I was expecting blue skies next morning, but no luck. It stopped raining at 8:00 though, so by the time I left everything was dry. Not much wind neither, but, sadly, the little bit of wind running wasn’t tail wind.
The road is straight there. Which means you go up and down all the time. Paved 100% still. Good.
At this point, I was fully aware of what Mongolia is. The fields, the skies, the unending landscape, the vastness, the loneliness. I liked it, but it started to feel a little bit boring. Must be honest.
I came up with some funny and nice monuments half way through; the marking of the different Provinces. Good. I also started to see (and feel) some moskitoes, specially as the day got warmer (towards lunchtime). Bad. Arrived to a town, Bayannuur, where I had some (very nice!) food, but felt a little bit empty, more like a desert town in some other country. Regular.
Dunes appeared on the horizon and in the middle of the hills; they were small yellow patches in the middle of the green scenary.
I arrived like that to Dashinchilen, which, again, was a small town where time stops. Quite nice, must say. There was internet but I couldn’t have a shower. One of those Mongolian contradictions… I looked for a river, but the only one there was was small, with almost no water, and the water was muddy from kettle. The “hotel” where I stayed was attached to a discobar, so the music (shitty occidental pop/dance music from the radioformulas I hate so much) was loud.
Some Italians showed up for dinner. Good chance to know what was ahead, specially in terms of roads, since they had been in the country 12 times; I discovered, on the following days, they had no clue at all. Or maybe they did have some idea, but it was their idea. From their words and what I found later on I discovered that yes, Mongolia is a changing country.