It seems strange writing about Ulaanbaatar now. We’ve been on the road for days, and they’ve all meshed together. But let’s make this blog as complete a record of stops as possible. UB was our first. We arrived in a couple of Japanese Prius’s, which are the most abundant car in Mongolia. When I say Japanese, I mean complete with right-side steering wheel (even though Mongolians drive on the right), kanji menus, and sweet female Japanese voice speaking instructions to you that ostensibly no one in the car understands. Oh and these are pretty much the Mongolian taxi service by extension of the fact that every single driver on the road is a possible taxi service (Uber not necessary), and almost everyone drives a Prius. Or a Land Cruiser.

But enough about the horses we rode in on. Our guesthouse was in the courtyard of some apartment complex above some hidden-away offices. It didn’t look great. The entrance looked like the back-door to a dive bar. But go up the stairs and through the heavy door and it’s actually a pretty standard hostel. I’d solidly recommend UB Guesthouse to anyone visiting the city. Even though it’s said to be closed permanently on Google. It’s not closed. I don’t know what that’s about.

  
The mess across our beds was common place.

For the first two nights our bikes were stored on one of the many tiny terraces and on the third day we put our bikes together by the front door next to a small children’s park. The third night we locked our bikes up in the secure-enough stairway.

 
The garbage men took an interest in our bikes and, in the Mongolian fashion, physically examined the thing that drew their curiosity. Which was fine.