I walking past the Grand Khan Irish Pub with Sarah Johnston, about to cross the street, when a large white van sped on the turn and nearly ran us both over. Sarah, an Australian English teacher who had lived in Ulaanbaatar for 7 years, chuckled at my indignant and puzzled reaction, and responded to my ensuing rant on irresponsible driving in Mongolia. "A lot of the people here are still getting used to cars," she explained, "its very cut-throat, and it makes you think that they drive their cars like they ride their horses."
I could immediately see the truth in her observation.
I got back Saturday night from a 5 day trip in the Mongolian countryside. On my trip I at times rode in a rickety black Hyundai van, on my hungry camel Mufasa, and my gallant pony Murr (Mongolian for horse).
Mufasa was stubborn as hell, and it took all the strength in my arms to control him. At every blade of grass he lowered his giant head and start munching. At first I let him eat, figuring that once he had his fill, he would be more than happy to trot along at my command. But he kept eating. Eating and eating and eating.
Eventually I had had enough, and I pulled up on the reins as hard as I could. Mufasa snorted, lifted his head to face me, and wiped his sopping mouth on my arm.
One thing I'll say for Mufasa is that like me always wanted to be in the front of the pack. He let the other camels go ahead while he ate, but then as soon as he noticed how far ahead they were, let out snort from his enormous nostrils, and a burst of energy from some mysterious source, and sprinted until he was once again in front.
Murr, my gallant pony, was much easier to ride. All it took to get him going was a HAA!!! and a few nudges.Sometimes when I wanted to speed up he would sense it and take off, and when I wanted to slow, or turn he would also somehow know. Like the flying creatures in Avatar it was like he responded to my thoughts more than anything else as we galloped away from the guides, letting their voices fade away as they yelled "SSSTOOOOOP!"
the guides: 13 years old, and 16 years old. When they were younger they competed in the Naadam festival for the horse racing event. Here they look a little grumpy, but most of the time they couldnt stop laughing and playing.
As we raced along on our van I learned a lot about our driver Miga. This guy hates to be behind anyone on the road. When there were cars lined up in front on the toll booths for several hundred meters, Miga drove around the line and then cut in at the front. When we drove on the dusty dirt roads that are commonplace once you leave Ulaanbaatar, he would actually race with anyone else who was on the road with us, and cover them in the dirt that flew up from the back tires of his Hyundai.
