The circle was complete, and we were back where it all had started, some three weeks earlier. UB offers little in way of points-of-interest per capita, but the Mongolian metropolis still has its own, very non-superficial, charm.
Sukhbaator Square serves as the hub from which all else spreads. The gigantic flat paved rectangle is sometimes packed to the brim with people, sometimes so empty you'd expect some tumbleweed to come floating by any minute, but almost always there are a bunch of kids riding the wee RC cars.
Wandering willy-nilly through the city, we took in its special city planning and architecture. Contrary to other megacities in slightly poorer countries, UB doesn't have a city centre of posh new, well-kept buildings, neighboured by a picturesque Olde Town with narrow alleyways and historical houses, surrounding by blocks of ever-fading levels of exclusiveness, from decent office- and shopbuildings down to downright slum. No, in UB new sits right next to old, steel-and-glass next to stone-and-wood and lavish next to rustique, all in its typical architectural style of greyish-squarish.
Zainsan monument, a Soviet era concrete structure commemorating Mongolia's aiding the Red Army during WWII, lies atop a hill some 5 km outside the city proper, and offers a good hike to get there and a nice view of the skyline once you're there. On the way back, the Winter Palace of Boghd Khan was well worth a visit, with its ger made from the fleece of 150 snow leopards amongst other curiosities exhibited.Other sites that were visited were the National History Museum and the vast Black Market, home of the cheap Ray-Ban knock-offs, clothes, kitchenware and all you would need to build a ger.
These were days for relaxation and for catching up lost internet time. But these were also days for goodbyes, as our gang were to split up. Only five of us were to take the train to Beijing, with a sixth rejoining us there, and the rest of the group were on their merry way home. A night a the opera, in which an amazing showcase of Mongolian cultural traditions (including, but not limited to, a contortionist, throat-singing and playing of the horse fiddle), followed by a farewell dinner and afterparty at Archie the truck to finish all the leftover booze concluded our time together.
And so, after a bit too many days in UB, five Dragomanners took a minivan to the train station, boarding the train to China. Or, you know, getting stopped at the border due to some terrible visa mix-up.
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