Naadam Festival

Jumping on someone else's bike is simple at home, as long as you're insured there's no problem. It's a different matter when there are international borders to cross, and Russia is notorious for making things difficult. Adding to the complications was the annual Naadam festival, a week long holiday for the nation, so every bank and official office closes its doors. Not the most perfect timing for sorting out the paperwork involved for Konrad to ride the BMW back across Russia. We managed to get a translation authorising him to take my bike to Germany, into Mongolian and Russian. we even managed to get them all authenticated by a notary, and then it was Naadam. Having procured the notarised letters it was meant to be a simple process of him applying for a transit visa for Russia. At least that was the original story at the embassy, but then they decided to make it more complicated. One slight mistake gave them the excuse to reject the first attempt at getting the visa, and their demands increased. Suddenly they wanted a stamp from the Mongolian Ministry of Foreign affairs, the wording changed on the Russian version of our letter of authority, and then get it stamped by the notary at the Russian embassy. (Photo: Singing the praises of a direct hit - Naadam archery competition, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

Normally it would have only taken an extra day, but not during Naadam. There was only one thing for it, chill out and make the most of the festivities. The centre of the city is like a ghost town, nothing is open, the streets are empty. There is only one focus of attention, the Naadam Stadium. We missed the opening ceremony, curtesy of the russian embassy, these guys have a lot to answer for. In truth though, tickets had sold out, it was heaving, and the pickpockets were working overtime. This is a big problem in Ulaan Baatar, not only for tourists but they are the prime targets. Every day we hear of people catching attempts at relieving people of their valuables. I'm lucky, most people are so gobsmacked by the tattoos and dreads they forget to delve into my pockets. One day Konrad caught two guys with their fingers in his pockets. The only time I've had any problem was at an ATM, a drunk youth tried crowding into the booth, showing belligerence when told to leave. His friend encouraged him to leave, which was just as well, I was trying to decide whether to forcibly remove him or recover my card and go somewhere else. One bad thing about Naadam is the increase in local drunks, the level of hostility with drunk Mongolians is a lot higher than I've encountered in other places. (Photo: Taking the strain - Naadam wrestling competition, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

It apparently never rains at Naadam, which could be said to hold true, it didn't rain during the day. Between the main days though it poured down relentlessly, a heavy deluge that forced us all indoors to take cover. Gana's guesthouse has a communal Ger, the perfect place to shelter and socialise. The clientele are a diverse mix of nations, most are open and friendly, nights are fun and entertaining. I guess it pays off. Despite the fact we bought tickets for the stadium we didn't stay long, once leaving a couple from the guesthouse benefitted by using our tickets to gain entry. Within the stadium we'd been disappointed, the wrestling was too far away, the view was awful; only with my telescopic lens could I get a decent view. The archery was better, we could line up along the length of the shooting ground. They don't use targets like in the western world, cardboard tubes are stacked on the ground, if scoring a direct hit the judges signify this by spreading their arms high and wide, often singing their praise. And the judges stand right next to the tubes/pots, it looks extremely dangerous but the arrows have cork tips; a few bruises are the only result of being hit. (Photo: Winning over your man - Naadam wrestling competition, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

Best of all is the richness of the traditional garb, the variations are immense. Many are quite plain, surely the everyday clothing of the more nomadic folk, whilst the splendour of fine embroidered silk and gold thread decry the privileged sectors of society. Like anywhere the is a huge gap between the rich and poor here, but when it comes to competing there is no differentiation, they are all on an equal footing. It's obvious that some wrestlers don't have the funds for shining new costumes, but they still compete with determination, gusto even. As the winner of each bout swoops and soars with the stylistic flight of an eagle their pride is evident. Their costumes leave a lot to be desired though, cowboy boots, sparkly trunks and frontless tops. The story goes that a princess once beat all the men consistently, causing too much embarrassment, when she died they designed these tops to ensure no women could compete again; saving the men face. The thought of wrestling any of the men is bad enough, heaven knows what the princess must have been like. There isn't any weight categories, it's a free for all, though the intricacies are hard to understand. Seeing some of these guys it's little wonder the Mongols swept aside all resistance in their path. (Photo: Down and out - Naadam wrestling competition, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

I've succumbed to the persistence of Konrad to try and cut corners, skip the order of official authority in an attempt to save time. Each time it's meant hours of traipsing around in scorching hot sunshine, every time it's left me feeling totally drained and having doubts as to the whole process. For sure it will save me a couple of grand, but so would riding back home myself. The thought of returning home and setting out again is too much for my poor little head, I think I'd lose the will to bother and give up altogether. Every day spent in the city drains my already depleted reserves, I'm now at my lowest ebb for a long time. In some ways I'm just letting things happen, not having the energy to consider other options. Ok, this isn't the best way to deal with problems, it isn't exactly going with the flow, it makes me want to walk away from everything, for what isn't so clear cut. For me this is the worst time of year possible, it may have been four years now since Cai died but I miss him as much as ever. I need to pull my finger out, think clearer and more positively. Doing Tibet by in a 4x4 is the current plan, if the Chinese start to issue permits again, at present they've closed down the country, no-one seems to know why. Hey, it's China, who ever knows what is actually going on or why? Hopefully I can spend a fair bit of time in Kyrgyzstan before entering China, maybe do some horse riding. The country is meant to be beautiful, I could really do with lifting my spirits, cities do my head in, I gotta get out into nature again! (Photo: The victor soaring high - Naadam wrestling competition, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)