Camping in Paradise

Well before we left Australia, James started researching a place here that had, you guessed it, a golf course. Now, those who know James, understand that his love of golf sees him seeking anything that relates to the club and that little white ball. Once we were here in Mongolia, he started gathering information about how to travel the 60 odd kms to get to the only golf course he can locate in Mongolia.

So you can appreciate how I felt. I was going off on a three day volunteers workshop in the countryside, staying in a ger camp. As we made our way, someone on the bus said, “Hey, is that a golf course?”.  Oh no, guess where I was. I phoned James and asked him the same thing. When I told him I was at UB2 Hotel, well I won’t tell you what he said.

 

But I suppose I should go back to the start. Yes, it was a work related jaunt out of the city, into the most beautiful scenery I have seen here, so far. The setting was Teralj, a national park set among mountains and rolling green hills. The hotel sat above a river that flowed freely with rock covered shores.

The ride up there in a mini bus was fun, we traveled some of the same roads on my previous trip to the countryside, but when we took a turn to the left, we climbed up and past big rocky outcrops and clumps of pine trees. Herds of goats or cattle grazed, the odd herder on a motor bike. Once we had passed through the entrance to the park,  the hills and valleys were dotted with clumps of white gers which provided holiday accommodation in this crisp fresh air. 

The bus was crammed full of Aussies and our Mongolian counter-parts but the conversation of the Australians was all about what was missed most from home. The consensus was Tim Tams, Mint Slice and Cadbury Caramelo Koalas. It is amazing what brings memories of home. I must be the nanna of the group, I thought of family, friends and a soft mattress.

After we had pulled up at the hotel, all bundled out and I had made my phone call to James, we were shown around the back of the hotel to rows of gers. Empty beds (with really soft mattresses) were claimed and then it was out to explore. Some of the blokes hired golf clubs and headed to the driving range. The Mongolians, not to be left out, followed and had a go. Mongolian ladies are really fashion conscious, so of course, they had changed before making their way to hit a few balls. One of the girls came up to the tee wearing a little black dress and black stilettos. They were the only shoes she had brought on the camping experience. 

 

That night after dinner was “party” time. There was lots of singing and dancing, but even more drinking and as a result, a few slow starters the next day. I guess it could be described as a cross-cultural sharing of songs and dance, with the Aussies singing Waltzing Matilda and Give Me a Home Among the Gum Trees, while swilling vodka and beer. Can’t help but think that some of the Mongolian contribution to the entertainment had more cultural romance. There were times though that the entertainment was a little more like a first year uni party. I think I should mention here, that there were quite a few productive hours shared during the workshops. But for me, the magic of that area was fantastic. And I’m sure of much more interesting than outcomes, indicators and capacity building.

It rained on our second day, fortunately we were all inside for the day. But at night, the sound of rain on the ger roof was rather rhythmical and exotic. We were as warm as toast, a fire had been lit in the stove in the middle of the room earlier in the evening and was now producing a cosy warmth. Everything had been moved up off the floor in-case the water ran through the ger. The rain came in waves with the wind and the damp felt lining had a smell reminding me of my wet school jumper after walking home on a rainy day. It was easy to get off to sleep.

The rain had swollen the river and it was flowing faster the next day. There was a mist rising from it which added to the charm of the place, but the paths were slipperier, so more of a challenge to walk the banks. I sat and watched a young couple trying to make their way to the other side, where a ger camp was available for tourists. They persisted to walk up and down the edge and tried a few times to wade across, but the river was too fast and I expect being unknown, too big a risk. Eventually a horse and cart came from the other side and carried them and their backpack back to make camp on the other side.

Our last day was just a free frolic from lunch time, so most of the group took off horse riding. I decided to save that experience for another time, but took a wander through the local village and then up a steep hill that overlooked a valley. Everything was so green, so picturesque, the word beautiful just doesn’t match it. There was a clump of gers set up on the edge of the creek that twisted under trees. Horses grazed, it was warm and sunny, the skies blue, just glorious.

 

 

I think this has been my best experience so far. There were a few downers though. Our meals, provided by the hotel, were traditional Mongolian foods. Breakfast, rice porridge with beef and hot tea. Lunch, beef soup, mutton and salad with stale bread and salty milk. Dinner, mutton soup and beef with salad. And I found out gers don’t have bathrooms. So sneaking to the loo in the middle of the night was a quick run wrapped in my duna.

But the good bits grossly outweighed the bad. I really want to head back up there in early or late winter. I would love to see that area through the seasons and I can imagine the mountains covered in snow with the trees peeking through. I imagine the river will be frozen and paint a totally different picture. But when I go back again it will be with James and he can chase that little white ball while I soak up the scenery, and my guilt will be appeased.