A Kingdom Full Of Horses
Trip Start
Nov 16, 2007
1
38
40
Trip End
Aug 2008
Ulan Bator,
Mongolia
Monday, August 4, 2008
We are soon out into the countryside around Beijing, getting steadily drier as we move north. The train crosses the Great Wall at Zhangjiakou on the edge of Inner Mongolia. At this point the wall is less well repaired, sometimes disappearing entirely when it reaches the valley floors. Hundreds of tiny villages slip by, each one less developed than the last. The day flashes by with the scenery, chatting away with my cabin mates.
After dinner in the functional Chinese dining car, we pull into the border point between China and Mongolia. In the gloom, a stream of Chinese border guards start the laborious task of checking papers and baggage. Satisfied, they allow us off the train to relax while bogeys are changed. The railway lines are different gauges in China and Mongolia, so the train disappears off to get some new undercarriage. A couple of hours later we are set to move over the border and repeat the paperwork checks and baggage inspection. Finally complete, we settle down for the night time journey across the Gobi desert.
Waking with the intense sunshine of the Gobi, we realise leaving the window open for ventilation was a mistake in hindsight.
Beijing Main Station
A thin layer of sand covers much of the cabin, and my hair seems to contain enough of the stuff to start a business. Tidied up, I try the food in the new Mongolian dining car. Less variety than the Chinese equivalent, but much better decor. The rest of the morning flies past with reading and chatting. The arid landscape of the Gobi gradually gives over to the mountainous grassy plains of the Mongolian Steppes. Almost looping back on ourselves numerous times, we climb to the Mongolian capital of Ulan Baatar.After saying goodbye to Rafael and Ann-Marie, I meet my guide for the next three days, Choka. First a tour of some of Ulan Baatar's sights. Gandan Monestary was the only Buddhist centre to survive the communist purges of the 1930's. Choka points out this is principally because the Soviet cavalry used the massive buildings to keep their horses. Next we go to Sukhbaatar Square, sort of like a small Tian'anmen Square, with a big statue of Chinggis Khan sitting in front of the parliament building. Finally we head out of the city centre to the Zaisan Hill Memorial. The Soviets built it to commemorate their dead. A giant stone soldier stares out across the valley that holds half of Mongolia's population.
With the tour complete, we push through the dense traffic to the east. Soon enough we are out into the rolling plains that make up much of Mongolia. A rough single lane road carries everything east. We stop. The company's other car has broken down so time for a tow. We race off, occasionally jolting sideways as the car behind slams on the brakes.
1-Beijing Main Station
Then onto dirt roads for the last section, throwing up great clouds of dust. Beyond a final hill emerges the ger (tent) camp I will be staying in.A ger is the traditional home of the Mongolians. Made from felt and cloth over a circular wooden frame, it can be constructed in less than an hour and a half. I have one to myself and a very comfortable bed. After a shower and some dinner, I make the most of an early night.
After eating breakfast with Choka the next morning we walk about 2 km to visit a Mongolian family. They are engaged in the tricky task of separating the flocks of goats from 3 different families nearby. Charging around, the goats evade their efforts for a while until the experienced hands manage to bring order. The mother of the family invites Choka and me into their ger for some mid-morning fermented mare's milk, airag (pronounced 'eric'). Traditionally you stand up and sing a folk song before drinking and passing the vessel on. I get up and sing a nursery rhyme before drinking. Tastes like very sour natural yoghurt.
Back to the camp and after lunch, Choka and I walk over to the next valley. On the far side lies a new statue of Chinggis Khan. Huge and made from aluminum, it definitely makes an impression. Then back to the camp for dinner and some cards and local games. One is particularly fun, flicking sheeps ankle bones around on a felt cloth. The stars shine bright as I head to bed. Back to Ulan Baatar for the train to Moscow tomorrow.
