Sain bainuu!

Yesterday we went to the Naran Tuul [black market] here in Ulaanbaatar. Being warned by everyone [including people on the street] to not bring anything we didn't want pick-pocketed, I didn't bring my camera. And, of course, immediately regretted it. The colors and textures, not to mention scenes unfolding before my eyes and piles of goods for sale, were amazing. The black market is a legal market [despite its name], and you have to pay 50 togrog to get in [about 4 cents]. There was, beyond a doubt, anything you could ever need. All the modern conveniences [stoves, iPhones, stereos, DVD players] and all the fixins for making your own ger and outfitting your horse. There were yak hair ropes, leather bridles, ornate saddles, iron stirrups, huge bolts of 1" thick felt [ger insulation!], traditional furniture, clothing, wrestler's boots, herdsman's boots, kid's boots lined with fur, whole wolf pelts, Soviet era pins and decks of cards, and of course, food: huge sacks of spices and rice, a whole row of butchers working on sheep, cows, pigs - with piles of discarded bones in great big boxes, almost as tall as I was. There were veggies, potatoes, pickled carrots, mare's milk [airag], noodles, stands selling buuz and kebabs. It was a completely sensual experience, and was topped off by crates of kittens at the exit. 

The only possible thing to do after such sensory overload was to get a beer [with our awesome new friends, Chelsea and Dave, who we met on the Trans Mongolian] and eat dumplings and french fries. I might go back, armed with my camera - or I might not - sometimes it's better to let things be memories.