landing in St Jean de Luz

The moment that Chinggis Khaan landed in the sleepy Basque fishing port of St Jean de Luz he knew that he had found a second home. He would have struggled to find a more removed place from his wild and frozen Steppe. A multitide of brightly painted fishing boats sat berthed; enormous nets drying across their masts. Tall neatly packed townhouses in equally colourful resplendour watched on from the rim of the harbour, their windows crammed with curious faces. After ten months at sea the sight, sound and smells of this Basque fishing village embellished a maternal caress. The townsfolk lined the dock to welcome their new resident.

"Ahoy there!" shouted a swarthy looking Basque man, "Ongi etorri!".
"Sain baina uu!" replied Chinggis mimicking the welcome.

The dark, olive-skinned man leaned over and offered the Mongol emperor his arm. Pulling him ashore the two men embraced. It had been a long time since Chinggis had last been made to feel this welcome. A young child carrying a white terrine offered the stranger a splendid assortment of freshly caught fish. Chinggis had never tasted fish before but as the crowd looked on in anticipation he quickly swallowed three sardines and gulped greedily from a bottle of Irouleguy wine his new Basque friend had thrust into his hand. His eyes looked around at the people. They looked very different to those from his homeland. He looked forward to finding out more about them; particularly the women.

Basque of the day:- welcome :: ongi etorri

end of term report

Today is my last day living full-time in Ulaanbaatar, the fabulous capital city of Mongolia; coldest capital city in the world; fastest developing capital city and a splendidly wonderful and completely barmy place. Following a heavy night of dancing and drinking I have to suffer the pains of first class travel once more as I brave a wee flight across Northern Korea for some time in Seoul before heading back to London, then Paris then sunny St Jean de Luz. It has been some six months; an adventure I feel honoured to have had the privilege to enjoy. Herewith 5 good things about Mongolia, 5 less good and 5 interesting.


The Good

1. Mongolian music is wonderful, unique and omnipresent. It plays as important a role on Mongolian society as it does in Basque culture.
2. Mongolian culture and history is unrivalled; its geographic position has largely sheltered its heritage from untoward outside advances and it remains as it has been for centuries.
3. The Steppe is both wonderful and fearsome; it is one of the largest and most hostile places I have been able to enjoy and riding across it guarantees peace of mind.
4. The Mongolian people have an amazing sense of self belief; there is little doubt their future is bright given this and the serene anger that lurks under the commercial skin thanks to Chinggis.
5. I have made some incredible friends in Mongolia; it is a happy place and I hope that as it changes so much over the next few years that it remains so (go now if you want to experience it as it has been)

The Bad

1. The harsh environment and weather are strking and waring to the outsider.
2. As the country undergoes dramatic change so quickly there is a sense of potential double standards and corruption; Louis Vuitton is established while orphans struggle to survive.
3. There is trepidation about outsiders, a little is healthy too much is dangerous; there is a scary right wing movement being established that needs to be quashed soon.
4. As the country expands economically it needs to make provision for pollution and recycling.
5. Mongolia needs to get over its perceived dislike of China; the economic upside for Mongolia is immense given its natural resources

...and the Interesting

1. Mongolia has, in my view, the prettiest ladies in the world (even my wife agrees).
2. The Mongolian word for beaver is minge; the Mongolian for lion is aslan.
3. Airag is possibly the most unusual and horrid tasting drink on the planet.
4. Mongolian horses are the hardest animals I have ever met; they could even beat badgers in a fight if it came to it.
5. Mongolia has some of the most amusing and wonderful signs

...as for what it was that made Chinggis Khaan so angry; I shall continue my search next year...

Mongolian of the day:- goodbye :: bayartai

leather and fur

Mongolians really know how to dress well. More importantly, Mongolians really know how to dress well in frighteningly cold weather. An average amble around Ulaanbaatar is akin to a promenade around Rome on a sunny January afternoon.

When the weather turns you will find almost everybody wearing fur. Fur coats, fur stoles, fur boots, fur scarves, fur hats. Mongolians also have fabulous boots. Boots of every conceivable shape, style and colour. Boots for macho men, boots for petite fashionistas, boots for grandmothers.

There is no room for futile political correctness when the temeperature is this low. In Ulaanbaatar fur is a necessity not a luxury. The government even offers mortgages to help people purchase furry protection against the cold. I saw a homeless person wearing a fur coat earlier this week. Anyone feeling queasy or remotely outraged by fur wearing should come and spend a week walking around Mongolia without a fur hat on - faux fur only offers false promise - get over it! People without protection from the cold die here on a regular basis.

Hot on the heels of purchasing my first fur hat (genuine fox, love it) I have just been measured up for my first pair of Mongolian boots. So normal is it to have bespoke boots made that the fitting took approximately two minutes. Choosing the style and colour took a little longer. This morning I opted for dark brown knee length tight fitters with limited fanciness. I figure they will look something between 'trendy Gestapo' and 'Jilly Cooper addict'. They will be ready on Friday and cost about the same as a pair of Converse. Fox on my head, cows on my feet.

Mongolian of the day:- leather :: savikh

hats on to Mongolia

Hats are a big deal in Mongolia. Whether you are walking around Ulaanbaatar or exploring the Steppe you will find hats, hats and more hats.

They have three purposes:


1. They keep you warm in the crazy cold


2. They keep you cool in the heady heat


3. They make you look cool

Mongolian men in particular are avid hat wearers. They will rarely take them off even when indoors. During business meetings men will don something upon their bonce. Eating supper in restaurants men will retain a head piece.


In Mongolia there is one act that is utterly forbidden: never ever touch another man's hat. That way certain violence lies. It is a serious business.

Mongolian of the day:- hat :: malgai

three feet of ice and counting

Well, it's been crazily cold for several weeks in Ulaanbaatar now. Proper Mongolia cold like -30C not that wimpy stuff they're complaining about in the UK. All vegetation has died, as have most of the wild dogs and cats. Restaurants are mostly meat stew.


The Tuul River, where I was swimming a few weeks back, has up to three feet of ice. Where Ulaanbaatar had only two bridges connecting the city to the other side of the river and mountains where I live those normal thoroughfares no longer matter. If you want to cross the river you simply walk, or drive, over it. The ice is frighteningly thick and grows as you watch it.


With the ice has come a new game/sport I've never seen before. Think curling-cricket-archery. Men stand at one end of a 50 metre polished ice bowling lane. The project ornately carved stones down the rink aiming for a red piece of felt at the other end. There is one large piece of red felt which is flanked by two others on each side.


Players wear thick felt boots, fur hats and dels. Dels are the traditional Mongolian dress worn by many throughout the country - it is warm but easily opened if the weather heats up, I liken it to an Asian kilt which being St Andrew's Day has a nice feel.


You get five stones and different points depending where your stone goes. Players have no special footwear for the ice. To give them a little bit of grip they dig a niche into the ice to push off from. I tried five times and fell flat on my bum each time much to the amusement of the locals. They have said I can come back to play anytime though I think that was meant as a joke. I call that cultural integration.


Mongolian of the day:- ice :: mos

chasing the dragon

Another week; another country. This time back to China and Beijing. It was supposed to be a three day event chasing visas but the Mongolian Embassy was mysteriously closed forcing us to stay in 5-star luxury a few extra days. Sometimes life is too cruel.

Beijing has become a surprise entry into my top five favourite cities featuring at number four ahead of Marrakech but behind Rome, New York and London. It is a truly special place where Communism and Capitalism dance a merry jig arm in arm.

This week I spent a good many hours wandering around the 798 District. Originally a Bauhaus styled factory complex from the 50's it is now the vibrant centre of a contemporary art scene that has emerged since the shackles of Communism have loosened a little. What used to be factories are now galleries, what were tool sheds are now studios. Everything from photography and fashion to sculpture and architecture is on display. You can watch people creating, absorb the artwork or partake in purchasing.

Mixed between the buildings a Chinese cafe culture is springing up. Although there are foreign visitors it is almost exclusively a local affair with the trendiest and most fashionable of Beijing hanging out and looking fabulously cool.

The best installation I saw was called 'Come the Wolf'; one hundred and fifty bronze wolves prowling towards a lone swordsman, highly evocative. My sole concern was the irresponsible treatment of dinosaurs I witnessed. It was truly miserable to see such beauties caged.

Chinese of the day:- thank you :: xie xie

the shamen

I am living just outside Ulaanbaatar in a valley overlooking the city. There are a million walks from the apartment into the wilds and towards cultural allure. My favourite sojourn is a four kilometre run down the valley and along the river away from the city. Some two kilometres away is a major Shaman site. A large patch of land hosts a number of enormous timber posts. Each post is covered in predominantly blue cotton pendants that are tied to the wooden columns as offerings. It is a tranquil and mysterious place.

Shamanism believes that its practitioners, Shamen, are guides or messengers between the physical and spirit worlds. A Shaman seeking to help physical or mental illness or injury will seek to repair that persons soul. It is said that by alleviating pressure on the soul the physical body is healed. Shamen will also go into the spirit world to help communities and heal social problems. Shamanism has been practised for at least 12,000 years and is still practised widely today. It is the second religion of Mongolia after Buddhism.

Often when I pass through the site there are families of Mongolians camped near their offering. Such instances tend to signify the coming arrival of a Shaman. The Shamen seem to travel wildly as nomads. On arrival they will spend time with the families sharing food and discussing the issue at hand. The Shaman will use a rhythm, normally played on tambor, to start his journey to the spirit world. This is accompanied by chanting of the sort we grew up hearing red indians sing in coboy movies. It is a fascinating and captivating sound. I give families privacy at such times but as I walk on can hear the Shaman chanting wildly as the rhythm escalates. I am keen to know what happens during the trance; determined to know what is said; eager to unearth how it comes to pass. I may not have to wait too long. Today I was asked by a Mongolian friend whether I would like a visit with a Shaman, how can I possibly refuse...

Mongolian of the day:- good luck :: amjilt husey

Hollywood comes to Ulaanbaatar

Today as I paid a visit to the Gandan Buddhist monastery in Ulaanbaatar I saw a crowd heading towards the main prayer temple. Being ever curious I followed. Drawing the throng a leading Buddhist monk from Tibet was giving prayers. I sat and began my first Buddhist experience. The congregation, if that's the correct term, were almost exclusively monks. I did notice another grey haired non-Asian. As I looked more closely I thought I recognised him, but that surely wasn't possible. His face did seem incredibly familiar though. I tried to move in closer. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that sitting near me in a Buddhist temple in the middle of Outer Mongolia was none other than Richard Gere.


Now I can candidly state that he really is as good looking in real life as he is in the movies. Be it American Gigolo, Pretty Woman, Mothman or playing Billy the Kid he is one cool bloke. He also seemed to have his feet on the ground. I suspect he enjoyed being here, I don't think that (m)any others knew who he was. I did though and was embarrassingly as excited as a Massai tribesman seeing his first snowfall.


I did some digging and it appears that Mr Gere, a long time Buddhist, was in Ulaanbaatar to both hear the esteemed Tibetan monk give prayer but also to attend an international Buddhist conference that was taking place in the monastery. I have had some interesting moments during my time in Mongolia but this was surely the most astonishing. I really do hope that when I am 61 I look as darned handsome as he does, perhaps I need to find Buddha...




Mongolian of the day:- goodbye :: bayartai
(more about the monastery itself another time)

the sole of Seoul has soul

Going to and from Ulaanbaatar I prefer taking the Seoul route (UB-Seoul-Paris/London-Biarritz). The main South Korean hub of Incheon is a real gem amongst international airports. There are usually some five or six hours to kill between flights but rarely is a moment dull. Upon arrival I head straight for a massage. Not one of those European strokey-strokey efforts, a good old-fashioned Asian pummeling. If it doesn't hurt I want my money back. After 90 minutes of healing torture I'm famished. Reluctantly I have use of the business lounge and therein a fabulous range of savouries, muffins and French wine. By now I am properly chilled out. Time to go exploring.

The airport is huge, not T5 huge, but bigger than most. The terminal is shaped like a huge banana. Both sides of the fruit are adorned by a plethora of upmarket clothing shops, electrical accessories of allsorts, smashing eateries and other retail oriented ventures. As I passed by Prada I heard a group of girls screaming. I guessed it wasn't for me so went to explore. Four young lads stood on a small stage. They broke into some seemingly very popular pop song. It transpires they were the Asian equivalent of Take That, only younger.

In the middle of the banana another avenue leads off so it looks like the banana is on a stand. Down this route is the Korean Cultural Centre. I had seen various interesting processions start from here. First impressions tend towards naff. A second walk past still feels risible but a third begs entry. In the centre you can partake in any number of Korean cultural pursuits: writing ancient scroll, painting historic scenes, making fans etc. It's not (just) for kids and is a great example of a country marketing itself. I wonder what Heathrow would have passengers do at a Great British Cultural Centre...?

Korean of the day:- hello :: ahn-nyeong

life's a beach

Ten days back in the Basque country and every one of them has presented a reminder why St Jean de Luz is such a special place to be:

1) ridiculously good weather

2) wonderful beach

3) no Brits

4) beautiful people

5) quality restaurants

6) walking the mountains

7) real culture and history

8) promenading

9) aperitifs

10) friends

Ten more days before heading back to Mongolia. It's a difficult see-saw but somebody has to balance it.

Basque of the day:- life :: bizi

the real Crazy Horse Saloon

Mongolia has its own Crazy Horse Saloon. It's a little different from the one in Paris. I prefer it; less seedy. It's outdoors and men ride right up to the bar.

Horses are everywhere in Mongolia, there are far more horses than people here. The Mongolian horse is the breed of choice. They are very different beasts from those found elsewhere. Measuring in at around 12 hands they are far shorter than their foreign cousins. They are also lighter but this does not make them weaker. On the contrary the Mongolian horse is one of the toughest beasts on the planet. They live outdoors all year round; from +40C to -40C. Closely related to the Przewalski the Mongolian horse is said to be unchanged since the time of Chinggis Khaan (Genghis to the West), and have lived on the Steppe since 2000BC, but this does not mean they are unsophisticated. Why, only yesterday I spent a lovely day with a horse called Harry and his brother Ed. They got excited when I turned up and said 'hey'.

"Just cause we's short, sir, don't mean we's weak" said Harry in a drawl that sounded like Sam Gangee. To prove his point he manfully, well horsefully, carried me far across the mountainous terrain. And I am a heavy chap. On our travels he told me a little about his family. "We has tough feet see, we don't need metal shoes like thems soft developed horses. And our tails. Our tails are special see; the manpeople use them to make violin strings. My wife, that's Edwina right, she don't like the manpeople though, they milk her and make a drink that makes them silly, they call its Airag." I had tasted the stuff, it was 'interesting' to say the least.

Harry asked me to turn off the quotes as he told me that his cousins, and many others, had been eaten by the manpeople. He doesn't like this and feels aggreived they act in this way after all the help they been given. "It was one of yous manpeople, the great Chinggis, who said it was 'easy to conquer the world from the back of a horse' and modern manpeople say that 'a Mongol without a horse is like a bird without wings'. I knows you lot does loves us though. You lot haves more songs about love for us horses than you have for your womenfolk." Strange as it may be, in Mongolia this is an accepted truth.

Mongolian of the day:- horse :: aduu

driving mad in Ulaanbaatar

There are a lot of cars in Ulaanbaatar. This is a new thing. Ten years ago herds of horses were driven through the centre of the city. Now obscene Hummers, ridiculous Mitsubishis and other assorted calamitous vehicles choke the roads. It can take an hour to travel 5km. Some cars are left hand drive, others right. This is Mongolia, there are few rules. Mongolians are proud as punch of their cars. Despite the dust they are washed in the river and polished with frightening regularity so that they look dandy on the roads. 'Roads' is an overstatement. Driving more than 100m without swerving to avoid a moonscaped crater is a luxury. Most 'roads' alternate between shattered one-track concrete and rocky dust. This has as much to do with the extreme weather that fluctuates over 80C during the year as it has to do with infrastructure that offers great opportunity.

Driving is a relatively new phenomenon too. As horses are traded for 4x4s the average driver does little to change their transportation strategy. Space is sought out and taken despite the danger. Being first is all-important. This photo is a narrow one lane road. I am sitting in the middle. I was watching the car in front to the right as it stradled the pavement. Normal enough for these parts until the No.6 bus came hurtling down the centre of the pavement. Passengers laughed; pedestrians scattered; we just got out of the way.

Mongolian of the day:- peace :: enh taivan

take me to the river

For a moment this afternoon the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar were moved from Mongolia to the Deep South circa 1938. The sun shone high in the sky; birds sang blissfully as they flew up-river; children played gleefully in the Tuul River as their mothers watched on from bankside picnics; men passed by on horseback singing in harmony, tipping their hats whenever they encountered a lady. I sank into the river and let the coolness soak away my worries. I communicated freely with other bathers; no words were exchanged but we understood each other well enough. There were no cars, no mechanical sounds, no email, no cell-phones, just time to watch the sky and trail your feet in the river. The only thing missing was abject racism and we were all happy about it. There's no way he even received an invite. His invite was sent to harmony instead, she's far prettier. As Keats once said 'a thing of beauty is a joy forever'.

Mongolian of the day:- cool :: seruun

street kids in Ulaanbaatar

The population of Ulaanbaatar has increased dramatically in recent years as winters get harsher forcing erstwhile nomadic people to fix roots. There is a proliferation of ger camps on the outskirts of town. Mongolia is an emerging economy; many families in the camps have little to live on. Drug and alcohol abuse are prevalent in the camps. Many children are born unwanted or simply become undesirable as they get older. Others lose their parents. Others simply run away. There has been a mounting number of homeless children. A solution is being developed by an unlikely source.

The Metropolitan Police of Mongolia have bought a large house on the outskirts of the city. The house is for the exclusive use of orphaned street kids. A middle-aged doctor has given up her livelihood to focus on acting as matron to the forty or so children. The children are free to come and go as they please. Mostly, they seem to stay. The eldest child is 16, the youngest is 3. The house offers protection and a chance; no matter how small. These children have had it harder than any others I have come across. Poverty would be a luxury for some of them.

Set over three storeys the property contains two large dormitories; one for boys, one for girls. It has a large kitchen and dining area. The rest of the house is dominated by music and craft rooms. This may seem odd but the matron, assisted by local musicians, offers the children a chance to learn a musical instrument, sing in a choir, learn a craft or simply appreciate. I was privileged to be invited to this wonderful home for a day alongside the International Women's Association of Mongolia (IWAM), a charitable organisation, run by the delightfully energetic Mo, that is currently helping provide for the children.

When I arrived some of the older boys were hanging around outside looking far older and tougher than their ages warranted. I greeted them and went inside. They mostly ignored me. Inside I was given a tour of the home and several of the children played traditional Mongolian music or sang folk songs. There was some real talent amongst them. The ladies and I then offered to teach the children art, beadwork, juggling and writing.

I was on juggling duty together with the only other chap there. We had several sets of juggling bags with us for the children. After playing with some of the smaller kids one of the tough-guys from the front door came into the room. He was clearly keen to learn but was too cool for school. We eventually coaxed him to join us. Seeing the lad juggle killed me. As the bags flew from hand to hand years of solitude and harshness disappeared, if only for a while; a broad smile spread and relaxed across his tense face. He took the bags and disappeared to practice on his own; he laughed enthusiastically as he left the room. The other boys looked on astonished, this kid was not known for being happy. As we were leaving he hugged me and promised to learn five new tricks for my next visit. He didn't know if I was coming back, after meeting him and his friends it's impossible not to.

Mongolian of the day:- children :: khuukhed

real life dinosaurs and big open spaces near Ulaanbaatar

This weekend we ventured forth out of Ulaanbaatar into the Terelj National Park. It is an enormous space some 50km northeast of the capital and a popular destination for the city's residents. As we drove north we passed groups of locals lining the bedraggled road selling freshly picked wild strawberres, delicious; one jar for 50 pence. The valley gets wider the further from town you get. Massive boulders line its edge. It is as if you are in the set of a western starring John Wayne. Yaks, goats and horses mingle along the valley floor. Lush forests disappear up the hillsides. The space feels as wide as it seems long. High on the hill tops, tied to large branches, blue ribbons stream in the air. They are blessings for spiritual grounds and await the visit of passing Shamen. I spent an hour with one Shaman. He was very serious and mumbled a lot. I wish I could have understood what he was saying. There was much incense and giving of offerings. He kept banging a drum though and what Mongolian I know evaded me. I kept thinking about Ebenezer Goode. Next time.

Rounding one particularly enormous rock, fondly known as Turtle Rock, we came across a herd we hadn't expected. Some twenty life-sized dinosaurs stood idling away the hours in glorious concrete. Quite a shock. Thirty kilometres further north, as the road gave way to mud we found our haven for the weekend, the Terelj Hotel. The only hotel in Mongolia to feature in the Small Luxury Hotels guide. The clientele reminded us of Mumbai. Very fashionable and conversing freely in English smattered with the odd word in Mongolian. A super lush haunt if you find yourself in these parts.

Mongolian of the day:- thank you :: bayarlalaa

drinking and dancing in Ulaanbaatar (part1)

Ulaanbaatar dishes up a surprisingly wide array of nightlife. There is at least something for most tastes.


Sophisticates

• Monet and Sky Lounge - located on the top floor of Central Tower (Louis Vuitton, Zegna, Armani and Boss on ground floor) this is 'the' place to hang out with the beautiful people of Mongolia. Kitten heels and sharp suits are the order of play. Astounding views.
• Veranda - again I enthuse about this place. The best place to enjoy a bottle of wine with friends.
• Crystal Lounge - modernist, trendy hang-out serving only cocktails; decent ones at that.

Drinkers
Ulaanbaatar has almost as many pubs as Edinburgh. Most are wee vodka dens; a must for the more intrepid drinker. Most of the big bars are themed, sounds tacky but it actually works.

• Dublin - even deepest Mongolia has its own Irish bar. This is a better and more genuine offering than many other countries boast. Good beer, great atmosphere and a leg of lamb for a pound - bargain! Miners love this place.
• Dave's Place - a British pub that runs a pub quiz alongside decent football (if that's your thing). Nice outdoor patio.
• Brau Haus - to Germany and as you'd expect: loud, big beers, hearty food and live music. Not for a quiet night.

Clubbers

• Ismuss - weird weird weird. The multi-level club boasts a 7 metre high statue of Joseph Stalin! A throw back to Soviet-chic, worth a visit.
• Zouq - the first Egyptian themed club I've come across. Catwalk dance floor.
• Silence - late night trance music.

Mongolian of the day:- drink :: undaa

life in Ulaanbaatar

Living in Ulaanbaatar means not being in a hurry. The city centre is about 5km from my apartment. Some days it takes 5 minutes, other days 1 hour; no rhyme or reason. We are a week into the (very) hot weather and having moved outside town is the smartest move we have made to date. Getting irked by traffic is not an option, it wastes too much energy; this is a commonly held view resulting in a pleasantly placid non-threatening atmosphere. (We are in the apartment block, the president's palace is the big white bulding)

At the bottom of our driveway the Tuul River meanders along the southern limits of the city. Tull means 'to meander through' in Mongolian. The 800km long river has long been held sacred by the Mongols, presumably because of the naturally arid nature of the country.

Tuul River is a very popular place for swimming, gathering and barbecues. In the evening groups of friends and families hang out on the riverbank; playing, splashing, eating, talking and generally having a nice time away from the stinging heat. The water comes from the mountains and retains its cool freshness. With temperatures remaining well over 35C during the day (and above 25C most nights) plunging into the water is the only way of keeping cool. Mountains surround our apartment, acting as an oven. There is no air-conditioning and little breeze. It may not be the Grand Plage in St Jean de Luz but without the river life would be a lot less tolerable; sharing it with horses and goats is simply a bonus.

Mongolian of the day:- good evening :: oroin mend