Bladder Suspension More Condition_symptoms

Mongolia / 1
The return to Milan has had a less traumatic than expected, more immediately, but within a week the feeling of being lost as the trip has not yet given way to loss routine.
was less traumatic than expected because the real culture shock we had way back to Ulaan Baatar from the province. Byamba was in atrial fibrillation: after three weeks of desert, steppe and taiga in the detour to the UB all seemed terribly fashionable. Ambakh inventing the teasing poses while wandering or dissolving tangles of a car horn and clutch shots to hand back to the hostel.
We have come, in eighteen days, roughly 4200 km - the average of 40 per hour, since at the time on a large country like most of Western Europe just over 1500 km are beaten.
For the itinerary (roughly) that we have covered LonelyP indicated the 2700 km: I told Byamba, adding that they probably had joined the dots on the map and measured the straight lines. She (wise young interpreter) told me: "Sometimes when I read what is written on LonelyP think" Yes, this is true. But not so much. "

After three weeks of latrines, bath house, which is also a closet-style educational process (by someone called" Dutch ", but I think it was a definition of politeness) I seemed a luxurious getaway. On the other hand the approach already with the bathroom of the hostel, the day when we got back was no hot water, but water current , was funny: per abitudine mi ero portata al lavandino la bottiglia d'acqua per lavarmi i denti.
Eppure non è difficile adattarsi. Per stancarmi delle scomodità avrei avuto bisogno di molto più tempo. In cui avrei potuto continuare a non stancarmi di tutto il resto: avevo letto parecchi libri sulla Mongolia, eppure tutto è riuscito a meravigliarmi.
Uno dei primi giorni, viaggiando verso il Gobi, avevamo chiesto a Byamba di fermarci per fotografare una montagna, che si ergeva improvvisa, imponente sulla steppa. Lei ci ha detto che era una montagna a loro molto cara, che uno dei loro massimi poeti le aveva dedicato una poesia che tutti i mongoli conoscono a memoria. "Come si chiama?"; lei ha risposto, quasi scusandosi: "We can not say the name of the mountains. We bring misfortune." Then m'è occurred to one of the charming stories of Fritz Mühlenweg. I said, smiling: "Yeah, I had read in a book, but ... it was the story of a journey of the '20s."
The next day, talking about the next leg of the trip, we asked what time we could get. To which we responded, this time laughing at herself, she could not tell us what we would have put it: otherwise it would have happened the route of something that we would be delayed.
time in Mongolia, lived differently, but is also a different quality. And I s. we were more than willing to leave that things were as they should go, and minutes for once if they saw each other, and in any case Byamba Ambakh and had all our trust. So no problem or delay we were never worried or upset. And incidents relating to the vehicle, there have occurred a bit 'of all kinds.
Mühlenweg in a story he wrote: "My apprenticeship was extraordinary. He lasted only four weeks, but those four weeks had turned a dull follower of minutes in a thoughtful student of the time."