We arrived in Ulaanbataar this morning after a fairly long journey across the border. In absolute terms, we only came 1000km from Irkutsk. But it took... a while. This was mainly because once we arrived in Naushki, the Russian border town, nothing happened for four hours. We've both crossed many a border on trains before, and usually the border guards are on you so fast you can't blink so that they can be sure that you aren't getting up to any trouble. Our guidebook said that after our passports had been taken, we would be free to wander around. But since everyone seemed to be milling about, and no one came to take our passports, I finally set out in search of a snack or something to drink. (We hadn't forgotten that it was the 4th of July, so we needed an ice cream treat and a toast against imperialism of all kinds.) The farmer's market across the street that we had been promised contained one bunch of dill. Yes, one bunch of dill. This was in contrast to the delightful market we had visited in Irkutsk, which, while low on variety, had delicious tomatoes, radishes, dill, arugula (or something similar), spring onions, and those wonderful homemade cucumber pickles that are simply my favorite thing EVER about Russia. Our salads on the train were amazing, as you can imagine, and occasioned much interest from everyone else who was wandering up and down the corridor eating ramen. But in Naushki we ended up with ramen as well.
We'd been happily surprised to find ourselves alone in the compartment the night before, and since we appeared to be in second class, had pretty much decided that maybe we had paid to have the compartment to ourselves (since that would explain the price--I thought I had indicated to the agency that we didn't want to do that, but that hasn't been the first difficulty). But at Naushki, just as we had fallen asleep for a nap, two Mongolian women and a child wandered in. Oh well. We sat there, and sat there, and sat there. We'd been warned that the process could take up to 12 hours on the Russian side, so we weren't really impatient, but it was HOT. Then there was a thunderstorm. Then it got hot again. I was reading Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which is wildly entertaining but does show Gibbon up to be a bit of an ass.
Finally the guards came and took away our passports. Then they checked our customs forms. No need to go on about the tedious process, or how it was repeated (although rather more speedily) on the Mongolian side. Time spent: 9 1/2 hours. Given the stories we'd been hearing, we probably got off easily. As soon as we got our passports back on the Mongolian side, the two women and the child disappeared, so they had apparently just crashed our compartment for seven or so hours. As usual, the language barrier prevented our discovering this.
As soon as we crossed into Mongolia, the landscape started to change into more rolling grasslands with sharply etched hills. The countryside was dotted with gers surrounded by grazing cattle and horses. About 25% of Mongolians are still true nomads, while others live a semi-nomadic existence. UB has an official population of 800 000, while the unofficial count is about one million (including the "suburban" gers)--more than a third of Mongolia's population of about 2.4 million.
The city is pretty typically Soviet-built, but is clearly a happening place. We keep running into people we've seen before on the Trans-Siberian, so the full tourist rush doesn't seem to be in here yet. Our host (guesthouse and tour person) is very sweet, but totally disorganized. All the booking we thought we had done beforehand had not taken place at all, so we were lucky to snag two of the last three seats on our flights (but before, we'd been told that we couldn't return on the 10th, which is risky. We have tickets to Beijing on the morning of the 12th, and flights from the Gobi are sometimes cancelled due to wind and thus sand). We saw the fighting dinosaurs at the Museum of Natural History! We also got plane tickets to the Gobi--we head off early in the morning and return on Tuesday. The guided tour we thought we would have has become a tour simply with jeep and driver, which saves us a little money. We're trying to decide whether we should stay for (touristy) Ulaanbataar Naadam on the 11th or head into the countryside, camp Tuesday, and hunt Wednesday for a local Naadam. Any votes?
B is super-excited because he's gotten some cute Mongolian slippers. We ate a huge lunch at a Chinese place for under $15 for both of us--finally no more Russian prices. In Dalganzad, when we stock up tomorrow, things should be pretty cheap. We're paying for our driver to eat so we don't have to cook for him. Rate: 3000 TG (just under $3) per day. We'll be staying with a nomad family one night (riding a two-humped camel as a tourist must do), which should be cool since it's a little off the beaten path. Our host comes from the South Gobi herself and knows a lot of people there. The rest of the itinerary is pretty standard, but should allow for some nice hiking and perhaps a dinosaur fossil near the Flaming Cliffs? (They're probably mostly gone by now--or rather, professionals have to dig for them, but in the museum we saw a dinosaur nest filled with eggs found nearby as late as 1994.)
It's almost unreal to actually be here. It hardly seems like we can really be in Mongolia, because that is so exotic, but here we are just walking down the streets! There are a few elderly people around in traditional dress, but young people are of course totally Westernized and shop at the "Homeboy" hip-hop shop. But it is so much more relaxing than Russia. In Russia, if you don't speak Russian, you're simply a non-person. Nobody tries to understand you. Nobody wants to help--most people either ignore you or wish you'd just go away and stop bothering them. Here, people seem to be proud of their English and desirous of practicing (such as the monk we chatted with in the monastery this morning, who had only been learning English for a year. He is a student at the Buddhist university here, which offers a major in chanting, of which we heard a great deal when we were up there). Tourism is also an increasingly important source of hard currency for Mongolia, of course, so that has something to do with the difference in attitude. The country is heavily dependent on just a few sources of income. The copper mine in Erdenet supposedly consumes half--yes, HALF--the country's electricity and provides about 40% of its cash. Other income comes from gold and selling trees to China. But the government is pretty eager to keep the tourist dollar coming, and even backpackers seem welcome (increasingly unusual for Asian countries, who are sick of Westerners coming to hang around naked, get drunk/high, and leave little money behind in the local economy).
We'd been happily surprised to find ourselves alone in the compartment the night before, and since we appeared to be in second class, had pretty much decided that maybe we had paid to have the compartment to ourselves (since that would explain the price--I thought I had indicated to the agency that we didn't want to do that, but that hasn't been the first difficulty). But at Naushki, just as we had fallen asleep for a nap, two Mongolian women and a child wandered in. Oh well. We sat there, and sat there, and sat there. We'd been warned that the process could take up to 12 hours on the Russian side, so we weren't really impatient, but it was HOT. Then there was a thunderstorm. Then it got hot again. I was reading Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which is wildly entertaining but does show Gibbon up to be a bit of an ass.
Finally the guards came and took away our passports. Then they checked our customs forms. No need to go on about the tedious process, or how it was repeated (although rather more speedily) on the Mongolian side. Time spent: 9 1/2 hours. Given the stories we'd been hearing, we probably got off easily. As soon as we got our passports back on the Mongolian side, the two women and the child disappeared, so they had apparently just crashed our compartment for seven or so hours. As usual, the language barrier prevented our discovering this.
As soon as we crossed into Mongolia, the landscape started to change into more rolling grasslands with sharply etched hills. The countryside was dotted with gers surrounded by grazing cattle and horses. About 25% of Mongolians are still true nomads, while others live a semi-nomadic existence. UB has an official population of 800 000, while the unofficial count is about one million (including the "suburban" gers)--more than a third of Mongolia's population of about 2.4 million.
The city is pretty typically Soviet-built, but is clearly a happening place. We keep running into people we've seen before on the Trans-Siberian, so the full tourist rush doesn't seem to be in here yet. Our host (guesthouse and tour person) is very sweet, but totally disorganized. All the booking we thought we had done beforehand had not taken place at all, so we were lucky to snag two of the last three seats on our flights (but before, we'd been told that we couldn't return on the 10th, which is risky. We have tickets to Beijing on the morning of the 12th, and flights from the Gobi are sometimes cancelled due to wind and thus sand). We saw the fighting dinosaurs at the Museum of Natural History! We also got plane tickets to the Gobi--we head off early in the morning and return on Tuesday. The guided tour we thought we would have has become a tour simply with jeep and driver, which saves us a little money. We're trying to decide whether we should stay for (touristy) Ulaanbataar Naadam on the 11th or head into the countryside, camp Tuesday, and hunt Wednesday for a local Naadam. Any votes?
B is super-excited because he's gotten some cute Mongolian slippers. We ate a huge lunch at a Chinese place for under $15 for both of us--finally no more Russian prices. In Dalganzad, when we stock up tomorrow, things should be pretty cheap. We're paying for our driver to eat so we don't have to cook for him. Rate: 3000 TG (just under $3) per day. We'll be staying with a nomad family one night (riding a two-humped camel as a tourist must do), which should be cool since it's a little off the beaten path. Our host comes from the South Gobi herself and knows a lot of people there. The rest of the itinerary is pretty standard, but should allow for some nice hiking and perhaps a dinosaur fossil near the Flaming Cliffs? (They're probably mostly gone by now--or rather, professionals have to dig for them, but in the museum we saw a dinosaur nest filled with eggs found nearby as late as 1994.)
It's almost unreal to actually be here. It hardly seems like we can really be in Mongolia, because that is so exotic, but here we are just walking down the streets! There are a few elderly people around in traditional dress, but young people are of course totally Westernized and shop at the "Homeboy" hip-hop shop. But it is so much more relaxing than Russia. In Russia, if you don't speak Russian, you're simply a non-person. Nobody tries to understand you. Nobody wants to help--most people either ignore you or wish you'd just go away and stop bothering them. Here, people seem to be proud of their English and desirous of practicing (such as the monk we chatted with in the monastery this morning, who had only been learning English for a year. He is a student at the Buddhist university here, which offers a major in chanting, of which we heard a great deal when we were up there). Tourism is also an increasingly important source of hard currency for Mongolia, of course, so that has something to do with the difference in attitude. The country is heavily dependent on just a few sources of income. The copper mine in Erdenet supposedly consumes half--yes, HALF--the country's electricity and provides about 40% of its cash. Other income comes from gold and selling trees to China. But the government is pretty eager to keep the tourist dollar coming, and even backpackers seem welcome (increasingly unusual for Asian countries, who are sick of Westerners coming to hang around naked, get drunk/high, and leave little money behind in the local economy).
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