Cosmetic Surgery Blog

When Westerners make comments about Outer Mongolia they often are making a reference to the most remote area imaginable. Similarly, the term BFE refers a derogatory description pertaining to the middle of nowhere in Egypt. Well, I can assure you Outer Mongolia is as remote as it comes. However, if you ask me, Inner Mongolia is just as remote.

They may not have that many restrooms available, but by God, they have spectacular cellphone coverage. I was able to talk and text on my iPhone along the highways and even dirtroads outside of small towns and villages. Well, until it, with all of my other belongings, was stolen out of our tough Volkswagon Furgone (which reminds me of an off-road VW van) that held all of our belongings while we were on horseback on day four of our trip. Ahhh, the beginning of an already challenging trip.  But, I get ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

Why Mongolia?
My bestfriend, and her daughter and I have very similar birthdays (her 16 yr old daughter is May 21st, I am May 22nd and my bestfriend, the 23^rd. Well, we thought it would be a great idea to go on a horseback riding trip through a company, named Equitour. Equitour is actually a great tour company and had been used by my friend many times, all over the world with much satisfaction. Well, her first idea was trekking Tibet. And while a fabulous idea, I honestly did not feel like acclimating and trekking with the two of them for 12 days. I would rather get a gynecological exam every day for 12 days straight than trek Tibet in August. Apparently horses were not an option in much of Tibet so she chose Mongolia, naturally. Mongolia, having more horses than people, sounded like a fabulous idea for horse lovers like ourselves so we booked. Or rather, she let a travel agent book everything. Mistake #1. We didn’t even have seats next to one another on the plane! We had to bribe other passengers to trade seats. Plus, on the return flight we had layovers in Korea and Tokyo and I don’t mean just a couple of hours—forever! However, the company Equitour uses in Mongolia, Nomads Expeditions, is very popular and many celebrities (like Julia Roberts when she lived with locals for 3 weeks) use them with no problem.

Day 1: Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
So, we actually make it to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia in one piece and we can’t find our guide. Great. Well, our female guide, Uyanga (who kicks butt!), shows back up about a half an hour later (we are the ones , in actuality, who are late) and we are relieved to finally be going to the hotel for a shower very shortly. We, along with all of our baggage, are herded into our tough little Volkswagon Furgone.  Ahhh the Mighty Furgone, this vehicle can go through anything and is very much like an off-roading version of the VW van.

The Zaluuchuud Hotel in central Ulaanbaatar is a three star hotel that really isn’t that great of a hotel. And it cost us the bargain price of $215. per night. It had poor service and even poorer food. For instance, the vegetable soup was the same as the French Onion soup, although all the vegetables except the onions were strained from the vegetable soup. I kid you not. Dinner was cheaply made and cost us over $90. But included a bottle wine. No problem, we knew we weren’t staying at the Four Seasons, I will survive. We bid our guide adieu as we were to meet her in the morning.

Day 2: The Long Ride to the Lake
We get up, grab the last shower we will see for several days, eat breakfast (eww) and meet our guide and driver. They cram all of our luggage, mine being an Osprey trekking pack filled to the brim with clothes, medications, electronics, money, credit cards, my passport, and all of my toiletries—essentially my entire life—plus a North Face bag full of riding gear, food (including About 2 ½ DOZEN Clif bars my boyfriend insisted that I take), and toilet paper into the back of the Furgone. We are on our way…

Well-paved roads are a commodity in Mongolia. Now, don’t get me wrong, there is a full-scale super highway going up across even the most remote areas of Mongolia in lightning speed which is going to change the way of life as they currently know it. However, it is not yet complete. The road we took consisted of mostly cracked paved blacktop to a pothole-graced dirt road. My friend asks for 1 of my only in-case-of=accidental-injury-Percocets to ease her backpain. I am reluctant as I cannot take vicodin and whan if I get thrown?? Whatever. I give it to her.

SIX HOURS of dirtroad potholes and you will begin to lose your mind. You get edgy and you start arguing with anyone who even  looks at you. Your friends aren’t even categorized as people anymore, they become outlets for your pent up aggression. In fact, it becomes almost “fun” to torment them. It very much evolves into some sort of sick illusion similar to that Bus Bunny cartoon where two starving castaways and Bugs are marooned on an island.  Then one castaway begins to imagine the other as a hamburger and the other imagines his friend as a hot dog. Pretty soon you are contemplating murder, or even jumping from the moving vehicle, and then it happens. The faint burning smell. For almost a moment you think you have developed a tumor along the way from all of the brain-jarring potholes, and then you see it. It is not imagined, it is very real. Your Furgone is on fire. We roll to a stop and our driver rips off the dashboard which surprisingly comes easily right off as though this sort of thing happens often enough to necessitate an easily removable dashboard. Well, as it turns out, it does indeed happen quite often. Reality hits. We are, sadly, broken down on the side of a dirt road IN OUTER MONGOLIA.

Better Cellphone Coverage Than L.A.
Absent-mindedly I decide to make a phone call to my boyfriend to tell him about our little mishap. Oh. My. God. I have cellphone coverage—cellphone coverage that surely will cost me a small fortune when I return to the states. Roaming charges in Mongolia can’t be cheap . I didn’t talk for an incredibly long time, but long enough to start calculating charges. I once announced my engagement to only a handful of people last January from the Bahamas and I came home to a $300 bill. Thus far, it is our first true snag and at this point it only adds to our adventure. In hindsight, our naivety amuses me. We eventually get it started and we are back on our way with 2 ½ more hours of travel to get to the lake—our first camping area.

Well, my friend suggests we bed down after about an hour of travel because her back is hurting her from all of the potholes and off-roading. So we do, and since it is dark and we have no time for setting up camp we eat fried hotdogs and cold mushrooms from a can. Yum. I, of course, break open a bottle of gin and have myself a gin and tonic, sans limes. My friend takes another of my remaining 3 Percocets and she goes to bed. I brush my teeth with bottled water and I am off to sleep myself.

Until I wake up with the worst stomach pains ever (well, except for when I was in Cambodia). There is no such thing as a bathroom, and since we camped after dark, I have no idea of my surroundings. I take off into the sandy Steppe with flashlight and TP in hand until the lights of another broken down Furgone in the distance disrupts my activities. In my haste, I take off back to the tent without my flashlight since my white butt is now lit up like a Christmas tree from the headlights of the Furgone. I have to turn back. That’s no ordinary flashlight, it’s a SureFire 3P personal entry light. And as luck would have it, the Furgone starts and before I know it, it is gone across the Steppe. I am left with no light, crawling aimlessly across the sand with my hands in front of me search and rescue style as if I were on a low visibility dive. Please God, I pray, do not let me put my hands in my own mess. Thankfully I connected with the cold steel of my flashlight instead. I headed back to camp.

Day 3: My First Morning on the Steppe
I wake up before everyone else and I realize I am not in the middle of nowhere; there is a HUGE powerline system sprawling a few hundred feet from us. Great. Now I really will develop a tumor. But it is peaceful and I watch some hawks or falcons being chased by smaller birds. The expanse is actually humbling in the morning light. The thankful for the quiet I am afforded and I am graced with renewed vigor. I cannot wait for breakfast.

Breakfast consisted of fruit, some instant coffee, some packaged pastries, some bread with Nutella and some salami. I opt for coffee and some bread and peanut butter I brought. We finish up, I brush my teeth as my friend proceeds to throw horse poop at me because I said she was short. We are in good spirits, back in the Furgone we go. More potholes and a longer trip than anticipated, my friend takes yet another Percocet; I have 1 left.

Destination No. 1: Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur Lake
We get to the lake a few hours later and the view is spectacular. There are some “gers” (or yurts, which are white, round tent-looking homes where Mongolians live on the Steppe) here and there and some free range horses and cows. My friend literally begs for my last Percocet, leaving me pain medication-free in the event I am injured, and she takes a nap. The rest of us meet up with our horseman, Dorja, and we choose our horses. I chose a very dark, almost black, horse and immediately name him Tundra Wookie because of a personal joke I have with my boyfriend. We go for a pre-lunch ride for about an hour and fifteen minutes and return to a great meal of, get this, Mongolian BBQ. I am serious, just like the stuff we get at the Americanized restaurants in the states. Oh, and a really good soup and salad was served as well. And guess what, gin and tonics! I have never drank so much in my life. It is terribly rude to say no to either food or drink in Mongolia when offered, and they offer you alcohol all times of the day. It is a wonder I remember my trip at all.

We finish lunch and my friend decides to go for a post-lunch ride with Dorja, and the rest of us decide to keep drinking and play cards. We are not leaving via horseback until the morning, so drinking games seem logical at this point.

Then the kitchen truck driver breaks out the infamous Airag. Airag is a tool of the devil, I am sure of it. It is made from fermented mare’s milk and is alcoholic. Imagine white moonshine made from horse milk that tastes like it sounds but with an odd sour coconut water taste. Not coconut-flavored, mind you. Drink some milk after it has soured and it is similar. They had it stored in a motor oil container. Right on.  I’m gonna be sick for sure.  If I even live.

My friend gets back and we are all three sheets to the wind and ready for bed. Time to eat again. Dinner consisted of beef and potatoes, mmmmmm. We had a few more gin and tonics, told ghost stories, and we fed a hedgehog some pound cake then went to bed.

Day 4: Blazing Mongolian Saddles
We are one day behind.  So, we saddle up and take off across the Steppe for the first time.  Stray dogs are pretty  much everywhere, although I think they are actually owned by neighboring Mongolians and just go from camp to camp to eat the available scraps.  One follows us for quite a until Dorja rides back to shoo him away and catches up.  We ride from a few hours and the kitchen truck meets us along a road where we eat and rest. 

We get back on the horses and head out to the next stop, which will be camp for the night.  The ride is fun, we are almost giddy to think we are in the middle of Mongolia on horseback.  Until I get heartburn.  Trotting for a half an hour straight is not fun when you are about to vomit.  It is the sardine salad and it hates me.  My bestfriend, being the Commandant she so rightly deserves the nickname of, drives me past my patience.  I love her but I am seriously ILL.  We gallop f-o-r-e-v-e-r and run through herds of sheep and goats and I am just about ready to die.  I drink water to stifle the acid until I am even more ready to puke.  Please God, let me fall off this horse and die of a brain hemorrhage so that I do not feel sick anymore.  I am ready to give up.  I attempt pleading while galloping behind them and no one takes me seriously.  So I stop, vomit into my mouth, say. “Are you guys happy now??” I take a swig of water out of my trusty Camelbak, spit and ride on.  At this point, I begin re-evaluating our friendship.

Destination No. 2: Onon River
We get to our next destination next to the Onon river and I am thrilled to find out that we, if we wish, can take a shower!  A river-water shower which has been heated to lukewarm by the sun, that is.  But, I’ll take it.  Washing my hair was an outer body experience.  Who knew lukewarm, river water could feel so good.  My friend’s daughter and I, gave ourselves a pedicure so we wouldn’t suffer any ingrown toenail issues. 

I found a cow skull and decorated my tent area to make it my own.  I have moved in, so to speak.  Tent Sweet Tent.  This is my tent.  There are many like it but this one is mine.  My tent is my best friend…

The Airag Drinking Game
REGRET.  That’s all I can think of when I think of this night.  I got drunk on gin and tonic and then started on the Airag.  For God’s sake I was singing in Mongolian by the end of the night.  I even smoked a Mongolian cigarette.  *horrors*

We played a singing game where we must sing a song we knew by heart and then everyone claps and you drink your drink.  My first song was “Tomorrow” from Little Orphan Annie.  Everything was fine until we broke out the iPods.  Even when I sang “Someone to Watch Over Me” (the Linda Ronstadt version), I was okay.  Then I sang Evanescence’s “My Immortal” at top volume with the earphones in one ear and it was all over.  I was told people winced and the horseman got up to make sure the horses hadn’t bolted.  I am not exaggerating, I even closed my eyes  thinking I was the next Amy Lee apparently.  Next thing I knew I was singing in Mongolian, drinking more Airag and being urged to go to sleep.  We were never asked to play the singing game again for the rest of the trip. 

 Day 5: Blazing Saddles II
Woke up to a Nomad chasing down an unbroken, very spooked horse that had gotten separated from his herd.  It took him about half an hour to finally catch him. 

We had a pretty good breakfast of crepes, scrambled eggs, instant coffee, more bread and peanut butter or Nutella, and some granola I brought with me, served with *yuck* warm milk.  After breakfast I dug some teeth out of my decorative cow skull for my friend’s daughter and off we went for another day of riding.  Riding from hell that is.

We started out on a pretty cool stretch of Steppe.  Saw a lot of various animal skulls and bones, a colt’s hoof and a lot of hawks flying about.  The ride was nice.  Until the horses all developed this weird head bobbing motion.  We couldn’t figure it out.  We didn’t see any flies, the wind may have been bothering them but why would it?  Maybe an allergen?  We couldn’t figure it out but it was very annoying.  Hours of head bobbing until we started galloping across the Steppe.  We had to be very careful, and in many areas only trot because of the many ermine holes everywhere.  The horses might break a leg if they fell into one at too fast a pace.  When we finally stopped, they were still bobbing their heads frantically.  We met the kitchen truck for lunch and thought, maybe they had dust in their noses??  So they got watered and we ate lunch and still the head bobbing went on once we remounted. 

We took off across a sandy area of Steppe, which was more like desert, and had several hours to go before the next camp in the city of Khara-Khorum.  I had filled my 3 liter Camelbak only halfway based upon my own needs and off we went.  Well, my friends had no water and I had to share.  Well, so much for conservation.  We ran out of water and decided to gallop across for the last few hours, the kitchen truck and Furgone were no where in sight.  So, we took a short cut instead of near the road, maybe they broke down again?  We were attempting to get to the Temple at Khara-Khorum before it had closed because my friend didn’t want to travel in the heat by horseback the next day, and it would put us back on schedule.  I was exhausted, irritable and rethinking everything by this point.  But, on we rode. 

Destination No. 3: The City of Khara-Khorum
We got to the temple at 5:55 PM—five minutes before they were to have closed.  Well, normally.  Because we wanted to tour the temple, it was closed.  As you can see, I am incredibly torqued at this time. 

Uyanga called the caravan because they were supposed to be there to meet us by now for sure.  They were nowhere in sight so we laid on the grass in front of the temple to wait.

The Stolen Backpack
The Furgone showed up and then the bad news.  Our guide, Uyanga,  tells me that a pack had been “lost”.  I knew it had to be my Osprey pack because it was on top of the pile of conventional luggage and was almost cylindrical in shape because of the amount of stuff it was packed with.  I am pissed when I find out it is, in fact, my own which is missing.  This was unacceptable.  EVERYTHING was in that Osprey pack.  Was my North Face dufflebag gone?  No, of course not, because apparently I need 3 rolls of toilet paper, some peanut butter, some granola and more Clif bars than I can shake a stick at more than I need money and a passport!!!  So the adventure began.

Our driver is in an obvious state of distress because it is on his head and reputation.  This is only the 4th time he has worked with Nomads and his job depended upon his ability to care for our belongings.  He was frantic, and I had no qualms with him over it  Things do happen when you travel.

I immediately found the copy of my passport and other documents in my North Face bag in the event I had to go back to the U.S. Embassy in Ulaanbaatar.  The crew of both vehicles, and our guide started scouring the city, alerting the local media, police, military, etc.  An announcement was made on the radio and television station that there was a reward for its safe return, no questions asked.  Although I had more money in that pack than I did left over to offer as a reward.  I was mostly worried about my passport, iPhone and credit cards.  I just wanted to call my boyfriend and tell him what happened because I knew he’d be worried that I had not called in a few days.  I had not lost my composure as of yet but it was beginning to simmer.

 The tents were erected and the horseman, and Luna our camp cook, had stayed behind with us. The Nomads staff had been gone for quite some time, it was getting dark.  I took a half of a Xanax and went and laid down in my tent with a borrowed sleeping bag on a horse blanket. Luna made us some soup and a plate of beef and onions with mashed potatoes and brought it to my tent. I went to sleep before anyone came back to camp preparing myself mentally for the long trip back to the Embassy.

To Be Continued…