World Cup Culture Convergence in Mongolia

7/2

Started my tour today in an old non air-conditioned gray Soviet van that we named Igor.  Long drive through basic flatlands.  We did see a few giant hawks, some heron-type things (cranes) and horses, goats, sheep, cows and dogs.  Mongolia has 18 times the number of farm-type animals as it does people.

Igor held eight people; Ekra, the driver, Selonga, the "guide"/cook, and six tourists; Jenny, a Korean girl, Vicky and Craig, British Doctors, Bert and Giselle, an old German couple, and myself.  At around four, we stopped at Baga gazariin chuluu, a temple that was destroyed by the Soviets in the 1930s.  It was decent, with pretty scenery, and blessedly, only one other group of tourists- even smaller than ours, and a Mongolian father and son were there.

While waiting for Selonga to make dinner, I went for a nice walk around the rocks, then went back to our ger.  A ger (known in the West as a yurt) is the traditional Mongolian home.  It's a short, round wooden structure, padded by a thick layer of wool and covered in canvas.  Usually, there is a shrine on the far wall facing you as you enter the door, though you'd trip over the stove, which is kept in the middle of the room so the chimney can exit through the circular hole on top that is generally half-covered.  The beds, or more typically, mattresses, are pressed against the walls as if from centrifugal force.  The toilet is an outhouse outside, though sometimes it's just a hole in the ground, covered with a few wooden slats to stand on while you squat.

7/3

Today was another long day of driving (350 km), though at least my lunch was excellent today (though not markedly different- more meat, vegetables and potatoes all fried together, served with rice).  We saw our first group of camels and drove to Temeen shavar (the Flaming Cliffs), which were very nice, but (and I feel a bit bad saying this), I'm starting to think I could've done an off-road trip from part of California through the Southwest and had essentially the same experience.  Trade gers for a few scattered houses or cabins and temples for churches and that's pretty much it.  Both have blue skies and vast emptiness, people herding animals, and not a whole ton in the way of culture.

I think I can go one more day without a shower before I start to feel really gross.  I'll likely have a babywipes bath tonight.  Apparently much of the area we've been passing through on our way to the desert is known as the Steppes (pronounced steps) and is basically just endless flat, slightly green plains.

After I'd written all this, at about 10:30 p.m., my germates and I noticed a lot of noise coming from our next-door neighbors.  Jenny came by and told us they were watching the world cup inside.  Vicky and I had remarked on the satellite dish upon arriving at this ger camp, which was an odd enough sight in such a remote site, but to actually see a small newish looking but black and white t.v. playing the Germany-Argentina World Cup game inside a ger in the middle of complete nothingness in Mongolia was surreal.  The bright white light illuminated the almost exclusively white faces inside, the Mongolians who actually lived in that ger (save two sitting in the very front), had abdicated their seats for the foreigners and so a Mongolian grandmother, mother, two men and a child sat watching through the door and refused stools when one of the foreigners offered to give up theirs.

It was a bizarre experience, all the more so because I was watching part of the World Cup without beer.  We later agreed that they should have charged admission and had beer available for sale and they would've made more money than they did selling the handmade woolen items (toy gers, camels, hats, purses).  It was also amazing to think that the World Cup actually reached that far and made me feel more inclined to watch it and helped me understand its relevance was real- I'd always assumed that the idea of rural people in poor countries watching the WC and the world feeling united was pure propaganda, but seeing it actually bring together people of different cultures and places was almost...well, let's not go that far- it's still soccer.

7/4

Even though this post won't actually go up until later, I still feel obligated to write a patriotic post in honor of Independence day, especially since I won't get fireworks, sparklers, a beach or a barbeque, though I might get beer.

Things the U.S. Does/Has Better Than Anywhere Else:

Movies/ Movie Theater Experience
Customer Service
Individual Rights
Road Trips
Directness
Medical Care (IF you can afford it)

Better Than Most:

Cheese
Ice Cream
Mexican Food
Quality of Higher Education (ignoring all the many problems with it)

When, that is, if, you think of Mongolia, you probably think, as I did, of vast deserts (meaning the Gobi) and little else.  Today, in the Yol Valley of the South, I saw an Ice river/ glacier.  We'd driven a few hours this morning to get there and arrived at the museum near the entrance around noon.  The museum was just a few smalls rooms, all except one filled with indigenous stuffed animals.  The other room had four  glass cases and a table in it.  Two cases contained small dinosaur bones and remnants.  One contained a partially exposed small dinosaur skeleton, remarkably preserved in a way so that you could see its basic shape still.  The last glass case contained several dinosaur eggs, some almost whole, some broken into a few (though not many) pieces.  Most interesting to me, however, was the table.  On a basic, small rectangular card table, without any covering whatsoever, were dinosaur bones.  The sign didn't say what kind, but there they were, just sitting on the table like sewing machines at a garage sale, waiting for someone to pick up and ask "How much for this one?"  The sign did say not to touch them, but I'm a rebel, so I stroked one giant dirtied-ivory colored bone, thicker than two soda cans. The part I touched was fairly solid, but most parts looked splintered, like wood while it's burning.  I did learn one thing in the museum however: Mongolia has snow leopards, though they're very, very, very rare (according to Vicky who said she watched a documentary on it, it took the BBC team three weeks to spot one and that was using the latest technology with several people, filming 24 hours a day).

Igor has not been happy with us and our poor comrade has overheated often, forcing us to get out, pour water into his engine (which is inside the car in the front seat between the driver and shotgunner, under a leather covered compartment), wait around for a while, and try again.  He made it to the parking lot for the walk out to the glacier and we had lunch Selonga had prepared that morning (over-oiled fried rice with a tiny bit of mutton inside and carrots).  It was only a 2 km walk to the ice and it was a very nice mostly-flat walk by a stream that became a river, through green grass that climbed onto hills that turned into small rocky mountains.  Most of it reminded me of the Seven Sisters near San Luis Obispo.  The ice river was rather random and seemed to just come out of nowhere so that was cool.  I slid along it a bit and watched it melt away, drip by drip.  It'll be gone by the time I put this post up.  It was pretty but mostly just impressive because it was so surprising and random, just there.  A big chunk of ice in the Gobi Desert.

While we were gone our guide Erka had taken part of Igor's engine apart in an attempt to fix it and we had to wait for about an hour and a half after we got back for him to put it back together, and it only seemed to work marginally better.

Since we were so far behind schedule, we decided to stay nearby for the night.  It was a fantastic decision as the place we found was a lovely, tiny village with a population of 50 or so.  It was the sort of country, self-sufficient area Mao probably had wet dreams about.  One interesting thing was that this tiny place had a basketball court and a basic elliptical with some other basic exercise equipment.  In Northern Asia, I've noticed that in general, they seem to pay much more attention to their youth and old.  For the young, there are many more options for things to do at night and on weekends like; video arcades (ubiquitous and larger and more extensive than in the U.S.), jimjillbangs and manga libraries/ internet cafes (again, better than those we have in the West).  For the geriatric set, I've particularly noticed that several of the parks that have areas and exercise equipment specifically set off for Seniors (I know this because they have English signs) to keep them active and encourage physical and mental activity until they die.

Anyway, it was a lovely little area.  After dinner and a walk around, I saw a group of men leaving the largest house (likely a school/ community center) who were dressed in red and blue briefs.  They got into cars and drove off.  Soon afterwards I left too and walked back to our ger camp. 

As I walked over the hill, I could see that the cars had stopped just in front of our group of five gers and that all the tourists were sitting in about a third of a circle and the men in briefs were inside the part of the circle they'd created.

My guide said they were going to do a show for us, and that it was 4,000 per person (about $3) to watch.  It looked interesting, so I said I would and sat down.  They'd already started a bit but when they started a new round, the two men would stand from about fifty feet back, then slapped the front of their thighs twice, then slapped their butts then slowly jogged over to their referee (there were always at least two).  Just before reaching their designated referee, they'd start to do this very slow movement of flapping their arms up and down, in a way that was supposed to represent a hawk.  I imagine it was supposed to seem elegant and smooth, but it just managed to look idiotic.  They'd "swoop" around their referee three times and then the referee would pat them on the shoulder and they'd go to dance circles with the other fighter.  At some point, they'd embrace and be locked in a hug for ages until one finally made some movement that knocked the other off balance.  You lost when your hands, knees or elbows touched the ground.  It wasn't very active and most of the time the wrestlers weren't really moving, which is why they had two or three fights all going on at the same time.  It seemed to be a bit of a psychological game in a way, but it also seemed that the men who looked the worst in their briefs, chubby bellies overhanging them, did the best.  It was really neat to watch, and I got a picture with them afterwards, though not a very good one.  Two of the tourist guys tried a match and one of them, who said he'd had some karate training, did okay.  The other one was flat on his back in about ten seconds.

Riding the Rails on the Trans- Siberian

6/29

At this very moment, I'm on the Trans-Mongolian train from Beijing to Ulan Bator, a branch of the most famous railroad in the world, the Trans-Siberian.  We left Beijing, a long flat city with wide streets and wound our way through mountains and gorges, similar to what you'd expect China to look like, emerging suddenly from the bottom waste into the sky, looming over you unexpectedly.  Some of the cliffs were so high that craning your neck still didn't mean you'd see the top and they were covered in a blend of the dirt, granite and dark green vegetation.

The dirt morphed several times within five minute and we saw it as sand, slate, the pinkish-mauve of dried blood, orange and browned crap.  Our pine green train, decorated with a red star and Russian letters, passed rice paddies and other agriculture, industrial cities, small towns with predominately roofless sandy-pink brick houses, long flat plains, some marred by large, deep scars, and rolling hills.

Just now, as the dirty flat earth and bland water-retaining green reflected bits of the rusty dregs of sunset, we passed into desert.  It was an okay sunset, not great- not like a California sunset or a Swiss one, but pretty enough with primary colored striations in the sky.  I love watching that moment when the very last bit of the sun disappears and it's the witching hour.

Some call that dusk or twilight or l'heure bleu, but there's something special about it that's missing at all other times.  It's a time of suspended possibilities.  The only other time I like as much is at around 3 a.m. when everyone's asleep and for a while, the world is yours.

Unfortunately, my cabinmate, who I think is really odd anyway, since she just stares at me for fairly long periods of time for no reason LIKE SHE IS RIGHT NOW, tried to interrupt.  It was also really annoying because I was obviously busy and annoyed at the two stupid, loud Australians who were standing directly in front of our door so we couldn't just watch from our compartment (and note here that all compartments have the same view so they had no reason to be in our way, they just were).

Said cabinmate is also completely pathetic, and a bitch.  There were problems with me sitting in another cabin (when it was totally legal and legitimate) and she called me slow or said I was just wrong.  Now, she's complaining about having the fan on (and it's hot) because it's too loud for her to sleep (supposedly) and hurts her eyes because apparently she's some little princess.  I told her she should have earplugs and an eyemask or take a plane.  I have no pity for pathetic losers who wallow in their own crap, nor for weakness.  Man up.  I've had to and I know it's not easy, but if you can't eventually, then you're not worth my time.

Since leaving the gorges, the scenery's been quite boring.  Currently, we're at Erlian, the Chinese/Mongolian border and we'll be waiting here for three hours while they change the wheels, since Russian trains (and Mongolian trains which were built under the Russian system) were built six inches farther apart than most other train lines in the world.  We can't get off during that time. 

Except, of course, that soon after I wrote that, we were all forced off, despite what I'd been told earlier.  We've now been here for nearly four hours (I was originally told six, then three, then two- it ended up being almost exactly four in the end) with no signs of moving and not allowed to use the bathroom for the last hour because the workers are a bunch of lazy assholes.  So I had to pee in between the cars, you know, in one of those connecting points in between, the compartments that look like accordians, while a girl watched for me.  I'd considered actually peeing on the carpet in front of the jerks who refused to unlock the bathroom for me (for absolutely no reason) but then I would've had to pee on myself and who knows what kind of trouble I could've gotten into.  It wasn't worth the risk, but damn it would've been good.

The train itself is okay and though a bit old, it's in decent shape and has Western-style toilets.  Our cabin is fine- it helps that they are enclosed and that in mine, only two of the four beds are occupied.  Unfortunately, the restaurant car has terrible food.  Not just bad, like in most of China, but I'd-almost-rather-starve-than-eat-it awful.  It's greasy, gross, oversalted (and I normally like a lot of salt) and overpriced.  On all the other trains I've been on, people have come through with carts offering different options, but on this train, they don't.  Usually, there are also carts outside of trains at the station stops with prepackaged takeaway snack food but of all our stops so far, only one has had these and the only edible thing they had was bowls of noodles- nothing resembling chips, crackers, peanuts or candy, which they almost always have.

I'm very glad I'm traveling with Steph on this journey so I have someone to talk to and play cards with, though I also brought five books to keep me occupied.  Her cabinmates, luckily, are two very decent (though one is extremely chauvinistic) Australian girls who I've enjoyed talking to.

I always think that I need a man like a turtle needs a fork, but I just now realized that I actually do.  Without a man, I have no one to open my beer for me when a bottle opener is unavailable.  I mean, I guess I'd keep the guy around for other reasons as well, but his primary purpose would be to open my beer bottles (currently 600 mL Tsing tao).  Of course, I could just get a bottle opener.  It wouldn't whine, though I suppose it does just lie around a lot.  It would never be selfish, or in fact, expect anything from me save that I continue drinking.  And it would never say or do anything unimaginably idiotic or disappoint or leave me.

But, it probably wouldn't smell nice.  It definitely couldn't kiss me.  A bottle opener, no matter how pretty, would never be as attractive as expressive eyes or strong arms and it could never surprise me and say the right thing either.

6/30

Arrived in Mongolia after waking up to discover they'd somehow changed the Chinese cafeteria-like dining car into this gorgeous wood-carved Mongolian style one.  Rather bizarrely, the landscape and weather here remind me more of the area I grew up in than anywhere else I've ever traveled.  Obviously the streets are dirtier, there are homeless people and street kids, fewer traffic lights, and gers instead of houses but otherwise, based on the way it looks, combined with the fauna and rolling hills, I could easily be in Paso Robles.  It's rather strange and keeps surprising me.

Steffi and I got off the train and said goodbye to the Aussie girls and found the sign with my name on it from a man from the guesthouse since I'd emailed and booked us in ahead and checked into UB Guesthouse. 

I got money out, but Steffi couldn't since her card wasn't working so we spent the rest of the day trying to get that fixed and trying to find a hostel we could stay in during Naadam, the largest festival in Mongolia  which runs from July 11-13 (though apparently all the activities- wrestling, archery and horse racing- finish within the first two days and the third is reserved for celebrating by drinking vodka and beer) so there's no way I'm going to miss that.  Every one we tried was booked out which was frustrating, but we stopped in a cheap bar-restaurant for dinner and had some beef goulash served with rice for dinner.  It was quite good and the meat was very tender but not super-flavorful, though I was so happy to be eating meat again, I didn't mind as much as Steffi (who's German), who told me her Dad's was better.

7/1

Steffi got her money worked out and we went to check her in for her tour.  I wasn't going on it with her since her tour sounded a little bit too hard-core for me and didn't go to the places I wanted to go.  While she did her introduction class, I shopped around for tours and had difficulty finding one that left at the right time, went the right places and cost the right amount.  I Skyped my Mom for a while but she was busy as she and my stepdad were moving out of their apartment to go live on their boat at that very moment (they left soon after I called) so we didn't talk for long.  Steffi came back and we went out for lunch, where I had something that was called barbeque but was basically goulash.  It was good though, and very cheap at 3800 turgish (about $2.65 USD). 

She went to sort out her money and I went to look for more tours.  I found a notice from a British couple at a guest house looking for more people to go on the tour with them.  They wanted to go on exactly the same tour I wanted to go on, leave ASAP, as I did, and it was the right price.  I left a note with my email that the hostel owner promised to give to them and hoped it would work.  I did laundry and then checked my emailed and they'd emailed me telling me they were going to meet at 7 p.m. to book it and to meet them there.  Steffi had sorted her money out thanks to her cute, smart brother (who I'm going to meet when I eventually visit her in Germany) so she paid me back what I'd loaned her and we went to check out another hostel for Naadam.  We finally found one, even though some things seemed odd about it, and paid for the first two nights.  I went to the meeting and we were able to organize and book the tour with six people, a guide and a driver at a rate of $32 USD per day including everything.

So tomorrow I leave on a nine day/eight night tour around Southern Mongolia, during which time I'll see the Gobi Desert, ruined temples, a waterfall, and hot springs.  We'll all sleep in gers (traditional nomadic Mongolian houses/tents), eat Mongolian food, ride camels and horses, drive for hours and hours, and get to take two showers.

Tonight, our whole group went out for Italian food at Veranda, a restaurant recommended by the Lonely Planet, which Vicky and Craig (the Brits) seem to regard as holy and virtually infallible.  The restaurant was actually very nice and my dish, penne in a gorgonzola sauce with crispy bacon bits and shredded parmesean cheese, was very good and only cost 10,000 turgish (around $7 USD).

Changing Directions

6/16

I was sitting in the front Cafe at my hostel, screwing around online when Terry, an English guy I'd met in Shanghai, came by- he was staying at a hostel right around the corner.  It was just about dinnertime so I asked if he'd already eaten, he said no and we headed out.  And immediately stopped.

Me: So, do you know anywhere good to eat around here?
Him: Ummm, not really.
Me: Well, I know of a couple of places, but I haven't had anything really extraordinary so far.
Him: We could always eat at my hostel, they have Chinese food and Western food.
Me: Hmm, I don't know.

After much more hemming and hawing, we did go to his hostel and it was actually, surprisingly good.  Not great or particularly intersting so I won't tell you about it here, but a decent "chicken cubes with peanuts" meal.  Their draft beer was 10 yuan (about $1.50 USD) for a very large glass so I had one, though I was planning on going to another Ladies Night with free drinks from 8-12 so I didn't want to have too much.  Terry, who I roped into going to a Ladies Night in Shanghai that was quite expensive, was understandably unexcited by this plan and delayed me by suggesting another pint. 

Eva, a Dutch girl who had been on the same Great Wall tour Terry had taken that day, came in and joined us and I managed to convince her to go with me to Vic's Ladies Night.  We decided to go after a game of chess.  I played Terry and lost quite pathetically (it's probably been at least five years since I last played, to be fair) and then Eva played him and lost, so I didn't feel as bad. 

Alex, a German-Russian guy who'd also gone on the tour with them, came in and we all got another beer and started to play Kings.  Eva was amazing at Never Have I Ever, which impressed me greatly.  We all got another beer.  I was very happy to be around people who truly appreciated the game.  Since we were all drinking beer, we hadn't had a center cup and had substituted something else for the King card but they inisted we use something, and long island iced teas were "only" 50 kwai.  We called a bartender over but she didn't know how to make one, even though it was on the menu.  I volunteered to help and since I couldn't remember exactly, precisely how to make a LIIT, I just took a pint glass, threw in a lot of vodka, rum, gin?, cointreau and Coke and called it one.  It wasn't god-awful but it wasn't a LIIT and it wasn't very good, but it was insanely strong and dangerous.  We finished (abandoned?) the game and Terry and I split the odd concoction.  I think that was what got me drunk and finished me.  We went outside so Alex and Eva could smoke and I acted like a loud idiot. 

Alex and Eva convinced me to go to Mongolia.  Eva told me that it was her favorite place she'd ever been (and she'd traveled quite a lot, especially considering that she was only 21,) and Alex told me he was going there next.

There are other factors, including a girl I know (not a friend exactly, but a friendly acquaintance who I'd like to see again) who lives there and is Mongolian.  The fact that Americans don't need a visa (for once- and maybe only once- it'll work to my advantage) while everyone else does.  Eva also told me that she thought it would become very touristy in a few years and I had to go now.  And that when I was doing minor research for this trip, I'd looked up Mongolia with the hopes of convincing myself to skip it since it is quite out of the way, but had just been more entranced.  And it sounds cool, and I'm afraid that if I don't go now, I never will, and there's a Mongolian girl in my room, Dirn?, who's quite nice. 

She told me a bit about Genghis Khan and how many people live in yurts (circular, tent-y houses) and always sleep with their head towards the alter inside each one (because to sleep with your feet towards it would show anger against Buddha) and their food (LOTS of meat, apparently) and their holidays.  They have Womans Day (instead of Mothers Day, which I thought was pretty awesome in of itself) on March 8th, which is a public holiday, with everything closing and everyone getting the day off work, and Mans Day on March 18th, which is not a public holiday.  I told her that I thought this was really smart because that way if the men didn't do a good enough job for Womans Day, they wouldn't get much for Mans Day, which made her laugh.

Rather sadly, she told me also that there is a huge wealth divide in Mongolia and people are either very poor or very rich with few in the middle class.  She said that the people were discouraged with their country and that there were many single mothers whose husbands had left them to go off for work but drank all their money away.  But, she also said that Mongolians were very hospitable and that it was a beautiful country.  All three million Mongolians are supposed to be descended from Genghis Khan and his family (presumably because the population was so relatively small at the time) and thus have the heart and cleverness of his wife and mother, which were apparently great.  So, if she were feeling bad about herself, for example, her mother might remind her of that, which I thought was really nice. 

One of the last things she told me was that Mongolians (and she thought this was due to their historical interactions) have a fear of the Chinese people and think they're cruel, but that after being in Beijing (she's here to get a Canadian visa as there are no Canadian embassies in Mongolia!), she thought they had very good hearts.  I thought this was particularly interesting given the Chinese girl's stereotype of the Japanese and because she told me most of this on the day I'd been to the Great Wall of China.

Lastly, regarding Mongolia planning, I'd already booked my ticket for Xi'an (where the terracotta warriors are) for Monday, and most trains to Ulaanbator leave from Beijing, so I'm planning on getting a train to Hohhot, then joining up with the Trans-Mongolian from there.