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Published: October 18th 2007
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All aboard!
This was the Chinese train that would take us to Beijing on the final leg of our journey. We were delighted to have completed the trio of Russian, Mongolian and Chinese trains. Final stretch on the train - to Beijing from Ulaan Baatar. We awoke early and made our way to the station, sad to be leaving Mongolia. At one point we thought about staying longer, but the tickets were booked and being backpackers, we wanted to make good use of them. Still promises to return were made.
The nature of this journey, where we're travelling a vast yet specific journey in a limited amount of time, has meant that the people we've met, often more than once along the way, have become a key, if unexpected, part of the experience.
Take a plane ride for example - it's natural enough to spend some time thinking about the coincidences and series of events that brings a specific plane-load of passengers to take a flight to a destination on a specific date. Sometimes I've talked to the person sitting next to me, or maybe a few fellow passengers in the departure lounge and the reason for the trip might come up. But nothing prepared me for the chat on the Trans-sib/mongolian.
On this journey, by virtue of the fact that we've spent so long on the train, talking to fellow passengers
A view of the desert.
The Gobi desert from the train. and hearing their plans has been inevitable. And to be fair, there is generally a low level of stunned incredulity from most passengers (ourselves included) at the fact that we are actually on the train after so much planning and daydreaming about the journey that everyone is dying to tell you all about their plans. Of course, for many travellers, Mongolian traders and Moscovites on business, returning soldiers, this may not be a motivation - often they talk to you due to boredom (we sit with our eyes peeled but I imagine this is just like taking the train to Cork extremely slowly for them), or curiosity.
And so it came to pass that on our last stretch, where the direct train to Beijing goes only twice a week, many of our old 'friends' made over the past few weeks were on the same train with us. Indeed the five of us had joked that this might happen, and couldn't contain our laughs and hoots when 'business man Mark' from America ended up coming to visit our cabins - this guy works in 'synergy' according to his business card, and had been a little disappointed with Mongolia (a very
Trans Mongolian
The train snakes around a bend en route to China chilled out country in our experience) due to the lackadaisical organisation of the nomadic family visit (!) and had planned a 10 kilometre run for himself instead (I imagine his shorts made a most becoming outfit on the Mongolian steppes).
We made new friends too and enjoyed the usual chat when you hear why people of all ages, backgrounds and nationalities had undertaken this adventure and where they planned to go next. I spent a good hour chatting in French and English to a Parisian retiree and Canadian/English man about dinosaur bones and such forth. Then I stared out into the Gobi desert and thought how glad I was that we had taken this route, and then my thoughts swiftly moved to how glad I was that we had bought water as all the sand was making me terribly thirsty. And then I stared out for awhile longer. And a while longer.
Steve, (heretofore referred to as the Aussie) interrupted my deep ponderings with exciting news about the decor in the dining car, so we headed off to explore with some trepidation as previous adventures with ladies of the night in the Russian train had made me a
The Mongolian dining car
Alan and Chris enjoy the opulence of the Mongolian dining car, if not the food. little nervous.
He wasn't wrong - the decor was amazing, the walls were festooned with latticed wood, golden Deer heads, bows and arrows and ornate drapes and carpets. The food was an aside in such sumptious surroundings - Alan asked for the sausage and the waiter leaned into his ear and informed him in conspiratorial tones that Sir might like to try something else as it 'is not good, not good at all.' Chris our American friend, was sorely tempted to try the 'Morning Complex' but as a vegetarian he was not sure of its meat content (Mongolians like to serve meat with meat and a side helping of meat) he regretfully declined.
The day drifted by and by evening a frisson of excitement was in the air (perhaps due to lack of oxygen as the windows stayed firmly shut through the desert - as Alan discovered when leaning out to take a photo, a mouthful of sand is not that tasty) and people stood in the passageways arguing and discussing what time we were due to arrive at the border.
In fairness, you might wonder why we were so perplexed by the time - could we
Mongolian dining car
Fancy! This car was replaced with a less photogenic Chinese dining car once we crossed the border. not have just checked a watch?
The confusion arose as on the Transmongolian it is ALWAYS Moscow time, and this was arguably seven or eight hours behind real time. I say arguably due to the multiple discussions and arguments I overheard about daylight saving hours, timezones, lonely planet guidebook timezones versus other timezones and goodness knows what else. Suffice to say, we arrived at the border somewhere between 12pm Moscow time and 10pm China time...
And again, everyone was a little nervous about their visas, customs declarations. We had all been through Russia, what would Chinese authorities be like? Someone spotted uniforms and the rumour mill went up and down the carriages - 'the soldiers are boarding.'
Minutes passed and then we heard the professional economic steps of officialdom coming towards our carriage - the Border guard stood in our doorway and paused.
'WELCOME TO CHINA' he said, and beamed, taking our passports. We smiled back, Russia a fading memory.
Then the excitement began. Previously I have described the waiting at borders, often ten or more hours. At least this time our carriage took flight with us on it.
Forget Harry Potter and Platform
Mongolia
Still in Mongolia - A Soviet relic in a dusty desert town eleven and seven quarters, try the Transmongolian for size. Due to the fact that the width between the gauges is different from Mongolia through to Russia, they have to 'lift and separate' each carriage to change the 'bogies'. What this meant in our case was that each carriage was shunted into a big warehouse and lifted up in the air. The carriages were parallel to one another, which meant we could see a carriage mid-air while we remained on the ground, and then we were slowly lifted up in the air while they headed towards the ground. Much waving and photographing ensued.
Later we were shunted back to the main line and reattached. To the staff working this is just one other part of their job. The the crazy cabin-fever passengers it was a great adventure. And then we disembarked for a wander around the station, 'Erlian'.
'Did you see the selection of POT NOODLES?' swarming passengers said
'And they have RICE WINE here, and FRUIT TOO' others said
'LOOK AT THAT - they have COKE spelt in CHINESE' I heard a man say
'MANDARIN' his wife said.
'What darling? Where? I'd love an
Changing the Bogeys
A neighbouring carriage is borne aloft to have its wheels changed! orange' he replied.
'HAHA' Alan said 'do you fancy CHICKEN RING?'
'Or maybe seaweed flavoured crisps' I hooted.
And the staff looked on.
When we came to pay they had the last laugh.
'One dollar' they said. It seemed as though every crisp/noodle/chocolate item cost a dollar apiece. The Americans were loving it.
And we thought this was great value. Ha. Little did we know!
xx
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john
non-member comment
Chicken Ring
Great to see the ever resourceful chinese making good use of the parts no one else wants!