we spent two days in terelj national park, sleeping in a ger (mongol yurt). the park is gorgeous - i recommend looking at pictures on google image. those rocks, all granite i believe, made for the best climbing yet in these last couple months. the first day we took a horse ride, but it was not good. it was far too cold, with the wind piercing easily every piece of clothing i had. it was warmer to just walk, so i did. this evoked the wrath of our guide. he had been micromanaging us the entire time, yelling at us to go the same direction we were already going, over and over. he screamed at me, got off his horse, did everything he could without actually touching me, but i was too stubborn and too uncomfortable to just do what i was told. he finally gave up, but there were some strong feelings left in the air between us the rest of the ride. (i wish i'd known at the time, some tourists on a ride the day before had been very rude and disrespectful. so he was probably just primed for a nasty confrontation.)
the second day eli and i tried to get as far as we could in one day. we hiked along the ridge-tops going east from our camp, climbing up lots of the big rocks for the views. i collected rocks all along the way, finding (quartz?) crystals and obsidian other things i can't identify. i regret not studying a natural science, geology really, instead of what i did. i could have given myself my political education in any case. i really am hooked on rocks at this point. and lichens. terelj was thick with them. just perfect, it easily made up for the fact that just about everything else was dormant and brown and hunkered down for the brutal mongol winter.
besides those two excursions, we spent most of those two weeks in ulaan bator. its odd that i was ok with it, as cities usually repulse me. it might have been the cold (!) and the wind (!), keeping us near the warmth and comfort of our hostel. it might have been the abundance of international food, and how cheap it was. it might have been the fact that i had the energy and initiative to get political research done, and hash it all out with eli. lots of time went into this.
one of our last nights there, i had one of the more dramatic adventures of my travel life so far. we were out to celebrate the birthday of william, a british guy we'd been hanging out with. by 3 am, we had stopped at about four establishments, and were ready for home. in UB there are only a couple metered taxis - traditionally, anyone can just wave down any car, and they will reset their trip odometer. they charge about 50 cents per km. this worked out almost every time, although sometimes we had to argue. in this case, the driver demanded some ridiculous amount, and we argued. i was in the front seat, with my bag on my lap, and everyone else got out. to prevent me from getting out, he grabbed onto the strap of my bag, and he was big, way bigger than me, so there were no questions about a struggle. then he hit the gas. my door flapping open, eli and the two brits chasing us down the street, his meaty hand clamped on my bag, we took off.
i told him take us to the cops, they will sort this out. this was preferable to being dropped off way outside the city, but i knew what would happen with the cops. they would listen to and understand him (and his lies about how much i owed) and would take everything of value from me, sharing it with the taxi but taking a cut of course. so we find some cops, and they search me, taking my money (luckily only had about $1.50). but they also take my leatherman. the taxi drove off, leaving me to argue with the cops. i was not about to lose that tool. it was a gift from my mother, was useful almost every day, was indispensable for work in AK, was worth about $80, and certainly could not be replaced in mongolia.
i knelt inside the cop car's open door, leaning in, and badgered those cops, holding out my hands for them to return my tool, spouting off every argument conceivable to me. you are stealing from me, its not right to steal. that was a gift from my mother (i drew them a family tree). my initials are carved into it, here is my ID, my name, my initials, mine. how could you keep this knowing my initials are on it? repeat, repeat, repeat. they yelled "ugui!" (no) and i yelled ugui! right back. they shoved me, made threatening gestures - dragging knife across throat, pretended to kick me, grabbed at my neck. but they weren't really serious. i could tell, they kept looking down, looking at the leatherman, unsure of themselves. i was having a hard time not cracking up. i kept having to look away. it was the same coping method as dealing with the enraged screaming horse guide: look away, imagine self somewhere else, take deep breath, and continue playing determined role in a detached way. stubborn, ignoring adversaries, just going through motions.
it finally worked. they handed it back, i walked away. as soon as i was out of sight, i sprinted home, cackling maniacally the whole way. i never could have done all that, badgering those cops into returning my tool, if i hadn't been fairly intoxicated. its not like i would have been scared if sober (there were people all around, no reputations of police brutality, especially for foreigners), but i would have been self-conscious and my normal timid self. i would have given up early.
back at the hostel, my three friends were upset. they had tried to call the cops, had one of the managers on the phone, had told everyone that i'd been kidnapped by a taxi. it was all much harder for them than it was for me. they had to worry about the unknown, i just had to say to myself "well here we go..."
i found out the next day that technically it's illegal to carry a knife, so maybe the cops were trying to tell me that. it was a miracle that they gave it back.
oh yeah, and "getting checked" because mongolians seem run into each other a lot. on a big wide sidewalk, people will just put their shoulders right into you. it doesn't seem loaded with intimidation like it would in the states. maybe its just how they cuddle. in any case, we got kind of tired of it. also, russia checked us pretty effectively. its funny how poorly that chunk of our travels turned out. if we'd known, we probably would have flown straight from bangkok to eastern europe. its hard to regret those last three weeks though.
the second day eli and i tried to get as far as we could in one day. we hiked along the ridge-tops going east from our camp, climbing up lots of the big rocks for the views. i collected rocks all along the way, finding (quartz?) crystals and obsidian other things i can't identify. i regret not studying a natural science, geology really, instead of what i did. i could have given myself my political education in any case. i really am hooked on rocks at this point. and lichens. terelj was thick with them. just perfect, it easily made up for the fact that just about everything else was dormant and brown and hunkered down for the brutal mongol winter.
besides those two excursions, we spent most of those two weeks in ulaan bator. its odd that i was ok with it, as cities usually repulse me. it might have been the cold (!) and the wind (!), keeping us near the warmth and comfort of our hostel. it might have been the abundance of international food, and how cheap it was. it might have been the fact that i had the energy and initiative to get political research done, and hash it all out with eli. lots of time went into this.
one of our last nights there, i had one of the more dramatic adventures of my travel life so far. we were out to celebrate the birthday of william, a british guy we'd been hanging out with. by 3 am, we had stopped at about four establishments, and were ready for home. in UB there are only a couple metered taxis - traditionally, anyone can just wave down any car, and they will reset their trip odometer. they charge about 50 cents per km. this worked out almost every time, although sometimes we had to argue. in this case, the driver demanded some ridiculous amount, and we argued. i was in the front seat, with my bag on my lap, and everyone else got out. to prevent me from getting out, he grabbed onto the strap of my bag, and he was big, way bigger than me, so there were no questions about a struggle. then he hit the gas. my door flapping open, eli and the two brits chasing us down the street, his meaty hand clamped on my bag, we took off.
i told him take us to the cops, they will sort this out. this was preferable to being dropped off way outside the city, but i knew what would happen with the cops. they would listen to and understand him (and his lies about how much i owed) and would take everything of value from me, sharing it with the taxi but taking a cut of course. so we find some cops, and they search me, taking my money (luckily only had about $1.50). but they also take my leatherman. the taxi drove off, leaving me to argue with the cops. i was not about to lose that tool. it was a gift from my mother, was useful almost every day, was indispensable for work in AK, was worth about $80, and certainly could not be replaced in mongolia.
i knelt inside the cop car's open door, leaning in, and badgered those cops, holding out my hands for them to return my tool, spouting off every argument conceivable to me. you are stealing from me, its not right to steal. that was a gift from my mother (i drew them a family tree). my initials are carved into it, here is my ID, my name, my initials, mine. how could you keep this knowing my initials are on it? repeat, repeat, repeat. they yelled "ugui!" (no) and i yelled ugui! right back. they shoved me, made threatening gestures - dragging knife across throat, pretended to kick me, grabbed at my neck. but they weren't really serious. i could tell, they kept looking down, looking at the leatherman, unsure of themselves. i was having a hard time not cracking up. i kept having to look away. it was the same coping method as dealing with the enraged screaming horse guide: look away, imagine self somewhere else, take deep breath, and continue playing determined role in a detached way. stubborn, ignoring adversaries, just going through motions.
it finally worked. they handed it back, i walked away. as soon as i was out of sight, i sprinted home, cackling maniacally the whole way. i never could have done all that, badgering those cops into returning my tool, if i hadn't been fairly intoxicated. its not like i would have been scared if sober (there were people all around, no reputations of police brutality, especially for foreigners), but i would have been self-conscious and my normal timid self. i would have given up early.
back at the hostel, my three friends were upset. they had tried to call the cops, had one of the managers on the phone, had told everyone that i'd been kidnapped by a taxi. it was all much harder for them than it was for me. they had to worry about the unknown, i just had to say to myself "well here we go..."
i found out the next day that technically it's illegal to carry a knife, so maybe the cops were trying to tell me that. it was a miracle that they gave it back.
oh yeah, and "getting checked" because mongolians seem run into each other a lot. on a big wide sidewalk, people will just put their shoulders right into you. it doesn't seem loaded with intimidation like it would in the states. maybe its just how they cuddle. in any case, we got kind of tired of it. also, russia checked us pretty effectively. its funny how poorly that chunk of our travels turned out. if we'd known, we probably would have flown straight from bangkok to eastern europe. its hard to regret those last three weeks though.
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