The time I ate sheep poop in Mongolia

I just need to warn you ahead of time.  This is pretty disgusting.  If you don't like to hear about humans eating food that humans shouldn't eat (and the related side-effects), then you might not want to read it.  Just be warned not to do it while eating hot dogs or burritos.

At just about dinner time, an older Mongolian woman entered the tent, carrying a shallow, blue plastic bucket, filled with what looked like some kind of meat.  It smelled like it had just been taken out of boiling water...you know that not-so-nice smell of meat steam, which is not nearly as good as the smell of fried bacon or grilled pork chops.  There was also an aromatic hint of cooked blood, grass, herbivore poop, and guts, which was not the best sign of things to come.  I sat with four others on the floor of the ger: my driver, my guide Zaya, the owner, and another guy whom I didn't know.  With two hands, the woman dropped the bucket on the floor in front of the owner, and handed him a knife.  He exhaled deeply onto the shiny blade, causing it to turn foggy, then rubbed it against his sweat pants to "clean" it.  He reached into the bucket to take out a piece of meat, and I finally realized why it smelled like it did.  We were about to eat a bucket of sheep guts for dinner.  

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It all started when I handed over the bottle of vodka I bought for the family with whom we were staying.  We had just arrived to their nomadic "home", in the middle of the Gobi desert, and I wanted to show the family that I appreciated them letting us stay.  It was the early evening and there was nothing else happening, so I asked Zaya if it was a good time.  She said yes, so I went into the man's tent and offered him the bottle.  He smiled, first at the bottle, then at me, and motioned to his wife to pass him a small wooden bowl.  I had fully expected to give it to him, exchange smiles, then go back to my tent for a short rest.  Little did I know that I would not be leaving that tent for hours, and would actually not remember going back to my tent at all.

Sitting on the floor, Grandpa Jeremy (that's not his name but I couldn't understand when they said his name, and since he has a little granddaughter, that's his name for this story), opened the 700 ml vodka bottle and poured a small amount in the wooden bowl.  Everyone in the room sat in silence as they watched him dip his finger in it, say a few words to himself, then suddenly toss the vodka into the air, all over the floor in his tent. I was a bit concerned that he just wasted good vodka. After this ritualistic "sacrifice" of pouring some out for his homies, he added more vodka into the bowl (about 2 shots worth), and drank it all in one gulp. The rest of us were just sitting and watching; the Mongolians knew what was happening, while I was wondering how to politely step away and leave him in his own little world.

He poured more into the bowl (again, 2 shots), then held the bowl out in front of him, looking at me, wanting me to come take it.  I started to move across the tent, when everyone in the room gasped.  "Don't go there!" yelled Zaya, and I froze.  Don't go where?  He was offering me vodka, and me being almost Polish, I know I can't say no to vodka.  "You must go around the sticks", she pleaded. I was confused, as there were no sticks anywhere.  After a couple unsuccessful translations, she pointed at the pillars in the middle of the tent, which helped support the roof.  She explained that it was bad luck to pass between the pillars, and I had to go around.  And so the evening of the "stupid tourist" began.

Grandpa Jeremy and the vodka bowl

I took the bowl of vodka ("bowl of vodka" just sounds wrong) from Jeremy and sat down next to him.  There were other people in the room, and only one bowl, so I thought maybe I should take a small sip and pass it around.  But really I had no idea what to do, and Zaya wasn't helping.  I felt like a puppy whose owner just put a juicy steak in front of them, and the puppy doesn't know what they're supposed to do.  Be polite and take a small bite, allowing others to have some, or savagely eat the entire thing (or at least lick all of it so nobody else will want it).  I decided to take the polite route, and took a small sip.  I made a loud "yummmm" sound, showing that I appreciated it, and held the bowl out, waving it around for nobody in particular, hoping someone would take it from me.  Nobody moved, so I offered it back to Jeremy.  But he didn't want it.  Instead, he motioned for me to keep drinking.  Zaya told me he wanted me to drink all of it.  I hesitated for a half-second, then downed the rest.  Luckily I have had some training in Poland with drinking straight vodka without a soft drink to wash it down, because the only chaser option in that tent was horse milk (no way!).  I wiped my lips and passed the empty bowl back.

Jeremy filled up the bowl again and passed it to Zaya.  Zaya told me she doesn't drink alcohol, so I was surprised when she took it.  She held the bowl in front of her with one hand, then dipped the middle finger of her other hand into the vodka, and touched it to her forehead.  Then, without taking a sip, she passed the full bowl back to Jeremy.  This was her way of saying "I appreciate the offer, but I know what will happen if I drink it, and I don't want to go there".  I guess it was acceptable to do that, but I preferred to see what would happen.  Jeremy took the bowl back and passed it to someone else.  So someone else had to drink the vodka that Zaya put her finger in.

Nobody else in the tent wanted vodka after that, so Jeremy took another one, then offered to me again.  I took it, and decided that since he told me to drink it all at once last time, I should drink the entire 2 shots in one gulp this time.  So I did.  And it hurt a little bit.  As I passed the bowl back to him, he said something to Zaya, to which she translated "you're supposed to drink it in 3 sips". How was I supposed to know that?  She said they would forgive me that time, but from now on, I had to finish each drink in 3 sips.  No more, no less.  To allow me to practice, Jeremy promptly poured another bowl for me.  It was my 3rd bowl of vodka within 10 minutes.

We took a short break, but after a few minutes, Jeremy continued to pour the vodka.  At this point only he and I were drinking, as everyone else was enjoying watching me get a little tipsy.  A couple other people came into the tent, just to watch.  Seriously.  They didn't drink, they just sat there giggling and mumbling to each other, acting as the peanut gallery.  Jeremy was on a mission to finish the the entire bottle just between the two of us, as I started to wish I bought him the smaller bottle instead.  I'm not really sure why we had to finish the whole thing, but he insisted.  And since he was treating me like the guest of honor, I didn't dare dip my finger and touch it to my forehead.  Within an hour, the bottle was empty.

Soon after, and now feeling very goofy, the wife came in with the blue bucket of steaming "meat".  I had enjoyed the food on the trip so far, and after drinking a half bottle of vodka, it was probably a good idea to eat something.  I was excited to enjoy a "family dinner" with my hosts, until I saw (and smelled) what was inside that bucket.  There were various animal parts that I could only recognize from science class, and other parts I had no idea about - liver, lungs, stomach, and intestines, among other things.  Clearly missing was any actual "meat". I wanted to ask for the tenderloin, but the only words that could come out of my agape mouth were "NO. WAY."

I repeat: NO. WAY. 

A week earlier I had managed to eat parts of the sheep's head (cheek, skin, eyeball, lips and tongue), which wasn't too bad, but a bucket of guts was considerably worse for some reason.  It was probably because of the smell, and the fact it looked like a scene from The Walking Dead.  It was like we were zombies crowded around a dead body, grabbing the guts from the cut-open torso, and shovelling into our mouths whatever we could get our hands on.  Jeremy reached into the bucket, pulled out...ummm...something, sliced it up and passed it out to everyone in the tent.  Everyone anxiously grabbed at anything he cut up, and swallowed it instantaneously.  Everyone except me.  I didn't say no, but I didn't jump right in either.  At the time I didn't differentiate between my vodka rule (say yes) and my sheep guts rule (at the time it was "say yes", but it has changed since then), but I wanted to at least understand what was happening before I put anything in my mouth.  Jeremy handed me a piece of something, which he wrapped inside a strip of gooey fat.  I think it was the fat casing that surrounds the stomach, as it was in a huge sheet.  He was using the cut-up fat pieces like tortilla wraps, to wrap up other unknown parts, making some kind of burritos.

When the sheets of fat are not being used as burrito wraps, they hang out on the roof of the tent

If my judgment had not been impaired by the vodka, my interest in participating in this so-called "feast" might have been different.  In other words, the vodka made me do it.  I reluctantly took everything they game me, crinkled my nose and held my breath, put it in my mouth, and basically swallowed without chewing.  Each time was followed by a smile (and grimace), a nod, and a polite "oh ya, it's not that bad".  It was always a lie, because it was that bad.

The absolute worst was something that Zaya was the most excited about. For her it was like the pinnacle of the sheep insides.  Jeremy had tired from cutting and serving, so he passed the knife to the guy whom I didn't know.  This guy seemed to be getting a kick out of my squirming every time I tasted something, as he kept laughing and making some comments that Zaya refused to translate.  He cut off a piece of intestine and gave it to Zaya, and Zaya squealed like a little girl.  She was obviously very excited about whatever she was about to eat.  She called me over to her, saying "Look, this is so great! It's a special grass!"  She proceeded to squeeze the intestine, forcing out some green goo, from which she picked out a piece of undigested grass and put it in her mouth, chewing excitedly.  I would have puked if I wasn't so shocked about what just happened.  The combination of the vodka, the chaos, and the fact I was in a scene from a Zombie movie, made it really hard for me to process what was happening.

Yummy intestines in the bucket (sorry, no picture of the special grass)

The guy serving the intestines saw the look on my face and thought it would be funny to offer me a piece.  He handed me a section of intestine the size of a bratwurst.  Zaya forced me to take it (she was so happy for me), but I motioned to him that I didn't want all of it, and maybe he could cut off a small piece instead.  He reached out with his knife and sliced about halfway through it, but it was still in one piece.  He thought I wanted to cut into the tube to look inside, not that I wanted only a tiny piece.  So now I could see inside the intestine and all of the contents started to ooze out.  It reminded me of those cheese-filled Oscar Meyer hot dogs, from which the cheese slowly excapes when you cut into it.  Except much worse.  There were 3 distinct colors in the tube: green, light gray, and dark gray. I don't want to know what those different colors were and I don't even know if they were part of the intestine or if they were stuff that the sheep had eaten.  Everyone in the room was keenly watching, even more than when we were drinking vodka.  To avoid it, I wanted to dip my finger in the green goo and touch it to my forehead, like Zaya did with the vodka, but I guess it wasn't an option.  So I tried it.  I shoved the whole piece in my mouth (which I thought would be the fastest way to get it over with), chewed a maximum of 3 times (which felt like forever), and tried not to actually taste anything (though I was unsuccessful).  When I couldn't take it anymore, I swallowed the entire intestine.  I paused, making sure that it would stay down, then realized what happened. I just ate sheep poop.  Or as I'd like to refer to it: "pre-poop".  It wasn't quite yet poop, as it was still inside the sheep...but basically, yea, I ate poo.

After this happened, Jeremy and the intestine guy both wanted more to drink.  So they grabbed a 2 liter bottle of beer, and started passing it around.  I was happy to drink anything that would wash out the disgusting taste.  Just like the vodka, I had to finish a coffee mug full of beer in 3 chugs "in the name of tradition," according to Zaya.  And it had to be quick, because the other two were waiting to use the same mug.  I was on an adrenaline high from all the excitement, and despite that nasty taste in my mouth, I was having a really good time.  I wasn't at all thinking about how I had a stomach full of vodka, guts, and beer.  And how that was probably not going to end well.

Three sips...

I don't remember going to bed, but I do remember waking up and having to run outside the tent to throw up everything inside my stomach (surely to nobody's surprise).  It was dark so I couldn't see anything, but I'm sure there was a huge pile of unchewed sheep parts just outside the door of our tent.  I also had to make a trip to the squatter in the dark, which would normally be pretty scary.  I think the fact that I was still feeling the vodka made this easier, otherwise I would have been stressed about going out to the toilet in the middle of the dark desert.  When I got back to the tent, I set my alarm to wake up early to clean up the puke outside the door, so Zaya wouldn't see it in the morning.  You see, even in this state, I was trying to be polite.  When I woke up around 6 am, however, all of the chunks were gone.  Someone, or something, had eaten all of it during the night.  I hope it was "something", and not "someone".

This guy might have enjoyed a recycled mid-night snack outside our tent

The food poisoning lasted a few days, and I was completely incapable of eating sheep for the rest of the trip.  The family had left the blue bucket out during the night and when I walked past it in the morning I almost fainted from the smell and sight.  It was not a good feeling.  To keep the mood light, the driver teased me for the rest of the trip, motioning as if he was drinking a vodka shot, then rubbing his stomach and moaning, making an "I'm sick" face.  Then he'd point and laugh at me.  I don't think he understands that people can get sick from eating sheep guts, because he was teasing me for the vodka part and not the sheep guts part.  Anyway, I thought it was pretty funny, but was too miserable to laugh.  In the end, it was a priceless experience, no matter how disgusting and painful.  I was glad that I got to share the evening with those guys in that setting.  Obviously I wish I hadn't gotten sick, but then the story wouldn't have been as fun.

I will never eat any of you again!

Leftovers, anyone?

Sightseeing in Central Mongolia

The second part of my nomadic adventure was spent in Central Mongolia.  I flew back from my Gobi adventure to UB and met my new guide (also called Zaya, who was only 20 years old, but treated me like she was my mother) and driver, Gana, who was late 20s, and is a cop in his day job. Zaya #2 had just graduated from University, studying translation (English and Russian), so she was much better at speaking to me than Zaya #1. We stopped at a market before heading off to get some supplies, and I couldn't resist the beautiful, round, plump, red apples, staring at me in the face.  I needed some fresh fruit (or fresh anything besides sheep) after eating ZERO fruits and less than a half of a vegetable over the previous four days.  They were the best $1 apples I ever had.  And soon after we needed to stop to use the toilet.

After the apples passed, our first goal was to find the wild horses in Hustai National Park.  People talk about these horses as if they are unicorns...not everyone can see them, and they are supposedly very beautiful, and can possibly grant wishes, and give you pots of gold.  The scenery was gorgeous, so we parked and admired the landscape, waiting to see if the horses would come out.  A guide from the park came with us with a pair of binoculars, constantly surveying the area for the majestic creatures.  Unfortunately they don't usually show themselves in the afternoon (which it was), and that day was no different.  So no unicorns for us, at least this time.  I found a video of them, just to make it seem like I saw them.

That guy is an expert at waiting for the horses

While waiting, Gana made me eat a weird meat sandwich, as a snack before lunch. I don't know what kind of meat it was, but it tasted like 90% fat and 10% salt, and I felt gross afterwards.  I tried not to complain about food being too fatty, because for them it's very important to eat all of the parts of the animal (and maybe also to build up their fat storage for winter).  Instead of having a second sandwich (Gana ate three), I ate another apple.

The road in Central Mongolia was a little more developed than in Gobi, at least while the roads lasted.  There were a few small villages along the way, with what could almost be considered strip malls; a sequence of small shops and restaurants lined up along the main road.  The only difference is that there were lots of pigs roaming around like dogs, and no toilets inside any of the restaurants (you still had to use the outhouses, which were on the opposite side of the street, or pee anywhere you felt like it).  Along the roads there were also lots of horses, cows, sheep and goats, so that was also different than a strip mall.  There were also mine fields of pot holes on the "paved" streets, where we'd have to slow down to about 5 mph to avoid them, and no other development anywhere around.  OK, so basically it wasn't anything like a strip mall.  

Mongolian strip mall

Even when the road is smooth, you face many obstacles

After a few hours, we arrived at our ger camp near some sand dunes. It was more rustic than the camps in Gobi (and older), in that there were no toilets or showers, and it felt even more like we were in the middle of nowhere.  We had to drive for miles over rocky terrain, super slow, just to find it.  Even though there were "outhouses" in the middle of a field, at least the toilets had wooden seats (very luxurious!).  But I still didn't understand the signs that ask you to throw the used TP in the trash bin (or recycle bin!!), even when there is a big hole in the ground for it. Ok, so I understand the signs (they were in English), but not the concept.  In my mind, that's even grosser than using a squatter toilet. There's literally a garbage can full of poopy paper sitting next to the toilet.  I don't like poopy paper anywhere around me. My tent had a big bed in it (Zaya and Gana stayed in another tent), but we had no lights, electricity or running water.  I think I was the only tourist in the whole camp, so it felt like VIP service when they came with hot wet towels for me to clean myself.

That's even worse than using a trash bin...

Luxury outhouse

Pretty nice dining tent

Nice scenic camp

VIP ger

Out of all the nights of the trip (besides the vodka/intestine night in Gobi, which I'll write about separately), the first night with Zaya and Gana was the worst.  I had some major food poisoning from the night before, and couldn't eat anything, nor sleep.  I must have worn out a path from my tent to the luxury outhouse in the middle of the night.  And for the rest of the trip, I couldn't eat any sheep meat, or else I'd throw up, and gagged just from smelling it.  For breakfast I asked for boiled rice in tea (aka chazuke), as a meal easy on my stomach. The staff was confused so I thought I could make it easier by asking for just rice and hot water. They seemed eager to please, but of course the "rice soup" came out filled with chunks of sheep meat.  Dammit.

On the way to see the biggest waterfall in Mongolia, we stopped to ride a camel, as you should always do on your way to see a waterfall.  Zaya led my camel while riding a horse in front of me.  She was a little reckless pulling us all over some hills and drops and ditches.  I thought the camel would fall down the hill, me tumbling to my demise, or sprain his skinny ankle on some rocks, but everyone came out in one piece.  I guess it wasn't his first rodeo.  I felt sorry for the camel because the leash (or whatever you call it) is connected to a pin in it's nose.  So when you pull on it, it's like pulling on the camel's nose ring!  Yikes.  I skipped lunch since I still didn't feel well, but Zaya found a shop for me to get a popsicle, which was great.  Somehow popsicles are always OK no matter how your stomach feels. It was difficult trying to find a place to eat lunch anyway, since many restaurants in the middle of nowhere might not serve you if you don't have a reservation.  Not because they don't have a place for you to sit, but because they might not have enough available food.

Zaya pulling on my camel's nose ring

At the restaurant we met a guy, who looked obviously foreign, with dirty clothes and a full beard.  He looked like a bum, to be honest.  But he was studying a map and came over to ask us a question, in English.  Turns out he is from France, and was riding his bike from France to China.  He decided to stop in Mongolia for a few weeks, since it's on the way (I mean, why not?).  I thought I was "roughing it", using squatters and not taking a shower, but he was sleeping in his tent, purifying his own water, and taking free hand outs from locals and tourists, rarely taking any transportation other than his mountain bike.  He had been on the road for TWO YEARS and didn't know when he'd finish.  A couple days later we passed him riding on a dirt road. We waved and honked, and scared the crap out of him.  I don't know if he recognized us, but I could almost see him mouthing swear words in our direction.

To get to the waterfall, we had to follow the trail along the river.  However, there wasn't much of a smooth route.  After hours of very slow driving, over the bumpy rocks, up and down small hills, dodging sheep, and watching every single Pitbull music video 100 times on Gana's GPS screen (GPS wasn't working but at least he downloaded some music videos), I was really sick of sitting in the car.  We needed to cross the river, but we couldn't find any path where the water was low enough, but also the bank was shallow enough for us to get down to the water without getting stuck on some huge jagged rocks.  A simple bridge would have been helpful!  We were following another car, because they looked like locals who knew where they were going.  But when they actually got stuck trying to cross at a certain point, we reversed and looked for a different path.  I wondered out loud if we should help them (since they were stuck in a river in the middle of nowhere), but both Zaya and Gana said "no", matter of factly, and that was the end of that conversation.  So if you are somewhere near the river in the middle of a field in the Mongolian countryside, please go save them.

Finally we found the camp and the waterfall.  We were in Orkhon Valley National Park, and it was quite beautiful, and especially nice to be around fresh water.  We walked from the camp to the waterfall, on a very pleasant evening, but I was freezing from feeling sick (I guess this happens when you get food poisoning). Zaya and Gana warmed my hands by each taking one and rubbing and blowing on them.  Gana also gave me his jacket. I felt like I was their small son, even though they are both younger than me.  It was a bit awkward (actually VERY awkward), but it helped a lot.  This camp wasn't so great, because the toilets and showers were shared between guys/girls, and they were dirty and old, the toilet seats were falling off and generally everything was uncomfortable and cold.  But I guess it was better than not having any toilets or showers at all.  Since I was so cold, I had to sleep with 3 blankets, my sleeping bag, and wearing ALL of my clothes.  Zaya and the camp attendants even took turns coming into my tent while I slept, to add wood to the fireplace throughout the night.  That was unnecessary, but I was very grateful.

Nice view of the valley

Orkhon Waterfall

The Orkhon river

The next day added a little bit of culture in addition to the nature we had been enjoying. Kharkhorin is home to the Erdene Zuu monastery, built in the 16th century, to demonstrate Mongolia's commitment to Tibetan Buddhism.  Both Zaya and the provided guide from the monastery were very helpful in explaining the art and history located there. We toured the temples and met some monks who were chanting inside.  It was pretty fascinating (and confusing) to hear about the history, all the Buddhas, the stories and beliefs.  I am interested to learn more about this, but there is so much information on the internet, it's hard to know where to start (I'm lazy).

Walls around the monastery

These monuments have spiritual significance (not sure about the skulls)

We ended up at our last camp, at Ugii Lake.  It was a very nice setting, and perfect weather to enjoy a swim.  But before that happened, I locked myself in the toilet stall, and had to wait several minutes until a girl walked by outside so I could yell to ask her to come and open the door.  For some reason there was a latch on the OUTSIDE of the stall door, and it locked itself when I went in. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed - me for being locked in the toilet, or the young girl whom I made come into the men's bathroom to let me out. But I did feel 100 times better than the day before, and thoroughly enjoyed sitting by the lake, taking a short swim, and watching the horses bathe.  Then we watched some guys pump water from where the horses were playing into a big tank on a truck.  Then they put that water into the water tanks attached to the camp showers and kitchen.  What?!  Wait a minute, what just happened?  So that's the water we bathe in, and even worse, drink?  I guess I wasn't having any tea that evening. It was a relaxing last day, and even though I was excited to head back to UB, and for my coming trip to Chicago, Seattle, and San Francisco, it was sad to leave. However, I was really looking forward to civilization for a hot shower (not with water horses bathe in) and a comfortable toilet seat.

Super peaceful at Ugii Lake

Except they pump lake water to use in the kitchen

My last night was not without some excitement.  I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of something creeping around my tent.  I could hear it pacing around, coming close to the tent, then moving away, circling me.  I thought it was some monster, or night stalker, or Mongolian Blair Witch, but I didn't want to go outside to look.  I ran to the door to make sure it was locked, tried to ignore the sounds by putting on my ipod, and tried to go back to sleep.  In the morning, I could still hear it, even louder than before.  The noises were coming from two places now. I checked the door to listen for something outside, but nothing was there.  I gathered all my courage to crack the door open and peered outside, in both directions.  I didn't see anything, so I slowly made a small loop to see if I could spot what was out there, but not getting too far away from the door in case I needed to jump back inside to save my life.  Then I saw it.  The creature that was creeping around while I was trying to sleep, giving me nightmares, and making me want my mommy:  A stupid cow.

Dumb cows scare the crap out of me at night

A nomadic life in the Gobi desert

Since I had to spend 10 days in Mongolia for work (see post on my life in Ulaanbaatar), I had to spend some personal time exploring the country as well.  I  wanted to visit a few different places, but honestly I had no idea about any of them.  I considered going to Lake Khovsgol in the North, which is the younger sister to Lake Bajkal, but instead chose to visit the Gobi Desert in the south, and Central Mongolia, to the West of UB.  I couldn't do this alone, so I looked to hire a driver and a guide, asking a local tourist office to arrange something for me.  Within a day, they had an itinerary set up, along with 2 different drivers (one for each location) and 2 guides (both named Zaya).

The trip started with a short flight from UB to Dalanzadgad, a small town in the South Gobi.  It was easy for my guide to find me in the terminal because there was only one gate in the entire airport.  And by "entire airport" I mean a building the size of a 7-11 store.  I grabbed my small duffle bag from the baggage claim (which was a bin in the parking lot) and we headed on our way.  For 8 days away, I didn't take much clothes, as the travel agent told me people don't usually change clothes in the desert; since the air is pretty dry, even though around 80 degrees in August (60 at night), people don't sweat.  I could wash my running shirts and socks when we found a sink, so all I really needed was a few layers for the evenings, and some undies.  I didn't have much space anyway since most of my bag was filled with the sleeping bag and air mattress that the agent let me borrow.

We picked up a few cases of water at a shop (yes, they have shops!), some snacks, and a couple bottles of vodka for our host families, then were on our way.  I checked my Blackberry (rest in peace now that I have an iPhone), noticing that there was no data coverage (and mostly no phone signal at all), and realized I would be cut off from work completely.  Not being connected was OK, except travelling alone AND not being connected is a bit sad...I mean, without being able to post stuff on Facebook, what would I do with myself?

Zaya #1 was super friendly and smiley, always taking care that I was comfortable and happy.  She was fairly new to being a guide, so I would call her more of a translator than a guide.  She didn't know much about the areas we were visiting; instead she had to ask the driver and then she'd translate.  But we also had some problems with the translations, because sometimes she would say "I don't know how to say that in English", and that was the end of the story.  For example, she couldn't explain why the Gobi is considered a desert, even though there was lots of green-ish grass and shrubs around, and and not much sand (I thought deserts were mostly sand).  Well, it turns out I'm the idiot, because sand covers only 20% of the deserts in the world.  I guess it's considered a desert based on the climate, not on what's on the ground.  She also liked to answer open-ended questions with "yes" and a head-nod, which was super helpful.  But really, she was really nice, so it was hard to be upset.

An hour outside of the city we ran out of paved road and started driving on the dirt and grass, following tracks that other drivers had made.  There were no street signs or GPS, lots of camels staring out into the horizon, horses rolling in the dirt, sheep and goats bouncing around, acting like best friends, a handful of ger tents every few miles, zero trees, zero shops, zero gas stations, and zero help if something happened to our car.  Somehow, our driver (who was named Erdenbat, which took me 3 days to learn how to say) knew where he was going based on the landmarks - hills, dunes, settlements, etc.  If I tried to drive there by myself, I'd still be out there.

Lots of difficult terrain like this

Not the kind of traffic jam I'm used to

The plan was to stay in ger camps for a few nights, which were like camp grounds with gers built for guests; some camps having a dining hall, maybe a shower (with slow dripping water), and if you were lucky, an actual toilet.  But usually they had poor plumbing, so you had to throw the used TP into a trash bin NEXT TO the toilet.  In my mind this is even nastier than pooping in a hole in the ground - especially when the trash bins have swinging lids, because the swinging lids get POOP ON THEM!

We were also going to stay a few nights with whatever nomadic families we came across in the middle of the desert.  We found our first family around lunch time, and I was really excited, and a bit nervous.  Erdenbat seemed to know the family from before and I think he arranged the visit before we arrived, which was probably difficult since there is no phone or internet.  Either that, or he just knew approximately where they live and planned to just show up and ask if there is free space.  They immediately fed us some home made donuts, fermented horse milk (which was just sitting in a big bowl inside the tent for who knows how long, and tasted like sour milk mixed with vodka), and a boiled goat/sheep's milk that curdled on top after sitting out.  They consume several liters of milk each day, since they have dozens of horses, goats and sheep, and nothing else to do with it.  I didn't want to ask (I wasn't so brave on the first day), but I was worried this was going to be our only food for lunch.  So I ate a few lactaid pills, plugged my nose when drinking the milk (they pass it around in a communal bowl and everyone takes turns), and ate about 20 donuts.

The first family's tents and "farm"

Home made donuts and a cauldron of fermented horse milk

I started feeling sick when the actual lunch came out (fried noodles with sheep meat and canned Polish pickle salad).  Every meal turned out to be something similar to this: sheep, with some "vegetables" (i.e. very few pieces of potatoes, carrots, and/or onions), either with noodles, in soup (with noodles) or with rice.  Sometimes it was in the form of a dumpling, or came with chunks of fat in it; sometimes it even had various insects or even some black strands of hair.  No matter the variation, it always had the same core ingredients.

Horse meat dumplings

The gers are bigger inside than I thought.  They're not "big", but they're comfortable enough for a few people to sit around and chat, and for a couple beds.  They are made from a wooden frame (lots of parts that must fit into a puzzle just perfectly), wool insulation, a cover over the top, and a hole in the middle for ventilation and the chimney.  This particular family also used solar power (for heating water I imagine) and a satellite dish to watch a 13 inch TV, so they weren't totally backwards in time.  Since most of their lifestyle revolves around their livestock (and they spend most of the day milking them or tending to their needs), they need to move their entire camp every few months to make sure the animals are finding enough fresh grass.  And usually they go back to the same site in the winter, to the permanent animal shelters they've built.  Supposedly they follow the Nomad Bro Code and nobody claims someone else's shelters when they're not there.

Inside the family's ger

The man was making some rope from hide while we ate lunch, then they let me watch them milk the animals.  It was funny that they have to trick the mommy horses into thinking a baby was drinking, by having the baby stand next to it and take a few sucks, then taking the baby's mouth away from the boobies and pumping it into buckets.  It's such an interesting lifestyle.  I found a short article about nomadic life generally that is pretty interesting.

Erdenbat and the lady of the house, milking horses

The goats' turn

Most of the animals are really smart too, as somehow, even after roaming around all day, they return just in time for the evening milking.  Zaya told me they come home just after sunset, and sure enough, as dusk settled in, I looked out on the horizon and could see a giant wave of sheep and goats coming home.  However, there was one time where we were walking around some river bank around sunset, and noticed 4 random goats jogging after us.  Once they caught up to us, they slowed down and just walked with us.  It was really cute because the "leader" of their fellowship was just a little guy, obviously younger, but less clueless than the others.  I think they thought we would lead them home, because they followed us for a good 10 minutes.  But we weren't going to their "home"; we were going to our car.  We didn't even know where their home was.  So I think we disappointed them when we drove away, leaving them standing and looking around, wondering where the heck they were.  Sorry guys.  I said MOST of them are smart.

Goats following us

Everything (and everyone) seemed pretty clean, considering there are no showers, washing machines or running water around.  It was peaceful that the only sounds were the wind, footsteps and bit of neighing and snorting from the horses (this actually got annoying at night when I couldn't fall asleep because of it).  I also had to carry baby wipes every where I went, since I was nervous how my stomach would react to all the dairy from lunch (but apparently it was low lactose).

Their "bathroom sink"

During some of our rest time, Erdenbaat passed me a smooth bottle made out of some kind of stone.  It looked like a bottle with magic potions, so I inspected it, nodded and smiled, trying to communicate that it was interesting to me, then passed it back.  Then he motioned to me to unscrew the cap, pull out the small spoon (it looked like the little brush at the end of a bottle of nail polish), and put the scooper up to my nose.  What?  I looked super confused so he took it from me, scooped up some of the powder that was inside the bottle, and stuck it up one of his nostrils.  He closed the other nostril with his fingers and inhaled, sucking the brown powder off the scooper.  Then he did the same thing in the other nostril.  For a minute I waited to see if he would start acting crazy, like it was some drug or something.  Nothing happened, so when he offered it back to me, I figured I had to do it.  I didn't want to offend him on our first day together.  I went through the motions just like he did, put a small pile of whatever it was on the tip of the spoon, and gently sucked it up my nose like a delicate princess.  Nothing happened.  He laughed and made a strong nose-sucking sound, plugging one nostril, urging me to do the same.  So I did, sucking much harder than the first time, and I think it sucked all the way up into my brain.  I let out a monstrous sneeze.  He laughed again, harder this time, and I gave it back without trying the other nostril.  He could tell from the tears in my eyes that I didn't need another hit.  Even as I write this, my nose is itching and I have the feeling of pepper in my throat.  Zaya couldn't explain what it was at the time, other than saying "it's something from a plant", which could have meant it was anything from mushrooms to cocaine to blueberries. It "tasted" a little bit like cinnamon, and my instincts told me that if it tasted like cinnamon it couldn't be bad for me.  Turns out that it was snuff, and it was my first and only experience putting tobacco in my body (until the second time I did it, when saying goodbye to Erdenbat at the airport - but I had to because he was an awesome guy).

Erdenbat and a camp owner inspecting each others' snuff bottles

The three of us shared a tent that night (a guest tent the owners rented out), which was about $5 per person for 3 meals and a bed.  There were huge spiders crawling around everything but I just ignored them when I turned off my headlamp. Since there was no running water, I "washed up" with some wet naps I bought in UB.  The outhouse was a couple hundred meters from the tent, so going out there in the dark was a bit scary. The weather was cool but comfortable, not needing more than shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt in my sleeping bag (I didn't want to sleep in the blanket that the family provided because who knows who or what else slept in there - but I guess I could ask the same question about the borrowed sleeping bag).  I did wake up every morning with strange bug bites all over my body, but I guess it's a normal hazard of sleeping in the desert.  After a breakfast of donuts, more milk products, and tea made with cloudy hot water (I tried not to think about why it was cloudy), we were off on the super bumpy roads through fields and fog.

A two "stall" outhouse was a luxury

The next night we stayed at a ger camp, which meant I could charge my iPad!  The camps usually turn on the electricity for a couple hours each evening for this, which was nice, so I could watch some movies before bed.  All of the camps had very nice people, friendly and attentive, but didn't speak much English. Erdenbat and Zaya napped while I went for a jog around the camp, chasing some camels through the open plains for a picture.  I ended up running about 6km chasing them all over (partly because I forgot my camera battery in my tent and had to run back after already reaching the camels...and when I went back to them, they had moved further away).  Then I remembered Zaya warning me about snakes, spiders and scorpions and I panicked and returned home as fast as possible. It was nice to have time to sight-see, but also to relax and not worry about anything.

The camels I chased around the desert

I was sitting on the patio in the warm afternoon sun, about to open my iPad, when the camp owner came over to stand by me. I was the only person on a giant patio, so it was kind of awkward. He was staring and smiling at me, so I asked if I could help him with something.  Hopefully with something that would make him go away.  Then he talked to me in 1 or 2 word sentences, obviously not comfortable communicating in English. It was weird at first, but it turns out he was just trying to be friendly. His young son came over, said "hello", and looked like he wanted to play with my iPad, so I let him take a look.  Within 10 seconds he could figure out all the commands to the FIFA soccer game (while I suck at it even though I can read the English commands). He gave his little sister (who looked about 3) a chance to play some Angry Birds, then got frustrated that she couldn't do it, so he took over.  I spent the next hour waiting for him to finish.  Once in a while he'd whimper and show the screen to me, because it was asking him to click on some buttons to get to the next menu (and he couldn't read it).  I just sat and watched, and wandered around taking pictures.  At least he played as the Seattle Sounders, and kept winning. Just when I thought I was getting it back, his dad returned and the two of them played while I watched, again. The sun was shining, I had a Golden Gobi beer in hand, my mind was clear, and I actually couldn't have been happier.

I won't be seeing that iPad for a while...

A few places we visited
- Yolyn Canyon - a peaceful hike along a small stream with fresh crisp air.  The stream turns to a sheet of ice in the winter (even in the middle of the desert).  At the time I was surprised to see horses and a "toilet" that was just a hole in the ground with 4 walls and a roof built around it.  I didn't know that I would be using these toilets for most of the next week.

Yolyn Canyon

- Khongoryn Els sand dunes - we tried climbing to the top of them, but they were much higher than they looked from the bottom.  I didn't want to get stranded in the sand, so we came back (to see our driver inspecting under the car hood, which is worrisome when it happens in the middle of nowhere).

Zaya #1 on the sand dunes

- Flaming Cliffs - some red rock formations that reminded me of a super miniature Grand Canyon, as well as some sand monuments, and historically they've found many dinosaur bones there.  This was really nice to hike around, until our driver forgot to pick us up in the middle of the desert.  We climbed on top of small hill to see if we could spot him in the distance, or see anyone that could help us.  We saw some people who were out of ear shot, so we jumped around trying to get their attention.  A car (not ours) picked them up then drove away, without seeing us.  It felt like being in some tragic movie, when the people are so close to being rescued, only to be ignored, and they have to eat each other to avoid dying of starvation. Luckily, after a long, worrisome hour, our driver found us. 

Sitting on top of the Flaming Cliffs

While waiting to die in the desert, I took some pictures

A few other tidbits:
- The landscape was changing with every day's drive; from rocks, to sand, to flat lands with tumbleweed, to hills, to red cliffs.  It was great just to stare out the window while driving.  Here's my album of pictures I took from the car ride.
- My guides always answered the same questions when we were approached by other Mongolians.  I could hear their response, the same every time: "No, he's American.  From Japan.  Yes, I know he looks Mongolian".  
- I got used to being called "Oy!" by everyone.
- Here's a question: when you use a translator, are you supposed to look at the translator when you talk, or to the person for whom the speech is intended, even though they don't understand you?
- Erdenbat wore the same clothes the whole time (except sometimes he took off his fleece or his hat).  I guess he's used to it after 15 years.
- Sheep have really weird tails, and they are best friends with goats, always running around together.

Look at those weird tails!