to the outskirt of town

The next morning, I woke up to another day of blue sky outside. Looking out the window, my felt so high-spirited already, and the day hasn’t begun yet! I said to myself: I want to have more of this blue sky! With no hesitation, I decided to stay longer in Mongolia. I got myself ready to go and change my train ticket in town. I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the next day!

I walked to a place called the Technology and Science Centre on Baga Toiruu Street. Inside, through a labyrinth-like hallway that can be seen in many old-fashioned Soviet-period buildings, I found the room with a sign “Real Russia” on it. This is the company from where I’d booked the one-way second-class Ulaanbaatar-Moscow ticket that cost me £120. To change to another train, I had to pay T129,955 (£70), which was less than I actually expected. All I had to do is wait for their call and come back to collect my new ticket when it’s ready.

Now I knew I didn’t have to leave, I could embrace this space over and over again!

As I turned up at the Sukhbaatar statue waiting for Ganbaatar (as we agreed to meet here), Urnaa called me. ‘Come to the side of the Square! I have a car here for you!’ she instructed. I realized she had made her own arrangement for me since I told her about my meeting with Ganbaatar the other day. She took his phone number and called him, telling him to stay at home to wait for us. She had organized for a friend of hers to drive us to his place on the outskirt of town.

I wondered why Urnaa never told me about this arrangement beforehand. She just took control. Oh well, if that made her happy. She has been protective, like an elder sister, since I met her on the train from Moscow.

Now I got in the car as she told. A street artist approached me from outside the car. To be polite, I had a short conversation with him about his work. When he was out of sight, Urnaa coached me: ‘Why did you speak so much to him? He’s not a good man.’

‘Yes, mum, I won’t again,’ I answered. So we drove off, into the periphery of Ulaanbaatar. Townships are sprawling around the edge of the city, the number of which has doubled in the past two decades. Half an hour later, we were led into a mass of residential areas called the Darieh district – with tens of thousands of one-to-two-storey houses and gers alongside each other - surrounded by layers of valleys.

We turned a corner into a narrow street lined with short fences on both sides. I could see people going on about their daily life across the fences. Many houses have a ger right next to them in the yard. This is quite common as housing costs are high. Many people live with their extended families right next to them within the same land circled by fences. It is common that young couples are living in gers while their parents live next door to them in the house within the same property.

‘Sain bainuu!’ Ganbaatar came outside of his house to greet us – me, Urnaa, Gunje and their niece Arghun. Ganbaatar looked as exhausted and unshaved as the first time I met him. He still put on his friendly smile in the face of a group of strangers.

‘Sain bainuu!’ we greeted him.