Staring out at the steppes from the Trans-Mongolian train bound for Ulaanbaatar, I speculated about what could prompt that moment on this trip. After all, with its legendary heroes, Silk Road credentials and landlocked isolation, Mongolia was not short on drama.
The train ride itself was pretty unusual, for starters. Be it the Mongolian attendants who had ushered us into our coupe with exaggerated wide-eyed ‘Indian, Indian!’ gestures (clearly, Bollywood was big in these parts), or those hours spent locked up in the train on the border between China and Mongolia while immigration officials whisked away our passports for inspection. By the time the train pulled into Ulaanbaatar, there were quite a few out-of-the-ordinary instances, but a drumroll moment? Hmmm, not yet.
Part Chinese, part Russian and wholly unique, Ulaanbaatar is a welcoming city that refutes its frosty reputation of being the coldest capital in the world. Expectedly so, the aura of Chinggis Khan looms large, and his commanding statue occupies the centre of the main square. But not too far away is a mural dedicated to the Beatles, and lining the city streets are countless Korean barbecues. Traditional it may be, but Ulaanbaatar, like other world cities, was not impervious to global influences, old and new. However, we were here for the briefest of stops before embarking on our Mongolian road trip from the Gobi Desert. Ulaanbaatar’s modest domestic airport was buzzing even in the early hours. There were some tourists, the odd local, and workers off to coal, copper and gold mines in the far reaches of the country.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة December 2019 من Outlook Traveller.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
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هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة December 2019 من Outlook Traveller.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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