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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Reflections on the 2nd Month

We’ve spent this whole 2nd month in Mongolia.  It may seem rather on the dull side, one country, not the most cosmopolitan of one either, but I think we’ve grown inward more than outward this month. 

Mongolia, despite its rapid modernization, is not a place built for tourists, so we’ve had to depend even more on each other than before to counteract our increasing isolation.  It’s interesting to see how language, or a lack of a common language, can create barriers much higher than differing cultures or looks.  How can we ask for help if no one understands?  How can we even do a price check on a loaf of bread, if all I can do is hold up the loaf of bread and make questioning noises?  Our pointing has become more eloquent and we’ve grown to appreciate the many nuances hand motions can convey, but there are still information we can’t transmit or receive because we don’t have the right words for it.  And it’s so frustrating.  I’m sure it’s even more frustrating for those who desire to help us but can’t. 

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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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China: Going 72-hour Visa-Free

We added China to our itinerary at the spur of the moment when I stumbled upon an opportunity that had become available starting January 2013.  According to the new regulations, people holding certain country passports (the US being one of them) could enter Beijing, China visa-free as long as the following rules were followed:

1. You must hold the right country’s passport
2. You must FLY into and out of the main airport in Beijing, China.  No trains.  No other airports.  Though, I believe you can also fly into and out of Shanghai (but double-check for yourself). 
3. You must stay ONLY in the Beijing city limits for the entirety of your trip to China.
4. You must have an onward flight ticket out of China before you even board your flight to China that takes off in 72 hours or less from the minute you arrive. 
5. You must already have an address you’re staying at in China. 

A lot of tour companies have 72-hours or less itineraries, which I recommend researching because, from experience, it’s tough to navigate around China in such a short window of time and still be able to see the major sights.  We booked a private tour through Tour-Beijing which was convenient for us.  Keep in mind, though, that if you book a tour, expect to be taken to many "educational" factories in which the guides expect you to purchase something at the end (they receive commission) and to pay both the driver & guide a tip at the end. 

When we checked into our flight to China in Thailand, we made sure to tell the girl at the counter that this is for a 72-hour visa.  She made sure all our information was correct and in order, and transmitted the information to China immigration.  When we arrived in China, we’re supposed to go to a special 72-hour visa-free line.  However, we were the last people off of a flight that arrived at 11pm, so, instead, we were met by a very confused Passport Control official.  When he finally understood that we were here using the 72-hour visa-free opportunity, he double-checked all our information again.  However, everything checked out, and we were soon on our way. 

If you take advantage of this, let me know and we’ll compare experiences. 

You can find more information here or just by Googling.

Bus to Bangkok from Chiang Mai, Thailand

I have to say that the bus ride back to Bangkok made for the single worst sleeping experience of my life.  Let me back up and start from the beginning.  Knowing the trains were out of the question for our trip back to Bangkok (and how I lamented not booking our flight to China to leave from Chiang Mai) and a plane ride seemed sort of egregious for the short hop from Chiang Mai to Bangkok (which, looking back, was not egregious at ALL), we decided to take a sleeper bus to Bangkok. 

We purchased the tickets a few days early when an errand took us nearby the train station.  On entering the terminal, there’s a large section in green to the left with a few windows and a fancy ticket queuing system.  On the right is a series of about 20 windows, all with bored-looking ladies leaning out of them eyeing each passing person with sharp eyes ready to pounce.  I shepherded Rick towards the left.  It seemed safer.  Didn’t matter.  We waited for 10 minutes and then was promptly informed that they didn’t sell any bus tickets to Bangkok.  The woman pointed towards the scary ladies.  Resigned to our fate, we shuffled over.  Rick came up with the smart idea of trying 10 of the windows to compare prices and amenities.  It worked.  We ended up booking a VIP bus with a steep discount of 563 Baht per person.  VIP meant TV, food, bathroom, and less crowding. 

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