Mongolia, Lactation and the Luggage Rack, 19-20 December 2010

Having spent nearly two weeks in Mongolia, it was unfortunately time to move on as the winter had set in and there was no more exploration possible. The temperatures were on average -30c and whilst looking at the weather forecast for Beijing we got excited for the -4c temperatures. It was sad to leave Mongolia not being able to see all that it offers but unfortunately that is the risk you take when travelling through the winter months. Hopefully I will be able to come back one day in the spring and be able to explore the farther reaches of the country, especially out to the west to see the lakes and the Gobi Desert.

I was convinced by the East/West guy to take an alternative route to Beijing which would work out a lot cheaper than taking the Trans-Mongolian train. The route was to take a train from Ulan Bator to the border town of Zamiin Ude, from there I was to get a Jeep across the border into China and from Erenhot I would get on the bus to Beijing. It sounded quite convoluted and I asked the guy for reassurance and clarification on what I needed to do when I reached the border but he just replied “Follow the crowd. Don't worry about what you need to do, just worry about the people.” I shouldn't have expected a response that actually resembled something helpful!! Despite this, Christian had in fact followed the same route before me and had sent me an email saying that he managed it easily, however he didn't give me any other information. It was just one of those occasions that I just had to go for it and solve any issues when they come up. So I headed to the station to buy my £5 seat-only ticket to the border which I was later informed by the staff at the hostel would not guarantee me a seat.

Sunday morning soon arrived and along with it a massive hangover from the previous night of drinking. Caué, Cyrus and I decided that it would be good to have one last drink in a bar before I left Mongolia so we went to a local bar. The bar was a small and trendy place with a bohemian feel to it. There was a band there who apparently were quite successful in Mongolia and after our one drink turned into another, they invited us to drink some vodka with them. The difference between drinking vodka in Russia and drinking vodka in Mongolia is that the Russians like to eat after each shot and these Mongolians did not. I personally am not a big fan of straight vodka and it was quite difficult to drain the bottle with no nibbles. After the bottle was drunk, we were invited by the owner of the pub to continue drinking with them at a local club. I ignorantly ignored the fact that I needed to check out of my hostel by 10am which was only 8 hours away at that point. So we made the trek to an underground night club very close to our hostel. I never noticed it before as it was so well hidden. The club was very big and had a fair amount of locals in there. I remembered that Mr Kim had warned us about nightclubs and said that the men get very jealous and angry as the ladies pay more attention to foreigners.

Whilst in the club the owner of the bar ordered a pitcher of beer for us all which we split the cost for. Caué handed our share over the the owner so that he could pay but when the waiter showed up with the beer he turned around and angrily asked for more money from us. The owner was joining in and became very aggressive towards us and we could not make him understand that we had gave him the money for it already. The final straw was when he called Caué a liar which he did not like and became very angry. I can't remember how the whole scenario resolved itself but it did and the night continued a little scared from the ordeal. I left the club a couple of hours later and made my way across the road back to the hostel. After a climb over the fence, stumbling up the stairs and waking up the night attendant to let me in I crashed onto my bed around 5am.

The next morning was a struggle to say the least. I woke up briefly at 6am to bid farewell to June and Karin who were heading to Beijing on the early morning 'sensible' Trans-Mongolian service along with the French couple, Eric and Justine. The next time I looked at my watch through blurry eyes was just before 10am and there was no way I was going to be able to get ready and leave in time so I made the decision to stay in bed for a few more hours and pay for an extra half a day for the pleasure.

I soon got out of bed with a dizzy head and not looking forward to my long journey ahead. The train was scheduled to leave a little after 4pm which gave me enough time to grab something to eat and get to the station. An American guy whom I met the previous week returned from his regular Peace Corp training wanted to join me and I found Caué who had not yet been to sleep and dragged him along. We went to the local restaurant that we had gone to nearly every night since we had been in Mongolia and had a great big meal which provided huge relief to the hangover pangs I was suffering from.

With the meal filling the void in my stomach and a bag full of snacks and drinks for the journey, I was ready to head to the train station. Mr Kim and his son, known to me as 'The Driver', drove me to the train station which was quite far from the hostel and I was not going to attempt the walk in my state. Mr Kim was concerned that I had chose to travel seat only and had warned me about the thieves that roamed the train carriages looking for easy pickings. He told me that I should take my important things with me everywhere I went and slipped me a couple cans of Korean beer and said “You'll need these!”, which concerned me. The car pulled up on the bustling pavement and I quickly said my goodbyes and headed into the railway station.

The station is very small and it is representative of the Mongolian rail network as it only has one line from Russia and the North to Beijing and the South. I suppose with a small population like Mongolia there is not a great need for an extensive network. I found the correct platform and waited for the train to arrive. Once it did, a crowd of people descended upon the train with huge amounts of boxes, bags and crates of merchandise that were bound for China. I got on board and was shocked to see berths in the carriage as I thought it was only going to be seats. The compartments were open with four berths inside and two in the isle. My seat number appeared to be over somebodies bed and it was later confirmed to me that I would have to leave when they want to go to bed.

To begin with I was all alone but my hopes of getting an empty bed were soon dashed as I was joined by five ladies all in their forties and a young man in his twenties. None of them spoke English and I was squeezed up against the window with my lower leg burning on the hot water pipe that fed the heaters. The whole carriage filled up far beyond capacity and the train slowly moved out of the station and the modern concrete capital of Ulan Bator. The train sped up as we passed through the suburbs made up of Ger camps which are a far cry from the suburbs of London or any other capital city I've ever visited.

The encampments soon diminished and the train cut through the national park as the sun began to sink below the horizon. The lady opposite me produced soon sort of meat from her bag and offered it to me. Whatever it was tasted nice but a little tough on the gnashes. A lady passed though the carriage with a selection of items and a packet of cards were purchased by one of the ladies. The packet was opened and I was dealt a hand of cards. I had no idea what game they were playing and my pleas for assistance were ignored, the young guy sitting across from me took my cards from me and I hoped that he was going to help me, instead he placed the cards within the pack and the game continued without me. I had genuinely felt ignored for the first time on my journey but didn't have enough energy to insist on joining the game and actually preferred to just watch them enjoy themselves. I watched on with great intrigue, trying to ascertain the rules so I might have a eureka moment and be able to join in at some point in the evening. Every time I thought I had understood what was happening, something complete unexpected would happen and a cry would explode from one of them expressing their win or loss. I surrendered to the fact that I was not going to understand the game and decided to get some sleep whilst I could as I knew it might be a long uncomfortable and sleepless night ahead. I crossed my arms on the table in front of me and settled my head semi-comfortably inside one of my elbows.

I woke up intermittently over the next few hours to find that the card game was still in full swing with no signs of hiatus. My leg was still painfully avoiding the boiling hot pipe and every now and again I would feel a singeing feeling and violently jerk my leg which made me bump into the lady beside me. As I slept, I was regretting the night before and continually plotting where and how I was going to sleep tonight if all the beds were taken. After a couple hours of rest and recuperation, I sat up and retrieved a book from my bag. I was reading ' The Great Railway Bazaar' by Paul Theroux which is a recollection of his travels around the world by land. Whenever you bring out a book amongst foreigners it's bound to attract interest, especially if it's got an interesting picture on the front cover. I was surprised how quickly the ladies' attention moved from the card game onto my book. One of the ladies took hold of my book and was asking me questions in Mongolian. Luckily there is a good map in front of the book which I used to move the conversation away from the book and onto my journey and where I had been and where I was going. It's just typical though, after a long time of isolation and when I wanted to read they would not let me. I felt rude but I continued to read on for the next thirty minutes until people started going to bed. This was the moment I dreaded but the lady whose bed I was sitting on pointed towards an empty bed and I grabbed it whilst I could. I settled in and suddenly felt relaxed and thankful that the remainder of the journey, I would be asleep on a short but still horizontal bed.

After a hour or so sleeping I was woken by a short poke in the side. I opened my eyes to be greeted by a young lady saying something in Mongolian which I took for “This is my bed, sling your hook!”. I thought that it was a fair cop and removed myself from her birth to find myself bedless once again. The floor space had already been taken and so I looked to my ladies for help again. They simultaneously all pointed up to the luggage rack which hung high above two births and resembled a table that you sell your goods off at a car boot sale. I was uncertain and weary about the strength of the small brackets that kept the rack against the compartment wall. I looked around to see if there was anyone else sleeping up there and found one guy who was definitely bigger than me sleeping soundly in the compartment next to us. I took this as a satisfactory safety test and clambered up and squeezed my way onto the rack. There was only about a 50cm gap between the shelf and the ceiling of the carriage and I couldn't believe that I had made my way up there. Although it was uncomfortable, I was grateful to be lying down. I tried to get some sleep with my bag, hat and scarf acting as my pillow but it was impossible. Every time the train jerked I would slip and slide around the rack fearing that I would fall off and break my neck. I was clinging on for dear life and just hoped for the best. I couldn't wait for the journey to finish, but I knew that I still had a very long way to go when I reached the border.

A blurry vission of the carriage

Two hours of excruciating anxiety later, I was beaconed down off the luggage rack and offered a bed in the aisle from a young guy who had been asleep for the majority of the journey. Even though I had made my way up there, I really wasn't sure how I would get myself down but I did and sat down next to the guy who had explained to me he was getting off at the next stop. The man looked slightly shifty and I wasn't sure whether he wanted to rob me or was genuinely being kind. That's the problem with people telling you stories, you never know which ones are true and it makes you paranoid about everyone. During the journey my bag full of the most valuable items I have was in my hand at all times. The man told me to lay down and I soon went to sleep with him sitting by my feet.

I woke up soon after to a scene that I will never forget. The middle aged lady whom I was sitting next to early in the evening had her breast out and was expressing milk into a cup. This would not be an issue to me if she had a baby but she was alone so I thought she might have a baby at home and just needed to keeping the milk flowing. Then next thing I saw was her offering her milk around. One man in his sixties who had joined the group whilst I was asleep had taken the cup, drank the milk and returned it to the lady for a refill. The man sitting at my feet then had his go and I was dreading being offered the milk so I pretended to be asleep with one eye slightly open. I wouldn't ever want to drink an unknown lady's breast milk and I wouldn't want to turn it down either as that may be a big insult. Luckily I was never offered the milk but was left with an astonishing memory of generosity from a lady to two men unbeknown to her before the journey.

The young man who had offered me the bed started to speak to me and I was still unsure of his intentions but was shocked when he had forced two thousand Tugriks into my hand and said that I should get something to drink on him. My preconceptions were completely shot down and once again my faith in humanity was increased. The train slowly pulled into a barren station and the man stood up, said goodbye to me and left the train.

The rest of the journey I spent asleep with a whole birth to myself and I was so grateful to the unknown man for rescuing me from the perils of the luggage rack and gave me his bed.

Terelj National Park, 14 - 16 December 2010

Water splashing my face as I swiftly move through the sun drenched South China Sea.  I look behind me at the dimishing coastline of Ha Long Bay and the magical landscape rising out of the sea.  The sun was beating down and it was time to head back for a refreshing drink.  As the beautiful Vietnamese waitress took my order I was feeling like I was in paradise, but I got a strange feeling that somebody's hand was on my face, it was cold, dead and rubbery... 

My eyes opened and I was instantaniously thrust back into reality, however the hand still appeared to be on my face.  Who has their hand on my face?  I pulled my left hand from the warmth of my sleeping bag and reached for the foreign hand on my face.  I grabed hold of it only to discover that it was mine.  It was completely numb from the cold night air and I needed to get it warm, fast.  I looked around and discovered that the fire that had been raging all night filling the tent with unbearable heat had gone out subjecting us to the harsh sub-zero temperatures of Outer Mongolia. 

With me in the Ger were two Scandanavian girls, Karin from Sweden and June from Norway whom I had met the previous evening at the UB Guesthouse and had convinced me to come with them to the Terlj National Park for a couple of nights.  It didn't take much persuasion, especially after a few bottles of beer!  I could have done with a little more sleep though as we, accompanied by Caué and Cyrus, stayed up until 5am drinking and subjecting a Romanian/American/Russian/Chinese guy to the third degree.  This man of unknown name was a strange guy who had apparently been teaching English in China for a year or so and was obsessed with the differences between the East and West.  He would repeat "East is horizontal, blood on soil and West is vertical, now, now, now."  throughout his whole conversation.  He would never provide a straight answer to anything.  When I asked him one evening whether he had a good day he replied "That's a very Western question.".  He would never divulge where he was from but would say that "He is from four countries equally."  The way this man spoke reminded me of Lucky from 'Waiting for Godot', he would talk and talk for hours without breathing but couldn't actually make a point. A very interesting character indeed, he would sit there peeling and chipping potatos all day long.  The one thing he didn't hesitate to tell us was that he was once a professional tennis playing, was once on the team that beat the USSR in the Davis Cup and played with Andrew Castle at some point.  I'm not sure if this was true but I am so thankful I met this guy as he truly was a unique person and I'm sure I won't meet one quite like him.

Our Ger

After the interrogation and a couple of hours sleep, Karin, June and I got in the car and made our way out of Ulan Bator and towards the National Park.  The road to the park was paved however the wind was strong and the snow from the fields either side was drifting across the road making it difficult to see.  We arrived at the park around two hour later and headed onto dirt tracks.  The Mongolian Nomads still leave traditional lives like their ancestors did.  Some Nomadic families pack up their belongings in the winter months and leave the park for the warmth and safety of Ulan Bator as the settlements become isolated.

Our settlement was home to a family of four, Mother, Father, Son and Daughter.  They were all there apart from the daughter who had moved away to university.  As the Father greeted us and showed us inside their home to meet the Mother, my first reaction was shock.  In front of me was not what I was expecting from a nomadic life.  I was confronted with a plasma TV with DVD player, Playstation2 and a huge stereo system.  Obviously they were not completely nomadic as they had tourists in and out of their home all year round.  The Mother quickly invited us to sit down and thrust cups of tea into our hands and gave us our first meal of potatos and meat.  I was surprised that she insisted that we kept our shoes on as I thought the etiquette was to remove them and it was a great insult if you did not.  Later I felt the floor and understood why we couldn't take them off.  The floor was absolutely freezing cold as the fire burning in the middle only heated above the floor and left a 30cm freezing pocket of air from the floor.

The family had settled between three mountains which provided protection from the gale force winds that sweep across the barren land.  They had several ger tents, one for them and a couple for their guests.  Down the hill there was a long drop toilet which I could only imagine being unbearable to be around in the summer heat and a stable with horses, goats, a camel and several other species.  Our ger smaller than the family's and did not come with a TV or PS2 but the beds were comfortable and the fire pumped out a vast amount of heat.  The whole settlement was protected by a pack of dogs that roamed freely and huddled against the tents to get warm. 

The first afternoon was spent exploring the surrounding area of the camp.  I climbed one of the hills and discovered that it was a lot further than I anticipated.  Nevertheless I continued up the hill and half way was confronted with a migrating cow heading towards me, I stepped aside, stood still and waited for it to pass me by as I didn't want it to hurl me off the side that plumeted quite sharply.  The temperature was plummeting and I could feel my eyelashes freezing and my scarf becoming part of my face.  I pulled out the thermometer and noted that the mercury had disappeared well below -30c and I felt it.  Once I reached the top, or the furthest I was prepared to go, I was rewarded by the sun setting over the stunning scenery of the park.  The sun was bouncing off the bouncing off the snow capped peaks and being there on my own, I could truly understand the saying of 'Hearing Birds Fly'.  The only sound I could hear was my breathing and the sound of snow compacting beneath my feet as I moved.  I sat there for a while taking the breathtaking scenery in and suddenly realised that I needed to get back before the sun completely disappears.

I reached the bottom of the hill just as the sun disappeared fully behind the mountain casting a darkness across the wilderness of Mongolia.  I rejoined the girls back in the tent and was overwhelmed by the intense heat that was extruding from the fire in the middle.  I immediately had to take off my outer layers right down to my thermal vest.  I was interested in finding out the temperature inside the tent, so I once again produced my termometer from my pocket and the mercury slowing surpassed 0c, 10c, 20c, 30c and finally rested a little under +40c, that's an 80 degree difference with the outside world.  I was not surprised by this as I have been subjected to this temperature difference ever since St Petersburg.  They certainly have no shortage in oil or gas and make sure any indoor space is heated to the maximum which makes going in and out of underground networks unbearable.  Throughout the evening the Son would come into our tent and put more wood on the fire to keep it burning until we couldn't stand the heat any longer and asked him to stop, hence the fire eventually dying out and freezing us to the bone.

The following day we were joined by a French couple, Justine and Eric, who had travelled very much the same route as the girls and me.  The Son came into our tent and dragged us outside and toward the horses which he had saddled up and prepared us for a horse riding experience.  I have very limited experience of riding animals.  I once rode a pony years ago in Scotland on a family holiday and all I remember is continually sliding down it's neck as it went for a drink and my brother's pony gallaping off into the woods by it's own.  And last year I rode a camel in the Sahara desert which was the most painful thing ever!  I'm not entirely comfortable trusting a huge animal as it can quickly turn against you and do what it wants.  I mean look at poor Christopher Reeve, may he rest in peace!  I got on regardless and became aquanted with my new 'best friend'.  The five of us were ushered out of the family's settlement by the young boy who must have only been thirteen or fourteen at most but had quite good English and looked after us like a true champion.  I can't imagine a boy of this age in the UK being mature enough to look after guests and carry out the tasks he does.

The horse ride was absolutely amazing, although my horse decided to keep doing his own thing and not listen to the boy's instructions.  The experience of galloping through the snow covered planes and struggling to remain on the horse was second to none, I could really imagine me becomming a nomad herding livestock and travelling across the countryside.  Although it was cold and we weren't able to stay out for too long.  I would love to come back in the Spring and spend longer in the wilderness.

Later that day we collectively decided that we should attempt to climb the mountain to the East of the camp.  So we headed off a clambered our way through the snow and found a track that animals had left.  Even though the snow makes the mountains look beautiful, it also hides the animal dung that litters the trails so you have to be careful where you tred and not to fall over.  After slowly ascending through the tree, the trail reached a peak which gave us a great view of the camp from above but it also revealed another trail heading up further up the mountain.  This is where Karin and June decided that they had had enough and said that they would go back down as their smoker's lungs couldn't handle the exercise.  I accused them of having a poor excuse but they were insistant and retired back to the camp.  Justine, Eric and I continued up the mountain and found that every peak revealed another trail heading up and like a drug we became addicted to conquering the climb and strived for higher and more stunning views. 

We reached the top of the mountain and were awestruck by the astonishing view of the Terelj National park stretching out to the horizon.  The sun was low and the orange and red light tinted the breathtaking landscape that was presented in front of us.  Eric was not satisfied with the peak we had reached and managed to find a rock to climb and insisted that we joined him.  I am glad I did as the scenery changed again and the face of the mountain on the other side dropped more steeply providing us a greater sense of perspective in how far we had climbed.  The views and feeling of satisfaction I had on top of that mountain will remain ingrained in my memory for a long time.  It was hard to tear ourselves away from the peak but the sun was rapidly sinking below the horizon and even though the moon keeps the land relatively light throughout the night, we did not want to become lost in the mountains over night as there is not a mountain rescue and we would most probably lose our lives to the cold.  So we quickly descended the mountain, so quickly I am not sure my feet actually touched the ground.  Personally, I was disorientated but luckily Eric had his navigational head on and knew the way back to salvation. 

Once we reached the bottom of the mountain, we could see the father's car headlights approach us.  I was quickly bundled into the car where the girls and son were waiting for me.  We were being driven to the Turtle Rock, which aparently was famous.  The snow drift was incredible and the road completely disappeared from view.  The father continued like a true professional.  He knew the whole tracks like the back of his hand, including the pot holes that littered the road.  We arrived at the Turtle Rock, which did infact look very much like a turtle, however it was dark, windy and cold so we weren't too interested in hanging around taking photos.

Our last night was spent in the tent eating, drinking beer and some kind of spirit Eric had in his hip flask which completely destroyed my taste buds.  The father came in and shared a drink with us which was nice as they never seem to stop working.  From early in the morning they are tending to the animals and you can hear them late in the evening chopping wood and moving things around.

The next morning we were collected by the driver to take us back to Ulan Bator.  We bidded farewell and thanked the family who had looked after us with excellent hospitality over three days we were there.  Our smooth and easy journey back to the UB Guesthouse was interuppted by the traffic police who seem to pull anyone they like over to check their details.  I honestly think this is a great idea, but the locals think it's an invasion on their liberty and absolutely hate the traffic cops.