Like old-aged pensioners huddled around a domino table, we travellers are not adverse to measuring our lives in days. Indeed, today marks the 1098th day — or three year anniversary — since I strapped on my seatbelt and took off from London Heathrow.
Archive for the 'Mongolia' Category
They were crammed in like broken string puppets in a dusty backstage box; elbows twisted around ankles, and their shoes a peculiar mishmash of colours.
I stare at the newspaper. It wasn’t me. I gawp at the television. It wasn’t me. I trawl through the internet. It wasn’t me! I listen to the radio, podcasts, and conversations on the bus. It WASN’T me! At least — I hope it wasn’t me? Continue reading ‘Trails of the Unexpected’
No Nike rucksack. No TMNT pencil case. No “I Heart Your Mum” scrawled crudely across an exercise book. No crumpled timetable. No line for chips and coke at lunch. No wallsy at break. No hour of “là où est la piscine”, or two hours of trigonometry. This weeks Reprint image is brought to you from the divine Mongolian Gobi. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘A Boyhood Dream’’
Zoom in a bit, in a bit more, more, more, out a bit, a touch more. Now focus. Slowly does it. Breath. Easy on the trigger. Look around the frame. Zoom in a bit. In a bit. In a bit. Breath. And. Wait for it. Shoot! Snap? Click? Damn it. Turn it on. Refocus. Pan right a bit. Easy on the trigger. Breath in. Breath out. Perfect. Count down from three, two… get out of the way! Three, two, one. Snap. Click. Whirr. You beauty! Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Taj. You’re It.’’
I’d seen him from a short distance, twelve months previously, he travelled alone aboard a plane to Moscow. He wore a dark tracksuit top zipped over a light t-shirt, and loose pale green shorts covered the knees he cradled by his chest. His hair sprayed out in loose brown curls beneath a khaki cap, highlighted by scribbles of grey. His pale thin lips lined a shallow smile, and his early morning eyes seemed glazed with relief. As his homeland slipped beneath a thin veil of cloud, he lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, his lips parted just once to release his farewell thoughts: Let the journey begin, my friend. Today, he lay upright on the rippled white sheets of a double bed, in a simple, homely room on the island of Bali. Continue reading ‘A Thousand Glorious Times’
“I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic!”, I’ll never forget these ghastly lyrics. An hour previous, I was sitting in a ger in the Mongolian countryside just to the west of Ulaanbaatar, politely accepting the offer of a bowl of airag (fermented mares milk) from our generous host. Not wanting to cause offence, I acknowledged my 3 Austrian tour-mates, Phillip, Harry and George who observed me swiftly swallow the sharp, milky, fizzy contents of the chipped china bowl. Continue reading ‘A Mongolian Milky Way’
