With the first leg of our Trans-Mongolian journey in the morning we packed up our plastic mugs, playing cards, Swiss army cutlery sets and variants of the pot noodle family. That morning struggling through the streets and subways of Beijing the thought of sitting for a day and a half on a train rested well with us.
We arrived at Beijing railway station just before dawn, and with our train the ‘K3’ clearly visible on the timetable, things were going to plan. Sitting in the waiting room for the train the proximity of McDonalds tempted us with one last guaranteed and familiar meal before we headed to the culinary black hole of Mongolia. I’d heard of their fondness for boiled entrails and fermented horse milk so who’s in any position to give me a guilt trip for one last decent breakfast.
Boarding the train we didn’t really know what to…
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