Amarbayasgalant

I was up early this morning to meet my driver at 6 am. I asked his name, but lost it. We had a quiet ride, him knowing no English, and me no Mongolian. The road was paved until the last 35 km, and then it became a contest between the car and the road.

It was still very chilly when we arrived at Amarbayasgalant Khiid (Monastery), but soon the sun made it a pleasant morning.

This place, as all Buddhist monasteries in Mongolia, was decimated during the time of Choibalsan, who was a staunch Stalinist, and who purged the country of an estimated 100,000 intellectuals, political dissenters, and Buddhist monks. He was responsible for destroying almost all religious buildings in the country. This one survived somehow, and it's worth the trouble it took to get to it. The monastery itself was built entirely with wooden nails almost 300 years ago. At its height, there were about 3,000 monks living and studying there, but now the number is around 60. If you visit at the time of the prayer recitals, you are allowed to watch, and I saw mostly young men and boys, aside from the senior monk- but I don't think all of them were in attendance either.

And I have to throw in another toilet shot-

The monastery is in an incredibly beautiful (and remote) valley. There is a small group of houses and gers next to it, and there are a couple of ger camps for tourists in the valley. Aside from that, it's horses, cows, goats, and unending hills and mountains.

Darkhan

There's a big storm blowing in to Darkhan, but I'm safe and dry back at my hotel after a walk around town. I could see it coming in the northwestern sky and cut my explorations short because of it. From here it's beautiful but I wouldn't really care to be out in it.

My morning task was figuring out how to get to the Dragon Center, the name of the bus station from whence buses heading north and west out of UB leave. I wasn't able to find anything online, so as I walked to get coffee this morning, I took pictures of each of the bus stop lists and then tried to find any matches on Google maps. It took a while but finally I figured out that I should catch Bus 1. In case you're wondering, yes I asked, but no one seemed to know, or they couldn't understand what I was saying, more likely.

I had read that the cash fare is 500 tugrik, so when I got on, I had that in hand. But this particular bus, at least, does not accept cash, only U-cards- an electronic form of payment. At first the driver just said no, and I asked again, how much. He jerked his head back to indicate that I should just get on, and ride for free. He was gruff, but that was kind of him.

After riding what seemed like way too long, I went up to the front and asked "Dragon Center?" and miraculously he recognized it and indicated with his hand that it was still quite far ahead. Relieved for the moment, I went back to my perch on the front wheel well. I was wearing my money belt plus I had my passport and some money in zippered pockets, and of course, my bags. I felt a little conspicuous!

The Dragon Center is a typical busy regional bus depot in a country where buses are used by many. Easy peazy, I was on the bus to Darkhan. It had purple curtains and purple valances with little purple pom-poms, far more ornate than Greyhound would be.

I watched the scenery go by, dozed, and listened to music on my ipod. Once when I woke, I was just in time to see dozens of beehives beside the road, next to a ger, but not in time to get my camera out. I'm hoping to see some hives tomorrow on the road to the monastery. There was a TV show playing on the screen up front, but being in Mongolian, it was just background noise to me. Over the music in my earbuds I could hear the voices of my neighbors waxing and waning, and it was a pleasant thing. I felt as content as a cat sitting in the sun on the window ledge, which is pretty close to describing my posture in my seat.

Until, of course, we got close to Darkhan, and then the usual nerves about landing in a new place took over. I tried to tell myself it was no big deal, and in fact I know it's not, but I never fail to fret about it anyway.

Darkhan was established in 1961 to relieve migration to UB, with the idea that it would become an industrial center. At first as I walked around, I got the impression of a dilapidated semi-ghost town with crumbling Soviet style cement apartment blocks. There are many of those, it's true, but as the children came out to play after school, if I looked at the place as it is rather than in comparison to someplace else, I could see beauty and life everywhere. There are, of course, newer buildings as well, but blocks and blocks of peeling paint, stained concrete, rusting balconies, and overgrown 'yards.' I'm told that this is a big agricultural center now, and I did see for the first time some cultivation and machine powered work as we approached this city.

As I walked down the street one day. . .

Another walking day today, all around the center of UB. My feet are telling me about it now. One of the longer jaunts took me to the train station- if I figured out the buses, I could ride a bus there, but I'm leery of the tight quarters when I am carrying so much cash, plus I took my passport along for booking a ticket. Also I haven't figured out which bus goes where, and I'm not here long enough to bother.

The train ticket attempt was unsuccessful but interesting. I was sent from window 5 to window 3  and then to window 1 in search of someone who spoke English. The woman at 1 didn't either, but there was a very nice man who was purchasing his own ticket who translated for us. I was squashed up against the window, bent over to talk with the woman, the translator was immediately on my left, and there was a man about two inches from my right, and another directly behind me while we struggled to understand each other. I guess it was entertaining. Ultimately I gave it up- I was trying to book a leg between Darkhan and Dulaankhan (which I not only can't pronounce but also can't remember without having it written down) but that leg runs from 2 am to 6 am, and I'm pretty sure I don't really want to do that. On to plan B, which is most likely a shared ride or my own car/driver setup.

I was successful, however, in exchanging the remaining Chinese yuan I'd been carrying around at the train station. So then I had 500,000 tugrik in my bag, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable, even though I know it's only $200 US. 500,000 anything seems like at lot, doesn't it? I feel a little rich.

Tomorrow's challenge will be getting to the Dragon Center, from whence go the buses to Darkhan, with my bags, on a busy, crowded bus. I might just get a taxi, I don't know.

I walk around all day sounding out the signs in Cyrillic, but of course once I am successful at that, I still don't know what they say. But I can't stop.

You know how you don't know what you don't know until you come to know it? Well, for me and traveling, it's generally when it's too late to be useful information. A case in point- the place I'm staying. It's a disappointment, not as well located as I'd like, has almost none of the things I seek for in a hotel or guesthouse (except fast internet), and all that would be ok if it was what was available, as was the case in Ulgii.

I came here on the recommendation of a traveler I met on the train, and for two nights, it's ok. I will sound like I"m complaining by cataloging its shortcomings, but what the heck: no heat (I slept half in my sleeping bag under the one blanket last night and during the evening I had to put on my coat), no toilet paper provided, no common area to sit in, no chair in my room- on furniture except the bed and one end table, no frig in the kitchen, the walk back to it from the street is a little intimidating in the dark (and I don't think I'm that easily bothered by such things). I regret the choice, but it's only for two days, and not worth doing anything about. Onward, ho!

 The walk to my 'home' includes navigating a small river. :) This is especially fun in the dark.

These traffic cops delight me with their cadence, baton twirling and fearlessness

Do you spy what I spy? What a surprise to see this- and visit it later when it opened

Here's a souvenir I won't be bringing home.

My second coffee of the morning, in the top floor of the State Department Store, an apparent relic from days of Soviet influence. It was a lovely view over the city anyway.

There are street signs after all at a few intersections- you just have to know where to look for them.

Day's end

No one hugs each other here- it's always a handshake, for men and women. It's pretty sweet to see a person walk up to a group already convened, and then proceed to shake each person's hand before the conversation can continue.

Tonight for dinner I went to a restaurant that was recommended and also happened to be steps from the theatre where the cultural show had been. It calls itself an Irish Pub but I missed that part, I guess. There were multiple TV's with various sports on, but instead of a choice between baseball and football, there was judo, skeet shooting, and the WMBA.

I had decided to eat some familiar food after days of heavy cream, airag, mutton, yak butter, and chai, and give my belly a chance to find equilibrium. Wherever that is. I at least know where my bed is- good night!

Travel is hard work sometimes

I waited outside the hotel this morning for my ride, and when it was 10 minutes late, I was too anxious to wait longer. I walked over to the taxi stand (yes, it turns out there are taxis here, they're just incognito), and said "airport?" to the two drivers standing there. This precipitated a discussion where I tried to find out how much and the driver kept saying "aeroport, " even going so far as to start spelling it on his phone. At that point I said yes, yes, and reached over and hit the number key on his phone. So he held up ten fingers (for 10,000 tugrik) and I pretended to be aghast and laughed, telling him I only paid 2 (two fingers) to get here from the airport. Then he entered 8,500 in his phone and I took it and entered 5,000 and made a 'let's go' motion that I've had used on me before. He took it, laughing and talking to the other driver.

I know I still overpaid, but that's the price of being the foreigner, at the mercy of the only ride to the airport at 7:20 am.

To check in, I waded through the crowd at the only counter, and pointed to my name on the list, handing over my passport. My bags were weighed (17 kilos) and I was in like flynn. Except for security, where they scanned my bags three times and then wanted to take my tweezers and fingernail clippers. I objected and they conceded- this would not happen in the US!

We stopped over in Khovd, where a man in a stretcher was put on the plane, and a couple of Buddhist monks joined us, then on to UB without incident. I entertained myself taking photos out the window on the way to UB.

UB traffic is insane. It took us 1 1/2 hours to go less than 10 miles! I was getting really antsy by the time we got to the hostel, and then I needed to work out some onward details with the owner. I was impatient and frustrated, and by the time I left, in a hurry to make the 6 pm show at the National Theatre, I was in a foul mood. Then it occurred to me that the only food I'd had today was part of a cold cheeseburger on the plane this morning, and I had to laugh at myself.

The show was great, it included a lot of traditional dancing, throat singing and other singing, the National Orchestra, which plays traditional Mongolian instruments rather than conventional ones, and sounded fantastic, some pretty scary shamanist dances, and a contortionist that was incredible and really hard to watch as a result. I stopped to buy a DVD in the lobby afterward, but I had no US dollars with me, and not enough tugrik for the DVD and dinner, and- well, it had been a long time since that cold cheeseburger.

It seemed like a good time to have a Singapore Sling, so I did.

I stopped by Sukhbaatar Square on my way home-behind this structure is the national parliament. 

Your day is just beginning, and mine is in the books.