Border Crossing 8/11- 8/12

On the morning of August 12th Brad woke me up, letting me know he saw Lake Baikal and it was probably about time to get off the train.


The previous morning we thought we would have our own train cabin on the ride from Ulan Batur to Irkutsk, Russia. We were the only people in our four person cabin as we rode through Mongolia. The windows did not open and the conductors continued to close our cabin door. After we played a few rounds of cards it was obvious that if we stayed perfectly still we would be less hot. And as we laid there I thought it was only fair that I too remove my shirt. In fear that we would suffocate I got out my fan. As I lay on one side of the cabin, Brad in the other, both of us shirtless and me waving a fan, a Mongolian passenger opened the door, visibly annoyed that we were occupying the entire cabin. I put my shirt on and the male and female Mongolian pair brought all their luggage into the cabin.



Our cabin mates did not speak English, but we slowly learned much about them. Upon first glance they seemed to be mother and son. The closer we got to the border the more stuff this pair pulled out, primarily clothes. They began stuffing these clothes into the clothes they were already wearing. The woman was putting socks down her pants. And the boy small pants under his own. We were sharing the cabin with smugglers. As we walked around the train car it was clear that every Mongolian person on the train was a smuggler. The mother and son pair put a leather jacket on our side of the cabin, to make it appear to be ours. As we got closer the duo filled out customs forms. And once that was all finished they could only wait and relax. The boy then put his feet on the woman's lap and she began stroking them. It was then clear that it was not a mother and son pair.
We had been warned about Russian customs officers. But, at this point, I was far more nervous for the smugglers than our legitimate documents. Somehow our cabin mates and the rest of the smugglers on the train were let past border patrol. We then all had to get off the train and wait while train cars were changed before we entered Russia.

Pick Pockets 8/4- 8/11

The following morning we ate our last meal at Mr. Lee's, a Chinese fast food restaurant. It was August 4th and our across the globe train journey was beginning. We boarded the train for a thirty hour ride to Mongolia's capital city, Ulan Bator.



Our train ride to Mongolia was beautiful and pleasant. We shared a four person berth with just one other Mongolian woman. She was composed, quiet and sweet. She reminded me of a Japanese woman. She told us that Russia was dangerous and Ulan Batuar was even more so. She was married to a Korean man and they were living in China. She was speaking Korean on the phone to him and English to us. She spoke Mongolian to the train conductor and studied Chinese in college. We ate in the restaurant car separately and drank instant coffee in the berth together. When I finished Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake I gave the book to the Mongolian woman, she read it faster than I.


We crossed the border at Erlian China and arrived in Mongolia in the middle of the night. The following morning Brad and I stuck our heads out the window with the other Western tourists and admired the open fields that are rare in the parts of Asia we had traveled.


The train was relaxing. Everyone ate and slept. I read and wrote in my journal while Brad listened to music and put his fleece on as it slowly got cooler. It made Beijing feel even more hot and crowded. I thought about how I never wanted to live in a city. And, as I expected, my fond memories of Ikeda were beginning.
When we got off the train in Ulan Batur my first impression was that it was incredibly shady. It seemed to be where the East and West were colliding. In my experience, people in Asia do not take things that do not belong to them with as much aggression as people do in the West. But, in Ulan Batur people were ready to use scams, weapons, or any other method that could get them the things they wanted. Our hostel had a sign that suggested people do not to go out after midnight. And most establishments warned people about pickpockets. A little after sunset Brad and I were walking back to the hostel as a man attempted to stick his hand in my purse. Brad noticed and he pulled it away without any other care. Moments later a group of kids threw rocks at us.



We quickly took an opportunity to go to Terelj National Park, about 37 kilometers from Ulan Batur, to stay in a yurt with a Mongolian family. When we arrived it was rainy. Everyone was escorted into different yurts. Brad and I were the last two and we got to hang out in the family yurt. When we walked in the teenage kids turned off the television and straightened up the living room. We told them the television was fine. Then we laid down on some blankets and watched American movies that were dubbed in Mongolian.



The inside of the yurt was like living in an elegant tent.




When the rain cleared up we went on a short hike and rode horses. That evening we hung out with the cute Mongolian baby who lived in the cluster of yurts we were staying in.



The following morning when a van came to pick up those who wanted to leave, Brad and I made the easy decision to ride back to Ulan Batur.

The rest of our time in Ulan Batur was spent wearing money belts and wondering around the city. We returned to the same French cafe consecutive mornings. It was August 8th and I was sitting in that cafe around noon with Brad. He was studying Cyrillic and I was reading The Diary of Anne Frank. I wanted to finish that book quickly because it made me feel like a twelve year old as I was reading it. But, it can capture anyones heart. I could not keep my eyes off the pages of the book and Brad told me he was getting Cyrillic. As I sat there in that coffee shop my backpack and everything that matter was in a hostel dorm room and I thought about how I wanted my life to resemble this. Saturdays at noon in a familiar coffee shop with a partner. But, as I write this, in a familiar coffee shop in Pittsburgh across from Brad, I want nothing more than to have a trip to look forward too. On the 11th we got a train to Russia. A Russian visa is not easy to acquire. And we were excited to use ours.

Heat in Beijing 8/01- 8/04

Japan was just as hot as China in August. But the smog, trash, and street life made Beijing feel like the hottest place on earth. Brad and I stayed at the Far East Hostel in Beijing. Which was just a short walk from Tiananmen Square.


On the evening of our first full day in Beijing we made the long walk to the rail station. We walked there as the sun was setting and it was concluded that in Beijing private life and public life exists in the same space. Not far from China is Japan where people eat in separate rooms in a restaurant. But, in Beijing, we saw women washing clothes in front of their homes and a man fondling a woman at dusk in a public park.
Once we got to the rail station we weaved in and out of the people sleeping on cardboard boxes and diverted our eyes from the old woman who pulled her shirt up to her chin to fan herself. After an outdoor beer it only felt right if one of us walked home shirtless. And that night we slept on a bed with the air conditioning on high.


Fate timed everything perfectly the following day when we got on the same late bus to the Simatai section of the Great Wall as those French sisters. I sipped a coke and waved a fan, in attempts to fight off inevitable motion sickness that would find me in the back of that Chinese bus. We were then ushered off the bus and into a van with two blonde girls from France. The older of the sisters begin to negotiate the price in Chinese. The driver's voice raised as the French's girls did. She told us that there were no more buses back to Beijing. Brad and I had train tickets to Mongolia for early the following morning. After yelling and finger wagging a price was negotiated that would get us to see the Great Wall and a ride home that evening.



After the French girls yelled and screamed in Chinese they ran up the stairs of the Great Wall to beat the sunset. Brad and I found level ground. I admired the view and hemp leaves next to the wall.





The frantic Chinese driver called the French girl's phone and we had to run back down the stairs to catch the driver before he went back to Beijing as he had picked up more passengers.


On the way back we veered in and out of dogs and bricks in the road. The driver stopped to get a sausage. Of all the truck beds and minivans I have ridden in in Asia this ride back to Beijing was the most horrifying of my life. The driver seemed to have a death wish on everyone in that car. But, we made it. We saw the Great Wall, there were no crowds, and I got some good pictures and being there was just really nice.

The Bus Out 8/01/09

My last evening in Japan was spent with Brad's wonderful Japanese teacher, Mirori Sensei at Cafe Bubo in Naruto. She corrected the way I held my chopsticks. I had held them incorrectly for two years. Then we went back to Sarah's apartment where I shoved that Care Bear I won in Tokyo into my last box to America and I figured out how to use my new fancy camera.

That was six months ago. It was really hot and I had a lot of money. Tonight my back is up against the radiator and I have exactly four dollars in my wallet for bus fare for Monday. The last moments I spent in Japan were perfect. I went out to lunch wearing a tank top and tight shorts. Women commented on my summer attire I understood this subtlety. I had just stopped caring.

Brad and I set a $50 per day budget for our trip and a goal that after we left the Beijing airport we would not arrive at another airport until we left for America, whenever that may be. We had a plane ticket to Beijing and from there a train ticket to Mongolia. We had an approximate date we would arrive in Prague to see my host family. And a lot of stuff we wanted to do and learn as we traveled across the world.

Brad's supervisor was one of the many people at the bus stop to see us off. She brought the new Naruto English teacher's. They looked confused, bored, and hot. We waved to them from the bus that was taking us to the airport and I was thrilled to know I would never feel the way those new people were feeling again.