepare dinner, which lasted all ages! We are really modern conveniences we take for granted. We really made the noodles! Back home, I would open the closet, take the package, put the contents of a frying pan and fry for 3 minutes, and bingo, there would be cooked spaghetti. Mongolia, mix the flour and water, make dough, knead it, roll out many of the great circles of dough, partially cook the metal plate on the hot fire (so they look like pita bread), develops slices with oil, stack them together and then very, very, very, very beautiful pieces are long and thin. The whole process took more than an hour! After that we had to cook a couple of potatoes, sheep meat and carrots and add the noodles.

It was very tasty, but talking a load of starch and carbohydrates!

After dinner, we had to help milk the cows were in the wilderness, but every night they wander back to be milked. Afraid I have to say I took a look at the process and it was a cowardly support fast he could say, “I’ma celebrity, get me out of here.” And anyway, did not want the risk of the cow’s foot and mouth in addition to the goat’s foot and mouth, probably called me in the morning. I’ll have a go at most things, but sitting on a stool with three legs in a field of manure, with the udder of a cow poop embedded was not really first in my list of ways to spend a night ! My Street Cred is sinking even lower in his eyes! As the cows wandering in a magnificent spectacle that happened – it was like the West now, dusk was fast approaching, and the moon was in the sky and I looked at the escarpment. hill, I suddenly saw a long, long points on the skyline.