Ulaanbaatar

Walking around Ulaanbaatar, the first thing you notice is that every other building is a bar. The second thing is that crossing the road takes nerves of steel, precision timing and a lack of concern for your own well-being. As in China, only a third of a road is safe to cross on green, because turning traffic (usually from all directions) will be on green filter while you cross. The difference here is that there are no bikes, rickshaws, handcarts and so on to slow everyone down - just impatient motorists taking corners at high speed, jockeying for position and blasting their horns. Even the locals run for it.

There is plenty of depressing Soviet architecture to be admired, most of it in a poor state of repair. Add to this the Cyrillic script and the general absence of signs in other languages and you quickly feel that you are in the USSR - which is daft as I've never been there. I say 'depressing' and yet there is something so stark and dismal about it that it is also exotic. Signs make doorways look like shops or eateries, but on entering you meet nothing but a dark, dank stairwell with peeling paint and crumbling plaster. Little English is spoken, and it seems hard to raise a smile from the locals when you try to buy a banana or try out a few words of Mongolian. There's something quite austere about the place and the people (who I can't help thinking have Chinese features but are built like Russians). Ancient, heavy buses clank along belching smoke, but looking good for another 50 years use. Service in shops is virtually non-existent and you are hard pressed to track down someone who can tell you the price of the two sleeping bags on display. You are doubly lucky if you can get him to tell you the price of the second one before he wanders away. Waitresses turn their back on you mid-order to listen in on colleagues' conversations. After China, where even smart department store staff pester you like market traders, it's both refreshing and frustrating. But I love it for its difference - there is no danger here of me saying "It's a bit like..." - I have never been anywhere like this. Here and there children beg on the streets, persistently and quite unpleasantly, with one dodging around to block your way while his mate disappears behind you. Pickpockets are apparently rife - something I'm willing to believe as the one time I wore my bag on my back because it held nothing but a bottle of water, I found it open.

Despite all this, UB is a pleasant place to wander around, with a very laid-back feel. I've visited a couple of museums and enjoyed sitting outside cafes for a bit of light refreshment. In the evenings I've gone out to sample local food and beer. Had a pint for David in the Chinggis Khan brewpub, which I can highly recommend. The food is meaty and stodgy but quite good, with plenty of vegetables - something I'm making the most of as we won't be seeing many once we leave the capital. Even at night, the city has a good atmosphere. It's easy to navigate too, and the only reason you tend to get lost is because distances are so short that you've overshot your target by half a mile before you've even stopped to consult your map.

The air is fresh and the breeze cool, giving a delicious contrast to the fierce sun. Some heavy rain has fallen too, flooding roads around the city and making road crossing even more exciting as you have to jump over a five foot wide puddle into the traffic. When it clouds over, there is a definite nip in the air - enough to make me doubt my supply of cosy clothes for those cold nights out in the hills. I've enjoyed UB, but I won't be sorry to leave it behind. I can't wait to get out into the countryside, the desert, hills and lakes that inspired me to come here.