Though Northern Mongolia had a fair number of truly awesome spots, MOPOH was not amongst them.  Oh wait, that was the Cyrillic name.  The first indication something was strange was the English name: Moron.

Second: horses riding down the streets (though I must admit that as usual this endeared the place to me a little) right beside old Russian vans and new model American imports.

Third: more dust than I remember even on the Gobi Desert trip.

Fourth: Even when making a distinct effort to find the cool stuff to do in town (on the advice of a German and Slovokian who run a tourist info place in Moron), this is the best Gal and I could come up with. Strange statues.

Also, one of the shanty-ist places I’ve been to in Asia. This is the central market!

We did manage to find a decent place to eat, but even that was the standard choice of Tsuivan noodles or Buuz dumplings.

Moron was not one of my more inspiring stops in Mongolia, to say the least.