Unexpected – night-time visit

Day: 373

Sunrise:
05:48

Sunset:
21:02

Total kilometers:
1722

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
27°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
22 °C

Temperature – Night:
10 °C

Latitude:
49°42’773”

Longitude:
100°11’497”

Maximum height:
1492 m above sea level

For days now I’ve been resisting asking our neighbors how much money they want for the water they’ve been pumping out of the ground for us and our animals for a month. Of course, we are not concerned with the few euros we are happy to pay, but with a possibly exaggerated asking price. This would once again cast a gloomy light on the fantastic time we spent together. To be honest, I’m now really addicted to harmony, love and honesty. We would like to keep Rezindorj and Gadimaa in good memory. If the two of them treat us fairly at the end of our life together, we would like to give them my car battery as a gift. At 85,000 tugrik (€52), it is worth ten times the price of the water and would be a wonderful thank you to the family. “Oglooniimend”, (good morning) we greet Gadimaa and Rezindorj as they enter their yurt. Gadimaa immediately serves us fresh, salted milk tea, dried cheese, cookies, white bread, creamy snacks and sugar. We say thank you and take a cautious approach. “Ide, ide”, (eat, eat) Gadimaa urges us with her loud voice to take more. After the appropriate minutes of decorum, Tanja says: “We will soon be leaving you and heading for Erdenet. We would like to thank you for your hospitality. It has been a pleasant time here with you in the fertile valley.” As soon as Tanja has spoken, I get up and hand Rezindorj a tin of snuff. Tanja gives Gadimaa and her daughter Dalai a small perfume each. The three children jumping around in the yurt get sweets. Our hosts thank you very much. After a few minutes of silence, Tanja says, “Thank you also for the water for us and our animals. What do you get for it?” Gadimaa and Rezindorj look at each other for a moment. “For the water? Nothing. We get nothing,” replies Gadimaa. “Nothing?” I ask because I think I’ve misheard. “Ügüj we get nothing,” she repeats clearly. Tschin setgeleesee bajrlalaa”, (Thank you very much) we thank you as if from the same mouth. Because we have rarely experienced such generosity in this form before, it takes a load off our minds. I have goose bumps and tears well up in my eyes. “Thank you so much,” I repeat again. My heart really starts to tremble. It feels as if a protective hand is sliding underneath to hold it. An incredibly pleasant feeling. The water is certainly not a huge gift or very valuable in the conventional sense, but for us it has a symbolic character that comes at an important time. It is the moment when I almost lost faith in humanity, at least Mongolian humanity. And now we are so surprised. “Do you need a car battery? I have an almost new, very good battery that is too heavy for the horse journey. We’d like to give it to you,” I ask Rezindorj. “A car battery? But yes, I could really use one.” “I’ll get it quickly from our tent,” I say and run off full of energy. A few minutes later, I hand him the 20 kilogram piece. Rezindorj mumbles a few words and puts it away. “You were expecting more enthusiasm?” asks Tanja. “Hm, well, a few words at least. But what the hell. That’s all right,” I reply. Again we are asked to sit on the bed and again Gadimaa pours tea into the ceramic bowls. Then Rezindorj and Gadimaa go to their altar on which they pay homage to Buddha, open the padlock of a painted chest and take something out. “A gift,” says Rezindorj with a broad grin and hands me a fine bottle of vodka packed in a special box. “For me?” I ask. “But yes,” says Rezindorj, still grinning. I thank him again and my hair stands up all over my body. Gadimaa now approaches Tanja and hands her a fine box of Dutch cookies, a bottle of orange juice and dried meat for the journey, also pulling the corners of her mouth upwards into a broad smile. Now we are sitting there, somewhat ashamed. Just half an hour ago we thought the two of them were taking advantage of us with a water price that was too high and now this. What can you say? There are also some damn nice Mongolians. Probably even many of them. Did we just have a run of bad luck? We are aware of the tradition of having to give a gift in return, but our hosts did not let themselves get carried away. They were very generous. It probably makes no sense to analyze the situation in this case either. You don’t have to get to the bottom of everything. As a traveler, you experience unpleasant things, but very often also pleasant ones. It is important to accept the difference between peoples and their cultures. If you have difficulties with this, it is better to stay at home. And yet Tanja and I are only human. People who get scared when dark figures stand in front of the tent in the middle of the night and want to steal horses. We are people who get angry when we are lied to or cheated but also happy when good things happen to us. This book, which is filled with new experiences and adventures every day, is a special document as it is written down in the moment or shortly after the experience. So all the emotions, whether highs or lows, are portrayed unvarnished. I don’t mince my words and write honestly what I think or feel, even if one or two of my statements might be taken the wrong way. I cannot and do not want to take this into consideration. It is important to me to record our travels and expeditions as we experience them.

Nocturnal visit

23:45. I lie under the canopy of the awning and look out at the rain clouds that occasionally creep over the full moon. Whenever the curtain of clouds opens, pale light illuminates the high valley. The mountains that surround us appear like silhouettes that stand out against the threatening darkness. Sheep and goats bleat and bleat. Rezindorj and Gadimaa have driven their herd into the wooden enclosure next to their yurt, as they do almost every night. Something has woken them from their slumber. They swarm around excitedly. I listen spellbound into the night. A dog barks excitedly. It is Ilchelaugsuren’s snappy bait, which he has to hang on the chain every time we visit him. “Has he discovered anything unusual?” I ask myself. But since our neighbors’ dogs bark frequently and usually for no reason, I discard the idea. Cows and yaks moo or make strange grunting noises. The rattle of a moped is carried across the valley by the light wind. I sit up and see the faint yellow light of the headlamp eating its way through the night. Then the beam of light withers more and more until it seems to dissolve into nothingness. After a long day, I settle back down on my sleeping mat, sighing softly, gaze at the clouds and light of the sky for a while and close my eyes.

Feeling a slight vibration, I open my songs. Not knowing where it is coming from, I concentrate and focus my senses. The shaking gets louder, louder and louder. Mogi starts to bark. “A herd,” the enlightening thought crosses my brain. Then I hear voices whose sound waves reach my ears through the clear night. I straighten up, but can’t see anything. Mogi looks to the east. Looking around the tent, I see a large herd of horses galloping towards me in the glaring beam of my headlamp. The shaking of the ground is now real, no longer imaginary. Perhaps 100 horses’ bodies chase past about 50 meters behind our tent. “What’s that?” asks Tanja. “A herd of horses,” I reply. Then I see the two men who are responsible for the hunt through the night. With loud calls, they drive the animals past us. I chase after them with a beam of light to signal our vigilance. Just seconds later, the shepherds pull on the reins of their mounts and gallop straight towards us. “Two men! They’re coming!” I shout to Tanja, who shoots out of the tent as if stung by a tarantula, pepper gas in hand and head torch. “Woof! Woof! Woof!”, our guard dog behaves like crazy. His chain clanks, but does not pull the iron stake out of the ground. Just a few meters in front of us, the men pull on the reins again, causing the horses to rebel and come to a halt. The moment is bizarre. You’d think two robber barons from the Dark Ages had galloped through a time warp to decapitate us with their drawn swords. The Mongolians are blinded by our headlamps and raise their hands in front of their faces for protection. “Leave it on,” I say to Tanja unnecessarily, not taking the glaring beam of light off their faces. One of the young men, about 20 years old, fires a question at us in a firm voice. “I don’t understand you!” I reply, bending down towards the pile of stones next to the tent entrance.

The problem in this situation is not knowing whether the two men are well-disposed towards us or hostile. The probability of knowing normal shepherds in front of us is high. But at this time of day? Who drives a herd of horses from A to B at midnight? In this case, our experiences are downright devastatingly unfavorable for the two nocturnal, unannounced rough fellows. If they get off the horse I will let Mogi off the chain and throw a stone. But what if they are not thieves and the stone hits? There is no time to discuss these questions. Again the man hammers out a question. His voice is harsh. Not fitting for a friendly visitor at 24:00. “I don’t understand you!” I reply in a harsh voice, in an aggressive tone that is meant to show the two of them better not to get off the horse. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” barks Mogi, baring his teeth. Again the stranger stubbornly says something, again I also stubbornly parry with an angry reply that clearly shows the boys to attack them if they are up to no good. “Let’s go,” says the second suddenly. It only takes a wink as the horses disappear into the night as if ignited by spurs and follow the galloping herd. The loud laughter of the troublemakers flutters in like waves of surf only to seep away in the darkness.

“Do you think they were potential thieves?” asks Tanja. “Who is to know. Maybe they were just young hot-headed shepherds. The fact is, the time of their visit was strange. “Man oh man, you can’t find peace in this country. My heart is still pounding in my throat,” says Tanja, retreating back into the sleeping cabin, while I go back to my guard posts and take a long time to fall asleep.

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