The birthday party

(Roughing it)

Today is my birthday. 28th to be precise. I've been using this age for the past two months but the actual date is this very day!

I am awoken from a much deserved sleep by unnatural noises nearby the tent. I can hear the sound of horses feet at trot on the soft ground coming closer. With that a young voice singing loudly. The song is occasionally broken with a loud 'Hey!', clearly an effort to wake up the inhabitant of the strange shaped tent. I am reluctant though to fully awaken my mind yet, turn my body around and tuck my head deeper into the sleeping bag.

'Hey!' the person out there is persistent. But so am I - after another cold night getting up at eight is simply too early. So I pretend I am not there and try to remember the dream I had.

You cannot win this game when your opponent is a child though and after five minutes of my mind getting more and more awake with each shout I have to admit losing and unzip the tent to see who dares to disturb me.

It is a child indeed. A boy with a big grin making its way to the front of the tent. And sitting himself down a foot away from my face leaving the horse to itsself yet still holding it by the reigns.

Ah, privacy.. this concept is really nonexistent here but although I would have liked the morning to myself I do not dare to shoo the kid away.

'Hey, kid. You couldn't be any louder, could you?', I dare to complain. He grins even more and responds with a few Mongolian questions. At this stage of conversation I always assume I am being asked where I am from and where I am going so I supply this information in my broken Mongolian.

The boy seems satisfied but is not willing to move an inch. His face still lit up observes my body three quarters still in my red sleeping bag. Ok, time to get up then. As I touch the zip on the sleeping bag the sound startles the horse. The boy looses grip on the reigns and off the horse goes galloping away..

So maybe some privacy afterall? No, the boy shares a big smile and shrugs his shoulders: Oh well, I can always get it later, I can hear him think.

By this time I am out of the tent stretching myself in the morning chill. It is a good morning, the sun is already quite high up and I can feel it's rays warming my face. It's gonna be a good birthday, I think to myself.

'Here kid, have some', I say to my company as I hand him a bag of biscuits I acquired in Tosontsengel two days ago. They sell them by weight here and I can rarely restrain myself from getting some. With this diet I'm soon gonna need to change my skinny jeans for a looser fit!

The kid puts a biscuit in his mouth and continues smiling while chewing. I get out my cooking gear to boil some water for my morning coffee. The boy shows great interest in everything I do and has the need to take all the objects in his hands before I can use them. The water is being boiled and the kid goes off to collect his horse since the herd of sheep and goats he is looking after has wandered off in the wrong direction.

I finally have a few minutes to myself. Sipping morning coffee I recollect the past week and wonder at how happy and lucky I am at being here. Not every one spends their birthday in the Mongolian steppe that's for sure! I do not particularily mind being alone on this day but I would have loved to talk to someone on the phone. There is however no signal coverage here, hopefully that'll change when I get out of the valley. - It still surprises me that there are mobile operators here and so cheap too - covering such a wide and mountainous area for only about 2 million people seems hardly worth while to me. -

The kid is back for some more biscuits and some more inquisition. He clearly does not mind I do not understand as he continues the stream of questions. He is apparently one of the believers in that increasing loudness brings understanding. As he starts shouting in my ear he is definitely getting on my nerves now and I decide to pack up camp without having breakfast.

When I'm finally on the road the kid wants to accompany me but has other duties to attend to and I am not willing to wait.. I press his hand in a manly handshake and give him my farewells. As I walk away I wonder how it is being a herdsman at the age of 10. And how would I turn out being raised in this remote place when the highlight of what is probably the season is a lone foreigner passing by. A nice kid though, thanks for the company.

After stacking up on water in a a little ger compound with at least a dozen eyes following my departure I am finally on the road. No cars in sight again but it is early morning and a different day. The map says it is a main road so traffic is surely a matter of time.

I decide to have breakfast as I am waiting and make a few notes in my man-diary. The sun is now standing tall and I am forced to take some of my clothes off. It seems a good season to be traveling Mongolia: it is rarely too hot and the cold is still bearable. The discomfort of not being able to take a shower is virtually not existent since one does not sweat. And the abundance of lakes and rivers, although fairly chilly, makes a good bath when the sun is high in the sky.

As I am meditating over personal hygiene in the steppe a truck appears on a horizon and soon enough I am being taken further west. The truck's destination is the same as mine but I have another route planned wanting to see the world's most northerly sand dunes and Mongolia's biggest salt lake so I am getting off in this little village about 50 kilometers ahead.

When we get a flat tire about ten kilometers down the road I get off to help the truck drivers. My help is in the end resorted to standing around and passing my flask of vodka around to take the edge of the incredible cold western wind. Within 15 minutes we're back on the road and I am pleased for the warmth of the cabin. The weather here really changes every few kilometers. Bloody continental climate!

As we climb to the top of the last hill I catch the first sight of Nomrog, the village I am to get off in. Surrounded by tall rocky mountains from the north and the east that turn into a valley closed off with another mountain range down south the village is built on a dry and rocky hill side rather then in the green valley bellow which gives it a somewhat dark appearance. A heavy rain cloud towards the northwest making it's way east casts a  shadow over it just accentuating it's sinister appearance. I can feel my blood pulse increasing: Man, this truly is the end of the world!

The truck stops in the middle of the village and the drivers get off to untie my backpack from the roof and to get some supplies from the near by shop. I follow the example and with my backpack securely on my back I get in the shop to replenish the supplies. They have no bread here so I have to do with some sweat pastry whose 'natural' ingredients allow it to be stocked for months.

Good bye and thanks, I wave the truck off. What lovely guys - didn't even consider asking for money.

As I walk westwards to the end of the village following my compass I greet the few people I meet. I openly share the destination of my journey when I am asked and get a few friendly nods and smiles. This is quite alright and when I pass a long concrete building whose surroundings suggest a school I think to myself this is not as bad a place as it had seemed.

When the road makes a slight curve to the north I sight a petrol station about 50 meters in front of me. This is my hitching spot, I note to myself and I make my way forward after taking my camera out to capture what is unfolding in front of me. The sky has turn darker and I watch the menacing looking cloud advancing. The sun rays pierce through a hazy wall forming in the distance and with the wind suddenly picking up create a rather dramatic scene.

It is raining in the distance, I am sure, and the way the wind has started blowing there rain is here in no time. I turn around to take one more photo of a collapsed building on my right and follow a lone rider and his horse out of my line of sight. When I turn back a minute later I see the hazy wall no longer in the distance but  already covering the petrol station in front of me. I increase pace to find a hiding spot when something biting hits my face. Damn, a sand storm!

I quickly put my camera away and lean forward to fight my way through the wind. The sand is biting my legs and my face. Thanks to my cowboy hat my eyes are free to look where I am going and soon enough I find a shelter consisting of a falling apart wooden fence opposite the petrol station.

I smoke a cigarette waiting for the storm to finish and occasionally peak out to observe the changing sky. It's raining now but the rain falls down almost horizontally thanks to the strong wind so I am completely dry when the storm finally washes over ten minutes later. By this time the sky has cleared up but the wind prevails and there is promise of more rain in another dark cloud on the west horizon.

-

As I climb out from behind the shelter the sun is still high up which gives me plenty time to catch another ride. That is if any cars decide to show up. And they do but only to refuel before going some other direction so I wait and wait.

And then there is a thundering sound coming from the direction of the village. It materializes as a big old lorry truck with four men sitting in the cabin. When I wave at them as they are almost passing me by the driver signals that they're just turning around to park at the petrol pump. Once the big circle is complete and the engine shut off the driver and all his companions get out of the cabin.

They are all different ages, the driver being the youngest somewhere in his later thirties with the rest in their forties and fifties. They all look older, as Mongols do in general, from the amount of sun their skin is subjected to and the hardships life in this part of the world has to offer. The driver although short is very well built and I judge he must attend the wrestling competition at Naadam, the Mongolian national festival. He is definitely employed for his strength and not his looks - his low height and simple and brutish features making him look like a proper thug.

I greet them with a smile and follow with the traditional where are you going? I speak to the driver with the rest grinning behind his back. They're off to Bayan Olgii, my destination again, but skipping the places I want to see. I share that thought with the group as I hear the petrol pump being turned on by the station clerk. Through the low humming noise I listen to the driver quite friendly explaining that the roads to our respective directions part very early ahead.

At this point a motorcycle carrying three other men makes its way to our little company. I greet them politely with a 'Sain bain uu.' The motorcycle driver, clearly having a drink or to in him, steps towards me and babbles something about vodka. The rest of the bunch laugh at something he said and I immediately assume he want's the vodka off of me.

As the truck driver steps closer to shield me from the drunk and shouts something back while putting his hand in my right pocket I therefore assume he is protecting me from the drunks. His smile and a nod only reinforces my opinion as I, not feeling very comfortably about my possessions being checked, let him go through my pockets. 'There's no vodka here. I've got none.' I am saying as he carries out the search.

When he enters and leaves my pockets for the third time I sense there is something wrong. I firmly push him away with 'Hey, what are you doing? I told you I have no vodka!' but he continues smiling and I can see his right hand putting something into his pocket. I quickly recognize it is my mobile since I held it in my hand not long ago. 'Hey!' my hand shoots out and grabs the phone from out of his pocket. 'That's my mobile! What the fuck is wrong with you?'

At this point it is fairly clear that I am being mugged. The rest of the people stand still observing what is going on and laughing at my figure trying to get loose from the grip of the brute.

'Let me go you bastard! What's wrong with you?' is all I can muster when I wiggle around trying to release myself from his grip. He is holding me by the pocket of my jacket and I cannot even consider unziping it and sliding out of it since I have my backpack on.

'Let me go you son of bitch!' I shout at him while pressing my palms against his chest in a last resort of trying to get loose. He does no longer smile. Instead he increases his grip and makes a gesture signaling me to get in the car.

'No way I'm getting in the car with you! What's wrong with you?' I find comfort in the spoken words.

As he starts pulling me towards the car I move my weight backwards preventing him from moving me an inch.

'Let me go I'm telling you. What's wrong with you? My druzia. Ja ti drug.' I try to dissolve the situation with a friendly offering. The words are left hanging as he tries to knock me down of my feet Mongolian wrestling style. I, wrestled a bit myself, know how to stand myself as he repeats his efforts. As I am struggling to counter his force without being tipped over with a clever move having the additional weight on my back my mind registers the violent laughs of the rest of the bunch. What pricks, I think to myself. Surely this is great fun.

Surprisingly I am not afraid. My mind cannot yet believe this is happening here and now in the clear light of day.

I finally manage to let loose of his grip around my neck and as I stand myself tall I spot a jeep heading towards us.

'Hey, over here. Help!' I shout as the car approaches. Thank god, I think to myself as the car parks not three meters from me. The two people in the car are of the ones I have conversed with in the village. As they open the door and are greeted by the laughing company I can see help is still yet to come. They laugh nervously instead of moving a step or saying a word when the wrestler makes his way towards me and shouts something back at them. Surely this is not happening?

I have no where to step away when he grabs me again and the wrestling continues. I can feel his weight tightly pressing against my neck as he tightens his grip around my shoulders and tries to push me to the side.

My arms around his shoulders we look like perfect wrestling partners wasn't there the big weight difference. But this is Mongolian wrestling and there is only one category with no weight limits.

This time I cannot balance the applied force and I can feel my left foot twisting under me as I am landing on my backpack with a full force of being knocked down.

I press my thighs together and put my arms in front of my chest to be ready for any sudden attack but the victor is enjoying his victory. He straightened himself right above me and is looking around for signs of appraisal.

I am too busy processing what has happened to register anything but the background laughs of the rest of them. I am still not afraid. This all feels too surreal. As if it was a part of a theatre being played to please an invisible audience. I can hear Mussorgskij's Night on the bare mountain.. I wish.

As the brute, satisfied with his fans response, turns his attention back to me I consider giving him a good kick in the bollocks. Before I am able to decide for or against it I am grabbed by the jacket and laid on top of my backpack. The brute straightens himself up and touches his belt as if to unbuckle it. He barks some Mongolian towards his compatriots and as he puts his hand in front of his groin and moves his hips in a pissing gesture the crowd cheers.

'You shit!' I say loudly but his hands are already off his belt.

He raises his left hand and with a pointed finger moves it across his neck from one side to another. Or maybe we should cut his throat like a pig's, I can hear him say in Mongolian with the crowd still cheering. This is not good. These people are not normal!

As he leans down with his shovel hands closing on me I do not know what is to follow. As he puts his hands on my hips and start tapping and checking the material moving his hands upwards towards my jacket I realise what he's after.

'Dollars. Dollars.' he keeps repeating as he goes through my pockets and taps me on the hips checking for a hidden pocket.

Oh shit! All my money, all the money I have and had such a hard time getting! It's all in my waist pouch! All the 200000 togrogs (120$), nothing else nowhere else.. with the first bank some 700 kilometers in front of me, if at all. I am totally screwed if he finds it!

'I don't have any dollars, you son of a bitch!' I shout back at him as I slip out of the grip of the backpack and stand myself facing him. 'No dollars', you bastard!

I take out my wallet from my back pocket. 'You want money? Here, take it. That's all I have!' I open the wallet and point at its contents. 'Here, take it!' I am putting the money in his hand as everyone is watching us. He nervously steps forward and shoves the money into my pocket. With his face close to mine I can hear him quietly repeat 'Dollars! Dollars!'.

It's not going to be easy.. 'No dollars. Togrog. Here take it. That's all I have.' I repeat and take the money out again.

I can see now that few other people appeared in my line of sight to checkout what's all the fuss about including a young man on a motorcycle. Some turn away and go about their business, some observe from afar. The boy on the motorcycle joins in the laughing as he watches me being mugged. What a prick!

The brute has his grip on me again and pulls me behind the petrol station. The station clerk is long gone and when the crowd tries to follow us he shouts at them to stand back. And so I find myself in a wrestling position again very soon having lost my hat and my glasses. When his grip suddenly loosens I manage to reacquire them and only then I see he is kneeling down to pick up a rock that is, I assume, supposed to give more credit to his threats.

I make a quick move in the opposite direction and pull him away before his fingers secure it's grip.

As we turn around and he finds himself out of sight of the peeking crowd his attention turns to my pocket. The one that has the money. He gets them out and starts counting when I, turning the other way, see the crowd slowly regrouping behinf the petrol station.

'This is all the money I have!' I shout at him taking my wallet out of my pocket again. 'You see? There is nothing there.' I go into all the compartments visiting the one storing an extra 10000 only briefly. I point at my VISA card to explain the lack of funds. 'I use this when I travel. I have no more money on me!'

He shoves the money into his pocket having obviously understood. The turn of events is not to his liking however and angered by my explanation he continues his agenda as he pushes me back onto the main road! 'Dollars! Dollars!' he no longer cares whether anyone overhears as he shouts in my ear.

'I have no dollars you fucking bastard. Leave me ALONE!' I shout at him getting pretty angry and helpless at the same time. As he makes the final attempt at the pocket search and finds my Swiss knife in the depths of my left pocket the events take a rapid turn.

He lets me go to use both of his hands to open the knife. As he is standing there with the blade shining in front of his face and signals me to come after him I feel a hint of terror taking over my senses. When he tucks out his shirt, rolls it above his belly and makes an 'Arrrggghh..' sound I almost feel like in a B-grade action movie. Almost! As he makes slow steps forward my mind registers the cheering has quieted down.

It's me and him. As he makes a step I back up a step. I could easily outrun the bastard but I do not want to leave my possessions here. There would be not much left of it I am sure and my super expensive not to mention beloved camera is there too.

So I continue stepping back as he growls at me and beats himself in his chest. That man is mental!

I am still not afraid - at least not in the way I have been in the few fights before, never really been properly beaten up to discover that man is not made of glass - but I feel a very strong discomfort all over my body.

As few more steps would lead me too far off from my possessions I make a quick round turn and for an instance show my back to him. I am however quit far away for him to do anything in case this is not just for show. As I find myself closer to his now completely quiet compatriots I can see worries appeared on their faces. They've had enough and this is no longer fun..

As I look at one of them and point out the mental state of his friend with a hint of desperation in my eyes he throws a few words in the direction of the brute and steps between me and him.

Few other people start collecting my things and as I put my backpack on I see others holding the brute back and calming him down.

Soon enough, as suddenly as it started, I find myself hastily walking away to the sounds of my cooking pan hitting something hard on the bottom of my backpack.  

Fucking bastards! All of you, I say to myself as I walk past the people that witnessed it all from afar. I wonder how much blood would have to have been spilled before anyone would take a stand! I despise you, you bloody cowards!

The crowd behind me is slowly disintegrating when I glance back. The guys on the motorcycle have taken of and the truck crew is getting into the car.

I position myself close to a few buildings for shelter in case they decide to start a pursuit anew and as I can hear the roaring engine coming closer I fear the inevitable. The maneuverability of the truck however gives me an edge and as they come closer I make a quick turn and find myself on the other side of the road again. The car stops and I can hear the door opening as I am hastily trying to increase the distance between us.

I could outrun them all but not with the 15 kilos on my back. The brute leans out and shouts something my direction.

I do not care what it was, maybe an apology, as I observe him from afar closing the door on the truck and drive off into the village.

-

As I am catching my breath after these unbelievable events still not entirely comprehending the sky has darkened and it begins to rain. As I am looking around for a new suitable shelter since the wind has dropped a bit and the rain actually falls vertically a motorcycle pulls into the petrol station. I watch the station clerk getting out to service the vehicle when he waves at me in what is an invitation to come and hide myself in his house. I give him a blaming look for not doing anything when it would have been most welcome but accept his offer. He shrugs his shoulders and makes a gesture saying Ah, never mind those.. It's easy for him to say.
At any rate I am now hiding in a wooden 'foyer' of his house waiting for the elements to take a break. It is not until now that I finally begin to see the things for what they are: I have been mercilessly attacked by a bunch of local thugs with many people witnessing but not raising a finger! So many people and not one had the courage, no, the decency, to stand up! How terrifying! If you're mugged in a remote place while it's dark you expect to be in it alone. But in the light of day with so many witnesses.. And I thought Mongolia was supposed to be a safe country to travel!
As I am meditating over the good, the evil and the need to take a side a half a dozen children enter the door surprised to see me there. 'Hi kids, coming from school, ay?' my mind takes a deserved break. As they observe me standing there in the darkness with my jeans torn on one knee I dig into my backpack and take out a bag of pastries I acquired in the town not long ago. 'Here, have some' I am making friends. The kids eagerly accept the offer and soon I find myself smiling over the synchronised chewing that unfolds.
One or two of them has a streak of snot running down their faces. Ah, Mongolian kids and their perennially running noses.
When they leave to get rid of the school backpacks I see the rain has eased down and I get out as well to resume my hitching. I am totally not ready to take on the adventure yet but there is very little else I can do.
The prospects as I now see them clearly are not very good: my money, some 7 or 12 thousand will be used towards buying some vodka and when it is gone the villains will come back looking for more. It is now past five o'clock and I have to be out here to get out of this hell hole. Never mind the rain, the wind and the darkness!

As I hear a few cars approach in the course of the next two hours I am being very cautious. I have left my backpack out of sight in the hut and allow myself to get out in the open only when I am sure of the coming vehicle. None of the cars go my direction and after the darkness starts to cover the ground around me I see that there is no getting away tonight. I look around to see what my options are but there are wide open spaces in every direction. I would have to walk 4 to 5 kilometers to get away enough for no one to see me - as long as I would not use my flashlight.
This is not good. I am not willing to risk being found at night with no soul near to witness it. Not that that would be of much help but it surely is of some comfort.
I walk around the property of the petrol station clerk who actually probably is the owner as well and find a little spot behind the house just in between a big heap of wood and some scrap metal. Not a very pretty spot but a haven nevertheless.
And so I go find the clerk and get his permission to put up a tent in his 'backyard'. As I finish putting it up it is already dark.
As I sit myself down after a dinner of pasta and tomato sauce I can finally feel my mind relaxing a bit.  It has gotten cold after the storm but I am not worried since I've borrowed a blanket from the house owner's  gorgeous and lovely daughter.

The thin line of pastel reds and blues on the horizon suggests where the sun set down when I open the bottle of Old Czech, the beer I have acquired to toast myself to good health. What a birthday! I think to myself smiling shyly at the fortunate turn of things. Thinking of my family and my friends in  Slovakia, Czech Republic, England and Germany I regret not having mobile signal. I would have loved to chat to someone!

After another sip of the really disgusting beer I light up a cigarette to take the edge of it. I think of how good a year this has been - I have sorted out most of the shit that has prevented me from being happy for so long, I have finally gotten off of my ass and found courage to do what I wanted to do since I was seventeen and now I am here doing it and surviving! Fantastic!  
Go Ladi ,go! I cheer for myself as I  become aware of quiet dialogue  and girly giggles coming out from behind the tent. Ah, visitors! I smile and get up to greet the clerk's lovely daughter and her brother. They came to inspect the strange visitor who is sleeping in their backyard. As I greet them and 'show them around' my little house the giggles continue. I share with them a beer and offer cigarettes but they do not smoke.

I take out my Mongolian phrasebook and feeling a sudden rush of homeliness I declare that today is my birthday!

What lovely company, they smile widely as they offer their hands in a handshake accompanied by a wish in Mongolian. Thank you so much, you made my day!

The strong wind and low temperature make us say goodbye and farewell too early. My tent does not offer enough space for the three of us and as they are departing for the warmth of their heated home I am wishing she hadn't had a brother. On the other hand she would not have come out here alone..

Tonight is going to be cold I say to myself as I zip up the sleeping back my body already tucked in. Too cold for bad people to come out!
I stop this trail of thought in order not to spoil the fragile little pleasures I was given and take a big sip from the plastic bottle of a fake Czech lager.

Tomorrow it is going to be a good day. I will catch a ride and soon I'll be out of here in a nicer place with better people.
With this comforting thought I undo the string that holds the rolled up tent's entrance cover. Before the sheet unrolls and covers the view of the outside world I wish the stars a good night. Hopefully they'll watch over me, I think to myself as I zip up the tent and close myself in this little nomadic home of my own.