Money makes things go

Our late arrival in Ulaan Bataar (UB) put a real crimp in my plans because I fly out at 6:40 tomorrow morning, and have only this evening to get some key things done. I need to pick up some cold weather supplies, and the only place I have read of in UB supposedly closes at 6. I catch a taxi to the hotel I booked the day I left Beijing, very glad now that I did that and can avoid the dance of finding a spot to drop my bags and run. But it’s rush hour, and we poke through traffic at a maddening pace. Realizing the futility of fighting this, and certain it will somehow work out, I try to observe UB instead. It has a lot more high rise buildings than I had expected; conversely, on the outskirts you see whole neighborhoods comprised of gers (yurts) enclosed in fences, clearly the home of many UB residents.

I was hungry, having not had anything since a small breakfast, and feeling so grungy- my last shower two days before in Beijing, but I scurry back out the door to find an ATM, where I foolishly only take 50,000 tugrik, not yet understanding the exchange rate. To do this I stand in line with others who happily peer over the shoulder of the person transacting business at the ATM, and even reach over and press a button for them from time to time. This only makes me sweat harder.

The traffic officers at busy intersections are masters of their art. Their use of their whistles had an appealing cadence that lent almost an aura of ceremony and performance as they stood bravely in the middle of the intersection in the deepening gloom of night, amongst multiple lanes of traffic, all jockeying for position (lane markers are ignored), and only years of custom must protect them from unvigilant drivers. Other ingrained habits- while there are names for streets on the map, none are marked. I’m told that directions are known by landmarks rather than street names. I used the same system myself coming back from my errands- I soon saw the ultra modern crescent moon-shaped high rise, and knew where I was.

I raced down the street to where my map says the store I need is, and I hear the lock click into place as I reach my hand out to pull the handle. Blessings on the woman who opened back up and motioned me in. I so very much do not want to be cold in the mountains, and I also don’t want to miss out on experiences because I am not equipped to survive them. I breathed easier then, and went back to the room to shower. But first I checked email and discovered that I had a series of work emails demanding immediate attention many hours previously, so I spent my remaining time alternately working, showering, eating bread and cheese (sad, I know- but it was dark, I was in a hurry, and watching the diminishing hours allotted to sleep). I fell into bed at 11:30, exhausted from last night’s sojourn at the Chinese border, and woke up to my alarm a little after 4. Sleep, they say, is overrated. That’s what I’m telling myself for now.

In the process of doing a little repacking this morning, I could not find about $1,000 US dollars that I’ve been carrying with me for use in the more remote area of Mongolia. I was alarmed because I don’t know if there are ATM’s in Ulgii, and I know for sure most places won’t take a card. So I asked the guy at the front desk, who speaks a little English, if he can tell the taxi driver to stop at an ATM. Standing at the ATM, I choked a little at hitting the 500,000 Tugrik button, I now have cash. I stood there with my finger poised over the button, remembering that the exchange rate at the hotel was 2,425 Tugrik to the dollar, I think I took out about $250.

Meanwhile I kept wondering where that money might have been taken, when all of a sudden I remember putting it in my blue document holder. It’s odd, I never carry much cash around at home, but it’s unavoidable on a trip like this, so I try to divide it up and secure it, working at staying vigilant when I’m out and about, and locking my bag before I leave my room. This morning was a bit unsettling, and then it was just humbling.