Mongolia to Beijing

Hello everyone,



--Note: facebook isn't working, so I can't update my status or post on your wall. I can read posts that you write me in my e-mail, but I can't reply. Please comment on this blog or send me an e-mail! I love to hear from you wherever you all are!--



--I finally managed to upload some photos:



Moscow - http://www3.snapfish.nl/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1164057010/a=1514103010_1514103010/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/



Transsiberian Express pt. 1 -

http://www3.snapfish.nl/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1164612010/a=1514103010_1514103010/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/



Irkutsk - Listvyanka - Bolshie Koty - http://www3.snapfish.nl/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1164713010/a=1514103010_1514103010/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/

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On Sunday morning we left on our 4 day tour of Mongolia, starting in Ulan Baator. As we drove out of the city, the landscape immediately turned empty and green. Some gers stand in the valleys, a lonely man gallups past on his horse. Herds of cattle block the road and our driver, Bal, has to honk to move them out of the way. A horse lay dead by the side of the road and vultures feast on its carcass. The contrast with Ulan Baator couldnt be greater. (The apostrophe on Erwins keyboard isnt working; im not a spelling maniac).



We quickly moved onto unpaved roads and Bal skillfully dodged enormous potholes and quickly moves us over the inhospitable landscape. Our translator and guide, Enhtin, tells us he lives in a ger most of the year, but moves to the city in the summer to drive around tourists. She herself lived in a ger until she was 10, when her parents moved to the city. She is 20 now and studies English; these trips are a way for her to practice her English and to earn some pocket money. I dont know how much longer she has to study, but her English is broken and she often doesnt understand our questions. She just nods or laughs and starts talking about something else. She was very sweet.



In the meantime, as we move further away from the city, signs of human life become more rare. I see a man walking over a small dirt path. I look around, but see no ger, no other human being. I wonder where he is going.



We stopped for lunch. In a village of about 12 gers, one functions as the village kitchen, and they serve one meal: noodles with carrots and mutton. We watched as the meat was cut fresh from the bone and the noodles made from scratch. Like most things in Mongolia it tastes very salty, but good. We are also served salty milk with some tea. It is odd, but not as revolting as it sounds.



We step back into the car and the driver turns on a casette tape. It is Western music with hilarious lyrics. After -Belfast- he plays -Brown girl in the rain-, with the same tralalala as -Bier en tieten- and -Painterman-. When the fourth song, Holiday, plays, Jet says she recognizes it as Boney M. We tell her she is crazy. Surely we wouldnt be listening to obscure 70s Dutch/German music in the Mongolian wilderness. We ask our guide what this is. She says something that sounds dangerously much like -Is Boney group. Is very popular in Mongolia-. Still, we dont believe it. But before long we were singing along to Daddy Cool, River of Babylon, Sonny, and the unforgettable Ra Ra Rasputin (Lover of the Russian queen / There was a cat that really was fun / Ra Ra Rasputin / Russias greatest love machine / it was a shame how he carried on).



We arrived at Oigy lake. It is very high this year, because of the great amount of rain. Our ger stands next to that of our host family. Other than these two tents, there is not much in sight. Much further on we see some more people, but this is really our own secluded spot. We headed to the lake, planning to jump in. A few metres before we reach the water, we sink ankledeep into deep grey clay. It is exactly like the mud you might see rich Europeans smear over their face because they think it keeps them young. Maybe our feet will be extra healthy after this little endeavour.



Shortly after, I walked into our ger to hear that there had just been a fight. Apparently our guide had been fighting with our host family and had told Jet that we were moving. We waited to see what was happening. Not much later Enhtin came in crying. She told us we were leaving. We were quickly rushed to the car and sat there as Enhtin and Bal were still fighting and calling our hostel for help. In the end, they joined us in the car and we drove off. We hoped they knew where we were going, and we imagined we might be sleeping in the car. After about 45 minutes we stopped at a wall. Was this where we were going to sleep? It looked quite old. Enhtin led the way, and we were shown to a sort of Mongolian Rosetta stone. After all this drama, we were sightseeing. The tension dropped away and we happily drove on to our destination: the next town on our schedule, and a nice dinner of dumplings in our own ger.



The next day we visited Khar Korin's ancient temple. Enhtin tried to tell us about what we were seeing, but didn't manage a lot, because her English was simply too basic. While we listened to her going on about '17th century. Water paint on wool.', we looked at the lovely old buildings and enjoyed the Mongolian sunshine.



I could go on and on about Mongolia. My travel diary is loaded with stories about it. Seeing as I'm writing this in Beijing, and I have a long ways to go before this post is complete, I'll just summarize it by saying that it's an astonishingly beautiful country. The peace and quiet of it is overwhelming for a city boy like me. The lack of rules makes you feel like you can do anything and go anywhere. Even though there is very little to do in the middle of nowhere, it feels like a land of endless possibilities and opportunities.



It was quite a shock, then, to come back to the intense ugliness of Ulan Baator's suburbs. The hostel only had cold water, so our first shower in four days was a freezing cold one. However, on the bright side, we were assigned a small appartment all to ourselves, only sharing it with a Canadian family consisting of two parents and their 4-year-old child who was super-cute. As soon as I walked in the door he handed me a transformer toy and told me I was playing with that one. He was very well raised and offered us some of his Disney stickers. When we left the next day he even left us a candy bar for the train.



His parents were just as nice. They were experienced travellers and we suspect they might be filthy rich, even though they were staying in this simple hostel. The man, Cory, was in the hotel business. His wife was a Cantonese TV-star! Before reaching China we had reached one of our targets, set by our Chinese teacher, to meet a famous Chinese person! She was very nice and even offered to arrange a visit to a film set in Beijing. We didn't end up taking her up on her offer, since it was hard to reach her and we were busy, but they were supernice and told us about all the nice places to visit, all over the world.



It was a short night's sleep, and we were back on the train. The train was uneventful. The border to China was similar to the Russian one; filling in lots of forms, saying you aren't ill or transporting nuclear goods. A man came to check my bag this time (not the girls' bags), but gave up looking after I boringly showed him large piles of clothes and toiletries. He didn't notice the book I brought in my hand luggage which is forbidden in China. The most beautiful part of the Trans Siberian journey was saved for the end; near Beijing we passed through some mountains, following a beautiful little mountain stream. As it meandered through the valley, we followed it through many tunnels cut into the hillside. From time to time, a train in the other direction could be seen passing on the other end of the stream. It was ridiculously picturesque, and our last smog-free look of China until after Beijing.



We arrived in Beijing in sweltering heat, not knowing where to go for a taxi or bus or subway or anything that would move us in the right direction. The line for taxis turned out to be about 200 sweating Westerners long. We walked for a bit and found a lovely little taxi standplace where we quickly were able to grab a 1 euro taxi ride to our hostel.



My first impression of Beijing was that it was far more orderly than I had expected. The traffic wasn't nearly as chaotic. It was busy, yet there seemed to be a smooth flow in the masses of Chinese walking around the city. It's nicely modern, built in a style that is nor uniform nor ugly. Unfortunately, cultural tradition has had to suffer from the crushing pressure of modernity, and there are very few authenticaly old Beijingnese places left.



We took a delightful shower and headed out. We walked through Wangfujing Dajie, one of Beijing's main shopping streets. This was modern Beijing at its fines: Western luxury brands combined with McDonalds and KFC. It was quite awful. However, right next to this street we found a small market, a charming mix of souvenirs, sweets, and odd foods. The small alleys were jam packed, yet I didn't feel threatened by pickpockets like in UB. Me and Erwin had some roasted grasshoppers, which tasted mainly like crispy air in Chili powder. Still, it was our first 'weird' food, and we were happy we kept it in.



We walked to Tiananmen square. It's big. That's about it. A large, emtpy square with Mao's embalmed body in a heavily protected building in the middle. When we were there, two parents forced their child to sit next to us for a picture. It was our first experience with this strange phenomenon: strangers keep coming up to us Westerners to take pictures with us. At least these people asked us nicely; most people simply stand in front of you or behind you, and take a picture right there in front of you, seemingly without feeling any form of embarassment. Once, during dinner, a child was dropped in my lap, screaming because she didn't want to. It was absolutely horrifying.



We had dinner in a small, local restaurant, with plastic furniture and TL-lights. It was gloriously ignored by Western tourists. Again, we were stared at, but we very much enjoyed the food and the friendly service. We paid 2 euro per person for dinner and a drink. Our first experience with cheap meals, but certainly not our last.



We spend our nights sitting in the traveller's cafe in our hostel. Beijing doesn't have many bars (Chinese drink and play cards in parks at night), but this bar is very nice and atmospheric, although your order takes absolutely ages to be processed by the lovely yet completely incompetent staff.



However, Beijing has much more to offer than a Western style living room cafe. We spend our days walking through the city until our legs are too tired, in which case we sit down for a cheap refreshment or bite to eat. Beijing's streets are usually the best fun when you get there by accident. For example, I spotted the 'Beijing movie town' on our map. The guidebook said nothing about this spot, and we had no idea whether it would be any good, but having a free afternoon, we went there anyway. On the way from the subway to this supposed movie town, we came across a great little Chinese neighbourhood that clearly never saw any tourists. The streets were lined with market stalls selling fruit. We spotted a hair salon, and me and Erwin got a haircut. It took some hand- and footwork to show them how we wanted our hair to be cut, but they did a great job and my hair was wonderfully washed and cut. There was a great commotion in the store because these Westerners had come in, but everyone enjoyed it, and the barbers gladly posed for pictures with us. Cost for this treatment: 1 euro. I probably won't postpone going to the hair dresser here quite as much as I do in Holland. The Beijing movie town was shit, by the way.



That night we ate at a hotpot restaurant. Unfortunately, they had no English menu and we asked our waitress, again mainly with hands and feet, to choose for us. We were served huge piles of meats and vegetables to dip into our hotpot, consisting of boiling water and some spices, and dipped everything in a sauce that tasted like peanut butter. This hotpot wasn't especially great, but this way of eating is very nice and social; I can't wait to taste Sichuan hotpot; a very spicy version of this phenomenon.



The next day we rented bikes and saw Beijing the Dutch way. We cycled past the forbidden city and to a park where we relaxed and where the newly joined and jetlagged Loes was fitted with a kitschy hat and headscarf by a lovely elderly Chinese woman. Again, I felt like a fairground attraction, with people taking photos of us left, right, and center.



We cycled through Beijing's hutongs (small, old alleys). The disappearance of English signs or the appearance of grammatically weak ones usually means you are nearing an interesting part of Beijing. Where tourists don't go, you can find the real charm of Beijing.



At night we went to eat Beijing duck, another of those things you have to do in Beijing. It was tasty, although the dish of the day which I keep in my travel diary was not the duck; it was the spiced beans with fried pork. It was the best dish I had in Beijing. This was the first restaurant with great atmosphere (as was reflected in the hefty price of 7 euro per person). It was situated in the middle of a lovely park, and we sat on the roof terrace surrounded by green, shortly imagining we were outside this busy city.



The next day we got up early in the morning to visit the forbidden city. It was our first encounter with Chinese mass tourism. At 9 o'clock, the place was filled with people. At the more important temples, large crowds were crushing each other to snap the perfect picture of a royal throne or of a certain engraving. We hesitated for a moment, but Erwin and I quickly joined the scuffle, not for the pictures but for the fun of pushing our way through the Chinese. We followed our audio tour for about 3 hours and then gave up. We had seen less than half of the Forbidden City, but our attention spans were at an end. It's simply too big to see all at once, and the audio guide's droning voice didn't help matters much.



We walked to Qianmen, a neighbourhood in central Beijing that is partly old and partly rebuilt in an old-fashioned style. There are quirky little shops everywhere selling food and clothes. One street was filled with sex shops ('shop of the sex', one sign read). The area was under construction; old streets were being torn down and rebuilt in classic style. Where there really is very little point in tearing down old buildings only to replace them with old-looking ones, at least it is better than Westernizing the neighbourhood and making it part of the monotony of any modern city. This felt like China compromising, and accepting its old self as legitimate cultural heritage.



We ate in another small plastic furnitured restaurant, and without an English menu, simply pointed at random dishes. It was lovely, although miraculously we had ordered a bit more seaweed than was necessarily our choice.



We got up at 6am for a trip to the Great Wall of China. When an Englishman had wanted to borrow our Lonely Planet guide in our hostel, we asked him if he knew a nice place to visit the great wall, perhaps circumventing the great crowds. 'I really shouldn't be saying this,' he told us, 'because I'm good friends with the owners of this hostel. But there is another hostel that has a 'secret wall' tour where you visit a quiet area of the wall where no-one goes.' This sounded marvellous. We booked the tour and indeed, we were driven to a small village where a local guide, age 74 but very vibrant man, sped off into the hills, leaving us breaking a sweat trying to keep up with him. We walked a steep path up the hill into the low clouds, until behind one corner appeared the wall. It was in its natural, crumbling state, and we walked along it for a few kilometers, coming across no-one else. At the top of the hill, a man had set up a small tourist stall with some t-shirts and postcards. We bought the postcards simply to support this local hero, who had set up shop in the middle of nowhere, instead of in one of the busy tourist destinations where thousands of Chinese would come thundering by his stall every day. We walked down the hill and into our guide's village, where we were served a delicious lunch. We chatted with the others in our tour group, and headed home. It was a perfect excursion, and I would very much recommend it to anyone planning on visiting Beijing.



Today we visited Beijing's summer palace, another old centre of imperial Chinese government. It was much nicer than the Forbidden City; not so crowded, and much more relaxed. Central to the summer palace is a beautiful lake which we walked by and on which we pedaled our water bike. We glanced at the buildings, which were beautiful, but mainly had a relaxed afternoon, away from the busy centre of Beijing.



We spent the rest of the afternoon in the cafe, waiting until we could take the train to Qingdao, our next stop. Qingdao is the centre of the national beer festival in August, so we will have come at the right time. For now, zaijian, and I'll try to update again soon.