It's a mild one

I looked out and was unable to tell whether the white stuff blowing about on the breeze was light snow or more polystyrene from the insulation used on the outside of the buildings. Sarah had set off for Luxembourg and I could still feel the tension, or I'd had way too much coffee. The staff winter party loomed and I was going to have to go alone. The air had thickened again after yesterday's brief respite and I just could not sit around waiting until it was time to prove that my suit no longer fitted me comfortably.
So checked the temperature -10c and then packed a small bag and set off for the mountain. I took the walking poles and put the ice spikes in the bag. And to quote Patagonia 'The more you know, the less you need'.  True in so many ways. The snow and ice are simply not here in the city but the hill looked a good bit whiter. Unwilling to run in the grey air I opted to hike it all (apart from a new bit of downhill into the ger camp). I am pretty certain I wouldn't have attempted this last year. I did not know the mountain so well as I do now but it was also just too cold to contemplate that amount of time out in the open. This winter is so mild.

It was a lovely hike up to the ridge.

looking back you can see the grey air hovering over the city - you cant see them but the ger district and hills to the north are completely swallowed

The ice/snow crystals were beautiful

The footing was better than I expected but I was glad of the poles.

There has been 'work' on the ridge.

looking North - four large holes 

and looking south there are similar looking 'platforms' some with big holes some without 

Having gone to check out the 'holes' I had a hard climb back up to the ridge to get back onto the trail. Needless to say as I was heading up I met some locals coming down. There was a group of young Mongolians mostly young ladies, beautifully turned out for a gentle walk to the restaurant. There were many different garbs but if I were to describe one, Ugg boots, jeans, and a fir trimmed hooded fashion parka, you get the picture. I'm sure they would have been given quite a telling off by the overly equipped trail walkers in other parts of the world. Inappropriate clothing - fool hardy in these conditions. Except that they were having a great time. Laughing, giggling, occasional shrieks of enjoyment. I felt seriously overly dressed in my 'technical' clothing and walking poles. I was having fun but not that much.

I have not used poles for years preferring not to bother with the faff and just keeping moving but as I was in no hurry I had them, and thoroughly enjoyed the extra security they provided. Maybe I should have traded my Rocklites for Ugg boots and done away with the poles.

Just over 3 hours later and I'm home, cold tired and relieved of the nervous tension for the moment. With Sarah away for the next 6 days and no news likely before her return I'm hoping the air stays relatively clear because I get the feeling I may need to get out and run or hike a bit more regularly than of late.

Details and a map here

In the hills

I've been up in the hills a bit recently, 3 times in the last week in fact (62.5km and 2400m of ascent) but it never gets old because it is never the same.

On Wednesday I met a friend at the bottom of the hill, say hi to Bill the Bactrian

Wednesday was a really funny weather day. We never saw the sun, it was windy but it was 28c all day until about 4pm when the temperature began to drop and I went out for a run.

The climb was, well upwards, and took about 30-minutes but what greeted me when I got out of the trees and reached the views was - unexpected to say the least. Not only had the wind picked up to gale force proportions but UB had disappeared.

I was not looking forward to descending into the sandstorm, but by the time I got down it had gone and things were calm. All through the 40 minute jog back to the apartment there was a very occasional drop of rain, until I walked into the apartment grounds. Then the skies opened. I'd been out 3 hours missed the sandstorm, missed the rain and got home without incident. Result.

I did the same route on Friday with Sarah. The rain had changed everything.

Trees had suddenly gone green and flowers were everywhere.

And UB was back - go back and look at the sandstorm picture - these two were taken from similar positions.

A lovely jog hike without the sense of impending doom that had dogged Wednesday.

Saturday I did a different route.

She danced down the trail spooking the foal a bit - would we see her later at the Scotch House?

We went over the top of the hill and started dropping down the other side towards a monastery but the trail became a little indistinct.

team inov-8 roclite

Gavin couldn't find anyone who would ship to Mongolia that stocked his size

We finished the trip out with a beer in the Irish Castle - except the beer was bad and there was a children's party on so we headed for the Scotch House - where there was Scottish country dancing. Seriously! And of course the boys all sat and drank while the girls were pressed into taking part.

Bye Bye Building Site

No more noise, no more dust, no more heavy machinery and gallopita gallopita machines running through the night. It has been fascinating watching this site in action though. Part of me will miss it. Not the part that likes peace and quiet. Not the part that likes to sleep through the night. And not the part that objects to the clouds of dust and debris which meant keeping the windows closed.

So they defrosted the building site about a month ago...

It was slow going at first, a few men a couple of diggers...then they demolished the shed and built it again somewhere else on the site. We couldn't quite work out why but as the site came slowly back to life it became very obvious.

We move out in about 3 weeks, they are likely to have the first couple of floors poured by then at this rate.

Shed visible in the fading daylight to the right just before construction stopped

...and it's gone...the site wakes...

there it is rebuilt...

looks like more underground carparking

keep making that rebar construction girls

we are going to need it

foundations of the next block being laid

and for the carpark

rebar in place wooden frame fixed time for the concrete

and here it comes

from there

to there

Add caption

and start the rebar knitting for the next level

A little detained (by a man with a gun) on a wonderful winter walk

It was a mild day, but with a cutting 10km wind dropping the -19C to around -30C. That said after walking through the park over the 'waste' ground and up the road to the river we turned into the wind and headed east for the first time. It was fun, there were a bunch of kids playing what we used to be call 'murder ball' on the ice. A kind of no rules rugby, they were having fun but it looked  both tough and cold.
We passed groups of men pruning/coppicing trees at the side of the river - probably collecting the sticks for something, but for what I have no idea. Further down the river the ice was regularly lying on the surface in glistening chunks, far prettier than the glistening vodka bottles that will replace them in the summer.

Now that's what I call an ice 'cube'

The stroll was pleasant despite the wind in the face. It was interesting to see the tracks cut into the snow both on the actual river and on the hillside to the south. Clearly the weather does not effect our Mongolian hosts as they continue to walk, play, ride and drive just about anywhere.

I wonder if the ice cracked before after or while the cars were using it...

The walk home was warmer and with the wind at our backs positively pleasant. However as we cut across the waste ground and back into the park we heard a shout from behind us and were eventually caught by a young man in uniform. He chirped away in Mongolian and was not for letting us go on our way. A quick phone call to a Mongolian speaker, and we handed over Sarah's phone and there was a lot more chirping. Then his tubby little mate turned up sporting a much more assured air and a holster containing something, might have been a pistol or he might just have been pleased to see us.  There was more chirping over Sarah's phone and we were marched back to the road. Our ID's were photographed, our bags searched and after yet more phone calls and translations we were sent on our way down the road. Apparently we had entered the land 'inappropriately' and had crossed protected land. The fact that I had been doing this at least twice a week since August and that we were quite literally walking in the footprints of  many many others seems to have escaped this particular 'guard'. At one point in our proxy communication it seems our translator threatened to have him reported to the human rights commission for detaining and searching us for no good reason. It was at this point that he said he would apologise for the inconvenience caused if we apologised for...well... being there.  Another expat was watching all this from across the road with a smile on his face and a beagle at his feet. Apparently this particular guard seems to like rousting expats and had 'detained' him  previously. Apparently the waste land is protected land and despite the fact it is scheduled to become part of the park within the next 10 years, it is at present under the protection of the military and this particular member of the military takes his 'protection' duties very seriously. It is after all his job so why not, I take my job seriously. Oh well it's all experience.  Personally I think our detention may have been something to do with a show of power to the largest group I have ever seen walking up the road - at least 30 young ladies were strolling at the side of the road and I think maybe these two young soldiers just wanted to be noticed. Sadly for our new soldier friends the girls had gone by the time they got us back to their hut at the roadside.

Haircut

So Mongolians don't get their first haircut until they are 3 or 5 years old for boys 4 or 6 for girls. The date of the first haircut is decided by the year of birth (Chinese animal year), the current year and finding an auspicious day. There is a whole ceremony and ritual surrounding this first haircut.

We recently had the honour of being invited to one such ceremony, it was the day after the party in the country.

We arrived at the apartment, to find the table laden with food and people sitting drinking milk tea and eating.
We were invited to sit and given the tea. Nothing can happen in any household until the guests have drunk milk or milk tea. Then despite the full table more food came out of the kitchen. Apart from the great salads there was some of the best buuz I have yet tasted. There was also lots to drink, vodka for the men and wine for the women. If you want to stop or slow down then leave your glass over half full or it gets topped up. hic.

After a while we were invited to actually cut the hair. The ceremony had started with the first cut around 7 in the morning when family began to arrive, at that time he had waist length hair. It was shoulder length when we arrived at  about 1:30. The men were the first to cut, oldest first. A blue khadak had been tied to the scissors and the khadak was made into a kind of bag at the other end. You cut the hair placed it in the pocket at the end of the khadak and then gave the young man a toy to replace the hair taken and/or the parents money. Some of the toys were elaborate some simple. Once everyone in the room had cut some hair and made their offering it was back to the table for more food and of course more vodka.

Only now the rules had changed - you were given a shot glass of vodka and told to sing. The glass and the choice of song would then move clockwise, everything goes clockwise here. Somewhat unfortunately I was given the honor of starting off proceedings. After much havering I gave a quick rendition of Auld lang syne sunk my shot and the process carried on around the table. We called for a taxi and sat listening to the Mongolians sing, one by one the glass moved round the table. The holder of the glass would spark up a song and they would all join in, then the shot was downed, the glass filled and passed to the next person. This particular ceremony is not restricted to hair cutting, it happens when ever a bunch of them get together. They have a culture of song here, everyone sings, all of the time. Unfortunately the taxi did not arrive in time to save me from receiving the shot glass for a second time. This time however I took the opportunity to take the 3 shot penalty for not singing and the bottle holder took great delight in making sure the glass was very full on all three occasions. We left at about 4:00pm and at about 5:30 they called a halt to proceedings and took Tushig to the barbers where his head was clean shaved.

It was a great day out but after a weekend partying with the locals I was well and truly done in.