nov 4 th 2009 Romania Bucharest

24 – Malawi

music from ” 247 ” album ” My EGO  ”

49.1 – Spain ( Canary Islands )

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Flight 06:30 ”

53 – Switzerland

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Sadness ”

58 – Serbia

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Sex on the Phone”

59 – Bosnia and Herzegovina

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Who Am I ”

60 – Montenegro

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Ulaanbaatar”

61 – Kosovo

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Mongol”

62 – Bulgaria

music from ” INGIDO ” album ” Hands Up ”

63 – Macedonia

music from ” INGIDO ” album ” Summer ”

64 – Romania

music from ” INDIGO ” album ” Shaman the first Trance”

Transports from 4th nov 2005- 4th nov 2009.

music from ”INGIDO” album ” Suman Delt”

Thanks to my friend Tuya for translations of my diary in to english.

Try to imagine the Mongolian backpacker in the middle of the jungle with armed rebels ALONE!

-Have you gone mad, Zoloo? I queried myself. I was surrounded by men in military uniform who puzzled by my presence kept their mutterings directed at me:

-Who Da F… is this guy?

I did not know well the man I was riding with. It felt almost surreal to ride and share a stranger’s motorbike through jungles of Africa again, an insurgency battered land where ceasefire had been declared not long ago.

-Zoloo, haven’t you learned from your previous experience in Congo? How it feels to travel all alone through a land with rebels and civil unrest? Fear was constant; I had to be alert since any random person could potentially pose a danger. That time I swore that I would never test my luck like that again! Yet, today I am travelling once more through such land and not in a company of group of people but alone saddled in the back of a stranger fully realizing there was no other way either.

If anything happens… and I tried to assess possible risks and means to defend myself. I could sense tension the air and each passing motorbike could pose potential threat to me. I still remembered hostile looking men descending from their car at the last village stop. Am I becoming addicted to danger? As my heart pounded faster I tried to reassure myself that nothing can go wrong.

If my parents found out today that I am riding on a motorbike towards through a jungle in one of the few countries who manage to stay in the news…I was intimidated by the thoughts of what might happen in instance if I get captured or get into any sort of trouble.

Tropical jungle was passing along the road and I remembered how dark the jungle was in Congo and how practically it would be impossible to find me there.

Since I decided to ride that motorbike a plate was mounted on it displaying “AMAI SECURITY 5”.

However, my foremost worry was about carbon copies of the photos I took since Egypt and which I was carrying in my backpack. For the last 5 months I was fighting my small battle of survival. Having never heard in my life about a foreigner, save along Mongolian, who travelled through insurgents’ territory I started realizing madness of my decision. I will never forget this experience but I had to survive it first.

Although my skin color is not completely white I still attracted local people’s attention and I was getting used to it.

There weren’t villages where they did not point fingers at me.

We stopped at small African village located along the road. Huts made of assembled tree branches similar in shape to Mongolian ger with mud lined walls, typical of villages I visited before. When the guy stopped his motorcycle I thought “What is now?” and my heart started pounding faster. Because French is the official language of Ivory Coast I could not understand what he was saying. Somehow I realized he was telling me to dismount his bike.

Near the road on dusty side there were several men sitting inside a small tent. Without taking into account an old man sitting in the middle other five men near him bore pretty unsympathetic look.

All wore different colour military uniforms and since each also wore sunglasses they were seizing me openly. Although I could not see their eyes I tried to hold their stare and show that I am no less a man. I was never a contentious person though as someone who grew up in the city I had my fair share of dirty looks from provokers in the movies and bars. I stood like a performer in front of those six men and I felt uncomfortable.

A man in his 40’s, who looked like a real combat soldier compared to others, approached me and while chewing on a matchstick demanded “Your document and your pass!”

My driver shrunk like a rabbit. He got shouted “You, pay 500 francs!” In turn the driver started explaining him something. I’ve just realized why the fee was expensive, 7000. Even though previous night when it was dark and I surrounded by militants I was not as intimidated. Yesterday there were many people around, but today I felt uneasy standing alone in the middle of forest in a company of men with their Kalashnikovs. Is it Hollyood movie about African rebels?

-“Who are you?”

-“Journalist, I am here to put together report about your country and activities of UN. Yesterday couple of our cars must have passed here. I was left behind and now I am trying to catch up with them on my own.” I had no other choice but to make up this answer and see what happens.

I heard that not long ago couple of UN, Bangladeshi peacekeepers trucks passed towards this direction. Since they stand all day here they must know about UN trucks. I showed them my picture that I took with UN peacekeepers and right away overcame with regret about exposing my camera.

He stood checking my passport but it was obvious that he has never seen visa in his life before.

In most African countries there are military backed checkpoints and it has become an established custom for everyone to present their identification to any men in uniform. Hence I thought, perhaps this man was one time a herder and when there was outbreak of civil war he fought for his current rank and now out of his own habit he was checking my documents.

I also guessed that he might the type who likes Hollywood action films. Who wears ROCKY sunglasses and talks this way with a match stick in their mouth?! I didn’t even realize it at first hand.

While I was standing in from of them my driver had decided to take in another person to travel with us. I protested to this; through such bad road, with my backpack and extra passenger. I did not want such burden. Plus, since we were passing through a land with insurgents everywhere it would be better if we are by ourselves. However it was important to divert the attention of soldiers-hence I started arguing with the driver.

-Ok, ok I shall stay here then. You take the man and leave! That said I dismounted my backpack from the bike. The driver changed his mind and started tying back my backpack.

The men who were planning to take my money by beleaguering me in unknown land stood stunned by my act. The man who might have had only one wish to get out of here says-I will wait here until next vehicle comes by!

That was my intention to appear as unintimidated as possible.

I turned around and asked for my passport back.

They said-If you don’t have special pass we can’t let you go.

-My passport has a stamp of your superior officer, I replied to them and I showed them the stamp that I got at the police station occupied by rebels. I realized that the superior officer tried to replace the special pass with the stamp.

I remembered that back at the location where there were insurgencies they asked for money for this pass. They solicit money by selling such passes-hence when I refused to pay money they naturally did not issue me pass. Although the soldier made hints for money I directed my attention to an elderly man. From my experience of 2 years in Africa I knew that in such small villages the chieftains as a rule are old men.

-Do you want hear music?

-What music?

I demonstrated some beatbox and some Huumii style singing. They were all amazed and the old man was astonished a little.

The others could not believe that music was coming out of my mouth. Because most of the time there is no electric power they listen to whatever music is available through old-fashioned transistor radio and when someone plays the music from radio with just mouth they feel natural reverence.

Thus when I was about to retrieve my passport the man who was holding it said-Give us at least money for food, we are starving. I drew out one of the cookie boxes that the Bangladesh peacekeepers gave me; I unpacked it and invited them. Although they were little annoyed by the fact that their plan to collect money came down to just cookies nevertheless they were pleased with the taste of it. If I didn’t un-wrap the cookie box they would have thought the gift was insignificant.

I mounted the bike and we started moving away. I was worried that they would call from behind but they were satisfied with the music and the tasty cookies.

We were back on the road.

In accordance with my previous experience I slipped my sleeping bag underneath myself and it felt like I was riding on a couch.

We rode through several villages and people kept on giving me bewildered looks. We kept on moving until we reached the next security check. According to the rule of 3, if you pass the first test the following is usually not that hard, because they think that if he was inspected once before he should be fine.

When I entered a hut I found two youngsters sitting inside.

Only yesterday they might have been playing soccer with their peers but now they have assumed the role of gun touting hotshots. One of them showed off his Kalashnikov in his right hand by placing it on the table in my direction. Just like in pranks.

The message did not directly read “I will kill you” but they were testing me. The youngster did not easily scare someone who went through gun powder, bomb zones, and someone who was held at rear sight by Kalashnikov. I doubted that they would carry out any decision since they were too young. Also I could be someone they should not be touching since I passed the first security point. However they said “Money!”

I knew that such guards have nothing else to do but to peer into the empty road all day for an opportunity to make some money and in hopes that someone will show up. When someone finally stops by they can be quite a nuisance.

While they examined my passport they tried to initiate a chat but my lack of linguistic ability helped me to avoid it successfully.

The driver stood staring at one of them. In the past when soldiers asked him to pay I usually was able to help him avoid it and therefore he had confidence in me.

Journalist, UN, Liberia, Mongolia, I tried to slip these words into my limited vocabulary of broken French hoping to solve the issue.

In the face of soldiers, rebel boys who were prepared to do anything just to rip something off of me I decided to repeat my previous trick. I offered my cookies to everyone and as I jumped on the motorbike I made it known that the driver was with me.

People get used to the lifestyle where there are insurgencies. One has to learn to adapt well without neglecting own business. I understood that these people were struggling to survive on their own regardless of burdens of securities, checkups, and harassment.

They endure to support their families.

People go to work in the morning and hope to return safely in the evening to their houses-in a country where there is no effective law enforcement whoever possesses a gun becomes the law itself and I saw from the aggravated face of my driver how tough it must be to survive in such conditions.

A person who has at least heard rifle sound will certainly survive like in this land of wolves if he exercises certain nonchalance, posture and confidence.

I thought it wouldn’t harm if I uttered here and there few local phrases and shook the brothers’ hands in RAP style.

We were back on the road and although on the next station we encountered again two guards the security check was not complicated. As I did before I mentioned again the words UN truck, journalist, and my stamp. As I settled back on the road I was leaving behind in the villages of tropics subject for news and gossips, enough to last for few days, image of my Mongolian face.

Africans have black skin color and whether I hang out in the club or at train station they take notice right away.

Then I approached the border.

We stopped at one settlement. Few people under a tree, men in military uniforms chatting with girls perhaps joking in their African manner, anyway stood entertaining each other. One of them took notice of me and escorted me to one room. He said 10 thousand francs and I will put a stamp.

-I am a journalist and no one up until now charged me anything. Why should you? Put the stamp on!

-No, I will stamp only if you pay, he replied in a stubborn manner.

Another man approached and asked me to show my backpack. I opened my backpack and was able to get hold of it back when I explained that I was a journalist and that I was with UN. When I showed them my photos with Bangladeshi soldiers that were stored in my camera they finally understood that I was UN and overcame their suspicion. I approached again the guard and asked him “Please, put a stamp on!”

-No, I won’t put the stamp on, you go away, immediately!

-How can I leave without it?

-Go, go

I took on my backpack, thanked the driver and secretly slipped him his pay 4000 francs.

When I came out from the office there were two rebels kneeling. Your passport, they said. I stood thinking if the passport is overly decorous everybody will be checking it infinitely.

When they asked for stamp I showed them the stamp that I got at their police headquarter. You may go, they said but you need to pay.  I started again my rhetoric of being a journalist and etc.

Hence I retrieved back my passport and started walking down a road. Behind a small ditch I detected a Liberian flag slightly similar in appearance to American. As I stood snapping a shot of Liberia’s side I remembered the man from the border.

I begged him to put a stamp and he refused to put one unless I paid. If I was able to proceed anyway without it what was the purpose of that stamp? For some reason I assumed that the guy must have been at some point a country bumpkin who rose all of a sudden to the position of border patrol office and when he found some stamp in his drawer he took into his habit charging money for using it. That must have been the reason of his haughtiness when I asked him to put a stamp.

Thus, as I walked towards the Liberian border I amused myself with the thought about the man who most likely thought about me: “Ha ha troubles are awaiting you without my stamp!” I chuckled. What a joker.

As I walked over a wooden bridge on the left hand side I noticed remains of train track. I started pacing towards the UN flag with blue inscriptions on it that was visible on Liberia’s side.

What had just happened during these two days?

Where and what have I been doing? If I shall recite my story to friends they wouldn’t believe! “Mongolian and went through rebel zone ?

Alone?” they shall question.

Till this day I remember the face of that guy with the stamp. He he he

This might have been so far the most challenging part of my travel. I shall hope. From this experience and on whenever I see films about wars or on similar topics I get instant flashbacks of what I experienced.

19 jul 2009. Serbia Belgrade.

So far I visited around 62 countries of Asia, Africa and Europe, and I plan to tour at least as much. To travel across, literally, the entire planet. However, only four or five countries give me that amazing feeling, only for them I can say they are really great. Among them is Serbia, a country of my dreams, in which I returned. These are the words that I hear from mr Zolbajar, long-haired 30-year-old from Mongolia who’s been traveling around the world for the past three and a half years. On the Internet, just as in many countries he visited, he had already become a hit, known by his nickname – Amai The Mongol. Obscure light in a Belgrade cafe where we met, the night before his departure to Kosovska Mitrovica, from where he will go to Bulgaria,
illuminates the scar on his forehead. Amai shrugs his shoulders.

- Trust me, buddy, I have no idea how I earned this. I know only that I was last night, in Vojvodina, and that I was drinking “pelinkovac”. But I guess that night was totally crazy – he said with a smile. Then he presses my recorder and starts telling his incredible life story, revealing what forced this young man with three degrees, who is also a journalist, writer, musician and the first Mongolian DJ, to go with a backpacks throughout the continents, driven by the nomadic hunger from the blood of
his ancestors …
- This trip is in my blood. There’s this ancient nomadic Mongolian tradition called badarhin. It indicates the need for young people to go where they have never been, and return richer because of a great experience. Only then can we settle down and start a family. For more than a century, the custom was forgotten, and I decided to renew it.
- I think I’ll be able to visit at least 150 countries in four or five years. I describe my travels, I have a website, and sometimes my journeys can be read in Mongolian newspapers. All I know, I will go back to my country until I do what I imagined.
- Sometimes I find accommodation, sometimes I just plant a tent by the road … One of my rules is “do not leave anything behind.” I collect everything in one pile and set it on fire. Wardrobe, garbage, things that I got … Even my hair. This is one of the nomadic rules, do not pollute nature.
- I had a dream – to visit Yugoslavia. Many people from my country, especially the young, wanted to come here. We never thought that much about America or Japan, but about you. You were our role models. Once, as a kid, I think in 1997, I went to the embassy of Yugoslavia in Ulaanbataar, to see what I need for a visa. And the guy at the consulate told me: “You know something, I have no idea for which country you could use this, because I’m not sure who I represent here. I can issue you a
visa for Yugoslavia.”
- I didn’t go then, but here I am now. The first time I arrived here, by train, I was greeted by the ugly side of the railway station. I saw old buildings and quite unhappy people, and I was stunned. Is this the land of my dreams, I asked myself? But then I saw the whole town, the whole country, and I loved it.
- Serbia is one of the greatest countries. Syria, Montenegro, Serbia… That’s what I like. I was here last spring, and then I came back because of the Universiade and “EXIT”. People are good, attentive, and I feel completely safe. From here I went to Bosnia and Montenegro, and I was especially enchanted by Herceg Novi.
- I noticed that many people from Serbia and ex-Yugoslavia want to go abroad to earn money. I do not understand it. I tell my friends from here: “Money isn’t everything. Abroad, you will be just a number. And here, you are the people.”
Amai tells me that the girls in the Balkans are, perhaps, the most beautiful in the world, but there’s something in them he doesn’t like.
- I see girls in high heels, in short skirts, as if they stepped from the fashion runway. Whenever I go out to a club, either in Belgrade or in Montenegro, I almost feel sick how good they look. But it is often just empty beauty. They do not play small, sweet games with the guys, like they don’t know how to flirt, to outsmart guys…

Bananas and Rakija
Whenever I go to a country, I eat local food, drink, drink, try to learn as many words in that language.
- The hardest thing was when I had to eat fish. We Mongols almost never eat it. Also, Africa. Banana for breakfast, banana for lunch, butter banana, banana cake … And the next morning – bananas again. So I’m better when I come to countries like Serbia, where the food is really good.
- In Mongolia we have beer and brandy made from milk. Some beverages make you violent, some make you happy. Serbian brandy makes you happy. That’s one of the things I’d bring to Mongolia and tell people “Those Serbs really drink this a lot”

7 th of may 2009. Bosnia and Hercegovina. Banja Luka. interview in newspaper Nezavisne.

MONGOL TRAVELLING

In history of people of Mongolia there is an ancient tradition, a kind of mission, called badarchin. That would mean that a young man, who has certain skills and education, and is matured enough, takes a bag and two sticks and go for a long trip. His task would be to go by foot, to walk through various difficulties, experience pain and collect knowledge and experiences, and than, after some time, to get back to his people and tell them what he has learned.

Recently, a modern badarchin came in BiH. Jambalsurena Zolbajar, known as Amai, 4^th of November 2005 started his adventure – a trip around the world and BiH is 59th country he has visited. He plans to visit at least 150 countries and 6 continents before he gets back to Mongolia.

“For many years we haven’t heard of badarchines, like this tradition has vanished. I wanted to renew this tradition and to investigate possibilities of travelling for Mongolian people, thus giving the opportunity to my people, specially our youth, to go to foreign countries. I write about all countries I see along the way, from Mongolian point of view – about the people who live there and about what a Mongolian traveller could expect there. I am trying to compare all those countries with Mongolia and their cultures with ours.” says Amai.

Mongolia is last nomad civilisation in the World. Soviet Union tried to erase that culture for 70 years, but such a long and rich history couldn’t be erased during two or three generations.

“People of other cultures come from cultures of cities. That is not in Mongolian tradition, but now, especially because of globalisation, Mongolia has to put together both those traditions.” says Amai.

OPENING UP TO OTHER CULTURES: Amai today, being 30years old, has very rich life experience. He was born in Ulan Bator 28^th of June 1979 in a family where knowledge was appreciated. Amai’s father is history professor at National University of Mongolia. He comes from country side and had been working in Russian University in Irkutsk – Sibir for 5 years. Amai’s mother is economist, coming from city family. Amai has lived in Soviet Union for some time, where he had seen last years of communistic system. He got back in Mongolia in 1991. At University of Politic Sciences in Ulan Bator, he has finished the studies of Foreign Politics.

Before he started his long and lonesome travelling, Amai was vanguard artist, in Mongolia. He was amongst first people to bring electronic music in Mongolia from the West, combining it with traditional Nomad sounds. He has also studied other cultures and countries without prejudges, thus decision of exceptional life undertaking came spontaneously.

“I believe that every person, within himself defines what he wants to do or be in life. That one knows if he is going to be a mathematician, basketball player or economist. When I was 13 years old, I knew I wanted to travel and everything I did led to it; my education was preparing to learn more, to be open to other nationalities and cultures. “Amai recalls.

It was sometimes very difficult to find informations of some countries in Mongolian language. Though he can speak Russian and English, he sometimes found that informations are not always consistent with what he had learned before.

As he gets to know other cultures, he also tries to pass the massage of Mongolia to them, to tell people he meets about his country. About who are Mongolian people and how they live. This is why he tries to visit the Universities of all towns he come to, and have a presentation about Mongolia and about the journey he has been on for three and a half years by now. Today he is going to have presentation and lecture at Philosophy Faculty in Banjaluka.

FROM RUSSIA TO SOUTHEAST ASIA: On his journey, he went across Russia, visited Scandinavian countries and Western Europe, than travelled on south, across Italy and Greece and to Middle East, and than also to Africa.

“In Africa, I visited 32 countries and got back to Europe, where I have already seen 20 countries. I plan to head for Central Asia after I have seen Balkanian countries, there I’m going to be on the very border of my country, but I’m not going to cross it, because three years and six months of being out of my country are very tough period. After that I’m going back to Europe, to visit countries I had not yet been to, and then I’m going to go to South and North America, Australia and Southeast Asia. “says Amai about his plans.

One of decision Amai made about his journey is to travel mostly by roads, so he could see most of the nature and meet people. During three and half years, he travelled by aeroplane only twice, and he had been using all kinds of transport, including helicopters, elephants, horses, donkeys, camels, trains, boats…

“I haven’t been home, and I’m probably not going to Mongolia for next 6years, until my journey around the world is finished. It’s tough, but it is my decision. We carry Mongolian plains within us and I know people who do not live in Mongolia and cry at night wanting to see the plains, to feel the freedom. “ says Amai.

PROBLEMS WITH VISAS: For Amai, the journey is more complicated than for citizens of other countries because of the visas Mongolian citizens needs. Most of countries don’t have embassy in Mongolia, it was only after downfall of communism in 1992 Mongolia started to open up and make diplomatic relations towards countries of the world.

“Mongolia is much like Bosnia and Herzegovina. I remember hearing from people in my country that ex Yugoslavia was ideal of all communistic countries. People from Mongolia, who was able to come in Yugoslavia for studies, considered that a big success, just as if somebody could go to America to study today.” says Amai.

Just as everyone in Mongolia, Amai was surprised when he heard that Yugoslavia fell apart, and that there was war going on.

“Nobody understood what had happened, that was a reason more for me to be interested in these areas. I would like to find the reasons for conflicts between the citizens of such respectable country. How can it be possible for people who lived so well together to turn against each other. In my experience, there is no bad people, there are only bad situations. “ says Mongolian traveller.

In BiH embassy in Zagreb Amai tried to get the visa for BiH, but he was refused with explanation that Mongolian citizens can get that visa only in Peking in China. The fact that he is travelling for a few years now, and that he had often asked and got visas in embassies in near by countries, did not help. “No” was the final answer. He went to Serbia, one of the rear countries that he did not need visa for. Since he is very persistent, he decided to try once more, in embassy in Belgrade, where he got his visa in a few hours.

“I was very surprised, how was it possible, that foreign politics of one country can be so very different in embassies two neighbouring countries. Afterwards I heave learned that it was common in this country, and though it is confusing, I will try my best to understand and learn more of your people.” says Amai.

Even more surprised he was when he learned that there was a Mongolian woman living in Banjaluka. He does not know yet how long is he going to stay in BiH, he knows that he is going to go to Sarajevo soon, and in Montenegro afterwards.

Badarchin is writing down his impressions from his journey, that are going to be gathered in a book, which is about to have some very interesting informations in it. For now, he reveals that rakija is going to be described as a drink that can warm ones soul, and that he is delighted by beautiful girls in Banjaluka.

Thanks to my friend TUYA for her second English translation of my diary
August 28, 2008 Nouakchott, capital city of Mauritania
People who follow my travel diaries from their office or home may feel envious about adventures and experiences that I have lived and may become tempted to resort into traveling themselves.
So, do you really want to travel around the world?
I always feel grateful for the opportunities I was provided during my journey, to observe many different countries, their cultures, and wonders. However, if someone would approach me today at home with a proposal:
-Would you be interested in joining around the world trip? Without hesitation I would have refused.
Travelling is an ordinary vacation you take to one country that you can safely leave and return home in case you happen not to like it. Traveling around the world is a long journey that you just have to carry on regardless of your liking or distaste, until its purpose is fulfilled.
You may stop to rest and suspend the time temporarily at any location you may find favorable, but once the time is up, you resume the walk again. Although I can see where the end for this journey lies, the duration and risks remain largely hidden. It appears from the posted comments, that most of my readers did not have much travelling experience; except that they lived in one specific location-therefore they do not apprehend the meaning of these notes to its fullest extent.
When it comes to reading and processing information, often times, Mongolians draw their conclusion based on their educational background or what they have actually experienced. Seldom there are people who actually reflect on my notes and who try to see the world through my eyes. People who understand its purpose are even rare. Although it is not necessary that you completely agree with my points, it may be just as compelling to just try to understand them.

August 25. 2008. Sahara desert, 150 km from the capital of Mauritania.
I opened my eyes in the morning and I see the ceiling of my tent. The dream I had was a recollection of my memories; homemade meal and playtime with friends.
In order to stretch fully I have to sleep diagonally in my tiny tent. In the past when I didn’t own a tent, I constantly slept in different places and used to wake up with unpleasant feeling. Everyday different people, ceilings, and a scent alien to my senses. However, with acquisition of my tent, insignificant but still agreeable stability entered into my nomadic life. There were situations when I had to sleep 30 days in 30 different places and I try to remember events from the preceding day and my whereabouts. This idea may sound remote to you, but try living yourself in 30 different places within 30 days and that is not inclusive of just touring Mongolia or visiting countries where you speak the language.
The sun was already high and soon I will have to get up as it will become unbearable to stay in the tent. Instead, I decided to ponder little bit about purpose of my trip, while devouring peaceful moment within my cramped space and given the limited time. I recalled phone conversations with my parents and how often they bid me to take good care of my health. When traveling you always have to adapt to climate change, nutrition, physical and mental pressure, possible dangers in new destinations. In these conditions, it is difficult to worry about one’s health; It is more suitable to turn back and return home rather than worrying about such matters.
Initially, when I was just starting to make travel plans, I tried to envision all the possible obstacles and solutions to them. However, I was unaware what was exactly awaiting me as at the time there weren’t any publications available in Mongolian from someone who travelled all 7 continents. With these travel notes I wish to provide better knowledge in order to aid those who wish to succeed me.
The entries that I make from time to time concerning visa issues are just one of the many problems. For people from some countries such issue is not big of a deal, whereas for me it poses a major headache (I assume that people from other countries other than Europe, U.S., or Japan, find it pointless then to even think about traveling. Same here is for Mongolians). I felt however emotionally prepared because I come from a country where you get used to the idea of rejection that comes with visa denial. When I inquired about it from western people, they replied with such unlike western people who not even aware about this problem.

Language is also an interesting issue … Once, a foreigner confronted me:
“Since you speak 4-5 languages, in what language do you think first?” I realized that I started thinking already in English. When I compose my entries I imagine in English sentences and then render it into Mongolian. Perhaps, now you understand the reason behind the frequent mistakes I make in my compositions. In order not to forget my native language I resort sometimes into monologues with myself and when I enter new country I try to learn new language. Everyday I struggle to communicate with different people. Sometimes, I even resent the idea of speaking to people. Nonetheless, the communication becomes unavoidable. As they say, when in Rome do as the Romans do, especially when it comes to finding food, shelter, and means of transportation, I do not have much choice but to follow the local customs. The world speaks multitude of languages and not everybody speaks English. Eventually I lost count on my fingers the languages that I know how to greet.
I wonder why we, Mongols did not impose our linguistic culture on others when we were building vast empire? That way on par with English, French, or Spanish I wouldn’t be spending 20 minutes explaining what I wanted to eat!

How lonely it is to be the only Mongol!
To be the last person to understand or not to understand completely what is happening around and being discussed at parties or social events. To sit with group of people, who speak different language than you, and try to guess what is being discussed is a wacky stuff. It’s a pure amusement to try to fish out familiar word from the pool of unfamiliar sounds.
Try to watch a film without soundtrack and understand what the film is about. Imagine you have to permanently watch films and TV without soundtrack. That’s just part of my travel. Oh yeah and if you snooze, your TV will snatch away your money, camera, and your backpack in a blink of an eye! Hehe
-Oh, na nana na na nana na anan Station nanan na na an anna ana nanna an naan an foundation na na an na na an. It is impossible to guess meaning from such sentence, but it is also awkward to ask questions incessantly. Thus my days are spent in real humiliation.
Would you belive me if I say that the only detail I didin’t think about while preparing my journey was actually LONELINESS !?
The agony is not food poisoning, visa, or finances, but actually loneliness.
As I change move on daily or weekly basis there is little to no opportunity to make friends. People’s names, faces fade away with fleeting images of cities and streets. By all means there is a lot of opportunity to meet new people and make some really good acquaintances, but in overall I realize that time is essential in developing anything meaningful. I assume you wouldn’t share your most intimate details and troubling thoughts of your life with casual acquaintance. And what if your friend is of different nationality? How do you overcome the issue of linguistic barrier? For if you try to talk about your state of solitude and he will think that you are talking about your family, wouldn’t it makes sense to shift the topic into more elementary level and consider talking about food, music or other simple matters?
Truly I miss the kind of friends who have similar traits of thought; the type of friends with whom I could share all the accumulated thoughts, who, if shall not provide all the answers to troubling thoughts, but at least listen sympathetically and reciprocate with me.
I come to regard my website as my closest mate and your comments to be his sincerest responses. What’s use for experiences if they cannot be shared with others?
In Paris, while observing the Eiffel Tower for the first time I thought:
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if my family, girlfriend, or my best friend were right here with me; If not for the drinks to cheer then at least for the pure thrill that we could share?
There wouldn’t be any more necessity to put my camera on timer and try to run for automated snapshot. The difference between having and not having a friend is that, when you need to be alone with your thoughts you can just draw temporary seclusion by sitting away from your friend, however loneliness does not have the option of companionship.
For the last six months in a row I’ve greeted morning by myself, never mind the warm embraces, but wouldn’t it be nice to just have someone who would say “Good Morning!”
I wake up in the morning and I am alone, breakfast alone, all day alone, and unless by some luck I will encounter someone who speaks Mongolian or English at dinner also alone, time for bed and again alone! Feeling sanguine I assume that tomorrow will be full of surprise.
I really wish to meet someone and yet I am alone!
Recently I found a stuffed teddy bear, just like Tom Hanks’ in Cast Away, he is since my mascotte and accompanies me.
I thought I planned everything well but I missed out on LONELINESS. The fact that I am the first Mongol to travel around the world does not aid my blues.
…It became warm in my tent.
I believe that human being acquired intelligence after he was able to resolve his need for food. Perhaps there is pleasure principle operating at the foundation of progress. However here I am, like some sort of street bum, every morning troubled by thoughts of food. I wrote about refrigerator in my previous entry but it appeared that nobody paid really attention to it, partly may be they never thought about it. There is recurrent thought in me that for a lot people my diaries may constitute a cheap form of entertainment sort of magazine you read and toss out.
-I stopped writing my entries and there were many occasions when I doubted its value. Nonetheless I have not given up entirely on the thought that someday people will understand these entries and hence I spend my valuable time writing days and nights. An experience in the past taught me not to give up. Back in 2000 when I approached one of the radio stations with copy of my trance composition they responded:
-What kind of concept is that? This is just empty music! Thus they responded by returning my tape. But in 2005 right before departing UB, I remember encountering the same person in a night club who upon seeing me stated, “Trance is the real dope man!” forgetting clearly what he said five years previously. It is ironic that he was regarded as one of the most progressive radio hosts that time!
How far are we behind?
…
The day after we celebrated our 2 gold and 2 silver Olympic medals I sat with Europeans without mentioning anything about it. I knew ahead that they would respond “2 Gold and 2 Silver? What is exciting about that?” Only Mauritanians and Tunisians shared genuine joy with me.

… .
I opened my tent and my body soaked the energy that I withdrew from the sense of purposefulness. I looked around and I was enveloped by the desert of Sahara. Did I spend the night all by myself here? Unbelievably amazing!
As I started again packing my bag lost in thoughts of road that was ahead of me, two local girls appeared approaching me with hot tea and bread.
I finished my tea and again I was on the road. There will be continuation to it!
Once I will have better internet connection I shall upload photos. Most of the previous entries did not have photos but now I would like to inform the readers that I uploaded photos to all posts starting from Congo to Sierra Leone. Although my entries are open for public I would like to remind that your emotional and financial support remain crucial for this expedition to take place.

Hello and a warm welcome to my world of lonely traveler.

My name is Jambalsuren ZOLBAYAR – but I prefer use “Amaï ”, my artist name.

I am from Mongolia, a country where the last nomad people on this planet are living in an endless, unspoiled environment. Our civilization is based on nomad values and traditions founded on love and protection of Nature. We believe we have to keep the Nature’s secrets from generation to generation.

As I mentioned it above, I am an artist, a musician more precisely.

On my journey I am following the ancient Mongolian tradition of BADARCHIN.

This is an old Mongol tradition coming from the nomads: At that time, young high skilled men, provided with the best education were going for a long journey after they had grown up and rich maturity, to emprove their knowledge and search for anwers.

Sort of messenger, explorer, ambassador, journalist of the ancient times, BADARCHINS used to explore, understand and learn about the lands and countries they crossed, spread news and information from all parts of the world and brought back knowledge to their people.

Thus BADARCHIN had always been very well-respected by Mongols who used to offer them great hospitality and honors. Marco Polo was one the few foreign traveler accepted as a BADARCHIN by Mongols and one of the most respected in history.

This tradition had been abandoned in practice through the times, but is still vivid in people’s mind as a great Mongol culture heritage.

So in order to follow the tradition this tradition that I embraced as a vocation, I left Mongolia at the age 25, on November 4 – 2005, to go around the world, pass all 6 continents (Asie, Europe, Africa, America, Antartic, Australia) and visit at least 150 countries.

During the past centuries my country has experienced long periods of blockades from the Manjur occupation to the communist regime of USSR making it very difficult for Mongols to explore other cultures and civilizations, and just as difficult for foreigners to visit Mongolia.

Thus until around 1990 Mongols lost contact with the outside world.

And the outside world lost contact with us.

Therefore, as a BADARCHIN, the purpose of my world-travel is not only to educate myself – but also to educate the rest of the world about the proud history, nomad culture and mystical traditions of Mongolia. This is also to educate Mongols who are not able to go and explore the outside world, telling them from a Mongol point of view about all its traditions, cultures and beautiful places.

Thus I wish is to be a bridge that opens Mongolia to the rest of the world.

Because we, Mongols, want to be open to others, and at the same time we need others to understand and respect our culture and traditions in order to preserve our way of living for the upcoming generations.

Finally I have a brief message to all my friends I have been given to meet during my journey:

Please, be kind to write a bit about me and about what you think of my mission. Tell also the place and time we met and good memories about what we have shared.

This is partly to have a further documentation and testimonies on my travel but also to make it easier for people I will meet in the future to understand who I am, where I am from, and what I am doing.

As you might understand it is very difficult for me to explain the same things everyday with the same intensity to all the people I meet. Thus I believe that an external point of view from people who know me or have already met me would be interesting.

I am sure this will help me to give a better introduction to the new people I will meet on my endless journey.

Amaï.

Pls read and write your comments on right top side of my blog!

Amai the Mongol

Jambalsuren Zolbayar, commonly known as Amai (his artist name) was born on June 28^th, 1979 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, during the communist time into an intellectual elite family (his father is a university teacher and his mother is an economist). He grew up in Ulaanbaatar however soon the family moved to the Soviet Union to the city of Irkutsk because of his father`s work. There he studied in a Soviet school for four years until the age of twelve, learning the Russian language and culture from very early on. After communism collapsed and relations between the two countries died down, the family had to return to Mongolia.

In 1991 Amai entered the very elitist high school N°23. This was the time when the iron curtain fell, after 70 years of ideological brainwash and communist autarky, letting him discover Western culture with the greatest interest and enthusiasm. During the same time he watched his homeland spiraling down endlessly into an economic and political crisis. He and most Mongols got blinded by the glittering lights of New York, Tokyo and Paris, forgetting about Mongolia`s rich heritage.

After having graduated from high school in 1997 and upon realizing Mongolia`s backwardness in comparison to other more modern and developed nations, Amai became an avant-garde artist and musician, promoting electro music and thereby giving the youth, Mongolia`s lost generation, a chance to see the world with different eyes.

At the same time while both working at Andrew Style FM, the Mongolian-based Mongolian-Ukrainian radio station as well as managing the UFO Nightclub in Ulaanbaatar, Amai studied at the Mongolian National University where he graduated with a Bachelor of Foreign Affairs in Japanese Studies. Soon after, he enrolled in the Academy of Business and Administration of Mongolia and the Mongolian University of Culture.

In addition, to satisfy his endless curiosity Amai took multiple courses, as for example electricity, computer sciences, traditional Mongolian music, design, video editing and photography.

Amai was able to fully express himself by means of the progressively managed studio he created with the help of family investments. His goal was to promote new movements through music, video, design, events and other forms of expression to open the mind of the “lost generation” he once belonged to as well.

In 2001, Amai laid the foundation for the “Club 21” movement with the goal to unify all people who liked electro music. His idea was not only to promote the vibrant electro music culture but to go far, further and beyond and bring more ideas from abroad, not to simply copy and follow, but to understand, learn and create.
“Club 21” organized several well-known PR events involving and uniting Mongolia’s leading musicians, bands, DJ`s and models. Thus in 2005, Amai was nominated as “Best Event Promoter” because of his thoughtful ideas and innovative projects.

Further on, Amai went into production and started to produce the TV program “Club 21”. The idea behind this project was to show to Mongol people the most intriguing clubs, parties and fashion trends to be found throughout the world.
Shootings took place in cities like Singapore, Tokyo, Moscow and Chicago. The programs were edited for broadcast but the project was quickly stopped by censorship after its first broadcast because Mongolian society was not ready to accept what they interpreted as the promotion of alcoholism and bad morals.

Amai composed and released three albums: “I Love You” (2002), “Who Am I” (2003) and “Indigo” (2005).  The latter of which was available for free download on Internet to underline that artist are not merchants.
Through the electro music culture Amai learned more about modern Western culture and experimented with several fusions of the two totally different cultures to create something new.

For him it has been the only way to prevent ancestral cultures from disappearing under the pressure of globalization. Furthermore, Amai believes that this is also a way to make the world understand and feel Mongolia and see it in a different light.

AROUND THE WORLD PROJECT

After all these experiences in arts and entertainment, Amai decided that the time has come to embrace his destiny.

Since November 4^th, 2005 until May 16^th, 2010 he was on a mission around the world following the ancestral Mongol tradition of Badarchin (a traveler and messenger who leaves his safe haven to gain knowledge and seek spiritual enlightenment). He visited 69 countries (Russia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Germany, France, Italy, Vatican State, Greece, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Israel, Palestine, Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi, Mozambique, Swaziland, Lesotho, South Africa, Botswana, Namibia, Angola, Congo Kinshasa, Congo Brazzaville, Gabon, Cameroon, Nigeria, Togo, Benin, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Mali, Senegal, The Gambia, Mauritania, Morocco, Spain, Portugal, Andorra, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia Herzegovina, Montenegro, Kosovo, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Romania, Hungary, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, China) and spent 1665 days on the road before returning home to Ulaanbaatar.

Since Mongolia has been released from the ideological vacuum, Amai`s trip sparked the curiosity of many Mongols. He has been seeking for knowledge and understanding of the world and its various cultures in order to bring back and share his experiences with his people. Also, he wants to explain to the world about the world`s last nomadic civilization which is disappearing in the midst of globalization.

Upon his arrival back to Ulaanbaatar, the Mongolian public gave Amai a very warm welcome at Sukhbaatar Square, the Central Square of the capital. Afterwards he was officially received by the Mongolian President and the Mongolian Prime Minister who showed their respect to Amai and his outstanding venture. Amai has been honored as a “hero of the youth” by the general public. Furthermore, the Union of Peace and Friendship awarded Amai the honorary “Medal of Friendship”, the Mongolian Journalist Association ranked his writings to receive the highest nomination in 2011 and the Academy of Science and Technology of Mongolia thanked Amai by giving him the highest academic medal “Khublai Khaan”. Also, the Academy of Foreign Studies awarded Amai the title of “Professor of Foreign Studies”.

With time passing by and Amai becoming more of a public spokesperson, further awards have been received.

Within one year of having rested from his first travel mission and starting the second project, Amai wrote and published the first two editions of the planned nine books. “Amaizing World” and “Life is beautiful” are both narratives about his travels and his inner journey he keeps on pursuing.

Finally and maybe above all, Amai is a committed traveler, militating against global warming and standing up for the respect and love of the Earth which represents the God Mother in the Mongolian traditional believe Tengirism.

Français

AMAI EN QUELQUES LIGNES :

Jambalsuren Zolbayar vient de Mongolie a Ulaanbaatar.
Plus connu sous le nom de « Amai » son nom d’artiste avant-gardiste ou « Amai le Mongol » son nom de voyageur autour du Monde!

Après la chute du communisme, boulimique de culture occidentale, comme pour rattraper « le temps perdu », il a été le premier à apporter et à composer de la musique electro-trance.

Le 4 novembre 2005, toujours dans sa même quête de culture et d’ouverture au monde après trop d’années d’autarcie communiste, il a quitté sa ville natale pour un voyage autour du monde suivant la tradition ancestrale de BADARCHIN. Il a prévu de traverser 150 pays et 6 continents (antartic inclus), avant de revenir au pays près de 6 ans plus tard…

À travers cette démarche, il cherche à mieux connaître le monde, comprendre les autres cultures tout en partageant son expérience sur son blog avec ses compatriotes en la retraçant de son point de vue mongol …

SON HISTOIRE :

Amai est né le 28 juin 1979 à Ulaanbaatar où il grandit avec ses 3 frères, au sein d’une famille de l’élite intellectuelle communiste (son père était professeur d’histoire communiste à l’université – sa mère économiste).

Puis la famille déménage en URSS suivre un père qui a été muté à Irkutsk pour y enseigner.
Il a environ 8 ans et doit apprendre le Russe pour s’adapter à l’école soviétique où il étudie pendant 4 ans.

Après la chute du communisme, la famille doit rentrer en Mongolie en 1991. Il a alors 12 ans et doit se réadapter au système éducatif Mongol, à la langue… dans le très élitiste lycée N°23 où il obtient son « bac » en 1997.

C’est à la même époque que le rideau de fer s’ouvre enfin… après 70 ans de « lavage de cerveau idéologique et d’autarcie communiste. » (selon ses propres termes).
Il découvre, comme tous ses compatriotes, la culture occidentale, avec le plus grand intérêt et enthousiasme.

Il poursuit ses études à l’Université en « DEUG » de sciences politiques (« foreign affairs »), il poursuit avec un Master à l’Academy of Business & Administration of Mongolia.
Pour satisfaire son insatiable curiosité, il prend aussi une multitude de cours différents : électricité, informatique, graphisme, photo, musique traditionnelle Mongol… à la Mongolian University of Culture.

SA MUSIQUE :

Dés l’ouverture à l’Ouest, en tant qu’artiste d’avant-garde et musicien, il se dirige très vite vers la musique électronique. Fin des années 90, il est le premier à faire découvrir la cette nouvelle tendance à la jeunesse Mongole alors qu’il dirige, en même temps que ses études, une radio libre Mongol ainsi que le UFO Club à Ulaanbaatar.

À la même période, il voit son pays sombrer dans une crise politico-économique sans précédent.
La plupart des Mongols, lui inclus, étaient aveuglés par l’aura culturelle internationale de villes comme New-York, Tokyo et Paris.

Puis il s’exprime enfin pleinement à travers le studio de création qu’il crée, grâce à l’investissement familial.
Son but alors est de promouvoir la culture electro auprès des jeunes Mongols, à travers différents outils comme la musique, la vidéo, l’art graphique… afin d’ouvrir les horizons artistiques de même que les esprits d’une génération « perdue » .

Puis il crée le club 21 en 2001 afin de fédérer tous les amateurs de culture electro.
L’idée ici n’était plus seulement de promouvoir la culture électro, mais d’aller plus loin dans l’expérimentation et la découverte de nouvelles tendances au sein de ce courant.

“Club 21” a produit un grand nombre d’évènements RP, impliquant la musique électronique, et fédérant ainsi la communauté émergeante et avant-garde de DJs, musiciens, compositeurs, graphistes, mannequins, créateurs de mode…
En 2005, il fut élu « meilleur organisateur d’évènements » par la communauté des « fétards » d’Ulaanbaatar, pour ses idées toujours plus folles.

Puis il se lance dans la production audio-visuelle et commence à produire, réaliser et présenter l’émission « Club 21 ».
L’idée du projet était de montrer à la jeunesse Mongols le meilleur du Clubbing mondial.
Il tourne à Singapore, Tokyo, Moscou & Chicago. Les émissions sont montées. Mais le projet est rapidement arrêté par la censure après la première diffusion.
La société Mongol n’était pas prête à accepter ce qu’ils interprétaient comme une promotion de la prostitution et de l’alcoolisme.

Au même moment, Amai compose 3 projets musicaux personnels : “I Love You” – 2002 & “Who Am I” – 2003.
Il sort “Indigo” (son dernier projet musical), plus tard en 2005, en téléchargement gratuit sur Internet, 2 semaines avant son tour du Monde.… ce geste signifiait son refus de l’idée selon laquelle les artistes sont des « marchants ».

A travers la musique électronique, il a appris la culture occidentale et l’a fait sienne en expérimentant de nouvelles fusions entre électro et musique traditionnelle Mongol.
Pour lui, c’est aussi le seul moyen de prévenir la disparition de cette culture ancestrale sous la pression de la globalisation.
C’est également un moyen de rendre la jeunesse Mongol fière de sa culture en la gardant vivante, voire plus moderne que jamais !

SON TOUR DU MONDE :
Après toutes ses pérégrinations artistiques et musicales dans la culture contemporaine en général, il décide que le temps est venu d’embrasser sa destinée de BADARCHIN.

Le 4 novembre 2005, il laisse sa Mongolie natale pour un voyage autour du monde. Il pense partir 2 ans … Il réalise rapidement que pour mener son objectif (150 pays et leurs capitales) il lui faudra un peu plus de temps… !
Exactement 3 ans après son départ, il a parcouru 50 pays à travers l’Asie, l’Europe, le Moyen-Orient et l’Afrique. Il a fait le tiers de son voyage… s’il continue à ce rythme, il sera de retour sur sa terre natale dans… 6 ans… soit 9 ans après son départ !

Il poursuit cette expérience unique autant qu’initiatique à la manière de la tradition nomade ancestrale mongole de BADARCHIN.
Les Badrachin étaient de jeunes Mongols souvent très éduqués qui s’aventuraient à travers l’empire et au-delà, afin d’apprendre du reste du monde, de la nature et des autres. Ils revenaient grandis de cet enseignement qu’ils pouvaient alors dispenser aux autres. Mi-explorateurs, mi-ambassadeurs ou journalistes, ils étaient auréolés d’un grand prestige, et accueillis avec autant respect par les communautés Mongols qu’ils croisaient sur leur passage. En remerciement de cet accueil, ils partageaient leurs connaissances avec leurs hôtes et chantaient des chants traditionnels.

Amai le Badarchin, chemine donc à travers le monde afin d’explorer, en paix, des contrées que le peuple Mongol n’a jamais traversé même à l’occasion de ses nombreuses conquêtes militaires. Il souhaite ainsi connaître les différentes cultures qu’il rencontre et relater ce qu’il en retient sur son blog, à travers son regard de Mongol.
Il souhaite publier un jour les histoires de ce blog dans un livre qu’il appellera book “Amaizing World”.

Son second but est de parler aux autres, qu’il croise tous les jours sur son chemin, de la culture Mongole et de la civilisation nomade qui disparaît, soufflée par le vent de la globalisation.

Enfin, et peut-être surtout, c’est un voyageur engagé militant contre le réchauffement de la planète et pour le respect et l’amour de la terre qui représente la divinité maternelle et nourricière dans la croyance nomade

03.27.2008 Gabon. 10km from Congo border.
So this is all that life is about? There is always second chance! Once I was confident about what future holds for me. Does it mean that everything I dreamed of and planned has been diluted?

With these journal entries I was hoping to transmit people many messages, but I haven’t accomplished even half of what I thought of! They say that parents can intuitively sense whether their offspring is in trouble. Do my parents know that their son is lying alone in midst of tropics and waiting for his final hour? Dad, Mom, Grandma, Brother, Sister, friends, sorry! I did what I could and I failed this time! I tried really hard, but I can’t!
I often strived to make strong, rational, and well-balanced decisions, but I have no control over present circumstances. I always tried to do things in a right way, is there any outcome to it? I went through war ridden dangerous zones, endured troubles otherwise one would not normally encounter, and here I am lying on the road waiting for the finality to it, because of water? Water is an essential life supporting element. I experienced best moments of my life in the city of Pointe Noir. That time I interpreted it as a sign to rest after having endured long journey through rebel ridden land, but I didn’t realize that it was my last chance to enjoy life.
On the first day of my journey I remember coming upon a fish swarmed by ants and I wondered how it was possible that fish so far from river was getting devoured by ants? I realize now, that I didn’t take such thought as a possible sign! I shrieked. I never imagined that I will be eaten alive in Africa!

03.27.2008. In the morning, noise from local kids playing outside of my tent, woke me up; I was planning to get some more rest before the big journey but it appears I have to get up now.
When I emerged from my tent, I found same men who were there yesterday. Although there was no lit fire, I could guess that they were planning their business for the day while hoarding off flies, which were clinging to their bodies, with broomstick. I drank small amount of water and washed my face. The old man was taking small and regular sips from liquid that was stored in a vodka bottle. I assumed that he was drinking KaiKai, type of sogu produced in those regions. Again I disassembled my tent, deflated my sleeping mat and packed my backpack. To live everyday like a nomad can be wearisome. It is compelling how nomads in my country manage to move around four times a year.
They didn’t have any meal to sell. I guess I just have to stick to my leftover Kasawa dough. The village guy-“Eat it with fish!”, and he lend me fish, different one from the previous day. It was a small chunk, only half side of fish. One bite and it was gone, but because it was over-salted I decided to mix it with my dough to make it last more. After fueling my stomach little bit I finished little what was left of my water. When I enquired with the old man about water, he ran the little boy into his hut to fetch me water stored in a martini bottle. I realized that it was water that he was drinking previously. Why they store water in a bottle rather than in a 1.5 liter container? When I stocked the water into my 1.5 liter container it filled only through half. When I asked if they have more:
-We are out of water, but soon we will go to get it! They don’t speak English and I don’t understand French, but we managed to communicate through signs and gesture. When the hot African midday approached I started perspiring. I resumed lazily the packing of my tent, mat, and my backpack. Whilst doing so I was hoping for some transportation to pass. When I asked about a route to Ndindi:
-There are two paths leading to Ndindi, one is 12 km long and the other one 17km. You may go through the shorter route, but it is not safe as it is full of elephants and other wild animals. The other route is obviously long by 5 more kilometers. Extra 1.5 hours, I reckoned. There should be some reason for the local people advised to take only the right hand side path and hence I decided to follow the road marked by tire thread. I didn’t have any souvenirs to give to the village people. When I stood with my backpack on panting, I saw them gathering all the empty bottles from dark rooms preparing to go for water. The old man put 5-6 bottles in a bowl and mounted them on his son’s head and then taking some more on his back he was about to leave the village. I was suddenly overcome with guilt for having accepted their last 750 ml of water. Because they do not have plastic containers they have to gather water in these bottles. I felt sad for them. I wished I had spare container to get rid of these two martini bottles!
Together three of us set out to walk. I dissolved my vitamin into the water and started drinking assuming that I would fill in on the road. After about a kilometer walk they stopped and said:
-We shall go from here through the bushes, but you need to follow those tire threads.
After walking for a while I saw a village. There were about ten shanties and at closer distance they look old and abandoned except that in the middle there was old man sitting. However, I felt ashamed to ask for water and after having rested for 10 minutes on the stool I resumed my journey. The heat stood still and no clouds. I sipped on my water as I continued walking and thoughts of reaching next village slowly took over. I was slowly running out of water. Since I didn’t have a watch I was trying to determine time by snapping photos from time to time. An hour passed already. 4-5 kilometers probably, I estimated. I panicked for the first time after realizing that there were only 100 ml of water left.

What if there aren’t really any villages until that Ndindi?! The sun started burning more intensely. Because of the heavy back I started losing body fluid faster. My clothes were covered in sweat. In the road I found path made by ants. Thousands and thousands of ants crawling through narrow channels, just like in the city of New York. Approximately an hour late since I last checked the time my water subsided to 50 ml. Because of the intolerable heat I started asphyxiating.
-Don’t stop! Keep on walking! If you won’t reach the next settlement your water won’t last! Thus I kept reminding myself. Since no one passed for the last three days through this road I abandoned the hope of finding water from passers. Soon I started feeling dizzy and losing focus. In addition a noise of approaching truck kept ringing in my ear. At once I tried to breathe through my nose only as keeping my mouth open could potentially dry it up. Another step and I collapsed in the middle of the road thus exhausting last drop of energy. To escape from the sun I pulled myself with my backpack into the shade of a tree.
-Where to find water? Where to find water? I started mumbling to myself. I tried to recall how the coconut tree look liked, the one that I saw few days ago. Of all these green vegetation which one could nourish me with drop of dew? Are there any water wells here? Such thought kept formed whirlwind in my head. A person left without water in the middle of desert has more peace of mind compared to a man who has ended up in humid tropics of Africa because the latter one would be constantly haunted by thoughts of rain and therefore possibility of close proximity of water. Even thought I stopped moving my body heat was still on the rise. Due to dehydration and last few days of malnutrition my body was momentarily losing its energy. To lower down the body heat I dug through the sand of the road under the shade and once the moist layer was revealed I lay down on my back. The moist dirt slowly cooled down my body. If someone happens to pass by car they could practically squash me without noticing first. I heard a car full of people approaching. I could hear their loud conversations.
I navigated through this forest for the last three days and yet I have never had chance to observe it from such low angle. How beautiful is this forest that cast its infinite edge along the road! Furthermore the noise in the forest subsided. My pulse slowed and I felt lightheaded. I started talking to myself. /THOUGHTS 1/ I lost a lot of energy and I felt exhausted to even ward off flies. Flies, never mind flies. They knew I was not capable to even think about it and hence were swarming on my body. In such woods no space is left uncovered and soon ants were streaming through me and began biting. Probably sensing that I was dog tired all those flies and crawls clustered around me. I started feeling bites everywhere. I am being eaten alive, I thought.

People do not think of death, they are able to conceive its full extent only when they are at close proximity with it. I struggled to hoard off insects and managed to pull out my camera out of my belt. When I was lying on my back I noticed two trees, in a direction where I came from, which I decided to snap.

If I happen to die here at least people will know where I was last. I snapped a shot. I instilled a shot of myself as well to register my current condition. I asked myself if I carried my contact address in case someone happens to recover me here. I suddenly remembered having met one Korean traveler who showed me last page of his passport, an entire section dedicated to contact address relevant to the traveler. I wonder why Mongolian passport does not carry such section?-Why didn’t I write my address? I wish I had mobile phone, then I would have chance to get some sort of assistance. I closed my eyes and I waited. I started almost suffocating due to the heat. Suddenly I overcame with desire to survive. In film we never see people giving up fight with death from dehydration or suffocation with peaceful appearance. Truly in such moments the survival instinct is strongest. Even those who cannot swim would start to swim. Although there was no energy left in my body and no courage left to continue, I felt sudden a wild kick of desire to survive. I could not move my hands to ward off the flies but because of the rush of adrenaline I lay there shaking. I looked around for possible solutions; a thought of drinking own piss passed through my head, but it was quickly abandoned, as there was no fluid in my bladder.
-I can’t believe that there is no way out of this situation!
-It should not end like this! Is that all?!
-The whole journey had no meaning at all?
-What would happen to people who had faith in me?
-Dear Spirit, if you are there please, send some rain down, I prayed.
Soon after my bidding out of nowhere rain clouds appeared in the horizon and eclipsed the sun. I took that as a sign of support and feeling encouraged by it I gathered all my last strength and I got up. Because I lay on bare back on the damp land my muscles became stiff. I drew out small purse from my back pack along with passport, album of travel photos, wallet and started following the road with my cane. I understood that now I should not worry about the back pack I was leaving behind.

If I survive I can always recover it. Thus I followed the road. My mouth was really dry. I recalled how much water I poured on myself while showering in Konkoutu, before the big journey. Also, I tried to console myself with thoughts of having crossed once from village of Ndindi the 90 km river on a boat. The thoughts about water did not help; on the contrary it made me thirstier. As I was almost mechanically moving my feet I saw near the road amongst bushes something that resembled a shack. I was thrilled.

Feeling thrilled I approached the shack and I shouted- Bonjour! I shouted few more times, but there was no answer. Inside of the fence I found three bottles and when I shook them the total amount did not even comprise 100 ml. After having smelled the water I stored it in my container.

While taking short rest I sipped on the small amount of water. Except some shoes, cloth, and a bag there was nothing nearly drinkable in the shack. I decided to wait for the owner and he would definitely bring some water because there was practically no water left here. Squirrels were gathering food on a tree trunk in front of me. All of a sudden I feared for myself. What do I know about the person I was waiting for, whether he is nice or bad? Who knows what thoughts may overcome the man who sees a lonely traveler with photo camera and stash of money. Moreover, nobody knows of my whereabouts. While such thoughts were hurling inside me I recalled one tale, a story of three bears.
A girl was lost in a forest and after a while she found a bear house. Because she was hungry and tired she ate the bears’ food and fell asleep on baby bear’s bed. The bears arrived home . . . and I couldn’t remember what happened afterwards. Nearby I saw a bucket purposefully placed to collect rain water coming down from tent roof. When I peeped into the bucket I saw small amount of accumulated water with mosquito bugs swimming inside. Undrinkable. Raindrops came down one by one reminding me that it was time to go. Since I realized the origin of my water I thought that it is best not to wait for the arrival of the hut owner. Again I kept walking.

When I came upon some trees that were cut down I got excited thinking that people might be processing trees, but they were cut just to clear the road. I couldn’t feel my muscles anymore but I knew that rhythmic movement aided my walk. I was running out of water again. Although I was sipping on it to make it last longer I knew that my body needed much more fluid. As I kept walking I saw small puddle. I bent down and I saw that it was fully occupied by insects. I passed it hoping others would be cleaner.
-I should have filtered that puddle water, full of mosquito eggs and drunk from it, I regretted. The next puddle appeared more or less cleaner I decided to rip sleeve of my t shirt and sift the water through it.
Where’s my t-shirt? I realized that I left it in the shack. This was the first time throughout my journey that I left my clothes behind me. In the past I always burned my old attires.
To drink dirty water is way too much. I resumed my walk without abandoning hope. All of a sudden I saw footprints. I followed the prints but they led me back to the bushes. Although I was tempted to follow the footprints I decided to get back on the road in hopes that car might pass. I lost track of how much distance I covered so far. Because I was lying on that road for a while I could not estimate anymore how much lay in front. I kept walking. After having walked a while I came upon small pond near the road.

I dropped my cane and small backpack. I ran to the water. I saw small fish swimming in it and when I felt the water it was cold. These were all signs of spring water. It should be clean! I bent down and I started drinking. I kept drinking. I ignored all the thoughts about tropical bacteria and disease were
-If I get sick it can be remedied with medicine, but at this moment only breaking the thirst matters! I thought. I jumped into the water fully dressed. I lay down and tried to absorb the pleasant feeling of cold water. If I ever go back home I would jump into the shower and I shall think how once I found water at the verge of dying from thirst. I lied there like that for a while.
-I wonder if there are any predators around here, ones such as alligators. Just few moments ago I had been thinking about water only, and now I was thinking about wild animals and elephants. I rose from the water, mounted my backpack and resumed the walk.
-Oh, forgot the cane! I fetched the cane from nearby the water. Again I kept walking! This time I had container full of water and therefore I started drinking. Even though I had water now, my body was not at ease at all.

Eventually I could not lift up my cane.
I decided to drag along it till the end, for self-defense purpose in the wilderness. At the end of seemingly infinite road I saw an electric pole and village shanty. When I approached the village swaying right and left, an old man who was sitting under a tent took notice of me and exclaimed
-Oh, you should sit here. Because I could not sit upright anymore, I sat there all hunched in.
Another old man who was chopping wood after noticing me, dragged a mat out of his house and put it directly on land.
-Here! Lie down here! Are you all right? He asked in French.
I collapsed on the mat. When the old man was tucking something under my head I barely brought myself to ask:

-Until Ndindi, how many more kilometers left?
-This is Ndindi
-I reached it! I reached it! I did it, yes! I did it! I did it! I was mumbling in Mongolian
When the old man saw how bizarre I acted he jumped and ran around the corner.
I could not whisper anything except the phrase, “I did it”.
After few moments an emergency vehicle pulled outside of the tent and a doctor approached me.
-What happened to this man? He asked the others in French. Few years ago there was outbreak of deadly disease called Ebola, in which a person bleeds from all the outlets.

That’s why no one dared to approach me.
-Is there anyone who speaks English? I started enquiring from gatherers.

I tried to give account of what happened to me, but tears started rolling down. The next two hours I tried to stutter the rest of my story.

Amai The Mongol ( English ) thanks to Byambaa for english translation.
A UPO crossed Morocco
(Unidentified Pedestrian Object)

17 dec 2008 Morocco. Casablanca. MADE IN CITY magazine

“Amai the Mongol” has left his country and its capital Ulanbaaatar on 3 November 2005, at age 25, to visit 150 countries and their capitals. He thought he would cross the world in just 2 years, but during his journey, he soon realizes that his project would take much longer. Thus, after 3 years of travel he crossed 50 countries – a third of the way – and if all goes well, in 6 years he will be back in Mongolia.
By Isabelle Sivadier & Said Lahlou.

This experience, he conceived it as a Badarchin mission, his destiny.
“Badarchins were in the ancient nomadic Mongolian culture, messengers, ambassadors, reporters from the old days.”

A Badarchin!
It was common for young people educated, once reached the age of maturity, to decide to undertake a long journey to spread knowledge and Mongolian culture. By the time Mongolia is experiencing a strong identity-cultural crisis, following the fall of communism and bulimia of Western culture, living again this founding passed through this tradition is for me an obvious need.”

Ambassador Rock’n Roll!
Mongolia could not have dreamed of ambassador more rock’n roll! I Indeed, Amai is an avant-garde artist (musician), in his country: from the intellectual elite (father Professor of History at the University), he grew up in communism in Russia until 12 years old, then in Mongolia from 92. Frantically, he tries everything, gets interested in everything, until the time he felt ready to go around the world, this inner quest, this duty of Badarchin … “It was time to go to explore the world and put on my Badarchin my coat, find my roots, recognize them, put them into practice, talking about them to the world, and at the same time open myself on other cultures that Mongols and I know pretty bad“.

A road strewn of jewels and pitfalls!
On his way he was given to see some of the most beautiful places in the world, crossed the most different cultures …
Stories, he has hundreds to tell, some funny, some sad, some revolting, some fascinating, some touching ones …: “I got lost in the jungle in Africa, and I almost died of thirst under a harassing sun … Fell out of strength, offload of my food and backpack, without anything, lying on the ground, I felt ants beginning to devour me. I could not move anymore, I was dying … Until the rain falls … “ Or when he crossed the rebel zone and is taken under the protection by UN peacekeepers. Or when he had been hosted by Mongolian UN peacekeepers in mission in Sierra Leone, as he is a Bardarchin.

An epic arrival in Morocco (countries No. 49)
“I had to wait 2 months in Mauritania for finally having my visa refused. My trip is a string; I cannot skip countries. Arrived in Canaries Islands, after having heard my project, the consul immediately granted me the visa, understanding that I would speak about Morocco to my compatriots and that I would be a sort of bridge between the 2 countries.” Following these administrative adventures, his first opinion about Morocco was rather bad… “Arriving in Marrakech, my impression is gradually getting smoother … I was amazed by the central square Jemaâ AI Fna and its by-night frenetic activity … Then I went to what I consider as one of the best sociological observatories of a country: night club! What I thought? Moroccan girls are the most beautiful women of the 32 countries I have crossed in Africa.”

Then there was Hajja Halima!
Through a combination of circumstances and coincidence, he finds himself in an party with Hajja Halima in Casablanca … “As a musician and beyond the musical choc, I was both impressed and touched to see that families of a certain social elite are at the same time Europeanized (which is usually the case for elites of all countries) but also so respectful and proud of their traditional cultural heritage.” For Amai, it illustrates perfectly the difference he sees between nationalism (synonym of xenophobia and hate for other cultures) and patriotism, which means to be proud of what we are, while being curious and open to others.

End … and restart.
What is recurring with Amai, is that we feel in him a departure, a road, a path that does not end. As if he was in a hurry to leave again. The present is already passed with Amai … Future is the single traveler’s vocabulary. “If I take my time, I delay the time when I get back home.” His home, this Mongolia he misses so much, and which defines him. So he doesn’t get attached to people… he doesn’t have this right. He meets people; he shares moments, thanks those who hosted him or welcomed him and then goes again by himself … full of memories shared.