Questions and answers

I know how to ask certain questions- for instance "gde voksal?" is how I asked where the train station is. But understanding the answer is another thing altogether. So far, Russians I have had 'conversations' with all tend to react the same way when they discover I can't speak or understand Russian- they just keep talking more, adding more words to explain what I clearly did not understand. It's well intended, but fruitless. And sometimes funny. But the kindness behind the effort is very clear, and helps to ease any sense of confusion or panic.

I did eventually find the train station, and got my ticket to Irkutsk, supposedly a window seat on the lake side of the train- I looked up the words ahead of time, wrote them down, and repeated them three different times- the clerk seemed to understand, and, true to form, said a lot more words back at me. I wanted to laugh when, after sliding my ticket to me through the window slot, she took the time to point out the different items on the ticket and explained them to me- in Russian. I thanked her multiple times for her kindness, and went away completely mystified. Fortunately, there are web sites that explain the tickets.

Wandering

Waiting for the tram

Clay, your brethren stole your color scheme

Coal as far as I could see in both directions

Yesterday was special- I don't know why, but I know it was because there were fireworks just out my window last night, and a band that played me to sleep.

Ulan Ude on arrival

Yesterday when I arrived in Ulan Ude, despite the map making it look close, I had no idea how to find my hotel, and ended up in a taxi, the driver talking in Russian and me in English. By his good graces, we arrived at the hotel, and in retrospect, I could have walked. At least my hotel is tall enough to be seen from far away, and I used that later in the afternoon as I wandered in the rain.

Parsing the menu in order to get some food

This is what an attorney is here-advokat, or advocate

Even Lenin got wet.

 Caught without an umbrella

It turns out today is Sunday, which should not have caught me by surprise, but did. So the tour offices are closed today, and I'd hoped to set up a visit to an Old Believer Village. Instead I am exploring the city, and hopefully booking train tickets for the last (oh no!) leg of my trip.

There's a pearl in my oyster

Last evening the host of this little place invited me to tea, mushroom caviar, and google translate conversation- that's how we've been communicating since I arrived here, sweaty, lost, ruble-less and seeking a room. She was quite proud of the mushroom/vegetable spread she made, and served it to me with some homemade bread- delicious! It was not quite 9 pm and I was sooo tired, but we sat and looked at photos and talked using her phone for a while.

People are the most amazing gift of travel.

Postscript- this morning she is cleaning my room around me, I assume because she leaves at 9 am. But I am told nothing is open yet-too early for coffee at 8:30 am. Lucky for me I accidentally slept in this morning.

Post-postscript (I always wanted to do one of those)- now the woman who brought me here, and is here with her son, tells me she is from Kazakhstan, and asks me to carry a letter to the UN for her. More and more interesting! Meanwhile the relief worker has come in and she and Marina (the host who served me tea) are conferring quietly, and I want to say goodbye and thank you to her before I go for coffee, but don't want to interrupt. The only way out is past them, and they have closed the door. Ah, the things I don't know...

More of Mongolia

Mongolia has a lot of space and not a lot of people. Nearly every ger I saw had a small solar panel, and many also had a satellite dish. The solar is primarily for cell phone charging because cell phones are ubiquitous in Mongolia just as they are at home. Running water, electricity, and central heat, though, are not really important to a well-lived life here. I saw a basketball hoop, sometimes home-made, beside a lot of gers. In the small towns, there always seemed to be a well-maintained soccer field- although they look smaller than our regulation size field.

Even though they drive on the right side of the road as we do, almost all cars have the driver's seat on the right. I can't tell you how many times I started for the passenger side only to realize I was headed for the driver's seat.

Farewell to Mongolia

We drove to Dulaankhan this morning, and found the bow and arrow shop, but alas, the owners are in UB today, and it was locked up.

Bukhchuluun clearly wanted to make it up for me, but what could he do? Between our shared phrasebook, a little Russian, and charades, we've managed to exchange some information. He has two children, about 14 and 17 years of age. We saw some chickens, and I told him I have 2, and he said he has 6. Thus important demographics are established.

The Sukhbaatar market was nearly a bust as well, except I saw these things- which I can't identify, but would have loved to.

So on to Altanbulag, where I expected to ease myself out of Mongolia, but no, suddenly there it was, the border, and I was paying Bukhchuluun, and offering him the phrasebook so he can use it with other English speakers. He was very kind, he negotiated for me with a taxi driver (you can't walk across the border), and stayed and watched until our car finally pulled into the lane for Mongolian formalities. In all the haste, I didn't even wave goodbye. I was sad to leave Mongolia, especially so unexpectedly and suddenly.

Land border crossings seem to have a few things in common. They are tedious, long, and potentially hazardous, even for the innocent. They are not set up to facilitate commerce and tourism as are those in airports, and you are sometimes at the mercy of the particular officer you interact with.

By luck of the draw, I got to watch a smuggling operation- I kid you not. It's only clothes-socks, hats, sweaters, and pants, and they seemed to be high quality. There were four of us in the van, and the driver must have known the other two, because before long they were all working themselves into at least 3 sweaters/tops, and being stuffed with socks and hats underneath all that, and then their own jacket on top. The Mongolian customs person saw it and just smiled. When I saw the taxi driver appraising me I pretended not to notice and just strolled away. By the time we got in line for the Russia side, whatever didn't fit on anyone was stuffed in some compartment in the dash.

The whole process took 3 1/2 hours, and much of it was spent just sitting or standing, waiting for our turn. My bag was of interest, but when they saw me, and as soon as I opened it just a little, each time they just walked away. Apparently I don't fit the smuggler profile. My fellow van riders got a laugh out of it though.

(I found out when we got out the other side that the driver had on three pairs of pants under her sweat pants.)

So much for having it together- I failed to take all that time we were sitting to make sure I knew where I was headed in Khyakta, and so I got dumped by the taxi driver shortly after the border- not that I blame her. My 8,900 tugrik were for the border crossing, not a real taxi ride.

I was lost, and looked it, and for some reason a woman with her son took pity on me. I don't know much of what she said, but I believe she said to come with her (I did) and she would pay for the ride (she did- I had a few rubles but god knows where at that moment in time) and she delivered me here to the Tourist Hotel. It's functional, and clean, and will serve for the night. I forgot every single word of Russian that I know (which is not a lot) for a half hour, and felt like an idiot. I'm pretty sure I looked like one too, but I was taken in hand and delivered kindly. How many of us would do that for a lost-looking, non-English speaking person who showed up on their own in our town? I planned poorly for this landing, and got lucky. Mostly I planned poorly because I had not expected to actually cross the border today. I had thought I'd spend the night in Sukhbaatar or Altanbulag, but it became clear that didn't make sense. I should have then taken the time to do a bit of rearranging, but I did not.

ATM card wouldn't work in the machine here, so I exchanged some dollars- I'm hoping that it will work in Ulan-Ude, but if not I think I can go into a bank and do a withdrawal as a cash advance- or wash dishes for some money! I hope to find a place to exchange my extra tugrik- which I thought I'd need for my last night in Mongolia but alas, no such last night.

Flying by the seat of my pants

As soon as we got to the blacktop, we stopped for some food here-

We had met a few other tourists at the monastery. Of them, two ladies from Belgium had a guide with them who spoke both English and Mongolian, and she was able to help bridge the gap between my driver and me. She was curious how I'd gotten there on my own, and what my plans are. When I told her what I want to do next, she suggested to both of us that he drive me tomorrow. We left it at that, but then sitting at lunch, I pulled out my Mongolian phrasebook and map, and we were able to agree on a plan, a price, and a starting time! I am so very pleased at how this has worked out- I was going to try to take a bus, and then perhaps another bus, or find a ride, but it had the risk of me getting stranded and/or losing a day. Also, on the bus, you can't stop for, well, anything much.

So at 8 am tomorrow, we are off to Dulaankhan to see the bow and arrow factory (we hope), then on to Sukhbaatar to see the market and maybe part of the town, and then finally, he will take me to Altanbulag, the town on the Mongolian side of the border with Russia. In Altanbulag there is an old Russian church, which requires crossing the border to see. I got a double entry visa for just this purpose- I'll go in, back out to Mongolia, and then cross into Russia on my way to Ulan Ude, probably the next day. I'm mostly winging it on this part of the trip.