Awoke at nine as the train stopped and the engine blew it's shriek of a whistle. I checked the schedule to find that we were supposed to arrive at 大同 at 8, so we were only an hour behind schedule.
I got out my Ghengis Khan book and started my last day on the Trans-Siberian rail with a little light reading.
Brian woke up and we went to the dining car for some food. To our minor confusion, the dining car, which had yesterday been an ornate collection of tacky wood carvings, was now a tasteful and modern car serving Chinese food. Weird.
We had to pay in Yuan, Chinese currency. 57元, or a little under $10. I only had coins of yuan that I had found before our trip, however, and paid with 57 single yuan coins. The lady serving us was quite amused.
Several hours later we prepared to disembark in Beijing while going through the myriad tunnels the Chinese saw fit to build for this railway.
At 3 sharp we arrived. We walked out of the station into blaringly hot Beijing summer weather with large backpacks on our backs and bags on our fronts. We avoided the endless calls of "Taxi?" and walked up and over the road to a bank to get some Chinese money - can't pay for a taxi in coins.
Pulled out $100 worth and started asking for a cab. They all wanted ridiculous amounts and we argued down to a reasonable base price, taking into account how much we wanted AC from the heat and to put down our bags.
We arrived at the hostel a little before four and checked in. There was some confusion about the rooms and I ended up having to take a different room for this night than any of the other nights. Oh well. Brian and I took a quick siesta.
We walked down to a market building at 5 for some souvineers for Brian and for anything I wanted to send home with him.
It was incredible. Having come from two former soviet countries where bargaining did not happen, Brian and I were back in our element. Items listed originally at 380RMB quickly fell to 25. Our dangerously skilled and honed bargaining abilities were revived. Good cop / bad cop routines, fake arguments, yelling at the seller, telling sob stories about sick girlfriends who really want a dragon shaped puzzle, walking away and making loops of the building; these are just parts of life for us. Leaving the building was the icing on the cake. A shirt depicting Obama in a Chinese Communist uniform - originally 250, came down to 125 with ease. That's about $15... A reasonable price for a shirt, yes? We got it for 30RMB; $3.25 or so. The salesgirl shoved the shirt angrily into Brian's bag and cursed him out. We left feeling on top of the world.
Back in the hostel after a quick dinner break at a local noodle cafeteria around 7:30.
We left for an American Bar and BBQ at 9 but failed to find it. On the way Brian got a call from Ola Linder, our Swedish friend from the train in Russia. We told him where our hostel was and directed the cabbie back to there.
At the hostel, we got two beers and sat down to meet some people. Found ourselves sitting with a bunch of englishmen, defending the USA, as usual.
At 11 Brian announced he was leaving. I ran him out to the street to tell a cab where to go.
There were no free cabs on Chunxiu Lu, our street. We ran down to the first intersection, a busy one, and tried to hail one there. But any and every free cab was getting hailed down by other Chinese and they were not playing fair. So we didn't play fair either.
While a cab was waiting in traffic preparing for a U-turn to pick up a chinese group, Brian and I ran into the street, in front of a speeding bus and cars, jumped the divider (Brian with his huge bag on his back) and got in.
I told the cabby where we wanted to go, but he didn't understand. I changed the intonation slightly and we were all set. But first I had to get out. So I stepped out of the cab as it was about to head off. Didn't really get to say goodbye to Brian... And so began my 7 week solo journey.
Went back to the hostel to keep the beer flowing with Kat and Tom and Cris and Conor and David, the englishmen I'd met. Eventually, after ages of waiting, Ola showed up, with three of the guys from the train, all Swedes of course.
I broke out the vodka and we all drank some more. Then Conor took us to a club.
It was a 50元 cover, but worth it. The club was packed and loud as hell. We very quickly all separated as we went our own ways.
Several hours later it was time for me to go home. Conor and I left together, and David followed a bit later. I'm not sure where the others went... Later I got a text from Ola, saying they were all good and had a great time and we should definitely meet up in the future. We definitely should.
I got home and was in bed by 5:30am, and it was bright outside.
7/3/10
7/2/10
Goodbye, Mongolia
We woke up at 5:30, and got out of bed at 5:45. Packed and checked out, and took the 10 minute walk to the station that turned out to be 25 minutes away. At least we made it by 6:30 for our 7:15. Plenty of time.
Boarded with 20 minutes to spare before we left, made our way down the narrow halls of car 3 and settled into room IV, seats 15 and 16.
Slept for a little while after the train started up at 7:16, having gotten very little sleep last night.
I woke up at 11:15, after I realized the train had been stopped for a while. I asked a conductor and he leaned me out a doorway and pointed out a stuck train ahead on our track.
We waited a while while the huge supply train was inching past our car before starting up again just before noon.
12:15 we went to the dining car, which we actually have on the train this time. We walked in and found a ridiculously fancy bar car, complete with gold colored mounted buck heads, gold rimmed glasses, and ornate woodwork on the ceiling and sidings and chairs.
We found that they had Fusion beer, so we ordered two with our meal. The quality of food, however, did not match the quality of beer nor the quality of the dining car.
I slept until 3:30. At 4:30 I looked up and saw we were in the Gobi Desert. We passed animals every once in a while, including an entire pack of Mongolian camels, the only camels in the world to have natural double humped backs. Low lying brush and sandy ground extended for miles in every direction uninterrupted. The occasional car drove past, kicking up sand and dust in a cloud behind them. It was strangely and hauntingly beautiful.
I read from my not-yet-finished Genghis Khan book for several hours. It was a quiet train day and so we didn't really meet anyone in our car - it didn't help that we were alone in our room of four beds.
We arrived at the last stop in Mongolia an hour and a half late, at 10:15, due to our earlier delay from the passing train. The painstakingly annoying passport and customs control ensued.
At quarter to 12 as we stood at the border between Mongolia and China, we looked to the left; lights, buildings, civilization. To the right; an abandoned building and darkness. The stark contrast between Mongolia and the Inner Mongolia region of "Great Glorious People's Nation" of China were very clear.
At 12:30 we were wheeled into a factory where they change the wheels of the train. Chinese rail tracks use a wider gauge than Russia, Mongolia and, well, anybody, so we had to change the wheels.
We watched as the latter half of our train was lined up next to ours and jacked into the air with large hydrolic train-carjacks. They disconnected the wheels and lifted the car above them, then swept all the wheeling apparati off to one side and brought in new wheels. They lowered the train cars on top of their new wheels and wheeled out each of our cars as they were done. The process took a very long time but it was fun to watch. If we had arrived during the day we would have had to get out of the train and wouldn't have been able to see this, so it was exciting to be able to watch.
At 2 they rolled us out of the warehouse. After a few more delays that shook the car we were underway, and in China.
I fell asleep around 3, finally in the PRC. I wish I could have spent more time in Mongolia (I could spend months there), but alas, I start work in a few days.
Boarded with 20 minutes to spare before we left, made our way down the narrow halls of car 3 and settled into room IV, seats 15 and 16.
Slept for a little while after the train started up at 7:16, having gotten very little sleep last night.
I woke up at 11:15, after I realized the train had been stopped for a while. I asked a conductor and he leaned me out a doorway and pointed out a stuck train ahead on our track.
We waited a while while the huge supply train was inching past our car before starting up again just before noon.
12:15 we went to the dining car, which we actually have on the train this time. We walked in and found a ridiculously fancy bar car, complete with gold colored mounted buck heads, gold rimmed glasses, and ornate woodwork on the ceiling and sidings and chairs.
We found that they had Fusion beer, so we ordered two with our meal. The quality of food, however, did not match the quality of beer nor the quality of the dining car.
I slept until 3:30. At 4:30 I looked up and saw we were in the Gobi Desert. We passed animals every once in a while, including an entire pack of Mongolian camels, the only camels in the world to have natural double humped backs. Low lying brush and sandy ground extended for miles in every direction uninterrupted. The occasional car drove past, kicking up sand and dust in a cloud behind them. It was strangely and hauntingly beautiful.
I read from my not-yet-finished Genghis Khan book for several hours. It was a quiet train day and so we didn't really meet anyone in our car - it didn't help that we were alone in our room of four beds.
We arrived at the last stop in Mongolia an hour and a half late, at 10:15, due to our earlier delay from the passing train. The painstakingly annoying passport and customs control ensued.
At quarter to 12 as we stood at the border between Mongolia and China, we looked to the left; lights, buildings, civilization. To the right; an abandoned building and darkness. The stark contrast between Mongolia and the Inner Mongolia region of "Great Glorious People's Nation" of China were very clear.
At 12:30 we were wheeled into a factory where they change the wheels of the train. Chinese rail tracks use a wider gauge than Russia, Mongolia and, well, anybody, so we had to change the wheels.
We watched as the latter half of our train was lined up next to ours and jacked into the air with large hydrolic train-carjacks. They disconnected the wheels and lifted the car above them, then swept all the wheeling apparati off to one side and brought in new wheels. They lowered the train cars on top of their new wheels and wheeled out each of our cars as they were done. The process took a very long time but it was fun to watch. If we had arrived during the day we would have had to get out of the train and wouldn't have been able to see this, so it was exciting to be able to watch.
At 2 they rolled us out of the warehouse. After a few more delays that shook the car we were underway, and in China.
I fell asleep around 3, finally in the PRC. I wish I could have spent more time in Mongolia (I could spend months there), but alas, I start work in a few days.
7/1/10
Creating Culture and the Leaning Tower of Ulaanbaatar
UB is a phenomenon that has not been seen in several decades at least, and perhaps even in centuries. Cities, as we know them today, are established well before we were born. They have history, they have culture, the people know when restaurants are open and which streets have good bars. Food costs an average amount and there are areas that are nicer than others. UB has culture and history enough, but not city culture, or city history. This is a city being built today, founding itself now. People are moving in from the countryside, in gers (yurts), parking their gers in the city, and when they get enough money they build themselves a house. Before long what was once their neighborhood in the outskirts becomes part of the city center, as people keep pouring in. 100 years ago this country was almost 100% nomadic. Today UB comprises of 33% of the entire population of Mongolia, 1 million citizens. Five years ago there was no Mongolian word for a traffic jam.
Today their word means "Road Block," because cars cannot move in the streets - the growth of population is far exceeding the infrastructure expansion required for such growth. Restaurants open late and close early - and each one has a different idea about good business hours. Food is priced at all different levels, even for the same thing. This city is sprouting out of nowhere and discovering itself - making a culture. It's amazing to think that Brian and I, as part of a collective of visitors to this baby city, by walking into a restaurant late when it's closed or leaving a place that's overpriced, are not being just tourists - we're helping to establish a culture.
A perfect example of how unprepared this city is to be a real city is this. Next to the main square is a skyscraper that some investors had built to take advantage of the businesses and offices that are needed now in the city. It's about 40 stories tall (maybe less), and has a beautiful whale tail-like design running up the back spine of the building. The outside windows are a deep reflective blue, and it looks like it could go in any modern city. With the exception of the fact that it's leaning.
That's right; UB builders were so eager to have a skyscraper like every other city, they forgot to make sure it was straight up-and-down... and built it at a slight angle. Now it's empty and awaiting demolition because it is uninhabitable.
***
Woke up at 6:30, couldn't fall back to sleep, so I called a few people back home and passed the time until I woke Brian up at 10:30.
By 11:30 we had hit the streets. We stumbled into a Korean restaurant, which we only realized after we sat down and saw the menu. We ordered far too much food but enjoyed it nonetheless.
We wandered down to the National Culture Park, but it was closed, ironically symbolic of Mongolia's culture 20 years ago - closed.
Back to Сукбаатар Square, and on to the National Museum.
The museum was small, and only 3 floors, so we bought our tickets (5000T for 2! Circa $4 total) and were in and out within an hour. It was interesting but I think there's more to learn on the streets of the history in motion of UB than in that museum.
Walking towards the State Department Store for some souvineer shopping, we passed a familiar face. I grabbed Brian and said "that's Cia and Tal!" we turned around and found Cia, Tal, and Byra, our friends from the Transsib, talking on the street. Like yesterday with Marcel, I marvel at how small this world (and this city, I guess) is. We exchanged numbers in the hopes of meeting up later, and went our separate ways. We never heard from them again, until Brian got an email from Cia explaining she'd lost my number.
Brian and I went to the department store, buying two souvineer Mongolian traditional communal shotglasses in a shop, bringing the total number of shotglasses bought on this trip to 39 (6 in St. Pete, 32 with the chess set, and this one for me).
We spent some time on the top two floors of the store, looking for souvineers. Brian bought a book for his office on Mongolian Business Tycoons (who are making almost $6,000 a year!) but we got nothing else.
Walked back to the hostel and arrived just past 5 for siesta.
At 9 we were still in the hostel and relaxing. We hadn't heard from Cia or Tal or Byra, so we went out to dinner. Stopped on Seoul Street at BD's, a Mongolian BBQ Flattop-type restaurant. We had an all you can eat buffet of Mongolian deliciousness.
When we sat at the restaurant we tried to order a beer. They said no one in the city is allowed to serve alcohol on the first of the month. There went our plans for drinks tonight with the Transsib people anyways...
At 10:30 we paid and went back to the hostel.
At 12:30 we were contemplating packing for the train in the morning when Brian decided to call home - and we found out my Grandpa Seymour, my mom's dad, had died the night before. It was sad news but we were relieved to know that he chose how he wanted to die and that he didn't want to be a burden to his children. I really do admire this selfless act of caring. And his time had come, when he decided it had (as he lived his whole life). There is nothing sad about a long life well lived (well lived except for the 2 packs of cigarettes a day for 70 years).
At 2 we settled in for 3.5 hours of sleep.
Today their word means "Road Block," because cars cannot move in the streets - the growth of population is far exceeding the infrastructure expansion required for such growth. Restaurants open late and close early - and each one has a different idea about good business hours. Food is priced at all different levels, even for the same thing. This city is sprouting out of nowhere and discovering itself - making a culture. It's amazing to think that Brian and I, as part of a collective of visitors to this baby city, by walking into a restaurant late when it's closed or leaving a place that's overpriced, are not being just tourists - we're helping to establish a culture.
A perfect example of how unprepared this city is to be a real city is this. Next to the main square is a skyscraper that some investors had built to take advantage of the businesses and offices that are needed now in the city. It's about 40 stories tall (maybe less), and has a beautiful whale tail-like design running up the back spine of the building. The outside windows are a deep reflective blue, and it looks like it could go in any modern city. With the exception of the fact that it's leaning.
That's right; UB builders were so eager to have a skyscraper like every other city, they forgot to make sure it was straight up-and-down... and built it at a slight angle. Now it's empty and awaiting demolition because it is uninhabitable.
***
Woke up at 6:30, couldn't fall back to sleep, so I called a few people back home and passed the time until I woke Brian up at 10:30.
By 11:30 we had hit the streets. We stumbled into a Korean restaurant, which we only realized after we sat down and saw the menu. We ordered far too much food but enjoyed it nonetheless.
We wandered down to the National Culture Park, but it was closed, ironically symbolic of Mongolia's culture 20 years ago - closed.
Back to Сукбаатар Square, and on to the National Museum.
The museum was small, and only 3 floors, so we bought our tickets (5000T for 2! Circa $4 total) and were in and out within an hour. It was interesting but I think there's more to learn on the streets of the history in motion of UB than in that museum.
Walking towards the State Department Store for some souvineer shopping, we passed a familiar face. I grabbed Brian and said "that's Cia and Tal!" we turned around and found Cia, Tal, and Byra, our friends from the Transsib, talking on the street. Like yesterday with Marcel, I marvel at how small this world (and this city, I guess) is. We exchanged numbers in the hopes of meeting up later, and went our separate ways. We never heard from them again, until Brian got an email from Cia explaining she'd lost my number.
Brian and I went to the department store, buying two souvineer Mongolian traditional communal shotglasses in a shop, bringing the total number of shotglasses bought on this trip to 39 (6 in St. Pete, 32 with the chess set, and this one for me).
We spent some time on the top two floors of the store, looking for souvineers. Brian bought a book for his office on Mongolian Business Tycoons (who are making almost $6,000 a year!) but we got nothing else.
Walked back to the hostel and arrived just past 5 for siesta.
At 9 we were still in the hostel and relaxing. We hadn't heard from Cia or Tal or Byra, so we went out to dinner. Stopped on Seoul Street at BD's, a Mongolian BBQ Flattop-type restaurant. We had an all you can eat buffet of Mongolian deliciousness.
When we sat at the restaurant we tried to order a beer. They said no one in the city is allowed to serve alcohol on the first of the month. There went our plans for drinks tonight with the Transsib people anyways...
At 10:30 we paid and went back to the hostel.
At 12:30 we were contemplating packing for the train in the morning when Brian decided to call home - and we found out my Grandpa Seymour, my mom's dad, had died the night before. It was sad news but we were relieved to know that he chose how he wanted to die and that he didn't want to be a burden to his children. I really do admire this selfless act of caring. And his time had come, when he decided it had (as he lived his whole life). There is nothing sad about a long life well lived (well lived except for the 2 packs of cigarettes a day for 70 years).
At 2 we settled in for 3.5 hours of sleep.
6/30/10
The World's Greatest Conman... and Beer
I woke up at 8, later than the everyone else (excluding the 12-year-old boy who was fast asleep, and Brian), and set about packing so Brian and I could leave after breakfast.
Breakfast was in the kitchen Ger, the family's second and smaller ger. It consisted of pasta mixed with curry, peppers, green beans, pumpkin, and last nights lamb. Delicious - and while I may sound repetative when I use that word for almost every meal, it's not because I have no food standards, but because all these meals really are delicious!
At 8:30 I woke Brian up and he came to eat. By 9:30 we were on the road.
The drive was quiet, I slept most of the way (until the hour of it that had no road and we offroaded through the steppe). Of the five hour drive, about an hour was spent discussing politics with Gans. We had been warned to not discuss politics with Mongolians because they become very angry and violent, but Gans is very intelligent and passive, though opinionated.
At 1:30 we stopped at the driver's home in Ulaanbaatar and he went in to grab something. We were invited upstairs to look. He had a great little apartment with a wolf skin and fish skin on the wall. He showed us his hunting rifle and we left.
At 2 we arrived at the hostel. We took well deserved showers and rested until 4, when we left to see a bit of UB.
We walked for a while until we found ourselves wandering down Peace Ave. We saw SubBaatar, the place we ate for breakfast yesterday and went inside. Another delicious sub.
We made an attempt to see the Moon Ensemble, which had been recommended to us, but we couldn't find it, so we went to Sookbaatar square, complete with a statue of Sookbaatar (who ousted both the Chinese and the Russians successively and is credited with much of modern Mongolia's independence) and Chinggis Khan.
After a short walk, we set foot into North Korea... Well, the embassy, but by every international law we were and have been in North Korea. Probably the first American's in a long time to get in and out unscathed.
We stopped to get ice cream on our next part of our walk, and as we left someone grabbed Brian's arm. Brian twisted away and ducked to one side, and when we looked over, it was Marcel! The worlds greatest conman strikes again! First we roomed with him in Moscow, then we ended up staying in the same place in Irkutsk, and now we bump into him on the street in Ulaanbaatar! Small world.
Brian and I started calling Marcel the worlds greatest conman because he fits the stereotype so perfectly. He has a broad disarming smile and a fantastic yodelers mustache, a Maurice Chevalier accent and has refused to come with us every time we've bumped into him so far. On top of that, he told us incredible stories about a life that's almost unreal on the train, then got picked up under a different name than we knew him by in Irkutsk, and refused to join us when we saw him for the THIRD time in a third place!
I figured out why Marcel has never accepted our invitations to join us where we are going, either in Irkutsk or in UB. He's been dreaming of this trip for years - and now that he's finally doing it, he is not looking to make any lasting friendships. Rather, he wants to have only great first impressions so he doesn't run the risk of not liking anyone in the long run. He wants this vacation to be perfect... but it's hilarious to think that in UB he's the Sultan of Dubai and in Dubai he's Prime Minister of Mongolia, or in Irkutsk he's a diamond miner in sub-saharan Africa..
Marcel was with a Frenchman he had met on the train from Irkutsk to UB, and when Marcel went his own way the three of us remaining walked to the Gandantegchenling Monastery, the biggest Buddhist Monastery in UB.
They charged us 3500T (about $3 at 1300T per dollar) each to get in, but we weren't allowed to take pictures. I took a few of the 80 foot Buddha statue anyway. We headed to the hostel at 7.
At the foot of the monastery road we said au revoir to our French friend who's name I forget, and we walked towards the room. Stopped for a beer on the way in a bar catering to Mongolians only - our kind of place.
Rested until 10:30 at Idre's Guesthouse, our quaint hostel.
At 10:45 we left and stopped at a restaurant a little ways from Idre's. We figured we'd try the pizza they advertised. Opting out of the Hawaiian pizza when we realized it had no pineapple on it (what?) we got a meat lovers pizza.
I ordered a Mongolian beer that we had seen advertised as having won gold in some huge international competition. I was skeptical that the competition was anything worthy of note until I tasted it. Fusion Beer is delicious. We decided our goal tomorrow, our last full day in Mongolia, would be to ship home a case or two. It probably won't happen but a boy can dream, can't he?
Bed by midnight.
Breakfast was in the kitchen Ger, the family's second and smaller ger. It consisted of pasta mixed with curry, peppers, green beans, pumpkin, and last nights lamb. Delicious - and while I may sound repetative when I use that word for almost every meal, it's not because I have no food standards, but because all these meals really are delicious!
At 8:30 I woke Brian up and he came to eat. By 9:30 we were on the road.
The drive was quiet, I slept most of the way (until the hour of it that had no road and we offroaded through the steppe). Of the five hour drive, about an hour was spent discussing politics with Gans. We had been warned to not discuss politics with Mongolians because they become very angry and violent, but Gans is very intelligent and passive, though opinionated.
At 1:30 we stopped at the driver's home in Ulaanbaatar and he went in to grab something. We were invited upstairs to look. He had a great little apartment with a wolf skin and fish skin on the wall. He showed us his hunting rifle and we left.
At 2 we arrived at the hostel. We took well deserved showers and rested until 4, when we left to see a bit of UB.
We walked for a while until we found ourselves wandering down Peace Ave. We saw SubBaatar, the place we ate for breakfast yesterday and went inside. Another delicious sub.
We made an attempt to see the Moon Ensemble, which had been recommended to us, but we couldn't find it, so we went to Sookbaatar square, complete with a statue of Sookbaatar (who ousted both the Chinese and the Russians successively and is credited with much of modern Mongolia's independence) and Chinggis Khan.
After a short walk, we set foot into North Korea... Well, the embassy, but by every international law we were and have been in North Korea. Probably the first American's in a long time to get in and out unscathed.
We stopped to get ice cream on our next part of our walk, and as we left someone grabbed Brian's arm. Brian twisted away and ducked to one side, and when we looked over, it was Marcel! The worlds greatest conman strikes again! First we roomed with him in Moscow, then we ended up staying in the same place in Irkutsk, and now we bump into him on the street in Ulaanbaatar! Small world.
Brian and I started calling Marcel the worlds greatest conman because he fits the stereotype so perfectly. He has a broad disarming smile and a fantastic yodelers mustache, a Maurice Chevalier accent and has refused to come with us every time we've bumped into him so far. On top of that, he told us incredible stories about a life that's almost unreal on the train, then got picked up under a different name than we knew him by in Irkutsk, and refused to join us when we saw him for the THIRD time in a third place!
I figured out why Marcel has never accepted our invitations to join us where we are going, either in Irkutsk or in UB. He's been dreaming of this trip for years - and now that he's finally doing it, he is not looking to make any lasting friendships. Rather, he wants to have only great first impressions so he doesn't run the risk of not liking anyone in the long run. He wants this vacation to be perfect... but it's hilarious to think that in UB he's the Sultan of Dubai and in Dubai he's Prime Minister of Mongolia, or in Irkutsk he's a diamond miner in sub-saharan Africa..
Marcel was with a Frenchman he had met on the train from Irkutsk to UB, and when Marcel went his own way the three of us remaining walked to the Gandantegchenling Monastery, the biggest Buddhist Monastery in UB.
They charged us 3500T (about $3 at 1300T per dollar) each to get in, but we weren't allowed to take pictures. I took a few of the 80 foot Buddha statue anyway. We headed to the hostel at 7.
At the foot of the monastery road we said au revoir to our French friend who's name I forget, and we walked towards the room. Stopped for a beer on the way in a bar catering to Mongolians only - our kind of place.
Rested until 10:30 at Idre's Guesthouse, our quaint hostel.
At 10:45 we left and stopped at a restaurant a little ways from Idre's. We figured we'd try the pizza they advertised. Opting out of the Hawaiian pizza when we realized it had no pineapple on it (what?) we got a meat lovers pizza.
I ordered a Mongolian beer that we had seen advertised as having won gold in some huge international competition. I was skeptical that the competition was anything worthy of note until I tasted it. Fusion Beer is delicious. We decided our goal tomorrow, our last full day in Mongolia, would be to ship home a case or two. It probably won't happen but a boy can dream, can't he?
Bed by midnight.
6/29/10
Shocking
I awoke deep into Mongolia at 5:30. We packed and the train arrived at 6:10. I had exchanged contact info with Michael and Enk and we went our separate ways.
Off the track, we waited for Gans, our guide for the next two days.
I was about to call him when Gans showed up - a small, young, thin guy who speaks fantastic English. We got all our stuff into a very nice Mitsubishi Jeep-style car and went to run some errands.
Pulled 75,000 Tugriks (About 1300T to the USD) out of a bank. Stopped at a few places to look for food but nothing was open until we hit an American restaurant at 7 on Peace Avenue. We met John, and ExPat from San Francisco who has been here 11 years. He gave us a fantastic impromptu history of Mongolia with his Canada coffee mug and giant map of Mongolia as he sat with us - and made us delicious egg wraps, USA style. Gans left us for an hour to run some errands. John and I were talking, and in a beautiful moment for a situation I don't think will ever come again (and as there were no witnesses I need to spread this myself because it's so good), John was saying how some people will steal any horse in Mongolia because "a horse is a horse is a horse," and without missing a beat I said "Of course, of course." ...he's the amazing Mr. Ed!
At 8 we left because they were about to close the street for some big politician. We met up with Gans.
By 9 we were on the road and all errands were completed. We took our car over the pothole-filled Уланбаатар (Ulan Baatar) roads and off to the desert.
UB is a fast growing city that seems to be expanding too fast for it's own infrastructure to keep up. Until a few years ago there wasn't even a Mongolian word for traffic jam. Not anymore. But even then, with all the growth, a mile from the city center we passed a field of over 500 goats!
While the land was deserted right outisde UB, 2 hours into the famous Mongolian Steppe, Brian commented, "You know, when you said the middle of nowhere, I didn't think you meant nowhere! I don't think I've ever been THIS nowhere." There was nothing. It was shocking. "What happens if you run out of gas?" Brian asked. "Uhh, you try to catch a horse," Gans replied. In a country where horses outnumber humans 13-1, that might actually be ok.
We arrived at 1 to the Ger we were staying in this weekend, in the middle of nowhere on the border between the Steppe and the Gobi, what I have dubbed unofficially the halflands. Gans calls it "fake Gobi" because some tour companies tell you it's the real Gobi Desert, and even though this place has the same climate and conditions as the Gobi, there is non-Gobi land between this area and the real thing. But it was still a really a shocking sight.
The home we were to stay in was a few miles off the road, in the middle of a vast expanse of grasslands, surrounded in the distance by mountains to the northwest, the east, and the south, and with the beginnings of the desert visible a km or two away to the southwest.
The homestead itself consists of a deteriorating stable for horses, a larger ger and a smaller ger. The largest of the two is about 7.5 feet tall at its highest point in the middle, and perhaps 15 feet in diameter. Three beds line the inside of the ger, which are occupied at night by the three children (an elder boy [12], a middle girl, and a very young boy, maybe 5) and a stove sits in the middle, with a chimney rising from the stove through the opening in the middle of the roof. There were personal belongings and family photos in the ger, but all in all they had a very sparse collection of "stuff." It's fitting that they do, though, since they move the family, and the house, four times a year.
The smaller ger serves as home to the parents, and is perhaps 9 feet in diameter, 5.5 feet tall in the middle (so I had to stay crouched when I stood up), and doubles as the main kitchen and storage. A stove is in the middle of that ger as well, and all the extra family things are piled around the outside. In all, it was a very culture-shock inducing scene at first.
When we first met the family, it was a little awkward at first. For one, we speak no Mongolian, and they speak no English. Gans translated for us. And second, their cousin (or someone close to them, the exact relation didn't come through in translation) had just died. He and a family horse had been struck by lightening and fried and died while the entire family was outside a few days ago. It was a shocking story.
After the initial awkwardness had passed, we had a lunch of noodle salad and bagel-like bread. At 3, Brian and I took a hike to a nearby mountain to the south. It took us an hour and a half to get to the top, but the view was amazing. To the south we could see the vast expanse of the desert, which just appears next to apparantly fertile grasslands. To the north we looked over endless flatness of brushlands and grazing lands interrupted by unexplained mountainous growth. The wind was strong and the sun was hot, and we had been hiking for an hour and a half, so when we got our fill of pictures, we turned back towards the ger, just a little unsure of whether we would find it again. There were only about 20 gers (not including the two tourist ger camps we could see) to choose from on the entire endless field, but they were miles apart..
Speaking of tourist gers, we are not in one. We are in a ger that hosts tourists. I know Gans, our tour guide, through four degrees of separation, and the distinction between his friend's ger and tourist gers is that this one is lived in, and we are merely flies on the wall of someone elses life. Tourist gers are only lived in when tourists occupy them, and life in the tourist gers is designed to make tourists happy. The ger we're in moves four times a year with the seasons for the animals. Tourist gers are in place all year and only operate during good months for tourism.
At 5, when we got back from our hike, Gans and our hosts were off to pay their respects to the family who had lost their son. They said they'd be back in an hour, so Brian and I were left alone in the family homsestead, passing the time with card games. 2 hours passed before they returned. They didn't apologize for their tardiness; Mongolians don't apologize.
While dinner was being prepared, Gans, Brian, the 12-year-old boy and I went for a horse ride. We saddled up and spent two hours trotting through the desert to the dunes, which we climbed on horseback. I felt very Lawrence of Arabia for most of that. On the way back Brian, who's horse just didn't like him and kept on turning around, asked to try my horse out... and he rode that horse all the way back to the ger. I took Brian's horse, then, which was perfectly nice to me, and did everything I asked it to, and had a wonderful ride back with Gans, discussing Buddhism as it relates to Mongolia, Tibet, and their political and social stability, while Brian and the boy rode ahead.
Dinner was traditional Mongolian barbeque -- stones are heated in fire until they are glowing red and then placed into a pot with meat and closed with a lid. The meat cooks inside. We had the latest slaughtered lamb of the family's stock. That and rice. A simple meal but oh so good.
While the meal was cooking we sat outside on various items we used as chairs, while someone broke out the Chinggis Khan Vodka and a Mongolian shotglass. A Mongolian shotglass is essentially a little bowl, but entire groups all drink from the same one. There is a very ritualistic way to drink from the bowl - one receives the bowl with their right hand, while their left hand is held full open, fingers together, towards the sky, with the fingertips just under the elbow side of the right forearm. One passes the bowl the same way. When one is about to drink, the right ring finger is dipped thrice into the alcohol and flicked into the air at each dip, to share the alcohol with traditional gods. During the first round of drink, each person drinks a whole bowl's worth of vodka in one gulp, in order of eldest to youngest. Then the bowl is refilled and passed as people sip from it, still with the same ritual. Brian and I had read that it's considered insulting to refuse a drink in Mongolia, especially for men, so we had to follow local customs...
And speaking of customs, apparantly it's good luck in Mongolia, when you take the meat out of the pot, to take a hot stone and put it in your hand, rolling it between your hands, then holding it in one, fingers closed around it, then rolling again, then holding it in the other, and so on. I got passed a hot stone and sucked up the shocking pain while I proved my manliness, which is a big thing in the country.
After dinner we watched a little World Cup on the tiny staticky tv in the corner of the ger, followed by sleep. Brian and I were offered two of the three beds, but we declined in favor of the floor. When I lay down my sleeping bag, though, Gans said our host wanted me to turn it around. I asked why, and Gans said because I had to point my head towards the Buddist shrine! So I did and lay down for sleep.
Bedtime at starry time. I so quickly lost the need to measure time, by sundown I didn't know what hour it was. The stars tonight are unobstructed, and they are gorgeous. With a lifestyle like this, one can truly appreciate the stars...
Off the track, we waited for Gans, our guide for the next two days.
I was about to call him when Gans showed up - a small, young, thin guy who speaks fantastic English. We got all our stuff into a very nice Mitsubishi Jeep-style car and went to run some errands.
Pulled 75,000 Tugriks (About 1300T to the USD) out of a bank. Stopped at a few places to look for food but nothing was open until we hit an American restaurant at 7 on Peace Avenue. We met John, and ExPat from San Francisco who has been here 11 years. He gave us a fantastic impromptu history of Mongolia with his Canada coffee mug and giant map of Mongolia as he sat with us - and made us delicious egg wraps, USA style. Gans left us for an hour to run some errands. John and I were talking, and in a beautiful moment for a situation I don't think will ever come again (and as there were no witnesses I need to spread this myself because it's so good), John was saying how some people will steal any horse in Mongolia because "a horse is a horse is a horse," and without missing a beat I said "Of course, of course." ...he's the amazing Mr. Ed!
At 8 we left because they were about to close the street for some big politician. We met up with Gans.
By 9 we were on the road and all errands were completed. We took our car over the pothole-filled Уланбаатар (Ulan Baatar) roads and off to the desert.
UB is a fast growing city that seems to be expanding too fast for it's own infrastructure to keep up. Until a few years ago there wasn't even a Mongolian word for traffic jam. Not anymore. But even then, with all the growth, a mile from the city center we passed a field of over 500 goats!
While the land was deserted right outisde UB, 2 hours into the famous Mongolian Steppe, Brian commented, "You know, when you said the middle of nowhere, I didn't think you meant nowhere! I don't think I've ever been THIS nowhere." There was nothing. It was shocking. "What happens if you run out of gas?" Brian asked. "Uhh, you try to catch a horse," Gans replied. In a country where horses outnumber humans 13-1, that might actually be ok.
We arrived at 1 to the Ger we were staying in this weekend, in the middle of nowhere on the border between the Steppe and the Gobi, what I have dubbed unofficially the halflands. Gans calls it "fake Gobi" because some tour companies tell you it's the real Gobi Desert, and even though this place has the same climate and conditions as the Gobi, there is non-Gobi land between this area and the real thing. But it was still a really a shocking sight.
The home we were to stay in was a few miles off the road, in the middle of a vast expanse of grasslands, surrounded in the distance by mountains to the northwest, the east, and the south, and with the beginnings of the desert visible a km or two away to the southwest.
The homestead itself consists of a deteriorating stable for horses, a larger ger and a smaller ger. The largest of the two is about 7.5 feet tall at its highest point in the middle, and perhaps 15 feet in diameter. Three beds line the inside of the ger, which are occupied at night by the three children (an elder boy [12], a middle girl, and a very young boy, maybe 5) and a stove sits in the middle, with a chimney rising from the stove through the opening in the middle of the roof. There were personal belongings and family photos in the ger, but all in all they had a very sparse collection of "stuff." It's fitting that they do, though, since they move the family, and the house, four times a year.
The smaller ger serves as home to the parents, and is perhaps 9 feet in diameter, 5.5 feet tall in the middle (so I had to stay crouched when I stood up), and doubles as the main kitchen and storage. A stove is in the middle of that ger as well, and all the extra family things are piled around the outside. In all, it was a very culture-shock inducing scene at first.
When we first met the family, it was a little awkward at first. For one, we speak no Mongolian, and they speak no English. Gans translated for us. And second, their cousin (or someone close to them, the exact relation didn't come through in translation) had just died. He and a family horse had been struck by lightening and fried and died while the entire family was outside a few days ago. It was a shocking story.
After the initial awkwardness had passed, we had a lunch of noodle salad and bagel-like bread. At 3, Brian and I took a hike to a nearby mountain to the south. It took us an hour and a half to get to the top, but the view was amazing. To the south we could see the vast expanse of the desert, which just appears next to apparantly fertile grasslands. To the north we looked over endless flatness of brushlands and grazing lands interrupted by unexplained mountainous growth. The wind was strong and the sun was hot, and we had been hiking for an hour and a half, so when we got our fill of pictures, we turned back towards the ger, just a little unsure of whether we would find it again. There were only about 20 gers (not including the two tourist ger camps we could see) to choose from on the entire endless field, but they were miles apart..
Speaking of tourist gers, we are not in one. We are in a ger that hosts tourists. I know Gans, our tour guide, through four degrees of separation, and the distinction between his friend's ger and tourist gers is that this one is lived in, and we are merely flies on the wall of someone elses life. Tourist gers are only lived in when tourists occupy them, and life in the tourist gers is designed to make tourists happy. The ger we're in moves four times a year with the seasons for the animals. Tourist gers are in place all year and only operate during good months for tourism.
At 5, when we got back from our hike, Gans and our hosts were off to pay their respects to the family who had lost their son. They said they'd be back in an hour, so Brian and I were left alone in the family homsestead, passing the time with card games. 2 hours passed before they returned. They didn't apologize for their tardiness; Mongolians don't apologize.
While dinner was being prepared, Gans, Brian, the 12-year-old boy and I went for a horse ride. We saddled up and spent two hours trotting through the desert to the dunes, which we climbed on horseback. I felt very Lawrence of Arabia for most of that. On the way back Brian, who's horse just didn't like him and kept on turning around, asked to try my horse out... and he rode that horse all the way back to the ger. I took Brian's horse, then, which was perfectly nice to me, and did everything I asked it to, and had a wonderful ride back with Gans, discussing Buddhism as it relates to Mongolia, Tibet, and their political and social stability, while Brian and the boy rode ahead.
Dinner was traditional Mongolian barbeque -- stones are heated in fire until they are glowing red and then placed into a pot with meat and closed with a lid. The meat cooks inside. We had the latest slaughtered lamb of the family's stock. That and rice. A simple meal but oh so good.
While the meal was cooking we sat outside on various items we used as chairs, while someone broke out the Chinggis Khan Vodka and a Mongolian shotglass. A Mongolian shotglass is essentially a little bowl, but entire groups all drink from the same one. There is a very ritualistic way to drink from the bowl - one receives the bowl with their right hand, while their left hand is held full open, fingers together, towards the sky, with the fingertips just under the elbow side of the right forearm. One passes the bowl the same way. When one is about to drink, the right ring finger is dipped thrice into the alcohol and flicked into the air at each dip, to share the alcohol with traditional gods. During the first round of drink, each person drinks a whole bowl's worth of vodka in one gulp, in order of eldest to youngest. Then the bowl is refilled and passed as people sip from it, still with the same ritual. Brian and I had read that it's considered insulting to refuse a drink in Mongolia, especially for men, so we had to follow local customs...
And speaking of customs, apparantly it's good luck in Mongolia, when you take the meat out of the pot, to take a hot stone and put it in your hand, rolling it between your hands, then holding it in one, fingers closed around it, then rolling again, then holding it in the other, and so on. I got passed a hot stone and sucked up the shocking pain while I proved my manliness, which is a big thing in the country.
After dinner we watched a little World Cup on the tiny staticky tv in the corner of the ger, followed by sleep. Brian and I were offered two of the three beds, but we declined in favor of the floor. When I lay down my sleeping bag, though, Gans said our host wanted me to turn it around. I asked why, and Gans said because I had to point my head towards the Buddist shrine! So I did and lay down for sleep.
Bedtime at starry time. I so quickly lost the need to measure time, by sundown I didn't know what hour it was. The stars tonight are unobstructed, and they are gorgeous. With a lifestyle like this, one can truly appreciate the stars...
6/28/10
Former Great Glorious Nation of People's Mongolia
I awoke at 9 to a much more arid(er) landscape than I fell asleep to. Last night we were passing the southern tip of Lake Baikal, today we are in a prairieland of sorts.
Mountains loomed in the distance, trees sparse, perpetual lightning overhead, but no rain. Tufts of grasses rose over the parched land. The occasional herder moving his cattle over the land. Goats on hillsides and cows roaming through tiny villages. Was it Mongolia? No, just more Russia, with promises of what Mongolia might be.
I wandered to the back of the train to look at the third class cabin as Brian had suggested I do yesterday. He said it was one huge room with triple bunk beds lining the walls with an aisle in the middle. I went to look, and to my surprise I found that suddenly my car, the fourth car (including engine) in a train of about 15 yesterday, was now 4th of 4. We has lost the other cars.
A tad before noon we saw several tanks out our window on flatbed train cars. I wonder where they're going?
Since Sophia and Michael are living in Shanghai for five weeks and don't speak Chinese, I wrote out for them several key phrases for survival. How to order food and beer, find the exit, count and negotiate in a marketplace.
At 1:20 we arrived at Наушки, the last town in Russia. We were told we'd be waiting an hour for passport and visa check (we don't have a visa because America has a special deal with Mongolia), and then we could go outside and wait another 4 hours.
By 3 nothing had happened. Michael, Sophia, Brian and I had been playing Spades for a while and wanted to know what was up. We asked and with the help of Ink (a Mongolian we met, goes to school in Little Rock and lives in UB) we found out we had 1:30 off the train before we had to be on for passports. We got off with him and went to a market.
Brian, Ink, and I went to a little cafe with very little selection for an hour. We came back to find our train gone from the track. We found it was moved so went to look for car 11. Almost got on a car 11 that was bound back to Irkutsk. We did find ours though - it was now the only car behind the engine. Down from a dozen or more to 3 to 2 and now 1.
For about an hour we periodically got passported by Russians. They left with our passports the last time.
At 6:15 a guard showed up and passed back our passports. He then asked us to get out of the room. A woman went in and did a quick sweep of the room, we can't be sure for what. We got back inside and finished our game of Spades. At 6:45 Sophia and I beat Michael and Brian 539-450, and 20 seconds later the train started moving again.
15 minutes after that we stopped to let off customs officials, where we got Mongolian entrance forms. 10 minutes after that we stopped again. We don't know why.
At 15 to 8 we started up again, passing more gorgeous mountains and passes and lakes and trees. I'm already getting a good feeling about this country, despite the crazy border security.
We stopped again at Сухбaатар, in Mongolia. Passport check and customs. We got all our stuff back and at 8 (9 by Irkutsk time) we were let off the train for an hour to find ourselves without an engine. Now it was just our car on the tracks.
With 45 minutes before we were supposed to be back at the train, we walked onto the tracks behind a train that had pulled in between us and the station to find ourselves without a train at all. 12 to 4 to 2 to 1 to 0. And then there were none.
We found the car after all, car eleven, attached to the end of the train arrived from UB, getting ready to return to UB. It attached onto car 10, so for once our car number makes sense.. It all comes together.
We left finally at 9, free to explore the Mongolian landscape, stamps in passports and all.
Spent two hours chilling with Michael and Sophia and Enk and Brian playing cards. We get in at 6am tomorrow, so I write this at 11 as I go to sleep.
Mountains loomed in the distance, trees sparse, perpetual lightning overhead, but no rain. Tufts of grasses rose over the parched land. The occasional herder moving his cattle over the land. Goats on hillsides and cows roaming through tiny villages. Was it Mongolia? No, just more Russia, with promises of what Mongolia might be.
I wandered to the back of the train to look at the third class cabin as Brian had suggested I do yesterday. He said it was one huge room with triple bunk beds lining the walls with an aisle in the middle. I went to look, and to my surprise I found that suddenly my car, the fourth car (including engine) in a train of about 15 yesterday, was now 4th of 4. We has lost the other cars.
A tad before noon we saw several tanks out our window on flatbed train cars. I wonder where they're going?
Since Sophia and Michael are living in Shanghai for five weeks and don't speak Chinese, I wrote out for them several key phrases for survival. How to order food and beer, find the exit, count and negotiate in a marketplace.
At 1:20 we arrived at Наушки, the last town in Russia. We were told we'd be waiting an hour for passport and visa check (we don't have a visa because America has a special deal with Mongolia), and then we could go outside and wait another 4 hours.
By 3 nothing had happened. Michael, Sophia, Brian and I had been playing Spades for a while and wanted to know what was up. We asked and with the help of Ink (a Mongolian we met, goes to school in Little Rock and lives in UB) we found out we had 1:30 off the train before we had to be on for passports. We got off with him and went to a market.
Brian, Ink, and I went to a little cafe with very little selection for an hour. We came back to find our train gone from the track. We found it was moved so went to look for car 11. Almost got on a car 11 that was bound back to Irkutsk. We did find ours though - it was now the only car behind the engine. Down from a dozen or more to 3 to 2 and now 1.
For about an hour we periodically got passported by Russians. They left with our passports the last time.
At 6:15 a guard showed up and passed back our passports. He then asked us to get out of the room. A woman went in and did a quick sweep of the room, we can't be sure for what. We got back inside and finished our game of Spades. At 6:45 Sophia and I beat Michael and Brian 539-450, and 20 seconds later the train started moving again.
15 minutes after that we stopped to let off customs officials, where we got Mongolian entrance forms. 10 minutes after that we stopped again. We don't know why.
At 15 to 8 we started up again, passing more gorgeous mountains and passes and lakes and trees. I'm already getting a good feeling about this country, despite the crazy border security.
We stopped again at Сухбaатар, in Mongolia. Passport check and customs. We got all our stuff back and at 8 (9 by Irkutsk time) we were let off the train for an hour to find ourselves without an engine. Now it was just our car on the tracks.
With 45 minutes before we were supposed to be back at the train, we walked onto the tracks behind a train that had pulled in between us and the station to find ourselves without a train at all. 12 to 4 to 2 to 1 to 0. And then there were none.
We found the car after all, car eleven, attached to the end of the train arrived from UB, getting ready to return to UB. It attached onto car 10, so for once our car number makes sense.. It all comes together.
We left finally at 9, free to explore the Mongolian landscape, stamps in passports and all.
Spent two hours chilling with Michael and Sophia and Enk and Brian playing cards. We get in at 6am tomorrow, so I write this at 11 as I go to sleep.
6/27/10
Risk: A Game of World Domination
I woke up at 9, rested for once, and made my way downstairs for breakfast.
I bumped into Marcel, whom I would not see again, and said my goodbyes. I ate breakfast with Michael and Toby, a German father and son from Munich who had always wanted to take the Trans-Sib.
Back in the room, I read on the balcony for a while and then, with Brian, packed up the room and shaved for the first time in two weeks and left around 11:30. From our balcony before we left we heard the very distinct and very loud call of a freshwater seal. It was very cool.
We stopped at the market by the lake and bought 5 smoked fish, 1 of them hot. Standing next to Lake Baikal we ate the hot fish, saving the rest for tonight and tomorrow on the train.
Brian found a minivan that was taking passengers to Irkutsk for 100руб per person and 30руб per bag. Meanwhile I was staring at the lake and saw several seals crest above the water before diving back in.
$8 total is cheap for an hour drive, so we accepted and climbed aboard.
12:15 we were underway. These buses don't leave until they are full, so we had to wait until all but one seat was taken.
I said my silent goodbyes to Listvyanka.
I woke up mid car ride, and I could see myself, tearing at the road faster than any other boy has ever gone (Meat Loaf?). We were driving both recklessly and insanely, playing the Hungarian Chicken Dance in a car with 14 people in the rain.
At the end of the bus ride, we walked to the next street to catch a bus to the train station, but there were none that were 16 or 116 (although there was 16c..). We waited for a moment and then talked to a few cabs. No one would do it for less than 200руб so we agreed to that price and got in.
The next twenty minutes consisted of the taxi driver going the wrong way, yelling at us about two stations, offering to drive us back to Listvyanka, saying that we should pay him 500руб, him smoking, talking on the phone, and shifting gears at once, me yelling at him in broken Russian, and eventually, being let off at the train station in one piece for 200 like we wanted. I did give him about 50руб in tip though, which caused him to yell at me for more...
We went inside the station and found a luggage drop place. We paid 158руб for two backpacks and left them there. It was 2 or so and our train left at 9:50 Irkutsk time, or maybe 4:50... Or 4:50 Moscow time, which is 9:50 irkutsk time... It was all very confusing. We left the station with just a laptop and a backpack to walk back to where the bus dropped us off to begin with.
Wandering through back streets and them some main ones, we think we got a real feel for the town. Irkutsk was known during Soviet Times for being the center of anti-Lenin and Stalinism, thus a Karl Marx Street and a museum for Trotsky we passed. Things are MUCH cheaper than in Moscow or St. Petersburg. We also realized why no one will negotiate with us at markets. Until 20 years ago, prices were fixed by the government. Maybe they don't realize that they are in control now, and they don't lower their prices as a result!
3:30 we arrived at the main market from which the bus back to the train station will leave. We got a blini from a Tepemok competitor on the street and stopped into Fiesta, a random cafe with wifi.
Wandered into the market, which was basically a mall. Looked around at random stuff before finding a shop with random items. I bought a beautiful souvineer that exemplifies the best that Russia has to offer: a chess set whose pieces are shotglasses. Lose a piece, take a shot.
Brian bought an extension cord for the trains; essential for a train whose outlets are on either end of the car.
We wandered through some back streets, marveling at the Asian influence of this European nation in Asia. Houses had strong European-style Asiatic frill on the roofs and window sill.
Brian pointed out that Irkutsk's buildings are very often pre-WWII, even pre-WWI. In a country that was at war with Germany, Irkutsk was so far from bombing its buildings were safe. So nothing of those eras have been destroyed. We went into a small set of three houses that are now seemingly owned by three families but were clearly once owned by one. A master house, a servants quarters and/or kitchen house, and a former stable. Very interesting.
We found a store in a back alley that sold vodka for the train. Because it was so far from any place a tourist or wealthy citizen would be, it was very cheap.
To waste time, we stopped in a local bistro at 5 and got two beers. It cost our last Roubles.
With 10 kopeks left (0.10 руб) we were ready for the train. But only after I played a game of Risk on my iPhone. The opponents fought valiantly, but I won, and the last territory conquered was Irkutsk. So satisfying.
We took a long, meandering route by foot back to the train station because we had so much time. Arriving at 8 in the train station, we passed on the way everything Irkutsk has to offer; the Irkutsk city center, complete with horses and Mongolian camels for children; fountains; a synagogue?!; the city (or region?) government building; three churches, one polish, and one we tried twice to climb (I got into a stairway that was horrifically cramped and completely dark); parks; and a WWII memorial. We felt by the end we had truly conquered Irkutsk, in a way that no game of Risk could do.
At 9:22 they announced train 362 on track 3. Everyone in the train station rushed to get on. We went to the train in our leasurely way.
We got to train 11 which, although three digit trains are worse than others, was a Mongolian train, and thus was far nicer. We even had ornamental rugs covering the bottom beds. Our window worked too!
We met our Swedish roommates Michael and Sophia. They are med students taking 5 weeks of study in Shanghai, learning neurology and rehabilitation and traditional Chinese medicine.
We found in the top compartment two fans in two boxes. Assuming these were small room fans (small box), Michael and I proceeded to assemble one. It turned out the fan was a four foot floor fan and didn't even work when we tried to connect it after twenty minutes of painful assembly.
We half-disassembled the fan and stuck it under the little table in out luxurious apartment.
An hour into our ride we went 10:30 we went to explore the train. Very quickly we found out that this train, though our room is very nice, has no dining car or restaurant. Just small drinks and meat for sale in each car. Our Mongolian car only sells in Tugrugs, Mongolian currency, so we have to go to a third class car that sells noodles.
While Brian was getting noodles, our
conductor arrived to get her fans... Awkward. She yelled at us in Mongolian for a little bit and I quickly left to get Brian, who had given the unopened other one to a couple from New Zealand. One of the Mongolian women followed me and found the open and empty box for our assembled fan at the end of the car.
I found Brian, on his way back with instant noodles, and made him deal with the Mongols.
The four of us quickly disassembled the first fan and rebagged it. We were missing the fourth leg end piece but we hope she won't notice until the end of the train. We got the second fan from the Kiwis down the hall, unopened.
We apologized profusely... Who leaves their fan in a passengers room?
The rest of the night was uneventful, and I fell asleep around 1:30.
I bumped into Marcel, whom I would not see again, and said my goodbyes. I ate breakfast with Michael and Toby, a German father and son from Munich who had always wanted to take the Trans-Sib.
Back in the room, I read on the balcony for a while and then, with Brian, packed up the room and shaved for the first time in two weeks and left around 11:30. From our balcony before we left we heard the very distinct and very loud call of a freshwater seal. It was very cool.
We stopped at the market by the lake and bought 5 smoked fish, 1 of them hot. Standing next to Lake Baikal we ate the hot fish, saving the rest for tonight and tomorrow on the train.
Brian found a minivan that was taking passengers to Irkutsk for 100руб per person and 30руб per bag. Meanwhile I was staring at the lake and saw several seals crest above the water before diving back in.
$8 total is cheap for an hour drive, so we accepted and climbed aboard.
12:15 we were underway. These buses don't leave until they are full, so we had to wait until all but one seat was taken.
I said my silent goodbyes to Listvyanka.
I woke up mid car ride, and I could see myself, tearing at the road faster than any other boy has ever gone (Meat Loaf?). We were driving both recklessly and insanely, playing the Hungarian Chicken Dance in a car with 14 people in the rain.
At the end of the bus ride, we walked to the next street to catch a bus to the train station, but there were none that were 16 or 116 (although there was 16c..). We waited for a moment and then talked to a few cabs. No one would do it for less than 200руб so we agreed to that price and got in.
The next twenty minutes consisted of the taxi driver going the wrong way, yelling at us about two stations, offering to drive us back to Listvyanka, saying that we should pay him 500руб, him smoking, talking on the phone, and shifting gears at once, me yelling at him in broken Russian, and eventually, being let off at the train station in one piece for 200 like we wanted. I did give him about 50руб in tip though, which caused him to yell at me for more...
We went inside the station and found a luggage drop place. We paid 158руб for two backpacks and left them there. It was 2 or so and our train left at 9:50 Irkutsk time, or maybe 4:50... Or 4:50 Moscow time, which is 9:50 irkutsk time... It was all very confusing. We left the station with just a laptop and a backpack to walk back to where the bus dropped us off to begin with.
Wandering through back streets and them some main ones, we think we got a real feel for the town. Irkutsk was known during Soviet Times for being the center of anti-Lenin and Stalinism, thus a Karl Marx Street and a museum for Trotsky we passed. Things are MUCH cheaper than in Moscow or St. Petersburg. We also realized why no one will negotiate with us at markets. Until 20 years ago, prices were fixed by the government. Maybe they don't realize that they are in control now, and they don't lower their prices as a result!
3:30 we arrived at the main market from which the bus back to the train station will leave. We got a blini from a Tepemok competitor on the street and stopped into Fiesta, a random cafe with wifi.
Wandered into the market, which was basically a mall. Looked around at random stuff before finding a shop with random items. I bought a beautiful souvineer that exemplifies the best that Russia has to offer: a chess set whose pieces are shotglasses. Lose a piece, take a shot.
Brian bought an extension cord for the trains; essential for a train whose outlets are on either end of the car.
We wandered through some back streets, marveling at the Asian influence of this European nation in Asia. Houses had strong European-style Asiatic frill on the roofs and window sill.
Brian pointed out that Irkutsk's buildings are very often pre-WWII, even pre-WWI. In a country that was at war with Germany, Irkutsk was so far from bombing its buildings were safe. So nothing of those eras have been destroyed. We went into a small set of three houses that are now seemingly owned by three families but were clearly once owned by one. A master house, a servants quarters and/or kitchen house, and a former stable. Very interesting.
We found a store in a back alley that sold vodka for the train. Because it was so far from any place a tourist or wealthy citizen would be, it was very cheap.
To waste time, we stopped in a local bistro at 5 and got two beers. It cost our last Roubles.
With 10 kopeks left (0.10 руб) we were ready for the train. But only after I played a game of Risk on my iPhone. The opponents fought valiantly, but I won, and the last territory conquered was Irkutsk. So satisfying.
We took a long, meandering route by foot back to the train station because we had so much time. Arriving at 8 in the train station, we passed on the way everything Irkutsk has to offer; the Irkutsk city center, complete with horses and Mongolian camels for children; fountains; a synagogue?!; the city (or region?) government building; three churches, one polish, and one we tried twice to climb (I got into a stairway that was horrifically cramped and completely dark); parks; and a WWII memorial. We felt by the end we had truly conquered Irkutsk, in a way that no game of Risk could do.
At 9:22 they announced train 362 on track 3. Everyone in the train station rushed to get on. We went to the train in our leasurely way.
We got to train 11 which, although three digit trains are worse than others, was a Mongolian train, and thus was far nicer. We even had ornamental rugs covering the bottom beds. Our window worked too!
We met our Swedish roommates Michael and Sophia. They are med students taking 5 weeks of study in Shanghai, learning neurology and rehabilitation and traditional Chinese medicine.
We found in the top compartment two fans in two boxes. Assuming these were small room fans (small box), Michael and I proceeded to assemble one. It turned out the fan was a four foot floor fan and didn't even work when we tried to connect it after twenty minutes of painful assembly.
We half-disassembled the fan and stuck it under the little table in out luxurious apartment.
An hour into our ride we went 10:30 we went to explore the train. Very quickly we found out that this train, though our room is very nice, has no dining car or restaurant. Just small drinks and meat for sale in each car. Our Mongolian car only sells in Tugrugs, Mongolian currency, so we have to go to a third class car that sells noodles.
While Brian was getting noodles, our
conductor arrived to get her fans... Awkward. She yelled at us in Mongolian for a little bit and I quickly left to get Brian, who had given the unopened other one to a couple from New Zealand. One of the Mongolian women followed me and found the open and empty box for our assembled fan at the end of the car.
I found Brian, on his way back with instant noodles, and made him deal with the Mongols.
The four of us quickly disassembled the first fan and rebagged it. We were missing the fourth leg end piece but we hope she won't notice until the end of the train. We got the second fan from the Kiwis down the hall, unopened.
We apologized profusely... Who leaves their fan in a passengers room?
The rest of the night was uneventful, and I fell asleep around 1:30.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
