Mercedes and I arrived back in UB early yesterday morning after a beautiful eight day tour through parts of central and northern Mongolia. The countryside we drove through was absolutely spectacular. The lakes we visited were stunning. But really, the most exciting story of the tour was the journey home.
We were told it would be a 22h bus ride back from the provincial capital of Moron to the national capital of UB. These cities are 650km apart. It is an indication of the state of Mongolia's roads (well "roads" - they are more like pot-hole filled trails through grass most of the time) that this didn't completely surprise us.
The good news is that the journey actually only took us 15 hours. However, both of us agree - this was still the most painful journey of our lives. And we have pretty low standards.
Because of a local Naadam festival in Moron, the buses to UB were sold out when someone attempted to purchase us tickets a few days in advance. Instead of a bus we journeyed back in a van. This actually sounds like an upgrade. It was not. Fourteen adults were crammed in the back of the van that back in Canada might seat six. Also it was Barney-themed.
Mercedes and I were in the back that had a row of seats for three people. When someone decided to join us in our row, we opted to take the two window seats and let her sit in the middle. Bad decision. Once we finally set off (after we waited 2.5 hours for the van to fill), two rather large Mongolian women had pushed themselves between us and in the process shoved us to the side. This left us each with about 10cm of seat, and perhaps another 25cm of unsupported gap between the seat and the door, in which to fit our bodies. I tried putting bags underneath me for some support, but shockingly, a bag is not as comfortable as a seat. Especially when the bag is not even with the seat and has no back support. Adding to the comfort was a door with many metal bits sticking out that I was squeezed in next to. It made for a very bruised side.
As we journeyed onward the weather grew colder and rainier. When we closed our windows to stay dry and warm, the women between us would yell in Mongolian and gesture at us to open them. When Mercedes didn't, the woman next to her would reach across Mercedes' face and grab it open herself, often hitting her face in the process.
When we left Moron there was one very drunk man on the bus. A drunk man who took quite the liking to me and Mercedes. He told us repeatedly (through the two women who spoke some English and were forced into the job of translators) that we were very beautiful. He also asked us to join him in a tent for the night, kept grabbing us to smell our hair, and insisted on taking photos with our arms wrapped around him.
As the trip progressed more and more of the passengers joined in the drunkeness. A bottle of vodka was always being passed around. At one of our many, many stops (approximately one every 45 minutes) someone grabbed a teacup from the restaurant we were stopped outside of, and a bottle of very strong apple wine was shared amongst the passengers. They insisted we join in. And each finish two cupfuls.
As drunks do, the men eventually started singing. And didn't stop their sing-a-long of Mongolian songs until 3:30 AM when one of the women between me and Mercedes yelled at them to stop. Our original drunken friend tried to start things up again, but no one else dared cross the angry woman and he slowly petered out.
The rest stop with the apple wine was actually enjoyable. Someone was selling bagfuls of absolutely delicious strawberries. And it was amazing the sense of camraderie that developed amongst everyone. People were sharing their food (and their wine). Everyone was exchanging phone numbers and talking like old friends. I guess bad experiences do bring people together. And we all watched on as somehow in the middle of a vast open field the driver managed to fix the axle of the van with no tools.
All told I think I had about 3 hours of highly interrupted sleep. I arrived with bruises in strange locations (such as my shoulder), a sore back and tired muscles, and a great "worst journey" story.
Epic
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