Oh Hell, Let's get to Helsinki

The original plan, if that's what we can still call it, had us arriving in the lovely city of Helsinki on a ferry from St Petersburg.  In "So, We're Not Going to Russia",  you'll remember that we decided against the bureaucratic nightmare we would need to undertake to get Russian visas.

Instead, we arrived in the mid-afternoon after a ridiculously early trip to the Ulaanbataar airport.  Flying rather ironically through Moscow and eating at an American BBQ restaurant while there, we easily found our hostel "Cheap Sleep".  A nice place for sure, but certainly not cheap.  Particularly when you have just come from Asia!

When we left for our Mongolian roadtrip, we weren't entirely certain whether Dad would be joining us in Finland or not.  We left him our (really rather vague) itinerary and found out part way along the road that he had booked accommodation to align with us!  That first afternoon, we had a quick break and then showed up at his hotel.

Truth be told, it had not been long since we had seen a friendly family face, with Sarah joining us in Beijing in May, and Ann in Ho Chi Minh City in March, but it's really a delight that we've been ale to do it so often on this trip!  The old man was fresh off a plane himself, and catching up over a pizza, we made (still vaguer) plans for a time to meet in the afternoon the next day at the Tourist Information spot, allowing us the morning to find a laundromat and get ourselves together.

Just walking around

We made quite a spectacle trying to find that laundry, I can tell you.  Wandering around the neighbourhood with laundry bags, trying to be polite "I'm very sorry, I don't speak Finnish, do you speak English?" and them responding with English better than you will get at home.

We met up with Dad again, poking our noses in churches (it had been a long time since we had been very close to one), exploring the harbour-side markets, snacking on reindeer burgers (one week patting and cuddling them, the next week eating them on the other side of the North Pole) and making plans for a visit to Suomenlinna Fort.

Cute, furry & yummy!

None of us were very clear on Finnish modern history, and we sure got a nice big dose of it at Suomenlinna fortress. Originally built when Finland was part of Sweden, its strategic value was significant when Finland became part of Russia in the 1800's (not as a part of the Soviet Union as I had mistakenly believed).  In fact, Finland gained its independence from Russia while the Russian were busy with their own revolution in 1917.  Now part-town, part museum, Suomenlinna has a lot to offer lost Australian tourists.  Lashing winds, cold rain, warm coffees, detailed museums, dark and scary ammunition bunkers, locked up gaols and the last Finnish submarine.

Suomenlinna Fortress

When we weren't dragging him walking all over the city, we enjoyed coffee, beer, food and stories with Dad at strategic cafe stops, it was pretty good to have a doting parent around!  

A warm cup of decadence

After our side trip to Tallinn in Estonia and Turku in west Finland, which Kat will write about soon, we returned to Helsinki without Dad.  We continued the couch-surfing journey with Tarmo, a one-man poster-child for couch-surfing.  Our first night, with Kat so knackered she fell asleep on the couch before it transformed into a bed (Kat edit: it was 11pm, not my fault the sun doesn't go to bed when I do), Tarmo and I spent the evening walking in the woods behind his flat; as he says "in Finland, you are never far from the woods".  Walking with him was both relaxing (because of the walking) and invigorating - he listens to podcasts at double-speed so that he can learn more, he grew up in reindeer country but is now an independent-grocery shopping vegan working in IT. Later we also heard about how he has slept under a bridge in Japan because of a couch-surfing experience that didn't quite work out and is trying to downsize his already one room apartment so he can save money to ride across Russia in a few years time - ON A BICYCLE.  The man is a dynamo, and he whipped up a great tasting soup for us from basically nothing.  We loved our stay at his place, I hope he can visit us in Australia some time.

A street art programme comparing Chinese... 

...and Finnish architecture

July is also the time for this little couple to celebrate their anniversary; which we did with a visit to the trampoline gym, nice long walk along the coast and a relaxing dinner for two.

Good weather days in Helsinki - you couldn't walk past a man without him taking his shirt off

Going around the sentries at Suomenlinna fortress

Mongolian Tour: Horses and Reindeer (Travel Dream!)

While I can recognise a Shetland pony, I don't really know the difference between a horse and a pony.  Some people seem to refer to them interchangeably, so I am forever confused.  Such as it was, when writing out my travel dreams, one of them was to ride a Mongolian pony in the desert.

Before arriving in Mongolia, and for a long time after, I knew very little about the place (which is absurd, because I applied for an AYAD volunteer position based in Ulaanbataar in 2008, but I instead went to Nepal). What I did know is that they were horse people.  Love horses, just love them.  Horse carvings, horses painted on the sides of trains, horse souvenirs, horses where you find bicycles in every other country - hell, the national drink appears to be fermented mare's milk!  Horses were something we saw just about everywhere we traveled in the country, and why we wanted to make it a part of our tour.

After leaving the yak herders and beautiful Terkhiin Tsagaan, we moved again into more barren terrain, to the home of a collection of gers all devoted to strengthening, breeding and training beautiful horses.  Mongolian horses have somewhat of a wild streak to them (much like the people) and probably all horses do, but there's something in their eyes here that makes you realise you are not dealing with a household pet.  We were to spend 3 days with these beautiful creatures, as we climbed to the mountains in search of not only reindeer, but a family of the Tsaatan people who herd and breed them.  I'm actually not exaggerating about "searching" for them, because we literally did not know where they would be.

We learned earlier on the trip that Mongolians do not name their horses;  we found this out because we asked what Bataar called his car, and the answer from Bimba was "he doesn't call it anything, just like Mongolians, we don't name our horses".

"Not even your favourite?" someone ventured.

"No".

"What about one you receive as a gift?"

"No.. and those are even more special, we don't even ride them...that's the crazy", she says.  More on "that's the crazy" later.

Day 1 - Meeting the people

The afternoon of our first day here was remarkable.  While Bimba prepared an evening meal for us, we were treated to a veritable show.  The whole neighborhood (at least from gers within riding distance) had gathered outside Nara's family's home (Nara was our horse guide).  Partly they had come because tourists had arrived and they wanted to get a good look at us, and partly because they were here to see the breaking in of a horse.

Matcha (our apprentice horse guide) had the unenviable job of saddling the unhappy star attraction while the old sages looked on.  Young and old, women and men, toddlers and teenagers, all squatted within a safe distance, only occasionally mumbling a joke or piece of advice.  

Lesson time

The show only really began once the saddle was on, because another man climbed aboard and the horse fairly lost his temper and he raced off bucking and kicking to the horizon and we never saw the rider again.  

And we never saw him again

Strangely enough though, the horse was back the next day - Matcha had the job of riding it along with escorting the horse carrying all our gear!  Man, it gave him a rough time.

Following the show, the group broke up and went their separate ways, the highlight was a 3 or 4 year old, standing on the back of Dad's bike!

Show's over, heading home with Dad

Day 2 - Riding

My nameless dun-coloured horse, poor fella, as I am sure I was much too big for him, measured up to my expectations of an almost wild animal.  He was not interested in pats, "good boy" comments or sugar cubes, or stopping when told to.  He really wanted to go where we were going and then get back home.  

Rob's horse had a chunk bitten from his hindquarters

Kat had a chestnut horse which almost earned a nickname (until we remembered that we shouldn't) of "Bitey" due to his tendency to try to eat the other horse's butts. Strangely Kat's camel from the sand dune expedition shared this same tendency! Kat's horse was otherwise fairly cooperative, usually stopping on request and pretty happy to be alive. He did require a firm grip and Kat certainly found him more fun to ride than any other horse she has even met!  

Kat striking a Mongolian marauder pose

Our first day was spent walking steadily upwards towards a glacier near the Russian border (I was never able to find out the name), the vicinity of which we expected to find the Tsaatan family - for they were somewhere non-specific, in-between their winter and summer camps.  Through open plains, windy hills, boggy marshes, lush green forests and pine-clad ridges we meandered, getting to know our horses (but not our guides who were almost basically silent).  Bimba was (what appeared to me) an expert on the back of a horse and I think she loves it any time one of her groups goes on a riding expedition.  

Kat & Bimba, the horse-whisperer

Two dogs followed us all the way, and it took me almost the entire day to realise that they belonged to our guide Nara and weren't strays from a nearby ger-camp. They had a marvelous time finding their own way through the streams we crossed, digging out mouse and prairie dog holes and at one point terrifying my horse so much that it bolted (which is the part that terrified me).  Before long we were back under control and I was still in the saddle, but my heart rate was certainly right up!

Kat taking a sneaky break with Bitey

In the evening, we found the family, camped out in a clearing of a pine tree wood, not far from a thrashing stream.  After the initial introductions they rather kept to themselves, except for helping us set up our own yhurt, complete with semi-permanent (as permanent as anything is in a nomadic society) stove/fireplace and introduced us to their magnificent herd of reindeer.

How to build a yhurt 101

The big buck, recognisable from his ridiculously humongous antlers fed alongside the 30-strong herd of varying ages.  

Big man reindeer

You could easily touch and feel their fur (not the antlers!) as they were very docile.  Before we knew it, the reindeer were herded in for the night. I couldn't tell whether the baby human* or the reindeer were more adorable!  

*Child might be cuter than a reindeer (look at those cheeks)

They were all tied overnight, so they did not wander too far from where the family were staying.  I think this was mainly because in-between camps they had no pen in which to house them, and they needed the mothers close by for milking in the morning.

Mama reindeer settling in for the night

Day 3 - More riding and the glacier

A much slower and easier day, where we started to understand our horses a little better; we spent a few hours climbing the hill above our camp guided by the dogs to have a glorious view of the glacier.

Off to the glacier

Matcha, Sarah, Kat, Tasha & puppy-dog winding up the hill

We had a snow fight and just sat quietly, as far from anywhere as we have been on our entire world journey, soaking up the sound of the wind and the impermanence of our existence.

Even dogs like contemplating their existence

Day 4 - Homeward Bound

Our horses seemed to know the route pretty well.  So they knew that this day was time to go home.  With most of the route downhill, it was all I could do to keep my horse from galloping all the way!  Back through the same marshes and slopes, any time there was an open space he tried to go for it.  Eventually we all had confidence enough that we let them go and BOY what a feeling!  When the ger was in sight, I just needed to slacken the reins one little bit and he would go.  I probably looked like a lame little Lost Boy, but I felt like the Man From Snowy River.

Our crew: Tasha with Nara, his wife and son, Batar, Sarah, Kat and Rob
The best way to get the smile off a Mongolian's face is to pull out your camera!

Part II - The Execution - Entering Mongolia

The Execution

Of course, there are plans, and then there is what happened.  Here's how we did the trip the "fun" way.

In the end, while the experience was challenging, we did it our own way.  We made it with a sense of achievement, great memories, and having met good people (one of whom I almost poisoned with some disgusting Chinese rice wine) and for a significantly lower cost than buying direct train tickets through CITS. 

The Bus Station - Muxiyuan

Starting by getting lost lost on the way to Muxiyuan Long Distance Bus Station in Beijing, we engaged help of a lady out shopping and a street cleaner who entered into a 5-10 minute debate on which way is the fastest way to the bus terminal.

The Bus

Due to the fact you cannot book the bus and they don't formally sell tickets for this trip from the actual ticket windows at Muxiyuan, we wandered about the back bus park trying to find a red bus and match up the characters on the business card we picked up from 365 Inn.  

Upon finding the bus a dramatic scene ensued where for about 5 minutes, I was trying to speak basic levels of incomprehensible Mandarin to the driver until I realised that he was a Mongolian at which point in time I switched to Mongolian which was so bad he got a passenger to start talking to me in Mon-glish.  With many hand gestures, shouts and good natured laughs we discovered that the bus was full.

With hands up in an "I surrender" gesture, the driver told us to wait; what for we had no idea, but wait we did.  Within 10 minutes, a new Mongolian man arrived and escorted us to strange new bus park hidden behind a warehouse, as we wondered the whole time, "should we be doing this?", we desperately tried to track our location using the GPS in Kat's iPhone.

Despite the new Mongolian man assuring us that the bus would go to Zamin-Uud, we learned from the new driver that the bus was not going to Zamin-Uud but to Erlian.  Upon receiving multiple assurances via hand gesture that we would truly be able to get to Zamin-Uud one way or another, we bought tickets to Erlian (for a little cheaper than we had expected for Zamin-Uud).

Told that the bus was leaving at 4.30pm, we grabbed lunch and patiently waited.  At about 5pm, it became apparent that the passengers were not the most important cargo but instead the black plastic bags with duct tape were; and boy is duct tape a hot commodity.  Not only can it be used for taping things up, but for security, patching holes and for making handles!

Comfy bus cots (assuming you are no taller than 5 feet)

Settling in for a long night on the bus

At 6pm, the packing continued, and in such a way as to make any holiday maker cringe.  We never got to the bottom of why it took them so long but it seemed to have something to do with the guy doing the packing waiting for instructions, and the guy giving the instructions not knowing that was his role.  By 6.30pm we were definitely on our way (to a traffic jam). A plus was driving right past different sections of the Great Wall as the sun went down. It isn't every day that you get a surprise Great Wall at sunset moment!

Never far from a misunderstanding, our dinner consisted of a hot chocolate (and not the expected instant noodles!) and some sugary buns.

When noodles become hot chocolate!

At 3.30am, I woke up to discover that the bus is parked on the side of the highway and the driver was asleep in one of the cots!  With no one else surprised or seemingly disturbed, I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Kat later confirmed that the bus had been parked since around 1am. At 6.30 we pushed on for arrival at Erlian by 7am. Determined not to be influenced by touts, and yet quickly realising that's the only choice we had to get anywhere, we accepted the services of a man who would take us to Zamin-Uud.  At 7.10am we arrived at his hotel where we would "rest" until 10am when the jeep would come to take us over the border.  Haha, for a small 10 yuan, we didn't complain as it presented the opportunity to have a shower and a coffee.

The Jeep

On the jeep journey to Zamin-Uud, we again realised that we were not the most important cargo, with the team taking at least an hour to pack more black plastic bags secured with duct tape into the ancient Russian jeep.  "Stacking" four passengers into a space for one brought its own laughs, and we came to know some new travel companions, Ocka and her brother Perov, Mongolians who had been holidaying in China.

Passing through some Chinese armed guard checkpoints, we were instructed to get out and walk through Chinese border control.  The driver kept our bags and promised (I suppose) to meet us on the other side.  Luckily we had Ocka to help as she spoke English pretty well.

Now was time for the old switcheroo.  In order to avoid paying for an additional visa, I was leaving China on my Australian passport but entering Mongolia on my British one (there's a HUGE list of nationalities from which Mongolia does not require a visa until 1 Jan 2016, Australian is not one of them).  I had been quite nervous about the switch, but there was no reason to be, there's a big space between China and Mongolia, and the Mongolian border official took no time at all and didn't even blink at the fact my British passport had zero stamps in it.

BIG TIP!  If you are doing this trip, the driver takes much longer at Mongolian border control than China, there's a cafe/lounge area upstairs where you can buy lunch, snacks and drinks and go to the toilet - you would never know because it is not signposted.  We spent a half an hour here sharing some food and a coffee with Ocka and Perov, and learned a little more about them.

With a bit more shoving and pushing amongst the black plastic bags, we were dropped nearby the Zamin-Uud train station.  This wikiTravel post gives good instructions on where to go to buy train tickets.  We bought ourselves tickets in the same berth/cabin/koupe as Ocka and Perov and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon doing some grocery shopping and picking up a SIM card, until train departure time. 

The Train

All aboard!

Inside the train - hard sleeper car

Our hard sleeper berth was tight but not uncomfortable and you could securely store bags underneath the bottom bunk (someone would have to lift you off it to get at them!) with space above for less valuable things.  Ocka was fairly quickly asleep, but we took the opportunity to take in the VERY late sunset while Perov played cards with the boys in the berth adjacent.

Settling in for a(nother) long journey

Our stewardesses, in two minds about being photographed

Wood powered boiling water

Perov, Ocka and Kat in our shared "hard sleeper"

Just after I had rocked off to sleep amidst the clackity-clack, I was woken to insistent tapping on my hip.  All I could think was "it's finally happened!  I'm being mugged!", I turned to see Perov's smiling face.  With a tray in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other he said "HORSE!" and rubbed his belly.  He had bought some horse-meat with potato and 3 slices of carrot at the last stop and wanted to share it with me. Perov and I shared in a midnight indulgence of horse-meat washed down with vodka ("makes inside good," Perov says).

HORSE!
Rob and Perov enjoying a moment

The views we enjoyed in the morning were amazing, and I don't think we could have enjoyed the trip any more had we taken the train all the way from Beijing.  It was a really enjoyable (although slightly hair-raising) way of making the journey! This was our very own brand of Trans-Mongolian! 

Our first Bactrian camel

Sunset from the train

Travel dream uniquely realised!