City of Smiles, Olgii Western Mongolia
Olgii is a city of smiles. Settled among the dark craggy peaks of the Altai, this aimag (capital) of Bayan-Olgii has a distinctly different feel to it from other Mongolian towns, and is a particularly welcome sight this morning having come from desolate Khovd.
The usual wooden and brick fenced rows have been substituted with paved streets and crumbling sidewalks. There is a small square in the center of town around which everything is accessible; post, hotels, shops, numerous banks, and the black market (bazaar in Muslim territory). In the middle of the square is an old Soviet monument honoring the cooperation of old while a statue of Lenin watches over the scene from a neighboring building.
We’ve been told by a friend in U.B. to find Juka, a recent law grad who speaks English, but she finds us first. She is a cute 22-year-old spitfire and is eager to help us out and show us around town. She helps us hire a driver for a four day mountain trip, takes us to the bazaar, and tries to help us take out money but all the banks are closed due to power outage.
It becomes apparent quickly how remote we are by the lack of utilities. Water starts up at about 3pm, electricity has been out due to wind, and the internet connection starts and stops throughout the day and Bavo has been having bad luck losing emails. Clocks around town have long since stopped ticking and no one seems in much of a hurry to change the batteries.
I’m in Olgii because I find it’s remoteness appealing and because it offers a weekly flight to Kazakhstan which sounds like a border crossing less traveled. The last errand on my list of things to do today is pay for and receive my ticket, a transaction I’m eager to get done. On our third visit to the office we finally find the guy who booked my reservation over the phone from U.B. He is either the slowest man alive or has the worst vodka hangover in history. Bavo and I suspect the latter. He stares at the flight list for a good minute as I start to peer over his shoulder. This wakes him up from his trance and he grumbles, “I know who you are!” and starts filling in my ticket. Ten minutes later he mutters “$259 dollars,” and the ticket’s mine.
We meet up with Juka later to go to the local Jalin Disco for beers and dancing. Bavo and I both make clear that we’re novices on the dancefloor, but are regular Fred Astaires compared to these Kazakhs. We dance until 11:30 when the lights come on. For a town of 20,000 we figure the 50 person turnout isn’t bad. Our first day in Olgii is good.
Tags: Eurasia: Marco Polo-in' it, Mongolia
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