It was very cold
last night – well below zero. In the morning, the little stream
beside our ger was almost completely frozen over and a bottle of
water that the girls had left outside was frozen solid. I got up
early and lit the fire and then started repacking the bags. We had to
be ready for 7am so that we could get a lift to the village for the
8am bus to UB. The car duly turned up and drove towards town,
stopping beside the river in view of the village. Our driver (the
wife's father), then got out of the 4wd and started to do something
to one of the front wheels. When he was done, he got back in the
vehicle, started the engine, and drove straight into the river –
not quite what we were expecting. Apparently this was a short cut,
and shortly after we rejoined the road into town.
He dropped us at the
bus stop and right around 8am, the bus turned up. The drive back was
pretty uneventful, and a few hours later we got off on Peace Avenue.
As we walked back to the hostel we realised that we were near the
Soup Bar, so decided to stop in for some pancakes for breakfast, but
this time they were catering an event and could only offer us soup
and paninis, so we went to the nearby Wendy Cafe.
Suitable satiated,
we walked to the hostel and were this time shown to an apartment all
of our own – with a washing machine! Our joy at this discovery was
tempered significantly by the fact that it didn't drain properly, so
everything that came out of it was sopping wet. But our limited
supply of clothing was badly in need of a wash and the apartment was
soon adorned with an array of damp clothes.
We lunched at a cute
little Japanese place around the corner and then went back to the
apartment to await the arrival of Tuul and two of her children.
During the trip, she had mentioned that her kids were always very
curious to hear about her adventures with the foreign tourists –
having had very little contact with foreigners themselves – so Kate
suggested that we meet up with them so that they could see some white
folks in the flesh.
A boy and girl, they
proved to be understandably shy and reticent when they arrived. They
had both done some lovely drawings for the girls, which they shyly
handed over, and then the girls brought out a memory game that they
had been given on one of the German trains. As they children started
playing, they came out of their shells and were soon laughing and
smiling.
When it was time to
go, we gave them the girls' coats and gloves – we've been following
the weather in Beijing and it's pretty clear that we won't be needing
them again. The little girl put on Zoe's jacket immediately and
quietly told her mother that she wanted to be reborn as an English
girls because they were so kind.
When it came time
for dinner, we checked out a few places from TripAdvisor, but none of
them looked quite right, and we ended up in the Italian arm of a
local Mongolian restaurant chain. Bad move. Our meals all bordered on
the inedible – Kate's chicken came with a piece of broccoli that
was rock hard, stone cold and completely devoid of flavour. She had
to send both it and her potatoes back to the kitchen to be reheated.
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