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Shattered romance

Day 8: Poo-ville to Ulaan Baatar

Okay maybe there was an excessive amount of poo talk in Day 7, but you have to realize there is just nothing else here. Poo and grass, grass and poo. Plus I am traumatized and cannot rebuild my life until I verbalize the atrocities of the last 24 hours. I have calculated that if there are 73 million domesticated animals and each goes to the toilet 2x a day, then Mongolia produces one BILLION poops a week. I think that’s on the low side because Rick’s horse pooped on my horse at least three times a day.

In the morning we are given broth with something unidentifiable floating in it, possibly mutton, possibly poo, but I don’t get close enough to confirm. The van has broken down and Chinzo is dead to the world. Two hours later the driver rouses both the van and Chinzo and we are off for the final leg. It was so rainy it was impossible to not track poo into the van, so it follows us all ten hours to Ulaan Baatar. Serious question, if Ghengis did so much for Mongolia, and he did accomplish many things, why wouldn’t he have implemented toilets and running water?

Chinzo is silent the entire day due to his hangover, and everyone but Rick and I have food poisoning. I’ve been in no danger of getting food poisoning because that involves eating actual food, but some streak of luck caused Rick to order vegetable dumplings instead of mutton dumplings for lunch yesterday (not on the menu, they had to make them up separately) so he’s not stricken either.

Finally, Ulaan Baatar! Not a city I would care to spend time in but welcome after a week on the road. In the hotel I run to the bathroom, kneel to the floor in worship, and hug the toilet as tight as I can. I caress its shiny seat, stroke its rounded tank, run my fingers lightly down its porcelain spine. This is love.

Then I drop my watch in it which renders my beloved useless, but oh well, better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.

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