Me-go Mix: Track 3
“Ji Xiang San Bao (吉祥三宝。)” — Burenbayaer
To download using Windows “right click” and save to disk. Mac users, you know what to do.

If there’s one song that reminds me of my recent travels in China it’s Ji Xiang San Bao. During 2004’s Phase I, a handful of pop songs were constantly blasting from storefronts. There was no song that assaulted me at the same level during Phase II. In fact, the area of China I visited during Phase II seemed altogether quiet compared to Beijing and Xi’an.

Although Ji Xiang San Bao wasn’t blasted into my memory it quietly crept in. Walking down the street I would hear the chorus and on an overnight sleeper bus I was woken by a child’s voice squeaking out “mama?” I swear ever other man in Northwest China had this song as his phone’s ringtone. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you might say, “ringtones usually only play for a few seconds.” That’s true in many places, but these men enjoyed the song so much they always let it play the entire length before answering their phone.

See that man on the bottom checking his phone? Imagine being on this bus for 12 hours with this ringtone going off at the highest volume every ten minutes.

Despite it’s popularity, I had trouble tracking down the title and musician for this song. It was given to me by a Korean tourist who had bought a Tibetan CD with the song in Lhasa. He insisted it was Tibetan but I knew it couldn’t be. I finally found out the name from an English traveler I met in Kyrgyzstan who’s now living in Beijing. It’s always nice to have friends around the world, thanks Gabriel!

During my research I discovered that the song initially gained popularity in 2005, spreading around the internet. Some sources call it a “traditional Mongolian ballad” but it’s origins are not clear. Burenbayaer may be from Inner Mongolia, a province of China. The version I’m giving you is sung in Mongolian but I suspect the versions I heard in China were recorded in Mandarin, like parts of the You Tube videos below.

This version starts out in Mongolian and then switches to Chinese (Mandarin) around 2:00.

This version starts in Chinese and then goes into Mongolian around 1:45. It also has small children dressed as sheep which is always entertaining.

Could it be? There’s new maps up! Okay, the Mongolian flag sucks and there’s no data for NW China or Kyrgyz but it’s something. If it makes you feel any better, I took a ton of souvenir and sketchbook photos for the relevent sections but haven’t gotten around to writing the code and resizing the images yet. It’s coming eventually.

I know you’re waiting to hear about my “hiking” in Kyrgyzstan but while I’m working on that click here for the much-requested write up about my trip to the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. As always, you can also click on the “Mongolia” category in the sidebar to get to those entries.

The Naadam Festival is the biggest festival of the year. It’s most well known for the unique form of wrestling but also showcases horse racing, archery, anklebone shooting and various dancing and celebration. Because this year is the 800th anniversary of the founding of the Mongolian state Naadam included more ceremonies and celebrations than normal. A new mausoleum has been being built in front of the parliament building. Like most public projects, it fell behind schedule and was not completed for Naadam as planned. However, the crews worked day and night and got it to a point where you could imagine what it was going to look like. One day before Naadam officially started the large Chinggis Khan statue in the middle of the new building was unveiled. It was also the first time I saw the Mongolian horsemen in red and blue old-fashioned uniforms ride in formation. They have what I would call a theme song, which sounds very similar to the storm troopers march in the original Star Wars. The line forms two by two and a number of the soldiers ride in with tall white banners made of hair. They walk with straight, even legs and place the banners in a place of importance.

Opening ceremony and a little wrestling
I was in Mongolia three weeks before Naadam and asked to buy tickets to the ceremonies well in advance. I was told that they weren’t really sold and that it was best to go the day of and buy a ticket from a scalper. Victoria and I hurried to the stadium on the South side of the city two hours before the ceremony was due to open. From what we were told we thought we would be surrounded by a swarm of people selling tickets but we only saw three people selling tickets at all. One girl came up to us and tried to sell a single day’s ticket for 30,000T (almost $30) when the face value was 4,000T. The only foreigners we saw had either bought their tickets ahead of time somehow (for 4,000T) or had surrendered to paying 30,000 for the opening ceremony ticket. We started to get worried when we had circled the entire stadium with no reasonable offers. Finally two girls came up to use and sold us each an entire set of tickets (three days) for 30,000T.

We stood in line, were wanded with metal detectors and found a seat in our assigned section of the bleachers. Each section was enclosed by bars which I only saw as a fire hazard. This was even more scary because as more and more people came into our section it was clear that it had been oversold. The police were saving the first bench, which we sat behind. I walked around as much as I could, taking photos of the performers warming up. It turned out the seats were being saved for three white men and their handlers. The man in charge of them went out to buy them hats which made them even more silly. The police began directing people to move over to let people in. My hip were touching people on both sides and that’s my definition of way too close, I certainly wasn’t going to sit on anyone’s lap. When anyone tried to get me to move I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.

Eventually the situation got so bad all of the performers were watching the section and the policy had to physically block the enterance so no one else could push in. People we standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisles but the handler in front of us wouldn’t let anyone stand in front of the three foreigners. This was kind of nice for us because when anyone stood there he made them move. When two women tried to get past him he shouted and pulled at their clothes. One woman got past and when her friend tried to pass the handler grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She got up fighting and yelling but the man managed to get rid of her. A few minutes later a man began to climb up the bleachers in the middle of our section but only got about four rows up before the people below him grabbed his coat and pulled him back to the ground. At this point I was not only glad we got there early but was worried that the entire section might erupt into a mob scene.

Finally, the ceremony began with the storm trooper theme song, the presentation of the hairy flags and the national anthem. The crowd attempted to sing the anthem, aided by sheets with the lyrics that had been distributed to everyone at the entrance. I had to stand out of respect but I spent the entire song worrying that as soon as it ended I would try to sit down and find a Mongolian in my spot like a giant game of musical chairs. I couldn’t understand any of the announcements but there was a lot of talk of Chinggis Khan, who united all of the Mongolian territories (and went on to conquer a lot of the rest of the world too). Chinggis Khan is also known as Ghenghis Khan, which may have been confusing to you too. Actually, there never was a Ghengis, it’s just a name made by Westerners for some reason.

There were many groups of performers from noble people in gorgeous gowns, warriors in leather to children in bright costumes. Each had a different part in the ceremony. A large ger on wheels road around the stadium, which carried a man dressed as Chinggis. Men on horses rode across the field performing acrobatic trick riding that was quite impressive. Some warriors had a dance where they prertended to fight and many children had coordinated dance numbers with massive numbers of participants. A large section of card holders were located in the opposite stands, flipping cards to make interesting designs. The Naadam gallery has a lot of photographs of the ceremonies and competition which might help to paint a better picture of just how colorful and event it was.

The entire spectacle lasted around two hours and was well worth the effort to squeeze into. Halfway through the three foreigners in the front decided to leave and pushed through the crowd toward the exit. Naturally, as soon as they got up the locals rushed for their seats (these guys were big so you could fit a lot more Mongolians in that space). The gates were still sealed because people with tickets were trying to push in so the foreigners couldn’t exit. They came back to their seats, demanding to have them back. It was all pretty funny to watch until one of the women with them decided to sit next to me. Only, there was literally no room next to me! The man next to me encouraged her and tried to get me to move, to where I wasn’t sure. I was able to produce an extra inch or two by contorting my body into an unnatural position, but she wasn’t a small woman. I wasn’t willing to give up my seat so she just sat on me!

As soon as the performance ended everyone dashed to the exits, not even bothering to stay for any of the first round wrestling. I certainly wanted to see the wrestling that Mongolia is so famous for but it was soon evident that it wasn’t going to be close to anything like what I saw at the small Naadam in Bayongol. The wrestlers were too far away to see much, even when using my 200mm lens as a binocular. Rain was coming in so I left for the day, happy to have seen the opening ceremony and to have heard the storm trooper music again.

Archery and ankle bone shooting
Day two didn’t have a lot going on, only the continuation of the competitions. I decided not to go to the horse racing because it was a few hours outside of town and I didn’t feel like standing around for hours waiting to see a few horses come in from a distance and pass a line. I did want to see archery, just to see how the competition worked so I headed down to the stadium by myself. Althoguh I knew archery had been going on the day before I hadn’t seen it anywhere near the stadium. It turned out to be in a field near a small area of cement stands where no ticket was needed. The archers wore traditional dels in bright colors and shinny fabric. Each shooter had a different hat, some with long tails in the back signifying that they were previous year’s winners.

Women stood about twenty feet closer to the targets than men, but the men continued to shoot from behind them which seemed like a dangerous arrangement to me. I suppose that the best archers in the country probably won’t slip and shoot another archer in the back. A group of men and women stood down the line around the target, which looked like a pile of stacked bean bags. the archers didn’t shoot in straight lines, they aimed high into the air so their arrow followed a large arc to hit the targets below. When a target was hit the group of people at the end raised their hands, danced around and made a lot of noise. While I was sitting in the stands watching the men it was pointed out to me that Prince Andrew of England was sitting next to the judges and I noticed a large amount of professional looking cameras pointed his way. He just looked like an English guy in a dark suit on a hot day to me.

During the archery I heard strange sounds from a tent next to the stands. Upon investigation I discovered that inside the tent was the ankle bone competition. It’s not traditionally part of Naadam but has been recently added as a sport. Two groups of shooters were competing at one time, each surrounded by a group of spectators standing around them in a circle. At one end four shooters sat on small stools pointing what was shaped like a wooden incense holder which they flicked a piece of carved bone off of using their thumb and middle finger. Directly across from them, about 10 feet away, was a table with a few more bones standing in front of a backboard which they aimed for. I still don’t understand the rules but the goal is to knock down some of the bones on that table. Men sat on stools along the sides of the circle, chanting and tossing pieces of the game up and down before handing it back to the competitors. The entire time shooting was going on the chanting continued, which was the source of the strange noise that had brought me to the tent.

Closing ceremony, trapped in the stadium again
The final day consisted of the last few rounds of wrestling in the stadium, archery finals in the hidden field and the presentation of various prizes throughout the day. I wanted to see the wrestling final, as it was a very big deal and I was promised that once the little wrestlers were out of the way the competition would get more interesting. Unfortunately, that wasn’t true and by round 9 I was starting to fall asleep. The bigger wrestlers rested a lot and spent a lot of their time sizing up their opponents. Most of the matches were won when I turned my head or when they passed behind an umbrella or judges table blocking my view. The crowds gradually filled up as it got closer to the final and soon everyone was pushing for space again. The police blocked the doors again and Victoria and I were locked inside the stadium in the sun without food or drinks from 10am until 4:30pm. In-between rounds of wrestling the small horse riders (some looked to be about 5 years old) and the archers were awarded large boxes and sometimes medals. I would like to know what was in the boxes, as some were too big for the little riders to carry themselves. After each award the winners walked around the stadium waving to the crowd. The largest cheers were saved for the horse trainers and final winners of wrestling.

When we finally got down to the wrestling finals the second to last match took what seemed like half an hour. When the wrestlers were locked in a grip or it seemed like one might give the crowd gasped out in unison. The final match only lasted about 7 minutes and by then we ready to leave. Although people tried to leave we had to wait for more awards, the carrying of the winner on the shoulders of a crowd and finally for the storm trooper music and the removal of the hairy flags.

Although the actual events themselves aren’t terribly exciting, it was nice to see the costumes, ceremonies and a little bit of each sport. The opening ceremony was the best event by far, even with being sat on. I would suggest that someone going to Naadam to see it in Ulaan Baatar but to also see a local Naadam somewhere else beforehand so they can actually watch the wrestling and get closer to the action. Many people completely avoid UB during this time because they say it’s too busy. I didn’t find it too busy at all, having seen the city weeks before when no tourists were around. In fact, I was a little sad that it wasn’t more busy and full of tourists given that it was the 800th anniversary and the famous Naadam Festival was going on. Some Mongolians working around the festivities asked me if people knew about Mongolia and I said that I think that people are becoming more aware of it as a tourist destination but it is still a bit off the beaten track. Many of them are learning English and there’s a good amount of tourist infrastructure in place just waiting for all of the tourists to come.

Even though I’ve had six nights in Ulaan Baatar since coming back from the Gobi I haven’t had a lot of free time. In fact, I feel like I haven’t rested at all. I have yet to start reading the book I brought and have only caught up in my journal as far as the end of the trip to the lakes. So, much like this blog, I’m running a week behind. This might not surprise my phase 1 readers, in fact, I would think you would be really impressed with how much I’ve been updating.

All of my photos from Mongolia are up, besides any good ones I might come across from the last day or two. If you’re like my mom and waiting for the Gobi update you can at least take a look at my Gobi photos. All of my gallery is generally in chronological order so The Gobi starts after Bayongol. I also added more photos to the Ulaan Baatar album so don’t overlook those. The food and design albums are up and I’ve made sure to add captions to the food, since that’s usually a reader favorite. Now, if I were you I would go straight to the Naadam photos which are really colorful.

When you’re looking at the gallery you might not realize there’s more than you see on a single page. For instance, at the top of the white space it will say something like “showing 1-18 of 42″ which means that there’s more on the next page.

In more mundane news I spent the last three days at the Naadam festivities. The first day was the opening ceremony. We had to buy tickets from scalpers and luckily were a few hours early so we got a seat. People were trying to get in but there was no room on the benches so others were pulling them down the bleachers and I saw a slapping flight break out between a Mongolian man and two women who wanted to kneel in front of him. Once the ceremony was over everyone left and the wrestling began. I’m glad I saw the other Naadam in Bayongol because you’re really far away from anything and I couldn’t take any wrestling photos even with my 200+mm lens.

The second day I went down to watch archery and ankle bone flicking but was rained out after about an hour. Prince Andrew from England was there but made it out before the rain. On day three I went to the wrerstling finals and the closing ceremony. Unfortunately, so many people were trying to get in that they closed the doors and we couldn’t get out. So we sat on the bleachers from 10:30 until 4:30 without food. There was a guy selling coke and water but it was nearly imporssible to get him to sell you anything, especially because you couldn’t get out of your seat without someone climbing into it. I started to fall asleep around round 9 of the wrestling and thankfully the final bout between the last two wrestlers only lasted about 6 minutes.

The town has returned to normal overnight except for a slightly larger group of people on the square admiring the new Chinggis Khan statue. All of the flags in the square were taken down as well so the cartwheel photo I took this morning wasn’t very colorful. Last night I met up with a fellow internet-posting traveler named David who I have been emailing with for the last few months. We exchanged trip details but it was a little one sided. Because he’s been living in Urumqi, China for a few years he was able to give me the important information, like where the good massage place is and where to buy DVDs. I am leaving on a 24 hour train ride to Hohhot, China tonight. I am both excited to leave for a new place but also apprehensive to learn new money and a new town. Because I’ve been to China before I am not as excited as usual but at least I know what to expect and have already prepared myself mentally for the country.

After Victoria and my 10-day trip around the Lakes in Mongolia we were pretty tired. It sounds silly to be so physically exhausted from just sitting, but it’s possible. As soon as we got back to Ulaan Baatar we started asking around to find travel partners for The Gobi. It’s the most popular trip, shorter than the lakes and most people who leave UB go to The Gobi. However, suddenly there seemed to be few people heading in that direction. I think we were too far from The Naadam Festival to have a ton of tourists, but too close to it to meet people on “normal” trips to Mongolia.

We spent three days eating at the English pub and updating our websites before we had a group ready to leave. Our group turned out to be myself, Victoria—who I went on the lakes trip with and three Belgians. Seba and Ari, a 26-year old couple from the North who spoke Flemmish and Sylvie, an anthropology student studying Mongolia from the French-speaking South. Although Belgium is a small country Sylvie and the couple were very different and usually spoke English to each other, which was a more common language to them all than Flemmish or French.

Day 1: Sum Khokh Burd
Our first day we set off earlier than our last trip, around 10am. I had told the others to bring as much food as they needed because there would be plenty of room in the van. I was mistaken, because our van for this trip had been configured differently than the last one, with more leg room in the front and less trunk space. Most of our food had to go in one of the back seats next to a small boy. I was immediately confused and then angry that we had acquired a sixth passenger who was taking up one of our seats. With six people and a seat full of food there were no extra seats and someone had to sit in the middle. I also discovered halfway through the trip that half of the trunk space was being used up by the driver’s collection of empty plastic bottles.

It took me a day or two to warm up to the boy, who was named Bogi and was the driver’s 15-year old son. He turned out to be one of our main sources of entertainment throughout the trip. The first day of driving was pretty mundane, much of the same rolling green hills that surround UB. Around two in the afternoon we made one of what would be many daily stops to cool the engine down and we each ate whatever lunches we had brought—I had a sandwich from the French bakery waiting for me. Another tourist van pulled up and their interpreter told us that our driver was going to follow their van to take us to a resturaunt. This was news to us because we had been told there were no restaurants and we had already eaten. We piled back into the van and watched for some sort of town to appear. After a few more hours of driving we decided that there was no restaurant and that we were lost. Our driver began to stop at any ger he saw, apparently asking for directions. I had noticed a few tourist vans and jeeps heading in a different direction than us what seemed like hours before. This driver spoke no English and made no effort to communicate with us by any means.

Finally, around 6:30 we stopped at a ger next to some large rock formations and the driver got out again. I assumed we were asking for directions again because we had driven back and forth on the same path for a while. This time he talked to a woman, went into a ger and pointed to us. Seba took a look and was happy but I was skeptical, apparently this is where he wanted us to sleep. I took a look inside and realized it was the family’s personal ger with no beds or blankets for all of us. Victoria and I knew from experience that this wasn’t the usual setup and had been told that there were no “acceptable” families in the area so we would be staying a hotel the first night. After pointing at our map for a while we soon deduced that our driver was lost and had stopped at a random ger for the night because he was tired.

I refused to stay in the ger for a few reasons. First of all this was a family’s ger and even though it is the Mongolian way to take in strangers I felt that five of us (I assumed the driver and his son would sleep in the car) would be taking advantage of their hospitality, even if we were paying. There wouldn’t be room for all of us and the family and they wouldn’t have enough bedding for us all. Unlike the last trip, the owner of our guesthouse had insisted that we wouldn’t need sleeping bags in The Gobi so we had nothing with us. The second and more pressing issue was that we were lost. I didn’t want to start out on day two heading into the desert with no idea where we were. We were told that our driver was from The Gobi so I assumed he knew where he was going.

After more pointing at the map the driver sat down with one of the homeowners and drew a map in the dirt. The Belgians were very happy to stay in this ger and thought it would have been a good opportunity. They had all just arrived in Mongolia and hadn’t even seen any “real” Mongolians outside of the city. Although they didn’t accept my reasons for leaving they eventually got into the van and we set off. One of the couple’s main problems was sitting in the van. They didn’t want to spend all day in the van. They were told how long would would be driving each day and I explained to him that he should add at least one hour to those estimates based on my experience. To drive only a few hour each day it would take week to get to and from The Gobi. At this point I realized that we had a serious clash of personalities an cultures which turned out to be an issue with almost every decision we made as a group for the rest of the trip.

We finally pulled up to a one story hotel complex that looked like a nuclear test site. On the inside, however, it was very nicely appointed and quite clean. We were all famished and Seba went about making dinner, as he had agreed to do. When discussing supplies before the trip I explained that we would need to eat anything fresh right away. I agreed to buy all of the cooking gas if he agreed to make dinner the first night. I am fine eating ramen noodles but it was obvious Seba and Ari wanted some “really nice” food. I suggested pasta, thinking a bowl of spaghetti and a can of pasta sauce would be great. They bought all fresh ingredients and cooked their own “sauce” with the fluid from tomatoes. Most of the Europeans I know prepare pasta this way, but I had forgotten. I’m pretty happy with some Ragu.

So the dinner was good (apart from the uncooked bacon I had to get rid of) and much more elaborate than necessary. I sat outside watching the gorgeous sun set and the others took a walk around the grounds and looking at the Sum Khokh Burd ruins next to the hotel. They weren’t much to look at and were surrounded by marshland and ferocious mosquitoes. I slept well in my hotel bed with sheets and pillow, happy that we had continued on from the ger earlier that evening.

Day 2: Tsagaan Suvarge
In the morning the ruins outside our hotel were swarming with the tourist jeeps we had seen speed off in other directions the previous afternoon. We headed on but Victoria and I were soon throwing each other questioning looks when we began heading North. We needed to drive South for a few days to reach The Gobi so we seemed to be going in the wrong direction. Normally I wouldn’t second guess the driver, especially one from The Gobi, but he had driven us around in circles the day before. Before we could get too worried we stopped at a large rock formation with some Buddhist nooks and crannies. We climbed around the top for a while and headed after and English speaking group with a guide. Before I got far I felt a sharp pain on my foot, like a bee sting. I had sandals on and my foot had brushed a stinging plant that was quickly leaving small white welts on the top of my foot. Victoria headed up to the top of the rocks where a small temple had once been and I nursed my foot.

Ari and Seba were reading a Mongolian phrasebook and accused me of not wanting to learn Mongolian. I admitted that I didn’t want to learn Mongolian besides the few useful phrases I had already learned. They accused me in not so many words of being a bad traveler and not wanting to get to know the people. I had gotten to know plenty of Mongolians and had “talked” to them without a phrasebook. Even with a month in the country you can’t learn enough of the language to put together anything besides basic thoughts. With as many countries as I travel to I have to decide what I am most interested in and what I want to spend my energy on. Remembering my Chinese would ultimately be much more useful than learning a handful more Mongolian phrases. I could tell it was going to be a long trip.

I was sitting next to Bogi in the back seat on the second day, which was nice and quiet. The Belgians didn’t understand why Victoria and I alternated sitting in that seat—in their eyes it was the worst seat in the van. We both are very happy to be alone and enjoy the scenery or our own thoughts. Ari even turned to me at one point and said “aren’t you lonely back there?” How could I be lonely sitting in a hot van with six other people!? I bonded with Bogi by sharing my iPod with him in the afternoon (Ari had began singing children’s songs at this point). I don’t know if I should credit Bogi with just being a teenage boy or Apple for designing a logical interface but he was able to navigate very well. In fact, when I wasn’t watching he would switch over to the game or go back and find the audio file of SNL’s “Lazy Sunday”. He was looking for Rap and Hip Hop on my iPod and that was the closest thing he could find. When he looked in his phrasebook and called me a “ray of light” and then asked me to a disco I worried that maybe sharing my iPod was too forward. The kids here look so young that you forget they’re teenagers sometimes.

We stopped for lunch in the middle of nowhere and our driver just disappeared into a ger. You see, we would stop at random times and we never know if it was a lunch stop, a bathroom stop or if there was something wrong with the car. He could have at least made an eating motion. Three of us got the stove out to boil water for our noodles while the couple disappeared in another direction. It was quite windy and I tried to get them to set up the stove behind a fence, but they took it right into the wind. Logic wasn’t a strong suit with this group. Finally the driver came out amid my protesting and took the stove into an empty ger and we waited for the water to boil.

We arrived in the middle of nowhere, with the same terrain as our lunch stop, to sleep. Our driver disappeared and we found a ger to sleep in. The roads in this area were only tracks of overturned stones. The soil was dry, but not too sandy with a few layers of dark stones on top. We were served our dinner which looked like pastries filled with something. I naively thought it maybe potatoes. I discovered the horrible reality when I bit into a pastry and was assaulted with a layer of oil and a foul smell. Looking down I realized that I had just eaten some purple meat! I scooped the meat out and tried to eat the rest of the breading but the smell was quite bad. The others weren’t having much luck aside from Sylvie, who ate both of her pastries “to be polite.” I thought I was really polite to try it and them, after discovering it was organ meat, eating a tiny bit more. Being Irish, Victoria is more knowledgeable about strange meats and confirmed all of our fears. Sylvie started to feel sick and them got worse when we discovered the ger next to us housed drying meat covered in maggots.

A small boy, between one and two-years old was wandering around naked after dinner. The driver and Bogi played ball with him and we were all surprised how resilient he was. He fell down a lot, with no clothes on, and didn’t cry at all. The ground was covered in rocks and any Western child would have been screaming. We all agreed that it would be depressing to see nothing all day long and didn’t understand why people lived here.

Day 3: Dalanzadgad
Our third day of driving should have been one of the shortest but turned out to take 8 hours. We set off and the ride was pretty uneventful. The terrain got more desert-like and barren with only a few shrubs here and there. When we passed through what may be a town (anything more than five gers, really) I had Bogi point it out on my map. Through that I figured we couldn’t be a more than 90 minutes outside of Dalanzadgad when our van broke down.

At first we thought it was the usual problem, overheating. We had rain the night before and the desert wasn’t nearly as hot as you’d think. After the driver turned the van into the wind, revved the engine for a few minutes and let it sit, he opened up the engine. In these Russin vans the engine is between the driver and passenger seats and is accessed by lifting a cover in-between the seats that otherwise acts a a very large armrest. As soon as that goes up you know it’s going to be more than the usual 10-minute break. When he started pulling out parts I knew that it would be much, much longer than our normal breaks. We had passed by cell towers but the driver wasn’t getting a signal, not even when he stood on the roof. The next time I looked up our driver was a tiny speck on the horizon, walking South. We looked to Bogi who, with the help of a dictionary, was able to tell us “big problem.”

We ate lunch and Bogi circled the van catching geckos. He also caught something with a stick which he threw at me. I know that when a local doesn’t want to touch something it’s probably poisonous so I jumped out of the way. Like most 15-year old boys would he proceeded to smash it in half with a stick. Somewhere around this time it started to rain. The rain felt good at first until it got too windy and we took refuge in the van. Our driver soon reappeared on the back on a motorcycle and fiddled around a bit more with the engine. When a car appeared we all tried to alert the driver, assuming he would want to flag it down. He wasn’t interested, which was good because the car pulled up twenty feet behind us with a flat tire. I sat in one of the front seats, which had been thrown out into the desert, drawing the car and the very tall herder who had brought our driver back. Bogi saw this, and even though I made it clear he wasn’t to tell the herder, he showed the herder my drawing. In one quick motion the herder ripped the page out of my sketchbook and folded it up for himself.

The driver took off on the motorcycle again, and came back in a jeep. Some of the group had walked out into the desert because they were bored (who walks out into a desert?!) and were missing when the driver started throwing our bags into the jeep. The tall mongolian went off to bring the stragglers back with his motorcycle and I jumped in the back seat. There was a nice space in the trunk area for my day bag which I threw in. Soon a small Mongolian and our driver climbed next to me and jumped into the trunk and onto my bag. Apparently what I thought was a nice space for my bag was actually a nice space for two Mongolians! They grinned and laughed to each other, the driver was from Dalanzadgad so he must have been happy to be heading home.

Our driver left Bogi with the van and carried a large part of the engine with him to town. We were dropped off just as Sylvie realized that she had left her camera bag with all of her money in the van. We had also left all of our food and the others assumed we would be seeing the van again that night. I assumed we wouldn’t see the van until the next morning and tried to assure Sylvie that Bogi would protect her things. Victoria and I headed off into town to find the public showers (the only showers we would have the entire 7-day trip) while the others waited for the van. The showers were clean and felt wonderful but it took only 10 minutes walking along the dusty streets in the sun to feel dirty again.

After dinner I walked around our neighborhood, talking pictures of the local kids sitting on their roofs watching the sun set. They were happy to have their photos taken and a few of the older kids knew some English words. Many kids played on metal carts for carrying water from the well to their houses. It reminded me of when my dad used to give me rides on our hand truck. I believe it was this night when I first realized the couple were sleeping in the nude. I woke up in the middle of the night and right in my line of sight was Seba’s white butt, poking out of the blanket. The next day, when I told him I didn’t want to see his ass again he told me not to look. Sylvie later told me that this was not a Belgium-specific custom and that she was surprised they would be so rude as to sleep naked in a room full of strangers.

Day 4: Ice Valley and Hongoryn Els
The next morning we were greeted with a really good breakfast—a thin crepe-like bread covered in sugar, like a churro but softer. The van hadn’t shown up during the night and no one really knew when we would be leaving. Around 11 the driver pulled up and loaded our bags. Sylvie got her camera and money back, all intact and we were ready to get to Hongoryn Els, which is where we could ride camels. We stopped in town at a shop for more water (and chocolate for me!) but didn’t get much farther. As we pulled away from the shop the van stopped again. He pumped the gas and the engine didn’t budge. He tried to start the engine manually with a long crank through the front of the van next. We were stranded in the middle of the street, still in Dalanzadgad, and the sun was blazing down.

We got out and stood in the shade while Bogi cranked the engine. When our driver disapeared we knew there was another “big problem” and sat down to wait. Two local teenage girls had been watching the ordeal and said hello when we sa tnext to him. They warmed up to us quickly and took an interest in the drawings in my sketchbook and my family photos. More children came by and most of them seemed the most enthralled by the flowers I had pressed from the lakes. They touched the flowers gently and talked amongst themselves—there aren’t many flowers in the desert. I also find it interesting to see what area of the postcard of Chicago people are most interested in. Neema, our previous driver, had been amazed by the highway. He smiled, gave a thumbs up and said “good road!” These girls were most interested in Lake Michigan and the boats, as one would assume in the desert. Finally we watched our van being towed away with a thin rope and Sylvie took out her video camera to show the kids what she had on there.

The car was a quick fix this time and we were back on the road with only a two hour delay. The car smoked and gurgled the entire trip to the ice caves, one hour outside of town. Once we dropped into the cool mountains the engine improved and I felt a bit more confidant that we’d make it to our next town. This was already supposed to be a long day of driving and we didn’t leave Dalanzadgad until 2pm. When we arrived at the ice gorge (which is a quickly melting glacier) there were swarms of people with horses. We hadn’t heard about horses but the map made the journey look long and uphill. Because Victoria has a bad ankle I decided to take a horse along with her and Sylvie joined us. A guide grabbed my arm and put me on a horse. It wasn’t much of a ride, as we weren’t even allowed to hold the reigns and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone unless they find riding a horse exciting. The terrain was very flat and wouldn’t have been a problem for any of us to walk.

We stopped in a narrow green opening and immediately saw a thick ridge of aqua blue and white ice along the side of the mountain wall. It was quickly melting and we carefully walked out onto the ice. We couldn’t go far and when Ari climbed down she said that the ice we were standing on was really thin. The real attraction of the ice isn’t the ice but the fact that it’s there, right next to the desert. By the time we got back to the van a quickly ate some bread and jam it was 4pm. We still had about six hours of driving ahead of us and I was not excited about arriving so late.

The terrain changed a lot in this section of The Gobi. It started as mountains near the ice valley and alternated between flat desert, rocky desert, slight hills and eventually dunes and mountains. Originally the couple had wanted to spend an extra day on this trip and it was suggested to stay somewhere in-between Dalanzadgad and Hongoryn Els. We did see one green valley but I’m glad we didn’t stay there. Victoria and I had said that we didn’t want to extend the Gobi trip because we had spent so long in the lakes and were tired. Besides, what would we do for a while day in the desert? The sun is too hot to walk around and I’m not too keen on exploring such a harsh climate on my own. They gave in a few days into the trip when we got Sylvie on our side and we pushed on to Hongoryn Els.

We arrived at 9:30, earlier than I expected, but the sun had already set. We set about making our own dinner and talking to the Peace Corp volunteer that was on vacation in another ger. We ended up seeing her a few more times when we got back to UB, where she was based. Bogi burned himself on a motorcycle and we we played with what must have been the happiest baby in Mongolia. She was wandering around the desert naked with the biggest smile on her face and liked to play peek-a-boo with our ger door.

Day 5: Bayanzag
We woke up the next morning in a downpour. Not only had we seen rain in the desert, but now it was raining on the actual sand dunes. Someone’s translator had came by and asked if we wanted to go camel riding, which we did as soon as the rain let up. Finally it stopped and a large group formed and we all wondered if there would be enough camels. We were three short and one of the other groups waited for us. The camels had numbers branded onto their faces as well as backsides which seemed a bit cruel. Camels are very tall and lunge forward when they stand up. There was no saddle, only a pile of blankets to hold onto but no one fell off.

We rode a very short distance to the start of the dunes, got off and climbed to the top of the dunes ourselves. Climbing in the sand was the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time. It’s physically more difficult than running or biking because you are constantly fighting the sand that falls onto you. It took me a while but I finally made it and was glad I had only brought my point and shoot camera. Unfortunately, that camera developed a large mark in the lens or on the sensor which was very evident on light surfaces. All of my sand dune photos have a large mark right across the center.

The camel riding and dune climbing was the highlight of The Gobi trip even though it was very short. Unless you have a serious health condition I suggest really trying to climb a dune when the opportunity arises. It seems really hard and you want to turn back the entire time but in the end the view from the top is usually worth it. The rest of the day was a dash across the desert with a stop in an orange colored gorge. The heat was intense and the air near the surface looked strange, like when you’re at a gas station. We saw a serious of mirages in the distance and a few camel caravans.

Our ger was just past the Bayanzag gorge but was surrounded by flat, rocky desert. In many of the camps, like this one, the toilet was very far away. Obviously it’s good to have it far away because of the smell but you had to be careful if going at night. Even with a flashlight you were too far away to see the ger unless a light was on. It would be very easy to walk off in the wrong direction and find yourself in the middle of the dark desert. At this point the couple started to laugh and make anti-American jokes so I sat by myself to watch the sun set. It started off as a very clear light blue with bright yellow accents on the clouds and grew into a fiery orange. Right when it peaked Seba and Bogi came over and started to play frisbee right in front of me, blocking my view. I was already in a bad mood from Seba’s smoking and leaving empty cigarette packs where I could see them before the anti-American comments started so I wasn’t in a mood for socializing.

A thunderstorm rolled in near the sunset where large swaths of rain poured down. Most of the lightening was so bright it made large sections of the sky glow, highlighting the rain. Every once in a while a strike of lightening would hit among the rain, making for a spectacular show. Before we went to bed someone caught a baby hedgehog and put it in a metal tub. We looked at it up close and told them to give it water. Instead of giving it water to drink our driver threw water on top of it, scaring it. Eventually we convinced them to let it go but it was a reminder to be careful when walking around the desert.

Day 6:Erdenedalay
We had seen the desert portion of our trip and just wanted to get back to Ulaan Baatar. Unfortunately, we still had two full days of driving ahead of us. We had a seven hour driving day filled with searing heat and mirages. We still saw some camels in caravans but started to see more horses roaming around.

We pulled up to the family we would be staying with and were greeted by a smiling woman who spoke a bit of English. She was hosting her older sister’s two boys and her younger sister’s entire family on their vacation. The two boys ran around the house, played in the abandoned cars and fought the little girl with sticks. After dinner I taught Bogi to shuffle cards and the couple brought out their recorder and frisbees. Soon most of the adults as well as the children were playing frisbee in the last bit of light. The owner of the house spent most of the night negotiating making a del (the traditional gown) for Sylvie. It took about 20 minutes just to explain that she wanted a color besides purple, which seemed to be a problem.

When it started raining, a lightening storm not quite as dramatic as the previous night, the owner climbed onto the roof of or ger to secure the covering. Most of the hosts earlier that week had just let us get wet. The woman was really nice and genuine and I felt taken care of. She had even attached a Western toilet over one of the holes. It didn’t flush, but it was the thought and effort that made a difference.

Day 7: Back to Ulaan Baatar
The sixth day is probably the worst because you’ve seen so much of the desert landscape but you know that you still have another night out there. On day seven at least you can look forward to being back to the city, getting a shower and eating some fries. We saw a lot more wildlife, including eagles, cranes and gazelle as the landscape gradually turned green. After more than nine hours we were back at our guesthouse and said our goodbyes. I only wish I had gotten Bogi’s address because I think he would really appreciate a postcard from somewhere. He told me he will come to visit me in America in 10 years, I told him to keep practicing his English.

Day 1: Ulaan Baatar > Sum Khokh Burd [9 hrs in car]*
Day 2: Sum Khokh Burd > Tsagaan Suvarge (visit rock formations and canyon) [9 hrs in car]
Day 3: Tsagaan Suvarge > Dalanzadgad [7.5 hrs in car]**
Day 4: Dalanzadgad > Hongoryn Els (visit ice valley along the way) [11.5 hrs in car]***
Day 5: Hongoryn Els (camel riding) > Bayanzag (visit canyon) [6 hrs in car]
Day 6: Bayanzag > Erdenedalay [7 hrs in car]
Day 7: Erdenedalay > Ulaan Baatar [10 hrs in car]

*Our driver got lost and tried to make us sleep at a random ger
** The van broke down for 3.5 hours
***The van broke down for 2 hours

If you are planning a trip you really can’t count on the driving times you’re given. I guess they figure that if they give the real times people won’t go. Although some delays are due to breakdowns we really didn’t stop in the Gobi for bathroom breaks or pictures. Here’s a comparison of the estimated and actual times:

Day 1: 5.5 hrs estimated; 9 hrs actual
Day 2: 5.5 hrs estimated; 9 hrs actual
Day 3: 4 hrs estimated; 7.5 hrs actual
Day 4: 6 hrs estimated; 11.5 hrs actual
Day 5: 4 hrs estimated; 6 hrs actual
Day 6: 6 hrs estimated; 7 hrs actual
Day 7: 6 hrs estimated; 10 hrs actual

Cost Breakdown
140,400T —car, driver, gas
26,740T —food bought before trip
25,000T —gers (mostly small family operations)
9,000T —souvenirs
7,200T —food bought during trip
5,000T —1 hour horse ride in the ice valley
4,000T —1 hour camel ride in Hongoryn Els
800T —1 shower
—————————–
218,140T Total
$181.78 or $25.97 per day

When I think about Mongolia I envision green hills, blue skies and the Gobi Desert. Victoria, the woman I met to travel with in Mongolia, and I decided that we wanted to see all of those parts of Mongolia. It can look small on a map, dwarfed by Russia and China, but Mongolia is a big country. The lack of paved roads outside the capital and routes to the Russian and Chinese border make the country seem even bigger. Originally I wanted to find a small group of people to rent a jeep for a 22 day journey but it soon became clear that few people were staying in Mongolia for that length of time. In fact, most non-Peace Core people I met in Ulaan Baatar were staying less than seven days! Victoria and I decided to go along with the first group we found and it turned out that we visited the lakes first. This turned out to be a good decision because after ten days in a van we needed showers and some Western food to get ourselves ready for the next trip.

Our group was decided one night before: myself, Victoria—an engineer from Northern Ireland, Bob—a Texan who has been teaching at an international school in China for five years and Henry—a horse doctor from Portugal who has spent much of his life living in Macau. We roughly divided up who was going to get the butane gas for the stove, toilet paper and instant noodles and headed in our own directions.

The next morning we didn’t plan to leave until one because Bob had just arrived and wanted to rush around the city to see some sights. When we gathered at the guesthouse we discovered that another person had been added—Ho, a Buddhist monk from Singapore. I was the youngest on the trip with two of my travel partners over 40. My first impression of the group was that Bob would be a problem because he had a train to be back for and he seemed very specific about the details of the trip but he turned out to be incredibly interesting and the highlight of the group. I also thought that the monk would be a problem but he was like no monk I’ve ever observed, which gave all of us plenty to joke about.

Day 1: Karakorum
We packed our bags and food into our white Russian jeep and took off through the city. Our driver, Neema, stopped off for a spare tire on the way out of town and we were quickly surrounded by rolling green hill-like mountains covered in short, sparse grass. A paved road lead out of the city but quickly turned into a potholed mess. We had a rough idea of what sort of things we would see and how long each day’s driving would be but Neema didn’t speak English and it took us a day or two to get our routine down. Toward the end of the day we stopped at a small sand dune ( a consolation to those who wouldn’t be going to The Gobi) where I first noticed that the ground was littered with sun bleached animal bones and shoes. This would hold true for the first half of our trip, even in cities like Tsetserleg.

After a half hour at the dunes we headed on, hoping to get to Karakorum early. Those hopes were dashed along an empty road where we pulled over with a flat tire. Neema threw an extra tire out onto the ground and gestured to a pump which we all tried to use. The pump’s suction was broken and none of us were successful, not even Ho, but my triceps got a nice workout. meanwhile Neema struggled to pry the punctured tire from the axel. We took turns standing on the tire and eventually it popped free. None of us understood why he took out the intertube and replaced it instead of using the spare, but we waited and helped align the nossel but were completely useless at pumping the tire with Neema’s tiny pump. Imagine trying to inflate a completely flat intertube with a broken bicycle pump and you will understand why we were standing in the golden sunlight for over an hour.

We were all a bit worried that we had already had a flat, we apparently only had a broken pump and no one who drove by even paused to help us. Neema seemed pretty happy with himself so we continued on to Karakorum, the capital created from Chinggis Khan’s reign. As we pulled around the monastery walls the sun had disappeared and been replaced by a purple sky. We stopped to take photos before pulling into the family’s home we would be sleeping at.

In Mongolian towns each property is surrounded by a high wooden fence, sometimes made of mismatched pieces of wood and completed by a metal door. Each house has a wooden fence and metal door, never a wooden door or metal fence. Inside the yard sat a small wooden shack where the family lived, three gers for tourists and an outhouse. It was around 10pm when we arrived and our host rushed to make us dinner. Henry decided he wanted a beer and Bob and I agreed that we would have one too. The woman at the house said that it would be easy to buy one in town and asked us to get the money ready. I realized she was sending our driver and felt bad because he must have been tired. But when I tried to give him our money he gestured to the car and made me come with him. Driving in the front seat of a van with no seatbelts in the dark was pretty scary. The two stores in town resembled general stores from a Western, but with modern supplies. The shop was bustling for that late at night and I choose three beers while Neema bought what turned out to be our breakfast the next morning. Outside a young man in a cowboy hat and traditional Del robe had tied up his horse to come inside. The local children were playing basketball against wooden backboards with no lines of net.

I told Neema where I was from and it finally clicked when I said “Michael Jordan.” Surprisingly, basketball seems to be played here more often than soccer. After I mentioned Jordan Neema got really excited and gestured around, letting the van steer itself over the huge ruts in the road. When we got back dinner had been served (dumplings) and Henry complained that I had bought cans instead of bottles. I simply raised an eyebrow and started eating.

The track came and went, all dirt and a lot of it rocks. As we drove North we saw many more evergreens and more streams. Every once in a while we would climb over a mountain pass and be rewarded with a wide, green valley dotted with white gers, horses and herds of yaks, sheep and goats. One point when we stopped for a bathroom break a young herder boy came running down from the very top of the mountain. He watched us and nodded when we asked to take photos. Like most herders we saw he was wearing a baseball hat, in this case a LA Lakers hat.

Moron was bigger than the last town and quite ugly and barren. I was too lazy after the hard drive to walk down to the public shower so I washed off in the ger and waited for dinner. Some of the family members spoke some English but still weren’t able to convince us to buy their “handicrafts.”

Day 6: Khovsgol Nuur
On the way out of town we stopped by the internet (the post office) and at a Western style grocery store with a very sad produce section. At the edge of town we stopped at a surreal scene—an old man and woman sitting on stools with a a goat in front of a basketball hoop. Bob and Henry jumped ot to take photos but I decided to stay put and not overwhelm them. They were both very gracious and allowed themselves to be photographed and it’s one of the only shots I really regret not taking. I was sitting in the front seat that day so I had a window to take photos out of. The windows in the rest of the van tilted out, which made photographing anything in front of or to the side of the van impossible.

The ride North to the lake should have been short but when we arrived in the town of Khatgal we realized that the guesthouse had a partnership with a guesthouse that was about 17km away from the lake. Henry was particularly upset and insisted that we go to the lake. But, like usual, all of the complaining and negotiating was left up to the Americans and Bob and I had to talk to the guesthouse owner and Neema. He was pretty upset because he was supposed to make us stay there per our guesthouse in UB. We didn’t want to get him in trouble but the idea of having him drive us to the lake each day (we were staying two days again) was absurd. We headed up along the lake for 30 minutes before we could go no further. Apparently they didn’t do this often because Neema had to drive back to town and take another road over the mountains and around the lake to take us as far up as we wanted.

Whenever he saw a ger camp he would look at us and we would push him further. There was a town marked on our maps and in the guidebook named something like Toiglit which we were aiming for. Finally when we got there we saw only one Mongol camping ground and a tourist ger camp. The guesthouse in Khatgal had told us that it would cost closer to 15,000T to sleep on the lake and Henry had been insistent on pushing further so we assumed he was okay with a higher price. The tourist camp was full and they told us that it was closer to 30,000+ to stay there. Now we had driven for hours longer than we had planned and were tired. A local man said he had a guesthouse 8km further but we had heard that the road is almost nonexistant past Toiglit and didn’t want to push further to pay 15,000T for uncertain accommodations. I was suspicious and my intuition was really going off when the man quickly upped his price to 20,000. It seemed as if this was just a local herder who was going to rent out his ger. If I am going to pay 20,000 I would like to at least have a shower available.

Henry was very happy with the 15,000 deal and urged us to push on. The local man got a woman from the tourist camp to translate and we all sat on the ground over the map explaining it to Neema. He was very tired from the hard driving and the next trip we had to take was already going to be long before we headed further up the lake. We wanted to be sure he would be able to do it all in one day and stick to our 10-day plan. Neema was doubtful and Bob, Victoria and I didn’t want to go 8km further on a bad road to who knows what.

This was the only big conflict our group had on our trip and Ho had already said that he didn’t mind staying at an expensive place if that’s what the group wanted. Now that the local man had upped his price I wasn’t going to stay with him. Victoria, Bob and I wanted to head back towards town and stay at one of the tourist ger camps we had passed. Henry said he wouldn’t pay more than 15,000 for anything even though it was his idea to drive up to the nice area of the lake where demand is higher. I had to bring out my decisiveness and put my foot down. A lot of Europeans see it as an arrogant American trait but I’m quite proud to stand up for what I want. I told everyone “that’s it, we’re going back to the other camp.” Henry pouted and grumbled and Neema worried and promised Henry he could sleep in the van. Well, that “wasn’t acceptable” to Henry so all I could figure was that he wanted his cake and to eat it too. I just said “It’s 4-1, we’re leaving. Come on Neema.”

Neema wasn’t impressed with the mess we had made earlier so when we pulled up to The Blue Pearl he told us to stay put and rely on his negotiating skills. The camp was surprisingly empty and Neema negotiated 10,000 a person per night. The camp had around 20 gers decked out in traditional wooden Mongolian beds that were elaborately and colorfully painted. The staff was wonderful, running around lighting our stoves (it was quite cold) and taking care of us. The rock bottom price didn’t include our showers or food but we were given two gers for the 5-person group (Victoria and I made the boys sleep together) and Neema even negotiated a ger for himself! It was all around an excellent decision and I’m glad I stood up to Henry. I suspect he was just used to getting his own way all of the time.

Bob investigated and figured out we could still order from the restaurant. He wasn’t traveling an a backpacker budget and wanted something besides the instant noodles (ramen) we had brought with us. We order every meal two hours in advance and were rewarded with gorgeous meals. I had gulash one night and a meat patty the next. All of the meals were served with a potato, vegetables and extras. We also tried the potato and carrot salads—all excellent. This place deserves a special write up in guidebooks because of the food alone but the only thing written in The Lonely Planet is that it caters to Korean and Japanese tour groups. The staff was attentive and spoke a bit of English as well.

We were originally going to go horse riding but I was still sore from the horses at White Lake and the ride to Moron so I declined. I think the camp was disappointed to not make a lot of money on horse tours but they were happy when we decided not to drive back to town the second day and stay our second day at the camp. Neema was so happy up there, he even tried to learn Victoria’s tin whistle. He often has to sleep in his van so he had it made. The three of us also chipped in to buy him some meals and he was fine staying a second night. I washed some clothes with lake water and hung them on our ger to dry. After a morning of painting by the lake (and being overrun by a herd of animals) Bob, Victoria and I headed up a clearing in the evergreens to find the top of the mountain. Victoria turned back part way up but I kept telling myself that the view would be worth it. There was a section that was quite steep but every time I stopped I got eaten by mosquitoes. There were no bugs by the lake but many hiding under the trees.

We made it to the top and discovered that what we thought was simply tree line actually was a large hill in front of the mountain and there was no way for us to go any higher. I picked the little wildflowers I saw along the way and we headed back down racing a thunderstorm. Every night at the lakes we had thunderstorms that were quite impressive. Because the sky is so vast you can see the storm coming from about an hour away. Huge swaths of grey stream down in patches and lightening glows behind the mountains. Everything I have read describes Khovsgol as the gem of Mongolia and the most beautiful lake in the country. It is very beautiful, surrounded by tree-covered mountains but it isn’t quite everything it’s made out to be. Getting very far up the lake requires a horse and there are no snow capped mountains anywhere in sight. It looks like the sort of scene yo