Ulaan Baatar, Friday 17 October

Snow. Coats. Hats. Steam. Heating. Soups. Stews. Mutton. Greatcoats. Fur hats. Boots with turned up toes. But stilletoes too! Yerts. Gers. Trucks. Dust in the desert. Tracks in the desert. No roadsigns. At all. Nothing, nil, nix. Just follow someone elses tyre marks and see where they go. Keep the Trans-Siberian Railway line to your left. Or your right. But do not lose sight of it. Read the rest of this entry »