gobi desert & kharkhorim

My guide and driver arrived early. We travelled for 6 hours along an endlessly straight road in a wide open expanse of featureless land. The road is a festival of potholes that has the driver swerving here and there. Just like me in the back. The only traffic is oncoming and they a Russian-made trucks carrying gravity defying loads of cow hide. Each family slaughters a cow for the winter so it's peak season for cow hides. Inevitably, the raw product is being sent to China. I learned as we had stopped at a truckers cafe along the way and I spoke to one of them. A great bear of a man, wrapped in multiple layers and a face that was probably washed in diesel that morning. Reasonable English though.

There isn't a lot to Gobi other than sand. Of course, it's a desert! I visited the edge of it. It stretches for hundreds of miles. It took only a little while to climb one of the sand dunes but truthfully, where I was, they are very modest in size. Go further into the Gobi interior and it takes two hours to climb to the top of one of the sand dunes. Gigantic.

On my way down the dune, I met a dog and threw a bun for him to fetch. He legged it off to get his prize but from nowhere, three magpies honed in and began fighting each other over it. The bun being too heavy for a magpie, they could only take pieces from it. Then the dog arrived and before you knew it, a four-way fight (with great violence) was under way. The dog won but I bet his head took a battering from their beaks. I tell this story as it amuses me but also, it shows how tough life is in the Gobi.

That evening I stayed with a nomdic family in their ger (tent). It was minus 35 but amazingly it was really warm inside their home. I was greeted with a huge bowl of meat on the bone, spuds and a kind of greasy pitta bread. I was given a sharp knife and set free on the roasted meat. What is it? I asked. Horse! Two to one odds on favourite to be in my belly by the close of the race. A most gracious, delicious philly. Tastes like a cross of lamb and beef. Beautiful. Come get me RSPCA!!!

I brought a bottle of vodka as a gift for the family and was very happy to see them share it with me. There are buddist customs associated with how you drink it but in essense, it's a question of just lashing it back. The family told me a traditional musician was in the area and asked whether I would like him to play for me. At 4 euro's, it would be stupid to say no.

I have never seen a more weather-worn face in my life. I will not compare his face with an object or animal. Although I could. There was something charming, humble and worldly in his face. He played for 2 hours. Just to me! Oh, the family were there but they were pottering around the ger doing other things. It was hard to contain my joy. He was dressed for success. All the Genghis Khan haute couture! He had 3 different types of traditional instruments. He could make notes in the following ways; 4 types of banging wood on the skull, 4 types of finger flicking, 4 types of noise from nose, throat, lungs, stomach. Just wonderful. The general theme of the songs was horses, love and baby camels. I wondered about the connection between these pieces. With his instruments he could mimic the sounds of horses and baby camels. It was uncanny. In the end, I was so happy I increased his concert fee to 10 euros.

At my somewhat drunken insistence I persuaded my driver (half -cut too) to drive the musician back to his ger. I would come go along too. My motive was to secure another bottle of vodka. The musician directed us to the shop, passing completely barren land. So a bottle for me and a bottle for the musician. It was an amazing journey as there wasn't any kind of road, it was pitch dark, the car rocked up and down, and all to the accompaniment of our musician singing for us.

Got back to the ger safely! More vodka, horse, dumplings. A lovely night. Next of all I awoke at 7am running around the ger in my jocks. Bear in mind that everyone sleeps in the same place so it wouldn't have been a pretty sight for them. My guide woke up and asked me what I was looking for. Water. I was pointed in the right direction. Once my thirst had been satisfied, I sought the tiolet. Squat, hole in the ground, opening between boards, cased in an out-house. I could only think of the horror of ever being so unlucky as to fall down the hole.

More dumplings and went off to see Genghis Khans ancient capital and the nearby monastery. Hard to believe that Kharkhorum was once the seat of the largest (territory-wise) empire the world has ever seen. Now it's no more than a dusty village. It's main structures were wooden and are long since gone. Just like my camera battery, I thought, it went flat and that freaked me out a little as I had only just charged it. Later I learned that it was simply too cold for it to operate. Minus 35. The monastery has also seen better days. Only a few stone structures remain within its magnificent walls. One of these was occupied by thirty Buddists monks who were chanting. I sat with them and listened for a long time. It was very nice.

Soon it was dark.

post script six

1. I can't view the blog in Mongolia. They have some hairy internet censorship going on. Democracy, eh! Why doesn't George Dubya say something about this in his quest for universal freedom. They're allies, aren't they? A quite word in the ear!

2. So far, I've had a haircut in London, Berlin and UB. They all had their own merits but the one in UB stood out most for the precision, care and duration of cut. All for 3 euro too. It's the simple things in life that are the most rewarding.

3. Sorry but a little more America bashing. They have an operation called the 'Peace Corp' where young Yanks go aboard to teach English. Do any of these people actually like the countries they go to ? It seems not. Also, please refrain from telling me that it's a benevolent act on the part of the U S of A. It's not. It's strategic. America does not have friends, only interests! Also, change the name of this outfit, it's unbecoming. American foreign policy has been the most aggressive and warlike of all the major powers since the end of the second world war.

ulaanbaatar (UB) part one

Finally, the train journey is over. It's 7.25am and it's minus 28. Ouch! I enjoy the sensation of inhaling through my nose as the walls of my nostrils stick together momentarily. I'm met at the station by a bloke from the hostel. This is pretty convenient. The city itself is in poor condition. The legacy of communism and it's recent conversion to the temple of mammon. The hostel is centrally located and well run. There are a few Yanks in residence so I remind myself to avoid politics.

A shower. Heaven. I embark on some quick sightseeing and in search of an ATM. I drop by two dozen banks and only find one. It's not compatiable with my debit card. Fortunately, my good friend who manages my UK banking had sent me a stack of cash while in Helsinki. Without this I would have been stuck. I had arranged a tour of Mongolia prior to my arrival and all that remained outstanding was to get a guide. She was due later so I went off for lunch. I ordered a meat soup and chilli beef. The waitress said it was too much so I dropped the beef order. The waitress was right. The soup was gigantic. A casserole dish worth. Practically contained the meat of a young calf. I struggled to finish it although it tasted good.

The guide came and tried to upsell another tour. The hostel owner is on holiday so I figured it was a case of the the mice playing when the cat was away. I refused. But the Mongolians are a kind hearted, gentle people. There is widespread knowledge of English. They are very much within the American orbit though. Euros are an alien currency.USD rules sadly. I can understand their alliance with the Yanks. If you have China below and Russia above then you really need a powerful friend.

I have observed too that the Mongolians have a keen sense of fun. Occasionally I thought a fight was breaking out on the street and more than once. It's a kind of horseplay. They like giving each other a dig and running off to be chased by the victim with the sore arm. It's all affectionate though. Must hark back to their warrior days. Tonight while I was ordering my bill at the bar, someone gave the waitress an almighty slap on the a*se and ran off into the kitchen, laughing all the way.

On the way back to the hostel I noted some blokes wrestling in the compound. I wanted to join them but realised it might be a risky thing to do at midnight. I quickly left the hsotel when I saw all theYanks were in watching US movies. I was careful to remove all valuables and went off to join the locals who I knew would offer better entertainment than some inane Hollywood film. They were good lads and very good wrestlers.It is a national pastime. One even demonstrated his 'breakdancing' skills to me which wasn't breakdancing at all. It involved running, and flipping 360 degress in the air and landing on his feet. Bear in mind how cold it is, bear in mind the icy conditions, bear in mind it was dark. A hardy lot.

The war of the rib appears over apart from some skirmishes. These take place at night. The ear remains blocked though.

trans-siberian express advice

Although I confess my advice is not authoritive or all embracing, I outline some of the things worth considering if the journey is something you wish to do.

1. Bring a wash hand basin stopper. It's important as filling up the sink is impossible without one and therefore washing yourself is too. Develop a routine for washing.
2. Take ample reading material. I read a book per day!
3. The train stops 5-6 times each day. Some times for as little as 4 minutes, sometimes for up to 45 minutes. Use the timetable to plan when to jump out and stretch the legs. Also, to buy provisions.
4. The daylight hours are for looking out the window. Night for reading or whatever.
5. It's a state of mind to be on a train for so long. Take every thing as it comes, do things slowly, savour it.
6. Don't expect too much. Whether it is the condition of the train itself, the dining carriage, the level of service, the lack of English speakers. Remember it's Russia, not your home town so act accordingly.
7. Writing is pretty difficult. The train rocks and swerves all the time so discount it as a method of passing time.
8. Take a map so you can figure out where you are. I see little merit in guide books. It's not a sightseeing exercise, more of an experience.

Not a definative list, I know but it may be useful to others. In short, I enjoyed the journey and the experience despite the challenges. I'm very glad I did it.

trans-siberian express day five

Up at 5.30am. Another beautiful day outside the glass, basked in sunshine. Snow everywhere, of course. I was chuffed to see that I was passing lake Baikal. Its colour is of the richest blue. It's the deepest lake in the world. Holds one-fifth of all the worlds fresh water. Quite amazing. I was envious of the people who own dacha's by its shore. I sat happily with my head resting on my hands and stared. For hours.

I thought this morning I would treat myself to a cooked breakfast. Getting bored of cheese sandwiches now. Ordered fried eggs. Again, it was expensive. My waiter hasn't changed his clothes since the journey began in Moscow either! That really enhances my appetite. I ordered the bill. This is where I believe the pencil comes into play. The prices went up overnight. Yesterday a coffee was 45 roubles, today it's 65. I know inflation is a problem in Russia but this is really too much. The margin of error in the addition of the items I ordered is also increasing. Cheeky b*stard! Nonetheless, I paid. I try to convey my understanding of his ruse through facial expressions. He doesn't mind, of course, as long as he pulls it off.

Got to the border with Mongolia. Here I worried. The visa registration thing and also, whether customs would give me sh*t as I hadn't made a declaration on entry to the country. I wasn't aware I had to! The stop was 4 hours and 40 minutes. 2 hours is needed to change the wheels of the train. Russia uses a different track guage to most other countries. Anyway, I filled out my customs exit declaration. He pointedly asked me whether I had any guns or narcotics. Of course, 'say hello to my little friend' and while your at it, have a toke of my joint.

They took my passport afterwards. Then I waited some 4 hours. All the time thinking whether they would note my registration omission and fine me. A lady, garbed in an initimating uniform, came to my cabin and asked me to confirm my name. I was ordered out of the cabin while a spritely young lady hopped around searching it. The passport lady, kind of sternly, passed me my passport and said good luck. The manner in which she said it reminded me of the scene from 'The Great Escape' when Richard Attenborough and the Scottish bloke try to board the bus! You know, the German checks their papers, allows them to proceed and then says 'Good Luck' and the Scottish bloke says 'Thank You'. They are rumbled. I figured it best to nod rather than reveal my crime. I'm sure there was a bunch of secret service agents ready to pounch if I send the wrong thing.

Weird to think my journey is almost over.

trans-siberian express day four

I'm the only person in the carriage now. It dawned on me this morning that I'm developing a philosophy about this adventure. Don't get me wrong, I am not unhappy or anything but I'm a social creature and without meaningful human contact, things can be difficult. Isolation isn't pleasant. Ask any prisoner.

Thing is I'm not a prisoner so a natural adaptation is taking place. The essence of it is that I choose to do this, it is a priviledge that few others have experienced (one of the longest train journeys in the world), it's a time to reflect, slow down, take things easy and just soak in the experience. Nuff said.

It's a bright, sunny, beautiful morning. Snow gently falling. Now this is Siberia. I thought of all the poor souls banished to this harsh place. I noted many industries along the trackside and wondered whether these were once gulags. There are many dacha's in many beautiful locations. I'm happy in my thoughts. But then I thought of the fact that I was down to my last book. Need reading material for the evenings. I thought about the passport situation too. I hadn't registered my visa in Moscow for a variety of justifiable reasons. God damn stupid requirement anyway. Liable for a 500 USD fine if they should choose to enforce it. I pressed on though.
It's funny about how we take things for granted. At various times during my travels I have craved for things. Toast, a newspaper, a crisp sandwich. Today I craved a shower. The bed sheets were irritating me too. Like an allergy but with no visiable symptoms. This confused me as it hadn't bothered me the previous nights. Then I made a discovery (probably baseless) that it was static electricity. The trains are powered by overhead electric cables. Oh, to be bored, to have too much time to think.

I went to the dining carriage. Another over-priced meal. I asked for the bill and he brought a pack of crisps! I ate the crisps and tried again to order the bill. Up to now, I had given little attention to the addition errors on my bill. They were small numbers and I do not believe in arguing over small sum of money. The errors were deliberate, that I am sure, but tonight, I noted that my waiter is getting more daring with the margin of error. When he hands me the bill, he has an anxious look to him, I play along and pretend to mentally added up its parts. I look at him before pronoucing okay. I bet he reckons I'm just a thick foreigner. No worries. These people earn little and who am I to get all hot and bothered over a euro. Moreover, it's amusing. I regard it as our game.

trans-siberian express day three

Up at 6am. Getting better at the stand up sponge cleaning operation in the swaying carriage. Not comfortable but necessary. The cold is biting but it's part of the course. Cheese sandwich and tea for breakfast. Nice. Did a little spring cleaning around the cabin. Feel organised and happy. All set for a day of staring out the window at the moving set. It's pretty much the same but still interesting to look at. I'm enj0ying it. So bright and clean looking.

The rib was less troublesome but right ear hole remained blocked. This has advantages when I sleep on my left hand side as the noise of the train is faint. But I wondered whether that could be a security risk too. Not that confident about the lock on the door. Hve taken to wearing my hat around the carriage. I realise I probably looked like a plonker but I care little about that. Once night desended I made my way to the dining carriage. Two course meal, 12 euro. Ouch! Returned to the cabin and read a whole book of F Scott Fitzgerald's short stories. Kind of ironic given the theme of his writing, wealth and adundance. I reorganised the bedding but didn't sleep well.

I realise a hard slog is still ahead.