gotta pick a pocket or two
by Rachael
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
He’s still shaking as he bursts through the door and sinks onto a couch. A white bandage stands out on his Asian-coloured cheek, one lens is missing from his glasses and his girlfriend is close to tears.
“What happened?” fellow travellers and hostel-owner alike, ask the pair.
We were walking along the street minding our own business when three guys came up from behind and tried to get into the pockets on my pants. (He had baggy cargo pants on with lots of pockets for the picking). When I realised what was going on I elbowed them back and they didn’t appreciate it. They chucked a jacket over my head and threw a few punches at my face before disappearing. A lady on the street, who spoke a little English, came to our aid and drove us to the hospital. She was so kind, she really went out of her way to help us. She even brought us back here once I’d got stitched up. So kind. At least we’re OK and they didn’t get anything.
No wonder he was shaking. This was broad daylight on the main street, two o’clock in the afternoon.
And that’s about the time Grandpa got done too, the day before.
He was on a busy bus, camera around his neck (because we know not to use a backpack here) when he saw a guy jump off at the last minute before the bus started. We’ve seen stranger things, so he didn’t spare the thug another thought. Even when he noticed his camera bag was open, dear Grandpa just assumed he was really starting to get a bit dottery. But closing the bag, he realised it was empty. And the jump-off-the-bus-behaviour made total sense. Good-bye camera. It was probably at the Black Market before Grandpa was even off the bus.
Coupled with the signs warning us not to go out after midnight or to open the door, these situations have made us a bit jittery when out. We find ourselves looking suspiciously at everyone – and to be honest, ninety per cent of *them* look shifty. Probably doesn’t help that this is a culture that does not smile in greeting, so everyone looks sombre. Usually we carry our valuables with us at all times (money, passports, cards, camera, laptop)….but here it seems a lot safer to leave them in the hostel. And it’s not just tourists that are targetted if the behaviour of local women on the bus is any indicator – most of them clutch their bags in front of them, not letting go even to stop themselves from falling when the bus stops suddenly (which it has at least three times on every journey so far!)
Maybe we would do well to learn from the old ladies at the market…..we have seen a number of them carrying their money in their shoe.
Not sure that would help the children though. After starting out vigilantly watching each and every one of them at all times, we had become quite relaxed, and even in the big city crowds felt the need to do a head count only every so often (assuming, of course, that the smallest four were always at our side). Here, at the end of the world, where we wrongly thought nothing could possibly happen, they are buddied-up at all times when we are out – coz, just to add to our sense of dis-ease, this happens to be child-snatching country too. And we’re not taking any chances.
Some general photos of central UB
Tags: grandpa's stories, postcard: Mongolia, transport
rayres
yikes! i hope the kids are buddied in groups of 4!
Hi, I’ve been meaning to post a hello ever since you started writing. I enjoy popping in to read and see where your family are and what you are doing. We watched a documentary awhile back on Mongolia (on the Maori channel) and were fascinated by it – sadly – watching it I’m sure doesn’t even compare to being there!
Tara
you give me a renewed appreciation of the safety and honesty of my community. I have left knitting bags and purses in restaurants, and been chased down to have them returned. I have dropped cell phones, and cameras and had both waiting for me when I returned. I never expect honesty, but am truly grateful for its appearance. I pray for you and your entire family in your travels. May God watch over you and keep you safe from harm.
Oh my! How long are you guys here for????