Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Oh, actually, Tim, we don't usually eat goat's ear,' he said. 'We just thought it
was something new for you. The good stuff is the eyes and also the lips. Here, try
some.'
Thankfully, the main meal was a delicious bowl of homemade noodles with
pieces of mutton. It was followed by goat cheese and yoghurt mixed with sugar and
blueberries. The woman, like babushkas in Russia, was adamant that we ate until
we couldn't possibly fit more in.
'Boys, boys, boys! Your family must be so worried about you. You are too
skinny, eat, eat, eat!' she repeated, shrilly. From there on we decided that she really
was the equivalent of a Mongolian Baba Galya: generous, hospitable and jovially
eccentric.
With the setting of the sun, there was nothing more to do than settle in for sleep
and bask in the feeling of an overly full stomach. We lay our sleeping mats down
and slipped under the blankets.
'What a day, hey?' I said to Chris, with a sigh of relief.
'Yeah, I reckon,' came his sleepy response. The babushka blew out the candle
and wriggled into her own bed, a foot away from ours. She softly conversed with
her son and eventually silence fell.
I listened carefully, feeling cosy and secure in the intimate dwelling. The roaring
cold wind that blew outside was barely audible, muffled by the thick felt walls. I
could also just make out the sound of a herd of animals approaching with a thou-
sand soft thuds upon the earth. Then, with a cacophony of snorts, they too came to
rest. It occurred to me that the animals were like an extended family and they felt
safe huddled up next to the
ger
.
I adjusted my eyes to the starry patch of sky visible through the circular hole in
the ceiling. Eventually the stars petered out just like the candle.
I awoke once during the night, shivering in the cold with an ice-cream headache.
The stove had burnt out and the temperature had plummeted to below zero. I didn't
envy the babushka as she woke too, hyperventilating before putting on her warm
dele
. She lit the stove and went back to bed.
Dawn was marked by the rustle of animals rising and a light rain falling. I
stumbled into the gloom, bent on capturing the sunrise on film. Before the sun had
nudged over the horizon, the babushka and an old man from a neighbouring
ger
washed their faces with a splash of cold water before ambling over to a couple of
sedate-looking yaks. I filmed as they sat side by side squeezing rhythmically at
teats, often breaking out in laughter.
