Heading further into the vastness

We didn't have alot of Mongolian, they didn't have alot of English, so the next day we were able to decipher that we were going on a trip, 10km away in truck. Why was a bit ambiguous. There was cutting involved and the number five and grandma. Were we going to shear sheep? No. Someone's turning 5. Is grandma shearing sheep? Everyone got into there Sunday best and we piled into the back of a big blue truck - 13 adults and 5 children. More blue skies, blaring sun and vastness.

Lots of dust...... and a flat tyre.

We arrived at another few white dots in the landscape and a celebration. It transpires, a little guy had just turned five and as was tradition, his mane had to be chopped off. We sat about inside the ger with an assortment of friends and family. He wept uncontrollably at the indignanty, eyes firmly fixed on the roof of the ger, too proud to look at anyone. The scissors were passed around, he was moved along and each individual chopped a piece of his hair which was then placed in a bag around his neck. In exchange, he received gifts and money. As he went along, these proved to be of interest and the wailing lessened. There was food and fermented milk, which strangely tasted like wine and then we whitey's decided to make room for the steady stream of newcomers and left the ger. Did I mention the sun? We desperately found some shade - in the pitiful shadow of a ger.

We also went for a walk up the hill
And found that birthday boy was a likely direct descendant of Chingis Khan. The terror had no problems hitting with a stick, kicking and battering anything in sight. Including us... The other kids were still cute and surprisingly did more disciplining of him then any of the adults.

When our hosts were done, we piled back into the back of the truck for the journey home. Along the way we stopped so that a lamb could be singled out and captured from within a herd of sheep, as well as to pick up a motorcycle. Somehow we all fit.

It was mental. But, you just had to roll with it. And reapply the sunscreen. On returning, we were told to clean ourselves up as we neededto be taken to our next family. Down to the river for a wash!

Mongolia and the nomads

Joining a gang with similar interests, a trip was booked in the nearby countryside with view to getting into it ASAP and experiencing nomadic life. This was done through a group called Ger-to-Ger (who are a bunch of %*@*$!) and the next 5 days proved to be a roller coaster of disappointment, frustration and wonderful experiences.

We took a public bus to Terelj National Park and had a very 'snug' journey- wedged between bags and locals. One elderly fellow was using me as a standing post and I had to firmly anchor myself to keep both of us upright. No, it's not that he's losing his balance with the ageing process - he was able to communicate through mime that vodka had been consumed. Not a selfish character, he did also pull out the bottle and shot glass, attempting to share with the rest of the bus. On arriving at the last bus stop we came across a local and let him know that we wanted to camp. He was kind enough to walk us to a beautiful spot.

Waking bright and early and excited at the prospect of meeting the first nomadic family we were going to stay with. We then waited 6 hours in the dust and sun, waiting to get picked up. We didn't get picked up. We couldn't figure out why. Back we went to our spot and camp was set up again. We were despondent and running out of food and water. Maybe we would just have to free camp on our own.....

The next day we rang the *@#&*!! and, I won't bore you with details, but we eventually found ourselves on the back of an ox cart, crossing vast open spaces "little house on the prairies" style.

Eighteen kms and I don't know how many hours in the blaring sun, we found ourselves with our first family. The man of the ger was 31, his wife 28 and they had two kids. Grandma was in another ger up the hill and friend's with kids were also about. We set up our tents and were sat down to a traditional Mongolian craft lesson. Whilst ma then cooked up dinner, we hung out with and corrupted the kids. It all seemed pretty innocent, kicking a ball around, teaching ring-a-rosie, hand clapping games and a bit of picking them up and spinning them about. All good until they picked up by the hands their 1 year old little brother and spun him about violently in an unrestrained manner. What brilliant fun we had shown them! We all jumped in with a no! put him down! and managed to wrestle him off them. The poor fella looked bewildered and dazed and on placing him on his feet, found that he was unable to stand. We then had to lay him down on his back and all peered down at him in concern - a spinning mass of white faces, no doubt.

The Train Journey begins!

An early start and a bit of effort found me on the train. My friends in second class, me feeling slightly guilty in first class - slightly - AND I had the cabin all to myself!

Much sleep, knitting and reading was had in the 36 hours to Ulan Bataar.

And much gazing out the window.....

There was a bit of desert, alot of vast green steppe and the obligatory middle of the night customs/border patrol processes. Hate them, hate them. In the middle of the night! It's 2:30-3:00 before you can sleep. Plus they changed the "wheels".

And then finally - Ulan Bataar

THE wall

What can I tell you about the wall that you don't already know? No, it can't be seen from the moon. There is no 'single' wall and it was not built all at once, but is instead a number of sections across the country, many intersecting, built using different materials and methods by different dynasties. And it is a pain in the arse for the Chinese to maintain.


The section I visited was found between Simatai and Jinshangling - 110km NE of the city. It took about 3 hours to get there and is a 10km walk within this section. Much of it is unreconstructed and it took the group 2-3 hours to cross. Many parts are extremely steep, the wall taking a path between the steepest points of the range and the steps often ridiculously spaced. Often we were scrambling up with hands and feet. The views were amazing, unfortunately, I don't think photo's do it justice.
Dead tired by the end of the day and another early start for the next day. Thirty six hour train journey to Monglia.... I'll sleep on the train.

Beijing

Beijing is just huge. I know it's well known, but really! About 15 million inhabitants and the size of Luxembourg. It is a nightmare to cross above ground. I caught a bus back from the summer palace just to check things out and found it to be a long and painful journey. There are some roads which are about 6-8 lanes across (difficult to tell, as no one stays in lanes and things get very messy). The subway, however, is a thing of beauty. I keep stopping to question why China has such great public transport and I can't get it in Melbourne. An express train to the station at least!

Anyway, in the end I only had 2 days in Beijing (you need 7, I'm told). One day was to see the wall, so only one other precious day was available. Forbidden city? Sounds like a bit of a bore. Tiannemen Square? It's just there. An expanse of concrete where the state slaughtered their own and hosed away the blood. Little appeal. So the summer palace it was.

The summer palace sits around a lake on the outskirts of central Beijing. The emperors of various dynasties would hang out there, you guessed it, in the summer. It has been destroyed and restored (you want details and historic facts, you've got wikipedia) and is now where locals and domestic tourist flock to on a weekend. I was there on a weekend and a 31 degree day. I wasn't handling the hoards very well. Domestic tourists can be loud and push, use umbrellas for sun shade and don't mind poking you in the head with them.








It's pretty amazing and I'm glad I visited, but was also very glad to leave.






Not wanting to waste any of my precious time, I signed up for an acrobat show in the evenings and was not disappointed. Highlights included a girl working on a suspended hoop - extremely moving and graceful performance, and a metal sphere with motorcycles riding around within it simultaneously, at ridiculous speeds - a gut wrenching, mental performance.

Brown Skies and warriors - Xia'an

A quick zip in a plane and I landed in the north of China. Xia'an. Home to the famed terracotta warriors. With only 2 weeks in China and not having 36 hours on a bus to spare, I opted for air travel. Xia'an was depressing on first impressions - a particularly bad day of air quality, everything appearing brown. It prompted me to gloomily ponder the price of "economic progress".

I settled into the hostel, hooked up with other travellers and decided on a self run tour to see the warriors. Still feeling a bit under the weather, I made it out to the large complex to check out the workings of a child's imagination.

On returning to central Xia'an, me and a French traveller decided to explore the Muslim quarter and were rewarded with entry into the peaceful gardens of a Chinese mosque.

Most fascinating was the Chinese architecture, being so used to Arabic representations of Islamic structures. Outside the walls fo the mosque was a different story. Crowded streets, souvenir and food stalls, meat meat meat -grilled or even lying around in chunks on concrete.

We tried some street foods and sampled all manner of desserts.



Sated and extra extra tired, we headed back to home base and were treated to the bell tower lit up at night.
I really, really have to get some rest. But Beijing tomorrow and I need to see the wall!

Dali, food and shopping

The bus to Dali took me through some amazing countryside and I tried to take photo's between sneezing and blowing my nose.

I felt no shame in repeatedly blowing my nose in public as I was in a country where citizens regularly hojked phlegm through their nasal passages and throat to deliver the contents at your feet.

The bus dropped me outside one fo the town gates. Which? Was the big question. East, West, North, South? If I could figure that out, I could figure out where my accommodation was. It was hot and I wandered around fruitlessly with a heavy backpack and a runny nose. An Australian man experiencing a mid life crisis chanced upon me and was able to sort out my quandry. He pointed out the streets for good noodles, bike rentals and tourist tat, leaving me to attend a massage appointment.

The gods smiled on me again. I received an upgrade in my room at no extra cost. Private ensuite and big comfy bed. Much needed, as I spent enough time over the next few days in it.
Old Dali sits in a slice of land between a mountain range and a lake. This generations Shangri La where ganga abounds and washed out, scabby westerners wander about having long forgotten where they were going and when they were supposed to be there. I was hoping to do some outdoor exploring, but it wouldn't be happening.

However, Dali is a really pleasant place to be and I ventured out for short spells to eat and shop.

The idea here is that you pick ingredients from the basins and tanks and they make you a meal. the lady kept gesturing to the fish tank and I kept averting my eyes. Although I do eat fish, I couldn't face the immediacy of what was being proposed. I would point the finger of death, take a seat and the same googly eyed, fried in garlic and chilli face would be staring back at me within moments. Because you know there'd be no smoke and mirrors, 'let me just fillet this for you ma'am' business about it. Out the front of many restaurants in China you will find cages and tanks with all sorts of animals for your eating pleasure and yes, dog can be served upto you in a restaurant if that is your want. My favorite story is that of a traveller who was encouraged by a local to try the river rat "Very tasty.... also...... very cute!". How's that for a sales pitch?

I went the tofu, mushroom and morning glory option. I then learned that rather then combing the ingredients to make a single dish, they made a dish out of each.
All really tasty, the cook had opted for a range of flavours - garlic, ginger and chilli with each respective dish. I made a valiant attempt to at least make a dent in the contents of each plate, moving food around strategically when this failed.

The next day I was fascinated by the method used by a street vendor to make noodles and decided I had to try it.

She attacks gelatinous masses with a special grater like instrument to produce the noodles.

















She spoons on crushed peanuts, pickled vegetables and a variety of sauces and you have a really tasty, spicy meal for about 50 cents.







Some of you are aware of my new obsession. Knitting and even more so, yarn. I was so excited to come across a shop and my spirits were lifted by the purchase of a lovely blue bundle of yarn. That's OK. You don't have to understand.