A long time back – must be fifteen years ago now – I lived in Mongolia. I was a volunteer, very young, passionate, working with a city government department on the intractable problem of homelessness in Ulaanbaatar. The department was so poor it couldn’t pay its electricity bills. I’d sit in a tiny office by myself, at the only computer with an internet connection (because I’d paid for one), 20 below Celsius outside. Inside
wasn’t much warmer. Eventually I managed to get the department some funding from an international source, which they’d never had before. For myself I got an exotic intestinal parasite and a wild year drinking and sleeping with the other volunteers, playing cricket with the Indian expatriate community, and getting extorted regularly by the local constabulary (I once paid a ‘fine’ to two police officers for ‘playing chess too loudly’ in my apartment). One of the best years of my life.
These days I’m not young and passionate anymore, just cynical and hard-bitten. On the upside, I no longer have exotic parasites. Also on the upside: friends randomly send me links with anything to do with Mongolia. I do so enjoy it when a Mongolian music clip turns up in my inbox. Especially one that turns out to be genuinely good. This has it all: throat singing, traditional instruments, a rocking beat, and a chorus of bikies.
Enjoy: