I can’t sleep. Not sure if it’s the jet lag or that I know I need to be up at 4am to catch the bus to the airport. Also a bit of anxiety that the information I was given about the bus is correct, that my bags are going to get soaked in the pouring rain, and that it’s dodgy to be on the streets at 4:30am .
The anxiety is totally unfounded. The bus shows up on time, the rain had all but stopped and I feel safe walking the short distance to the bus stop. I meet three lovely Japanese women waiting for the bus who want to practice their English. With the assistance of Google translate we manage a conversation about where they’re from, where I’m traveling to and what it’s like to study abroad.
I arrive at the airport in plenty of time and make my way through security without incident other than when I attempt to explain through sign language and gesturing that my film can’t go through x-Ray and that my mini printer isn’t a threat to national security.
As we’re coming in to land I look out the window and see nothing but rolling brown hills with a tint of green and the odd sets of tire tracks winding their way towards the horizon. No sign of humans as far as the eye can see. A desolate place. Reminds me of the wide open spaces in Tibet. Places that make you feel insignificant and swallowed up by the vastness of it.
My driver from Eternal Landscapes is waiting for me at Arrivals and when I go to hop in the car, I realize the steering wheel is on the opposite side of the car. Okay, this is bizarre. They drive on the same side of the road as us so why do their vehicles have the steering wheel on the wrong side??
We begin the 1.5 hour journey into Ulaanbattar. The airport is in the middle of nowhere other than a few gers dotting the countryside with fenced horse pastures. A short time later, we come over a rise and I see thousands of multi-coloured roofs, skyscrapers and a traffic jam. We have arrived on the outskirts of the largest, and only city in Mongolia that has a population of just over a million. Considering the entire country has a total population of just over three million, this is where the majority of the locals reside.
The traffic is bumper to bumper, with cars weaving through the lanes with inches to spare between cars. The driver stops suddenly for a pedestrian. Simultaneously, I hear a loud bang and my neck snaps forward. We’ve been rear-ended! The driver shakes his head and mutters something unintelligible in Mongolian and hops out to inspect the damage. After a few minutes he returns and I ask if he’s ok. He nods and points at the vehicle that struck us as it drives past. The damage is minimal, my vertebrae are intact and we continue on. Motorbikes drive in between the lanes of vehicles along with a young kid, wearing no helmet, on a non-motorized scooter. These people are taking their lives in their hands.
We arrive at my hotel without further incident and I get checked in. Unfortunately I’ve arrived on a Sunday so no banks are open and I have zero local currency. I’m bloody starving and wondering if I’m going to be waiting until the morning to eat. I grab my camera bag and head out to the main square a block away. The square is packed with hundreds of tented kiosks selling books. Teenagers are dressed up in suits and dresses and carrying bouquets of flowers – some sort of graduation?
I haven’t been in the square five minutes and a young guy on a bike approaches me with his portfolio of paintings he’s selling. Sheep leather painted with landscape scenarios and warriors. They’re actually pretty good but I tell him that I’ve literally just stepped off the plane from Korea and I don’t have any Mongolian money. He spreads his arms broadly, and smiling says,
“I happily accept Korean money” like his solution has just solved world hunger.
“Of course you do. And how much would I be paying for one of these in Korean money?”
We haggle back and forth for a few minutes and decide on a price. I’m pretty sure he’s fleecing me but that’s ok. I’m happy to support a local artist. He says it was nice to meet me and wishes me a good day before riding off.
Not two minutes later I’m approached by an elderly gentleman who introduces himself as Mr. Bolod. He owns a guesthouse that was voted the best in Ulaanbattar by Lonely Planet no less than three times. He leans in and whispers,
“I didn’t pay them for the votes. You can’t do that with Lonely Planet!”
He also runs small tours to visit the local ger community and shows me his book of photos. In fact, he’s taken so many visitors on tours that this is his 66th book! I congratulate him and tell him I’m impressed. He gives me his card and says there’s no pressure but he must promote his business. When I tell him I’m from Canada, he starts speaking French which of course I can’t understand. Then he switches to Italian and I tell him now he’s just plain showing off 😃. He says it was nice to meet me and wishes me a good day.
I leave the square in search of Choijin Lama Temple Museum and locate it close by. It reminds me of some of the temples I visited while in Tibet with lots of colour, gold buddhas and scary looking painted masks.
The city is more modern than I expected with skyscrapers, brand name clothing shops that we have at home, high-end cars and fashionably dressed locals. Kids are wearing Nikes and Converse and I see a young guy with a Drew sweatshirt (Justin Beiber’s brand).
The majority of the people are quite reserved and only a couple locals smile back at me when I walk past. I’ve been told that although they may appear to be standoffish, once you start talking to them they’re friendly. Just takes a bit for them to warm up to people they don’t know. The few people I’ve spoken to so far have been really nice.
I come across a park with a Beatles statue (hmm, pretty sure they never played here so not sure what that’s about), food trucks and kids roller skating and skate boarding. One of the skaters is wearing a Montreal Canadiens hockey jersey which makes me giggle. Where the hell did he pick that up?
I find a restaurant that takes Korean money and I order a plate of stir fried noodles, chicken and veggies. The waitress brings out not a plate, but a platter, of food. I think I ordered an item meant for sharing but I’m so hungry I don’t care and proceed to inhale the entire thing.
As I wander the streets back to the hotel, I can’t believe I’m actually in Mongolia. I’ve been wanting to visit this country since I was a kid and saw my Grampa’s photos of his trip here. The surreal thing is that my tour starts on May 29th…my Grampa’s birthday😳. Sometimes shit like this happens and I know I’m meant to be somewhere.
