Tour Day 3: Pergamon Asclepium & Culture Day

Pergamon Asclepium

We headed back to Pergamon, this time in the lower city where the Asclepium was located.  The Asclepium is a hospital (named for the God of healing, Asclepius), taking advantage of natural springs deemed holy by the Romans.  In fact, Galen, who eventually became the personal physician to Emperor Marcus Aurelius, worked here among a supposedly impressive library of medical texts. 

The most ironic thing about this hospital, however, is that no one truly sick (or poor or heavily pregnant) was allowed over the threshold.  Since the hospital was also deemed holy, therefore no death could happen within its confines.  So, this hospital probably had the highest survival rate ever.  Those who could afford it, though, could enjoy different therapies such as mud treatments and acoustic water treatments (making it sound more like a spa than a hospital).  We actually drank from a spring that still gushes water.  It tasted cold and delicious.  Of course, we waited for Oktay to go first, just to ensure we wouldn’t die immediately afterwards. 

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Tour Day 1 & 2: Istanbul Day Tour, Smyrna & Pergamon’s Acropolis

After a long sleepless train ride with a baby who could reach inhuman levels of crying for extended periods of time, getting ripped off by our cab driver in Ulaanbaatar, and a brief freak-out thinking our travel plans in Turkey had fallen through, we were picked up by a representative from TravelShop Turkey and ferried to our hotel in Istanbul at the beginning of our 7 Churches of Revelation tour. 

What you must understand is that the Book of Revelation is one of my favorite books in the Bible and I geeked out when I realized that the 7 churches mentioned by John were ALL in Turkey.  I KNEW I had to see the cities, especially Ephesus because not only is it a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it also contains the remains of the Temple of Artemis, one of the 7 ancient wonders of the world (another of my must-see-before-I-die list).  At the beginning of the trip, I was confident in my ability to plan out a do-it-yourself route.  By now, lesson learned, sometimes it’s worth it to pay a little more to save a LOT of work.  So, we booked a tour instead. 

Our first full day, however, we enjoyed a walking tour of Istanbul.  I won’t go into detail now because I’m planning on dedicating a TON of posts to the wonders Istanbul offers.  So, we’ll get right into the thick of things with Smyrna & Pergamon. 

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Mongolian Cowboys: 3 Weeks at Anak Ranch

It’s nice to be able have the space and time to think.  I used to have a relatively long commute and while I don’t miss that commute at all, I do miss the drifting of my mind while on the train or stuck in traffic on my way to work.  I used to do my best thinking then, my hands moving automatically on the steering wheel, half my mind on the intricacies of driving and the other half on weaving stories or planning projects. Travelling is different, a mix of "let’s go here and see this" mingled with "all right, what’s next?"  It’s always go time.  Here at Anak Ranch, there’s just time.  We spent most of our days working our way through novels by H.G. Wells, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Ray Bradbury, Roald Dahl, and Cory Doctorow; or writing blog posts (as you can see, I’m practically caught up) or sleeping. 

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Initial Observations of Anak Ranch written as of the 4th day here

Though the mere idea of spending three weeks living in a ger on a Mongolian ranch in the middle of nowhere does tend to scream "RURAL", I don’t think we were initially prepared for what we were getting ourselves into.  Stumbling bleary-eyed out of the truck at 4:30 in the morning in temperatures so cold it sucks the air straight out of your lungs and prickles your skin even underneath 3 layers (admittedly 2 layers were rather-thinish) of clothing into a warm lit ger was heaven, at least until the throwaway comment right before our host, Martin, left us for the remainder of the night, "Oh, the outhouse is back there."  That first morning, we shivered awake, poking and prodding at our dying fire without a clue.  We stumbled outside, our shoes crunching on a light layer of snow and discovered that yes, there indeed was an outhouse.  Peering inside, I was reminded of that scene in Slumdog Millionaire (I won’t go into it.  Suffice to say, if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know which outhouse scene I’m talking about).  I was staggered with the horrible thought that staying here for 3 whole weeks could be a terrible mistake (though a fantastic deal, monetarily).  I mean, Rick and I are Southern California kids who’ve spent all our lives living comfortable middle-class lives in suburbia where rural often meant the petting zoo at the annual Orange County fair.  And this is before we discovered that there’s, for all intents and purposes, no internet.  Unless you go into town a couple miles away, at the train station they picked us up at. 

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The Right Stop: Train Ride to Anak Ranch, Mongolia

Our next stop on our trip was on an adventure to a Mongolian ranch, literally in the middle of nowhere.  Our host there emailed me our destination, a 15-word long description of a place.  Most trains I’ve taken, there’s a set destination: Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, Chiang Mai.  Not so, here.  It’s "so-and-so place in so-and-so district near so-and-so place"  I carefully copied it down and showed it to our guesthouse lady who attempted to translate it into Mongolian, but even she had trouble with it, writing down a couple question-marks after a few words.  This, for obvious reasons, worried me. 

We decided to walk to the train station to purchase our tickets.  It didn’t seem too far.  Besides, it’s the main train station, so it should be fairly obvious when we near it, right?  Wrong.  On both points.  The walk seemed twice as long due to the sudden bitterly cold change in temperature and the stiff wind that seemed to blow straight into our faces no matter which direction we faced.    At one point, we got lost, our map being of no help.  I cheered up when I saw a public map, but soon realized that the whole map was written in Mongolian and nowhere did I see any symbol that looked remotely train-like.  Rick, in desperation, pointed at the only English we saw on the whole map, "The Chelsea Football Fan Club".  Perfect.  An English-based soccer team fan club must have people who can speak some English, right?  We made our way to the building, finding it mostly empty except a small office to the side.  A girl sat typing away at a desk, looking up at us when I pushed the door in.  I said, "train?"  She shook her head, then pulled out a piece of scratch paper.  I drew a picture of a train on it.  She stared at it blankly.  I made "choo-choo-chugga-chugga" sounds.  She stared at me blankly.  I wrote "TRAIN" underneath it.  She brightened, "train!"  I nodded like a crazy person.  Soon, we were back on the right track, walking another half mile on dug-up unpaved roads.  I turned to Rick, "No way are we walking here with all our luggage.  We’re never going to make it."

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Observations of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Ulaanbaatar, and Mongolia, seem to me to be a city on the cusp, teetering on the edge between ancient tradition and modernity.  Our taxi rumbled along on unpaved roads on the way to our guesthouse from the airport that very first day.  Our driver, an older graying man, pointed excitedly in the distance.  "Build new airport," he said.  Along the way, we passed beside a half-constructed mall in the middle of nowhere, and this theme seemed to persist.  Everywhere we went in Ulaanbaatar, there were construction sites, building being torn down and building going up, a mix of paved and unpaved dirt roads crisscrossing the city.  It felt like everything about the city was changing, but, at the same time, there were still so many remnants of the past still lingering. 

Our drive from the airport into Ulaanbaatar.

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Eagles, Buuz, and a Gigantic Horse Statue: a Day Trip around Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

One of things I most wanted Rick to visit was the giant Chinggis Khan statue.  So, to that end, we booked an inexpensive day tour through our guesthouse.  At 9am, we met our driver.  He spoke no English.  "Well," Rick remarked, "I guess he won’t be giving us a detailed tour." 

We first arrived at this giant gold Buddha statue.  Rick and I walked around it a bit, but there’s really not much to do around a giant gold statue besides look at it and there’s only so long I have the patience to look at giant gold statues.  So we walked back to the car. 

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Registering with the Mongolian Office of Immigration

Those holding US passports are allowed to stay visa-free in the country for 90 days.  However, if you want to stay past 30 days, as we did, you have to register with the Mongolian Office of Immigration within 7 days of entering Mongolia.  If you stay past 30 days and DON’T register, then they’ll be happy to take your money in the form of fines. 

The lady in charge of our guesthouse was super helpful, showing us how to get to the office by bus (only 400 MNT per person, compared to the 25,000 MNT charged by the taxi for the same distance). We made our way to the bus stop armed with everything we needed to register: passports, money, extra passport photos (why it’s so important to bring some along), and the address & phone number of our guesthouse.  We peeled our eyes waiting for Bus 11 to show up.  This seems like a simple task, but it truly isn’t.  Mongolian busses are an impatient bunch.  They pull up to the stop, disgorging a load of people from the front, and letting in a crowd of people from the back door.  Then, they take off, no waiting.  If there’s already a bus at the stop, they park behind or pull up in front, so we end up running back and forth about a half block trying to see the numbers displayed on the front or side before they take off again.  Once we managed to get on the right bus, we hand our money to a uniformed woman who gives us any change we need plus ripped paper tickets.  We also showed her the address, written for us in Mongolian by our guesthouse host for the stop right before the airport (I’ll update with it when I locate it in the detritus of my luggage), and she nodded, indicating she would let us know when we were near.  If you want a seat on the bus, your butt has to have lightning-fast speed, aiming straight for any openings.  If you’re too slow, like Rick was, an old lady will just push you out of the way. 

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Queen Amidala, Pigeons, and Brain Teasers: Sights of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Mongolia was designated as our rest country, so we spend many days staying indoors, only leaving for meals and sleeping a great deal.  When we did go out for touristy things, we kept our visits short, usually visiting one site each time.  Here are a few of those sights:

Sukbaatar Square

This is the main square along Peace Avenue, a gathering place right in front of the main government house.  At one point, we stumbled upon a huge sports gathering, culminating in four shirtless men flailing their bodies (dancing?) to the cheers of a large crowd of people.  The main thing of note here is the giant Chinggis Khan (the real way to spell Genghis Khan’s name) statue flanked by two horseman, both different in face and body. 

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Observations on Beijing, China

The first thing you should know about Beijing, China, is that, unless you’re particularly nationalistic, STAY AWAY from Beijing during the first week of October.  It’s National Day, the nation’s birthday, which I didn’t know about until the day we arrived, but it’s celebrated that whole week (which, I suppose, should be more appropriately named National Week), and every other person in all of China is there to celebrate it in the nation’s capital.  There’s a wonderful sort of fervor in the air, people waving little Chinese flags or with flag stickers affixed to their cheeks. 

However, there’s an awful lot of people in China.  My mom once taught me a Chinese saying, Ren San Ren Hai, that translates to "People Mountain People Sea" and I’ve never seen a more apt application of this saying than the flood of people pouring through every main attraction in Beijing.  In fact, there was one point while we were at the Summer Palace where we literally couldn’t move at all because of the crush of people around us.  The European tour group trapped alongside us exchanged sympathetic looks in our shared predicament. 

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