Day 41:
Okay, this hostel is pretty nice during the day. It's got a relaxed atmosphere and very clean facilities. And although the breakfast is bad, everyone sleeps late because of the nighttime boozing, so the morning are quiet. Overall, I'd say it is a bit nicer than Saga Hostel in Beijing.
The name, for Google's sake is "Bell Tower Hostel." It's beside the post office.
Xi'an, also, is nice enough overall. For more than a thousand years, Xi'an was at the heart of the Chinese nation, serving as capital for many, many centuries. Past emperors have left behind many tangible signs of power, including the famous army of Terracotta Warriors and an impressive 16 kilometer wall that surrounds the central city.
There is a very nice Muslim quarter here, which is where I spent most of my morning. There's a strip of merchants selling the usual trinkets, but also a slew of wonderful alleyways and cobblestone paths to explore. Those pathways contain a lot of great local eateries and I was able to gorge myself on tofu, squash and cabbage for about seventy-five US cents. This town's mosque, the largest in China, is also a treat, with pretty gardens and a massive prayer hall.
More of Xi'an tomorrow, as well as a train into the west.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Day 40:
Fun local festival today!
I got up nice and early today and took a local bus to Jiezhou. Jiezhou is a very small city, but is famous as the possible birthplace of Guan Yu, a fourth (third?) century Chinese general, whose exploits in the "Three Kingdoms" era earned him reverence as a sort of God of War (and a place as a character in lots of video games, like "Dynasty Warriors" and "Destiny of an Emperor"). There is a temple to his honor in Jiezhou called Guandian Miao. It's a neat spot for a day trip, and I was lucky enough to arrive during the annual Guan Yu festival! The festival was very charming in it's localness: outside the temple, the streets were filled with the usual merchants selling the usual clothes and household implements, while inside the dancing and musical performances were charmingly amateurish.
Finishing up my day at the temple, I hopped on a five hour bus to Xi'an, where I am writing from. My hostel is nice, but sort of loud. It's sort of a bar with some beds upstairs. "Drop it like it's hot" is the song of the moment. Oy...
Fun local festival today!
I got up nice and early today and took a local bus to Jiezhou. Jiezhou is a very small city, but is famous as the possible birthplace of Guan Yu, a fourth (third?) century Chinese general, whose exploits in the "Three Kingdoms" era earned him reverence as a sort of God of War (and a place as a character in lots of video games, like "Dynasty Warriors" and "Destiny of an Emperor"). There is a temple to his honor in Jiezhou called Guandian Miao. It's a neat spot for a day trip, and I was lucky enough to arrive during the annual Guan Yu festival! The festival was very charming in it's localness: outside the temple, the streets were filled with the usual merchants selling the usual clothes and household implements, while inside the dancing and musical performances were charmingly amateurish.
Finishing up my day at the temple, I hopped on a five hour bus to Xi'an, where I am writing from. My hostel is nice, but sort of loud. It's sort of a bar with some beds upstairs. "Drop it like it's hot" is the song of the moment. Oy...
Day 39:
I spent today and yesterday around the city of Yuncheng. I've gone off the map a little bit - this place gets scant few inches of text in my Lonely Planet, and NO street map. I've come to see a pair of temples, so far having made it to one, which was very impressive.
The city here is dirty. Both environmentally and, shall we say, aesthetically. There's lots of industry in the suburbs - big chugging coal plants and the remnants of a salt industry that crapped out in the 1970s. There is no "keep our streets tidy" mentality here (and in much of the Chinese countryside) - litter goes not in waste baskets, but rather on the ground. This is natural and normal. At night, the streets are a sea of plastic hubris and food remains. But while the streets at night are very dirty, they are also quite alive and bustling places. This is good. But the nightlife here is not vibrant like in a bazaar, or youthful like Beijing at night - it's more an expression of common people doing very plain things. Again, this is good.
So, yeah, late last night I tried to tell the non-English speaking hotel staff that I wanted to get to a temple to the north of here. Of course, she couldn't help me, but at about ten that night she sent to my room another hotel guest, who was able to fill me in on the details. The guest was a university professor from Leiden University in the Netherlands, and a fluent speaker of Chinese. He's presently travelling in China with his son, for pleasure and a bit of research. He was also kind enough to let me tag along with him to Yongle temple (my desired destination) for the day.
The Temple proved to be an impressive sight. It's a twelfth century Taoist creation that is best known for it's great murals - large, detailed and continuous (wrapping around three walls) depictions of Taoist figures and of twelfth century Chinese life. Reasonably well preserved, the architecture of the temple is similarly impressive, but it is almost entirely that artwork that draws people to the temple. And making it more compelling for me, my guide filled me in on the history and unanswered questions that surround the site. Curiously, he pointed out that while the Chinese are very good at preservation,m they aren't so skilled at researching what they preserve. They can say "this is very old and beautiful," but can't say much about what a historical sight MEANS.
So, that took up most of my day. I did a bit of planning for the next few weeks (more on that later), and then went back to the hotel. One more temple (and a festival, perhaps) tomorrow, followed by a fast bus to Xi'an.
I spent today and yesterday around the city of Yuncheng. I've gone off the map a little bit - this place gets scant few inches of text in my Lonely Planet, and NO street map. I've come to see a pair of temples, so far having made it to one, which was very impressive.
The city here is dirty. Both environmentally and, shall we say, aesthetically. There's lots of industry in the suburbs - big chugging coal plants and the remnants of a salt industry that crapped out in the 1970s. There is no "keep our streets tidy" mentality here (and in much of the Chinese countryside) - litter goes not in waste baskets, but rather on the ground. This is natural and normal. At night, the streets are a sea of plastic hubris and food remains. But while the streets at night are very dirty, they are also quite alive and bustling places. This is good. But the nightlife here is not vibrant like in a bazaar, or youthful like Beijing at night - it's more an expression of common people doing very plain things. Again, this is good.
So, yeah, late last night I tried to tell the non-English speaking hotel staff that I wanted to get to a temple to the north of here. Of course, she couldn't help me, but at about ten that night she sent to my room another hotel guest, who was able to fill me in on the details. The guest was a university professor from Leiden University in the Netherlands, and a fluent speaker of Chinese. He's presently travelling in China with his son, for pleasure and a bit of research. He was also kind enough to let me tag along with him to Yongle temple (my desired destination) for the day.
The Temple proved to be an impressive sight. It's a twelfth century Taoist creation that is best known for it's great murals - large, detailed and continuous (wrapping around three walls) depictions of Taoist figures and of twelfth century Chinese life. Reasonably well preserved, the architecture of the temple is similarly impressive, but it is almost entirely that artwork that draws people to the temple. And making it more compelling for me, my guide filled me in on the history and unanswered questions that surround the site. Curiously, he pointed out that while the Chinese are very good at preservation,m they aren't so skilled at researching what they preserve. They can say "this is very old and beautiful," but can't say much about what a historical sight MEANS.
So, that took up most of my day. I did a bit of planning for the next few weeks (more on that later), and then went back to the hotel. One more temple (and a festival, perhaps) tomorrow, followed by a fast bus to Xi'an.
Day 38
Day 38:
Pingyao proved to be a real treat! It is, indeed, a very historic feeling place. While Beijing's old alleyways and courtyard homes are being demolished in anticipation of the 2008 Olympic games, Pingyao has been declared a UNESCO heritage site, and remains now and forever a ramshackle collection of cobblestones, courtyard homes and narrow streets, all surrounded by a six kilometer city wall constructed during the Ming dynasty.
The town is very touristed, but unlike Beijing that isn't so distracting. The touts and hawkers are more relaxed here, which helps a lot. Feeling quite content, I spent my time hobbling around the town, poking my head into "antique" shops, eating lots of food and tracing the path of that very impressive city wall.
This morning I boarded a train south to Yuncheng. That trip was yet another railway adventure. I purchased a standing room only ticket, which was cheap and the only ticket available. The Chinese rail system remains both cheap and accessible by way of this "fourth class" ticket which is sold in unlimited quantities. Fitting upwards of 100 people into carriages made for 40, passengers board at the whistle stops in a flurry of pushing, yelling and elbowing, as everyone desperately clamors about looking for a place to sit, or lean or even stand without suffering too much stress.
I, of course, stood (cramped) for all of the five hour journey.
Pingyao proved to be a real treat! It is, indeed, a very historic feeling place. While Beijing's old alleyways and courtyard homes are being demolished in anticipation of the 2008 Olympic games, Pingyao has been declared a UNESCO heritage site, and remains now and forever a ramshackle collection of cobblestones, courtyard homes and narrow streets, all surrounded by a six kilometer city wall constructed during the Ming dynasty.
The town is very touristed, but unlike Beijing that isn't so distracting. The touts and hawkers are more relaxed here, which helps a lot. Feeling quite content, I spent my time hobbling around the town, poking my head into "antique" shops, eating lots of food and tracing the path of that very impressive city wall.
This morning I boarded a train south to Yuncheng. That trip was yet another railway adventure. I purchased a standing room only ticket, which was cheap and the only ticket available. The Chinese rail system remains both cheap and accessible by way of this "fourth class" ticket which is sold in unlimited quantities. Fitting upwards of 100 people into carriages made for 40, passengers board at the whistle stops in a flurry of pushing, yelling and elbowing, as everyone desperately clamors about looking for a place to sit, or lean or even stand without suffering too much stress.
I, of course, stood (cramped) for all of the five hour journey.
Day 36, 37
Yesterday I left Beijing on a lunchtime train heading west to Shijazhuang. I got up early, though, and was able to fit in a bit more sightseeing, primarily at a public park just north of the Forbidden City. It was a pretty sight, with it's immaculate gardens and plastic paddle boats zipping around an artificial lake system, but again, it's all a little emblematic of how Beijing can sometimes be a turn off - big crowds and souvenir hawkers everywhere. I don't mean to suggest that Beijing is a place to be avoided, but rather that it takes a bit of work to enjoy one's self there.
Past noon-time, I boarded a fast train to Shijazhuang. That was a treat! The short haul trains from the capital are FAST and very comfortable. In two hours I covered as much ground as would have taken six on any of the other trains I've used so far. Arriving in Shijazhuang, I was greeted by a very pleasant downtown core. Even the area surrounding the train station was clean and quiet, something that is rare in ANY country.
So, other than the provincial museum (I skipped it), Shizahuang's sole "sight" is it's Revolutionary Martyr's Mausoleum. That, fortunately, is the sole reason I decided to visit the city. Entombed here is Norman Bethune, a Canadian doctor and communist party member who served in the Chinese army during the war against Japan. Bethune was a True Believer - he lead the Canadian medical mission in the Spanish Civil War before coming to China. Since his 1939 death of blood poisoning (picked up in the field due to a lack of surgical gloves), he has become a hero to many Chinese communists - there is a medical school named for him, and his tomb is very impressive, complete with life sized statute and Chairman Mao quote (bilingual). Mao actually penned an essay on Bethune's life and for a time made it required reading for all Chinese students.
I'm moving west again right now, this time on a very slow, very dirty hard seat ticket to Pingyao, which I am lead to believe is a very historic sort of city of about 90,000 souls.
Yesterday I left Beijing on a lunchtime train heading west to Shijazhuang. I got up early, though, and was able to fit in a bit more sightseeing, primarily at a public park just north of the Forbidden City. It was a pretty sight, with it's immaculate gardens and plastic paddle boats zipping around an artificial lake system, but again, it's all a little emblematic of how Beijing can sometimes be a turn off - big crowds and souvenir hawkers everywhere. I don't mean to suggest that Beijing is a place to be avoided, but rather that it takes a bit of work to enjoy one's self there.
Past noon-time, I boarded a fast train to Shijazhuang. That was a treat! The short haul trains from the capital are FAST and very comfortable. In two hours I covered as much ground as would have taken six on any of the other trains I've used so far. Arriving in Shijazhuang, I was greeted by a very pleasant downtown core. Even the area surrounding the train station was clean and quiet, something that is rare in ANY country.
So, other than the provincial museum (I skipped it), Shizahuang's sole "sight" is it's Revolutionary Martyr's Mausoleum. That, fortunately, is the sole reason I decided to visit the city. Entombed here is Norman Bethune, a Canadian doctor and communist party member who served in the Chinese army during the war against Japan. Bethune was a True Believer - he lead the Canadian medical mission in the Spanish Civil War before coming to China. Since his 1939 death of blood poisoning (picked up in the field due to a lack of surgical gloves), he has become a hero to many Chinese communists - there is a medical school named for him, and his tomb is very impressive, complete with life sized statute and Chairman Mao quote (bilingual). Mao actually penned an essay on Bethune's life and for a time made it required reading for all Chinese students.
I'm moving west again right now, this time on a very slow, very dirty hard seat ticket to Pingyao, which I am lead to believe is a very historic sort of city of about 90,000 souls.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Day 35:
Today was my last full day in Beijing. Typically, I spent it doing a bit more wandering, mostly in and out of the hutongs (alleyways) that criss-cross the inner-city. I poked about the shops around the hostel, buying a neat t-shirt and a few jazzy CDs for the next long train ride. The markets are good for buying stuff, but are wonderful for people watching. That's a good thing, since this city is full of beautiful and interesting people.
The people who clamor around the alleys closest to the hostel are all of the working class. Most travel on rusty bicycles, often carrying a young passenger on a rack behind the bicycle seat. Many of these people have dirty faces, and look quite tired. But it's important to remember that they are the Chinese working class, and not the urban poor, who are in much more dire straights, and live lives that are quite separate from the working class (I think).
Everything is loud around these parts... car horns blare incessantly, and so much business is done on the sidewalks that fill the streets with chatter. Some people have only a blanket for a storefront, though those who own shops have such small amounts of retail floor that both merchandise and employees invariably spill into the streets.
Away from the hostel (though not too far) the alleyway shops give way to more upscale boutique shops. They sell the same sorts of things, but of a higher quality and price. Most of the customers of these shops are young and fashionable, though in a trashy sort of way; short skirts, silly t-shirts and bad hairdos are the dress code of this area. Sort of like Korea, actually, more more "ghetto."
Back on the train tomorrow.
Today was my last full day in Beijing. Typically, I spent it doing a bit more wandering, mostly in and out of the hutongs (alleyways) that criss-cross the inner-city. I poked about the shops around the hostel, buying a neat t-shirt and a few jazzy CDs for the next long train ride. The markets are good for buying stuff, but are wonderful for people watching. That's a good thing, since this city is full of beautiful and interesting people.
The people who clamor around the alleys closest to the hostel are all of the working class. Most travel on rusty bicycles, often carrying a young passenger on a rack behind the bicycle seat. Many of these people have dirty faces, and look quite tired. But it's important to remember that they are the Chinese working class, and not the urban poor, who are in much more dire straights, and live lives that are quite separate from the working class (I think).
Everything is loud around these parts... car horns blare incessantly, and so much business is done on the sidewalks that fill the streets with chatter. Some people have only a blanket for a storefront, though those who own shops have such small amounts of retail floor that both merchandise and employees invariably spill into the streets.
Away from the hostel (though not too far) the alleyway shops give way to more upscale boutique shops. They sell the same sorts of things, but of a higher quality and price. Most of the customers of these shops are young and fashionable, though in a trashy sort of way; short skirts, silly t-shirts and bad hairdos are the dress code of this area. Sort of like Korea, actually, more more "ghetto."
Back on the train tomorrow.
Day 34:
Some hours at a section of the Great Wall today. I went with a van full of Americans to a restored section some hours to the north of the city. That proved to be a very pleasant experience. Like the Forbidden City and so many other popular places in Beijing it is all a little bit overdone (witness the ski-lift to the top of the wall and the big 'ol slide back to the bottom), but looking out at the surrounding mountains, one does get a sense of history, and a clear sense of the wall's purpose, and the reasons for it's successes and failures in delivering on that purpose.
The lot of us scrambled up and down the steps of the wall (the whole thing is steps), peeking into ocassional sentry towers as we went. Later, at the bottom of the wall, we ran the usual gauntlet of vendors selling gaudy tourist trinckets (Chairman Mao tote bags are IN this year). My companions had fun bargainning for the junk, but I still find the process sort of tiring. I guess what makes it especially tiring is that I don't actually want any of the stuff.
Some hours at a section of the Great Wall today. I went with a van full of Americans to a restored section some hours to the north of the city. That proved to be a very pleasant experience. Like the Forbidden City and so many other popular places in Beijing it is all a little bit overdone (witness the ski-lift to the top of the wall and the big 'ol slide back to the bottom), but looking out at the surrounding mountains, one does get a sense of history, and a clear sense of the wall's purpose, and the reasons for it's successes and failures in delivering on that purpose.
The lot of us scrambled up and down the steps of the wall (the whole thing is steps), peeking into ocassional sentry towers as we went. Later, at the bottom of the wall, we ran the usual gauntlet of vendors selling gaudy tourist trinckets (Chairman Mao tote bags are IN this year). My companions had fun bargainning for the junk, but I still find the process sort of tiring. I guess what makes it especially tiring is that I don't actually want any of the stuff.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Day 33:
Busy day today! Another twelve hours of walking the streets of Beijing, essentially, but at least this time I actually visited more than one sight.
First stop was a Taoist temple a few kilometers from the hostel. Sort of neat, though I think that maybe now I've had my fill of places of worship. This temple was designed in a sort of courtyard style (just like in the movies... a square yard surrounded by living quarters on three sides). Around the sides of the temple are a series of rooms called "departments." The departments all have odd names - "department of animals," "department of three month meditations," "department of longevity," "department of inflicting 15 kinds of violent death" - along with manikins that serve to represent each department's theme.
After that I went to Beijing's main art gallery. It had some nice stuff by local art students (including lots and lots and lots of nudes) as well as a very nice exhibition of the works of Rene Magritte.
After leaving the art gallery, I went to a park just north of the Forbidden City, for a nice hilltop view of the area.
Listen, everyone around is rather loud right now, so I need to close for the night. I will visit the Great Wall tomorrow, and will leave town in two days time.
Busy day today! Another twelve hours of walking the streets of Beijing, essentially, but at least this time I actually visited more than one sight.
First stop was a Taoist temple a few kilometers from the hostel. Sort of neat, though I think that maybe now I've had my fill of places of worship. This temple was designed in a sort of courtyard style (just like in the movies... a square yard surrounded by living quarters on three sides). Around the sides of the temple are a series of rooms called "departments." The departments all have odd names - "department of animals," "department of three month meditations," "department of longevity," "department of inflicting 15 kinds of violent death" - along with manikins that serve to represent each department's theme.
After that I went to Beijing's main art gallery. It had some nice stuff by local art students (including lots and lots and lots of nudes) as well as a very nice exhibition of the works of Rene Magritte.
After leaving the art gallery, I went to a park just north of the Forbidden City, for a nice hilltop view of the area.
Listen, everyone around is rather loud right now, so I need to close for the night. I will visit the Great Wall tomorrow, and will leave town in two days time.
Day 32:
I got my visa! I guess that my hundred bucks was enough cash to forgive whatever sins I committed by not applying back in Korea. Chinese nationals, curiously, get the visa for free, and the bunch that were there to pick up their visas at the same time as me all looked rather wide-eyed as I handed over my cash, enough to live on for a few months in this country.
This is good news, but it turns out that there is a whole lot of civil conflict happening right now in Pakistan. General Mushareff who is Pakistan's leader and George Bush's dear friend is trying to subvert democracy, and the Pakistani people have been starting a lot of riots and general strikes in response. There were 30 people killed by government forces at a recent demonstration. I'm not sure what I am going to do. In the past, I've not given too much thought to my personal safety when travelling, but these days I feel like I might actually enjoy my return to Canada, and would like to return in one piece.
Oh well. More on that situation as it develops.
I went to Niukie Mosque (cow-street Mosque) this afternoon. Visiting there was so pleasant, and it is my favorite place in the city so far. Dating to 996, the mosque is the largest and oldest in the city, and it has just as much (chronological) history as the Forbidden Palace. At present, though, it has none of the tiresome crowds that plague the Forbidden City. When visiting, I was able to explore the grounds very thoroughly, but was also able to spend some quiet time in contemplation.
The Mosque is a visual treat. The exterior of the buildings are very Chinese in style, looking very much like a Buddhist temple, rather than an Islamic Mosque. But inside of the buildings, everything is Arabic in style. That makes for a neat fusion of history and culture.
There was a young boy begging for money outside of the mosque. I think he was begging in Arabic. I gave him lots of money.
More temples and things tomorrow.
I got my visa! I guess that my hundred bucks was enough cash to forgive whatever sins I committed by not applying back in Korea. Chinese nationals, curiously, get the visa for free, and the bunch that were there to pick up their visas at the same time as me all looked rather wide-eyed as I handed over my cash, enough to live on for a few months in this country.
This is good news, but it turns out that there is a whole lot of civil conflict happening right now in Pakistan. General Mushareff who is Pakistan's leader and George Bush's dear friend is trying to subvert democracy, and the Pakistani people have been starting a lot of riots and general strikes in response. There were 30 people killed by government forces at a recent demonstration. I'm not sure what I am going to do. In the past, I've not given too much thought to my personal safety when travelling, but these days I feel like I might actually enjoy my return to Canada, and would like to return in one piece.
Oh well. More on that situation as it develops.
I went to Niukie Mosque (cow-street Mosque) this afternoon. Visiting there was so pleasant, and it is my favorite place in the city so far. Dating to 996, the mosque is the largest and oldest in the city, and it has just as much (chronological) history as the Forbidden Palace. At present, though, it has none of the tiresome crowds that plague the Forbidden City. When visiting, I was able to explore the grounds very thoroughly, but was also able to spend some quiet time in contemplation.
The Mosque is a visual treat. The exterior of the buildings are very Chinese in style, looking very much like a Buddhist temple, rather than an Islamic Mosque. But inside of the buildings, everything is Arabic in style. That makes for a neat fusion of history and culture.
There was a young boy begging for money outside of the mosque. I think he was begging in Arabic. I gave him lots of money.
More temples and things tomorrow.
Day 31:
The guy at the Pakistani consulate was a real dick to me today. My chances of getting an onward visa out of China are looking sort of shitty. It went something like this:
Him: So what do you do for a job.
Me: Ah, I teach English in Korea.
Him: So why didn't you get a visa in Korea?
Me: Well, I've been away for awhile, and I didn't really want the validity of the passport to expire
Him: Honestly, that is a very horrible excuse.
Me: Oh?
Him: Yes it is. You didn't get it because it didn't suit you at the time.
Me: Oh?
Him: Yes. If a Pakistani person went to the Canadian embassy in Beijing and asked for a visa, they would throw him out.
Me: Oh, yes, you're probably right. I'm sorry.
Him: Okay, come back tomorrow and see if you are approved.
Me: Okay. Thank-you, sir. Goodbye, sir.
Oy! What the heck does it matter where I file the application This was the boss of the entire consular mission, and he was a total dick! He's famous on Internet message boards, apparently, for being such a man. But is he willing to turn away my 100 dollar visa fee just to be mean? Who knows...
...
I put my writing on hold just now to chat to an American couple from Virginia. They are long retired, and have been staying at this hostel for the past few weeks. Just a little holiday, they say.
Increasingly, I find that I like talking to older travellers much more than I like talking to the young ones. Like Kaplan said in the passage I quoted earlier, older travellers are often much more intelligent than the young backpackers, and much more informed about the local culture and history. Us kids are sometimes so preoccupied with being pretend hippies that we don't have the time for learning and critical thinking.
...
Anyhow. Back on track. That trip to the embassy took up most of my morning and afternoon. I got out of there around lunchtime, had a bite, and then taxied over to the Forbidden City. I spent about three hours poking around there. It's quite informative, but sort of uninspiring. It's a nice museum, but that's all it really is - a big museum, rather than a representation/simulation of the past. It suffers, also, from being located near Tiannamen Square and Mao's mausoleum. That whole place has been turned into a sort of Maoist wonderland... and visitors to the Forbidden City must first pass under a MASSIVE portrait of the great helmsman.
More impressive than all the regular sites are the People's Liberation Army guys who wander around the square (and everywhere else in the city). Sometimes they march alone, sometimes in pairs, and sometimes in packs of a few dozen. They look really smart in their uniforms, and they never really break character, remaining steely and serious at all times. I saw a troupe of about two dozen marching around the embassy section of town. They all marched two-by-two in perfect formation, and two guys at the very back held little stop signs. When the troupe came to a crosswalk, one of the rear guys broke formation to stop traffic with his little sign. When his fellows had crossed safely, he gave a salute to the front most driver and rejoined formation.
So cool. And it's not just a show for the tourists; these guys are EVERYWHERE.
The guy at the Pakistani consulate was a real dick to me today. My chances of getting an onward visa out of China are looking sort of shitty. It went something like this:
Him: So what do you do for a job.
Me: Ah, I teach English in Korea.
Him: So why didn't you get a visa in Korea?
Me: Well, I've been away for awhile, and I didn't really want the validity of the passport to expire
Him: Honestly, that is a very horrible excuse.
Me: Oh?
Him: Yes it is. You didn't get it because it didn't suit you at the time.
Me: Oh?
Him: Yes. If a Pakistani person went to the Canadian embassy in Beijing and asked for a visa, they would throw him out.
Me: Oh, yes, you're probably right. I'm sorry.
Him: Okay, come back tomorrow and see if you are approved.
Me: Okay. Thank-you, sir. Goodbye, sir.
Oy! What the heck does it matter where I file the application This was the boss of the entire consular mission, and he was a total dick! He's famous on Internet message boards, apparently, for being such a man. But is he willing to turn away my 100 dollar visa fee just to be mean? Who knows...
...
I put my writing on hold just now to chat to an American couple from Virginia. They are long retired, and have been staying at this hostel for the past few weeks. Just a little holiday, they say.
Increasingly, I find that I like talking to older travellers much more than I like talking to the young ones. Like Kaplan said in the passage I quoted earlier, older travellers are often much more intelligent than the young backpackers, and much more informed about the local culture and history. Us kids are sometimes so preoccupied with being pretend hippies that we don't have the time for learning and critical thinking.
...
Anyhow. Back on track. That trip to the embassy took up most of my morning and afternoon. I got out of there around lunchtime, had a bite, and then taxied over to the Forbidden City. I spent about three hours poking around there. It's quite informative, but sort of uninspiring. It's a nice museum, but that's all it really is - a big museum, rather than a representation/simulation of the past. It suffers, also, from being located near Tiannamen Square and Mao's mausoleum. That whole place has been turned into a sort of Maoist wonderland... and visitors to the Forbidden City must first pass under a MASSIVE portrait of the great helmsman.
More impressive than all the regular sites are the People's Liberation Army guys who wander around the square (and everywhere else in the city). Sometimes they march alone, sometimes in pairs, and sometimes in packs of a few dozen. They look really smart in their uniforms, and they never really break character, remaining steely and serious at all times. I saw a troupe of about two dozen marching around the embassy section of town. They all marched two-by-two in perfect formation, and two guys at the very back held little stop signs. When the troupe came to a crosswalk, one of the rear guys broke formation to stop traffic with his little sign. When his fellows had crossed safely, he gave a salute to the front most driver and rejoined formation.
So cool. And it's not just a show for the tourists; these guys are EVERYWHERE.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Day 30:
Beijing, now - writing on the front step of my hostel, because it's too bloody crowded in there. I'm at "Saga Youth Hostel." It's quite modern and clean and cheap, but I''m more accustomed to staying at dirty flop-house type accomidations. All of the "backpackers" here give me the willies.
When I fist started travelling, I sort of pretended to be some sort of dirty super-traveller. Conversations on the home front would often go like this:
pretty girl: Oh, you went to Mongolia? That's so remote. How did you manage?
Michael: Ah, you know, I just sort of showed up, and got a driver and a jeep and we went into the desert for a few weeks.
Of course, at that point, I was still clueless about how to do anything on the road, so I really just stumbled into the desert, leaning heavily on my driver and guide for help.
But fuck, if we pretend to be something for long enough, we just sort of become that thing. All that bullshit endured between Mongolia the first time, around to Timor island, to Tynda's train station, to the shittiest flophouse in Hohhot....
Well, these are the reasons all of the backpackers with the official second-hand chic University of Kings College uniform give me the willies. Go get stabbed, motherfucker.
I guess this journal is covering all the bases except for what I've actually been doing on the road. Sorry for that.
So what did I do today? I walked around a lot. Yeah, when not facing danger head on in Dili, I mostly spent my holidays walking around. I arrived at Beijng about 6:00 am today, and hopped into a taxi to the hostel, and found a nice cheap dorm bed. I took a shower for the first time in 75 hours, and set out to explore a bit.
Beijing has a lot of cool sights - the Forbidden City, Mao's Masoleum, Tianammen Square, The Summer Palace, The Great Wall... but MY first stop was the Oriental Plaza movie theatre for a matinee showing of Spider-man 3. But of course! See? I'm a hardcore traveller. I dug how they had Harry and Peter fight in costume but without masks, just as they did so often in the comics.
After that I spent about ten hours wandering the streets. I'm not sure if I like this town, though - it's all a little garish. Tianammen Square is some sort of Maoist wonderland - my guidebook describes it as "all a little Kim-Il Sungish"." And so many of the neat old buildings and alleyways are being demoslished right now to make things tidier for the 2008 summer Olympics, which will be held here in a few months.
The food her is spiffy, though. All sort of super-spicy Sichuan tofu dishes are on offer, and are so delightful! The foreign languages bookstore, also, is massive; about the size of a smallish "Chapters" store, though unfortunatly they don't have the Central Asian phrasebook that I want for my time in Xinjiang provence next month.
Honestly, though, I'm a little underwhelmed: I've yet to find any of the cosmpolitan charm or any of the rougish attitude that was on display in Shanghai when I visited there last year.
But maybe tomorrow...
Beijing, now - writing on the front step of my hostel, because it's too bloody crowded in there. I'm at "Saga Youth Hostel." It's quite modern and clean and cheap, but I''m more accustomed to staying at dirty flop-house type accomidations. All of the "backpackers" here give me the willies.
When I fist started travelling, I sort of pretended to be some sort of dirty super-traveller. Conversations on the home front would often go like this:
pretty girl: Oh, you went to Mongolia? That's so remote. How did you manage?
Michael: Ah, you know, I just sort of showed up, and got a driver and a jeep and we went into the desert for a few weeks.
Of course, at that point, I was still clueless about how to do anything on the road, so I really just stumbled into the desert, leaning heavily on my driver and guide for help.
But fuck, if we pretend to be something for long enough, we just sort of become that thing. All that bullshit endured between Mongolia the first time, around to Timor island, to Tynda's train station, to the shittiest flophouse in Hohhot....
Well, these are the reasons all of the backpackers with the official second-hand chic University of Kings College uniform give me the willies. Go get stabbed, motherfucker.
I guess this journal is covering all the bases except for what I've actually been doing on the road. Sorry for that.
So what did I do today? I walked around a lot. Yeah, when not facing danger head on in Dili, I mostly spent my holidays walking around. I arrived at Beijng about 6:00 am today, and hopped into a taxi to the hostel, and found a nice cheap dorm bed. I took a shower for the first time in 75 hours, and set out to explore a bit.
Beijing has a lot of cool sights - the Forbidden City, Mao's Masoleum, Tianammen Square, The Summer Palace, The Great Wall... but MY first stop was the Oriental Plaza movie theatre for a matinee showing of Spider-man 3. But of course! See? I'm a hardcore traveller. I dug how they had Harry and Peter fight in costume but without masks, just as they did so often in the comics.
After that I spent about ten hours wandering the streets. I'm not sure if I like this town, though - it's all a little garish. Tianammen Square is some sort of Maoist wonderland - my guidebook describes it as "all a little Kim-Il Sungish"." And so many of the neat old buildings and alleyways are being demoslished right now to make things tidier for the 2008 summer Olympics, which will be held here in a few months.
The food her is spiffy, though. All sort of super-spicy Sichuan tofu dishes are on offer, and are so delightful! The foreign languages bookstore, also, is massive; about the size of a smallish "Chapters" store, though unfortunatly they don't have the Central Asian phrasebook that I want for my time in Xinjiang provence next month.
Honestly, though, I'm a little underwhelmed: I've yet to find any of the cosmpolitan charm or any of the rougish attitude that was on display in Shanghai when I visited there last year.
But maybe tomorrow...
Friday, May 18, 2007
Day 29:
I'm on the sleeper bus to Beijing! It's pre-departure time. I must admit - the third class sleeper in Russia was foul, but this - this is ridiculous! What we've got here is a regular sized bus, stuffed with 24 bunks. And as you can expect, that makes for a sweaty, smelly, noisy affair. But it IS cheap - the twelve hour journey costs about twelve US bucks.
But oh... fuck... the guy behind me has the worst foot odor I've yet to encounter. It's so bad that I'm no longer sure that the cost savings are worth it.
Aw, fuck... this stench is overpowering... I can't concentrate enough to get my thoughts down on paper... maybe when the bus starts moving the air coming in from the windows will blow it away from me and I will be able to continue...
(later)
Okay. It's a little better now. We're still stationary, but the guy to the right of me just lit up a cigarette. His tobacco smell is overpowering the other guy's foot smell.
So. Back on topic. The train from Ulaanbaatar took about twenty-five hours to reach Hohhot, in China. As I mentioned before, Hohhot is the capital of Outer Mongolia, which is the name given to the ethnically Mongolian part of northern China. Curiously, there are more people of Mongolian descent here than in Mongolia proper.
Anyways, we arrived around 9:30 pm, and I set out with a couple of American travelers (Mika and his extraordinarily cute girlfriend Megan) to find a hotel. And it wasn't easy!
The touts outside of the train station pulled out the usual mob shtick to shuffle us into a place that would give them a good commission, but being in a group of three, it was easy enough for us to shrug them off. Eventually, though, unable to find the hotel that we wanted, we followed a non-threatening looking female tout to her "hotel." We followed her down the street... around some corners... into an apartment building... up some stairs... up some more stairs... down a hallway... up some stairs... onto the roof... back inside... up some more stairs....
Eventually we reached a door. The tout pounded on the door for a good five minutes before someone answered. The woman who answered the door looked rather tired, was wearing a VERY short mini-skirt and was holding the largest banana than any of us (the tout included, surely) had ever seen. Needless to say, we promptly left that place.
The three of us eventually spent the night in a grotty place across from the train station. We paid three bucks a piece for a pair of really disgusting rooms without showers.
Over dinner that night (Sichuan hot-pot with tofu and vegetables!) I found out that Megan and Mika were like me, fresh from a stint of teaching English in Korea. They had spent a year (ending this past February) working in Gwangju, which was pretty close to my old HQ of Suncheon. Pretty cool. We spent a few hours eating and drinking. I was made very happy; the combination of good food and good conversation is always a treat for the solo traveler.
The three us us puttered around Hohhot a bit this morning. Mika and Megan had to depart in the early afternoon, so I spent a few hours here by myself. We had all agreed that Hohhot was a pretty gross place, but once I managed to get far away from the train station, I found some nice sites. The museum here is pretty cool, actually. It has a great dinosaur exhibit, and some neat displays on traditional Mongolian culture. One sad note though: Mongolia was the stomping grounds of Roy Chapman Andrews (the famous archaeologist who inspired the character of Indiana Jones). He, and others, found loads of dinosaur bones and fossils in Mongolia. It strikes me as sad, though, that the Mongolian museums have such pathetic collections, and that all of the really compelling stuff has been sent abroad, and to China.
Anyhow, another highlight of Hohhot is a visit to the Muslim quarter. A few blocks in south-central Hohhot (near the mosque) are home to a plethora of buildings designed in a sort of Arabic style. This is also a great place to eat street food, and to scare up some tasty meat-less snacks.
I also managed to find Hohhot's sole McDonald's franchise. It's curious, but ever since I visited Shanghai last year, McDonald's has always seemed to me to be a rather Asian institution. Back home, we've got so many McDonald's stores - maybe one for every 100,000 residents. And they are all owned by upper-middle class franchise holders, and patronized by middle and working class people. Accordingly, McDonald's in Halifax is a dumpy sort of place. But in Asia, there is perhaps one for every million residents, and they are patronized by people who earn a decent wage. The Mickey D exists here as a sort of palace of capitalism - a shining, glimmering, beckoning palace surrounded by a sea of grungy communism and menacing poverty.
Fuck! Enough!
I'm on the sleeper bus to Beijing! It's pre-departure time. I must admit - the third class sleeper in Russia was foul, but this - this is ridiculous! What we've got here is a regular sized bus, stuffed with 24 bunks. And as you can expect, that makes for a sweaty, smelly, noisy affair. But it IS cheap - the twelve hour journey costs about twelve US bucks.
But oh... fuck... the guy behind me has the worst foot odor I've yet to encounter. It's so bad that I'm no longer sure that the cost savings are worth it.
Aw, fuck... this stench is overpowering... I can't concentrate enough to get my thoughts down on paper... maybe when the bus starts moving the air coming in from the windows will blow it away from me and I will be able to continue...
(later)
Okay. It's a little better now. We're still stationary, but the guy to the right of me just lit up a cigarette. His tobacco smell is overpowering the other guy's foot smell.
So. Back on topic. The train from Ulaanbaatar took about twenty-five hours to reach Hohhot, in China. As I mentioned before, Hohhot is the capital of Outer Mongolia, which is the name given to the ethnically Mongolian part of northern China. Curiously, there are more people of Mongolian descent here than in Mongolia proper.
Anyways, we arrived around 9:30 pm, and I set out with a couple of American travelers (Mika and his extraordinarily cute girlfriend Megan) to find a hotel. And it wasn't easy!
The touts outside of the train station pulled out the usual mob shtick to shuffle us into a place that would give them a good commission, but being in a group of three, it was easy enough for us to shrug them off. Eventually, though, unable to find the hotel that we wanted, we followed a non-threatening looking female tout to her "hotel." We followed her down the street... around some corners... into an apartment building... up some stairs... up some more stairs... down a hallway... up some stairs... onto the roof... back inside... up some more stairs....
Eventually we reached a door. The tout pounded on the door for a good five minutes before someone answered. The woman who answered the door looked rather tired, was wearing a VERY short mini-skirt and was holding the largest banana than any of us (the tout included, surely) had ever seen. Needless to say, we promptly left that place.
The three of us eventually spent the night in a grotty place across from the train station. We paid three bucks a piece for a pair of really disgusting rooms without showers.
Over dinner that night (Sichuan hot-pot with tofu and vegetables!) I found out that Megan and Mika were like me, fresh from a stint of teaching English in Korea. They had spent a year (ending this past February) working in Gwangju, which was pretty close to my old HQ of Suncheon. Pretty cool. We spent a few hours eating and drinking. I was made very happy; the combination of good food and good conversation is always a treat for the solo traveler.
The three us us puttered around Hohhot a bit this morning. Mika and Megan had to depart in the early afternoon, so I spent a few hours here by myself. We had all agreed that Hohhot was a pretty gross place, but once I managed to get far away from the train station, I found some nice sites. The museum here is pretty cool, actually. It has a great dinosaur exhibit, and some neat displays on traditional Mongolian culture. One sad note though: Mongolia was the stomping grounds of Roy Chapman Andrews (the famous archaeologist who inspired the character of Indiana Jones). He, and others, found loads of dinosaur bones and fossils in Mongolia. It strikes me as sad, though, that the Mongolian museums have such pathetic collections, and that all of the really compelling stuff has been sent abroad, and to China.
Anyhow, another highlight of Hohhot is a visit to the Muslim quarter. A few blocks in south-central Hohhot (near the mosque) are home to a plethora of buildings designed in a sort of Arabic style. This is also a great place to eat street food, and to scare up some tasty meat-less snacks.
I also managed to find Hohhot's sole McDonald's franchise. It's curious, but ever since I visited Shanghai last year, McDonald's has always seemed to me to be a rather Asian institution. Back home, we've got so many McDonald's stores - maybe one for every 100,000 residents. And they are all owned by upper-middle class franchise holders, and patronized by middle and working class people. Accordingly, McDonald's in Halifax is a dumpy sort of place. But in Asia, there is perhaps one for every million residents, and they are patronized by people who earn a decent wage. The Mickey D exists here as a sort of palace of capitalism - a shining, glimmering, beckoning palace surrounded by a sea of grungy communism and menacing poverty.
Fuck! Enough!
Day 28:
I've been in Chinese territory for the last couple of hours. Those hours have been spent rumbling along the railroad tracks in the Chinese part of the Gobi Desert. I like my bunkmates more than all of my previous companions. They don't speak English so well, but they've kept me filled up with cheap Chinese bread and beer.
I intended to write more last night but I managed to fall asleep in the middle of the last paragraph. I notice now that I prefaced that summary of recent Mongolian politics with the word "first." This suggests that I had more points to make, but I'm afraid that I can't really recall them right now.
I've been in Chinese territory for the last couple of hours. Those hours have been spent rumbling along the railroad tracks in the Chinese part of the Gobi Desert. I like my bunkmates more than all of my previous companions. They don't speak English so well, but they've kept me filled up with cheap Chinese bread and beer.
I intended to write more last night but I managed to fall asleep in the middle of the last paragraph. I notice now that I prefaced that summary of recent Mongolian politics with the word "first." This suggests that I had more points to make, but I'm afraid that I can't really recall them right now.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Days 25, 26, 27
I met a guy from Mississippi at the Chinese embassy who has been living in the Mongolian countryside since 1997, working on an agricultural aid project. He lives with his American wife and his five (!) kids. Four of those kids have been born in Mongolia. The Mongolian countryside, he says, is "home" to his kids - moreso than America, even.
That's such a wonderful life, I think. He's taking his family back to the 'states soon, but those kids should grow up into very unique, worldly adults. The oldest is twelve - all of them have spent their entire lives as residents of this place. They'll have great stories to tell as adults, but also have a more complete perspective on how the world operates than most of us dolts. And they get special insight for being the children of aid workers, rather than the kids of mining company executives.
So, anyways: I'm on the train to Hohhot now. That's in China. I'm stuck on a top bunk, and accordingly, I fear that when I fall asleep, I might roll over to my death. There's no railing on my bed, you see...
But the railway operation here is so much nicer than in Russia. The train is cleaner, the staff is friendlier, we get an "in flight meal," and best of all, we don't have to pay an extra two bucks for clean linens. It remains to be seen if there are any bloodsuckers in my matress, but the lack of any visible bloodstains is a good sign.
Really tired at the moment, but because it's been days since I last wrote, I'm going to soldier on...
First, I'll write the final word on Mongolian history. This will be my last history essay, since those are sort of self indulgent, I think:
(this is from memory, rather than from notes, so the dates might be wrong)
Mongolia remained a territory of imperial China for 150 years. This didn't come to and end until Imperial China came to an end. With the overthrow of the emperor by republican forces, the Mongolian people proclaimed thier independance, and threw out thier Chinese bosses. Curiously, at this point Mongolia became a theocracy - the "Boghd Khan" (eight time reincarnated leader of Mongolian Buddhism) became head of state.
Things didn't work out so well for the new Mongolian state. The Chinese came back in force. But the White Russian army (the guys who were fighting against the Bolshevik takeover of Russia) came to liberate the Mongolians. But, not suprisingly, the White Russians had an agenda of their own, and turned out to be just another occupying force.
And then came the Bolsheviks.
The Russian commies "saved" the Mongolians from both the Chinese and the White Russians, and in 1922 Mongolia became the world's second communist state. Of course, this state proved to be little more than a puppet plaything of the Soviet Regime. When Stalin came to power things got really bad, and people started dissapearing. The purges hit Mongolia full on.
As the Soviet Union twisted and turned throughout the second half of the twentieth century, so too did Mongolia. Communism went away at the same time in both countries. But not really - the "former communist" Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party has dominated the free elections since communism fell in 1990. Acussations of corruption are common. The thugs who managed the dictatorship of the past so well have been very skilled at "managing" the parliamentary system of today. If the situation sounds similar to Russia of today, that's because it IS similar.
But, like in Russia, the people aren't taking this garbage lightly. The 2004 elections produced a parliamentary tie, and historic coalition government, shared between the Democrats and the Thugs. This lasted two years before the thug party made a powerplay, achieving a majority by purchasing the services of a few Democratic members of parliament. But when this happened the Mongolian streets filled with angry protestors.
The angry voices didn't really accomplish much, but they were a sign that things are quite so bad as they were in the past...
I met a guy from Mississippi at the Chinese embassy who has been living in the Mongolian countryside since 1997, working on an agricultural aid project. He lives with his American wife and his five (!) kids. Four of those kids have been born in Mongolia. The Mongolian countryside, he says, is "home" to his kids - moreso than America, even.
That's such a wonderful life, I think. He's taking his family back to the 'states soon, but those kids should grow up into very unique, worldly adults. The oldest is twelve - all of them have spent their entire lives as residents of this place. They'll have great stories to tell as adults, but also have a more complete perspective on how the world operates than most of us dolts. And they get special insight for being the children of aid workers, rather than the kids of mining company executives.
So, anyways: I'm on the train to Hohhot now. That's in China. I'm stuck on a top bunk, and accordingly, I fear that when I fall asleep, I might roll over to my death. There's no railing on my bed, you see...
But the railway operation here is so much nicer than in Russia. The train is cleaner, the staff is friendlier, we get an "in flight meal," and best of all, we don't have to pay an extra two bucks for clean linens. It remains to be seen if there are any bloodsuckers in my matress, but the lack of any visible bloodstains is a good sign.
Really tired at the moment, but because it's been days since I last wrote, I'm going to soldier on...
First, I'll write the final word on Mongolian history. This will be my last history essay, since those are sort of self indulgent, I think:
(this is from memory, rather than from notes, so the dates might be wrong)
Mongolia remained a territory of imperial China for 150 years. This didn't come to and end until Imperial China came to an end. With the overthrow of the emperor by republican forces, the Mongolian people proclaimed thier independance, and threw out thier Chinese bosses. Curiously, at this point Mongolia became a theocracy - the "Boghd Khan" (eight time reincarnated leader of Mongolian Buddhism) became head of state.
Things didn't work out so well for the new Mongolian state. The Chinese came back in force. But the White Russian army (the guys who were fighting against the Bolshevik takeover of Russia) came to liberate the Mongolians. But, not suprisingly, the White Russians had an agenda of their own, and turned out to be just another occupying force.
And then came the Bolsheviks.
The Russian commies "saved" the Mongolians from both the Chinese and the White Russians, and in 1922 Mongolia became the world's second communist state. Of course, this state proved to be little more than a puppet plaything of the Soviet Regime. When Stalin came to power things got really bad, and people started dissapearing. The purges hit Mongolia full on.
As the Soviet Union twisted and turned throughout the second half of the twentieth century, so too did Mongolia. Communism went away at the same time in both countries. But not really - the "former communist" Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party has dominated the free elections since communism fell in 1990. Acussations of corruption are common. The thugs who managed the dictatorship of the past so well have been very skilled at "managing" the parliamentary system of today. If the situation sounds similar to Russia of today, that's because it IS similar.
But, like in Russia, the people aren't taking this garbage lightly. The 2004 elections produced a parliamentary tie, and historic coalition government, shared between the Democrats and the Thugs. This lasted two years before the thug party made a powerplay, achieving a majority by purchasing the services of a few Democratic members of parliament. But when this happened the Mongolian streets filled with angry protestors.
The angry voices didn't really accomplish much, but they were a sign that things are quite so bad as they were in the past...
Day 24:
Correction: There are only 1,000,000 people in UlaanBaatar. About 700,000 live in the ger districts.
Okay, with a lot of repitition from last time, here's a brief territorial history of the Mongolian empire:
In 1206 Chinngis (Gengis) Khan united the various tribes of Mongolia under his leadership and founded the Mongolian empire. Together they conquered a whole lot of land. Chinngis was succeed as emperor by two of his sons, and more importantly by this grandson, Kublai Khan. Under Kublai Khan's leadership, the empire was at it's largest: stretching from present day Korea to the Ukraine, south into Vietnam, and all over the middle east.
That year, when Kublai Khan died, the provences of his empire became formally independant states, but ruled by Mongolians, of course. The Persian and middle eastern Mongolian states didn't last very long before being conquered by outside forces, so two main successors to Kublai's empire emerged: The Golden Horde in present day Russia, and "The Empire of the Great Khan" (really, the "Yuan Dynasty"), back in Mongolia's heartland and China and the Russian Far East.
In 1445, The Golden Horde split further, into eight pieces. This happened because of infighting, and also because of the growing strength of the Russian princes, intent on forming thier own empire. In the 1500s, most of the Mongolian states were swallowed up by the Russians. The largest state, the Siberian Khannate, was subjugated around 1605. Two states limped into the 18th century... the remate Khazak khannate was absorbed into the Russian empire in the 1730s, while the Crimean Khannate survived as a vassal state of the Ottoman empire until it too became Russian in 1783.
Meanwhile, back in the homefront, the Mongolians became thoroughly Chinese, declaring themselves emperors of the Chinese, as the "Yuan Dynasty." But thier rule was bound to fail: numerically rather small, they were much very dependant on the co-operation of their Chinese subjects. In 1368, the last Mongolian emperor capitulated to the Chinese, handed over his throne, and all the Mongolians went back to the motherland. And back to the state of never-ending civil war that they enjoyed in the years before Chinngis.
But, nevertheless, Mongolia continued on as an independant state into the 16th century. They showed a bit of muscle when united under the rule of Altan Khan, but with his death in 1583, this unravelled a bit more. Mongolia's northern lands became fully Russian, as the imperial army reached the Pacific Ocean in 1639. In the 1680s, the Chinese entered Mongolian lands with cannons. Moving in with the permission of one of the clans locked in a civil war, the Chinese set about conquering BOTH sides in that war. They did this around 1732, and the great Mongolian empire ceased to exist.
Correction: There are only 1,000,000 people in UlaanBaatar. About 700,000 live in the ger districts.
Okay, with a lot of repitition from last time, here's a brief territorial history of the Mongolian empire:
In 1206 Chinngis (Gengis) Khan united the various tribes of Mongolia under his leadership and founded the Mongolian empire. Together they conquered a whole lot of land. Chinngis was succeed as emperor by two of his sons, and more importantly by this grandson, Kublai Khan. Under Kublai Khan's leadership, the empire was at it's largest: stretching from present day Korea to the Ukraine, south into Vietnam, and all over the middle east.
That year, when Kublai Khan died, the provences of his empire became formally independant states, but ruled by Mongolians, of course. The Persian and middle eastern Mongolian states didn't last very long before being conquered by outside forces, so two main successors to Kublai's empire emerged: The Golden Horde in present day Russia, and "The Empire of the Great Khan" (really, the "Yuan Dynasty"), back in Mongolia's heartland and China and the Russian Far East.
In 1445, The Golden Horde split further, into eight pieces. This happened because of infighting, and also because of the growing strength of the Russian princes, intent on forming thier own empire. In the 1500s, most of the Mongolian states were swallowed up by the Russians. The largest state, the Siberian Khannate, was subjugated around 1605. Two states limped into the 18th century... the remate Khazak khannate was absorbed into the Russian empire in the 1730s, while the Crimean Khannate survived as a vassal state of the Ottoman empire until it too became Russian in 1783.
Meanwhile, back in the homefront, the Mongolians became thoroughly Chinese, declaring themselves emperors of the Chinese, as the "Yuan Dynasty." But thier rule was bound to fail: numerically rather small, they were much very dependant on the co-operation of their Chinese subjects. In 1368, the last Mongolian emperor capitulated to the Chinese, handed over his throne, and all the Mongolians went back to the motherland. And back to the state of never-ending civil war that they enjoyed in the years before Chinngis.
But, nevertheless, Mongolia continued on as an independant state into the 16th century. They showed a bit of muscle when united under the rule of Altan Khan, but with his death in 1583, this unravelled a bit more. Mongolia's northern lands became fully Russian, as the imperial army reached the Pacific Ocean in 1639. In the 1680s, the Chinese entered Mongolian lands with cannons. Moving in with the permission of one of the clans locked in a civil war, the Chinese set about conquering BOTH sides in that war. They did this around 1732, and the great Mongolian empire ceased to exist.
Day 23:
I learned a bit more about the Russian Far East and Siberia today. I guess this is the final word on that:
So. Chinggis Khan (we call him "Gengis Khan") created the Mongolian empire in 1206 by uniting the various Mongolian clans under his leadership. This empire of his lasted until the death of his grandson Kublai Khan (we know him from the "pleasure dome" poem). At that point, the Mongolian empire was pretty big - the biggest empire in the history of man, actually, encompasing all of present day Russia, China, down into Viet Nam, most of the middle east, all of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Khazakstan... and west into Belarus and the Ukraine.
The point, though, is that Siberia and the Russian Far East were Mongolian.
But in 1294, the empire was divided up into four independant states. One of those was controlled by the "Golden Horde," and was made up mostly of what is today called Russia.
By 1445, the Golden Horde was in disarray, and it split once more, into eight parts this time. One of those eight parts was the "Siberian Khannate." Ove the next couple hundred years, the Russian empire emerged, and conquered the former lands of the Golden Horde. Most of Siberia was put under Russian control in the late 1500s, and the final Khan of Siberia died on the run from Russian forces in 1605. Meanwhile, the Yuan Dynasty (one of the 1294 creations) was in disarray at the same time... it's claims on the far east were diminished when the Russians reached the pacific ocean for the time in 1639.
I learned a bit more about the Russian Far East and Siberia today. I guess this is the final word on that:
So. Chinggis Khan (we call him "Gengis Khan") created the Mongolian empire in 1206 by uniting the various Mongolian clans under his leadership. This empire of his lasted until the death of his grandson Kublai Khan (we know him from the "pleasure dome" poem). At that point, the Mongolian empire was pretty big - the biggest empire in the history of man, actually, encompasing all of present day Russia, China, down into Viet Nam, most of the middle east, all of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Khazakstan... and west into Belarus and the Ukraine.
The point, though, is that Siberia and the Russian Far East were Mongolian.
But in 1294, the empire was divided up into four independant states. One of those was controlled by the "Golden Horde," and was made up mostly of what is today called Russia.
By 1445, the Golden Horde was in disarray, and it split once more, into eight parts this time. One of those eight parts was the "Siberian Khannate." Ove the next couple hundred years, the Russian empire emerged, and conquered the former lands of the Golden Horde. Most of Siberia was put under Russian control in the late 1500s, and the final Khan of Siberia died on the run from Russian forces in 1605. Meanwhile, the Yuan Dynasty (one of the 1294 creations) was in disarray at the same time... it's claims on the far east were diminished when the Russians reached the pacific ocean for the time in 1639.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Day 22
Walking around Ulaanbaatar again. UB is good for that. Not exactly a picturesque city, but it does the trick.
I started today with a walk to a Japanese place around the corner from Tselmeg's apartment. They sell a toasted egg and cheese sandwich with a dollop of salad and a drink for about $2.25 US. Best deal in town!
Followed that with a trip to the Internet place to upload a few photos and update the journal.
Later I took a tour of some of the city's temples and monasteries. Those are all crumbling affairs... it's sort of sad, really... they haven't had proper maintenance since the 80s, at least. But the sadness isn't really warranted: the monasteries in the city aren't really living places. They are just museum pieces. The real spiritualism is happening at facilities in the countryside. Stalin had most of the monks of the monks of his time murdered or integrated into secular society, but it would seem that religion has been enjoying a resurgence since the breakup of the USSR.
I made a mistake earlier. Some of the temples in this city are older than 100 years. One palace of the Bogd Khan (he was head of state when Mongolia was briefly a Buddhist theocracy in the 1910s) survives. It was built in 1903. Also, parts of the Ghandan Khiid, a monastery on the outside of town were constructed in 1838.
Buddhism here is of the Tibetan mode. I dig the difference in iconography as compared to western Europe's Zen Buddhism ("Seon" in Korea). That model is pretty minimalistic in terms of temple images and representations of deities and protectors. Tibetan Buddhism is quite different. A highlight of my trip to Karakorum this past August was going to a temple and seeing a female idol wielding four swords and sporting a chunky necklace of human skulls. Not exactly the smiling fat-man at the urban temple I worked at in Suncheon.
I learned that it was one of the later Mongol Khans who created the title of "Dalai Lama." Altan Khan was converted to Buddhism in the late 16th century, and later named Tibetan leader Sonam Gyato as the third Dalai Lama (while designating the first two posthumously) (31). Curiously it was Altan Khan who would later lead the last conquest of the crumbling Mongol empire - a war against the kingdom of Tibet.
But back on topic: my wanderings today took me into the ger-district ghettos on the outside of town. Those places are pretty sad. Living conditions are quite shitty... everything is dusty and sanitation is medieval. The "ger," as I wrote earlier is the traditional yurt that Mongolian people have been living in for the past 1000 years.
One assumes that that unemployment in the ghettos is very high. People are poor in the countryside, also... but the nomads have possessions (herds of animals) and they live in a clean place. Not so, the urban poor.
Tselmeg tells me that about 70% of the urban population lives in the ghettos. Math tells me that is about 30% of the national population. The government, she says, wants to build apartments for the people, but first they must agree to sell their land. She says that people are hopeful, but building affordable housing for one million people would be a tall order in ANY country.
Anyhow, after checking out the districts, I wandered over to Tsagaan Tolgoi hill, to hopefully enjoy a nice view of the city. But without success. That hill contains a collection of stones called an ovoo (literally, a pile of stones with, perhaps, some prayer flags). Unfortunately for me, a trio of locals were enjoying a drink on the hill when I arrived. Upon seeing me, though, they all put down their drinks and picked up really large rocks.
So, obviously, I went back down the hill.
Dave pointed out yesterday afternoon that one difference between when he first visited Mongolia and today is the existence today of a significant anti-foreigner sentiment. I experienced a bit of that last time also (more on that in a later entry!) but I was hoping it was an isolated incident.
Guess not.
Everyone in our little ex-pat community in Suncheon used to giggle at the silly xenophobia of the Korean people. We were right to laugh at that, but I never, EVER felt unsafe in that country. No matter where I was, no matter what time. Here though, and in other countries, I have felt extremely unsafe.
Such a funny world we live in.
11:00, UB.
Walking around Ulaanbaatar again. UB is good for that. Not exactly a picturesque city, but it does the trick.
I started today with a walk to a Japanese place around the corner from Tselmeg's apartment. They sell a toasted egg and cheese sandwich with a dollop of salad and a drink for about $2.25 US. Best deal in town!
Followed that with a trip to the Internet place to upload a few photos and update the journal.
Later I took a tour of some of the city's temples and monasteries. Those are all crumbling affairs... it's sort of sad, really... they haven't had proper maintenance since the 80s, at least. But the sadness isn't really warranted: the monasteries in the city aren't really living places. They are just museum pieces. The real spiritualism is happening at facilities in the countryside. Stalin had most of the monks of the monks of his time murdered or integrated into secular society, but it would seem that religion has been enjoying a resurgence since the breakup of the USSR.
I made a mistake earlier. Some of the temples in this city are older than 100 years. One palace of the Bogd Khan (he was head of state when Mongolia was briefly a Buddhist theocracy in the 1910s) survives. It was built in 1903. Also, parts of the Ghandan Khiid, a monastery on the outside of town were constructed in 1838.
Buddhism here is of the Tibetan mode. I dig the difference in iconography as compared to western Europe's Zen Buddhism ("Seon" in Korea). That model is pretty minimalistic in terms of temple images and representations of deities and protectors. Tibetan Buddhism is quite different. A highlight of my trip to Karakorum this past August was going to a temple and seeing a female idol wielding four swords and sporting a chunky necklace of human skulls. Not exactly the smiling fat-man at the urban temple I worked at in Suncheon.
I learned that it was one of the later Mongol Khans who created the title of "Dalai Lama." Altan Khan was converted to Buddhism in the late 16th century, and later named Tibetan leader Sonam Gyato as the third Dalai Lama (while designating the first two posthumously) (31). Curiously it was Altan Khan who would later lead the last conquest of the crumbling Mongol empire - a war against the kingdom of Tibet.
But back on topic: my wanderings today took me into the ger-district ghettos on the outside of town. Those places are pretty sad. Living conditions are quite shitty... everything is dusty and sanitation is medieval. The "ger," as I wrote earlier is the traditional yurt that Mongolian people have been living in for the past 1000 years.
One assumes that that unemployment in the ghettos is very high. People are poor in the countryside, also... but the nomads have possessions (herds of animals) and they live in a clean place. Not so, the urban poor.
Tselmeg tells me that about 70% of the urban population lives in the ghettos. Math tells me that is about 30% of the national population. The government, she says, wants to build apartments for the people, but first they must agree to sell their land. She says that people are hopeful, but building affordable housing for one million people would be a tall order in ANY country.
Anyhow, after checking out the districts, I wandered over to Tsagaan Tolgoi hill, to hopefully enjoy a nice view of the city. But without success. That hill contains a collection of stones called an ovoo (literally, a pile of stones with, perhaps, some prayer flags). Unfortunately for me, a trio of locals were enjoying a drink on the hill when I arrived. Upon seeing me, though, they all put down their drinks and picked up really large rocks.
So, obviously, I went back down the hill.
Dave pointed out yesterday afternoon that one difference between when he first visited Mongolia and today is the existence today of a significant anti-foreigner sentiment. I experienced a bit of that last time also (more on that in a later entry!) but I was hoping it was an isolated incident.
Guess not.
Everyone in our little ex-pat community in Suncheon used to giggle at the silly xenophobia of the Korean people. We were right to laugh at that, but I never, EVER felt unsafe in that country. No matter where I was, no matter what time. Here though, and in other countries, I have felt extremely unsafe.
Such a funny world we live in.
11:00, UB.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Day 21:
Another day in Ulaanbaatar. I'm starting to feel a little stagnant.
Tselmeg's place is in one of the Soviet block apartment buildings near the center of town. It's one building down from where my hostel was last year.
As I walked the street to the building a couple of nights ago, I thought about how easy it would be to live here. Financially easy, since rent on one of these places is about 200 USD a month, utilities are cheap and food can be cheap also. But not just easy is that sense - the town is a nice size. It's easy to get a handle on the best place for a plate of food, the best place for a drink, the best book stores and supermarkets...
A bit like Halifax, in that regard.
I saw a posting for a teacher wanted at an NGO in the western countryside. It was all I could do to not jot down the contact information.
Longer one next time. Rather tired now.
11:30 pm, UB
Another day in Ulaanbaatar. I'm starting to feel a little stagnant.
Tselmeg's place is in one of the Soviet block apartment buildings near the center of town. It's one building down from where my hostel was last year.
As I walked the street to the building a couple of nights ago, I thought about how easy it would be to live here. Financially easy, since rent on one of these places is about 200 USD a month, utilities are cheap and food can be cheap also. But not just easy is that sense - the town is a nice size. It's easy to get a handle on the best place for a plate of food, the best place for a drink, the best book stores and supermarkets...
A bit like Halifax, in that regard.
I saw a posting for a teacher wanted at an NGO in the western countryside. It was all I could do to not jot down the contact information.
Longer one next time. Rather tired now.
11:30 pm, UB
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Days 18,19,20
Three days in Mongolia, now. This is my second stay in the country. Last time I was at a hostel, and this time I staying at the apartment of my old friend Tselmeg.
I'm in the capital, Ulaanbaator. Since this is my second time here, I'm just sort of hanging out. I'm not exploring much this time, and I'm not really thinking critically.
So I don't have much to write about. Regardless, here are a few notes:
Ulaanbaator has a population of about 1.5 million (another 1.2 million people inhabit the Mongolian countryside). The city is a sprawling low-rise affair. In true ex-soviet fashion, the center of town is dominated by a huge public square. Most of the buildings in town are of the soviet style - there are a few grandiose (sort of...) government buildings and a whole lot of concrete block apartment buildings for the populace. And there is one statue of Lenin, of course.
The center of town suggests a certain amount of wealth and economic development. There are a few decently made buildings, and a whole lot of stuff for the tourists, of which there are many more than in Russia. Away from the city center, though, we find the ger districts - ghetto quarters where most of the local population lives in the traditional style of housing... a sort of yurt/teepee home called (of course) a "ger."
There is nothing particularly old in town. Before communism hit in the early 1920s, the capital of the Mongolian state would often move. I don't mean that different cities would be named capital, but rather that the capital city would physically move - a rather simple thing because pre-communist Mongolian cities consisted mostly of gers. Accordingly, nothing in this town is more than 100 years old.
So, yeah. That's the history of the town. More on that later, when I can find the words to write more about the overall history of Mongolia.
At the present, the weather is very cool, but not cold. It's nice. Tselmeg and I have spent all of today sitting outside of "Dave's Place," which is a very nice Irish bar located right off of the main square. The titular Dave is a neat guy, and has run this business for a number of years (four? five? I can't remember). He's lived in the city even longer (seven years? eight?). His bar is a popular ex-pat hangout.
Incidentally, there's a whole lot of Korean influence in this city. Lots of Korean restaurants and hotels, lots of beauty salons and a whole lot of Hyundai Cars. I noticed last time I was in the city that even the arcade games at the local cinema are Korean cast-offs.
Oh, and fuck... it's also a very dusty city. No one has thought to plant grass or flowers around the streets, so whenever the wind picks up the dust gets everywhere.
So, I'm not sure when I'll leave here. Maybe I'll stay for a week. Maybe two. Maybe I'll venture into the countryside. Maybe not.
Ulaanbaator
Three days in Mongolia, now. This is my second stay in the country. Last time I was at a hostel, and this time I staying at the apartment of my old friend Tselmeg.
I'm in the capital, Ulaanbaator. Since this is my second time here, I'm just sort of hanging out. I'm not exploring much this time, and I'm not really thinking critically.
So I don't have much to write about. Regardless, here are a few notes:
Ulaanbaator has a population of about 1.5 million (another 1.2 million people inhabit the Mongolian countryside). The city is a sprawling low-rise affair. In true ex-soviet fashion, the center of town is dominated by a huge public square. Most of the buildings in town are of the soviet style - there are a few grandiose (sort of...) government buildings and a whole lot of concrete block apartment buildings for the populace. And there is one statue of Lenin, of course.
The center of town suggests a certain amount of wealth and economic development. There are a few decently made buildings, and a whole lot of stuff for the tourists, of which there are many more than in Russia. Away from the city center, though, we find the ger districts - ghetto quarters where most of the local population lives in the traditional style of housing... a sort of yurt/teepee home called (of course) a "ger."
There is nothing particularly old in town. Before communism hit in the early 1920s, the capital of the Mongolian state would often move. I don't mean that different cities would be named capital, but rather that the capital city would physically move - a rather simple thing because pre-communist Mongolian cities consisted mostly of gers. Accordingly, nothing in this town is more than 100 years old.
So, yeah. That's the history of the town. More on that later, when I can find the words to write more about the overall history of Mongolia.
At the present, the weather is very cool, but not cold. It's nice. Tselmeg and I have spent all of today sitting outside of "Dave's Place," which is a very nice Irish bar located right off of the main square. The titular Dave is a neat guy, and has run this business for a number of years (four? five? I can't remember). He's lived in the city even longer (seven years? eight?). His bar is a popular ex-pat hangout.
Incidentally, there's a whole lot of Korean influence in this city. Lots of Korean restaurants and hotels, lots of beauty salons and a whole lot of Hyundai Cars. I noticed last time I was in the city that even the arcade games at the local cinema are Korean cast-offs.
Oh, and fuck... it's also a very dusty city. No one has thought to plant grass or flowers around the streets, so whenever the wind picks up the dust gets everywhere.
So, I'm not sure when I'll leave here. Maybe I'll stay for a week. Maybe two. Maybe I'll venture into the countryside. Maybe not.
Ulaanbaator
Friday, May 04, 2007
Day 17. May Day.
Ginsberg's America is the final word on Russian and American relations. Everyone lost the cold war. In 1956 Ginsberg wrote:
"America when I was seven momma took me to Communist cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1935 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Ampter plain. Everybody must have been a spy" (42).
I read that in Tynda. Ginsberg's nostalgia made me tear up a little. Everyone lost the cold war, but the honest communists in America took a hit so many decades before the wall came down...
"When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?" (39).
The Russian socialists got their chance and blew it. But, regardless, everyone here insists that the poor are worse off than they were in the USSR.
"America you don't really want to go to war" (42).
And so on.
"America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel" (43).
"The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages" (43).
"This is the impression I get from looking in the television set" (43).
Ginsberg was already nostalgic for a workers movement back in 1956! In 2007 we must all be doomed!
A couple days of rest and then some Mongolian thoughts. I arrived a few hours ago.
Ulaanbaatar, 8:35 pm, Dave's Place
Ginsberg's America is the final word on Russian and American relations. Everyone lost the cold war. In 1956 Ginsberg wrote:
"America when I was seven momma took me to Communist cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1935 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Ampter plain. Everybody must have been a spy" (42).
I read that in Tynda. Ginsberg's nostalgia made me tear up a little. Everyone lost the cold war, but the honest communists in America took a hit so many decades before the wall came down...
"When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?" (39).
The Russian socialists got their chance and blew it. But, regardless, everyone here insists that the poor are worse off than they were in the USSR.
"America you don't really want to go to war" (42).
And so on.
"America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel" (43).
"The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages" (43).
"This is the impression I get from looking in the television set" (43).
Ginsberg was already nostalgic for a workers movement back in 1956! In 2007 we must all be doomed!
A couple days of rest and then some Mongolian thoughts. I arrived a few hours ago.
Ulaanbaatar, 8:35 pm, Dave's Place
Day 16:
Yesterday and today in Ulan-Ude. It's a pleasant city. I think about thirty percent of the population here in Mongolian. Not strictly "Mongolian," actually - the people here are of the Buryat culture, which is one of the two dozen ethnic groups that constitute present day Mongolia. If I remember correctly from my visit in August, Mongolian people constitute about 82 percent of the 2.7 million people in Mongolia, Khazak people constitute another six percent, while the other groups make up the rest. I believe there are 60,000 Buryat people in the country. It would seem, then, that there are more Buryat people outside than in.
In addition to an eclectic cultural milieu, Ulan-Ude also possess what claims to be the largest statute in the world of Vladimir Lenin's head. Not the whole body of that great man - no, just his HEAD. Sort of creepy.
There are some enjoyable walks around town to be had, and some exquisite old buildings to check out. The old opera house is a treat, as are the traditional wooden structures.
While walking yesterday, I met a young man (seventeen years old) and his father, travelling by train to the nearby city of Irkutsk. They had spent the past week on a rollerblading (!) trip in China. I asked them, too, about Lenin's death - back in Canada, Karen insisted yesterday that it was a big deal at home, and she couldn't believe it wasn't such an item in Russia. The younger of the duo insisted that young people simply don't care, while his father proclaimed that Yeltsin "broke the country." Curiously it was also a big deal in China; the pair told me that one Chinese man frantically tried to mime the news to them when he heard it on the radio, only to be met by a shrug of indifference.
Anyhow.
Ulan-Ude seems a tamer town than Chita. Chita was full of rather stereotypical young Russians: young men with closely sheared heads and surly (cheap) black leather jackets. And open bottles. My God, the open bottles! Everyone... young, old, male, female strolls around Russia with an open bottle of booze (usually Vodka). It's sort of horrible. But it's not so present in Ulan-Ude. That makes the city much nicer, I think.
While strolling today, I encountered a couple of young Russian university students. They didn't speak much English, but we were able to communicate a little in French. That felt pretty cool. The elementary and high school French lessons I endured always made me feel (very, very) anxious, but when I get back to Canada, I might give some lessons a shot. I was able to sit through an entire YEAR of University French instruction. Sybille Bedford said at the end of her last book (I paraphrase): "remaining monolingual is akin to limiting one's mind to the straight path of a streetcar."
Mongolia tomorrow.
-A cafe, Ulan-Ude, 6:00 pm
Yesterday and today in Ulan-Ude. It's a pleasant city. I think about thirty percent of the population here in Mongolian. Not strictly "Mongolian," actually - the people here are of the Buryat culture, which is one of the two dozen ethnic groups that constitute present day Mongolia. If I remember correctly from my visit in August, Mongolian people constitute about 82 percent of the 2.7 million people in Mongolia, Khazak people constitute another six percent, while the other groups make up the rest. I believe there are 60,000 Buryat people in the country. It would seem, then, that there are more Buryat people outside than in.
In addition to an eclectic cultural milieu, Ulan-Ude also possess what claims to be the largest statute in the world of Vladimir Lenin's head. Not the whole body of that great man - no, just his HEAD. Sort of creepy.
There are some enjoyable walks around town to be had, and some exquisite old buildings to check out. The old opera house is a treat, as are the traditional wooden structures.
While walking yesterday, I met a young man (seventeen years old) and his father, travelling by train to the nearby city of Irkutsk. They had spent the past week on a rollerblading (!) trip in China. I asked them, too, about Lenin's death - back in Canada, Karen insisted yesterday that it was a big deal at home, and she couldn't believe it wasn't such an item in Russia. The younger of the duo insisted that young people simply don't care, while his father proclaimed that Yeltsin "broke the country." Curiously it was also a big deal in China; the pair told me that one Chinese man frantically tried to mime the news to them when he heard it on the radio, only to be met by a shrug of indifference.
Anyhow.
Ulan-Ude seems a tamer town than Chita. Chita was full of rather stereotypical young Russians: young men with closely sheared heads and surly (cheap) black leather jackets. And open bottles. My God, the open bottles! Everyone... young, old, male, female strolls around Russia with an open bottle of booze (usually Vodka). It's sort of horrible. But it's not so present in Ulan-Ude. That makes the city much nicer, I think.
While strolling today, I encountered a couple of young Russian university students. They didn't speak much English, but we were able to communicate a little in French. That felt pretty cool. The elementary and high school French lessons I endured always made me feel (very, very) anxious, but when I get back to Canada, I might give some lessons a shot. I was able to sit through an entire YEAR of University French instruction. Sybille Bedford said at the end of her last book (I paraphrase): "remaining monolingual is akin to limiting one's mind to the straight path of a streetcar."
Mongolia tomorrow.
-A cafe, Ulan-Ude, 6:00 pm
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)