Normal in Mongolian

Day: 37-38

Sunrise:
06:18/06:19

Sunset:
19:53/19:51

Total kilometers:
452

Soil condition:
Meadow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
24 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
24 °C

Temperature – Night:
5 °C

Latitude:
48°55’401”

Longitude:
103°39’459”

Maximum height:
1379 m above sea level

Something of a routine has entered our lives. Nevertheless, there is something different to do every day. Before we continue, we seal the seams of both tents, Tanja washes clothes and cooks something to eat. Ulzii hangs around, occasionally going up the hill to talk to his wife on the phone. In the afternoon we build a windproof writing place out of a tarpaulin, although I have no idea how reporting is supposed to work under these extreme weather conditions. Above all, it gets very cold on some days. At night, the thermometer drops to two degrees. We have to dress warmly for the guard shifts and if the temperatures continue to fall so rapidly, winter is not far away. Somehow we’re dreading the cold and somehow I’m a bit scared of the uncertain future and the coming winter. Perhaps fear is also the wrong word. I would perhaps describe it as great respect. Now that we have been in this country for five weeks, there are times when I long for a decent bed, a hot shower and a normal chair to sit on. Perhaps something traditionally German to eat or the luxury of fresh fruit for breakfast. But these are normal feelings that usually don’t become so dominant for us to lose the joy of traveling.

Sometimes Mongolians come by, enter the yurt without saying a word, sit cross-legged on the carpet and stare at us. To be honest, it makes me a little nervous. “Is that normal?” I ask Ulzii. “What do you mean?” “That a stranger comes into your house, sits down without saying a word, looks around, then gets up again after a while and leaves without saying a word?” “That’s normal in the country,” his answer amazes us. “Even in the city? I mean in U.B., for example? Can a stranger just walk into an apartment, sit down, have a look and then leave again?” “I think so,” he says, which is why I don’t know if Ulzii understands the word normal. Although his English has improved considerably since the first meeting, the conversation remains rudimentary. When two Mongolians come by again and behave normally, we offer them white bread with peanut butter. Both are filled to the brim with vodka. “Will you drink with us?” they ask, placing a full bottle on the table. As I don’t drink vodka, I decline with thanks. That doesn’t bother them. They decapitate the bottle and within ten minutes half of it is gone. “The bread tastes terrible, I can’t eat it,” says one of them and puts it on the table. “Peanut butter doesn’t seem to be her thing,” says Tanja. Another five minutes pass and they want to leave. I help the drunk guy up because he can’t manage it on his own. “They go hay cutting so that their animals have something to eat in winter,” explains Ulzii. “In this condition?” “It’s dangerous, but that’s the way it is,” Ulzii replies.

The next morning, Ulzii and Bilgee dismantle the large yurt. Tovuu comes by to store them somewhere. So our usual dwelling no longer exists. Feels strange. Regardless of this, the decision to set off tomorrow was made days ago. We are therefore spending the last few hours in Bilgees Camp and in this beautiful valley where many a yurt has already disappeared. Will people flee to the city at the beginning of September to escape the coming winter? We are undoubtedly late because of the extensive preparations.

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