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Estonian interlude

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

Where is Estonia? you might well ask. Just as NZ is frequently confused with Australia, so Estonia is coupled with Sweden, Finland and ‘all those funny little Baltic countries’

Well we have ended up in this country for a few days – and we are really enjoying it. Population is just 1.3 million and even though the country is tiny, it has one of the lowest population densities in the world. We are staying at a ‘Drop-in centre’ in the capital, Tallinn.

This town is clean, neat and tidy and has excellent bus and trolley-bus services. It also has a fascinating Old Town center which dates back to the 14th century. It’s fascinating to see buildings this old, not preserved in a museum setting, but in daily, normal use as shops and commercial premises.

The Old Town has a real charm and character, and despite a temperature which has been hovering around the 5C with a strong cold wind, we have spent a bunch of time exploring its narrow streets and interesting architecture

    

Today a few of us went back to check out a glass-blowing  studio and we were treated to a display of an artist creating a beautiful goblet. The process was not a quick show for the tourists but we saw a serious artist at work, creating a thing of beauty, It was well worth the 4km walk in the bitter wind!

The place we are staying is really another story of its own. This is a ‘Community Centre” fully approved by the town council and recipient of all sorts of grants from various EU bodies. It is run by a group of young Estonian Idealists (“Greenies’ to the core) and they say they have the active support of the neighbourhood.

All sorts of people drop in here (including 11 Kiwis) and they are an interesting assortment. There are Australians and a variety of Estonians and other Europeans. The other day we met a Rip-van-Winkle character with a beard that put Jamie Nicholls’ to shame. He claimed (to the children) to be Santa’s Helper but in conversation with him, it became evident that he moved in fairly exalted political circles and was passionately involved in promoting Conservation and National Cleanup days, to beautify the land. It seems he is in demand as a speaker in various countries. He looked like a Swagman, with his bundle of belongings over his shoulder, but he was a man of impressive intellect. However we were not too swayed by his philosophies which included being everywhere while he was asleep and being able to commune with others just by our thoughts!)

This place is bizarre! In the back yard is an Indian Tepee; in the cellar a group are running a bicycle repair business; inside, the walls are peeling and un-papered, but hanging on them are some excellent photographic prints (an exhibition is in progress we are told) When we cooked dinner the other evening (as is the norm in a Couch-surfing place) people came out of the woodwork from all directions and I counted at least 22 bodies loading up their plates!

The building is wood and must be over 100 years old.  It has a cellar, two floors and a huge attic which we are occupying. They threw down sheets of particle board on the day we arrived, and then came up with a pile of mattresses which has meant that we are all very comfortable. You can see daylight through the roof and the end gables, but surprisingly it is not that cold.

It has a toilet, a shower and a washing machine, so we are certainly not complaining! Within the next week or so we hope to be living in a couple of motor homes, which should start a new era in our wanderings.

Watch this space.

St Petersburg

Saturday, April 25th, 2009

The train journey from Moscow to St P was sooo different.

We have become accustomed to travelling in ‘open sleepers’ where the kids can chase up and down corridors, we can spread ourselves on the bunks for a game of cards, and where the passing passengers stop and peer in to our cabins to see what we are doing, eating or reading. But not on this elegant and very  expensive train – travelling from Moscow to St Petersburg! Travel now is much more onerous. Decorum abounds. We are all are seated quietly in our plush recliner seats. But no hot water boiler at the end of the corridor for making a cuppa, No free packets of tea/coffee/ no privacy to make a meal no all gawking together out of windows.  More like a doctors waiting room. ‘Respectable’ it was and jolly uncomfortable to boot.

We arrived 11 pm. St.P was still buzzing. The City was bustling – and very cold! Judicious use of notes , the GPS and enquiries gets us to a bus stop. We sort out fares with conductor (always a mission with 11 of us and all different ages!) and tget off at the GPS-dictated stop We soon found our hostel and wearily trudged up  3 flights of broken stairs to our dorm

Next morning a quick trip to the local ‘supermarket’ for b’fast supplies revealed a taste of the elegance this city possesses. Grand old buildings, no broken paving, everything clean and tidy – and a tangibley relaxed and cultured atmosphere. So different from Moscow.

The transition is almost complete : East says goodbye to West

So started a long day. Lots of walking and quite a bit of Underground training.

We took in a castle and a few cathedrals etc.

   

decide just as easy to walk back –past Hermitage Angel eetc

             

finally arrived back after 8-10 k walk. A good day!

cultural conundrums

Friday, April 24th, 2009

When reading the Bible, one thing that has always fascinated me is it’s sheer relevance to me and my life and times. Consider: the New Testament was written by a collection of authors, roughly 2000 years ago. They were Jews, Israelites, Arabs almost. They came from an agrarian culture of farmers and fishers. They could not have been less connected with today’s Western consumer-driven society. If you walked through the streets of a middle-eastern village today, you would still not expect to find too much in common with our world and our values. And yet the words of the NT writers and especially those of Jesus cut right through to the core of the issues of life – and they are as relevant today as they were then.

And why this somewhat philosophical opening? Well, given that there is evidently so much that is common to the human condition, how is it that cultures can end up being so very different?

The prompt for these musings comes from the differences observed in cultures as we have moved from China, into Mongolia and now into Russia. In SE Asia with its teeming millions of people, one gets accustomed to the pushing shoving and scrambling to get on buses and trains. But all is done with relative good humour, and friendly smiles abound, and other courtesies like respect for the Elderly, still prevail. The Chinese are a noisy lot of hard-working entrepreneurs – all are out to make a dollar wherever the opportunity can be found. Prices are bargained for vigorously but generally with some good humour. Generally, SE Asia is a very pleasant place to be.

So it was something of a shock to the system to get to the Mongolian capital and find ourselves surrounded by a grim-looking bunch of people who seemed to regard foreigners not only with disinterest but almost contempt. We perhaps should have had an inkling of things to come when we went through the visa application procedure. The general impression we got then was that we really were not welcome: as it stated on the Russian application form  – ‘even if you are granted this visa it is no guarantee that you will be permitted entry into Russia – you could still be prohibited entry at the border control.’ And as we went through The border checks, this attitude was confirmed, with unsmiling and humourless officials going about their business.

But it was the people on the street and on the train that gave us the  biggest jolt. One could hardly be critical of officials plodding through their duties at 2.0am  in the morning, but what could be behind  the churlish behaviour of your typical Igor, on the street?

Our first encounter with the the Mongolians was with our first Ger host – the Computer-expert/librarian in Ulaan Bataar. He was warm, friendly, humourous and thoughtful. His wife was likewise, and his children were intelligent  and well-behaved. But what a shock when we were taken to the local market in Ulaanbaatar.  I should explain that the market comprised a large open area filled with ‘stalls’ selling everything from plastic ware to builders supplies, used industrial equipment, clothing, leather jackets, boots, electric motors, rolls of linoleum and anything else you could think of. All stalls were minded by individuals who looked completely disinterested in the selling process! Alongside the open area was a large scruffy, 2-story warehouse- type building which was the Mongolian equivalent of a supermarket. This housed many tiny kiosk-type shops – some only just big enough to accommodate the proprietor and the meager stock in the kiosk. The kiosks specialised to a degree and the fresh goods such as fruit and veggies and meat were well apart from the dry goods areas. There was a god selection of produce. So far so good. Goods were available and reasonably priced.

The surprises came from two quarters : first the attitude of the store owners and secondly the behaviour of other customers like ourselves.

Imagine standing at the counter of a shop; the owner is busy unpacking a carton of chewing gum and arranging the packets in a display tray. You can see the pots of jam on the back shelf and wait to catch the shop-owner’s attention so that you can indicate what you want to buy. The owner continues to re-arrange the chewing gum. Having done that she then opens up a fresh carton of some other product. You are only 1/2 metre away from her, but she evidently still is too busy to see you. Suddenly you are shoved aside by a new arrival: a new customer who immediately tells the owner what she wants: thrusts some money at her and shoulders herself away. Before you can now attract the owners attention. you are more or less buried by two new customers who both start dealing with the owner at the same time. One is making a bulk purchase of noodles and requires some emptying of cartons to help her contain the purchases – the other is having a lengthy conversation about who knows what? Finally they go. You have been at the counter for 10 mins now and in desperation you make noises – any sort of a noise – to indicate that you want something to happen. Reluctantly the owner finally looks at you  and you start your purchasing by sign language. The jam is successfully obtained and now you want to get something else. As you start to indicate your next requirement, the same process starts again: you are shouldered aside by new customers who completely ignore the fact that you are in the process of being served and start their business with the owner. The owner appears quite unperturbed by this process: one can only assume that it is the normal way of doing business.

On the streets of Ulaan Bataar and in the corridors of the train coming through to Russia, we find this same belligerent ‘out of my way’ attitude. People make no attempt to adapt to the flow of bodies on the footpath or in the corridors: they simply barge on, with a square-shouldered confrontation to all approaching bodies. You do well to get out of their way or suffer the indignity of being bounced into touch.

We experienced the  same ‘shopping style’ at the little kiosks on the rail platforms here in Russia. Firstly you had to get past the owner into the kiosk: many seemed to just stand in the doorway to block you getting in. Not a welcome smile, not a shifting of the body to let you in. So you move on to the next kiosk. Ah, here you can squeeze in – there is room for at least 3 people in the confines of this tiny cabin. Just as you are about to make your purchase, two new customers force their way past you and start up negotiations with the kiosk lady, who happily leaves us in mid-air and serves the new customers.

So that is the way of things in this part of the world. What puzzles me is  how and why these differences occur.

Another interesting cultural difference is the almost universal acceptance of corruption and dishonesty. I seem to recall an Indian saying to me once that honesty was only important within the family – there was nothing wrong with lying and deceiving other people: every one just had to be aware of the way things worked.

We have learned that this train we are on is basically a travelling market. Most ‘passengers’ on the train have bucket-loads of things to sell. They have struggled onto the train loaded with sausages, shirts, shoes, blankets, T-shirts, skirts, and dresses etc. At every station they barge their way onto the platform or hang their wares out of the train windows. Waiting on the platform and rail-tracks are hordes of people eager to see what is up for sale. Trading is brisk, sales seem to be good. The fact is though, it is all apparently illegal: as we near Moscow, uniformed people are more and more in evidence, and when they are around, trading ceases. One of the strangest things has been the conduct of our Carriage Attendant. She has been very helpful and early in the journey she got us some very nice acrylic blankets to supplement the rough woolen blankets we already have. The bizarre thing is that at each stop she has been selling off these blankets to the waiting public! What we don’t know is this: is she selling off Railways property or did she lend us some of her own stock, out of sheer generosity, or were we being used as a handy storage facility to avoid duty payments as we went through Customs?? The fact is, you end up getting a little cynical about things in general. And what would that do to your World View if you grew up knowing no  other way?

In a few hours we will be in Moscow and it is going to be very interesting to observe the prevailing culture in the nerve-centre of Russia.

Later…… well Moscow is different again. We have been living with a delightful, warm and generous family. They have smothered us with their hospitality. But out on the streets the atmosphere is different. Russian Officialdom still likes to wield its power, and the paranoia they suffer from still is very evident. Police and military are ever-present, keeping a watchful eye on everybody. Maybe we should not have been there on Lenin’s birthday!

But – the conundrums remain

a quick canter around Moscow

Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009

We were only going to be here for 2 nights and we did not expect to see too much of the Russian Capital. How wrong can you be?  We arrived at about 3.30pm – skies were overcast, the temperature was struggling to get above zero and the wind wasa blowing strongly. It was freezing! Fortunately we were met by a delightful couple with their 3 children and – most importantly- a van!

    

Our packs were quickly stowed into the van, and I would like to say  that we were whisked away to their apartment. But ‘twas not to be – first we had to purchase rail tickets for our next leg to St Petersburg. This turned out to be incredibly difficult and frustrating. I haven’t the time or patience to tell you all about it: suffice to say that the procedure took over an hour; they would only sell 8 tickets from one booth, they got all our passports tangled up and we ended up paying full fare for everyone and at least 4 times as much as we had budgeted for. After that the van drove off with our stuff, and we went for our first trip on the Moscow Metro. The most elaborate Underground system ever! You felt like you were raiding somebody’s Crypt. Efficient, decorative and very noisy.

After 40 mins or so we emerged above ground to be greeted with light horizontal snow. It was still cold! And walked to the apartment – the usual ugly soviet concrete block with crumbling exterior and dungeon-like interior. But the apartment itself, though tiny, was warm and inviting.We were quickly at home, and digging into large bowls of steaming soup!

We thought we would get an early night after spending the previous 4 on a train, but our hosts had other ideas and insisted on taking us to walk around Moscow’s Exhibition Centre. We got there about 8.pm and did not get home until late. needless to say we froze ourselves stiff!

            

After a hearty breakfast the next morning we thought we could take a quick look at Red Square and  get the kids home for a nap. But no… We got to the Square around midday then started a long trek to see the Kremlin,

    

Ivan the Terrible’s castle,

 

Red sq the changing of the guard,

 

a few cathedrals, the State Department store

 

 and a mall where we found some food. Then on again for a walk alongside the river and a look for more cathedrals. We walked ourselves to a standstill. Then another trip on the Metro to get home

a wintry blast

Sunday, April 19th, 2009

here at the Anak Ranch we have been enjoying idyllic Spring weather:  bright blue skies, tiny wisps of  occasional cloud and warm, warm sun. The breeze has been light or non-existent, It has been beautiful. Crisp in the morning and evening but comfortably warm during the day. As I said-idyllic.

When we were at the second Ger in UB we experienced a brief but fierce sandstorm. This in a way prepared us for the storm we had at the Ranch today. At one moment farm activities were going on as normal and in the next instant we noticed a sudden scurrying activity around the  place. Looking over in the distance we noticed that ominous grey/black clouds hugged the ground, and there was a sudden stirring of the breeze. Sandstorm coming! Almost before we had registered the fact, the wind was starting to howl: eyes,ears, throat and hair were suddenly filled with choking dust. But the real concern was for the stability of the gers. The heavy calico sheath which holds the thick felt walls and roof-cladding in place, can act like a sail in fierce winds. The sheath can lift and shift out of position, so the race was on to ensure that all the tie-down lashings were  doing their job and holding things in place. One of the significant dangers is the likelihood of the covering moving into contact with the steel flue from the fire, which sticks up through the centre of the roof. So there was much heaving tugging and re-tying of the lashings – all done in the blinding choking sandstorm, and with temperatures dropping rapidly.

And this was no 2-minute wonder. Ties storm raged and howled around us for several hours; everything shaking and rattling as if to send the ger into a flying bundle of cloth felt and matchwood. But the gers held firm. unfortunately the wind was too much for the power lines feeding this area, and  suddenly we were pitched into total darkness as power poles toppled over.

So we finished our dinner by candle-light, with the  storm continuing to batter us. Nothing to do but get to bed a bit early. We noted, as we took our late-night trip  to the deny that there was sleet in the wind, mixing with the sand. So still no romantic snow fall for the kids!

By the way, the ger was rendered safe by some swift action from the local staff. Two of them entered, carrying a pickle-jar full of water and some string. Wordlessly they put a stool on top of our table and the tallest reached up and tied the jar of water to an eyelet set in the top frame of the ger. Then they departed. We speculated on this at some length. Maybe it was a fire-extinguisher – if the ger collapsed, the jar would crash and break on top  of the firebox; maybe it was a steadying weight, but surely it was too  light? Final consensus was that it must be related to some local folklore. Enquiry in the morning confirmed our speculation: this is a traditional safety measure. Since water is heavier than air, this jar of water would prevent the air from lifting our roof off!

So this was a timely reminder that Spring is not fully here, and WINTER HAS NOT COMPLETELY DONE WITH US.

Mongolia re-assessed

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

Another day, another ger, and my mind was not in a good state. Living in gers had left me feeling grubby; in need of a long hot soak in an antiseptic bath solution! Our next stay is to be at the Anak Ranch: a ranch-type setting where the accommodation is again in gers – my apprehension was intense, and my sense of anticipation was less than eager.To get to the Ranch we boarded a ‘local’ sleeper train at 9.0 pm. Paying for 2nd class tickets we found ourselves booked into third class carriages. These are the ’bare bones’ 6-to-a cabin-section sleepers designed around the midget fraternity. To add insult to injury, an attendant turned up with pairs of sheets (nice, we thought) for which we then had to pay extra. Since we were getting off further up the line at 4.0am (yes 4.0 am in the middle of the Mongolian wilderness) we said we could do without them. But no, regulations insist that we must have them, and pay for them! Fortunately a friendly Mongolian lady who could speak some English came to our aid, and we managed to sort things out. (it still cost us!) The same lady also arranged to get us some blankets, which were much appreciated as the thermometer plummeted through the night, and the train heating was turned off!

I was particularly grateful because I was doused with icy water in the early hours of the morning. How? Well I went to the toilet, as one does, and no sooner had I locked the door than an icy shower came from the ceiling, soaking me front and back almost to the waist. Leaping aside with credible agility, I looked up to see the shower continuing to descend from a vent in the ceiling. I thought initially that this must be some sort of automatic cleaning sequence rather like the Eco-toilets around Auckland. Then I reminded myself-this was Mongolia! I concluded that this was the heating vent and that the heating must have just been turned back on – the resulting air blast shifting a couple of litres of cold condensate out of the system, and all over  me. When I got back to my berth, Rob was awake and I gratefully accepted his offer of the blanket. Fortunately since the humidity in this country hovers around 20% I dried out before we had to get off the train.

We had been warned that our transfer to the ranch would be either on horseback, horse-and-cart or walking  for 20-30 mins. The prospect was a bit daunting-a walk at 4.0 am with the temp sinking a fair bit below zero, but we were prepared for it as we had been anticipating this for many months. Imagine my delight to find a car from the Ranch waiting for (some of) us! The bulk of the packs and my trusty wheeled case were transferred to the car’s cavernous boot &back seats. Rach, ER2 and I climbed in beside the driver, leaving the rest to be led off into the dusty blackness. The air was decidedly nippy and we were glad not to have to ‘enjoy the experience’ We rumbled and jiggled our way for 20 mins in the car, in total blackness, the way ahead appearing as a well-worn, undulating  cattle track, snaking its way through the darkness. Arriving in total darkness, the driver cleared us and the packs out of the car, and silently disappeared. We thought of the pioneer party back at the railway station. In our minds, a 20 min drive equated to at least an hour’s walk for them! Someone appeared from out of the darkness and led us out of the frosty night into a ger with a blast furnace roaring inside. It must have been close to 40C in there. By the time we had sorted out where the packs were to go and who was likely to sleep where, the remainder of our group came trouping in, having been collected by our trusty driver.

So much for our horse-back ride in the night! We were quickly learning that our Host was quite a character with an impish sense of humour. He was larger than life, but we were to discover that this man and his Mongolian wife have carved out an impressive facility by dint of hard work and entrepreneurial flair. Flippant on the surface he was, but a shrewd hard worker lurked beneath. Rachael has described our early encounters with this man, as he terrorised and then charmed the kids back at our hostel in Ulaanbaatar

But back to the re-assessment. Here the gers (we have 2 of them) are virtually identical with our two previous encounters, but they look and  feel much more at home. As with all  Mongolian ‘houses’, they sit in a fenced enclosure, but here there are 4 or 5 gers in the enclosure, and over the back fence is the majestic sweep of the  ‘Steppe’(?) leading across to  the mountains.

Here the gers look and ‘feel’ right, and we are all loving being here.The kids are having the time of their lives, getting involved with the animals on this ranch. The ranch is not remotely ‘touristy’. They aim to give you a taste of life as they live it themselves –if you don’t like it then that would be just too bad. The gers are situated next to  what is the ranch ‘corral’ set-up.

They have an interesting assortment of animals on the ranch: goats and sheep of Mongolian variety, all with new kids. Also cattle and young calves and  selection of nags, working horses, which the children are getting more and more confident in riding. They have been helping to feed the young animals, milk the cows and shovel endless mountains of cow manure – and loving every minute of it.

 

The older ones have also taken a  keen interest in the cooking and have been assisting and learning a lot about  Mongolian food. We are really enjoying the copious amounts of fresh boiled milk straight from the cows, pl;us the yoghurt and cheese.After a period of travelling almost constantly they are loving being anchored in one place and having the space to really let their energy loose.

All our meals are provide and usually the Owner comes into our ger and shares the meal with us – sitting comfortably on the floor and entertaining us all with his endless tales of adventures in various parts of the world. You would hardly call him a steadying influence on the children: his language is colourful and his stories of encounters with other people leave the kids chortling with ‘illegal’  glee.

We are the only guests at the ranch at this time. This is the ‘off’ season – most people preferring to come when Spring has really greened the countryside and before the intense heat of the summer makes life uncomfortable again. This is a harsh environment. Temperatures drop to –40C in the winter and can hit +40C in the summer. Rain comes at the end of spring and into summer, and then switches off for the year. They don’t get pretty-postcard snow here-soft flakes floating gently down to cloak the countryside with its magic. Here snow comes as wind-driven sleet – well and truly frozen before it reaches the ground. There the wind sweeps it into frozen drifts of unyielding ice. Not too pleasant. The humidity is incredibly low – usually around 20% The air dries out your skin, your nose and your throat and leaves your body full of static electricity: when you walk close to Tgirl4’s fine blond tresses – they stream out to you like a golden spider’s web. Yesreday we had a beautiful summer’s day and everyone was running around in summer tops. Today the skies were leaden and the wind was like a knife. Sleet was in the air and most laid low in the ger until the sun broke through this afternoon. It was still cold – but the kids were anxious to hone their horse-riding skills!

In short, we are having a ball. This family is now certain they have to have a farm when they get back to NZ. THey love the animals, they love horses, in fact Kgirl10 has decided horses are even better than cooking or dolls We will be quite sad to leave this remote but beautiful corner of our world. But but we have more adventures ahead, so that softens the parting pangs

          

Home, home on the range……

Saturday, April 18th, 2009

Here are on the Anak Ranch we are getting a bit closer to living as the early pioneers must have lived. True – we get served our 3 meals a day (albeit usually in a bucket!) which some other kind sole has cooked for us, and we do get to sleep in a Ger- which in fact would not be too much different from a covered wagon. We are so accustomed to sleeping on hard board beds that the occasional wire-wove springy base is quite uncomfortable. A hard base under a sleeping bag and a rolled up jacket for a pillow is our norm – not too unlike  a bed-roll and a saddle for a pillow!

At the gers we are quite accustomed to the ‘long drop’ toilet – and the middle of the night walk to it is none too pleasant with the temperature diving to somewhere below zero. If it is windy (not too often) the wind-chill factor around the exposed tail ensures that you do not linger about the task.

All the kids had a bath (a loose term in the circumstances) in a small tin bath which they found on the ranch. Usually we wash down with the aid of a basin of water so the bath was something of a luxury. Standing room only but at least they could wash themselves down without losing any precious water!

Water is stored in our ger in an old milk-churn, and each day a couple of us wheel it around the corral fences  in an old hand barrow to the hand-pump in the cattle yard. The water comes from a deep bore and has to be coaxed to the surface by vigorous use of a hand pump (which has to be primed before it will do the job)  So again we are learning of the precious value of hard-won water-just as the pioneers would have done.

This evening we had a major clothes washing session using the tin bath once more. We were in fact washing all our jackets, which. were getting in a frightful state. The reason for condition of our jackets was a mixture of much horse riding and the constant dusty Mongolian atmosphere. The dust is so fine it penetrates into everything and just loves our  polar-fleece jackets. The horses are a motley bunch of long-haired Mongolian nags.

As far as we can tell, these horses are never groomed. They do a day’s work and are then stuck into a corral to fend for themselves. Their long hair sheds itself over everything and in this dry atmosphere our polar fleece becomes charged with static electricity. The hair practically flies from horse to jacket and at the end of today’s adventures, our jackets looked more horse hair than polar fleece!

Which brings me to our other pioneer-like experience for the day. Today we went horse-trekking. We had a horse-drawn cart, plus three horses plus another mounted Mongolian ‘minder’ who led the  way and set the pace.

 

A variety of people rode the three horses, either solo or sometimes two or three up. The rest sat on the flat top of the cart being jarred, jangled and jolted unmercifully as we made our way across the  ragged surface of the plain. We trekked across this vast, seemingly limitless Mongolian landscape,slowly making our way up into the low mountains surrounding the plains we are on.

      

The cart could not make it up the steep slopes leading to the top so many of us walked.

 

The lucky ones stayed on horseback and arrived at the top quite fresh. The rest of us laboured on up in varying degrees of weariness. The view and the sense of accomplishment made it all worth while.

 

 As is normal  in our daily activities, something notable, often amusing, occurred on our trek.The first was not actually amusing: Rach was riding one of the horses and Lboy8 was transferred from cart to the back of the horse, for a change of scenery.  We have had the situation in the yard where 5 littlies sat astride one horse, quite safely. But this was another horse- one that objected to another passenger on the back. The horse did a couple of quick spins on the spot, the force of which launched Lboy8 into space. Naturally he grabbed something to stop the fall. In this case it  was Mama who was trying valiantly to steady the horse down. Her  efforts came to an abrupt end when she was dragged out of the saddle by the boy. Worse was to follow because Mama’s boot refused to release from the stirrup. So the horse took off, dragging Mamma alongside and leaving one shaken and wailing boy in its wake. The victims were duly cheched out and fortunately found to  have suffered no serious damage. Bruises and abrasions were the main points of pain. To their credit, Mama,a re-mounted and after a short while Lboy8 was back on horseback. The other, more amusing incident involved me. (why is it that I seem to be the butt of so many jokes?) I was on the cart, which was negotiating some really bumpy tussocky ground. As the cart leaped up and down I got propelled upward and outward, being ejected from the cart deck, fortunately landing at the run. The rest of the trek was without incident and we all quite memorable day.

another day – another Ger

Thursday, April 16th, 2009

I have to confess   – life in a Ger is not for me.

Let’s try to find the positives: you get to live with the indigenous people. Certainly the family in the first Ger were nothing short of inspirational. The family in this (2nd) Ger are different – and do not rate in the ‘positives’. Then there is the locality – there is the outlook across the wide Mongolian plains, At this time of the year they are just recovering from winter’s icy blasting. Grass is short brown and shriveled – if it exists at all. This terrain may look beautiful under snow, or when the grass is shooting up in all it’s greenery. Right now the outlook is bleak, barren and lifeless. Not really a positive.

What about the amenities? Well in the first Ger, from your enforced crouch position in the ‘dunny’ you could see a glimpse of the rolling hills in the distance. There is no enforced squat in this dunny – it is just an open shed-like extension off the end of the decrepit wooden building the owners call home. The view is unobstructed as the dunny is doorless  – an open vista spreads before you. The malodorous gathering heap beneath your teetering tail does not bear inspection – but you have to check in case some beast is lurking down there to drag you in. No, sorry – not a positive. Ahh but I was too hasty in my judgment. We have since discovered two very civilised sit-down dunnies in a very tidy shed – complete with lights . So that was a positive.

What about a shower to freshen up? H’m well of course you don’t find piped water in a Ger and in this one there is no hint of a jar of water in sight. One hopes there will be a basin in the adjoining house.

We have just dragged out all the squabs and duvets and beaten the daylights out of them to remove as much of the Gobi as we can, and we do have ‘beds’ to sleep on. So we should get some sleep. This Ger is obviously built a lot lighter than our previous one: a Susuki vs a Volvo. You can tell by the way this one shakes rattles and rolls in the wind, that this one does not have the layers of felt cocooning you from the elements raging outside. Our hostess told us that tomorrow they are taking one of the two gers down. From the look of things as I write, maybe the one we are in may beat them to it!

Our hostess is a German lady who has apparently lived here for the past 9 years. She has a Mongolian husband and (I think) 2 children. She is something of an oddity, as I guess you would expect. Living in a Ger with a Mongolian husband is not the norm for the average Fraulein. She is what we would call a ‘hard case’ having a brusque but friendly-enough disposition; a colourful vocabulary and a liking for a cigarette in her mouth most of the time,  The husband keeps out of sight. Not being able to communicate may be rather restrictive. Sabina is clearly using this system of housing guests to supplement her income. The food Rach bought yesterday for our dinner has mysteriously shrunk to half size. the lollies she bought seem to have disappeared!

She drives a car as a ‘taxi’ to supplement her income when necessary. The Taxi service in this city is a little obscure. When someone tells you to get a taxi they mean get out on the street and just eyeball the drivers. The ones available are looking out for you and will pull over. Meters? You’ve got to be joking. Sabina’s ‘car’ has to be seen to be believed. We have all had a ride in it so we know what we are talking about. It used to be some sort of Hyundai but has long ago passed its prime. Missing door handles, (which mean only the driver can actually get out of the car un-aided)missing window winders, rear view mirror and anything else that could fall off. The brakes and clutch work with vicious, snatching  efficiency. The shock-absorbers gave up the struggle with the pot-holed roads long ago and so the ride is bone-jarring every inch of the way! Every jolt is accompanied by crashing sounds from the remains of the boot. Later inspection reveals that the wrap-around rear bumper assembly is hanging on the rest of the car by the skin of its teeth, flapping and clashing with every new jolt, and useless shock-absorbers rattle their bones in a frenzy of frustration. The steering linkage would appear to have lost all bearings and bushes as the steering wheel is wildly swung this way and that, taking up the slack to avoid pot-holes or even to maintain a straight course. A drive in this car is not for the faint-hearted – but we have survived.

Dinner has been had, and I have to report that camel-meat tastes pretty good. Blended with a delicious vegetable stew it went down very well. My thanks to J14, Rach and hostess, who seemed to be preparing it in shifts. Kyle did the washing up squatting on the floor of the kitchen in the house, and before I forget I should pass comment on the ‘welcoming’ nature of our hostess. Having abandoned the cooking process she lit up a fag and settled down to play solitaire on her battered old computer. Solitaire is usually a quiet game but this lady evidently finds loud Mongolian music helps sharpen her acuity. So with music blaring, cigarette puffing away and with back firmly to our guests, she left us to it. Not that we were looking to be entertained at all, but it was a bit strange being in the same room and being treated as if we were not there! 

Now we are all settling down to get to bed. It;s a bit off a squeeze as we have 6 cots to sleep 11 of us. Mum Dad and some kids will be ‘sardined ‘ onto 2 beds stacked together and others  top and tail. Being an old fogy I have been granted the luxury of  a cot to myself. The cots are hard planks. the padded coverings are thin so it looks like being a not too deep sleep tonight!

To add to interest, we had a bit of a sandstorm this afternoon. We have been getting accustomed to clear blue skies for weeks on end and it was something of a surprise to see the skies darken. Then the wind got up and rapidly developed into a mini-gale’ With the wind came the sand. This quickly blotted out all the surrounding scenery and all but the closest objects – filling the eyes,ears and nose very quickly. The elements were endured long enough to take a few hasty pics

    

and then I retreated to the safety of the ger. Fortunately the storm was over quite quickly, but of course the dust remains. The dust is in every thing: your nose, eyes, ears and hair, not to mention your clothing, the floor you walk on, the stool you sit on, the table you eat from and the plates you eat off. Our Hostess and family had long stopped fighting the elements and wore grimy clothes with hands and faces to match. There was no evidence of any discomfort with this situation, which I found disconcerting.

On the plus side, we did get to witness the taking-apart of a Ger – something nomadic Mongolians did on a regular basis as they shifted their herds of goats and yaks to new pastures. The process was surprisingly speedy and relatively simple, as the accompanying photo-essay will reveal.

   

  

 

     

  

What the pics do not reveal is the clouds of dust which accompanied every new layer peeled off the unit! It took something like 3 hrs to pull the whole thing apart, and apparently it should go back up almost as quickly. Not bad for a finished, livable house.

Our next move is to a Ranch, where we shall be living in a couple of gers for a week. At this stage I am fervently hoping that things will be better than this last!

Fire,fire, burning bright…….

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

Firelighting – Mongolia style. Learned a new lesson this morning.

The firebox in a Ger is sturdy steel box, about 400mm square and 300 mm deep: a drop-down opening at the front and a series of removable rings on the top for easy ‘stoking’ access. The chimney is a 150mm pipe that goes up through the roof of the ger at its apex.

I tried lighting a fire in this box last evening. I scratched up some paper and carefully laid the kindling on top, intending to add some coal when the wood was well ablaze.  Futile hope! The paper burned half-heartedly and failed to do anything to the kindling. This morning Martin’s wife called in and observed that it was  a bit cold. ‘why don’t you light the fire?’ I told her that we did not have any paper to light it. ‘Paper?’ she looked puzzled. What would you need paper for? Where is the candle?’

 

 Now what would you want a candle for – it wasn’t dark! Ah, all was shortly revealed. She broke up a few sticks of kindling – producing some pieces with splintered ends. These she stacked  carefully at the mouth of the fire-box. Then she lit the candle and held the flame under the splintered ends of the kindling. Quickly the kindling was ablaze and shortly after that she added coal to the back of the fire, via the top loading access rings. The whole procedure took just a couple of minutes. To complete the lesson she then stacked the remaining kindling criss-cross fashion under the rear of the firebox to ensure a speedy drying process. It was a very educational interlude.

NZ’s OSH would have a fit if they had to inspect a Ger. A firebox sitting in the middle of the room – sometimes but not always sitting on a plinth of bricks. The flue which which gets blisteringly hot, is quite unprotected and pokes up through a hole in a wooden panel in the ‘roof’.

There is only one small door into the ger.

 

There is no provision for an emergency/alternate exit. A  fire in one of these things would be quite catastrophic. Everything in it is tinder-dry so I imagine they would go up in flames very quickly. However, this same design has been used for centuries and no one seems worried to issue safety precautions of any kind, so I guess the safety record must be reasonable. 

birthday bash in the back of beyond

Monday, April 13th, 2009

this was a special day at the ranch: Egirl4 became Egirl5. Our hosts have become very familiar with this family and so they had become aware, several days ago, that this birthday was coming up. I think they had all been resigned to the possibility that this birthday was to be cakeless. In all their travels up to this point they had been able to get some sort of cake for the birthdays which in this family of 10, occur at regular intervals throughout te year.

But as chance would have it, two problems  occurred yesterday whjch requiired that our host would have to take a 40km trip to the settlement of Darkhan: one to get some drive pulleys for a gang-saw he is cobbling together. and the other to try and find a replacement  power-pack for Rob’s lap-top which blew up the other day.

So Rob and Host drove off and disappeared for most of the day. They found the pulley, but had to get someone to re-machine it to size. Rob had no luck in his search for a power pack BUT they did come across a bakery with a fantastic cake! So this morning Tgirl5 was delighted to find that she had a cake after all.

   

The rest of the day has been very quiet