Than came the strange and darkened land of China. I hopped on a small plane ride across the water from the city of Seoul to Tianjin, the harbour of China's Beijing.
Because I did not feel inclined to go through the hassle of getting a Chinese visa, I took my chances and went in without one. It was a gamble, but one I felt I was ready to take.
Well, they didn't like that much at the airport, but after hassling them a bit and producing a not so genuine, but credible enough onward ticket, they let me board my plane.
Thus I got to the continent again (south Korea still feeling somewhat like an island, being separated by North Korea from Asia, although it's not really ofcourse.) and entered that strange country of the new red emperor Xi Jinping.
Mandarin? Man I love that language! It's so funky, so strange and groovy and sliding all over the place.
But china was dark. Great empty arrival halls with most doors locked. Such little enthusiastic official workers everywhere, scanning your bags every time you are going in or out of any public building.
The lighting in many placed had been dimmed. Was it to save on power expenses, or because it was broken, or because nobody cared?
That was one of the saddest things there to me, That nobody seemed like they really cared about their lives, about what they were doing.
And there were fences everywhere, just long and high barriers feeling like cattle grids, to keep control of the masses.
So much feeling of desperately trying to keep control of all things. So authoritharian, fashist, agressive. I could just feel the opression every time I had to pass some kind of official checkpoint, how those with power are actively pushing those below them down.
I had been to China before, back in 2010, but do not remember it this way.
The trains were fast, that took me from the coast inland, across the great Yellow River Delta, ever further north and west into the heart of the Gobi dessert. All day and night I traveled, and the next day too, succesfully crossing the Mongolian border without any problems.
I made a cry of happyness as they stamped me out of China. There had been some pretty tense moments, but I once again managed to jump all the 4 hoops.
1. Get on the plane in Seoul Incheon Airport, 2. Get let into China by their Immigration, 3. Get stamped out of China in the Gobi, 4. Make my way into Mongolia.
All the travel in between that was childsplay, it was all the paper stuff that worried me most.
How crazy is that No? Easy to travel 2000 Kilometers across oceans, mountains, jungles and desserts, but to make your way past a bunch of humans with a handfull of cellulose fibers in your hand is the challange? What a world!
I was happy to get out of that police state in disrepair, although I had been looking foreward to get there. Mongilia, is a very different story ofcourse. In the broder town, Zamin Uud, One can just feel the carelessness blowing through the streets. Cracked concrete and dusty roads, I was in the 'third world' once.
The night train sped through the desolate expanse of the Gobi. What emptyness here. One could most likely fit all arable land of Japan in a single hour of train ride in this place, and the ride was 14 hours long. There wan no water ofcourse, although it contraversly rained in the night. And so only few small Yurts (after this called Ger) could occasionally be spoted in the far distance, in this vast arid ocoasn of land. Hardly any real hills there were, but just so much space, dry empty space, and our train that wounds itself across it, untill we came acros the first trees next day, that anounced our proximity to the capital. In less than an hour later we pulled into Ulanbaator Station, and I was unloaded into that ger fringed city on the border of the dessert and the mountains.
8 Years it had been, and now it was time again to spend some time with my Father and his Family, in their cute little wooden house near the center of town.
 |
| Gandan Temple |
Joking and
playing behind their backs during ceremony. Receiving offerings from
lay people and sipping their bowls of milk tea. Such and intricate and
colorful place that is.
 |
| Father and son city gardening time. |
We entousiastically got gardening, eventhough the changing weather up here in central asia frosted most of our precious seedlings one night, with a 26 degree temperature drop from one day to the next from 33 to 7 next day. What an extreme place this truley is!
But by now we've got some pretty healthy looking tomato plants though, and sunflowers, radishes, red flowering beans, nasturtiums and a courgette plants the size of serving bowls growing from the rather haphazerd soil of my father's garden. Why one would try to grow anything is a pure mystery to the majority of the locals here, but is gives us a great sense of joy.
But by now we've got some pretty healthy looking tomato plants though, and sunflowers, radishes, red flowering beans, nasturtiums and a courgette plants the size of serving bowls growing from the rather haphazerd soil of my father's garden. Why one would try to grow anything is a pure mystery to the majority of the locals here, but is gives us a great sense of joy.
Almost a month passed where I lived with this interesting for
eign family and
we were working a lot. Upstairs on the second floor of the house is the
sowing workshop where my father creates amazing impermanent structures
of fabric and wood that inspire people and give them the possibility to
experience something extraordinary, if only for a short moment.
I
got to know his Mongolian workers who diligently sow it all together,
or carve the beams, and so got to have a glimpse into their way of life
and interests.
Froit bought me a sweet
second hand Swiss bicycle even before I arrived in Ulaanbator. Now I
race around town dodging between the ubiquitous Prius's that make up about
a quarter of the cars around here, risking my neck on a minute to
minute basis. But it generates so much exhilaration, and such a surprise
you are to the many commuters that are caught off-guard by your presence.
 |
| Car free Day Bike Demo |
Than after 3 weeks of mostly city life I headed for the country side. Took a bus across the great wasteland, the nothingness of Mongolia between here and the next true mountains. Six hours across a landscape that has hardly any features to describe it. Now desert of most people and animals it once reared, it lays there quenched for rain, it's countenance a repetitive undulation of brownish and faint green shades, with barely any peak or river, and no tree to be seen for hundreds of kilometers. At last we came to the other side and the mountain now rose up ahead of us. I jumped out in Kharakorim and was picked up by a friend of the family who owned a ger camp, as there are so many in Mongolia. A row of these white felted dwellings on the far edge of town, where the streets blend into the steppe.
Staying only a night under this roof so familiar to me, next morning I headed further into the hills along a wide valley, like all valleys are on Mongolia, through which a river picked it's way. Or should I say the river made it's way, and so this valley came into being? Or is it a symbiosis, River and Valley, nut one?
In any case, I got a ride some 50 km. upstream, and was dropped on the other bank by a friendly guy with a very fast Landcruizer, making 90 km an hour even across this potholed dirt road and five of us stuffed into the back seat. Near a nomadic family camp we parted, and I started walking up a smaller vale, brown grass crunching underfeet. Animal bones scattered wherever one may go, small pieces of faded wood or shreds of clothing are most of what one encounters while on foot in this land. Empty hills made way for forests as I walked up and down and than up again. Embalmed by the sudden greenness, between which long grass grew, long and rich. I got to the Monastery of Tovkon Xiid.
Originally started by Zanabazar who lived in the 16th century, and is one of the cultural founding fathers of the modern mongol nation. It sits atop a crown of stone lifted high above the canopy of he surrounding forest, and thus had a commanding view over the endless distance....
As the air is so dry here, one can see, so far. It is hard to perceive, what is real, and what is fantasy.
A group of friendly monks of whom some spoke some English welcomed me in their small abode, this refuge of the world that in the winter is completely closed off from the outside world fore more than 6 months. There were 5 or 6 small but charming wooden temple buildings huddled against the rocks. Two small flats embraced by mountain of which one featured two wells of the delicious and much besought orange water, so rare. What a Mystery, that on top of this boulder-like feature, there is such aqueous plenitude.
I lingered through the afternoon, climbing to the various turrets and knobs some thickly clad in prayer flags an other forms of sacredness, to the top of the tiny man high Naga temple, altar for the natural spirits of the surrounding lands, laden with gifts of barley, rice and tiny bills.
As the monks were constructing a new balustrade on one of the buildings (ever saw a monk wielding a chainsaw, an angle grinder, mixing cement? well now I have, and so) I gave them a hand carrying bags of sand and cement up the narrow stairway climbing the rock from the meadow down below.
Everything there had such a charm, just quite simple, but built with love. And they invited me for dinner and shared their simple vegetarian Mongolian fare with me of noodles and wild mushrooms.
I meditated and felt blissful in that beautiful place. Camping close to the foot of the rock next morning I descended through the luscious forest on a wonderful trail, narrow and crocked and full of surprises. Than coming to lager and larger pastures where a herd of semi wild horsed roamed in the cool dawn air, so free and unhindered. So natural.
Their brown shapes against the backdrop of nature. So proud the trees stood there, their branches high aloft, in this good place, where the grass grew tall.
Further I wandered along a dusty road. When the valley opened up more into a wide flat of grass as short as a golf course's, trampled and manicured, by so many sheep and goat's teeth, who than again turn their bodies into grass when they poo or die, that proof what everywhere.
I was now in a place where many roads run parallel, but I usually chose none, just wandering my own way, taking a mountain on the horizon for guidance, and walking straight at it sometimes for hours, unhindered by anything. No tree or house, car or property boundaries there. Just open space.
 |
| Tsagaan Valley Fortress |
As I was on a quest for water, after a few hours walking through this single valley I came upon a hamlet, mostly abandoned. But, on a slope nearby, as if pondering the emptiness, stood a house, and I could just about make out the Cyrillic word Delguur, which I knew to mean shop.
And they had water for me, and were so estranged to see a foreigner here, alone and on foot, in this country of horse riders.
Next, I came to a hotspring, on an island in the main river. Red was the bottom of the creek, by works of thermophilic bacteria or algae I suppose. This spring, little developed, was just deep enough to squat in, and dipping my bowl I scooped myself with the warm delicacy. As I took off my clothes the heavens rumbled and the clouds chose to bless this parched land with its liquid blessing in the form of large and copious raindrops. And so I sat in a hotspring, while it rained, and blessed my life.
How can I ever forget that everything is exactly as it should be, that its all arranged and perfect, even if I don't see it that way. This first dark band of clouds passed over, and I resumed my march. More waves of grayness were already on the horizon though, but I minded them not. Never before have I been so unconcerned with advancing thunderclouds, knowing that at this air humidity level, i'm already drying as the rain is falling on me, and seeing the sun behind the clouds there is the assurance that I will be totally dried up in no time. So I let the sweet blessing come down upon my crackled skin and heal my inner wounds of living in a country where I often feel that rain is punitive.
Across the great openness I walked towards what looked like a small mountain filled with caves, but getting closer, it turned into a large ancient fortress of rectangular design that must once have had impressive adobe walls and turrets, perhaps back in the Chingis days. It sat right in the middle of the large fertile Tsagaan valley, a home to millions of small grasshoppers that were constantly on the run for my advancing feet. Walking on from that old fortress, now nearly forgotten, after a few more hours I passed one single ger, but seven people living therein. One battered Porter pickup van, one, motorcycle, one solar panel, one satellite dish and two herds, one of sheep and goats, and one of Yak. That was their livelihood, and we greeted in my passing. That night I slept on a pass between two valleys, in my little red and white tent. All night I could hear the stamping of something heavy around my tent. Sometimes fearing the wolf or bear that also dwell in these lands, in the morning I came to realize by the whinnying that it concerned a bunch of wild horses that had been prancing the scene. And sure enough, as I emerged from my dome two motorcycles and one horse rider were herding this group of pony's and one gray spotted hinny down into the valley, whence I must now also go. Descending before breakfast, through the empty green valley. Dark trees on either side, and an occasional eagle overhead. To a massive junction in valleys I came, perhaps 15 kilometer across, with in the center, wow, is that an oasis?!! Trees down in the valley, that is exceptional. Of course I had to go and see, and it turned out to be a yummy area of juicy vegetation straddling a refreshing quick flowing river that beckoned me so to bath that I could but acquit.
Ice cold!! that it was, only allowing for seconds of submersion. But an improved human I emerged.
Crossing all this sudden explosion of life in the soft river land, reminding me much of my home lands, there was a sharp edge, and than I was once more trodding the dry stubble and coarse gravel of Mongolia, onward to my destiny.
Up, down, up and down, it was hot and it was beautiful, gorgeous in its emptiness, its barren nature, and its serenity. Coming past yet another blue kata (prayer shawl) adorned ovoo at a pass, I than descended for the last time with tall pines that mildly aromatized the air with their mysterious scent on either side until I emerged unto the flat bottom of the valley.
Now my goal was not far off. I had a date to meet up with the other members of my Mongolian family at this Tsenkher hotspring place, and been walking fast the last few hours in the knowing that they were on the road and not far off.
I got there soon enough, but the difficulty of their road was underestimated. So I had ample time for the next three hours to stretch, admire the cows and the clouds, and await their coming.
When they did arrive we quickly made camp with their bus and cars and one of Froit's red bell tents, and slept with a full belly.
Than it was hotspring time. What can I say, family times. My stepsister Ochko's 4 years old daughter Margat was also there, and she got to have her first swimming experience. Needless to say that was a lot of fun. She is generally adorable, and we had a great time even though the rain returned that afternoon, and now for good. How lucky we felt that we had a nice heated ger to ourselves in a ger camp for this night, where we slept in real beds with sheets.
Of course the rain had made chocolate mousse of all the connecting dirt roads so getting out of that place, we knew beforehand, was gonna be a challenge. Even though some Mongolian drivers had assured us that the road was "Perfect", our city accustomed Benz bus and Prius car got stuck pretty bad a few times, oh yeah and that was after the whole bus didn't even want to move from it's spot in the first place. All in all it was an adventure, but one well concluded, and so we warmly welcomed the warm welcome of a friend about half way home who let us stay in some of their gers near some sand dunes. Camels they had too, and strange beasts they are. So alien their grunting, their funny shapeless noses, particularly when they run and let flop! How beautiful the furry young, already with huge bulging eyes, and some perky bumps of their own.
Playing in the sand when the wind died down, drinking airakh (fermented horse milk) in the early morning. Seeing the flocks of sheep divided by the herders in the pink dawn light. Talking to the spotted eagle held captive on a branch nearby, who gifted me some of his feathers. Teaching Margat the child to write a two wheeled bicycle, and than piling in the bus once more for the final ride towards home. From the nothingness back into that one and only city in the country of nomads. Back to the safety of our land worthy vessel, of the house, on Gandan hill.
This is my story, of the days in Mongolia. And connected also in kind to how this last journey of two years got started.
Two years ago, also around my birthday I set of once more for the open road. That deep desire to experience more, to live the nomadic life in the great round world, and to be externally free.
to Boom I went, and from there ever further west. Like now west I go, and Boom again gravitates me. Yet such a changed being I feel. So much more experience, so many memories, images, things I learned. So many new friends and places where I've augmented my heart.
Let's see where the journey leads next. Let it be a surprise, again every day.
That is what I pray, for me, and for You.
Next, I came to a hotspring, on an island in the main river. Red was the bottom of the creek, by works of thermophilic bacteria or algae I suppose. This spring, little developed, was just deep enough to squat in, and dipping my bowl I scooped myself with the warm delicacy. As I took off my clothes the heavens rumbled and the clouds chose to bless this parched land with its liquid blessing in the form of large and copious raindrops. And so I sat in a hotspring, while it rained, and blessed my life.
How can I ever forget that everything is exactly as it should be, that its all arranged and perfect, even if I don't see it that way. This first dark band of clouds passed over, and I resumed my march. More waves of grayness were already on the horizon though, but I minded them not. Never before have I been so unconcerned with advancing thunderclouds, knowing that at this air humidity level, i'm already drying as the rain is falling on me, and seeing the sun behind the clouds there is the assurance that I will be totally dried up in no time. So I let the sweet blessing come down upon my crackled skin and heal my inner wounds of living in a country where I often feel that rain is punitive.
Across the great openness I walked towards what looked like a small mountain filled with caves, but getting closer, it turned into a large ancient fortress of rectangular design that must once have had impressive adobe walls and turrets, perhaps back in the Chingis days. It sat right in the middle of the large fertile Tsagaan valley, a home to millions of small grasshoppers that were constantly on the run for my advancing feet. Walking on from that old fortress, now nearly forgotten, after a few more hours I passed one single ger, but seven people living therein. One battered Porter pickup van, one, motorcycle, one solar panel, one satellite dish and two herds, one of sheep and goats, and one of Yak. That was their livelihood, and we greeted in my passing. That night I slept on a pass between two valleys, in my little red and white tent. All night I could hear the stamping of something heavy around my tent. Sometimes fearing the wolf or bear that also dwell in these lands, in the morning I came to realize by the whinnying that it concerned a bunch of wild horses that had been prancing the scene. And sure enough, as I emerged from my dome two motorcycles and one horse rider were herding this group of pony's and one gray spotted hinny down into the valley, whence I must now also go. Descending before breakfast, through the empty green valley. Dark trees on either side, and an occasional eagle overhead. To a massive junction in valleys I came, perhaps 15 kilometer across, with in the center, wow, is that an oasis?!! Trees down in the valley, that is exceptional. Of course I had to go and see, and it turned out to be a yummy area of juicy vegetation straddling a refreshing quick flowing river that beckoned me so to bath that I could but acquit.Ice cold!! that it was, only allowing for seconds of submersion. But an improved human I emerged.
Crossing all this sudden explosion of life in the soft river land, reminding me much of my home lands, there was a sharp edge, and than I was once more trodding the dry stubble and coarse gravel of Mongolia, onward to my destiny.
Up, down, up and down, it was hot and it was beautiful, gorgeous in its emptiness, its barren nature, and its serenity. Coming past yet another blue kata (prayer shawl) adorned ovoo at a pass, I than descended for the last time with tall pines that mildly aromatized the air with their mysterious scent on either side until I emerged unto the flat bottom of the valley.
I got there soon enough, but the difficulty of their road was underestimated. So I had ample time for the next three hours to stretch, admire the cows and the clouds, and await their coming.
When they did arrive we quickly made camp with their bus and cars and one of Froit's red bell tents, and slept with a full belly.
Than it was hotspring time. What can I say, family times. My stepsister Ochko's 4 years old daughter Margat was also there, and she got to have her first swimming experience. Needless to say that was a lot of fun. She is generally adorable, and we had a great time even though the rain returned that afternoon, and now for good. How lucky we felt that we had a nice heated ger to ourselves in a ger camp for this night, where we slept in real beds with sheets.
Of course the rain had made chocolate mousse of all the connecting dirt roads so getting out of that place, we knew beforehand, was gonna be a challenge. Even though some Mongolian drivers had assured us that the road was "Perfect", our city accustomed Benz bus and Prius car got stuck pretty bad a few times, oh yeah and that was after the whole bus didn't even want to move from it's spot in the first place. All in all it was an adventure, but one well concluded, and so we warmly welcomed the warm welcome of a friend about half way home who let us stay in some of their gers near some sand dunes. Camels they had too, and strange beasts they are. So alien their grunting, their funny shapeless noses, particularly when they run and let flop! How beautiful the furry young, already with huge bulging eyes, and some perky bumps of their own.
Playing in the sand when the wind died down, drinking airakh (fermented horse milk) in the early morning. Seeing the flocks of sheep divided by the herders in the pink dawn light. Talking to the spotted eagle held captive on a branch nearby, who gifted me some of his feathers. Teaching Margat the child to write a two wheeled bicycle, and than piling in the bus once more for the final ride towards home. From the nothingness back into that one and only city in the country of nomads. Back to the safety of our land worthy vessel, of the house, on Gandan hill.This is my story, of the days in Mongolia. And connected also in kind to how this last journey of two years got started.
Two years ago, also around my birthday I set of once more for the open road. That deep desire to experience more, to live the nomadic life in the great round world, and to be externally free.
to Boom I went, and from there ever further west. Like now west I go, and Boom again gravitates me. Yet such a changed being I feel. So much more experience, so many memories, images, things I learned. So many new friends and places where I've augmented my heart.
Let's see where the journey leads next. Let it be a surprise, again every day.
That is what I pray, for me, and for You.
For more Imagery of this etappe of the journey you may be guided to
https://photos.app.goo.gl/Yd9GPxZ4si3G3NLH6
