Nadaam it!

The buses to Ulanbaator were somehow fully booked, as were the trains, and so I was stuck with a decision: Grab the one seat available on the bus next morning, thereby missing a much-awaited day-trip to lake Baikal*, or stay in Russia two-three days more than intended, thereby missing the start of my booked and paid-for overlanding tour. As the orange truck that was to be my home for the next six weeks would for certain be deep in the wilderness, with no means of communication, by the time I was to enter Mongolia I hardly had much of a choice: I set my alarm and boarded the south-bound bus next morning.

Luck favours the well prepared, it is said. I thought I was prepared enough, as all the talk on teh interwebs were clear on the easyness of getting a bus from Ulan-Ude to Ulaanbaator. However, as the vehicle closed in on the Mongolian capitol it became clear that there was a reason for all the eagerness to travel here: Horns were honking, flags and banners flew from every car, people's faces were painted in the red-and-blue of the flag or the mongolian sigil. The feast of Nadaam was about to kick off.

Nadaam is the annual celebration of the three national sports of Mongolia: Archery, horseracing and wrestling. Everyone and their great-aunt pilgrimage to UB for the occasion, and there I was, bang in the middle of it. As such, I laid aside the vain attempts at visiting any of the many museums and other sites (bar a visit to the buddhist museum round the corner) and instead joined in on the festivities. A concert and massive disco at the main square, with a big-arse fireworks display as a finale and visiting two of the sports events: archery and horseracing. The wrestling took place at the stadium and required extremely sold-out tickets to watch, but the others were free for all.

With the dust showered off and freshly stacked with bits and pieces for my next part of the journey, I joined the 21-man strong horde that was going to explore the utter wilderness of Mongolia for the next three weeks. Three weeks of hiking, horseback riding, bushcamping and socialising were right around the corner. Or, you know, right after the next dune, as there are basically no corners in Mongolia.

*)Fjodor Bajkalsjön?