I think Martin is going to say something else, but then Sarnai comes back and she’s followed by a wide-hipped woman in a dusky red dress. She looks to be in her fifties, with shiny black hair tied back in a long, low braid and an open, smiley face. They are all very smiley, these people, and I feel myself responding in kind.

‘This is Chinua and she is going to look after you here. Tonight you must relax, and have the wonderful food and drinks, and then tomorrow morning we will go off on a horseback trail and camel ride, and then spend some time at the festival. Make sure you have your cameras ready for the beautiful pictures.’

Carrie is leaning on one elbow now; she’s wriggled away from Rory and his poking finger. ‘Is there somewhere to charge our phones?’ she asks.

‘Oh…’ Sarnai turns to Chinua and they talk in Mongolian for a moment. I’m pretty sure I know what the answer will be. ‘There are some chargers you can use, but not for too long as Chinua’s husband must take these in the morning to be recharged at the centre ten kilometres away.’

‘So there’s literally no electricity?’ Carrie says.

Chinua grins. ‘Come inside, please. We will have milky tea.’

We follow her into the ger. The door has been tied back with twine, and inside is a blast of colour and texture that is so at odds with the bleak landscape outside, that it makes me feel dizzy. Five narrow beds are positioned in a horseshoe shape, each covered with a colourful quilt. In the centre of the room, a large hearth, and up above, the hole that serves as the chimney, with smoke swirling and billowing up and outside. There are a couple of narrow bookshelves behind the beds, and near the roaring hearth, a low table and some colourful, fringed floor pillows – all set on top of a bright-yellow patterned rug. On the hearth, a huge pot is bubbling away, and next to that, a huge, deep frying pan, where Chinua is dropping small pieces of dough.

‘Doughnuts! Excellent,’ Carrie says. She turns to me and whispers, ‘Might not be so bad after all.’

‘You can choose your beds,’ Sarnai says. ‘I’ll take whichever one is left.’

Rory races over to the one further back. He tosses his bag on the floor, then leaps onto the bed, just as Sarnai raises a hand and starts to shout a warning.

‘Ow. Shit.’ He lands with a thud, and immediately starts pulling the covers out from underneath. ‘What’s this made of? Cement?’

‘It’s a hard wood, with a thick woven mattress,’ Sarnai explains. ‘I was about to tell you … not very bouncy, like usual beds. But I promise you will be comfortable … and warm.’

Rory makes a hmmph sound, and rubs his back as if he’s been dropped from a height onto a hard floor.