The Flyin' Liz Ryen

21 September 2015 I'm not sure why Mongolia was on my travel list, but there it was, looking like a pretty good idea. Rather than bring a bike, I decided to bring a saddle and buy a horse once I got there. Mongolia is a culture where there are still nomadic families living in gers (yurts) that use horses and camels as a means of transportation. With wide open spaces, river valleys that lead into mountains with snow leopards, and few rules to follow, it sounds like an ideal place to spend some time. For the first time ever, I packed my bags before I left to see if I could fit all my gear on my saddle and not carry so much weight that my horse would collapse. I sat down to see how it all felt and reached forward to adjust my stirrup. In awkward slow motion, my rain barrel "horse" saddle, bags, and me, all went tumbling down across the yard before I could kick my feet out of the stirrups. Hoping that this was not a portent of...

23 July 2015 For the first time ever, I hired a tour guide for the day. I only had a short time in Beijing and didn't want to spend in trying to figure out public transport.I have to admit,  It was well worth it. In Tianamen Square there is a mausoleum for chairman Mao. before you go in, they pat you down and run you through a metal detector. You cannot take anything inside except your ID. Once inside there is a huge statue of Mao seated in a chair. People lay hundreds of yellow plastic flowers at his feet that they buy while standing in line. When the pile of flowers grows too large, workers gather them by the armful and take them back outside to be resold. You must keep moving in line and when you finally make it into the next room, there he is, in a glass coffin. Chairman Mao is covered by a Chinese flag except for his face which is there in all its embalmed glory, a face that has been dead since 1974. From a western point of view, I found it baffling that he was so celebrate...

25 July- Ulaanbator Ulaanbator (UB) is the biggest city in Mongoia, but you can walk across it in a morning. First stop for me after a heavy rain doused the city was the Gandan Khiid Monastery. Buddhist monks have been here since 1944 when it was opened for show for the US vice President's visit, but it became a true place of study in 1990 when the monastery was reopened. You can walk all over the grounds and pop your head into any of the buildings while the monks are chanting. They have monks of all ages from bent over old men to young boys who were throwing pieces of paper at each other instead of chanting. The main attraction here is the 26 meter tall Buddha filled with 27 tons of herbs, 2 million bundles of mantras, and an entire ger including the furniture. Outside the Monastery gates I proceeded to gorge myself on dumplings, conveniently found on every street. From street venders you can fill up for about 35cents, in a restaurant with English writing on th...

3 August 2015 I spent the last eight days in another world. The Mongolian Steppe is a glimpse into a different time and a simpler place. I decided to join a tour and head out on horseback to explore central Mongolia. Rather than a set schedule we would wake up in the morning, make sure our hobbled horses were somewhere close by and take a leisurely breakfast. Then out we would ride, sometimes walking and sometimes a full gallop off in any direction we felt like going. if it started to rain we would duck into a ger and drink milk tea. If we were lucky, or maybe unlucky we would be offered fermented mares milk whick tasted like vomit's tangy after taste. The mongolians love it and drink it with great gusto.  The best times would bring dumplings, the not so best times meant hard squares of cheese curds that made your mouth water with the tang of fermenting milk, like biting into a piece of hard lemony square of rotting tofu. Although the food was never great, the hosp...

8 August 2015 Moving on from the central steppe I took an overnight bus to Khatgal. I thought the ride would be horrible but by some odd lucky turn, my bus has reclined sleeper bearths and was in fact more comfortable than the hostel beds I had been sleeping in. The bus, which was suppose to take 18 hours, stopped often for dinner and bathroom breaks. I woke up in the parking lot of the bus station after a sound nights sleep. The only people left on the bus were the drivers and myself, all the other passengers has already disembarked. I thought it was rather kind that they just let me sleep away especially since the ride only took about 10 hours and had been parked at the bus station for quite a long time. Khatgal is a small town at the southern edge of lake Huvsgol, the 2nd largest lake in asia, and is a vacation destination for Mongolians and tourists alike. The only problem is that it's really close to the Russian border so you need a guide If you are going hiking or ho...

8 August 2015 After 2 days in the bustling metropolis of Khatgal (pop 3,000) I was itching to get out into the countryside. I started asking if any of the guides would trade a horse trek for my saddle. Everyone who looked at it upside down and right side up,  gave it a hearty pat and said, "good saddle, good, good." Happily I was able to trade my old saddle plus $200 for a 10 day trek with a guide, food, and a pack horse. Even better, I was able to use my saddle during the trek. My mighty steed earned the name Pumpkin Thighmaster after the first day. Although he was round and had the slowest walk of any horse I have ever ridden, he galloped like his tail was on fire.  We set off around the east side if the lake and stopped off to pick up another guide and 2 people from France. This was fine for me as my guide Pembuk spoke about 4 English words and I welcomed the company. Since most of the negotiations for the trip had been done in charades I had no idea where we were goi...

13 August 2015 The morning before left we watched a bull get castrated. 3 men sat on the bull while one made a tiny slit in the sack, the testicle was squeezed out, tied off, and quickly cut. When both were off, the site was washed off with gasoline and they let the bull up. He slowly got to his feet and walked off, a little less bullish. After that quick farm chore Pembuk and I were off! With just the two of us and our pack horse we could travel much faster and Pumpkin Thighmaster was running with minimal encouragement. Our path climbed up through the mountains throughout a long day of riding. We crested a hill and a sweeping valley full of wildflowers stretched out in front of us. We hobbled and staked the horses in the meadow and settled into making our standard dinner, Mongolian soup.  First you boil a big pot of water, then you take your dried yak meat and tenderize it by beating it vigorously between two rocks. If you are lucky there is a bunch of dried fat to go al...

21 August 2015 The next morning Pembuck and I headed off to Chandmandi-Ondoo, a small town to the east. We rode through fields and fields of wild delphinium, edelweiss, and yellow poppies. Like cowboys in a Western film, we rolled into town and tied our horses up to the hitching post. The town was a maze of wooden houses and dirt roads and Pembuk had a friend at the very edge of town. We rode there and decided to camp in his yard for the night. To celebrate our visit out came the vodka, naturally. I'm the early morning the rain started, and it continued to rain throughout the day. In a tiny house we spent the day making noodlrs, dumplings, soups, yogurt, yak vodka, and best of all, blueberry jam. No one was idle but everyone spent the day quietly, especially Pembuk who spent the day rolling around on the floor nursing a hangover.  Due to the rain, we spent another night there and left the following morning. As we were packing up, the daughter of the house passed me a j...

25 July 2015 After a quick 12 hours on dirt roads, smashed in a land rover with 9 other people, I found myself back in Ulaanbator. I decided to go to Naraan Tuul, the black market and buy new pants and boots so I didn't look quite so homeless. You can buy anything imaginable in the market; cooking stoves, jewlery, fishing poles and boats, puppies, school uniforms, saddles, and of course knock off Armani jeans.  I pointed to a pair I liked and I was handed a wrap around skirt  for modesty and a small carpet to stand on. With hundreds of people winding their way through the market, I shimmied out of my pants and smashed my thighs into some very tight jeans. I asked if I could have a bigger size. The lady holding the mirror cocked her head to the side, looked me up and down, and said, "no, those pants good." And how can you argue with that. So we cut the tags off and I left market looking far more stylish than when I entered. To go to the Gobi would be days of driving...