Out and About with Scottley

London transit

2006-08-28T17:41:00.000-07:00

1:37 am, Radisson Hotel, Stansted Airport, London Outskirts.

Not a bad place to hole up for several hours to wait for my 3am shuttle to Heathrow.

Iceland is behind me, ending with a spectacular weekend trip with Karl around the south coast. The pictures should be up and commented by the time you read this. Thanks, Karl- it was great to see you.

By the time they're awake in NYC, I'll be inbound for Dulles. I'll be at my folks house on Long Island by 5pm.

My trip isn't over. I'll just be in the USA for a while. I think a more internal, introspective phase is due to begin. It will be nice to have a home base.

Around the world. Fuck me.

Iceland is funny

2006-08-24T07:13:00.000-07:00

You can buy vibrating cock rings at the grocery store checkout stand (right next to the chewing gum and tabloids), but they don't have knockout combo cold medicine like NyQuil.

Dinner tonight. . .

2006-08-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

. . .consisted of smoked puffin breast as an appetizer- followed by two succulent rare minke whale steaks, with a lovely pepper sauce. After a bottle of Spanish Rojia, don't even ask what that cost.

What catches you off guard is the fact that whales are mammals. You expect fishy seafood and wind up with what amounts to super tender, slightly gamey, delicious, floating cow.

Long live the moral management of our oceans' resources.

Iceland

2006-08-14T17:39:00.000-07:00

I made it. Much coolness. Heathrow was a bitch.

Went with Karl and his buddies to see Miami Vice. Probably the best looking piece of crap since The Hulk. What a shitty movie.

More later, I'm on Moscow time, still.

This should be interesting

2006-08-10T04:05:00.000-07:00

Jeeze. Couldn't they wait just one more month to try to blow up planes?

I'm due into Heathrow on Sunday. I'm due to fly out from Stansted on Monday for Iceland.

I have no idea if my flight is going to go ahead or what the situation will be like at the airport. My chances of finding a room for the night of my layover are also now probably nil from all the people who will be stuck in Lonon. Maybe I can call in a favor from some contacts I have in London-- if I get there.

On the bright side, I'm finding Moscow to be completely pleasant. The tourists have annoyed me away from the otherwise impressive Kremlin area, but the rest of the city and the museums all seem very chill. The subway is by far the best I have ever travelled. Collectively, the system's stations are works of art to rival the tourist traps at the Kremlin. My average wait time for a train is one minute. I've never waited more than three. Classy.

The city is busy and bustley, but it has a nice hushed quality to it. The cars are generally in good repair (the traffic noise is low), and there's plenty of room for everyone. Maybe they're all out in Siberia on vacation.

Correction

2006-08-10T03:44:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, July 20 was posted the following statement:

Yesterday ended with a teary farewell between Jen and I as we finally found the proper platform at the Beijing station, after nearly an hour of frantic running around. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, Jen's been my constant companion for over a month now and it's odd not having her easy company around.

Looking back, it seems that the moniker "constant companion" had already been assigned to Isabel on June 27.

With that and with the true nature of our time together in mind, I would like to issue the following correction:

Yesterday ended with a teary farewell between Jen and I as we finally found the proper platform at the Beijing station, after nearly an hour of frantic running around. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, Jen's been my Mongol-Sino flame for over a month now and it's odd not having her easy company around.

The staff at Out and About with Scottley apologise for any misunderstanding.

Русская викторина! Russian Quiz

2006-08-06T01:19:00.000-07:00

Привет моий друзыа! Сечас Русская викторина!

Hello, my friends! Time for the Russian Quiz!

I head to Moscow on Tuesday. While I head there, try this:

Describe three characteristics of Russian toilets.

A Roiser Russia

2006-08-02T23:37:00.000-07:00

Within an hour after my last post, everything turned around.

I arrived at my homestay to be warmly greeted by Galina and Alec. They're a cheery couple in their mid fifties who own a 3 bedroom house that they rent out. I would be having the whole place to myself. Galina showed me around, while Alec went out past their lovely garden to prepare their баня for me. Many Russian country houses have a banya, or as we would call it back home, a sauna. Rashit, my travel fixer, and my hosts all assured me that a good banya and a home cooked meal would make me feel a lot better. They were right.

After I made myself comfortable, I went down and Alec showed me how to use their banya. He had a hot fire stoked in the oven and the room was already at 48C (115F). He showed me the cold water tank that I could use for a cold water shock and how to add eucalyptus oil to the steam rocks. He also showed me the bundle of leafy birch branches that I could flog myself with "to make me strong". Alec left me to my banya and I alternated between oozing sweat and bracing against the cold water I would pour over myself. The house has no hot water, but that's okay, because you can shower in the banya. A little soap and some water warmed on the oven and you're clean in no time. Of course, it's 50C throughout your shower, so you emerge a bit sweaty, but it's a good clean sweat that dries to make your skin feel soft and fresh.

Leaving the banya at peace, I entered the house at the kitchen to find Galina cooking up a storm. Before me was laid a banquet. Alec and Galina sat and chatted with me as I ate. Every time I paused from my eating for more than a moment to say something, they both chimed in with a gently urging "kushit, kushit" indicating that I should "keep eating". When I was finally too full to continue, I had devoured two omul cutlets (a local delicacy fish, prepared by "babushka"-- Alec's mother), half a roast chicken, a cucumber, half a tomato, two helpings of mashed potatoes, a slice of omul filled pastry, a glass of fortified wine, a slice of cake (also a la babushka), and two lettuce leaves.

Unlike the blokes on the train, I found talking with my hosts to be easy and pleasureable. While the meal wound down, I looked at my watch to see that I'd been having a complete conversation purely in Russian for over an hour. Galina was especially great to talk with, she had great patience as I disjointedly constructed my sentences, letting me speak while occasionally adding a polite correction. When she spoke, she spoke clearly and slowly and took plenty of time to explain words that I didn't understand.

It was about 10pm and my belly and heart were near overflowing with homecooked goodness. I went upstairs and fell promptly to sleep.

The next morning, Galina was there and at the ready to stuff me again over breakfast. Under her steady kushits I packed in 5 blini (wide, thin pancakes served with smetana, sour cream), 2 fried eggs, several slices of salami and cheese, a big bowl of hot kasha (grain porridge, in this case wholemeal barley), topped off with copious cups of black tea.

The extra blini went in a tupperware container as snacks for my trip. After we finished breakfast, I had just enough time to crap out my dinner before Tollik arrived to take me down to the docks.

The boat trip was fun, of course you'll have to wait for the captioned pictures for most of the story. I decided to cut it short after one night, we woke up to steady rain that seemed like it would last for a while. We packed up camp and headed back-- I was happily greeted with yet more food and a cleansing (and core warming) banya. The weather didn't improve until this afternoon, so I'm happy we didn't stay out in the wet for another night.

Tomorrow, I get to hang around here for one more day, waiting for the boat to take me to Irkutsk. I may go swimming, or perhaps go chat with a kindly local artist I met the other day. I'll just hang out.

Irkutsk sounds like a decent town, with lots of fellow travellers and facilities. I don't think I'll linger too long though. I'll have to see what the flight to Moscow situation is when I arrive.

Derailed

2006-07-30T23:34:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of the train. I've put in my time, it's all very interesting, but it kills me to see the world rolling by while I go stir crazy and have to have the same monosyllabic conversation with yet another drunk russian miner.

So I'm here in Severobaikalsk, on the banks of the world's deepest lake. I've met a travel agent who can fix me up with a 4 day tour via hiking and sea kayak, a bit pricey but it sounds good. It comes with a guide who follows me in a motor boat and cooks for me and everything. In fact, this guide is sitting right here with me now as I type it. He seems like a good dude, he just brought me doughnuts and a coke.

I have to decide in the morning if I really want to go on this trip. The thing is, being alone with no one to speak with (my guide has really no english), out for four days in the wild sounds depressing right now. My understanding agent agreed that I can call things off in the morning and get my money back, he's being very understanding.

In the meantime, I'm moving this afternoon to a private home that I'll have all to myself in the nearby town of Nizhneangarsk, a small settlement on the north tip of the lake. Tonight a local woman will set up the banya (sauna) for me and cook me dinner. Hopefully some private relaxation tonight will point my way.

Chugging on

2006-07-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

Written on 29.07.2006 at 10:55am

Posting from a dial up connection at the train station in Tynda, on the Baikal-Amur Magistral line.

Decided to leave Khabarovsk two nights ago, to take the 31 hour trip onward up here. While I'm gone, Tatiana at the fantastic Dalgeo Tours is looking into apartments and Russian instructors for me back in Khabarovsk. If I see something I like, I may go back.

On the other hand, I just bought my ticket to go tomorrow morning for the 24 hour ride to Seiveralbaikalsk, where there's lots of boat and mountain activities waiting for me. It's possible that something there will tickle my fancy and I'll stick around.

-- just got my email from Tatiana. Khabarovsk will be too expensive to linger in. I guess I'm moving on.

The train trip was easy. I had mixed bouts of contentment and stir-craziness. The 1 year old kid sharing my cabin was both amusing (sometimes), annoying (other times) and unbearably bawly (often enough!)

Arrived last night in the middle of the night. Dodgy place, a train station in the middle of the night. A few stories there. As usual, no time to write them now. The kid's mother, 28 year old Lena, has offered to drive me around today to see Tynda's sights. We're due to meet in 5 minutes.

Ciao.

Wandering Jew Hopes Renew

2006-07-26T05:43:00.000-07:00

Got thrown for a loop today. I visited the capital of the Russian Jewish Autonomous Region, Birobidzhan. The Region was set up by the Russian gov't in 1938 as a "homeland for the Jews" before Israel was anywhere close to being founded. The Russian gov't was trying to entice Jews to move to there so that they wouldn't have to deal with pogroms (some of which they had a hand in). It a decent arrangement, as the Jews were allowed to run the local government and establish a relatively untampered life, despite the fact that officially the synagogue and Hebrew schools were closed.

Birobidzhan is a lovely place, lots of trees, a beautiful riverside area and a general tranquility. Of it's 90,000 residents, only about 4,000 Jews remain, some 18,000 having left for Israel after the Soviet Collapse. Still, the main street is named Shalom-Alechem Blvd and all of the food stores in town are called "Tzimmes", written in Hebrew and Hebrew styled Cryrillic letters. The town's mayor is Jewish and the area seems proud (jew and gentile alike) of it's special heritage.

After investigating the city and synagogue, my wonderful tour guide, Galina arranged for me to have a personal meeting with the 81 year old director of the Jewish Society, Lev Gregoryevich Toytman. He shook his fist at me in humourous dissapointment when he told me that if only I had contacted him first, my trip to Harbin would have been VERY different. It turns out I missed everything.

In Harbin, there's a new synagogue. There's an active Jewish museum. There's lots of records. There's many people there who would have been happy to host me and show me around and take care of me as their honoured guest. Lev Gregoryevich is very connected with the Harbin community. Just last week, while I was there, was an international gathering of Jews from Harbin which he attended. All this, right under my nose with no way of knowing.

So I'm stuck. A large part of me wants to return to Harbin to finish what I started. Already here in the Russian far east, I've found a taste of the trail to one of my ancestors. If I go back to Harbin, I feel like I might really find something special-- not to mention the fact that it sounds fun to go there and be the guest of the local community. I could go down there, stay for a bit, then return to the US via Beijing.

On the other hand, this means leaving Russia and I can't return since my visa only allows one entry. That would mean giving up on the language study I've been cultivating for months now. It also means giving up on seeing the rest of the country by rail, stopping to meet Alex in St. Petersburg, and seeing Karl in Iceland this season (of course, I could just as easily fly there from NY after Velma's wedding).

A compromise has popped into my head. If I can rent a flat here in pleasant Khabarovsk for a few weeks and find a Russian teacher, I can stay immersed here, relax and chill out for a while and then go down to Harbin. That way I could get my Russian experience and still get to visit Harbin properly. I'm going down to the travel agent first thing in the morning and see if this is something they can set up.

Other options include a shorter loop on the Trans-Sib (although I don't really see the point), popping off to Sakhalin Island (as suggested by Rich), or maybe even Japan.

Mmmmm, Japan. I could really go for some sushi about now.

Коля в Россие

2006-07-25T02:08:00.000-07:00

Sitting in an Internet cafe in Хабаровск (Khabarovsk), waiting for some software to download that can hopefully unformat my camera's memory card which used to contain a months worth of pictures from Mongolia, China and my entry into Russia.

Karl, I know you're going to post a comment asking how I managed to format my memory card. It was a stupid accident on my part-- leave it at that.

Last Saturday, I arrived at the Chinese border town of Suifenhe. Getting off the train, I was trying to get some Russians to help me, but they were all travelling in an organized tour so that they didn't have to worry about things like how to find the border and how to get a bus to Vladivostok.

I was on my way to ask a taxi to take me to the border when I heard, "Excuse me, do you speak English?" Turning around, I met Alex, a Belgian

Thank Gods for Hong Kong Kung-Fu

2006-07-21T01:01:00.000-07:00

While on the bus to Beijing, on the train to Harbin, in my hotel room last night and this morning, entertainment salvation in China comes in the form of Hong Kong Kung-Fu movies. You're really lucky if they bother to add English subtitles (we're at about 50-50 at this point).

Doing some research, I've managed to find the titles that I've seen

"Fong Shi Yu II: Wan fu mo di" or "The Legend 2" -- starring Jet Li in 1993
"Hak Hap" or "The Black Mask" -- also starring Jet Li in 1996
"Du shen xu ji" or "God of Gamblers 2" -- starring Chow Yn Fat in 1994

I also saw another awesome one last night, but it didn't have any famous (that I know of) actors for me to search on. I'll keep looking. In the mean time, if you manage to find any of these flicks, check them out, they're great!

Now is sooner than never

2006-07-21T00:19:00.000-07:00

Big progress!

With a lot of time to kill here in Harbin, I've managed to finish the audio and captioning on my Bangkok photos. Go take a look!

Harbin

2006-07-20T02:26:00.000-07:00

What's left of the former synagogue here is now now the home to a fast food pizza restaurant and a chinese holistic medicine center. The exteriors are impressive, but there seems to be nothing left of the jewish community that once lived here in the first half of the century. If I spoke Chinese, it might be possible to find out a bit more, but Harbin is not Beijing and there's a lot less English going on.

Yesterday ended with a teary farewell between Jen and I as we finally found the proper platform at the Beijing station, after nearly an hour of frantic running around. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, Jen's been my constant companion for over a month now and it's odd not having her easy company around.

As it was, I made it to the train a moment before it cast off. I dashed on board in the wrong compartment and had to wait 10 minutes panting for the train to get fully underway before they opened the doors to my car. Eventually, I found my berth and settled in to what might be the poshest train in China. The "Z15-16: National Youth Model Train" was a big step up from the creaky (but comfortable) train we took down from Ulaanbaatar. It looked like it was on its maiden trip, the interior was modern, electronic and spotless. I stayed in a 4 berth "soft-sleeper" cabin, which I shared with a chinese man and his two travelling teenagers.

Stepping out to use to toilet, a display indicated that we were cruising at 149kph, about 90mph. Not too bad.

My only complaint was that our cabin didn't seem to cool down much through the night, the air conditioner switch may have been broken. Other than that, the service probably spoiled me for the rest of the trip.

I'm leaving Harbin tomorrow night, there's really not much for me here. I'll come back and do China "right" one day, but without Jen to help arrange things here, my head's just not in it.

I booked my train to Suifenhe tomorrow night with the help of "Chris"- a 21 year old Harbin native who's studying English business at the local university. He approached me while I was investigating the synagogue cum pizza shack and offered to take me around. After Haiti and Bangkok, I'm getting really leery of the "local wants to practice English and show good hospitality scheme", but he told me he didn't want any money and he was trying to set up a guide service for the summer. He offered to help me book my train ticket and I accepted. True to his word, we got the ticket sorted in no-time, in time for it to start pouring. We waited out the storm at the nearby beer garden, had a drink and chatted about jazz, The Doors, The Velvet Underground and ideas to promote his business. At the moment, he's sitting next to me at the internet cafe, playing an anime knock off of Mario Kart. The dude seems trustworthy, so if you're in Harbin and looking for a guide or translator, give Yang Gui Xu (Chris) a call at: 13845053457.

I'm about the get kicked off, so let me go. I'll have more time tomorrow to do stuff. Maybe I'll even finish my Bangkok photos. Jeeeze, that was like 6 weeks ago.

Poached in Peking

2006-07-17T04:01:00.000-07:00

Third day now in Beijing. Checked out the Great Wall of China today-- very touristy, but also way cool.

Lots happening, but not much interesting to write about. I'm heading to Harbin on Wednesday, I'll have a more detailed report filed from there.

Last post from Mongolia

2006-07-12T20:30:00.000-07:00

The train leaves in 4 hours, Jen and I are in the CBD tying up some last business. I have a 3 kilo package to mail home that's going to cost me $45, not too happy about that, it it has to go.

Naadam was interesting. They oversold tickets to the opening ceremony so Jen and I were forced to wait outside for 30 minutes as mobs of angry locals banged on the gates and scuffled with the cops. Just as things looked as they would get out of hand, we snuck in with a tour group of cranky westerners who had paid a lot more than us to come to Mongolia and see the show.

In the end, I felt sorry for them. The ceremony was pleasant, but not terribly exciting or moving. The other events also fell short of grand spectacle. Naadam is essentially a state fair without the rides, cotton candy and hype. It's not designed to be the Olympics or Commonwealth games-- basically, the locals show up to their event, compete without much fanfare and then leave. After the opening ceremony, most of the fans left as the wrestling matches began. It all happened so quietly that we didn't know if they were just warming up or if the competition had started. For us, it was an interesting bookend to our time here, but I was feeling very sorry for the westerners who paid big money to tour operators to come to Mongolia with Naadam as the central focus.

Better was yesterday's horse racing event, held outside the city in a nearby valley. Even though we arrived at te wrong time, between races, there were lots of locals hanging out, picnicing on the hillside and enjoying the country. We walked around, checking out the horseriders and kiteflyers. In the end, we wound up at a ger restaurant serving really tasty, greasy khoshoor (fried meat pancakes stuffed with mutton), chatting to a local guy who had started his own real estate development company. A very pleasant morning.

The train today heads to the border, we arrive tomorrow morning. Then, we cross via taxi into China and spend the whole day hanging around waiting for the plush sleeper bus to take us overnight to Beijing to meet some of Jen's friends who have done us the favor of booking a hostel room already. More updates from there.

Mongolia has be most excellent. I didn't expect to spend a month here, and now I fear that I'll have to cut short some adventures in Russia and Europe, but there's no regrets. Indeed, this is a place that I'd like to come back to, to travel for long distances in the countryside by horse, bike or self-driven 4wd.

Nice to know that some things are still sacred

2006-07-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

such as the Mongolian reverence of their traditional annual festival of Naadam, this year celebrating the 800th anniversary of Chinngis Khaan's rise to power. Big deal.

So big in fact, that the Mongolian border office in Zamiin-Uud is closed, preventing any tourists (ie., me and Jen) from crossing into China until the 14th. We were planning on getting on the train this afternoon, which would have deposited us at the desolate border town tomorrow morning, stuck for two days with nothing to do but dodge the local drunks. The new plan is to leave UB on the train on the 13th, winding up in Beijing on the morning of the 15th.

Originally, we wanted to leave to avoid the hassle of dealing with accommodation and crowds during the festival. Instead, with no effort on our part, we're getting sucked in. Examples:

Our guesthouse is a great find. Four fellow travelers let us in on their secret spot in UB on our way back from Tsetserleg. Helena and her husband opened their 8 bed guest apartment a few weeks ago. She speaks English fairly well and is an eager host. The place is quiet, spacious and in a nice neighborhood near the train station. A big improvement over the crowded, noisy and impersonal UB Guesthouse.

Helena was working on buying our train tickets today when she found out about the border closing and wisely decided to ask us before proceeding. We didn't have much choice but to stick around for the festival, but her guesthouse was booked up starting tonight. Ready to help with our predicament, she offered her parents' apartment for us to use for the next two days, since her family has moved out to their country home for the summer. There's no beds available in town due to festival overbooking and Jen and I are about to move into our own private apartment. Not bad.

Next thing, Helena's aunt calls. She has extra tickets for Naadam's opening ceremony tomorrow morning, would we like them? At $30, she's making a tidy profit on us, but again, we're all too happy to get a chance to sit in on the best part of the biggest celebration in recent Mongolian history-- all without having to plan anything in advance.

Walking around UB last night, after a most luxurious meal at the bizarrely classy Indian/Mexican restaurant (sipping a margarita while nibbling samosas, chicken tikka and nachos), we realized that this is a pretty cool little city. We hung out with the locals in the enormous Sukhbaatar Square, enjoying the late sunset light and energetic atmosphere heralding tomorrow's fete. We were getting ready to leave today but lamenting that we wouldn't have a better chance to explore UB's cozy corners.

Not twelve hours later and it's all the opposite.

Mogol Quiz Conclusion

2006-07-08T21:06:00.000-07:00

Alright! Back in Ulaanbaatar for a day or two, just enough to get train tickets to Beijing, eat some бүүз, and finish off the Mongol Quiz!

If you recall, the question was:

What common courtesy is inexpressible in Mongol?

The answer that I was looking for was:

"please"

but in this case, your answers were so brilliantly inventive that there's heaps of points to go around. Well done, everyone. As an aside, "thank you" is only inexpressible by westerners, because transliteration is incapable of capturing the proper sounds. Here's my attempt: "buy-arrrl-[abrupt hissing sound produced in the pockets behind your teeth along with the ejection of saliva specks]-aah". My lonely planet phrasebook gives up and instead just puts the letter "l" there.

Here's how the points go out:

Rich: Actually, there's no way to say that statement, since there's no way to say please. Chinngis actually prefered not to pillage villages, but since no one bothered to ask him not to, he just figured it's what they wanted. For exhausting American humor on mongolia, you get 6 points.

Glen K.: Close. Mongolians have become accostomed to westerners extending a handshake, especially in the cities. Out in the country though, you will get a moment's confused hesitation when you offer your hand before they remember our custom. Regarding "thank you", see above. You probably have heard them say it, but you mistook it for a cat in heat in a nearby alley. 8 points.

Lizzle: Suprisingly, horse rape isn't very common. But, considering how every drunk on the streets of Tsesterleg stops you, produces a half-empty bottle of $1.50 vodka from his half-zippered pants, shakes your hand and tries to pour a shot down your throat as you back away using every mongolian word you can think of to placate his misguided generosity without having to actually touch any part of you to any part of his proffered potion-- hmm, actually theses dudes might just rape horses. Or tourists that they mistake for horses. Or, most likely, horses that they mistake for tourists. Oh, and you're right about "please". 12 points!

uslennar: Actually, you don't need to ask. It is custom, along with bland cheese, fresh sour yoghurt, dried curds, salty milk tea and dumplings, to be offered a steaming cup of wife. If you visit at the right time of the month, they serve it with a peculiar curdled ketchup.... 10 points, for giving the best LOL answer.

Dad: Can't wait to join you in the hot tub for some durhang. As for farting while milking the cows (yaks, actually), I wish someone would tell that to the yaks-- and the yak milker's older drunk brother. 7 points.

gnuheller: Interesting point. The Mongolians don't seem to clap much. As for the elbow action, they must really think I'm great considering how often I get shoved in the kidneys when trying to join a Mongolian queue (picture a bank teller in the middle of a rugby scrum). 7 points.

And the standings:

Lizzle 19.5
Lenny 19
gnuheller 18.1
Dad 16
Velma 11.5
Mom 8.5
Glen K. 8
Rich 7
Karl 6.4
Matt 5.5
Jessie 4.5
Steve 3
Jason 3
Mark 1
Guru 1
Mike -3

The points are going up, so be sure to play. Weak turnout this time around-- time to catch up in the bonus round!

Tstill in Tsetserleg

2006-07-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

Life here is good and relaxed. I've taken two more horseriding trips with the same guide, I'm really getting the hang of it. Our guide, Gaige, told me that I was riding like a "sain Mongol" the other day. That means I'm good.

The third day of riding was unintentional, but necessary because my backpack flew open on the second day and released my money belt somewhere in the valley. We were racing across the valley ahead of a huge thunderstorm that was bearing down on us. It was an amazing moment to be cantering across the field, looking left to see Darren doing the same, framed by the green hills, towering stormclouds and lashes of lightning. We made it back to Gaige's ger moments before the storm was upon us. Somewhere in the dash, I lost my moneybelt. With the weather getting worse, I decided to forget it for the moment and to enjoy the energy of the day.

After the storm passed, we got back on our horses for the 1:30 ride back to town. We didn't get a half hour out before another, meaner storm was swirling around us. Shouting and gesturing at me to hold onto my hat, Gaige turned and we followed him into the wind toward another family's ger across the valley. The horses understood what we wanted and gallopped unwhipped across the field. Reaching the ger, we quickly tied up the horses and dashed inside, just as the marble-sized hailstones began to rain down.

Nara, our suprise hostess was unfazed and began the now familar ritual of plying us with all sorts of nomad fare. Hot sultay tsai (warm, salted milk tea-- my favourite), fresh soft cheese, bread and airag (the alcohoilic fermented horse milk that tastes like sour liquid cheese yoghurt and makes your tummy funny). While we started drying off, the horses were untied so that they could run off and take shelter beneathe the trees lining the opposite side of the valley.

Eventually the storm passed and while we waited for the local boys to find our horses, our hostess served hot buuz and more sultay tsai. The sun poked out from beneath the clouds and we began riding again under a gray sky, lit from below, towards the perfect double rainbow that now straddled the valley back to Tsesterleg.

Returning the next day with Jen, I found my belt without too much trouble. This was good luck, considering that my passport and hard earned visas were contained within.

I'm planning on leaving here at the end of the week, and I'll probably wind up in Beijing sometime around the 12th. Only a month and a half before I need to head back to NY. Seems like nothing.

So the UFO. Right. It was real and scary. Elin, Isabel, Ken and myself were sitting on the ridgetop, camping for our last night together as a group. It was about 12:30pm and the last little glow of the sun's light was still visible on the horizon. We were all gazing straight up, watching the satellites glide through the bright starfield when Elin shouted, "What's that?!"

She was pointing toward the horizon where the sun had gone down. Looking over, our coccoon of sleeping bags contracted as we flinched together in fear and suprise. We noticed two things: The first was that the glow of the dying sun had expanded. The left side of the glow had grown along the horizon to the left and two large fingers of light were now reaching up into the sky, curving like a spiral to the right above the spot where the sun had set. Elin, who grew up in far north Sweden, assured us that this wasn't the aurora borealis (the northern lights). We might have dismissed this as some other atmospheric phenomenon if not for the other thing we saw.

About 10 degrees from the horizon, in the spot where the glowing fingers ended, it was a very bright light, seemingly far away, but moving fast. It was surrounded by a glowing halo quite similar to the light that had formed on the horizon. The halo's size was initially about the diameter of the full moon, and it grew as the object approached. It was much to bright to be a satellite, too big and not blinking to be an aircraft, too long lived to be a meteor.

We gibbered nervously as the light grew brighter and the halo expanded, making it seem as if it were approaching us. Over the course of a few minutes, it became apparent that it was coming closer, but was also going to pass us on our right. We watched it as it reached its closest point to us and then continued sliding across the sky to our right, parallel with the horizon the whole way, until it grew more distant and faded near the spot where the sun would be rising in a few hours. As it dissapeared in the distance, so faded the glow that had appeared at its origin. The sky returned to near blackness as we caught our breath and speculated, excitedly nervous.

I have never seen anything like that in my life. I have no easy explanation. So much going on there at the same time to seem natural, but I'm not blaming the LGM either. Still, it was the first time in years that I was genuinely shocked by anything. Watching it, we all felt like children. Quite a gift.

How to shit in Asia

2006-06-27T20:04:00.000-07:00

Two notes about toilets in this part of the world:

Squat toilets are great, once your muscles adjust. Since there's no seat to contact your bum, even the ickiest toilet is hygenic. Gladly, most of the outhouses and toilets we've used have been clean and low-stink. As a bonus, it seems that the squatting posture makes for a straighter bowel path, thus easing the excretory exercise.

When you do have a flush toilet (squat or throne), the local plumbing almost never accepts toilet paper. Instead, there's a trash bin in the room in which you deposit your stained paper. You'd think this would lead to a smelly bathroom, but for some reason it doesn't. I guess it just dries up and doesn't smell, so the situation is actually perfectly fine.

Tsituation update

2006-06-27T19:50:00.000-07:00

Still hanging out here in Tsetserleg, having a great, relaxed time. Two nights ago, Isabel (my constant companion) and I walked up one of the mountains that looks over the town. The hike was similar in scale to Mission Peak and with the sun setting around 11pm, we sat up there quite late watching the scenery in peace before walking down. I've been starving for a hearty meal of buuz (pronounced bose), mutton packed steamed dumplings. Unfortunately, the late sunsets have thrown off my sense of restaurant opening hours. We got off the mountain at about 10pm, but everyone had closed up at 9-- I think it's silly that a restaruant could close for dinner while the sun is still up! Instead, we ate salami and instant noodles back at the hotel. Life goes on in the third world.

Yesterday, I finally got on a horse. The trip was set up by Marc, the British owner of the Fairfield Bakery, Cafe and Guesthouse. The Fairfield is the only western establishment in Tsetserleg, and this serves as a haven for expats and travelers looking for a real cup of coffee and a sandwich. It says a lot about the variety of food in Mongolia when British cuisine is sought after as a rare gourmet meal.

Anyway, Mark has an agreement with a nice local horse-raising family, headed by one of the brothers, Ghazghan. His name was not pronouncable, so I dubbed him Gaspar. We spent 6 hours with him and his horses, riding from his ger back into Tsetserleg, about 12km total. The ride was fantastic. My horse, who I named El Guapo, was very cooperative and always eager to run. On several occasions, I got her up to a blissfull gallop across the grassy plains. At one point, we came upon a group of Mongolians on their race horses who were practcing for the Nadaam festival competitions. They were racing at top speed through the valley floor and my horse caught the sprit and we flew together for a magic moment before I turned her around and caught up with the group.

When we weren't racing around the steppes, we liesurely rode through serene streamside glades with short wildflowered grass and shady happy trees. I could have spent days in those meadows, which if you hadn't known better, would have seemed to have been hand designed and manicured. Magical.

We rode back into town tired, saddle sore and starving. I was really ready to finally sit down for a heaping pile of buuz only to be thwarted again by the scheduled power outage that had the whole town in a blackout. At least the restaurant at our hotel had a gas burner and served some tasty soup (but couldn't make a pot of tea for some reason). After dinner, we sat in our hotel rooms snacking, playing cards, drinking vodka and watching the tremendous rainstorm flood the muddy streets.

Was supposed to meet a local woman today for a Mongolian language lesson at 10am today- an hour for $3, why not. She never showed up, which was fine because after the horse trip and a very late night, I wasn't feeling all that internationally curious. All the better to get some writing done.

To the lake and back, part 1

2006-06-25T05:52:00.001-07:00

Arrived at Tsagaan Nuur to find that Хишгээ wasn't there, he'd gone off for a few days to the city. As it turns out, actually, there's not much at the Great White Lake except for a few simple ger camps.

The guy who ran our camp seemed nice enough, and the food and ger furnishings were above par. The lake is lovely and we spent three days there.

If you remember, the plan was to meet Хишгээ, get in with his horse operation and learn all about horsemanship. That idea quickly fell apart. Our host could arrange for horses for a several day trip, but there was practically no English to be had at the lake.

The four of us who had wanted to stay at the lake decided to spend a few days there and then head back to Tsetserleg instead (the comfy mountain town we were in a few days ago). Since the other two had wanted to go back to UB, we decided to have our driver change the itinerary and return to UB via Tsetserleg instead of Ogii Lake. Based on our agreement with Bobby (our tour organizer) we were supposed to be able to change our plans at will (so long as we agreed to pay for any extra days or petrol). Someone forgot to tell this to our driver, Baatar.

He steadfastly refused to return via Tsetserleg. He actually didn't even know that we were scheduled to spend 2 nights at Tsagaan Nuur. He refused to amend the schedule in any way. Saturday morning, we spent about an hour arguing with him and our ger host-- they both insisted that the road to Tsetserleg was washed out by last nights heavy rains and that the town was completely inaccessible--- for another week.

Suspicious, Jen and I decided to spend the afternoon walking around the other ger camps by the lake. At the first camp, we met a very nice Mongolian family who assured us that they could take us that day or any of the next to Tsetserleg for a reasonable fee, the road was fine. The wife spoke excellent Russian, which made the discussion quite a bit easier.

Walking away, we met a group of Mongolian youths in a swanky Mitsubishi 4wd van who no only told us (using gestures and since words from my phrasebook) that the road was good, but they could take us the next day for 50,000 togrog (about $42), a good deal. We told them that they should come by at 9am the next morning and if we wanted to go with them, we would go then. They agreed and we walked on.

At the next camp, we met two French couples who were traveling together with a personal chef and a guide/interpreter. When I introduced us in French, they invited us into their ger for some hot tea and fresh biscuits. Jen sat there in shock as we carried on a fairly easy and interesting conversation in French for about a half hour. Our hosts were very gracious and patient with my small vocabulary- staying in French but dropping a few English words here and there to help me out. By the time we left, their guide had assured us that there was no problem with the road and I had an offer to meet the couples at their homes in Toulouse if I ever pass through that way-- et pourquoi pas?

Lastly, we found a group of Dutch travelers camped out with their guide along the lakeshore. Again, the story was the same- indeed they were leaving the next day themselves for Tsetserleg in their (alas) fully loaded vans.

Jen and I walked back, trying to piece together the motivations for the deception. It was clear that our host wanted us to stay and spend money at his camp and on his horses, but why our driver was going along with it made no sense when we considered that he would likely be fired when word got back to Bobby.

In the end, we decided to take the Mongolians up on their offer of a ride and we spoke with them to confirm. A slightly English speaking girl had turned up in their entourage and she told us that they would absolutely, definitely be there at 9am margaash (tomorrow).

That night, Isabel, Ken, Elin and I decided to take our tents and gear up for a little backpack trip to the top of the ridge. We walked up there for about an hour, picked a camp with a view of the lake and the sunset and sat outside. The sun went down around 10:30 and there was still light in the sky well past midnight. It was around then that we saw the UFO.

To be continued. . .

Mongol Quiz

2006-06-22T04:37:00.000-07:00

Real quick, here's the long awaited Mongol Quiz:

What common courtesy is inexpressible in Mongol?

Good luck.

Big Yak Attack

2006-06-22T04:17:00.000-07:00

Out of the Gobi and into the wooded grassy steppes. Amazing vastness everywhere, but it's good to have a hint of civilization here in Tsetserleng.

This is definitely the nicest town I've found in Mongolia so far, up in the hills with more trees than dust. If I were to settle here, it would be in Tsetserleng. Hmm, hard to write, I'm a bit shellshocked and a bit hyper from an overdose of caffiene. Lunch was at the only "western" style restaurant for hundreds of Kms, Fairfield, a charming cafe owned by an expat British couple. Cold Coca-Cola a real lattes lead to a bit of a binge. 7 days of rice filled dumplings, water and fermented mare's milk will do that to you...

Despite the jitters, I'm fine: happy and healthy and looking forward to the next leg. We arrive at Tsagaan Nuur (the Great White Lake) tomorrow. That's where I hope to hook up with the horsey dude to find out my equine destiny. I'm feeling confident that I'll be able to find a niche there for a little while. Probably no internet access, so you know the drill.

Yesterday we were invited into a family's ger to share in their homemade cheese and the national drink araig (pronounced air-ak). It's served by the bowlfull, with about the same alcohol content of beer. It tastes like sour alcoholic yoghurty liquid cheese. It tastes better than it sounds. While we entertained our guests with digital cameras and Jen's guitar playing, I downed a few bowls-- which was better than our driver who downed about five. After we left, and after about 20 minutes of sprited driving, he pulled over by an idyllic mountain stream and promptly lay down. We used that opportunity to make our lunch for the day.

Last night was solstice, we celebrated by buying a tasty bottle of $2 vodka and dowining it at sunset with another group of 4 dudes who were staying at the same guest house as us.

Time to set up the Mongol Quiz.