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You are here: Home / Archives for Lauren

What They Don’t Tell You About Horseback Riding in Mongolia

April 12, 2012 By Lauren

Travel in Mongolia - Mongolian ger
I get really excited about animals. It’s kind of weird.

Jared and I sat on the couch in Ulaanbatar’s Khongor Guesthouse, flipping through their book of tour options.

“Ooh, this one,” I said. “Central Mongolia two: Kharkhorin, Orkhon Waterfall, eight lakes and Mongol sand dunes with nomad family.”

He leaned over my shoulder to read the details.

“Lauren, that’s five days on horses.”

“Uh, I know,” I said. “Five days of awesome.”

I could see it all now: five days of galloping across the desolate Mongolian plains, drinking in the natural beauty and forging a relationship with my horse that would make Dr. Dolittle jealous. We’d stop at ger camps along the way and learn to brew airag, a traditional drink of fermented horse milk, before diving into a pristine lake to wash off.

I couldn’t wait.

“Have you ever been on a horse?” Jared asked, breaking into my reverie. “Really been on a horse?”

When I was eight, I took horseback riding lessons for about a week.

“Yes,” I said stubbornly. “Sort of.”

Eventually, I agreed on CM-4. Eleven days through central Mongolia with two days on horseback and an optional third day at the end. We joined the tour with an American friend and a Dutch couple. I eagerly anticipated our arrival at the White Lake, where my horseback riding dreams would become real.

Mount Up

The first thing I noticed about our horses was their size.

Mongolia Travel - Prepping the Mongolian ponies
Not exactly monstrous, are they?

They were tiny, like ponies. Strong, sturdy ponies, but ponies all the same. I was worried, and remembered a time when I was younger and sat on a collie dog. It had looked sturdy, too, until it collapsed under my weight.

Hopefully the ponies were a bit more robust than the dog, which I feared was never quite the same after the incident.

Seven ponies had been fitted with saddles, which were actually blankets topped with wooden planks and covered by a bean bag. The bean bag was sewn over a curved metal bar that was ideally positioned for direct contact with my coccyx.

Our tour guide, Tushig, translated for the horse trek leader, a tanned, wrinkled man in a shiny maroon wrap.

“If you want to go fast, say ‘choo’,” Tushig explained.

He didn’t tell us how to say ‘stop.’

“Choo,” we grunted. “Choo. Choo.”

The horses turned in lazy circles, ripping grass out of the ground and totally ignoring us.

The leader cackled and whacked his horse on the rump. “Choo!”

It took off instantly, and the other horses jerked into motion.

I jammed my feet into the stirrups and winced as my tailbone banged against the metal bar with every hoofbeat. My new goal was clear: survive.

The scenery was beautiful, but the six-hour ride was grueling. My thighs burned. I had a good idea of what my knees would feel like in fifty years, and my calves were bruised from pressing against knots in my stirrups. Worst of all, a disgusting rash had erupted across my butt.

Mongolian Travel - Horseriding in Mongolia
Reality sinks in. This is not as romantic as I imagined.

And I had wanted to do this for five days?

Day Two

The White Lake stretched out to our left, the rolling hills to our right. A gentle breeze rippled through the long grass and the horse’s coats shone in the sun.

It would have been pretty close to my initial fantasy had it not been for the butt rash and unrelenting muscle pain. After three painful hours, we finally arrived at our lunch destination: a nomadic family settlement.

Without phones or internet, the nomads were clearly not expecting us. I felt horrible, sitting uninvited in their family home, surrounded by sheep parts and dried yogurt snacks, as they chopped meat on the bed and molded noodles from scratch for my lunch.

Travel in Mongolia - Mongolian ger interior
How long has that been there? Wait. I don’t want to know.

To ease the awkwardness, our hosts offered everyone a bowl of homemade vodka.

It was like drinking rubbing alcohol. I took a few sips and passed it to the next person.

Our horse guide, however, skipped the bowls and went straight for the bottle. By the time we got back on the horses, he was well drunk and chuckling like a maniac.

“Choo!” he cried, circling our horses and slapping their flanks. “Choo choo! Choo choo!”

And the horses choo-ed. For two and a half hours, the horses choo-ed. We bobbed around like kernels of popcorn on a hot stove, trying desperately not to die.

Every time I pulled back on the reins, the guide materialized.

“Choo!”

“No choo! No choo!” I shouted.

That made him laugh harder. I gave up and held tight, cringing in fear every time I heard the word ‘choo’.

Travel in Mongolia - Mongolian Guide and horse
So small, yet so powerful. That goes for the guide & the horse.

Afterwards, when we were all shivering after rinsing off in the algae-dotted White Lake, three Israeli tourists stopped by to say hello.

“Horses?” they asked.

We nodded, still miserable. I could sense my butt rash getting worse.

“We understand,” one of the men said. “We just completed a nineteen-day horse trek.

All five of us snapped to attention.

Nineteen days?

“It was horrible,” he said. “For the first three days. After that, you get used to it.”

And just like that, I realized what a wuss I was. It had been two days and I was carrying on like I’d been beaten and tortured.

Even still, when the ‘optional’ day of riding rolled around, I declined.

I may be a wuss, but I’m not an idiot.

Mongolian Travel - Horseback riding in Mongolia
Though admittedly, I might look like an idiot.

Filed Under: Headline, Mongolia Tagged With: animals, Horseback Riding, Travel Mongolia

Where Did Our Love Go? The Five Hour Rule

February 14, 2012 By Lauren

Traveling with someone you love is an experience like no other. It can bring you closer, but if you’re not careful, it can push you apart. This Valentine’s Day, traveling couples can keep the romance alive by taking a temporary break from each other.

Don’t panic – sometimes five minutes apart is all it takes.

Coming Undone

 

The crowd was growing at the roadside bakery, and I could sense the salesman getting impatient. People pushed and jostled to make eye contact with him, but he was looking at me. It was my turn.

My boyfriend, Jared, was getting impatient, too.

“Just pick some,” he said, nudging me forward. “It’s not that hard!”

Rage flared up in my chest. It was that hard. I was tired, hungry, and overwhelmed by Luxor. For some reason, the task of choosing pastries pushed me over the edge.

“I don’t know,” I shouted at him. “I don’t know which ones I want! Stop rushing me.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. The men around us chuckled and nudged each other knowingly.

I wanted to punch them. I wanted to punch the salesman. I wanted to punch Jared.

Sensing danger, Jared quickly pulled me aside.
“It’s okay,” he said in his most soothing voice. “It’s just pastry.”

Of course it was just pastry. So why was I so upset?

The Rule

My mother operates under a theory she calls The Five-Hour Rule. She claims that she read about it in an ‘online study,’ but I can’t find evidence of it anywhere.

The foundation of the theory is this: after five consecutive hours with someone, you need to take a break from them.
Read a book. Go for a walk by yourself. Take a nap. Whatever it is, block out time to do something alone. When you feel recharged, feel free to lay eyes on each other again.

Although its origins are dubious, I have to admit that my mom is on to something.
I love my boyfriend. For the last 3 1/2 years, I’ve loved traveling with him, living with him, and even – occasionally – working with him here in Korea, where we were placed at the same school. (How’s that for being in each other’s pockets?)
But sometimes when we’re traveling, I want him to step off.

It doesn’t happen often, but it happens.

Suddenly, everything is annoying: butterflies, laughing children, ice cream cones, and especially, my poor travel partner, Jared. I’m thinking only of my personal comfort and have lost the ability to consider anyone’s feelings but mine.
He calls it the ‘Hunger Rage.’ Admittedly, he has a point. Things get ugly when I haven’t eaten. But to my amazement, it usually happens at the five hour mark.

Worse, the same thing is happening on his end. He’s tired, the money belt is too tight, and he can’t work out why his girlfriend has morphed into a wailing banshee who can’t choose a bloody pastry.

The five hour rule doesn’t just apply to your partner. It applies to everybody you spend time with: your best friend, your kid, complete strangers, the Dalai Lama – everybody.

We all need a little ‘me’ time when we’re on the road, even when we’re with the ones we love.

Emotional deterioration starts subtly, but progresses rapidly.
Hour one: What the – ? Oh, he just stepped on my shoe.

Hour two: Why does he insist on walking so fast behind me?

Hour three: Get off my shoe.

Hour four: Step on me again and I’ll claw you in the face.

Hour five: One more time and this relationship is over.

Accidents become unforgiveable. Your loved one becomes your whipping boy. It’s not their fault. It’s not your fault.

It’s the five-hour rule. You’ve been side-by-side for too many hours, navigating foreign territory in a language you might not speak.

Sometimes you’re not in a position to separate from your travel buddy when the five-hour mark looms. It’s dark, crowded, unfamiliar, and you’re too far from your hostel to feel comfortable going solo.
That’s okay. Just ignore each other for a while.

Don’t talk unless you have to. Sit at separate tables of a coffee shop. Pretend you’ve never even seen that person before. Eat something and don’t share it with anyone.

Eventually, you’ll simmer down. Your energy and coping mechanisms will return, leaving you capable of travel and human companionship again.

At that point, go ahead and scoot your chairs closer together. Make any necessary apologies and have a good laugh.

If you feel up to it, you could even share a pastry.

Filed Under: Guides, Headline, Journey, Travel & Planning, Travel Reflections Tagged With: guest post, love, travel, valentine's day

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