ulaanbaatar (UB) part two
Back in UB, there had been heavy snow while I was in the countryside. Damn cold too! My gloves kept icing over with frost. My eyebrows were frosty too. Over the next two days, I visited some of the museums et al but it was just too cold to be around. The trouble was that the hostel was garrisoned by a battalion of Yanks who were intent on securing the common area as their sovereign territory. It didn't appeal to me at all to be near Fortress America so I continued my wandering.
I walked past a photo gallery on one of the main roads. It had an advertising board outside showing examples of portrait photo's taken for customers. There were a half-dozen in all. I had to take a closer glance at one of them. It was a Mongolian bloke dressed as an SS Officer of the Totenkopf (Death's Head) division. I know this as I recognised the insignia. You could end up in prison in Germany for this. Then I looked at the other photo's and another bloke was proudly dressed as a Nazi! What's this all about?
On my final night, I went for a beer and some Mongolian guy offered me a prostitute at a 50% discount. I declined. He was a reasonable enough bloke and he didn't press it any further. Later he showed me photo's of his wife and kid. They were stored on his mobile phone. I scrolled through them and I couldn't believe it. The guy was a rozzer. I asked him whether it was a fancy dress or something and he casually said 'no, I am a Policeman'. I wonder whether the hooker offer thing was part of a sting.
I left Eric and headed of to a nightclub. It was a reasonably presented place. A place for ex-pats and 'Peace' corp Yanks in the midst of Mongolia's finest. I watched from the balcony at the dancefloor below. It was a cringing experience to watch how the western guys act towards the local girls. Practically forcing themselves on them. Subtle it wasn't. I decided to head back to the hostel.
And lo, my camera and swiss army knife had managed to open the combination lock (provided by the hostel!), leave my room and then cleverly re-lock the door, all by themselves. Clever, eh! Anyway, I made my complaint knowing nothing would come of it. At least, I'm now at the point where there is nothing else of value to be stolen from me ! Fortunately I had backed up my memory cards to CD that day.
The Yanks were having a wonderfully loud conversation as I tried to get asleep. I needed to be up at 5am to go to the airport. My first flight since Dublin to London. Anyway, it was hard not to hear them and I would like to quote them as it will give a good tenor of the conversation.
Y1: Are you ideologically opposed to the word 'c*nt'?
Y2: It's totally the worst word in the world.
Y1: Dude, we're educated, it's only a word. Why don't you like it?
Y2: I guess it has something to do with the 'c' and the 't'.
I could go on but I won't. All I'll say is that Y2 must have an aversion to the words 'count', 'chart', 'cat', etc, etc.
I walked past a photo gallery on one of the main roads. It had an advertising board outside showing examples of portrait photo's taken for customers. There were a half-dozen in all. I had to take a closer glance at one of them. It was a Mongolian bloke dressed as an SS Officer of the Totenkopf (Death's Head) division. I know this as I recognised the insignia. You could end up in prison in Germany for this. Then I looked at the other photo's and another bloke was proudly dressed as a Nazi! What's this all about?
On my final night, I went for a beer and some Mongolian guy offered me a prostitute at a 50% discount. I declined. He was a reasonable enough bloke and he didn't press it any further. Later he showed me photo's of his wife and kid. They were stored on his mobile phone. I scrolled through them and I couldn't believe it. The guy was a rozzer. I asked him whether it was a fancy dress or something and he casually said 'no, I am a Policeman'. I wonder whether the hooker offer thing was part of a sting.
I left Eric and headed of to a nightclub. It was a reasonably presented place. A place for ex-pats and 'Peace' corp Yanks in the midst of Mongolia's finest. I watched from the balcony at the dancefloor below. It was a cringing experience to watch how the western guys act towards the local girls. Practically forcing themselves on them. Subtle it wasn't. I decided to head back to the hostel.
And lo, my camera and swiss army knife had managed to open the combination lock (provided by the hostel!), leave my room and then cleverly re-lock the door, all by themselves. Clever, eh! Anyway, I made my complaint knowing nothing would come of it. At least, I'm now at the point where there is nothing else of value to be stolen from me ! Fortunately I had backed up my memory cards to CD that day.
The Yanks were having a wonderfully loud conversation as I tried to get asleep. I needed to be up at 5am to go to the airport. My first flight since Dublin to London. Anyway, it was hard not to hear them and I would like to quote them as it will give a good tenor of the conversation.
Y1: Are you ideologically opposed to the word 'c*nt'?
Y2: It's totally the worst word in the world.
Y1: Dude, we're educated, it's only a word. Why don't you like it?
Y2: I guess it has something to do with the 'c' and the 't'.
I could go on but I won't. All I'll say is that Y2 must have an aversion to the words 'count', 'chart', 'cat', etc, etc.
posted by Ciarán at 4:07 p.m.
2 Comments:
Your travels continue to sound amazing.Sorry about the camera.Will send pictures from Russia
Ginger, sorry it's taken so long to log in, just being lazy. Sounds as though you're having a great time on your travels, I have yet to read all your entries. All the boys say hello. I'll be looking into your blog more often, so look after yourself, and enjoy the experience.
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