September 3, 2014
Meeting the most beautiful girl in the world: Thanks life!
I didn't need to go into Ulan Bator. The road that I was on and the road that I needed to take to Arvaiheer met one another right on the edge of Mongolia's capital (and only real) city, and so I could simply make a sharp right turn and not bother myself with the hassle of what had been described to me as 'one of the world's worst cities.' Nobody seemed to have anything good to say about the place, but in a way that actually made me want to go and take a look for myself. I mean, just imagine being able to boast about having seen one of the world's worst cities! But as luck would have it I used to live in Coventry, and considered the box already ticked, and so I didn't go to Ulan Bator.
I did see it though, looking down from the big hill that climbed away in the direction of Arvaiheer. Well, bits of it, skyscrapers poking through a thick layer of smog mostly. Apparently it's the world's second most polluted city (possibly after Coventry?) and it was funny to think about how the sky in Mongolia seemed to be a much brighter blue than anywhere else, but that the majority of the population couldn't see it through their own exhaust fumes.
Interestingly the road that carried me up that hill was not only still paved but was actually a dual carriageway for some kilometres. It may well be the case that Mongolians are not familiar with the workings of dual carriageways however, for all the slow moving trucks hogged the outside lane and everything faster passed by undertaking. Or maybe that's just how dual carriageways are supposed to work in Mongolia. Perhaps I was being the fool for not putting myself in the middle of it all.
As I climbed this very long hill on this dual carriageway I was called over by a small group that were sitting in the shade of a fence. As well as a few older men there were a couple of younger women and a baby, so I thought it safe to go over to say hello. Nothing wrong with a family picnic is there? As soon as I arrived over to them a big glass was filled with vodka and handed to me. Of course, this was a Mongolian picnic. I took a sip and went to hand it back, but I was encouraged to drink it all. The sharp right turn had turned the wind from foe to friend and I was feeling strong, so I thought a little drink couldn't hurt, and downed the glass. The man who had given me the vodka poured me a glass of water and gave it to me to drink as a chaser. Presumably because nothing gets rid of a foul taste in your mouth quite like water. Now the man was interested in my hair, I guess because Mongolians don't really have much hair. He touched my beard, he pulled at the hair on my arms, he stroked the hair on my legs. It was when he made a grab for my balls that I put a stop to things. Then I noticed that there was a goat lying on the ground next to them with its legs all tied together, evidently not long for this world and as it was nearly lunchtime I left as quick as I could, before I had to witness any blood spilling first hand.
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Well I can't say as for sure that the vodka was a good idea, but the rest of the day certainly did seem to fly by in a happy blur. As the day drew towards a close I was zooming along with the wind at my back, the road still paved, the scenery lovely and the sun, which was descending to the horizon through the clouds almost directly ahead of me, a mesmorising aray of colour. At that moment I felt that life really couldn't get much better. But I think maybe life must have noticed me thinking that, because then it decided that it was going to raise the stakes. I'm not sure, I was still a little under the influence of the vodka, but I think I heard life say something along the lines of "I heard you don't think I can get much better? Watch this!" And then the next thing I knew there were three motorcycles pulling alongside me and stopping to say hello. The first had two Frenchmen sitting on it, the second a British guy, and on the third, with tremendous credit to life, was the most beautiful girl in the world.
The four of them were all on various travels and had met in an Ulan Bator hostel and decided to rent these motorcycles and do a short tour of Mongolia on them. The type of motorcycle they were on, a lightweight and not very powerful bike, almost more of a motorscooter really, was to be seen everywhere in Mongolia. It was almost a 21st century Mongolian horse, perfect for the off-road tracks and I had seen the locals using them for all sorts of things from rounding up animals to transporting loads (including one time, memorably, a live goat.) None of the travelers had ever been on a motorcycle before, but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. They all seemed very nice, and one of them was the most beautiful girl in the world, so I suggested we find a place to camp together and they agreed.
We left the main road and went up a track that led past a yurt, and with the noise of the bikes the owner came out and called us all over, so we ended up being invited inside. The yurt was simply furnished with a couple of beds and a table and was the home of the man and his wife. Apparently they had one grown-up child that had moved away, and now it was just the two of them.
With tea being handed out all round I got talking with the British guy, Matt, who rather annoyingly had positioned himself sitting between me and Dea, the Danish girl who I have referred to as the most beautiful girl in the world. She was tall and blonde and had blue eyes, and her hair was shaved short on one side in a really cool way. She had cool shoes too. She was really cool. What a shame Matt was sitting in the way. I talked to him anyway. He was now on a journey overland to Australia, but his previous trip was much better. On that he had ridden from Calais to Gibraltar on a unicycle. Yes, a unicycle! By now our host woman was passing around a tray of cheese-like hard curd biscuit things. I took one. It didn't taste great, but it was edible. Matt didn't like his, and slipped it discreetly into his pocket so as not to offend. Later on when we were outside he fished it out and one of the French guys snatched it off him and gobbled it up. They do like their cheese don't they?
Our host man was great fun and put on some music for us. I was expecting some traditional Mongolian music but instead we opened up with 'Hey Macarana' which he added some unusual new dance moves to for our benefit. I was sure he was going to crack open the vodka any minute, but bizarrely it never materialized. And when it would have been so welcome too. Dea was clearly way out of my league, but at least I felt I was one up in the competition. The two French guys sat there and hardly said a word, and Matt, great guy though he was, was delightfully short. Dea was a tall girl and whilst I was probably too short for her, he definitely was. Then a friend of the two French guys showed up. He'd already been riding around on his motorcycle for a few days and had been directed here to join up with everyone. In through the door of the yurt he ducked, then he straightened up and nearly banged his head on the roof. 'Oh good, just what this party needs,' I thought, 'a tall, handsome man."
Now before I continue with this exciting narrative I must just pause briefly to answer an enquiry recently received from one of my (hopefully) faithful followers. Simon McC writes:
Do you think that posts that contain the comment "most beautiful girl in the world" could actually also include a picture of said most beautiful girl in the world?Asking for a friend.
SMc
Of course Simon, anything for a friend. Here's a picture of Dea:
Unfortunately the lazy woman in the yurt hadn't prepared dinner for eight and so we all moved outside to put up our tents and eat. Being a consummate gentleman and one very experienced at breaking tents I naturally helped Dea to put hers up. Knowing all the ways in which I might break it meant I was able to very carefully avoid doing so. I also had the chance to talk to Dea about her trip, in which she was traveling around Mongolia, China and, for some reason I didn't quite understand, the Philippines. After a delightful dinner of cold sandwiches everyone retired to their tents, but on my way to mine I noticed Dea sitting outside hers. I'm not stupid, I sat down with her and we talked under the stars and watched the moon set. It was really a nice night, she was really intelligent, and smart, and clever, and all that. Oh, and she was the most beautiful girl in the world too. And you know what else, she was actually going the same way as me!
Just a shame she was doing it on a sodding motorcycle isn't it?
Today's ride: 117 km (73 miles)
Total: 27,511 km (17,084 miles)
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