A nameless village in the very heart of Mongolia. Yesterday we drowned our car in the river as we made every possible mistake on its crossing. I was driving, which is even more sad. And, by the way, today is a month since I arrived to Mongolia. The road that brought me here was long…
It all started in February, in Siem Reap, where in the bar of bad, but listed in Lonely Planet hotel, I met Roman and Ward (a little more about this meeting will be in the section “Moscow-to-Bangkok“). Then we just drank a couple of beers, exchanged emails and nothing of the following could be predicted. A week after this meeting I flew to Russia, with plans obscure even to myself. In was sunny and -25 in Moscow, I was recalling my departure to India in February three years ago and thought it would be nice to repeat this event. And then Roman appeared on facebook and asked if I wanted to join him, in his car, from Ulan Bator to Magadan. Evidently it was an offer which I couldn’t refuse. Every hippie can get a flight to India, but the Road of Bones is a different story, and it has already attracted my attention several times. Also, travel is essentially about new experiences, and I wanted to go to the bear land. Eventually the tickets Moscow – Irkutsk and Irkutsk – Ulaanbaatar were bought.
At that moment, when I bought tickets in Moscow, Roman and Ward drove through China, where the problems with transmission has began. Attempts to repair the car in China were unsuccessful, because there were no spare parts (in China! that’s when the first bell rang). I went to the biggest (and most famous) spareparts shop in Moscow, but they said “Is it written on our site that the spares will arrive in a week? Well then ten days it is” and since only six days remained before my flight, I decided that all problems will certainly be solved in Mongolia, because about every third car there is a Land Cruiser. With this mindset I went to the airport.