We pick up on the third leg of my trip in Mongolia’s ancient capital, Kharkhorin. Having been able to get a ride here in a car rather than a public bus was a relief, even though I hadn’t ridden on a public bus here before, but I imagined what it might be like.

I stayed at another guest house (a ger) that also had a main building that contained optional indoor rooms and bathrooms, the dining room, and a gift shop. This part of the trip seemed a bit more straight-forward (with the exception of what I was expecting for the overnight stay with a nomadic family), once the owner, Gaya, explained to me the itinerary and where things were located. One of the sites was actually very close (15 minutes walking distance), while another was located up atop the big hill behind the main guest house. I managed to get a private room with a double bed. It also had a light bulb and a power outlet. I was happy to get a single ger, although apparently the spiders and beetle-like critters occupying it were not aware of this arrangement.

After dinner, I decided not to waste any time and hauled myself up the hill to see one of the sites, as well as catch a glimpse of the sunset and surrounding area as recommended by Gaya.

Atop the hill, I discovered the Turtle Rock site, though it was further back than I thought.

Before that, I also came upon a shaman shrine complete with the skulls of cows or yaks.

The next morning I went to the Erdene Zuu Monastery before heading out to the Orkhon Valley Waterfall and an overnight stay with a nomadic family.

This was the first Buddhist monastery in Mongolia and was founded in 1586.

There was another small building that housed more artifacts. Inside, a local artist was selling and creating pieces that looked like animated versions of deities or characters from ancient myths. In his work, he also used old traditional Mongolian script. There were also some colored paintings of animals from famous legends, like the Monkey King. I bought one of the bulls. I was attracted to the shades of blue used.

The last building looked like it was where the monks would gather to study and practice their teachings. I took a photo while inside but was soon told that I was not allowed to take any photos. So, out of respect for them, I did not include that photo here.

Finally, after lunch, it was time to head out to see the Orkhon Valley Waterfall and overnight stay with a nomadic family. The drive to the falls would be a little over three hours or so. Before we left, Gaya reassured me that the driver was a good driver. I didn’t mention being concerned about it, so I wondered why she brought it up. I would later realize why.

Along the way, the driver stopped at a famous spot where tourists can get a view of the river valley.

After another hour or so of driving through the rugged, rough, and tumble fields full of stones and lightly-made tire tracks through the grass, we arrived at the nomadic family site. I was confused because I thought we would see the waterfall first. The driver then tried to communicate to me that the waterfall was a “short” walk away behind the camp area. I was also confused because I thought I would be the only one staying with the family and sleeping in their ger with them. But there were a number of other random tourists also staying here overnight. Eventually, another driver or guide also told me that the waterfall was perhaps three hundred meters or so away. So, I put down my bag and headed over to the valley area. I could hear some water flowing, but it was difficult to tell where exactly the waterfall was. Finally, I came upon the site.

Near the top of the waterfall here, I decided to take off my shoes and socks and dip my feet in the cool water, just like some of the local tourists did. I did not, however, go so far as to strip naked and splash around in it, which is what one set of parents decided their kid should do.

I noticed that some people had found a way down to the base of the waterfall area. After walking along the edge of the valley, I finally saw the rocks that people were climbing up and down. Once I climbed down, I walked along the river formed by the falls. It was a really nice area, especially with the golden afternoon sun. I just wish I had thought to pack my swim suit and enjoy the water as some other people did.

On the way back, I somehow managed to get lost. I had misjudged how far inward the camp site was from the edge of the valley. After a brief moment of anxiety, I found the camp site.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, there really was no interaction with the family. They just seemed to stop by with some food and beverages at dinner time. My driver (and the driver/guide of the other tourists) were also apparently staying overnight there, too. He was the one who started the fire for me in my ger.

I also decided to check out the outhouse area. They had a semi-open set up with sections for men and women. There were stalls with no door and no seat. It was pure squatting over floor boards that had a gap big enough for droppings to fall. In front of the stalls was a fence of sorts that only went up about waist high. This was the least private toilet experience so far. The previous nomadic family stay back at Lake Khvosgol had an even more open setup, but I didn’t use that one, but rather the actual outhouse next to it. Anyway, I can’t be sure, but I may have been the only tourist here to use these stalls.

After dinner was delivered (a vegetable fried rice dish and a thermos of hot water and tea bags), I finished and took a brief stroll outside. I didn’t go too far since there didn’t seem to be much else nearby to explore. That, and it was getting cold. So after another visit to the forsaken outhouse stalls, I finally turned in for the night.

After a quick breakfast, I waited for my driver to finish putting air in his tire and to finish his cigarette. I’m always amazed or confused at people who can smoke that early in the morning.

On the way back, the driver seemed unafraid of going fast and making quick, twisting turns over and through the jagged rocks strewn about the fields. It felt like he was practicing for the Indianapolis 500. At one point, I looked at the speedometer, and it read 100 kph (62 mph). I then realized why Gaya had preemptively reassured me of my driver’s competence. The whole time, I kept thinking of how much punishment his tires endured. If wearing out tires and shocks like this was a crime, he would surely be found guilty.

At the same time, he had the radio tuned to some station that was playing random western songs from the early 1990s. The best part of the ride back was experiencing it while hearing MC Hammer’s song “Can’t Touch This.” It made for the most random and memorable car ride I’ve ever had, and I regret not trying to take video during this part. On the way back, we repeatedly encountered more herds of sheep, goats, and cows crossing the road.

On the way, he stopped so that I could take some more photos.

We also stopped for some road side lunch. I was escorted into the dining ger and waited for the meal. After I was served some bread and yak’s milk, someone came back into the ger and hacked off some of the lamb that was hanging near the doorway. Perhaps I should have been concerned about how sanitary this was, but I wasn’t. Lunch ended up being a simple dish of chopped lamb and gravy with some potatoes and rice. Once again, the lamb had a strong taste but it was the chewy pieces of grizzle that got to me.

The final part of the day trip was visiting the mini-Gobi area to ride a camel. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to do this. After my previous animal riding experience on an elephant in Thailand, I told myself that I wouldn’t ride any more animals. I was also surprised to find out that instead of holding the reigns in their mouths like horses do, the camels had a metal spike going through their nose, and this is how they were led. This disappointed me greatly, and I felt guilty for riding it. They asked me several times if I wanted my photo taken, but I said no. I was really not impressed by the “Gobi” surroundings either. There were just a bunch of sand dunes randomly located in the middle of the surrounding countryside. The only photo I tried to take was of the big rolling hills in the distance, but it didn’t turn out well, so I deleted it. While riding, I saw bits of garbage strewn about, which only irritated me further. I definitely could have done without this part of the trip, and I would not recommend anyone else do it either. But overall, I would say this was the only activity that I didn’t enjoy.

The next morning, I and several other guests were dropped off at the small bus station (if you can call it that). Before everyone had boarded, they had run out of space for people to put their bags under the bus. This was the public bus that I had managed to avoid on the way here, but now I was certain to get the full experience on the five-hour drive back to Ulaanbaatar.

The bus was overcrowded, but once again, that didn’t seem to stop people from boarding. It seemed like people who hadn’t bought a ticket just had to sit in the aisle. This, of course, is a major safety hazard, but clearly neither the driver nor the locals were overly concerned about it. I suddenly remembered back to what the previous guest house owner, Dava, had told me: “This is how we do it in Mongolia.”

What really annoyed me on this journey, aside from the terribly slow driving, was the number of stops we made so that people could get off at random locations as well as randomly pick up others. We made one official rest stop for lunch and used the toilet. And by toilet, I mean following a narrow alley back behind one of the restaurants to once again squat over some separated floor boards. I had to pee so badly that seeing the old, dried turds on the floor didn’t stop me from going. Afterwards, I peaked into some of the restaurants, but I was worried about ordering since the menu was entirely in Cyrillic and I wasn’t in the mood for any surprises. I finally wandered down further and bought two rolls of rice, eggs, and sausage rolled up in seaweed. It didn’t seem too Mongolian, but they looked and tasted harmless enough, so whatever.

After finally making it to the main bus station in Ulaanbaatar (Dragon But Station), I was relieved to meet up with the person driving me to the hotel. It turned out to be the manager. Apparently, this was his first time picking up anyone here. He spoke enough English to converse with, so this was a nice way to start the final part of my trip in Ulaanbaatar.

So now, you, the reader, are almost at the finish line, with only one more part to go in my Mongolian series. Stay tuned.