I love Mongolia

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  Ulan Bator, Mongolia
Monday, June 4, 2007

I love Mongolia.  Yesterday I had one of those roller coaster traveling abroad by the seat of your pants days.  I awoke early (5:45) to catch a bus to Simatai, a remote village 55 miles from Beijing that has a great access point for unrestored and restored sections of the Great Wall which span lofty mountain ridges.  You can see the pictures in a separate entry.  I won't write much about the Great Wall other than to say it is mind blowing.  The rest you might as well read about on Wikipedia or something.  Likewise Saturday I went to the Forbidden City and Tianneman Square.  Both are spectacular and immense.  I don't have much to report other than what you can read elsewhere.

What I will write about is that for whatever reason I figure it would be OK to take a 110 mile bus trip from Beijing on the day that I needed, finally, to fly out of Beijing for Mongolia.  I also thought nothing of maybe stopping by a grocery store to pick up some food for the journey, or, say carrying more than 100 Yuan ($13) with me

First Mongolian Meal. Yum

.  The bus ticket set me back 95 yuan, which left me with about $0.75 for the rest of the day.  Luckily a wonderful Aussie adopted me and paid for my suspension bridge crossing (5 yuan) and lunch (25 yuan).  After hiking on an empty stomach all day I was mighty hungry and quite grateful.  I love Australians.

More panic set in when I realized the bus trip took 3 and a half hours each way.  I had hoped to be back in Beijing around 3 to have a leisurely amount of time to work my way back to the hostel, collect my bag, and catch a bus to the airport that's 30 km out of town.  Of course the bus from the Great Wall hit nothing but traffic on the way back to Beijing.  We left the Great Wall at 3 PM.  Miraculously, the bus arrived in Beijing at 10 past 6.  I have no idea how in traffic we made it back faster to Beijing than with no traffic on the way from Beijing. 

After alighting from the bus, having just a Metro card and not a single drop of cash, I rush down into the Metro to head back to my hostel.  Turns out, my metro card is empty too.  Crap.  I run back out of the Metro tunnel in search of an ATM.  There's a huge shopping mall (SOGO) near the corner, so I dart in there where luckily a customer standing near the information desk spoke enough English to point me in the direction of the ATM machines

Nomadic family hired a truck...and bought a 240Z?

.  It must have been one hell of a shopping day because, as perspiration from running around dripped off my forehead, as the minutes ticked closer to my plane leaving, I could not find an ATM machine in that hall--despite there being machines from 6 different banks--which had any cash left.  I dart out again and luckily discover a lone, deserted Citibank ATM on the other side of the mall which had plenty of cash, or enough to get me out of Beijing.  From there things in Beijing went smoothly--fortunately.  I skipped the bus to the airport and opted instead for a taxi which got me there in plenty of time.

On the plane I found myself seated between two Mongolians who now live in the U.S., each headed home after a long time away from Mongolia (2 years for one, 6 months for the other).  Both of them just bubbled over with joy at returning to Mongolia.  Their joy was contagious.  Now I understand their joy.  I've been here for only 12 hours. Already I love the place.  It's growing but still a rough, frontier-like city--something from the what maybe the US was like in the early 50s except inject cell phones, color TV, and change all the signs to Cyrillic.

A high came early, moments after stepping off the plane a Dutch woman I had spoken with briefly in Beijing offered me to join her and her friend.  Her friend had arrived ahead of her and already had a hostel room reserved, met her at the airport with a driver, and had already booked a tour to the Gobi desert.  I'd been a little anxious about finding a group to join in touring the country as the only way to get around is to find others to share a jeep with.  I thought, what could be better.  I've only been in the country for minutes and already I have a place to stay, a ride into town, friends, and a week or so worth of touring booked. 

When we arrived at the guest house, my lucked changed.  The guest house was booked full and minutes later I found myself alone, abandoned at 1 in the morning on the cold, desolate, dark streets of Mongolia's frontier capital with nothing but drunks jeering me.  Turns out the friend didn't seem too keen on her Dutch companion just throwing me into their group. 

After wandering around a bit in desperation, cold, somewhat lost, thinking about the possibility of setting up my tent on the outskirts of town, I suddenly hear the distinct sounds of a group of drunk Americans coming my way.  They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.  Turns out that I had already somehow managed with just the most basic of pointing from a guard to wander into a courtyard with three hostels.  One wouldn't answer the door.  Once I met the Americans, which later turned out to all be Peace Corps volunteers, they buzzed the door of a third hostel most of them were staying in which happened to only be about 20 yards from were I was standing, though I hadn't yet spotted it in the dark. 

Inside the warm, friendly, open hostel, a feisty and super friendly Mongolian woman who speaks fluent English gave me a hard time, assured me I could stay as long as I wanted, and even started telling me--at 2 in the morning now--about all the various other guests who would want me to join them.  I couldn't be happier.  To boot, another American Peace Corps volunteer was lounging on the couch and we all sat and chatted for a good half hour before I finally called it a night.  This place feels like home (almost). 

What a roller coaster day.  A high of seeing the Great Wall, a low of not having a cent to spend on food and thinking I'd miss my plane to Mongolia after already delaying myself 48 hours, a high of meeting enthusiastic Mongolians and thinking that everything in Mongolia would just fall into place, a low of realizing that I might be spending the night camping--freezing--somewhere in the middle of Ulan Bator, and a high again of realizing this place rocks and wow that down comforter sure felt cozy and everything just might fall into place. 

As I write this the day after (June 4), I've now met a Chinese-English guy and a Chinese-American guy.  Together at least the three of us plan to hire a jeep and guide and head out into an area that everyone compares to the Swiss Alps, which is more where I had hoped to go than where the Dutch woman had proposed.  I can't wait. 

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