fillingthegaps

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.

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!

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. 

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

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.

 

China is a land of perplexing contrasts and I think you would have to live here for a long time to really understand what makes this place tick.

Take this area where we are lodging: it’s called the Hutong and it is a fascinating area of ancient clustered dwellings. These dwellings are tiny buildings, connected together by a complex grid of narrow ally-ways but all surrounded and protected by high walls. Entry to these buildings is via ornamental doorways leading into (often) some sort of courtyard. Every thing is incredibly cramped and yet they close themselves off with high walls. Here in the Hutong it appears that peasant type folk live, in the heart of a modern bustling city.

Then there is the ‘Forbidden City’ – another ancient complex  hiding behind high walls’

So they love their privacy and seclusion.

So you would think they would respect other peoples privacy, but quite the reverse is the case. I have never come across such open, in-your-face curiosity as we are experiencing in this country. I have actually been shouldered out of the way so that someone could get a closer look at one of the kids. People don’t  just stop and view you –they come up to you face to face and peer over your shoulder! It’s quite bizarre.

And then on the other hand, for special occasions they love a show of wide open spaces’. We went to Tiananmen square the other day (supposedly the biggest public square  in the world)and roamed around its vast open wind-swept spaces. We dutifully noted that the monument in the centre is the largest monument in Asia (why is that important? I still dont know what the monument commemorated) and looked at the sculptures of the people’s struggle.

Then yesterday we went and had a look at the ‘Birdsnest” and the “Cube’ at the Olympic Games complex. Staggering amounts of space. The paved concourse area is so long that it just disappears into the haze in the distance (although with Beijing’s haze that does not have to be that far!)

But in such a crowded city it is surprising to see all that space. But this isn’t space like Western Springs or the Domain. These are vast areas of concrete with a heavy sprinkling of army and police personnel scattered around the place.

These are not places for a family picnic or a game of cricket. These are places to remind you of the power of the State and the success of the country. There may be parks around this city, but I dare say you will have to pay to get in.

The contrasts continue. The Birdsnest and the other Olympic buildings are a magnificent feat of modern engineering.

There is plenty of modern technology here so the country is not at all backward in that sense. Cutting the city into blocks are 5 or 6 lane highways – always jam-packed with frantic traffic with a healthy smattering of Audis, Mercedes, Porsche etc,

Under the streets runs a sophisticated network of subway trains as smart and efficient as anything around today. And the inter-city trains are clean, smooth and efficient and run exactly on time. I read an article the other day saying that China is going to enlarge its fleet of 200 Bullet trains with another 600 over the next 10 years!  

The logistics of a big, densly-populated country are mind-boggling to this Kiwi, Meanwhile, sharing the streets above are ancient tri-cycle goods carriers carting anything and everything to goodness- knows where

To finish my ‘contrasty’ comments, let me tell you about the work site just around the corner from us here. On this work site a group of 20 or so workmen are producing heavy timber structures. We assume these are either in preparation for a traditional building to be erected on the site, or maybe being used in the Hutong Renovation project which is evidently in progress here. The fascinating thing is to see the old-time methods they are using

The logs are first de-barked by hand, and then planed into perfectly straight and round logs – that you would swear had been trued on a machine. Then the logs are fashioned with jointed interfaces using axe, adze and bow saw, We stood and watched them this morning – marking out a log using caligraphy pen and ink, and a black chalk string. These fellows are real craftsmen, fashioning buildings the way it must have been done over 2000 years ago.

And nearby similar techniques are being used to re-roof one of the Hutong dwellings.Small clay tiles painstakingly laid by hand in black mortar.

Carefully pointed and brushed down as they go with a grass brush. End result quite exquisite.   So it seems that the ancient skills are being preserved alongside the modern technology. You’ve got to be happy about that. 

There is no doubt about it – this wall is all, and more, than anything you have any logical right to expect. No matter what perspective you take, this wall should overpower your senses and your muscles!

Aesthetically, it has a sinuous grandeur that is quite breathtaking

Logistically, it defies the imagination

Engineering-wise, it is a colossal achievement

As a symbol of what absolute power can achieve, it is a mightily  sobering experience

As a physical exercise, it will stretch you well beyond your comfort zone.

I have already written about the challenge of getting there and back in my last post and Rach has already posted a graphic description of the day, with some beautiful pictures, so I really cannot add much more to that,

But the day was too significant to  leave unrecorded, so this is my small comment.

The Wall of course, meanders for 100’s of kilometers along China’s Western border and it is possible to take a sample of it from many different spots, Our spot was  not too far from Beijing, but not that close either – considerably further than I thought it would be. Rob’s GPS regurgitated a good summery of facts and figures and some of you may be interested in the following section. (if not, please skip on regardless)

Great Wall Walk 29 March 2009

Trip to Jinshanling….Bus 980 – 72 kmsMinivan – 69 kms

I suppose from a planning perspective that made things simple: just stay on the ridge and head North. But the resulting profile of the Wall defies logic and ones imagination. How you start to dig foundations and  build a wall on the steep slopes of a mountain side, I cannot imagine. How you haul umpteen million bricks over such broken terrain  I can;t imagine either. Not to mention paving slabs, roofing tiles etc etc.

To get started on the Wall you first have to get up onto the ridge – and that is your first big test. These stone steps were not planned by NZ architects – they were cut into the hillside to get up there somehow, anyhow. So the tread widths are irregular, and the riser heights are irregular. No steady rhythm here. For me it was trip, stumble,stagger, gasp until mercifully we were at the top. In my ignorance I had thought that once we were at the top, the Wall itself would undulate gently up and down across the countryside. Hah!

How wrong can you be? The climb up to the ridge was merely a warm up – now the work really begins! Clambering up almost impossibly steep steps, cruising briefly between watch-towers  

before stepping gingerly around crumbling ledges, gasping for more air, sweating profusely and trying to appear totally in control of those shaking legs – was for me a real challenge.

Fortunately we had to take a delightful short-cut away from the wall for a few km, because we were running out of time, The brief few km of dirt path winding through the vallies with the mountains and Wall high above was a delightful reprieve from the strenuous stuff of the wall.

But we had to climb back up, and clamber through another 14 watch-towers before descending down a steep gully and across a Swing bridge, and back to base

What a fantastic experience it was! If I see little else of Beijing, with this my senses are well satisfied.

Today we went on quite an epic trek and for me I am sure it will remain one of the highlights of this adventure. We went for a hike on part of China’s Great Wall. We started quite early – early enough to have on all available clothing and still feel the chill in the air – and we did not get back to the Hostel until about 9.45pm = and it was bitterly cold

I will give you my impressions of that day in the next blog, but first let me tell you about the other aspect of ‘ripping’. The East is well known for the entrepreneurial zeal that its citizens have for making a dollar wherever possible, and for taking advantage of Tourists in particular. You quickly become accustomed to having to reject the first price tendered for anything, and are prepared to enter into a bargaining session for most purchases. But our outing today was memorable not just for the magnificence of the wall but for the number of times the ‘rippers’ had a go at us!

To get to the section of wall that we had selected was going to require a long-ish bus journey followed by a long-ish mini-bus ride.  We walked

 to the bus stop, passing through some rather palatial buildings

 and found our bus waiting-that was good. After getting aboard the conductor=lady came down to take our money, It has been quite normal for he littlies to go free and for some of t5he others to be half-fare (the Chinese system works on the heights of children rather than age) after explaining details of the kids as best we could, the conductor was still unsure how much tot charge us. The driver then appeared (in a bad mood) and said we would all have to pay full price)   Rip-off no, 1

After we had been in the bus for about an hour, the bus pulls up on the edge of he Expressway and the driver comes down and says this is where we get off. WE had asked for a particular town, but this was not in any town! But what to do?  So off we get, thinking that we can possibly walk into town which is visible about a km away. But surprise surprise, who should appear but a gaggle of scalper car-drivers, offering to take us who knows where, since they spoke no English and we speak no Chinese. The light dawns! Rip-ff no. 2 Bus driver is obviously in cahoots with the scalpy drivers  and dellivers us into their hands. Burt we are well used to walking and we are by now a hard-nosed bunch.  Most scalperss drift away but a man and woman combination are determined to hook us. They start off at Y450 for 2 cars to take us. We laugh and walk away. They fairly quickly drop the price but in the negotiations, carried out as we walk closer and closer to the town, we establish that we are only interested in a mini-van to carry all of us, and it would need to take us to one spot and then pick us up from another (this all done by Rob by means of pencil and paper, arrows and lines and numbers, plus a copy of the Chinese names he has photographed and then stored on his Palm! We walk off and leave them again and we think we have seen the last of them, but no – they catch us up in the car and get out and start feverish offers once more. This time the offer is acceptable: Y100. We  still did not know if this was acceptable because we really did not know how far it was to the wall.  However, after a 45 min drive  we decided we had got good value. Y100 instead of the original Y900.

Then we got to the wall and purchased 5 tickets for the walk from point a to point b. Rob had asked for the 5 children’s tickets first expecting a concession rate. But 5 adult rates were charged. However at that point communications broke down as Rob tried to get the 3 adult tickets, they waved us through> So we did not argue! Rip-off no 3 ended in our favour.

So now we started the walk.

 And it was terrific. We were pressed for time  and so did a bush-walk diversion for a few km before rejoining the wall. What’s this? A guy demanding that we pay the same amount over again because we are just starting the walk! We try to explain to him that we have already paid from a) to b) and b) is within sight just 5 more towers along the wall, But no he is unshakable and we have to cough up. A passing European informs us that he is experienced in these matters and we have to pay as we are passing into a new sector controlled by a new ‘division’ It reminded me of our Maori brothers way of charging for things. This feeling was further reinforced when we had to cross a final swing bridge and found, not to our surprise, a guy sitting at the other end collecting a fee for using the bridge!

The final attempt to relieve us of our cash came at the end of the mini bus ride back into the town. Rob hauls out the agreed Y100 and the driver asks for Y120 – due to ‘extra parking money.’ We  are a bit tired by now so we don’t argue, give him the Y100 say thank you and walk away.

It was a ripper of a day!