Three Weeks (more or less) in Mongolia

Day 8: Sunday 13th July (third day of Naadam)

According to Lonely Planet, this is the day when everyone recovers from their hangover -- nothing actually festive takes place.

So I went to meet Puujee at the department store at 10:30 so we could go to church together. The church was another fifteen minutes or so from there on foot, and as Puujee arrived late we came in late to the service, as they were singing. The words were put up on an old overhead projector, but some of the letters seemed to be a bit worn away. I got to practice my Cyrillic-reading skills, which seem to be getting better.

The sermon was read by a Korean minister, and translated into Mongolian by a woman standing to his right. (A few pews in front of us, another woman was translating this into sign language for the benefit of two men sitting next to her.) This translation is probably what stretched it into one of the longest sermons I've experienced, and not understanding more than the very occasional word of either language, I managed to doze off for a while. When I woke, I kept myself awake by sounding out a newsletter I'd been handed, which seemed to be about the temptation of Jesus in the desert.

Afterwards we wandered back southwards and ended up in the Museum of Natural History. It's an old building, with unlabelled rooms off corridors with red carpet and grey walls. The room are lit dully, and most of the displays seem old -- something in the orange-lit maps and photos, the dried plants, the beetles mounted on the walls. Most signs were in Mongolian only, but some had a little English, or Latin names for the species. Puujee kept wanting me to read this Latin to her, thinking it was the English name for the plant we were looking at.

Left: A corridor in the museum. Most weren't so decorated.

In one end of a wing were a few rooms with dinosaur skeletons. I was about to take a photo of the biggest on display when a woman seated in a corner said I wasn't allowed. A sign on the wall, as we went out, said photos were US$5 apiece. In some of the quieter rooms we waited until the coast was clear and took photos anyway. Then, as we were wandering upstairs, we came across a balcony that looked out over the same room -- and this time the woman in the corner was gone. There were a couple of women in another corner, but they didn't look as observant: I turned my camera upside down, turned on the LCD screen, and slipped it past the door to get a photo.

Right: The well-protected dinosaur. The seat in the top-right corner is temporarily deserted. Arm bones on the wall to the right are placed to look like they're clawing at you as you walk underneath.

We also visited the "Mongolian Camel is a Living Dinosaur" room. The most memorable part of that was the unexplained name, but it also had displays of camel stamps, dehydrated camel milk, and a camel bridle, as well as various camel souvenirs to buy.

Day 9: Monday 14th July

Before meeting Puujee today I went to the bank to cash a traveller's cheque (forgetting to take my passport, having left it at home since my wallet was stolen; they made me sign the back of the cheque, see a manager, and write my full name and passport number, but finally they gave me the money) and up to the third floor of the department store to buy a two-way dictionary I'd been coveting. As I waited for Puujee, a couple of people from the guesthouse came by and mentioned they were planning to buy something similar for their guide. I hope mine wasn't the last one, but it looked like it.

Puujee came with a boy friend, which made talking a bit more awkward, since when they chatted together it was too fast for me to catch a word. I still had some time to chat with Puujee alone, though.

Left: Puujee and boyfriend on the bridge over Tuul River, Bogd Khan Mountain in the background with the memorial on top.

Yesterday I'd mentioned to Puujee that I'd like to visit Bogd Khan's winter palace -- except I couldn't remember the Mongolian for 'winter palace'. She therefore thought I meant Bogd Khan Mountain. Luckily it wasn't as horrendous a hike as it might have been. Just a very long walk south of the city, and then some steps to the top of the hill. Enough to take my breath away since I'm not known for being fit (Puujee and her friend laughed as I lagged behind) but I recovered soon enough.

The hill seemed to be a war memorial. Judging by the mosaic inside it at the top, it was built during the Soviet era -- it depicted Mongolians joining the Soviet troops to trample the Japanese and German flags underfoot, etc. South of the memorial was a big pile of stones, which people walked around three times, adding more stones, blue cloth (to represent the sky) or other offerings (I saw a torn small-denomination bill, a watermelon rind, empty bottles, etc).

Right: The big pile of stones to the south of the memorial. Ulaan Baatar is a blur in the background. (It was cloudy and misty, my best picture of the city isn't less blurry.)

The mountains south were lovely in the mist, soft-looking like a painting. I think this is Bogd Khan Strictly Protected Area. Swallows swooped around. I talked some more with Puujee and mentioned my plan to go to Kharkhorin by bus for a couple of days if I could get tickets.

We came down by a different route, and Puujee and her friend found a bus for me to return on, which arrived near my apartment. I then walked into town to find the long-distance bus station -- only managed it because the street south of Peace Street is Seoul Street, and it has a pillar with a map on Seoul-style. Following that, I found the station -- then wandered past all the cafes, bars, etc trying to find the ticket office. At the ticket office I asked for a ticket for tomorrow to Kharkhorin, and was told they weren't available. The woman showed me a map to go to another bus station which she said had them. This map had no street names, so I had to memorise the configuration of the streets.

Walked all the way home without finding the right street configuration. Either I missed it (don't think so), it's beyond my apartment block (possible, but seems awfully far), the map is out of date (also possible), or it's all a cruel practical joke... My legs being tired, I decided to bet on the second, but to wait for tomorrow morning to find out for sure.

Heard on tv that the wrestling round we left an hour through, on Saturday, went on for a total of three hours.

Appear to have got a touch of sunburn (read: a red neck), presumably during the ten minutes of blue sky today. Mental note: Mongolia does not have the same UV-repelling smog as Korea, where you can't get burnt if you try.

Day 10: Tuesday 15th July

I guess this means I'm half-way through my tour of Mongolia.

Dragged myself out of bed at an ungodly hour -- it wasn't even light, and Mongolia's the place where it's not dark until half past ten at night. Packed, and at seven I went out. It was so early the lift wasn't working yet. Walked down the street to see if I could find the bus station, and if I could find it to see if I could get tickets and go. Walked for a while until I came to the market where Puujee and I had waited for her friend. Decided that was far enough and came back -- the lift was now working, it being slightly after eight.

Went back to bed and slept for far too long.

Dragged myself out of bed again and phoned Degi, who said I should try the bus station again. I did, where they laughed at me and someone tried to get me to pay T20,000 for a ride in a jeep right then. Went to the guesthouse and got Degi to phone the place -- turns out I can just turn up tomorrow morning and hop on the bus, and pay the driver. I guess they were thinking I wanted to go to Kharkhorin right then and there, though I distinctly recall saying "Margaash" (tomorrow).

That over with, I wandered town a bit and went to the Museum of Mongolian History. Especially nice because it had lots of English for all the stuff up to about the 20th century. There was a collection box approximately where English started to lack, asking for donations so they can complete their vision.

It was another one of those places where you have to pay astounding prices to take photos. So I just did my thing of waiting until everyone was out of the room, hiding behind statues, etc. Alas, finally I got careless and was caught just after snapping a shot of Genghis Khan (Zeb: "Oh, no photos? Oh, I'm sorry...") and didn't quite dare try it again, though I was entirely alone in several rooms after that. Things were getting less interesting by then, actually, although I did want a shot of the armour. That one had two curators chatting around it though.

Two photos I did get:

A rock carving of some hunters about 3000BC. I like this one because you can actually see them hunting, as opposed to some of them where they just seem to be kind of milling around.	The ceremonial costume of a Khalkh princess. I especially love the hair -- it reminds me of the padded and wooden headpieces of the women in Korea's Chosun period.

After the museum, I went to try and see Sukhbaatar Square. No luck: today it was being entirely torn up. So I stopped by the opera house to see if there were any tickets for the "Chingis Khan" opera on Saturday. They're closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. So I went south to see if I could have a look around the library. It was five pm and they were closing. So I looked for a monastery-museum that should have been behind the library. It was hidden or gone. So I ate a sandwich and drank some soda (mm, lime fanta) and took the bus home to go to the internet cafe. The internet was down. Came to my building; the lift didn't come. Luckily my apartment's only on the sixth floor and climbing uses different muscles than the ones I've been hiking with all day.

Checked the internet room later. After some waiting it worked, faster than yesterday. Coming out at 10pm I and some other guys found the doors to the shopping centre locked. Someone outside had to run and find the old man with the keys. I walked back through the playground and was approached by a man wanting me to teach his daughters English. Explained I was only here for a short time. Came home. Lift still not working.

Day 11: Wednesday 16th July

(These next two nights I was away from my computer, so the next three days rely on rough notes from my diary and email, enhanced by a surprisingly robust memory. One year has done little to diminish my recollections of anything except the reason I went to Kharkhorin: the Erdene Zuu monastery.)

Left the house at 6:50am, got to the bus station at about 7:20 and waited for the bus. And waited, and read signs, and asked drivers, and prayed I'd actually be able to find the thing. At about 7:50 some creepy guy came up to me -- he had a coin collection and spoke good English but a bit bizarre on the whole.

Finally someone in a minivan called, rescuing me from the creepy coin guy, and (in Mongolia) asked where I was going. The conversation was a little over my head, even the parts where I was speaking, and when Mongolian failed, the people in this minivan tried speaking Russian instead. This didn't help. It seemed that this wasn't the right place to get the bus I wanted, and they offered to take me to the right place. Ever trusting, I hopped in. Several minutes later I thought I'd better clarify -- were they taking me to the bus station, or all the way to Kharkhorin? Just to the bus station, they said, laughing; and they did, and dropped me off safe and sound, refusing any payment. This was the new bus station at a place called the Dragon Centre, and my bus was indeed there. It turns out I'd have found it if I'd just walked another ten/fifteen minutes after the market yesterday morning.

There were a couple of French travellers there, who said the driver was asking T9000 from them. I'd been told T7000 and said so to the driver; he claimed that was the Mongolian price, and the tourist price was more. Finally I got him to agree to T8000 since there were three of us going.

They crammed people into the minivan for another hour, until there were five in the back seat (two were kids so I guess counted as one together), four in each of the middle seats and -- not sure about the front seat as the bags were packed so high I couldn't see it. My butt was sore and my legs were cramped, and we hadn't even left yet. In the carpark some kids were selling boiled eggs, among other things; I bought a couple.

We finally got going at 9am, when the driver was satisfied that the minivan was full enough. We drove along bumpy roads, past lots of scenery. Not far outside Ulaan Baatar, people were selling skins by the side of the road. We drove some more, and saw lots of scenery. Land, hills, sky, that sort of thing. My butt continued to be sore.

Left: Scenery. Squint hard and you may see not only a telegraph pole but also the spot of white that is a ger. That's in the middle of a thin black line that is a bridge.

Finally some oil cans had the presence of mind to fall off the back of the minivan. The passengers alerted the driver to this, the minivan stopped, and everyone piled out. The driver fetched the oil, I stretched my aching gluteus maximus, and several other passengers squatted in concealing depressions to relieve other parts of their bodies.

We continued. So did the scenery. Suddenly rain fell; suddenly it stopped.

At about 2pm we stopped for lunch and a refuel. This was in a small town that simply lined the highway: two rows of restaurants and petrol stations. Somewhere behind those restaurants must have been some ger, but I didn't see any. I ate goulash. My notes are a little vague here, but I gather it consisted of mutton, "2 rice", potato, and bits of vegetables. I also have a note about "beefsteaks", but I think it was the hopeful French who tried that; I already knew (from Lonely Planet) that these were just going to be more mutton.

Right: Our lunch stop. On the other side of the road a horse was tied by a fence and someone was leaning out on a second-floor balcony. Behind those restaurants a woman was walking with several dogs following her.

We set off again -- briefly -- the petrol stations we were counting on all seemed to be closed, or out of petrol, or both. Normally the trip takes eight hours; for us it took ten.

Finally we got to the monastery of Erdene Zuu at about 7pm. I'd expected to be arriving in the town and looking around for a guesthouse Lonely Planet mentioned, but several people were there touting for tourists to join their ger camp, and I decided to go off with the first I met. US$5 per night seemed reasonable enough.

Conceived an instant dislike of the place, or discomfort at it. Still not sure why. There was one large tent for dinners and entertainment; a block of toilets and showers; and eight or so smaller tents which each contained four beds, a woodburner, and an electric light with a cord to switch it on. I got one of these tents to myself, and was very happy to be alone - just hoping it'd last.

A cryptic note in my diary informs me that "NM" is not a cheap ripoff, just cheap. I think this is an observation on the ger camp.

Took a shower and went to the dinner tent. Met a bunch of Italians over dinner (too much food, and very fatty). Very nice people. The camp owners asked us if we wanted to listen to a concert, which everyone agreed was a nice idea, but decided instead to do a bit of sight-seeing, and offered to take me along. Their driver was a Mongolian monk.

First we saw the famous 'phallic rock' (which points to a 'vaginal slope', to discourage monks -- so says the legend -- from getting excited by the slope and fraternising with local women). I do like it when people with cars take me to the places I was going to trek to with only Lonely Planet to help me. Next, a stone turtle; ditto. Saw a couple of the piles of stones with blue ribbons etc tied in -- and horse-skulls added around the base. Finally, we drove to a medical camp, which was the reason for the Italians to be here: they had a look around the camp and spoke with someone there. While the talking went on, airag was offered. Ever brave, I accepted and took a sip. Interesting, I thought. Fizzy, and kind of sweet. And kind of really really foul. Intriguing. Must try another sip, I thought. I was wrong. I tried not to be too noticeable in gagging. I didn't try a third sip.

We got back to the ger camp after dark, and discovered that the concert had been waiting for us. It was nice music, but basically the same as Tumen Ekh. On the other hand, this time I got better photos:

The top of the horsehead fiddle. This was a two-stringed trapezoid box held like a small cello on the lap.	What else to say? The stick lying beside her was at one point held in her mouth and balanced on end on the table while she held this same posture.

Bedtime. It started raining when I got to my ger. I couldn't manage to bolt the door, so gave up and climbed into one of the beds.

Day 12: Thursday 17th July

1:15am - I woke up and heard noises outside. I thought someone must be doing something to make the tent a bit more rain-resistant. As I sleepily decided that this was a good thing, someone came inside. I sleepily continued to believe that they were waterproofing the tent, and I even knew who the woman was -- until the person sat on me and turned out to be a man.

I pushed him away and attempted to demand who he was. My bad grammar got in the way of this. I got out of the bed, grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door and outside. Still couldn't bolt the damn thing and he came back in. I couldn't find the cord to turn the light on, so grabbed my torch -- this man had tucked the cord up behind the roof beams. Other than that piece of perfidy, he seemed more drunkenly bemused than anything else. But I pitilessly shone the torch in his face, murdered his language at him, got him outside again, and finally -- adrenaline aiding -- bolted the door.

Kept the torch under my pillow and shone it around a few more times before going to sleep.

9:30am - Woke up again and went out. Still raining. I walked towards Erdene Zuu, along mud-soaked paths and across mosquito-ridden fields. Was very glad to arrive and stand in shelter.

The temples were very interesting - very different from those in Korea, particularly on the inside, and in the roof carvings. The English labels were very repetitive and uninformative; even I could generally figure out that I was looking at some kind of boddhisatva. Outside, there were a number of stupas with money tucked in as offerings. It continued to rain, hard; several paths were small streams by this time. In the souvenir shop I got a bag of sheep knucklebones. Beyond the monastery, I did a bit of bargaining and got myself a bone carved into a small turtle on another turtle's back.

Blue ribbons tied on, as elsewhere; money was also left here.	People were waiting inside for the rain to let up at this point.

Walked back to the camp. Continued to get bitten by mozzies as it rained harder and harder. My ger was leaking. I stuck a bucket under the leak and went for help; they closed as much of the smokehole as possible, but couldn't do more. The roof was soaked; two of the beds were wet, and the light wouldn't work anymore. They lit a fire for me and I hung my clothes to dry. Roasted myself by the woodburner while writing.

A few hours later, I put my wet clothes back on to walk down to Kharkhorin for food. Wandered through the streets looking for the reputed internet cafe, but this was clearly not downtown. There were some cafes and houses; there was a stretch of grey corrugated iron shantytown. I continued around the block back to the cafe and ordered some soup at random from the menu. It came with what looked like a thick slice of potato floating on top. I saved that for last. But when I tried to cut it to size with my spoon, I realised from the texture that it was actually a huge lump of fatty gristle.

Left: the depressing grey suburb of Kharkhorin.

On the way back out of town, I came across the driver of the minivan that brought me down. Arranged, in broken Mongolian, for him to pick me up at the ger camp next morning at 10am, 11am, or noon to go back to Ulaan Baatar. Continued walking out of town. Came to a large puddle, stretching across the entire street. Looked at it for a moment, then mentally shrugged, hitched up my dress, and walked through it.

Mosquitoes continued, of course. By this time I had lots of red lumps all over my neck and arms and scalp. Came back to the ger camp and couldn't start my fire going. Raided bedclothes from one dry bed to add to the other dry bed. The door was swollen with rain and wouldn't shut or bolt properly again, but had no more problems this night.

Day 13: Friday 18th July

Got up, packed, went to the dining tent to wait for the minivan. And waited, and waited. A few people seemed curious to see me waiting, so I used my broken Mongolian to explain I was waiting for the minivan to Ulaan Baatar. I kept waiting, writing to pass the time. Around 1pm I started getting nervous, wondering if miscommunication had happened -- perhaps I was supposed to meet them in town after all? I'd just about decided that this must be the case, and that I'd have to go tomorrow, when they arrived at 2pm.

(My experience of Kharkhorin was, to summarise, grey and wet and gloomy. I'm not sure how much of this was to do with the weather. I didn't have any great desire to hang around in case it stopped raining. Not that I ever regretted going; it was a nice calm sort of adventure; I just felt that spending a day there was enough. There simply wasn't much to do there, and the town was depressing, and if I'm going to eat infrequently I prefer to eat my own food infrequently; at least compared to the fat-food of Mongolian cafes. Besides which, I'd had enough of mosquitoes.)

Being last into the van, I got a cushy seat in the front, by the window. Lots of room. Just one problem: there was no windowpane. It continued to rain, and I got soaked. No raincoat: I hate them. No jacket: it was summer. Finally at a stop switched seats with someone else. At some point plastic got put over the window.

The remainder of the trip is a merciful blank. There was a stop for food, and searches for open petrol stations, and a sore butt; but we got back to Ulaan Baatar at 9pm. I got a casual-taxi back to my apartment. The lift wasn't working, but the bed was.

Day 14: Saturday 19th July

Before I came I promised myself one day a week in which to do absolutely nothing; sightseeing can get too tiring otherwise. This day turned out to be such a lazy day, just because I felt like it. I went to the PC room and not much else. The lifts in the building continue not to work.

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