Mongolia - a fleeting glimpse
Trip Start
Jan 24, 2004
1
13
31
Trip End
Apr 01, 2004
Ulan Bator,
Mongolia
Sunday, February 22, 2004
22nd February 2004
The border crossing at Naushki takes approximately five hours . Five hours of officials searching compartments and stamping documents. Well would you believe it, I am in Sukhbaatar, Mongolia. I set my alarm clock for 7am so as not to miss the stop at Ulan Baatar, the capital of Mongolia. I just want to step down from the train and say I've been there. And so I do. I oblige the souvenir sellers by purchasing some postcards. Mongolians are very fine looking people with distinguished features . It feels like I am somewhere different from what has gone before. Yet the transition is incomplete since in Mongolia they still use the Russian alphabet.
I have heard reports from Tammy that she was 'arrested' here at Ulan Baator station
Onboard dining - Mongolian style
. A minor infringement and quite inexpensive to sort out. She was smoking in a non designated area. Since the railway is the only tourist corridor in the entire country , its hardly surprising that they seize the opportunity to inflate their wage packets with a few classic Asian scams. The train winds through fields of snow with the odd scattering of Ger . The round felt porta-houses that the nomadic inhabitants of this country prefer. I retire to the restaurant car and have a bit of a shock when I see that it's suddenly changed from the Russian one to another one. Now containing carved wooden screens and hanging ornaments . The beer is Korean. The view outside is now desert scrub. We are carving our path through the upper reaches of the Gobi desert. The snow has left us. Camels and herds of other strange beasts roam nibbling at tufts of wiry grass. I sit watching the looming sky turn red. And It becomes like a Star Wars movie . The skeletons of creatures long-expired , their bones bleached white , under the blood-orange sunset.
And to Zamiin Uud. The next border point. The Mongolian officials in dark blue uniforms are polite and cursory. The Chinese in their green uniforms look at me, look at my passport and declare I am not the person in the picture. I have not been shaving nor partaking in haircuts of any kind for quite a while. Finally they stop being so bloody awkward and do their petty jobs. And the train is sent into the goods shed for a wheel change. We are almost at Erlian and about 850 kilometres from Beijing.
Next ; Arriving in China
