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Published: October 16th 2007
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On the tracks again, for another two nights, but that isn't so long, not when you've been for four nights, so we were well versed in the tradition of the vodka shot before bedtime and bathroom etiquette (i.e. bring your own toilet roll and never ever breathe in).
The difference was that our group of seven was becoming five, so we bid the Scotsmen adieu in Irkutsk. It's a strange thing when you meet strangers and spend weeks cooped up together, saying goodbye. So we did what most Irish people do in these poignant circumstances:
'Hah ha, if we run into ye in Thailand or Tokyo we're going to pretend we don't know ye!'
'Nae if we see ye first! We'll turn the corner and say, who's those folks?'
Punches were thrown, and all knew that a sad farewell had been bid.
And then as travellers do, we promptly forgot all about them and boarded the train to Ulaan Baatar.
When you're heading from Russia to Mongolia by train, you have lots of time to watch the landscape and you're dying to spot changes. That said, it all passes in real time, so the changes
Russian border station
Stuck here for many, many hours. Nice views. are subtle. Particularly if you take breaks like we did, stopping in Lake Baikal and Mongolia. Still you watch and listen to fellow travellers, observing the country you're travelling through.
Russia once we left the city was full of trees, and as it is autumn their leaves were changing, gold, red, orange. The bark of the birch trees were often silver, contrasting greatly. While vast tracts remain uninhabited, the human presence is to be felt, fields may be left run fallow, but you can see where crops once grew, and the many villages and towns cluster along the route. As you move from Siberia toward Mongolia the landscape changes, becomes less planted, rougher, even more beautiful in a way - trees grow where a seed was dropped by a bird, flocks of birds are more readily spotted, it seems wilder more natural, less inhabited.
The train chugs to a standstill at Naushki.
Much excitement - finally a border crossing! We sat around toasting the border crossing, our noses pressed against the window as the train chuffed in to the station. And we waited.
And waited.
Then we wished to toilet, but the toilets were closed
Hungry dogs
These guys were everywhere, and eternally optimistic! so we waited.
It was funny, ha, imagine they closed the toilets!
There were funny 'thud' and 'bang' noises. Three hours later we decided the toilet situation was critical and disembarked again.
Toilets still closed.
And curiouser still, we were the ONLY carriage left on the TRACKS.
NO ENGINE.
NO FELLOW PASSENGERS
Just lots of stray dogs and westerners along on the tracks.
Hilarity ensued.
We waited.
And waited.
Eleven hours later our carriage was shunted across the border.
Border Guards on both sides looked in the cabin - we were scared of the Russians and the occupants of all carriages, people of all ages from different countries conversed in broken EnglishSpanishFrenchAmericanDutchIrish about what should and should not be listed on the multiple forms.
And then the Mongolians boarded. Cowboy boots and short skirts, messy pony-tails in the hair, smiles and laughter. The entire carriage let out its breath, and the forms were laughed at - what hilarious English was employed, hardyhar.
Goodbye Russia. All the brave faces fell, and discussion ensued about the friendliness of the Mongolians - 'did you see her? she smiled!'
Naushka
Lampost And yet I miss Russia, the beautiful buildings, canals, sad faces, dodgy cars, being asked for my papers...
To sleep, and awaken in Ulaan Baatar. Our honcho met us at the station, 'Ouhi' a trendy, hip young law graduate who was obsessed with her weight and becoming Victoria Beckham (why I'll never understand, Ouhi has more cool in her little left toe than Ms. Beckham, but enough said). She brought us to our home on 'Peace Avenue' (aw).
Ulaan Baatar - outskirts are full of tents ('Gers') and haphazard houses. The Mongolians are a proud race, after all they used to rule the world, and Ghenghis (or Chingis - and Khan means King) is their hero, a new statue erected in front of the Parliament in the past year or so. Their natural history museum houses magnificent specimens of dinosaur bones and eggs, unsurprising as many of these were excavated in the Gobi desert. They are fun loving, spiritual people. We visited a Mongolian Buddhist Monastery, where Monks can join from the age of three (seriously, baby Monks are so sweet), and Alan said Ouhi was overwhelmed in the presence of the twenty six metre, eighty tonne statue
Sukh Baatar
Our lonely carriage loiters on the tracks on the Mongolian side of the border of Buddha housed in the main temple building, 'so strong and so beautiful' she kept repeating again and again.
We went to see a performance of music and dance, it was amazing. The influence of Mongolia stretches to contemporary cinema soundscapes, and we could hear parallels with traditional sean nós singing.
And to the Ger camp where we spent two magnificent evenings. It was a privilege to live in the beautiful surroundings of a national park. We trekked with horses (my one had to sit down half way through - I should have avoided eating so much food for breakfast) across the most beautiful of landscapes - dramatic mountains strewn with snow. Visited a Nomadic family and ate their food (although we did feel a little as though we were trespassing - and then you feel guilty for the tourist trade must add greatly to their income... the usual traveller/tourist guilt syndrome - dull to anyone except the people going through it...). Each day we ate Mongolian food which is very meat heavy and stodgy, making the Irish stew seem like a lemon souffle in comparison, not to say we didn't enjoy it.
Back in the city
Sukh Baatar
Aoife disembarks into the Mongolian night. The optimistic dogs dutifully assemble. we had Mongolian bar-b-que, and it was heavy on the vegetables for everyone. The chefs delighted us with their impressive dexterity with broccoli and acrobatics.
And ever onward. To the next border crossing.
To Beijing.
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Helen
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These are great photos! I like the little house!