Zagreb Vegan Scene: Green Point

You know why Ireland is so green? Because it is ALWAYS RAINING. That’s what we learned anyway on our trip through the Irish countryside, on our journey from Cork to Dublin. We spent most of this time exploring County Cork after flying into and enjoying the city of Cork, because the region is home to two of the very special places we had to see: Blarney Castle and Ballymaloe. Also, as Husbo says to everyone going to Ireland, you don’t go for the cities; you go for the countryside, the gorgeous, green-as-heck, rainy-to-make-it-all-so-green countryside. And if I can so enjoy myself when it’s so cold and rainy and my shoulders shoot up so high that I get bodybuilder neck (i.e. no neck) then it must be a special place. 

After leaving the city limits, Ireland was almost hilarious in how green it was. I felt like I was on set in a young adult novel from the 1800s. All dem rolling hills! There are tonnes of castles and forts of note to see in the vicinity, but there’s one at the top of every list: Blarney Castle. Drawing tourists by the busfull, Blarney Castle dates back to about 1200AD. It was destroyed and rebuilt in the 15th century but it still counts to say it’s from the 1200s. Over all this time, the castle was besieged and captured and attacked and regained and bewitched and bothered and bewildered and everything that castles should expect to experience, over and over, so now it’s mostly a ruin. But some parts of it are still accessible to tourists, including the thing everyone is coming to see – the Blarney Stone. 

The Blarney Stone, I’ve since learned, is part of a machicolation, which means it’s a floor opening in battlements through which shit like boiling oil  (yikes) or stones could be dropped down on attackers. But that’s a much darker context than we’ve all accepted. The acceptable history of the Stone is that this limestone block above the floor opening of a particularly high battlement will give those who kiss it the gift of eloquence. And that’s why strangers for centuries have shared germs on an old piece of rock. The real legend says that the 15th century rebuilder of the castle, Cormac McCarthy (fork I thought he looked old for the earth but I guess he’s aging remarkably well), was involved in a lawsuit and sought assistance from the goddess Cliodhna. (Pretty.) The goddess told the beloved author to kiss the first stone he saw on his way to court, and lo and behold he was supes eloquent and he won his case, and the Pulitzer Prize. The Stone was then built into the castle walls. 

Another story has to do with Robert the Bruce, apparently gifting the stone to Cormac for his help in a battle that occurred like way before the latter was born at a time when neither of them would have been alive so we’re going to table that one for now.

Obviously all the stories are a load of bullshirt; the real reason we share stranger germs on a stone is because it’s The Thing To Do. So we did it. And this is not just some stone you can walk by and kiss as you tour the castle. Remember I said before, it’s part of a floor opening in the battlements. The Blarney Stone is across the open bit from where you stand, and it’s not on the ground floor. So to kiss it, you sit down on the edge, an assistant holds your torso, and you lean backwards and down so you Spider-Man kiss it while like in a wheel pose. It is super awkward to get into the right position and understand what you’re supposed to do with your body. And it is VERY scary. I am not scared of  heights (not more than is necessary) but I was very shaky when I performed this yoga of the insane. 

I’m glad I did The Thing but damn if I ever want to relive that. 

To let you get your breath back afterwards, the castle features a beautiful garden on its grounds, perfect for strolling around in the rain. 

And to remind you of the crazy thing you just did beforehand, all the plants are deadly.

So fun! Don’t eat poison!

We carried on our way through County Cork (I love saying that like the cast of The Ferryman) to another so fun and so Irish Must Do Thing – a stay at Ballymaloe. ​

 Ballymaloe House is a hotel and restaurant, and nearby they have a cookery school (that’s how we say it in the Isles) and a grain store and the most incredible garden I’ve ever seen. Like every single vegetable you could want, they have growing out there. Meanwhile my windowsill basil died. Ballymaloe is a beloved historical treasure, which Myrtle and Ivan Allen opened in 1964 to show off to the world Irish Country cuisine and hospitality. It’s the best place to stay when you’re out in the countryside because it’s like The Place, historic and beloved. Our room was so sweet and cozy and it felt so appropriate to stay there while in Ireland.

Ballymaloe is renowned for its five-course dinners and its roster of high caliber chefs and cooking students, so dinner was pretty nice. When we went, they weren’t super used to vegan accommodations but said that they of course could feed me. They started me off with a vegetable soup that was lovely (as really any vegetable soup is) and a salad with pomegranates, so even if it ended here I would have been happy. 

There was also great bread (more on that later!) so like, reals happy. As for my main course, it was a nonexciting but nonthreatening rice pilaf with spinach and roasted squash and a cranberry chutney jawn that did not really go. It was fine (I’m fiiine), but I think going back now they would be able to whip up something much more exciting.

And I did get a good dessert! Oh first up I got a palate cleanser of fruit sorbet, which is fun. You don’t get that all that often.

My real dessert though was a chocolate carrageenan pudding! Carrageenan is a seaweed that is used as a thickener. For the pudding, an Irish classic as we were told, they cook the seaweed quickly and then let it soak until it exudes lots of jelly-like substance (fun! not gross!) and then you take the jelly and mix it with milk and sugar and stuff. Mine was chocolate yay and topped with strawberries and dark chocolate ribbons. 

Overall it wasn’t the most interesting meal, but considering it was an accommodation at an institution, I was fine with it. It’s the whole experience you go there for, not just the food. At dinner that night, Myrtle Allen was seated right next to our table. She has recently passed away, so it was really special to get to meet her.

I was so excited about the carrageenan pudding being a real thing that I bought little bags of carrageenan in the Ballymaloe gift shop! We also bought a signed copy of Myrtle Allen’s cookbook (which I included a picture of because I had one). The best part of the gift shop was obviously the best part of anything on earth: the shop doggie. I pet the doggie for a while, along with two children that I did not talk to.

We also made a visit to the cooking school a few kilometers away. The grounds are lovely but pretty vast, and it wasn’t so lovely when we had to retrace all of our many steps to find our lost keys! The gardens there and on the main Ballymaloe property are real goals. I almost snatched some of the chard because it’s hard to find in London but I didn’t.

My favorite thing we did at Ballymaloe was take a cooking class! They have a few on offer and we decided to do the bread making class because we love bread so g-d much. It was so much fun. We made a few loaves of Irish soda bread to be served at that day’s breakfast, so now I know how to make that up right good. I should make that today. The recipe they use wasn’t vegan though, so they also had us made a really great brown bread so that there was bread I could eat at breakfast too. It was a suuuuper liquidy bread batter and they had me mix it by hand so it was hilarious but also like I was wearing long sleeves. I guess that was my bad though. Anyway bread is great. I was sad that we weren’t making loaves for our own taking but we still had several days of travel left so I guess it’s okay. 

So our time in County Cork was loverly, a great opportunity to disconnect from our day-to-day and enjoy nature. And rain. If you’re going to Ireland, you’re going to Blarney Castle probably, and if so, you should pay Ballymaloe a visit. 

After our time in Ulaan Baatar, we were eager to get out in the countryside and desert, because everyone said the best part of Mongolia was outside the city. Not hard to believe! Our 7-day trip seemed to cover a good mix of the country, not just lake like some did, not just Gobi desert like most others did. I knew it would be roughing it, but I was okay with that, because I figured it’s still a tourist company and they’ll make sure we at least have our basic needs covered. Also, I went to overnight camp for 9 years, so I’m a champ at roughing it.

Turns out going to one of the most established Jewish overnight camps with a bunch of JAPs, pretty good plumbing, and private tennis instruction is not the same as ‘roughing it’.

We booked a weeklong tour with Sunpath, one of the most popular tour arrangers, run by a small Mongolian lady named Doljma whom we referred to as Grape Leaves for obvious reasons. Since our friend Sivani could no longer join us, it would just be the two of us unless Grape Leaves could find a solo traveler to take the third spot. We would have an English speaking guide and a driver, and would see a huge amount of the country. We were eager to have a week being super active – hiking, climbing, horseback riding, walking a lot. I was excited. I was naive. 

To cope, I wrote diary entries every day of the trip. These are their stories. 

A car picked us up at our hostel and drove us to the Sunpath hostel and office for checking in. The parking lot in the back of the hostel was overflowing with tourists, Mongolian drivers, those Soviet-style awful gray vans, and a bunch of Mongolian near-teenagers who were the English-speaking guides. Chaos abounded, with people just sitting on the ground awaiting instruction. After like 30 minutes of talking to the other tourists and hearing 80 different people say some version of “I think we just wait here?”, Doljma finally came outside and assigned guides and drivers to various vehicles and then moved in the correct tourists depending on the tour they booked. It took forever, and everything kept changing so I just gave up trying to follow the disorganization. I went inside the hostel to use the bathroom, and the state of that hostel should have alerted me to the state of the week to come. Confused-looking tourists were pouring out of it, shoes covered the entire hallway (I had to just step on shoes, there was no other floor), and there was one single tiny bathroom – toilet and shower and sink, all in there with no others – for everyone staying there to share. I was so happy that they hadn’t had room for us to stay here. I would have freaked out if every time I had to pee I had to wait for the shower line to finish. 

Finally, we got our driver and our guide and our car – luckily, we had the one black SUV in the lot full of Russian vans, so we were excited. Seatbelts! Airbags! Our guide introduced himself (to protect his identity I’ll call him…Guido, get it because guide) and was wearing a Temple University hat! I was like whaaat that’s where I’m from! He got it as a gift from a supervisor, he said. I thought it was a good sign. I guess I used to be an optimist. 

So, this is the point in the story where I warn you that if you want to turn back, if you don’t have the stomach for it, you should go now. No hard feelings. 

Otherwise, the rest of you are going to hear about my diarrhea. 

Of course my body decided early on that it hated Mongolia and figured, “hey, THIS is the right place to get a strong case of Travelers’” Yes, the time leading up to a week of camping and long car rides is EXACTLY the right time to go absolutely berserk, body, good job! Thanks for that! You’re not a total shitbag at all! Both figuratively and literally! 

I was nervous, but I was feeling relatively okay that morning and figured I could hold it together by sheer strength of will. I’ve been doing without television for a month now; I could use that same mentality to CONTROL MY INSIDES, RIGHT? No you idiot you can’t. Luckily for the few hours outside the city, we saw enough gas stations with outhouses that I was okay. But they quickly became, like, REAL country living outhouses, like not actually worthy of a title using the word ‘house’. These were delicately balanced planks of wood, with doors that didn’t close. Soon, at another gas station, I used my first toilet hole with no door. It faced away from the road, thankfully, and faced into an endless field…of goats. My insides exploded while approximately 150 goats stared and bahhed at me. Do goats bah? I can’t even remember the sound a goat makes. I think those moments, when I was sick while making eye contact with a wild goat, will prove pivotal in my life. 

After maybe four or five hours of driving and a line of toilet pits ever decreasing in safety and cleanliness, we stopped for lunch. I was actually hungry – I hadn’t eaten and my body was apparently shedding itself from the inside out since it had no food to shed – and eager to stop for a decent amount of time. 

The restaurant Guido had planned to go to was closed. For Naadam, probably. His failure to check in advance that a place we just drove five hours to would be open for us was the first sign that he was a total diddadoof. 

He decided we would eat at a khuushuur shack on the same bit of expanse, and asked if I had snacks since he knew I didn’t eat meat. Great first showing at what kind of guide you’ll be! I had a bag of really weird breadsticks we found in UB that somehow tasted like the fried noodle things that American Chinese restaurants will put on your table before you order. I ate some of those. It wasn’t a smart move. I used the nearby toilet shack hell hole while holding the door closed with one hand and trying to get my toilet paper out of my purse with the other hand. A small girl peed outside the crack in the door while I was in there. 

You’d think maybe the worst was over, at least for the day, but you would be wrong. The horrible feeling of my entire body was no match for the aural onslaught the driver caused with his horrible music. He listened to CDs of I THINK songs written to help people learn English, like ESL music edition. The lyrics were very simple sentences, the musical equivalent of See Spot Run or donde esta la biblioteca, and Guido and driver were alllll about them, singing along kind of proud that they knew the words. It was kind of nice to see that, but the music was still bad. It got worse – they started playing famous songs that I knew the words to like Abba’s greatest hits, Hotel California, and an impressively annoying song called Hands Up that I remember playing at my brother’s Bar Mitzvah. The kind of songs that you suffer through without too much actual suffering because they’ll be over soon, but knowing the words makes it worse. But Driver played each CD three times in a row. I was screaming inside. Every time Hotel California came on (6 times that ride), they would both sing along with slightly incorrect words and looked like they were having the goddamn time of their lives. I was full on batty by the end, singing along to Abba’s ‘Mamma Mia’ with the obvious lyrics change – “Diarrhea! Here we go again!”

Soon, I really had to find a toilet hell hole and asked Guido if we could stop as soon as we see one just like in the next hour. Not an unreasonable request right? We were still sort of near stuff. His response was “Or we can find somewhere for you to hide?” No dude we are in the open hilly countryside we haven’t seen a tree in a week let alone bush enough to hide in.

The super long day of driving finally ended at Karakorum, the ancient capital of Mongolia that is now just ancient city walls enclosing a monastery and some dry grass.  It was cool to see, considering the history, but I could not enjoy it when I felt so awful. And we’ve seen so many darn temples. 

Luckily, our ger camp for the night was just a few minutes away. Gers are the Mongolian version of yurts, round tent-like structures with beds around the sides and poles in the middle holding everything up. Usually there is a stove in the center and a chimney pipe, for heat. This first ger camp is actually nice – there are showers, sinks, and wifi in the main house, where the kitchen was. After the kitchen staff made me an omelet for dinner (no thanks), they then cooked my cabbage which Guido had already given them so like what were they gonna do with it, keep it for themselves? It’s my cabbage! Along with way too much white rice (but I guess that was good for me to have in my condition), it was a decent dinner. 

There were lots of other travelers, and one told me it was her ninth night out in the country. She said this was the nicest ger camp yet, and I agreed without too much thought – it has wifi! I don’t expect that at the others! But I didn’t guess just how different the rest would be. 

DAY 2
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We drove the few minutes to the Karakorum museum, which is a UNESCO site (or the whole thing is) and had a few cool things, like a heavy passport thing like Marco Polo would have used, and so much information about Chinggis Khan and various Mongolian tribes. It was short and we followed another group’s English speaking guide around, so it was my kind of museum. And they had a decent toilet, which I used many times. We drove a few hours to another deserted and desert-looking monastery (COOL THESE AREN’T GETTING SUPER BORING) before we met a Russian van on the side of a random road. We were picking up our third group member to take Sivani’s place. Can you even believe, the door opened and out came the Chilean from the Ulan Ude to Ulaan Baatar train! The one who was sleeping on my bed when I came in but turned out to be nice! So that is super lucky, at least he’s friendly and we know him and despite his saying he came from the Gobi and hadn’t showered in five days, he didn’t smell that bad. And he wears tank tops everyday so that really is something. Everyone in tank tops smells bad! What’s his secret?

Next stop was the incredibly important sacred monument called THE PENIS STONE. Not kidding, the sign even said that in English. People were praying to it, for fertility. I can’t make this shit up. 

We then drove another hour or five to lunch, to this restaurant where we were the only people and it took an hour to make food. Why did we come so far for this particular place? I was given rice and potatoes and carrots and a few pieces of pickle. I literally count zero of that as vegetable. Then, after lunch, we drove for more than four hours to a waterfall. When I say drove, I’m using the word loosely. Now that we were well into the outback, the roads disappeared. We were maneuvering the car over legit rocks, hills, mud, and PONDS. Remember the Olkhon Island minibus drive? Those roads were better than these. These were not roads. This was just off-roading on rocky untouched landscape, going down one way and finding it was unpassable and having to backtrack and forge another path. Holy crap, I’m sure some of you (SIVANI) think this sounds fun, but imagine it for 8 hours daily. I have never been tossed around a car so much for so long. Wanna hear the funniest thing? This whole region we are driving through is called Orkhon Valley. Literally one letter off from the previous hellscape. Is there an Onkhon or an Odkhon located somewhere because if so make sure I don’t go there. 

Guido kept saying we’re almost there, we’re almost there. We were never almost there. In fact, we didn’t arrive there at all. We arrived first at the shittiest ger camp I could have imagined in my nightmares. It’s not even that there was no bathroom. It’s that there was just one hole in the ground outhouse except it was tarp on the sides with no roof. What happens if it’s raining. And this one hole was for a camp of like 10 gers, with 4-8 people in each. That’s a lot of people. The tarped up hole was swarming with more flies than I’ve ever seen in my life. The hellhole was far from our ger and in the worst condition I’ve seen yet. There were no showers and, worse, no sinks. I was supposed to wash my hands to take my contacts out…how? Oh with bottled water, precious bottled water. 

I couldn’t handle all that at once so I focused on the fact that we didn’t actually go to the sight we were supposed to see. I found Guido and was like wait I thought we were going to a waterfall. Guido said well first we can try mare’s milk and relax in the ger and ride horses. Um. F that. I said dude no let’s do the only f-ing thing we were supposed to do today! But after we unloaded I couldn’t find him. At 6:30 pm, we were still supposed to be seeing the waterfall before dinner but he was supposed to be making dinner himself (from now on he is our cook). But he is hanging with his friend in another yurt. This is my nightmare. There are ants all over my bag. Hell there are ants all over me. I care more about my stuff though. Fing hell. It’s so hot I can’t keep my eyes open. My skin burning from close-feeling sun. And the dust is what they foretold in Interstellar, the Casey Affleck dust lung disease. Tube snot is nothing, Londoners. Since arriving in Mongolia I’ve had black soot and blood coming out my nose all day and night. It’s so dry. Tomorrow Guido said the drive to the hot springs is 300 kilometers. 300. It took all day to go 70 on these roads. He said the roads tomorrow will be better, but that’s not exactly hard to achieve. Anything is moving in the right direction; it’s just a matter of how much of a change we’re talking about. I think I’m gonna spend all of the fall in NYC to make up for this. 

The waterfall, called the Ulaan Tsutgalan, was pretty at least, with a rocky as hell path to get down to the water’s edge that I didn’t bother trying because I didn’t have the mindset of dealing with that after this day. I put my feet in the top section though. Hope I don’t contract more disease. Maybe they will fight each other and cancel out. 

Dinner was another plate of rice with some of my canned beans and canned vegetables. It was fine. Guido knows how to work a camping stove (secret: onions and garlic). At least they are able to feed me. They used the rest of that canned stuff and mixed it with mutton for the boys. They are already sick of mutton. I saw that Guido had some of his raw meat stored in an old 2 liter water bottle. Have fun joining me tomorrow, boys. 

At night, when I had to pee my usual every-90-minutes, it was so dark and I was so broken. It was so far to our shitshack that I just peed right outside the ger, out in the open. I’m sorry to the two cows who were watching. But I don’t care anymore. You hear that? I DON’T CARE ANYMORE. 

Tonight marks the first night in years that I didn’t floss. 

DAY 3

Well maybe I care a little. 

We left at 9am to get to the Tsenkher hot springs by afternoon. Remember how Guido promised that the roads would be better? LOLLL. They were the same, except this time there were more little ponds and lakes to ford! Is it bad to ford in a Toyota? Thank goodness my stomach has decided to stay in one piece since yesterday morning, so praise to the Mongolian god of intestinal tracts for at least removing that challenge from this experience. 

But the drive was insane horrible. And so flipping long. So far, it’s just like 8 hours of driving per day. We thought we were going to be physically active this week, HA. We are sitting in the car all day just to get to some crap camp, then waking up to get back in the car for the same. The drive is just constant tumbling over rocks and plowing through water. I was so upset but you know it’s bad when Z is also upset about it and talking about scrapping the next four days and just going back to UB. It’s a tempting thought but I don’t know if two more days of driving to get back to city and missing anything worthwhile along the way is worth it. Also we’d have to find lodging and we’d lose money so we are stuck. 

For the past two days, driver has been listening to a CD of Russian pop songs, which we liked at first but the 7th go round was absolute torture. I know all the words now and can’t get them out of my head! So I put my headphones in and blasted some angsty Tori Amos. Of course after a listen to The Great Comet’s best song, “Dust and Ashes”, singing my version: “Is this how I die…carsick and filthy, wanting salad . Is this how I die…nauseous and dehydrated, sick with poo.” If you knew the song you’d laugh because I barely changed what the real lyrics sound like. Ugh my shoes smell so bad! But I must say testing various hiking shoes was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Last time I did a big active hiking trip I borrowed a friend’s boots. NEVER DO THAT! They didn’t have room for my bunions and I lost a toenail. Having proper shoes is so important. It’s a miracle my feet my poor poor feet are still functioning after all these miles. And precarious outhouse perching. 

Anyway after an hour and half of being thrown from one side of the car to the other, I had to pee. I asked if we could keep a look out for a toilet. Toilet now means hole outhouse, of course Bathroom now does have is own definition. Oh how I miss a bathroom. Anyway there was nothing for miles and Guido said there wouldn’t be and he was right so they brought me to an abandoned dilapidated deserted and dying wooden building and I trekked through the unmown weeds and peed behind it. Just behind some decaying old shack. Oh how far I’ve fallen.

Two more hours of dehydration, nausea, and back pain (two vertebrae are extremely bruised from being tossed and thrown into the seat repeatedly it’s not fun) and I had to pee again. Guido said what about hiding in those trees? They were seedlings. The thinnest shortest little plants passing for trees you’ve ever seen literally the width of my finger and he wants me to “hide” behind it? LOLLL. I was like I’m not sure they can actually hide me but ummm and delayed the ms until we passed into a clearing with lots of ger camps that I was SURE would have an outhouse! They had to! Where were all those people going? Oh right in the open like I do now. The first thing we found was…I can’t even talk about it. Omg. Wait getting a cookie first. Ok it was a hole in the ground surrounded by a two foot high piece of fabric attached at a few two foot poles. On three sides. So it was pretty much peeing inside an outstretched hand towel. For all the world to see. The wooden planks to stand on were thin branches that creaked and moved. It was probably the worst ever. Worse than just being out in the open. So gross. 
So, I am sure some people are like ‘but how wonderful is it to see another culture and how they live!’ And I’m sure people are thinking I’m being rude to them and disrespectful of their way of life. Maybe I am. But I am unwavering in my belief that would be better for most Mongol people and for the public health if their toilets were cleaner or existed at all and if hygiene was promoted and oh yeah sewage disposed of more appropriately. And it would be better for the people if roads were paved, and people’s cars didn’t break down or pop tires when they tried to drive to the next village. So many cars we saw were a mess or more often were stuck in the rock piles passing for roads. It’s treacherous. They have to pay for repairs and they lose time, which is usually losing money. A road, just one paved road in this valley, would boost tourism and save time so people actually want to be there and see things. It’s a mess and I’m not afraid to say that out of some way-too-common liberal traveler tendency to over-extol the virtues of every shithole they go to. It’s a real common annoying problem, ignorant in the other direction, for travelers to rain praise on a place for no reason other than that they’ve been there and think that exaggeratingly exalting the exotic makes them seem worldly. It just makes you a jerk. I’m being a jerk too but at least I’m honest. 

Anyway, so we are driving all f-ing day on these terrible rocks and mudslides and lakes, and we finally stop at an area with a lot of cars and tourists on some hill. This was about the time Guido said we should have arrived at the hot springs camp. A man came over and driver and he yell at each other for a while before we left and kept driving for like 30 mins. That’s when I said “Oh hey I thought we were almost there?” And he said yes but we have to go to a different camp with different hot springs because a Russian couple took our ger. We freaked out and were like first of all you weren’t going to tell us? And second are we not going where we signed up to go? He said no it’s the same place we were heading to the wrong camp. I mean jfc, is it that someone took our place or that you were going in the wrong direction? He said it was just the wrong direction and denied saying anything about another couple. Okay, so you guys don’t know where you’re going?? So who knows if we are in the right springs but whatever. We got here and we don’t have to get in the car until tomorrow. I can drink all the water (though we don’t have much left ugh) and eat food and best of all SHOWER! There’s a shower using hot spring water and it smells like eggs because it is, indeed, hot spring water but I don’t care I’m cleeeeean now. And that same building with the shower has three REAL toilets and SINKS! SINKS!!!! I wish we could stay here every night but I know tomorrow is back to a shithole shack. For now though, I’m clean and I got my bathing suit on and I’m gonna go springing. Then I’m gonna shower AGAIN and wash my disgusting hair! And then in the morning I’m gonna shower again! 

(I forgot to take pictures of the hot springs)

Guido made us lunch at 3pm of vegetable soup with potatoes and carrots and noodles. And seaweed. At least I’m getting iodine. 

The hot springs were indeed incredibly hot but so enjoyable. They are just little jacuzzi-looking jawns just behind the bathroom building – which is, I am sad to report, a full 250 paces from our ger. I count every time. The first night was about 80, the second (awful) one was about 150. This is 250!! That is too far for middle of the night peeing! I guess that means we’re going right outside the door again. 

It started raining, really heavily raining, that night, and the top part of our ger was open. Guido and a guide friend had to climb up on top of the ger to secure a tarp. Guido popped his head in and asked Z if he had any rope for tying it down. No we don’t have rope. 

Dinner was finally my tofu cutlets that we found at a grocery store when we all went food shopping a few days ago to stock up on everything! They were good! With more potatoes and carrots, of course. And bread. Guido likes to give each of us at least like 8 slices of bread throughout the day. It’s ridiculous.

After dinner in a bit of silence, Z looked up at me and said “Why would I have any rope?” We died. 

That night the people in the next ger were SO loud until about 3am, and they were outside talking (even though it was raining, beach umbrella sort of thing) so I had to keep trekking to the bathroom, back and forth, back and forth. If I wore one of those dumb watches I’d have hit my steps just from peeing. 

DAY 4

After not much sleep but lots and lots of 250-step walks in the pouring rain (I pretty much just kept my anorak and boots on all night), I took my fourth shower in this place (one at arrival, a rinse after the hot springs, a full evening shower where I washed my hair, and the morning one. All smelled strongly of eggs, and I fear I will forever as well), ate a lot of peanut butter (we bought a jar the first day in the grocery store that I am on schedule to completely finish) and left for another day of driving. All day driving, this time to Great White Lake and Khorgo Crater. We would literally be driving all day, yet again, on crappy roads. Our lofty goals of this week being even more physically active than our city touring have proved laughable. 

But this time was different because it started to storm! We had to drive these rocky hills in a freaking thunderstorm. Luckily we made it to the city of Tsetserleg and stocked up on the rest of the week’s food necessities. The produce section had 3 heads of sad cabbage and a box of kiwis. The parking lot of the market was the most chaotic mess of law-ignoring drivers and bikers going wherever they wanted, plus a whole string of cars with their trunks open and set up for BUTCHERY. There were 30 or so cars in a row with trunks all covered in dead bodies and blood, which I saw too much of before realizing what it was and looking away. And people were lining up to buy from them! That’s where they get their meat, instead of inside the shop! Sea Bass and Z were like…jfc is that where Guido is getting our meat???!!! #govegan

We stopped soon at another giant but empty restaurant for lunch where they take literally an hour to fry noodles. Why do we keep coming to these whack places?? We should go where other people actually eat! I wanna go where the people are! Also how do these giant places not have toilets? Every time, they point me to a toilet hole around the block. Get your shit together. 

After lunch, my god, it was actually a paved road to White Lake! Cannot believe! 

My kidneys actually hurt from holding my pee for weeks now, it seems. On the way, we stopped at a camp so I could pee in a hole where the planks were literally covered with caked human feces, at least six months worth of buildup. And this was in a ger camp. I hope ours would be better that night. 

Haha the paved roads didn’t last very long. In fact, the roads got so bad that we had to get out of the car and walk up a mountain while the driver went crazy trying to get up this. 

Finally, we got to our next camp. It was a beautiful location, right on the lake, so that was lucky. But it was yet again a shitty place with one far toilet hole, no sink, just one hole for everyone in the 10 or so gers to share. That’s a lot of people in one shithouse. 

The only difference was, we would stay here for two nights. Cool. Cool cool cool cool. 

The boys swam while I went in the lake up to my knees. It sucks to not fully participate but if I am not able to shower again for four more days there’s no way I’m putting on a still-wet bathing suit and going into a dirty lake and then just being gross for four days. I am not voluntarily adding ‘yeast infection’ to my list of troubles. 

Guido is talking about his crush and when he first saw her and it is SO cute. I almost forgive him for being a diddadoof after this conversation. In what is probably my favorite translated phrase mix-up in the history of language, he said he saw her from across the room “and then I crushed it.” I almost threw up from trying not to laugh. I’m sure he heard the phrase ‘crushed it’ in recent slang but also knew the word ‘crush’ in the romantic context and just cleverly but incorrectly assumed they were related and that to crush it was the verb form like instead of ‘to develop a crush’. I’m obsessed. 

He also is in the lake screaming about how he can’t see without his ‘googles’ and I am cackling at that too. Both things are too cute to correct.

There was another storm tonight, this one absolutely insane. The shithole is 140 steps from our ger, which isn’t as bad as others but it’s up a steep hill. And in this storm? Nah I peed outside the door again and still got soaked. Also, we had to fish out our mosquito-net head covers to sleep with, because the gers are swarming with mosquitoes. So fun. 

DAY 5

Since it was still raining, and since we didn’t have to drive to our next awful camp, we had a lazy rainy morning. I tried to reread Walden for the first time in like 15 years, to try to relate to my surroundings more, but it just made me angry. 

Guido brought us breakfast (fruit! canned but still! and 5 pieces of bread.) at 10am, and when he came to collect our plates (oh, after that first night’s dinner in a kitchen, all of our meals have just been on our beds. I hate nothing more than food in the bedroom soooo), he said lunch would be at 1pm. JFC we were like no that’s not necessary! Can we just go on the hike to the Khorgo Crater finally? But he does not do well with plans changing and begrudgingly pushed lunch back to 1:30pm. Lunch was actually good, rice of course and a succotash type thing, but like give us time to actually work up an appetite dude!

Finally we went on the hike up the crater, which was the best thing about the whole week. I hate sitting in a car, so sitting in a car for eight hours every day without doing any physical activity has been hell. Doing a decently challenging hike feels amazing. There were some scary bits around the lip of the crater at the top where we had to scramble but it was great. 

I actually enjoyed myself for the first time in days. 

The only super awful annoying thing was that a group of white men (the hippie dirty traveler type) were sitting on the lip of the crater and making paper airplanes and throwing them into the crater. Like, littering on one of the country’s most important sites. I don’t like this country but I’m not going to contribute to making it worse! Guido went up to them and asked them to please stop as this was a state monument. Repeat, a Mongolian citizen went up to a group of white tourists and asked them to stop littering in his country, please. The white douchehats replied, “it’s just like trees, man, it’s fine.” God grant me the confidence of mediocre white men, amiright? What a bag o’dicks. I said to Guido loud enough that the men knew I was talking to them, “god, white men really think they can do whatever the f they want anywhere in the world, huh?” I like to think that got to them but we know it didn’t. F-ing white men. 

Back at the camp, we had more vegetable soup (mostly noodles oof) and saw to our delight that our Dutch friends from the long train journey in Siberia were now in the ger behind us! How crazy is that! The Mongolian traveler scene is pretty small, I guess! It was like pure joy to see familiar and kind faces. 

Ugh my belly hurts so much. I can’t use the bathroom with all these people watching the path to the latrine pit from the chairs and tables they have set up outside their ger. And Guido and the other guides literally just set up an archery target 5 feet from the toilet hole. I mean. WTF. Now not only do I have to deal with every watching me try to make it up that hill, but I have to also dodge arrows from these idiotic other travelers and the group of 20 guys just standing around watching. Ughhh. 

However, my unwillingness to trek to the outhouse 5x during the night paid off in one way, because when I was outside the door peeing at 12:30am, I looked up and saw the universe. I’m not kidding. Guys, I didn’t know there were that many stars. I’ve seen the usual suspects, but this night looked like a planetarium. I woke Z up and we both just stood there like, holy shit, is this what is out there? The sky was like a dome that was COVERED with billions and billions of lights that we could actually see. We clearly saw the Milky Way galaxy. If you had told me before that the Milky Way would be visible, I would have said ‘but how do you know which thingy it is?’ There was no questioning it here though – you could clearly see the swoosh plain as day. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I really didn’t know that the naked eye and just plain open sky could lead to such a sight. I did not know there were that many stars. IN THEIR MULTITUUUUDE. 

It almost makes this whole week worth it.

DAY 6

Today is another 8 hour drive to the Semi-Gobi, a section of desert that looks more like what we imagine the Gobi to look like (sand dunes) than the actual Gobi does (it’s only 3% desert-y!). Guido and driver sang along to the worst music you could imagine. Sea Bass, trying to get them to turn it down, asked Guido what his favorite song was. Guido answered, I shit you not, with the following:
Guido: “My favorite song? Cash me outside.” 
Sea Bass: “I don’t know that, how does it go?”
Guido: “Mm, mm, cash me outside” — JUST SPOKEN

Again, nausea from trying not to laugh-cry. 

But jesus christ, things got really unfunny soon. After four hours of driving (it was almost 1:30pm and we still hadn’t stopped for lunch), Guido and driver started yelling a lot in Mongolian and were yelling on the phone a lot to someone who I soon realized was Grape Leaves. Turns out, Doljma booked Sea Bass, who was leaving us to return to UB today, a bus ticket back at 2pm. A bus ticket. He had NO idea he was getting on a bus at 2pm, and Guido and driver had no idea that the bus was even at 2pm UNTIL IT WAS 1:30PM. Doljma just hadn’t told them the details, and NO one told Sea Bass. We were livid on his behalf but also – what kind of professional company operates like this? Driver started speeding beyond all belief because we had to go an hour’s distance in less than 30 minutes. It was so dangerous, and to know that the owner of the company who we paid a lot of money to kept calling and yelling at them to drive faster made me want to sue the pants off her if this country had laws. I was furious. And this is why I implore those of you going to Mongolia ever (why) to never use Sunpath. 

After Sea Bass was pushed onto a five-hour bus that he didn’t sign up for, we told Guido that it was unacceptable to do that to him and to us, considering how dangerous it was to speed like that. It’s okay, he said. Um, no, we are telling you it’s not okay. The language barrier here really posed a problem. It’s a shame that they clearly cannot talk back to or disagree with their employer, because she is super wrong here. 

For the first time in a week, at lunch we were given a menu to choose from instead of being brought whatever the restaurant made for us. I was so excited when I saw fresh vegetable salad on the menu. Obviously I ordered it. And – obviously guess what it was! CUCUMBER AND TOMATO YOU GUESSED IT! I didn’t even care. 

We finally got to the Semi Gobi, and I was super conflicted. I thought I’d be okay with riding a camel (as was planned for us) because I’ve done it several times before, but this time just felt unnatural. Before, in Jordan and Israel, at least, it was like, oh we have to get around by camel, that’s what is done here. But here, it was just completely for tourists to take rides around the dunes. I felt too weird to say anything, so we took the ride (and made it half the usual length to at least do a little less damage, I hope), but I felt so bad for these poor camels. I just wonder when was the last time they got water. I wonder how well these tour operator people treat them. It sucks. 
The Semi Gobi at least was cool to see, with its typical landscapes that you’d expect of the Gobi in full. 

We finally got to OUR LAST GER CAMP! It was so exciting…until I realized it was one of the bad ones. Ughhh. So we arrived, and we figured out from observing that, they didn’t actually have a ger for us? A big tour group was coming that they wanted to keep together, and since we were only 2, they didn’t want to use a big ger on us. So…we were put in the owners’ ger. Like the people who live there yearround. They took their stuff off their beds (that they’ve been sleeping in forever…not that ANY of the bedsheets and blankets were cleaned in any of the camps but at least now we are really seeing that they definitely were not changed (we always slept in our sleeping bag liners, thank god for them) and it was so weird. You might be thinking that being in the owners’ ger means it’s a bit nicer than the others, don’t you. It doesn’t mean that. It means it smells like poop and people and the owners keep coming in every 20 minutes for a possession they need, be it toothbrush or clothes or cups and dishes. An old lady just grabbed her toothbrush from a rope in the ceiling and started brushing in here. 

The toilet is 120 steps away, so it’s closer than others have been (eyeroll) but there is NO FLOOR. Between the walls, it’s just open pit and two planks to balance on precariously. Usually it’s the two planks, yes, but usually there is some other semblance of flooring near the walls. This was just all open. And the door doesn’t shut, so you have to hold the edge with one hand the whole time. 

We went on a hike to get away from it all. The landscape nearby was nice, more deserty obviously being in the Semi Gobi. 

When we came back from the hike, we found this in our ger:

UM HELLO RANDOM MONGOLIAN CHILD. 

Just someone’s child, fast asleep. We wouldn’t wake him, so we just hung out and read and stuff. 

A little later, the old lady came in to grab a pot and didn’t mention the boy. 

About an hour or two later, Guido came in and we said, “Hey, um, do you know who this is, what he’s doing here?” He laughed and said, “Haha, I think that he is someone’s kid,” and left. YOU DON’T SAY, GLINDA. (Opening number of Wicked: “After all, she had a father! She had a mother! As so many do.”)

This is really hysterical but it’s getting late and we cannot go to sleep with a random child in here. So inappropriate! This is such a mess. Oh and I realized why it smells like poop. That huge overflowing box of wood in the middle of the room, for making a fire in the central stove? Not wood. It’s dung. 

The only good part was this HILARIOUS little girl running around the whole time and making the cutest faces. ​

The gers at this camp were super close together. I didn’t care. I peed outisde all night. I am an animal now. 

DAY 7

All Day 7 is is the drive back to UB! HUZZAH! We successfully got them to leave at 8am instead of 9am (I’M A CELEBRITY GET ME OUT OF HERE!) but even though we arrived in city at like 11:30am, it was the hardest thing yet to convince Guido that we didn’t want to stop for a ridiculously unnecessary and long lunch. They were so concerned that we wanted to deviate from the plan (just go to lunch after you drop us off!) that they got Grape Leaves on the phone because, of course, turns out SHE is the one who hates any deviating from the plan. It was so ridiculous. We had to tell her on the phone that we just wanted to get to our hotel. JFC it’s like she never wanted us to be FREE OF THIS WEEK. I just want to get to the incredibly fancy hotel we booked tonight to treat ourselves after this week and before our next sleeper train tomorrow (to China!). I was so excited to SHOWER! And eat SALAD! And pee indoors tonight in a real toilet! 

Finally, FINALLY, we got out of that car for the last time! Oh my god the joy! The joy would continue beyond belief, because we walked into the Kempinski hotel, and it was the fanciest, most incredible hotel I’ve ever seen. 

It’s where George W. Bush, renowned painter, stayed when he came to UB, so I should have guessed it would be super fancy. But I guess I forgot what clean and nice could be, so I was flipping out. But really it was nicer than I think any hotel I’ve ever seen. Just the nicest in every way. I immediately put on my gym clothes and checked out the 24-hour gym. Guys, it was the nicest gym I’ve ever seen too. 

Every machine had a towel and water bottle on it! There was so much equipment and still so much floor space! They were playing instructional videos from bodybuilding websites on a big tv! THERE WERE TWO SAUNA ROOMS! I wish my gym in London was as nice as this! 

Best of all…I’m so excited to tell you…what’s better than going from peeing in latrine pits in the woods to using a real toilet? 

PEEING IN A JAPANESE ROBOT TOILET! The best toilet in the entire world! I haven’t seen one of this beauts since Thailand. If you aren’t familiar, well, I’m sorry. They are the greatest invention since I don’t know the wheel. They have buttons that clean errthang, and at different water speeds and pressures and temperatures, plus buttons that play music for ‘modesty’, plus all the regular bidet functions, and buttons that I don’t even know what will happen if you push them, like when Jules hit the ‘no’ button on hers on “Cougar Town” (rip). It was like the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of the past week, as opposite as we could get. I wish we could stay in this hotel for longer but that would require staying in UB for longer and nah. (Also wayyy out of budget.)

After we both took the longest showers known to man (the bathroom had both a separate shower cubicle AND a shower in the giant tub. I can’tttt), we went to Loving Hut and got some of the food I shared in the previous post. It was the best day. Even if we didn’t stay in the nicest hotel and find a place with salads and smoothies, it would still have been a great day because WE WERE DONE. 

EPILOGUE

This past week was truly insane. I don’t know if I’m glad I went through it or not. I can say for sure it changed me though — I went from wishing to find bathrooms on long car rides to wishing to find a toilet to wishing that the hole in ground had a door to wishing that just not too many people could see my bare butt from the road. I have come so far. What an absolutely ridiculous experience. Humans invented stuff for a reason, Mongolia. Wash your hands. 

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*This marks the last post on this Trans Mongolian Adventure page of the Travel section! On to China!