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Here lies the chronicle of my three years of travels around the world, mostly in Asia. I've got lots of stories, lots of pictures, and hopefully some useful advice you can benefit from along the way. Enjoy.

Central Mongolia, Day Four

May 2nd, 2007

We head out early for our furthest destination, White Lake, where we’ll spend two nights. It’s a slow ascent up the valley floor and we finally come to a small grove of trees near the stunning gorge of the Chuluut River, whose waters hold the rare Taimen species of salmon, weighing in at up to 50kg.

In the little village of Tariat we stop at a house where Shaga’s friends live. The couple immediately starts rooting around in their freezer which is packed to the brim with meat. We have no idea what we’re in for. Thirty minutes later they bring out a huge vat-o-meat and four knives, specifically a Swiss Army knife in my case. “This is good meat for you.” Shaga passes a huge mutton shank to Danielle. “Maybe you are hiking one, two hours after lunch so you should now too much eat.” There is enough mutton and yak meat to feed 10 of us but these portions don’t seem at all out of the ordinary to our hosts. We do the best we can but can only get halfway through the feast before turning the leftovers over to the three kids who sit on the kitchen floor and pick the bones clean. 

 
Just west of Tariat is the Volcano of Khorgo Uul, a scenic 2968m climb with a huge crater from which you can see the surrounding peaks, lava flows, eagles, and White Lake in the distance. It’s the most still, silent place I’ve been. 

 
We settle into our guest ger and are happy to have a place to ourselves for a couple days. White Lake in April is still 100% white. Danielle and I walk down to the water’s edge and manage to crack through enough ice to fill a pot to wash our socks and my hair. Brain freeze. This ger group is lively to say the least. The family has a lot of everything; goats, sheep, horses, yak, and we’re smack in the middle of all of them. I’m going to have a wicked goat’s bleat when this trip is over.
 

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Central Mongolia, Day Five

May 3rd, 2007

The three of us are officially sick of yak meat and I don’t care if I ever touch milk tea again.  Since we didn’t hire a guide we eat like the locals who follow a tried and true rotation of rice with meat, noodles with meat, and buuz (meat filled dumplings).  There is a squat toilet next to camp with the most beautiful view of the lake, but thanks to our diet of fatty meat we’re not enjoying the view as often as we would like.  It’s always nice how quickly strangers make friends when put in 24 hour contact for a week in a foreign situation.  It doesn’t take long eating this food for the jokes to turn to the bathroom variety.  We are lucky to have found each other and it’s random how the trip finally came together. 

Six days ago Danielle and I were on a search for other travelers to make our trip more affordable.  Since our guesthouse wasn’t sending out a trip we started searching other Ulaan Baatar guesthouses for solo travelers to join us.  We had no luck at Lonely Planet’s hotspot, the UB guesthouse, but Danielle managed to forget her new camel hair hat on the common room sofa.  When she went back for it I told her to bring someone back for our trip and Winslow happened to be the guy sitting on her hat.  It was fate.

 
Despite our unhappy stomachs Danielle has convinced us that bouncing around on horses all day would be a good idea.  I figure I should ride one of these little Mongolian pygmy horses at least once while I’m here.  It’s been eleven years since I’ve been on a horse and it’s only my second go at riding.  Our guide Taogwaho leads us down to the lake and out into the black craggy lava field that hides countless lava caves and sink holes, in one of which sits a pond frozen solid.  Three hours on a horse is enough to tide me over for the next ten years. 

After a while the wet wipe baths don’t cut it anymore and we’re all anxious to get the layer of dust and grime off.  Muugi number two is the family man feeding us and gives directions to the spring they drink from.  We set out over the small hill behind camp with an army of children, two of which follow us for 2km toward the forested drainage where we expect to find water.  The small boys finally turn back and we continue up and find a small stream.  The three of us stake out our respective spots and have a quick washdown and then relax in the warm afternoon sun.  Having worn the same clothes for days it is nice to strip down and check for ticks since the area is teeming with them.

On the way back Winslow and I hike up the neighboring ridge and enjoy the gorgeous view of the lake from the top.

At night Winslow and Shaga play chess and the younger kids end their camera shyness and pose for a shoot.

 

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Central Mongolia, Day Six

May 3rd, 2007

The nomads are on the move. The springtime is plagued by dusty winds and we’ve found many ger camps huddled in drainages and near rocky outcroppoings for protection. In the summer the camp moves about 5km down the lakeside and when we wake up the carts are packed up and ready to go.

From this point in the trip we’re pretty much retracing our steps back to U.B. Shaga cruises down to Tsetserleg and blows a shoe spring on the drum brakes. Being the awesome driver he is, it’s changed in 45 minutes. We get to Kharakhorum, the ancient Mongol capital with enough time to wander around its dusty streets and play some pool with the local high school kids.At night we’re treated to a Mongolian folk concert. The most traditional instrument is the Morin Khuur, a boxy two-stringed bow instrument with a horse head on top. Other instruments he use can be found in China, Korea, and Japan as well, although he claims their design can be traced back to his homeland. The most unique aspect of music here is the tonal throat singing that resonates from the lungs, mouth, and nasal cavity, creating a two-toned harmony that is both beautiful and haunting. The show is a great finish to our trip, and so is the bottle of vodka we polish off afterward.

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Central Mongolia, Day Seven

May 3rd, 2007

In 1204 Mongolia was a fractured region of warring tribes. Eight of these tribes united at this time against a vastly outnumbered leader named Temurjin at the battle of Nahu-Gun Mountain. This leader would prevail and two years later receive the title Chinggis Khaan, the uniter of the Mongol hordes and future head of the largest empire the world would ever know. In 1220 he established the capital at Kharakhorum, the town we woke up in today.

The ancient city is completely gone now. Whatever remnants that remained after the Ming Chinese sacked the city were salvaged to build the Erdene Zuu Monastery in 1586. The new town of Kharakhorum sits just to the south of the monastery and looks like any other rural Mongolian village, a series of wood fenced rows spilling out across the valley floor.
In the capital’s glory days, before Kublai Khaan established the Yuan dynasty in Beijing, the city was one of the world’s finest. Only Ankor Wat in Cambodia was more populace at the time, and most archaeologists put the population of Kharakhorum between 100,000-200,000 people. The site was rediscovered in 1948-49 and teams of German and Japanese archaeologists have been slowly excavating the site since the late 90s. They’ve made some incredible discoveries. The Mongols and Great Khaans have most often been noted for their barbarism and cruelty by Western historians. However, within the old city walls the teams have excavated a Christian church, two Mosques, and twelve Buddhist temples. These discoveries suggest a religious tolerance and sensitivity that I hope someday helps to paint the Mongols in a better light. Even Chinggis himself has only recently been credited for his skilled diplomacy and shrewd political skills. He wasn’t the madman I imagined as a child.
The monastery is the main attraction now, historically one of Asia’s most important Buddhist sanctuaries. Lining the walls are 108 stuppas that overlook four main buildings. Statues of the young, middle-aged, and old Buddha Shakyamuni (under the Bodhi tree) are housed in the three buildings and the last is the active monastery. Many of the temples were destroyed in the 1930s by the communists during Stalin’s purges and it’s only by a stroke of luck that the whole place didn’t meet the same fate. Under communist rule the walls were used to stable livestock.  I highly recommend visiting the National History Museum in Ulaan Baatar before or soon after seeing Kharakhorum.  It has an excellent German designed model of the ancient city which will definitely heighten your experience.
We start our long journey back to Ulaan Baatar at noon, a bumpy ride on and off road, past the rolling hills and wandering herds that I’ve come to love this week. What an amazing trip.

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Next stop: The Wild West

May 6th, 2007

I pick up my Kazakhstan visa tomorrow and have to figure out how I’m going to get to Olgii in far western Mongolia.  This region is more ethnically Kazakh and has been through a series of ups and downs since the fall of the USSR.  When Kazakhstan achieved independence thousands of people returned to their homeland leaving Olgii in a depressed state.  In recent years the region has seen an resurgence and I’ve heard nothing but great things about this remote area.  It is the Wild West.
I face the the options of either taking a three day bus journey from hell, or shelling out the money to fly over to have more time to enjoy the amazing area that surrounds Olgii.  This is the land of eagle hunters and the remote Altai mountain range that spans the precarious border region between Mongolia, China, Russia, and Kazakhstan.  I can think of no place more remote, a place lost among unknown peaks in the heart of Asia’s vastness.

Just across the Altai’s in Kazakhstan is the region that mothers have in mind when they threaten to send their naughty children off to Siberia.  It was here that the Russians sent Dostoyevsky to do a five year stint of hard labor for his subversive Communistic leanings.  He later based his semi-autobiographical memoir, The House of the Dead, on his experiences here.  Since then the Soviets have turned regions west of the Altai into a nuclear wasteland, detonating thousands of bombs here over the course of the cold war.

I will stay on the Mongolian side that has enjoyed a more pleasant history but reportedly retains the feeling of isolated beauty.  All I have to do is get there.

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The Dust of Ulaan Baatar

May 8th, 2007

The springtime in Mongolia feels of dusty desolation. As you walk in the capital through barren side streets past the old decrepit facades of communist apartment blocks, you can’t help but wonder how this land once became the center of the world. Ulaan Baatar is neither ugly nor beautiful. It is just one valley among the many rolling hills of Mongolia where the masses decided to settle in a jumble of brick and ger districts, the nomadic tradition taking a city’s shape. Confined to only 3 to 5 kilometers by the hills to the north and south, the city has been forced to sprawl east and west and is now around 10 km long.

The city center shows signs of a country still trying to find its place in the free market. Everywhere are bars and banks, cafes and money changers. One would think that all the people of U.B. do is visit the ATM and be merry, but this is not the case. Outside on the streets wander orphaned street kids who live in U.B.’s underground, the only refuge against Mongolia’s frigid -45 degree winters. Pickpockets are on the rise and whether or not people are frequenting the numerous bars in large numbers, there are plenty of people getting drunk on $3 bottles of vodka. Broken bottles litter the streets and countryside and fistfights are a common sight. The drunks love to approach foreigners, sometimes with malice, but usually just to blather on in Mongolian and shake your hand for five minutes. Ask any Mongolian and they’ll agree that vodka is “big problem.”

It’s generally pretty safe to walk around the city and I wander the streets daily, watching out for open manholes and rogue soccer and basketballs coming from courtyard playgrounds. I walk past empty fountains, old train cars used as garages, and the strange mix of fashion; half from the countryside and half from the runways of Europe.

When the country became a democracy in 1990 everything except the airline, national circus, and land became privatized. Recently the rest has started this process with a healthy dose of corruption thrown in for good measure. Regardless of Mongolia’s problems it still feels like the country is on the move. Tourism is expanding, infrastructure is being improved, and the economy is growing at between 8-9% annually. Even better news is that the ratio of growth to debt is shrinking.

There is poverty here, but it is minus the profound desperation felt in other places I’ve been, namely Cambodia and rural China. It feels poor because this is a hard place to live and it will always be the case. Here vegetarians are laughed at because here the animals give you everything. It is difficult living through these winters and tending to the herds but the realities of life are straightforward and people seem comfortable with their lives. It’s why I feel so comfortable here.

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Best Hostels in Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia

May 8th, 2007

Ulaan Baatar has no shortage of places to stay. The city has seen a boom in guesthouses and hostels since the fall of communist rule. I’ve narrowed down my top picks based on what I’ve heard and the places I’ve stayed or visited. Here’s my top four picks:
Golden Gobi Guesthouse

This is where I stay. The warmest atmosphere of any hostel I’ve ever stayed. Great family run place which also offers excellent tours. The location couldn’t be better. It’s right in the center of U.B. next door to the State Department store which has the biggest grocery store. Great place!!!

Nassan Tour & Guesthouse

This is U.B.’s first guesthouse and tour company. I met Nassan and she’s a lovely woman. The rooms here are simple but nice, right in the city center. Read Nassan’s comment book and you’ll know it’s a caring place. I really want to meet her mother because every comment includes a thank you to her. Sounds like a character.

 

 

Idre’s Guesthouse This is another highly experienced tour organizer that has been around for ages. Idre is the uncle of the Golden Gobi owners and these places enjoy a close relationship. If a tour doesn’t come together because of a lack of people these two companies join forces to make things work.
Bolod’s Tours & Guesthouse Heard good things. You can’t stay anywhere more centrally located, right across from Sukhbataar Square.

I’ve chosen these four because they all are Mongolian owned, are on amicable terms with each other, and have the longest tour experience in Mongolia.

The UB Guesthouse is a popular place but travelers should be wary of this place for ethical reasons. I’m not going to get into the sordid details, but have heard that their staff have harassed and intimidated other guesthouse staff at the station. There have also been reports of violence and police bribes being giving to prevent prosecution. Please support the Mongolian companies that compete fairly. Feel free to contact me for more information about this matter.

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Gonzo for Genghis

May 8th, 2007

When the Soviets ruled the roost in Mongolia Genghis (Chinggis) Khaan was a sidelined hero. I’ve even heard that they tried to kill out the remnants of his bloodline but have a hard time believing it. In the past two decades the Great Khaan has made a triumphant comeback and you can’t get very far without seeing his face.

He’s in people’s homes.

He’s on statues.

He’s on the money.

He’s on the vodka.

He’s even on hillsides.

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Elusive Olgii

May 19th, 2007

Map 

Getting to Olgii is no easy task either way you look at it. We couldn’t find a flight early enough so we’ve decided to fly to Khovd and take a jeep up to Olgii. After some shifting flight arrangements we board and have a smooth flight to Khovd and catch a junker taxi straight to the black market where you hire jeeps and vans. Getting seats in a van is no problem, but drivers don’t leave until the thing is packed to the brim with people and boxes. We sit from 10 to 4 watching the whole ride nogociating process take place. By the time we leave there are 15 people plus the driver and they have to add a roof rack for the baggage. They cram us in the back and we soon realize how thankful we are for not making the 3 day trip from U.B.

The scenery on the drive is incredible. The mountains are old and weathered, the dusty brown remnants of Central Asia’s tectonic past.  The van doesn’t stop often but when it does we all pile out and enjoy the view around the small alpine lakes where swans and grey cranes swim. Nightfall seems to never come, the last glimmer of light clings to the horizon before us as we climb Buraatyn pass with ice forming on the windows to remind us how high we are.

We come into Olgii at half 11 and see no yurts, only the square cabin dwellings of the Muslim Kazakhs and roaming dogs of the night. Even though people are milling about in the city’s darkness, we decide to stay at the fight hotel we come to, the Dumas (думан), for the night.

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City of Smiles, Olgii Western Mongolia

May 19th, 2007

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.

I don’t think the Soviet days are smiled upon, it’s just that in this backwater no one’s gotten around to replacing them. We wander the streets and are greeted with hellos and handshakes at every turn. Our hostel sits right on main street and has a balcony where we sit and wave at the passersby. I don’t think I could ever tire of the this kind of hospitality. Above us are hundreds of hawks and other birds of prey that constantly hover over the city trying to eye their next meal. It’s no wonder this is eagle country.

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.

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