Losing track of time

As we dumped our backpacks on the platform at Beijing West Railway Station and looked at the train, my friend remarked: "It looks so romantic." The dark-green train was gently lit by a dim autumn light and smartly dressed guards standing next to the carriages gave it a sophisticated edge. Dressed only in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I felt a little under-dressed for the 30-hour journey to the Mongolian capital of Ulan Bator.