fillingthegaps

I suppose one of the things that travelers fear the most, is getting sick when you are in a strange place : miles from the comfort of your own home and the proximity of your GP if required.

Well it has to happen if you are on a year-long sojourn, and right now our accommodation in this Guest  House resembles a sick-bay in the Crimea.

Oh we are not dreadfully sick, but enough to stop us in our tracks and opt for rest rather than expeditions. Still we have a room with a view:

We have traced the source of our discomfort to the “Horseshoes” we ate a couple of nights ago. Having run out of time to cook our own meal we opted for the extravagance of eating at a small restaurant nearby. As it happened they were about to close and all they had left were these ‘Horseshoes’ – a local favourite which resembles a Cornish pasty without the veggies. They were tasty enough, although on reflection we realised that they were quite oily.

During the night, Lboy8 decided to divest himself of the dinner – I guess his tummy was the most sensitive. The following morning we all awoke in varying degrees of well-being – all feeling decidedly jaded. Since then a few more have thrown up, some have a case of the trots and some are already recovering and the hardy ones are finally wilting. Not a happy troupe of warriors!

Actually I was rather hoping that we could have traced our ailments to a bug picked up in the Ger. Then I could have used that classic Toyota ad. expression – “Bug Ger!”, but that would have been stretching the truth a bit.

So here we are holed up in our ‘pension’

 and actually we are quite comfortable. As accommodation goes, this is one of our better spots. The view from our window is of the playground in our little square  We all have a bed each. (come to think of it, that isn’t quite true because RnR sleep on a couple of thick duvets on the floor!) We also have a small kitchenette with a small range-top cum oven. We also have our own toilet, bath and shower – and the toilet is a real sit-down job. How your appreciation of the basics sharpens as you travel!

We are very close to the city centre which has a large square as its focal point. It is flanked on one side by the Parliament building (or whatever it is called in this Communist state) and on the other side by ornate theatre and cultural buildings. All within easy walking distance.

The truth is, we are just a little wary of walking around in this rather lawless city. Oh we are not staying holed up in fear of venturing forth, but when you walk you are conscious of the repeated warnings from all quarters, to watch out for pick-pockets, don’t go out after dark etc etc. The Proprietor here spent half his time when registering us to warn to on no account open our door to anyone, keep doors locked at all times, don’t go out after dark and so on. Not quite the ‘Welcome to our country’ touristy thing you might expect.

This is the lock on our front door

We have had this unsavoury aspect of Mongolia re-enforced by practical experience. On our way back from the market, travelling on a very crowded bus, I lost my camera (out of it’s case) to a light-fingered pick-pocket. Later that same day a couple of fellow-residents got mugged in the main street in broad daylight. Just now Rach returned from a quick trip to the local ‘Supermarket’ and on the way back, observed a guy lift  a packet of cigarettes out of a street-sellers display, and move quickly on his way.

Rach thought about pointing out the theft to the stall-owner, but since he was busy urinating onto the side-walk from his sitting position) she felt the time was not quite right! So  these sort of things take the edge off free and easy exploring of the city.

Really it all boils down to local knowledge. I am sure the local, law-abiding citizens lead an untroubled life, knowing automatically the do’s and don’ts of the city; avoiding parts which could be troublesome and using transport means that they know are hazard-free. We in our ignorance blunder around, and sometimes have to learn the hard way. But it’s all part of life’s experience and the kids observe it all with varying degrees of understanding.

Well I started this off as a sick-bay report, but I am pleased to say that as I finish, there are only two resting in bed: the rest have bounced back to their usual boisterous selves. I am aware that there people covering us with their prayers, and we are conscious of His provision and protection on a daily basis. We are grateful to you all.

in my last post we had just arrived at the ‘GER” the Mongolian name for their circular felt-insulated, collapsible homes. 

Rach had found this place through the ‘Couch-surfing’ web-site. The original intention was that this would be a time when the kids could experience real winter conditions with heaps of snow and frigid temperatures. The kids were really looking forward to snow, but alas, it was not to be. Frigid temperatures yes. Iced-over river, yes. But snow? Only on the distant mountains. Never the less, this was to be one of the most unforgettable experiences of our lives.

As we made our way across the rocky section we noticed a quaint little shed in one corner. Gardening shed? No this is the toilet chaps, equipped with the very best traditional         2-plank squat facility. (a great incentive for learning the art of ‘hanging on’ in the middle of a minus 10C night!)

When we reached the Ger we wondered how we were going to get in. Rob was about twice the size of the door opening!

However our smiling hostess with limited English beckoned us in, and we struggled into the relative gloom on the inside. Now outside we have had clear blue skies since I can’t remember when, with the sun always dazzling our vision. And the air temperature has been hovering around 3 – 10 C. Suddenly we were pitched into the relative gloom of a windowless Ger with a room temperature around 28 C.

Let me take a moment to describe a Ger. It is circular, approximately 6-7m in diameter. The wall height is about 1.5 M and the centre is supported on two poles about 1 m apart, which are about 2.5 M high. The two centre poles support a timber ring (about 1.5 M diameter.) This ring is toothed like a giant cog-wheel and into the gaps in the teeth are slotted supporting poles that angle out to the outer wall.

The outer wall is made of a continuous trellis –like lattice. Wrapped around the lattice, and over the roof poles, is laid a heavy layer (or  more likely several layers) of felt. Holding the felt in place is a heavy cotton ‘sleeve – the size of the Ger. Holding the sleeve in place are several wide straps like a couple of belts around a rotund father christmas. Inside, the floor consists of timber layed on the ground (which has been levelled ) and then covered with felt and finally some more timber sheeting. In the centre of the Ger, between those two poles is a coal-burning range, the flue of which sticks up through the roof. The walls are hung with curtain-like material.  And this is where everyone lives together for the Winter months. t it can be blowing a gale, and 20 C below, inside it is a quiet, cosy 25 C or more!

But there was so much about living in this place that gave pause for thought. I have talked before about contrasts, but these two days were just staggering. Consider: our host has a degree in Computer Science, and works in the IT section of the City Library. This is a man who is passionate about the Environment; about progress for his people, about the value of families, Education and so on. A man who has a passion for lifting the level, not just of his family, but his Country! And this is no idle dreamer: he has his feet on the ground and he is doing something about his passion. He is heavily involved in producing a newspaper designed to provoke awareness, the need for change, respect for the values of earlier generations, the need to care for the environment, how to budget, how to live sustainably. Oh his ideas and words just flow!

And what are the circumstances of this modest but passionate man? He lives in a Ger. No piped water to the house. Where does the water come from? He buys it from the water-station at  the bottom of the hill. Then he drags the barrel of water uphill on a trolly, with his wife pushing from behind, just about every day. Try that when it is 40 below and everything is iced up, as it is in mid winter. Power is trailed from somewhere on a thin cable and lights 2 bulbs hanging from the roof. But note – one of the bulbs is a power-saving mercury vapour bulb. He is checking to see if it is all that it is said to be. And I have told you about the toilet facilities. Next year he plans to dig a 2-person facility for more convenience for his . No shower, no bath not even a wash hand basin. Just a tap in one corner, a small tank above filled by hand and ladle. Get rid of waste water? carry it in a big basin down to the cess-pit next to the dunny. Or if the weather is bad, scuttle a few feet from the door and chuck it into a convenient gully. On a fine sunny day, the cow dung is drying nicely.

 The wife has collected it from their two cows (oh, didnt I tell you about the two cows they hace in a shed a couple of metres from the door?) 

 Today she can go over her collection carefully, seeing which are dry enough to use on the fire to supplemnt the coal. Does she see this as degrading? No – it’s a very practical example of sustainable living. In this house (Ger) nothing is wasted. All the vegetable peelings, leftovers from meals etc are fed to the cows, to supplement the fodder they have too buy during the winter months. Which reminds me – in the summer they take their cows up the the hills behind them, to graze on the lush grass.

We went for a walk up there the other day. Right now at the end of winter, the hillsides are literally bare rock and gravel. But we were assured that in a moths time the hills will be covered in green and there will be lots of grass for the cattle and for making hay. It appeasers that any one can take their cattle to graze there. Of course you cannot leave them unattended because they will be stolen.

So this is the life for this young couple and their four bright, intelligent kids. The Library computer technician has been overseas 4 times. He has seen how life is lived in the West. Is he envious or despondent about his lot? Not in the least! He is convinced that things will improve, and he is going to be part of the process. He believes that Mongolia has much to teach the West, and he is confident that the day will come

He also has a sense of humour! He confessed that he accepted Rachael’s requst to stay because ‘he wanted to see how manny could be squeezed into his GEr! There wre 6 of them and 11 of us – that made 17 of us laid out like sardines in a tin when we ‘went to bed’ Bed by the way, was your sleeping bag on thee floor.

His wife, by the way, had studied dress design and cooking at Tech college. How did she feel about grubbing around in sloppy sweater and gumboots, sorting the cow-dung? I had occasion to ask her if she was happy and she she replied with a quiet smile on her face, that she loved looking after her family. End of story.

This will (I hope!) rate as the most arduous bit of travelling we will do.

Not that the train was uncomfortable, far from it, but we were on the train for 30 hrs and then rounded off the trip by travelling by bus to a Mongolian Ger. This was one of the felt ‘round houses’ that traditionally, nomadic Mongolian and Russian shepherds lived in. This was not a ‘Tourist’ version: this was the real thing, and we spent two fascinating days living with them. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The train journey out of the mega-city of Beijing started by slowly discarding the high-rises and super-buildings and finally getting into the countryside.

        

Immediately the train started a long gradual climb through incredibly rugged terrain: diving in and out of tunnels for literally hours, the countryside becoming more and more barren and inhospitable

_ eventually catching another glimpse of the Great Wall – still snaking its way North.

The terrain reminded me of scenes of the Afghan Border. A great part of the time diving through tunnels that cut through the mountainous region. Across ravines more rail tracks could be seen also diving through more tunnels. Incredibly difficult terrain. Dry dry dry. This was countryside just emerging from a harsh winter – months of sub-zero temperatures  and no rain.

Climbed slowly to over 5000ft Our popping ears – and Rob’s GPS confirmed that we were indeed getting high up. Air very dry and cold. Reminded me of flying in an aircraft. Gradually the rugged mountains gave way to more rolling hill country – still brown & dry. Not a blade of grass to be seen, not a tree in sight.

Later seen across a vast flat plain (reminded me of Klondike Corner in the SI but 10 times bigger: two huge goods trains going in opposite directions. Each with 2 huge engines coupled together and the trains looked up to 1/2 km long.

Iced-over ponds and semi-frozen rivers dotted the scenery.

Passing us in opposite direction every 10 mins or less, another goods train! In what seems the middle of a wilderness, signs of intense economic activity.

In ‘the middle of nowhere’ vast viaduct structures to carry rail & road above the countryside. Why? Every where evidence of vast infrastructure development, seemingly well ahead of current needs.

A sudden pollution-producing building block set in the middle of nothing. What purpose?

At about 8.15pm we reached the China/Mongolia border and this started the the longest and most arduous border crossing I have ever endured. The whole process lasted from 8.15pm to 2.00am. It was impossible to get any sleep during that time. Why such a long process? Well the reason is that China and Mongolia run there own rail gauges, and they differ by about 120mm! The most logical answer to this dilemma is that everybody disembarks and gets on another train for the Mongolian sector. But no! These guys have a much more ingenious way of dealing with the problem – change the bogies under the carriages! Hard to believe but that it what they did/do. Given about 16 carriages, each with 2 sets of massive 4-wheel bogy sets, this could never be a quick  job!

A huge workshop,

 

well over 100 m long equipped with many service station type hydraulic lifting stations and with twin gauge tracks is set off to one side of the line. By dint of endless shunting backwards and forwards a few carriages at a time are shuffled into position in the workshop A carriage (complete with passengers if you elected to stay on board) is lifted bodily off the bogy sets which are then rolled away. New-gauge bogies are then rolled in place under the raised carriage which is the lowered onto them.

 

A smooth operation except for the shuffling of carriages through the workshop. This took 2-3 hours with endless hooting signals from the train driver accompanied by bone-shaking crashes as the rain shuffles back and forth endlessly. It seemed part of the Safety inspection procedures to jarringly push and then pull the newly-mounted carriages. The racket was hideous, bang, crash, toot, toot, on and on for several hours. Of course the gangs performing this re-building of the train are  all working in about 0C temperature!

Of course, while carriages disconnected all carriage heating is off. Prob 1C outside so train cools off. Also all the toilets are locked while the train under service. Cold night air and no toilets not a good combination! There were a lot of anxious faces during this time.

Then came Customs and Immigration officers, taking passports, checking forms, handing out more forms, passing passports back, collecting passports again and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Finally finished at 2.0am.

We awoke a few brief hours later to a barren landscape of Mongolian Steppe. Actually the Gobi desert! Looks like Canterbury plains after 3 yr drought. Brown undulating plains as far as the eye can see. Apparently Winter is the dry season.  Occasional cattle nibbling at what appears to be pure desert! Air is crackling dry. Throat dry, lining of nose dry and tingling, throat feels parched all time.

To pass the time away I introduced some of the kids to Shanghai (the card game) and we spent a few fun hours at it. Some friends of mine will be most pleased to hear that the disease is spreading!

Hour upon hour of flat brown plains Not a tree in sight in any direction –it must be piteously hot in the summer. A desolate and barren outlook.

Finally we made a slow arrival at a quiet Ulaan Bataar station. Not the mad scramble to be first that has been the norm throughout South East Asia. Instead, a new cultural style that we will soon become accustomed to: a steady purposeful progress of burley people who happily shoulder you out of the way as they make their way.

 

Once on the platform we realise we a have over an hour to wait before our ‘Couch-surfing’ host is due to meet us. So Rob & I take off to look for money and place where we will be able to buy tickets, while rest waited patiently for our contact to arrive.

This is a fairly ram-shackle city. It reminded me of Yangon: the same crumbling footpaths and roads, broken facilities, rubbish everywhere, lack of order and general air of decay. There are the big modern buildings dotted around but these are few and far between.

When we returned, we found the party talking to a chap on his bike, with a young boy hanging around. As I approached I said “no sign of your contact yet”? thinking this unprepossessing duo were not likely to be our hosts. How wrong can you be! Our host had just ducked away from work with his son to meet us. His son, (all of 9 years old) it transpires, will take us to his Ger on ‘his’ bus. He pointed across the road to where I could see a number of mini-buses parked. Things are looking up I thought. How wrong can you be? Again! ‘His’ bus turns out to be the no.20 which his family always catch! Fortunately we are at the start of the bus route and so we get ourselves and our packs on quite easily. The journey takes about 30 mins. The bus stops at every stop. At every stop more people get on, no-one seems to be getting off. Half way into our journey it is standing room only. Still the bus stops. No-one is refused entry. More people get on. Again the the bus stops. More people get on. This is just impossible. Squashed next to me is a lady with a pair of crutches and one leg. Someone has grudgingly given her a seat. She is being pressed steadily into my lap. Hanging above us is another woman going greener by the minute and swaying dangerously close to a faint. I shove open the sliding window and encourage her to sit on the top of my (soft) suitcase. Somehow she manages to collapse onto the case. The bus stops, more people get in. This is totally unreal! The woman in front angrily slams the window shut again, but some colour has returned to the cheeks of the green lady. Mercifully, she will not throw up all over me.

Finally we reach our stop. Through the hubbub I hear a muffled shout from Rob, buried somewhere in the crowd, and we fight our way off the bus. Where are we? The district has been getting steadily more run down and scruffy, and here we are, on the dusty side of the road with seemingly nowhere inviting to go!

The boy gives us an encouraging smile and we head off, up the side of a dusty gully. The bottom of the gully is evidently the site of the local rubbish dump, but we trudge wearily up the side, I dragging my trusty wheeled suitcase through the dust and rocks.

Further on up we struggle (I am feeling just about done-for!) when the boy swings open a narrow ‘door’ to an alleyway.

 

We squeeze through this and find a barren rocky area in front of us, with a couple of Gers tucked in the corners. This is to be home for the next couple of nights.