I know the last post about our ride and the places we go was set in Estonia, and I realise I have a lot of writing to do to bring the avid fan up to speed on many kilometers covering-, amazing place visiting-, crazy people meeting-, lamb-fat-eating-, horse-milk-drinking-, fuel-stealing-, and borsh-swilling- kind of adventures.
But indulge me while I fast forward and get out of time, as it were, like a Guy Ritchie thriller, and I’ll tell you the latest, with the promise of returning one fine day to the aforementioned stories that you have been whetted for.
I’m writing this from the Headquarters of the Red Falcon Motorcycle Club of Ulaan Baatar, drinking instant coffee and deciding where, and indeed what, Tegshee, the President is going to tattoo me. Like Theresa, I am ostensibly working on a scientific report with my feet up. Like Theresa, I am actually doing something else and listening to Kendrick Lamar. Welcome to the high-paced world of research.
Theresa and I are living in the HQ having been picked up by Tegshee, the President, and one of the Prospects (like a new gang-member who is still on probation, so not trusted with deep secrets and important things). We were escorted into UB through the snarling traffic, and arrived at the headquarters with only one fist fight on the way. High doses of coffee, cognac, jaegermeister, Airag (fermented horse milk), traditional noodles, horseshoes (pastry), and manti later, and we’re basically part of the furniture now, and organising a karaoke night and winter camping trip to the Gobi desert with the club.
<< Rewind >>