Mongolia is one of those funny sounding places that you would never really dream of going too. And, after all, why would you want too? The country lies slap bang in the middle of nowhere and is sodding miles from anything that could actually be considered important. Add to this the capital city of Ulaan-Baatar, which has earned the unispiring nickname of 'ugly-baatar' and it becomes obvious why this is not many people's number one tourist destination.
But for all of these reasons it was a place where I was itching to go. The fact that it was off the beaten track made the place appeal to me much more, and the sense of adventure was overwhelming. This was a journey into the unknown, a trip that would take me away from the tourists hoardes to somewhere different and exciting.
Only 3,000 Brits a year come to Mongolia so I felt ridicliously privileged when I strutted into the country. I board a train at the border town of Sukhbaatar and start to head north. It quickly becomes clear that this is a pretty empty place. As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but sand and grass and it presents itself with an eeriness that is hard to describe. The thing is, although there is nothing to look at, there is still everything to look at. The void is the attraction of Mongolia. Imagine a landscape which is completely devoid of anything. There are no twenty-first century intrusions, no ugly eyesores. Just a 360 view of absolutely sod all. And it is beautiful, completely haunting. I find myself drifting off as I stare out at the horizon through the sea of complete emptiness.
The train eventually enters the Gobi Desert and the blanket of grass turns to a blanket of sand. It is equally stunning, with the feeling of isolation being one to behold. It was a shock to realise that our hectic, vibrant society can be escaped so rapidly. Was I really on the same planet as our chaotic towns and cities? It just didn't seem possible. Mongolia really is like entering another world.
Eventually we reach the town of Choir, which is basically just a collection of tin shacks. I can't really imagine what life would be like here, so far removed from everything we take for granted. The train continues north and as night approaches we are treated to a stunning sunset over the desert. With nothing to intrude our view the sun is left with the entire sky as its canvas. It makes use of every last bit, spreading colour and light in every direction in a beautifully magical display.
The next stop is Ulaan-Baatar, the urban island in the middle of the ocean of nothing. About a million people live here, around a third of the total population. You can sense it approaching from miles off, the sight of smog on the horizon the give-away that something big looms admist the emptiness. And on arrival, you can see why it earned it's ugly-baatar monkier. The city is a communist inspired, concrete mess, but for me that gave it an odd type of charm. It wasn't the most attractive of places, but this certainly made it interesting. The lack of tourists also meant that this was a genuine travel experience. I was seeing somewhere how it should be, a far cry from South East Asia which has been ruined by the overwhelming numbers of visitors.
Sukhbaatar Square is the city's focal point and is home to parliament, as well as a statue of Ghengis Khan. They really milk that fella in these parts. During my stay I had a Ghengis Beer in the Ghengis Pub on Ghengis Street. A statue of someone in the square was being pulled down to make way for yep....a statue of Ghengis. I suppose everyone needs a hero.
I was in town during the Naadam Festival, which is a big deal in these parts. Events include Horse Racing, Archery and Wrestling and the event was the equivalant of our FA Cup final. Taking in some wrestling was a unique experience. There are no weight divisions so the biggest bloke usually wins. It seemed a bit unfair but it was a pleasure to imberse myself in a bit of the country's culture.
The food also deserves a mention. Mongolian barbeques were numerous in number around the city, and you could frequently pick up a cheap piece of steak or kebab. These were ridicliously tasty and went well down a treat with the local beers, Khan Brau being a particular favourite.
On my last night, I went for a stroll up a large hill and watched the sunset again. On one side of me sat Ulaan-Baatar, on the other, absoultely nothing. This seemed like such a peaceful existance, out in the middle of nowhere, away from crime, terrorism and all the other problems this world faces. It seemed such a shame that soon, I would have to return to them.
