Once I've had lunch, I worry about how to get to my next but surely last destination in Mongolia: Khovd
There is a bus leaving from Ölgiy to get closer to the border post of Bukgan, I just need to know the place and the time. I meet several people including a young trilingual Mongolian accompanying a Chinese civil engineer. Both speak good English, which allows us to chat for a while. They think I’m crazy and so they accompany me to the bus station, a twenty minute walk away.
We find a really crappy little bus, the best in its range, which goes to Khovd, leaving at four o’clock sharp
It’s normal, it’s Mongolia. It’s not necessary to try to understand why the driver starts to dismantle some chairs at six o’clock, nor why we turn around in the village and stop here and there for no apparent reason.
So for lack of comfort and logic, all that’s left is to contemplate the breathtaking landscapes we pass through, shaken like Orangina in this decrepit bus. The light of the setting sun, the sky turning ultramarine over the plain… a real poem.
That’s what it takes to enjoy the ride : the bus is crowded, the window behind me has no glass and it’s now quite cool…
I take advantage of the lunch break to transform myself into an eskimo, a scarf on my head, two fleeces and an anorak on my back. We arrive in Khovd at 2am. MapsMe still doesn’t know where I am, but luckily my little neighbour asks the driver to drop me off in front of the only possible hotel in town, rated by Lonely as the best place ever. On the good news front, the city is not without electricity! The woman behind the desk is playing with her mobile phone and is not at all willing to look at me. She eventually gives me the keys to a room on the third floor and makes the supreme effort to accompany me to my room.
She tests the shower, the water runs in tiny trickles and it’s cold. I say: “no problem, we’ll see about that tomorrow, I just want to get a good night’s sleep”.
The bed looks welcoming, let’s be flexible. I come out of my room to admire the divine Mongolian sky when I pass two couples, quite drunk and ready for a chat.
They occupy the room opposite mine. We say good night to each other and the two couples go back to their single tiny room. It seems incongruous but, in Mongolia, you have to expect anything. I will understand it later,
As I drift off to sleep, I hear voices in the corridor and knocks on the door of the room next to mine. I finally realize that the neighbors across the hall each have their own room, they only got together to empty 2-3 bottles of vodka. Great. But now the room is closed from the inside: one of the revelers, dead drunk, closed it, fell asleep and heard nothing. Unluckily, there is no spare key.
The shouting intensifies, the night watchman doesn’t appreciate it and everyone is shouting at each other
I put Morpheus on the waiting list. They will knock on the door in all tempos from pianissimo to fortissimo for almost an hour. Morpheus is patient, so am I: I have a toilet at my disposal, clean sheets and a shower waiting for me tomorrow morning. Let’s be flexible, this is Mongolia and tomorrow, if Genghis agrees, I’ll go back to China. A rather reassuring thought as the racket only stops around 4.00 AM.
