Mechanical failures so check-in's delayed. So I studied my Mongolian phrasebook for several hours. Then it turned out the flight was being delayed overnight.
After some thought, I blithely eschewed the airline's offer of a hotel room and meals in favour of taking the bus back to my apartment and sleeping on the couch. Friends and easy email access (and a mild dislike of hotel rooms) rule over convenience and material comfort. Yes, I know I'm crazy, though it wasn't until I got back with no keys and found everyone out that I quite appreciated the fact. Luckily the nice building guard let me leave my bags at his office while I went to the PC room; my friend saw my bags when she came back and correctly guessed where I'd gone.
Relaxed, caught up with the newsgroups, ate my friends' food, slept on the couch.
Day 2: Monday 7th July
In the morning, the airline phoned to say check-in was at 2.30pm and the flight probably at 6pm. Went back to the airport for 2.30pm. They said the flight was delayed until 8.30pm but they checked us in and gave us a meal coupon.
(That is, they looked at my passport and said, "You're overstaying?" My work visa expired yesterday, when my plane was meant to go. Luckily I had a Korean friend at the airport who knew just who to talk to to sort this out. But the immigration guy did warn me that if this happens again I have to pay a fine. Er, I'll try not to let it happen again, sir...)
Ate and used up most of my small change in phoning my Mongolian guesthouse. Went through the metal detectors, let them check our shoes for concealed nailclippers and all. Waste of time, if you ask me. Anyone planning to blow up this plane (wherever it might be) would be giving up by now and looking for a less elusive target, like Osama bin Laden.
Got to the boarding gate, where the sign suddenly said the flight was delayed until 11pm. This is where I start getting irritated... Still, this is why the airport has put power outlets in the wall, and why I keep my laptop in my carry-on. (That and that I don't want them throwing it about, but anyway.) Caught up with some writing.
Then they announced that the new flight time would be announced at 10pm, and they gave us another meal coupon. Not one to pass up a free meal, especially when all the shops were due to close within the hour, I hurried along. Ate. Came back. Traded pleasantries with other would-be-flyers on various subjects like hijacking a plane with a pair of nailclippers. One of my companions rushed off to find her boarding pass where she'd left it at the restaurant.
10pm. Heard a rumour that a plane was now on its way to Incheon. This rumour sounded awfully familiar. Our source added that (after an hour's cleaning -- we tried to argue that we weren't really fussy about the cleaning any more, but no go) we would be able to leave at about 1.30am.
Contemplated my fingernails. Pondered that if we had to stay here much longer I might need some nailclippers for more mundane reasons than hijacking a plane.
10:15. It's announced that our plane is going to arrive here at 2am. On further inquiry it turns out that the plane left the ground once and had to return. Noone's quite sure if it's left the ground a second time. We speculate that since they've run out of meal tickets they've decided to feed us lies instead.
Heard of a free internet station. Spent an hour there. Came back and slept on the seats.
Day 3: Tuesday 8th July
More announcements here and there. Heard at 3am that the plane had landed. At 3.30am we were moved to a new gate. At 4am we boarded and I was even reassured by a rumour that there was indeed someone there to load our bags. Departed 4.40. Slept on and off and felt very grumpy to be woken for snacks and breakfast.
Arrived at Ulaan Baatar at some time I wasn't awake enough to notice. Immigration and customs no problem, and I was met by the guy I organised my accommodation with, Toroo. He drove me to my apartment, about 3km out of the centre of town. He gave me three keys for the two doors and warned me not to go out after dark, or to answer the door unless he'd phoned me first to say he's coming.
Right: My bedroom/living room. On the rug on the wall are a clock shaped like a watch, and above it (yellow blotch) a photo of two children.
I briefly explored the place -- much bigger than I'd expected. Three rooms, ie kitchen, bathroom and a bedroom/living room, plus a little corridor between them. There's a television as advertised, and also a telephone. It looks like someone lives here and has gone on holiday for the month -- there are photos up, and spare hats, shoes and even a traditional del (dress/coat thing) hanging around. Crockery and cutlery, various bottles in the bathroom, pretty much everything I need to survive, apart from food and toilet paper.
Slept for several hours then decided I needed to go out and speak Mongolian -- and more importantly, buy toilet paper. Found a bank on the way to change money. Went right to Toroo's guesthouse in town (thought I might get around to paying him for the apartment, y'know) but noone seemed to be there so I just went to the department store next door and headed back.
Waiting for the lights to change, I had the great fortune to be robbed of my purse. Okay, so I lost about US$100 and my credit card, but I'd had at least the sense to hide money in two other places in my bag (which the thief didn't take; nor did he get my passport or digital camera also there) plus I kept travellers cheques back at the apartment.
And, being where the fortune comes in, I was informed of the theft by a Mongolian girl who helped me chase the thief -- to no avail -- and took me to cybercafe upon cybercafe so I could try reporting the credit card's loss -- ditto, internet seems to be entirely down this evening -- and generally made me speak with her in Mongolian. She's studying English, but it's honestly a toss-up as to which of us is worse in the other's language. (I was looking at her study notes, and actually her written vocab is not bad, albeit basic --- but her pronunciation at least is utterly atrocious, and mostly we've been talking in broken Mongolian.)
Left: My saviour and new Mongolian teacher.
She refused to be thanked and to go; eventually she walked all the way home with me. Her name is something that sounds like Purje. I invited her in and we talked a while more. Made plans for her to come over tomorrow and try the internet again, then go to her house, which I think might be a traditional ger. Given that my understanding of her speech consisted of "You khijikhij Mongolian house?" and my speech consisted of "No," and then trying frantically to figure out whether I just said "I haven't seen" or "I don't want to see", and frantically rustling through my phrasebook's grammar section to add "I have... not... seen... Mongolian house," I think we actually did pretty well. I only had to resort to drawing pictures twice.
While she was here, rang Toroo about the credit card. He promised to come in one hour. After 'Purje' left, I started putting away my groceries and discovered that the toilet paper I bought was missing. (Was the thief that desperate, or had I just left it at the supermarket?) Mr Head, meet Mr Wall.
A few hours to sort out the credit card; a bit more to go and buy more toilet paper; dinner, tv (a Korean soap and a movie), and bed.
Day 4: Wednesday 9th July
Attempted watching some Mongolian tv this morning in an effort to absorb the language by osmosis, but was never quite sure if I ended up on a Mongolian or Russian channel.
Had been nervous about the temperature of the fridge last night, especially since I'd cracked some eggs and already wasn't sure about the smell of the milk. So had put the milk and eggs in the icebox. This morning I opened the door to find frozen eggs and milk. Duh.
'Purje' came by as planned at 1pm, and we took a couple of buses to a market thronging with people, fruit, yoghurt, cheese, sausage, bloody sides of beef, etc. I stepped on something which turned out to be a chunk of some kind of wool. 'Purje' kept hold of my hand and made sure my bag was in front of me as we threaded through the crowd between the stalls. Most people in Western clothes but a few in traditional del. She bought a bottle of juice that we started drinking then and there; fruit, sausage, and a kind of biscuit.
From there we walked to her house, carrying the shopping bag with one hand each between us and eating a mandarin with the other hand. It was a fairly long way, along a road with only stones and dust for a sidewalk, and then over a bridge to where there were only stones and dust for a road. At first the houses seemed quite normal -- small and perhaps shabby -- with the occasional ger. After a while there were more and more ger and fewer and fewer houses. One building emitted a tune and 'Purje' told me, "Khoyor tsag bolj bain." (It's two o'clock.) A bit later we met her sister, who spoke good English, and the sister's friend, coming the other way.
Left: Traditional ger dotting the red-dusty hills.
Came to 'Purje's house, a traditional ger. Went inside where I met another sister, and the two girls spread a feast in front of me -- fruit, sausage, biscuits, bread, more fruit, juice, coffee.... and I was the only one eating. I at first only put the offered margarine on the bread, then they showed me I should spread on a teaspoon of sugar as well. The biscuits were made in a mould but the taste and texture were very strange. I think they must be somehow milk-based. They're very sweet but very dry, in a way that makes them stick to the roof of your mouth. I found myself having to wash them down after each mouthful.
Right: Puujee's ger.
We talked in the usual broken Mongolian, resorting frequently to our respective phrasebooks. I got them to write down their names: my friend (17 years old) is Purevjargal, 'Puujee' for short. (Sounds like the 'pu' from 'put', plus the "ge" from 'gentle', both sounds lengthened.) Her sister (26) is Tsetsegsaikhan, or Saikhnaa. It emerged that there are nine in the family: the parents (who I didn't meet), the three sisters I met, and four brothers (of whom I met two).
The ger had two couch/beds, with rugs on the wall behind them. A tv between them, and on the left side from the entrance were the pantry and fridge and then behind that a closet and dresser. A stove was in the middle by the support pole, above which was a flap to let out the smoke and let in the sun. It was nearly as hot inside as out; better with the door left open to let in a breeze.
Left: Saikhnaa and me, sitting on the back couch/bed. The other was on the right of the entrance. The poles on the ceiling were used for hanging things like coat hangers, and there was a saw stashed across them near the front. To the photo's left is a dresser, to the right a tv.
There were other buildings around -- an outhouse for sure, but I don't know about the others. Some of those brothers and sisters must live elsewhere.
One of the brothers drove us back to town, where we caught one more bus to get to my place. I got on the internet briefly, and showed Puugee our family homepage, with photos of everyone. Then we went to my place and taught each other Mongolian and English. Figured out why her accent is so bad (many sounds that just don't correspond) and realised that my Mongolian accent is likely just as terrible. Painstakingly made plans to meet tomorrow at the department store in town and go to visit Sukhbaatar Square.
Boiled my frozen eggs. Not bad results, considering, though the shells cracked worse and the yolks got slightly rubbery.
7pm - 8pm: It's weird to be home doing nothing but eating and writing a diary when it's still so light out. But it stays light until nine or ten here, and anyway I feel I've done my new thing for the day, and got my head stuffed full enough of Mongolian. Besides the day is definitely winding down: outside my cracked window the boys are playing basketball and the men are playing cards and dominoes.
Right: The view through my cracked window. (There are two window panes, only the outer one is cracked. Bottom right corner is a table of men playing cards tonight, dominoes yesterday.) The small boxes are little stalls where you can buy things. The whole apartment complex is painted blue like the building in the top left.
Day 5: Thursday 10th July
Slept in later than I'd meant -- the intensive Mongolian is likely taking its toll. Went to meet Puujee for another six hours of it. We met at the department store and I got there a bit early so I could explore the shop. On the third store I found a bookstore with a two-way dictionary for a good price; unfortunately I've taken to carrying very little cash around so I'll have to go back after the three-day holiday, Naadam.
We went to Sukhbaatar Square, but it was fenced off for preparations for Naadam. We hung around for a bit, watching some kind of ceremony where a band was playing for a pile of people wearing enough medals to constitute a decent breastplate. Then we sat by a fountain for a while while she drilled me in the colours and seasons.
Left: The band in Sukhbaatar Square.
We wandered down Peace Avenue for a while, stopping in a few souvenir shops to browse, and pausing for a snack at a cafe where her sister works. Then we walked up to Gandan Monastery. Kids were selling seed to feed the pigeons for 100T (100won, US10c). We got one bag and the pigeons came flocking around -- and so did more kids, including one girl who foisted a bag on us and then kept demanding the money for it, while refusing to take the bag back.
The monastery was similar in general colour style to buildings and temples in Korea, but there were a lot of differences too. Prayer wheels were the first I saw, and long columns of hanging fabric. Around the sides and back were hundreds of statues of different boddhisatvas, some with money tucked in by them.
Outside was a, um, thing, [see Zeb being articulate] from which hung bells, the idea being to go around three times ringing the bells.
Right: Us in front of the thing with hanging bells, in front of the Gandan temple.
On our way out the girl with the seed accosted us again, and we finally managed to give the bag back to her.
Puujee had a meeting at 3pm with a friend outside a market, so we went there and waited for a while, but the friend never showed, so we came back to my place and talked more. Talked for a bit about how it's traditional in Mongolia to sit on the floor, chairs, or the bed, and the different ways men and women sit -- men sit legs-crossed on the floor, and on the bed and chair sit with legs wide apart and hands on knees, elbows bent outwards, looking very regally grouchy. Women on the floor sit legs half-crossed, that is the left leg under them and the right leg with foot on ground and knee pointing up, hands on that knee. On chair and bed, they sit with one leg over the other.
Showed her photos from home and promised to send photos I've taken here to her once I can get them printed. Organised our next meeting for Sunday, to go to church together.
Tonight I quickly went to the shops before everything shuts for Naadam, came back and phoned the guesthouse to find out about the arrangements for their outing tomorrow. Degi said her husband Toroo will pick me up at 9:30am, so an even earlier night today.
Day 6: Friday 11th July (first day of Naadam)
Got up early and Toroo came by to take me to the guesthouse. Waited half an hour or so there while everyone got ready, and then drove on to the opening ceremony.
Naadam is a national festival held every year between 11th and 13th July, though some regional festivals are held at slightly different times. It's basically a celebration of the 'three manly sports': wrestling, archery, and horse-racing.
The opening ceremony was held at a stadium just outside the center of the city. Outside were hundreds of stalls selling drinks, icecreams, fruit, mutton kebabs, mutton pancakes, camera film, a calendar souvenir, toilet paper, raffle tickets, alcohol, etc. Degi bought me a drink called kvas, which looked and tasted like a sweet flat version of beer.
For some reason my ticket took me to a different entrance than everyone else so I spent the time alone. The tickets had no seat numbers, but one woman came up to me to ask where the numbers on the seats were, and wandered off trying to find 'her' seat.
The opening ceremony was like most such -- a band playing; some horses being ridden around the stadium, their riders jumping out of the saddle right, left, forwards, backwards, and back to their seat; a few camels; some parapenters trying to land on a small target in the centre of the field; Chingis Khan jumping out of an exploding structure, etc. Afterwards the wrestling started. I watched for a bit then went out to wander through the stalls and meet everyone back at the car.
Left: Part of the opening ceremony: crowds, the band, people in traditional del, horse riders bringing something symbolic to the stadium.
Had a mutton kebab on the way. Kebab plus a small salad, T100 (same in won, US 10cents). Tasted good, though was somewhat chewy. Waited a few minutes at the car before Degi turned up and took me to the archery. It took me a bit to spot the targets -- a short pile of tincan-sized objects set on the ground, the centre couple painted red rather than brown. The officials stood right beside this and waved their arms at each shot. None of them got shot in the toes though a few bad shots did seem close. I know nothing about archery so the most interesting things I noticed were a few left-handed archers, and that every archer had their bow-sleeve tied close to their arm with what looked like a spare bowstring.
Right: One of the archers -- they all wore traditional costume.
Next was the ankle-bone shooting, what I think is a new event. It was in a tent nearby, and the moment I stepped inside I was overwhelmed by the sound of musical calls and chants accompanying preparation and reaction to each shot. The game involved using the middle finger to flick a piece of bone along a wooden base, aiming at a target of anklebones. After each shot, along with the calls, a team of scorers(?) would throw the bone in the air a few times on the way back to the person who'd shot it. I couldn't figure out exactly how the scoring system worked, and our guide's English wasn't good enough to understand my questions.
We went back then to the guesthouse. There wasn't enough petrol to take me to my apartment, and little time to make it worth while, so I sat around in the kitchen and tried to convince everyone that I didn't need coffee, or a shower, or to change the channel on the tv, or food, I was quite happy to just sit and veg out.
About an hour later we got together again and went to Tumen Ekh, a performance of Mongolian songs and dance. I was slightly dubious about the absolute authenticity of a couple of the earlier pieces, but they showed us a great range of styles, and I had lots of fun looking at the costumes and trying to figure out how the woman made her tongue do that. The contortionist might have been more entertaining if I could have stopped myself wondering just how much damage she must have done to her bones and ligaments. Humans are not meant to be able to sit their butts on their heads.
I skipped the tourist shop, not having enough cash and guessing it to be overpriced, and came out to chat a little more with the people I'd met before the performance, a couple who'd been on my delayed plane Sunday-Tuesday. Degi took me home -- usually Toroo takes me, so she wasn't quite sure about the right entrance. "Is it this one?" she asked. I said, "I think so," recognising a certain pile of rubble on the footpath...
Day 7: Saturday 12th July (second day of Naadam)
I couldn't remember if I was meant to get picked up at 8am or 10am -- I thought they'd said 10, but my ticket said something about a 9am start. Got up early and when they didn't call I went back to sleep until 10. It turned out there had been an earlier race, but we arrived in plenty of time for the final race.
The site was about ten kilometres out of town, a bumpy dusty ride with gorgeous views of green rolling hills and a two-car-one-big-lorry crash scene. It's perhaps worth mentioning that as a rule Mongolian driving isn't so much crazy as very untidy -- lanes mean little or nothing, and cars will pull out to overtake on a whim. If a bus finds the road a bit crowded in the city, it'll pull into a gas station to try a different road, then turn back onto the first when the second is just as bad. As we arrived at the horse racing site, all the other cars churned up the dust so much that visibility was down to 15-20 metres on the track, and there was a lot of dodging going on. Other wiser cars just drove on the grass, of which there was a lot.
We grabbed some bleachers and watched the start of a race -- a little disappointing as it started a kilometre or so in the distance. But there were hundreds of horses which we did see riding a few at a time from near us (perhaps being registered there) to the start line. Their riders were kids. Very little kids. Toroo mentioned that the minimum age was being raised from four years old to six years old. Degi mentioned that every year some horses die on the 20km course, and some kids too.
Left: People and horses there to watch the race. Guy on left is in traditional del with one corner off his shoulder in deference to the heat.
Between the start and the finish the horses being entirely over the horizon, so after spending some time on the bleachers recovering myself in sunscreen and eating icecream, I wandered of with a few others in search of lunch. About ten minutes away was a sort of ger camp: tents serving food and alcohol in the shade. There were horses tethered to many of the tents, and a few pool tables set up here and there. I ate a couple of 'mutton pancakes' -- a pancake-type thing folded in half with small bits of mutton inside -- for the standard price of T100 apiece. After talking for a while with a couple of girls torn between the nomadic lifestyle and the idea of settling down in an organic community, we realised it must be time to be heading back.
Right: Fridge for the cold drinks, tents for cooking and eating, horses for riding, and a pool table because the Mongolians love their billiards.
We got back just in time to see a small cloud of dust on the horizon. We watched through binoculars passed back and forth as the cloud got larger. Eventually we could see the sun flashing off the windshield of the jeep leading the race. Somewhat after that we could see its headlights; then we could see four dots that were the leading horses. Not too much later the horses came in.
After this we headed back for the car. It was a little distance away, and there being nearly as few people heading in that direction with us as there were toilets, I made use of the squatting technique I'd perfected in Korean toilets, with my skirt providing handy camouflage. (I knew there was a reason I never liked trousers.) The driver leading us got slightly lost at first, but quickly caught his bearing and turned us around back to the car. Noticed a lovely butterfly that made a clicking sound as it flew -- was told it was a cricket of some kind.
Chatted about science fiction with the other guy in the car with me. He'd also invited me to go with him on a five-day trip to Kharkhorin and the white lake. I thought about it for a while -- it's close to the perfect timespan for me, and it'd be cheap with a group of people (who would already be organising tent and food and stuff to boot). But decided eventually that I don't want to spend that much time with a group of English speakers when I've enjoyed my time speaking Mongolian so much. Also I've read up on Kharkhorin as I do want to go there, and it looks like I can get there and back by minibus and stay in a guesthouse, both for minimal cost and with I think minimal fuss (language barriers aside, and that's the fun part :-) ).
Paused at the guesthouse to wash hands, then went straight back to the stadium for the finals of the wrestling, to be followed by the closing ceremony. This time I found someone else in the group to sit with, and we had fun chatting. Which was a good thing, because the wrestling (which Degi had said was much more interesting than the first rounds that started yesterday) dragged on. And on. And on.
Left: One of the pairs of wrestlers who had the decency to win/lose in a reasonable time. (One day I'll have a camera with a better zoom.)
These guys in their red open-chested vests and their sparkly blue briefs kept taking a break and chatting with the other guys on the field for longer than each bout of wrestling. Then they'd finally get back in position and go at it for another thirty seconds before another minute or two of a break. At first they were making attempts to get each other off balance; there were some exciting moments. But then they seemed to just stop trying -- they looked as if they were just leaning on each other.
Coke must have made a fortune today. I kept seeing a kid pass me with a tray full of cups of coke, and then a minute later come back with his tray empty.
After an hour and a half (at 7:30pm) Toroo came to ask if we wanted to leave. We did, though it was a shame to miss the closing ceremony. It turned out that the wrestling we'd been watching was not for first place as we'd assumed, but for third and fourth, so it could have been another hour before the closing ceremony itself got started.
Came home and veg'd in front of a Mongolian-dubbed Chinese soap opera.
On to the second week.
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