Meeting the Locals

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Out the back of our ger, our hosts had an old motorcycle parked. Who knows if there was a trick to starting it but after a little tinkering and a quick check to make sure there was fuel I still couldn't get it working. Luckily some young locals happened by on their way back from a night of smashing airag (fermented mare's milk) and celebrating at a nearby rodeo and, amused at our attempts to start the possibly long immobile bike, took me on a ride across the steppes. 


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