The quirky case of Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia
Tomorrow, I’ll get on the train to Beijing. I’ve been in Ulaan Baatar one less week than originally planned, but about five days too many.
I know, I said I liked the city. And I did, just fine, for the first three days. It was decidedly not Russia – the supermarket stocked foods from across the globe, the women were beautiful but not so cold, the men were a little punk rock, everyone wore boots, there was a ton of Korean food, and the old ladies in their traditional robes wore bowler hats on their heads.
When you’re here too many days, you begin to see the rest of it. The streets crumbling and unpaved outside the main thoroughfares, trash thrown n’importe où as if the whole earth is a garbage bin, the smell of gamey meat and the grease that sticks to every surface, the distinct hay-scent of cow milk prepared in its many many forms, and the pollution on Peace Avenue from the ever insistent and constant traffic.
Okay, so I also got sick. Maybe that’s why I’m cranky right now. And it was totally my fault. I broke the number one rule of eating in foreign places: go where there’s high turnover. This is also known as the Taco Stand Rule. Always pick the taco stand with the most people – it means the food is the freshest.
It’s funny, I’ve actually never gotten sick from street food. I can’t tell you how many longaniza tacos I ate on Mexico streets (I’m still not quite sure what longaniza is, except for good), and then it was the butter and jam at the hostel’s free breakfast that got me.
Here, let’s look at all the unpasteurized, boiled, or fermented dairy products I’ve eaten, and what gets me? A cheese and meat pastry roll from the bakery. I should have known – it was sitting on the shelf uncovered all day.
So, sickness aside: UB is this idiosyncratic metropolis with designer stores (Louis Vuitton, par exemple) and high rises (the Blue Sky) at its center, surrounded by kilometers of very poor folks living in rented yurts. There is what is often called “rudimentary infrastructure” in much of the country, but the government also shipped out a solar panel to every nomadic yurt which provides everyone power without having to build a nation-wide power grid. In the yurts where we stayed, the families used this power to charge cell phones and power televisions. In a way, it means that everyone is better connected in to civic society.
The city center, despite its confusing clash of rich pretense and scraping by, can be charming. It has a whole lot of inexplicable quirk that’s both endearing and utterly confusing. Behold:
Just a few of the myriad dairy products in Mongolia, in the market hall at the black market
And just a few of the myriad cheap candies at the black market in UB
Togrogs – the Mongolian money – are out of control! This may look like I’m rich, but really it’s only about 20 USD. Keeping track of it all is difficult.
The pigeons at the big temple in town are as out of control as the money!
The State Department Store
Just like home: Cafe Amsterdam, where all the foreigners pull out their MacBooks to surf the internet or check Facebook.
And then I found my fifth grade social studies textbook for sale on the street in UB
I don’t really understand this. It’s in a main square in UB, and it features life-size bronzed Beatles. I’ve walked by it many times but only today I noticed that Paul doesn’t seem to be wearing any shoes.
The way to enjoy Mongolia long term, in my oh so humble opinion, is to seek out sky and land; to get away from the bus exhaust and the weird, indecipherable chemical smells that drift through UB from time to time. I loved being out in the country – it was a relief after a sinus cold in Moscow and a row with bedbugs in Baikal, because I felt fresh and healthy. I felt like I was cracking my third and fourth chakras open on the jumble of the horse.
I had intended to stay in Mongolia for three weeks and spend most of that time outside of the city, but the temperature dropped quickly and I’m not geared for zero degrees Fahrenheit. So my six days in gers in Bulgan Province was awesome, but the only trip I could do.
In Mongolia, June through September is the short tourist season, and it’s there for a reason. The guidebooks say you can still go in October, but my opinion is you better be well-outfitted for that – meaning a thick winter coat and a sleeping bag that goes well below zero. I’ll be back one day, when the temperature’s more favorable.
I’ve been back in UB for the last five days, in the blackhole of waiting for the train. (They only run to Beijing on Thursday, Friday, and Sunday, and Sunday’s was full.) I hang out with a Swiss girl who is in the blackhole of waiting for her visa from the Chinese Embassy. We sleep late, practice French, go for coffee a lot, and eat pastries at Cherry Bakery. Well, except for that last one – I don’t do that anymore.
Anyway. Ever onward. And off to China.