On one of my early adventures around the city to hunt + gather my lunch, I lucked upon a wonderful place. Small, bustling and full of locals chowing down on traditional food like buuz, khushuur and one of my favourites, tsuivan, it was cheap, quick and tasty. The woman taking cash would ignore my order until I said it properly in Mongolian (or a fellow diner took pity on me and enunciated correctly on my behalf), and much of the time I had no idea what I was ordering, but I persevered anyway and hoped it would be the outside flesh of an animal rather than its insides I scored on my plate. Then I'd push my way to the front of the canteen style window to collect my food before finding an old lady or some Mongolian sparkies to share a table with. It was my favourite solo lunch-eating establishment until I was dealt a life changing blow on December 1, 2009.
Sam Wearne
Received:
14:31:59
01-12-2009
I don't know how to say this but... your favourite restaurant has been demolished. Maybe we shouldn't have given them the mullah to consider some renos. Damn it!
To:
Sam Wearne
Sent:
14:33:07
01-12-2009
WHAT? SAY IT AIN'T SO. Where the fuck am I going to get lunch now?
Cue feelings of devastation and a hefty grieving period. Just to be sure Sam wasn't being a heartless bastard and messing with my fragile food-loving heart, I visited the site. I fell to my knees, sobbing when I saw a giant, gaping hole between two money changers where the restaurant once served unidentifiable meat goods and soggy steamed bread.
But today, I discovered that sometimes, (not that often) things happen very quickly in Mongolia, and that miracles can actually occur.
Sam Wearne
Received:
13:30:52
11-01-2010
You're gonna love this. They rebuilt the restaurant already. I'm eating goulash and buuz as we speak.
To:
Sam Wearne
Sent:
13:39:33
11-01-2010
Holy shit. Life is good. I love this country!
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