Adventures with Julia

July 3, 2010
Ulaanbataar, Mongolia

Sixteen hours after leaving San Francisco, we landed in Ulaanbataar, the capital city of Mongolia, on July 1. The two legs on Korean Air had provided us with one of our most pleasant flight experiences. On both legs we received excellent service and good food from young, smiling flight attendants. There were no mishaps, rough weather or long layovers.  For once our bags were the first ones on the carousel. Then we walked out of the airport into the evening to quiet, peaceful dimness.  No big city lights.  No under current din as in most cities.  The air was fresh and sweet. As we welcomed each other to Mongolia, we both smiled and knew we liked the place already.

Our two guides, one local and one American, accompanied us into town and checked us into the modernistic looking Chenghis Khan Hotel. Mark called it is a 2 ½ star place and complained that the AC did not work very well.  I said it is nice and clean, has a really good bed with nice sheets, plenty of hot running water, good lighting and we have a nice view of the city from our 8th floor room.

As we arrived a day ahead of the group, we had the first day to do what we wanted. Armed with a city map and some tips from our guides we walked around the center of the city checking out the local folk (fairly Asian with nearly olive looking skin), their style of dress (very contemporary with the young women in really short shorts and skirts), art galleries (saw a couple of interesting things, but did not buy anything—yet), shopping malls and the main government department store (bought a Mongolian flag to go with the rest of our collection), a cashmere store (couldn’t resist buying several sweaters at very reasonable prices) and had a delicious salad in an Italian restaurant. We visited Subbaatar square, which was built in the Soviet era and had sported a statue of Stalin, but now contains a huge sculpture of Chenghis Khan sitting and flanked by his son Ogedei and grandson Kublai Khan and two 13th century warriors clad in full armor. It reminded me a bit of our Lincoln Memorial. Even though the country was dominated by the Soviets for 70 years, the people chose freedom, democracy and a multiparty system almost immediately after the Soviets departed in 1990. We find ourselves feeling very comfortable here. The many Soviet style buildings are gradually being replaced or re-fronted as with the Khan monument in the square. There are only a few steel and glass buildings, such as our hotel and an interesting looking office building called the Blue Sky or pregnant lady building, which has not been completed or occupied due to engineering problems even though it has looked finished for a couple of years. I would sure hate to be its owner or developer. Although Mongolia is a poor country, the people seem purposeful and engaged. We have encountered only 2 boys begging and they didn’t look the slightest bit hungry.

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a small, but very interesting Buddhist temple called Choiijin Lama Temple Museum. Built in 1904-08, it is a classic example of Buddhist architecture. There were several buildings packed with a variety of Buddha statues, tsam (ceremonial dance) masks, tangkas, embroideries, sculptures and ancient texts. The place, although obviously very special, was dark, very dusty and hard for us non-Buddhists, to understand.

Back at the hotel about 4pm we crashed. Got up for a bite to eat at 8pm and went back to bed.

Next day, Saturday, July 3, we met our guides and the rest of the group at 8:30 for introductions and a brief discussion about our program and logistics. There are only eight of us including a couple, Susan and John, from Ventura, a retired doctor, Paul, from Manhasset Hills, NY, a retired lady, Lucy, from St Louis, MO, our two guides, Steve and Belguu, and Mark and me. Off we went to visit the only monastery that survived the Soviet era, the Gandantegchenling, or Gandan Monastery for short. It is in the outskirts of Ulaanbataar in 1838. In 1938, the Soviets destroyed about 900 monasteries and killed thousands of monks. Five temples in this monastery were destroyed and the rest turned into accommodations for Russian officers or used as barns for their horses. 1n 1944 Gandan was reopened as Monastery, but the socialist government kept it under strict control. Finally, in 1990, after the Democratic Revolution, Buddhism began to flourish again and Gandan Monastery began an ambitious restoration program. Currently there are about 1000 monks at Gandan and many more in other temples being rebuilt throughout the country. Most temples we have visited have been very old and very dirty places, including most of the temples at Gandan. However, we were allowed into a brand new, large temple where students were studying and everything was spit and polish. Even the deities were shiny and clothed in fresh robes. The experience was very different and pleasing. More than anything about the whole complex was the large number of worshippers of all ages, not just the very old, bringing their petitions to the monks, lighting butter candles, praying and enjoying being on the grounds. We saw whole families praying together and one newly married couple in wedding costumes celebrating with their family. Our usual experience in Buddhist temples is very quiet with few people around and often not many monks either.

Then we drove up to a Soviet memorial on a hill top to get a good view of the city. We enjoyed a pleasant day with blue skies, a nice breeze and not too much heat. Then to lunch in a typical tourist restaurant that serves groups. We were served a “typical” Mongolian meal of mutton, cabbage, beef soup, deep fried dumplings filled with meat or cabbage and fried bread. Sure hope we don’t get many more such meals. Anyway, we knew in advance that we were not coming here for the food. Still, I am hoping not to get clogged arteries from it.

In the afternoon we went to the Natural Museum, which is supposed to be special for its Dinosaur skeletons. Apparently there were more dinosaurs in Mongolia than any other place on earth. We saw a complete skeleton of a Tarbosaurus, which was discovered in 1948. That and parts of other dinosaur skeletons were interesting to see. Unfortunately, the soviet-era building is decrepit and the exhibits are tired and dusty. Many stuffed animals were in terrible condition. We could not get through the place fast enough.

Back at the hotel we repacked for our early morning flight to Lake Hovsgol in the north western part of the country. We have to leave a lot of things behind as we are allowed very little weight. No problem as we come back to the same hotel in a few days. After a rest we joined the group for dinner in another tourist dinner. We were very pleasantly surprised by the 4-man group of throat singer musicians who performed for us. They were fantastic and impossible to explain. They could make 2-3 sounds at one time with their throats. I was loving listening to them and wondering how I would tell people about them, when Mark reminded me that our camera also does videos, so I recorded their sound along with their images. Hope it turns out. I had trouble holding the camera steady.

Now to bed with a 3:45am wake up just ahead.
Sweet and fast dreams, Julia

July 4, 2010

Alagtsar Camp, Lake Hovsgol, Northern Mongolia

Happy Fourth of July.  It is just another day here and we are missing the fireworks and Sousa marches.  However, Mongolia’s National Holiday is July 11, so we will experience their celebrations then.

I am sitting on the threshold of our ger (the Mongolian term for yert) near the shore of Lake Hovsgol in northwestern Mongolia very close to the Russian boarder and Lake Baikal.  There is a roaring fire in the stove inside and we cannot stand to be in it for all the heat even though it is very cool outdoors.   We watch the sun slowly set at 9:40pm, while we leave the door open to let some heat out.  It has been a long day.  We were up at 3:30am to catch a 6:30 flight to a town called Moran.  We left the airport at 8am for a drive that lasted until 1:30pm and covered only 110km.  Multiple dirt tracks run parallel for a ways, then cross each other again and again, much like a river delta.  Our driver kept changing tracks and sometimes it felt like he intentionally chose the roughest path.  The few times he stopped we all uncurled slowly to get out and stretch.   The scenery made up for the bad roads.  Called steppe, it is vast, green, covered with wild flowers and crystal blue sky.  Gentle rolling hills gradually gave way to larger hills and intermittent conifer trees.   Early on we diverted a few miles to a wide open valley where we stopped to study the “deer stones”, which are slabs of stone 4-5 inches thick, 1 to 3 feet wide and 4 to 10 feet tall that have ancient carvings on all four sides that resemble deer bodies with and bird heads.  They are Bronze Age carvings that have been standing at least 3000 years old and are found in northern and western Mongolia and nearby areas of Russia and China.  The collection we visited was the largest in one place and well worth the effort.  They were very interesting to see and photograph especially as they were in a spectacular setting.  Under each stone is a wrapped bundle containing a horse head, neck bones and hooves.  Both the stone and the horse head face east.  Each one is unique and it is believed that they represented individual warriors and encapsulate Bronze Age cosmology.

To pass the time as we bumped our way north to the lake we chatted about local politics with our Mongolian guide, Bulgaa.  By March 1990 the communist politburo resigned and major reforms were implemented and Mongolia’s first free elections were held in July.  The Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party (MPRP), which was the former Russian communist party, won a majority but agreed to share both the presidency and the government leadership with the opposition.  A new constitution was drafted and Mongolia became a parliamentary democracy with an elected President, guarantees of individual and property rights and freedoms, separation of powers and a single 76-seat national assembly elected every four years.  For most of the time since, the MPRP has been in control due to the strong, but aging, rural base.  In 2007 there was a major uprising in the square in UB and 5 people were killed.  The president has never apologized for the killings and many people, including Bulgaa, are still angry.  The next election could result in some changes.  She thinks the opposition, Democratic Party, has its share of the blame and that neither party deserves to win.  She is part of a growing independent movement.

During the last third of the way we were in Hovsgol National Park and our trip became a mini game drive as we came across a pair of displaying Demoiselle cranes, several marmots and squirls, a gorgeous eagle up close that none of us could identify, a couple of fish eagles, a huge vulture and some yaks.  At last the lake and our camp came into sight.  We arrived about 1:30 and were very happy to get out of the vehicle.  Lunch was waiting and then we all crashed for the afternoon, during which we had lots of lightning, thunder and rain.  Around 4pm the sky cleared and we went for a walk around the camp.  It is set in a lovely wild flower filled meadow on the edge of the lake and next to a larch forest.  The lake at 5,379 feet elevation is very cold and clear and contains 65% of all fresh water in Mongolia (1-2% of the world’s supply).   The forest is also pretty to look at and walk about.  The trees are the only deciduous pine trees in the world and range above 50 degrees lateral, which is where we are.

Dinner was a simple salad and soup, just the perfect amount of food.  Even after a good nap we were all ready for a good night’s sleep.   The evening air was pretty chilly, but our ger was boiling inside with the fire that had been set in the wood stove.  We had to leave the door open for some time before we could stand to be inside.   I tried to write a bit, but kept making zzzzzzzzzzzzz so I closed the computer and took a sleeping pill for insurance.  It worked.  I got up only once.  When I stepped outside the ger I was confronted by several yaks munching away on the grass next to our door.  They were quite calm and relaxed so I did my business and went back to bed and instant sleep.

July 5, 2010

At last we had all had a good night’s sleep and were most ready for a boat ride through the fog to another part of the lake to visit the Reindeer People in their summer camp.  What a treat.  There were even a few small reindeer to photograph and touch as well as a whole family who were most welcoming.  We spent a couple of hours inside their teepee visiting and drinking yak butter tea.  They have a hard life, but don’t want to give it up.  Their population contains about 60 families and 1000 reindeer.  Their numbers are growing slowly as they have better health care and education via the Mongolian government, but they need outside people to improve the gene pool and help with the large number of animals.  Anyone want to marry into the clan and manage reindeer?   I bought a pipe, some Russian tobacco, a tobacco pouch and a carved reindeer antler.  Am sure you will all want to see my treasures.

The lake is calm as glass as the fog lifts.  We all wave goodbye to the reindeer people and motor back to camp.  Our heads are still full of thought about these gentle, sweet people.

But, on to the next event—horseback riding on the steppe.   We all received small Mongolian horses, except Mark, who was assigned a slightly bigger animal that proceeded to kick him, causing a couple of scratches and a bruise.  Still game, Mark got on the animal, but the head wrangler insisted on holding the lead to it because “he did not trust the horse” he said.  Mark would have none of that so he dismounted and walked away.  I don’t think he was very unhappy about missing out on the ride.

It was a lovely ride, walking and posting along through the wild flowers on the vast rolling landscape.  We were not required to ride single file and could move at our own pace and on our own path.  I loved it.  It turns out the word “steppe” means any area covered in grass and has nothing to do with the shape of the terrain.  Most of Mongolia is “steppe”.   The forests grow on the sunny northern slopes of hills and afford protection for the winter camps of the nomads.  We passed a couple of such camps on the ride.  There were wooden corrals with partial roofs for the animals and huge piles of dried dung nearby for winter fires.  Ger are moved from camp to camp with the nomads, which are currently in their summer camps that are out in the open where the grass is most plentiful.   There are numerous wild flowers that I have never seen before and beautiful vistas at every step.  Back at our camp I found Mark enjoying a book and watching a new ger for tourists being erected by the camp staff.  It normally takes two experienced people about two hours to erect a ger.  This one was being newly built from a kit and needed a lot of extra work to complete.  The camp staff spent most of the day completing it and Mark photographed the process.

Lunch and some needed quiet time were followed by a short drive to visit a yak herder’s summer camp.  A permanent, roughly built, 2 room wooden house filled with a very large family and corrals filled with yaks, cows and yak-cow hybrids greeted us on arrival.   Lake fish were hanging out to dry on lines attached to the house.   Three solar panels and a satellite disk occupied the front yard.    We soon learned that the grandchildren do the fishing and the solar system supplies power for a color TV and four old black and white TV’s, which still occupy space in the living/sleeping room.  The other room was the kitchen/eating room.   The family consisted of a hard-working and weathered, middle aged couple, their 8 children and spouses and 20 grandchildren.   Fortunately some of the children had their own homes nearby.  One son had moved to UB.  All of the children and grandchildren had been or were attending school.  The head of the family had completed grammar school.  He visited with us quite a while answering the many questions we all had with Bulgaa doing the translating.  Several of the grandchildren wandered in and out of the house.  We learned that they occupy this house 2 months of the year and spend the rest of the year in gers in their winter camp.  They much prefer living in a ger as it is more comfortable and warmer.  They own no vehicles but shared the use of a truck with other yak herders to get their products to market in Moron, the town we landed at 5 driving hours away.   The family herd includes 80 yaks, yak-cows and cows and 20 horses.  The whole family is engaged in producing yak milk, cream, butter, cheese.   The wife, who had been dressed in western style work clothes, quickly donned a deel (the traditional Mongolian dress) and sat with us, although she never spoke.  After a time she brought in a large bowl filled with fresh clotted cream and bread.   It tasted quite good with even a hint of sweetness to it.

Finally, we went outdoors to watch a daughter and granddaughter milk the animals.   The calves are kept separate from their mothers all day.  At milking time, one calf at a time is let out to suckle its mother.  Once it has “primed the pump” the granddaughter pulls it away and the mother milks the animal by hand.  Before the cow is fully milked, the calf is allowed to continue feeding and the next calf is let out.  This process happens twice a day, every day.  It did not take long before we were tired of watching, bid our good byes and went back to our own camp.

After dinner, Mark went to the shower house to clean up and I went for a walk to the lake shore to watch the sunset.  I imagined that Chenghis Khan (spelled the Mongolian way) must have visited this lake and that it and the surrounding landscape must have looked the same as it does now.  There is absolutely no development anywhere, except for a few ger camps, which look exactly like they did in his time.  The only new additions are the power line and a few vehicles.  When we flew over the landscape there was only the beautiful scenery, and few ger and occasional herds of animals.  I am loving the experience.

Hope you all enjoyed our national holiday.  Julia

July 7, 2010

Ulaanbataar

Yesterday morning we left Lake Hovsgol and retraced our steps to Moron (pronounced Mooroon).  None of us liked the 4 ½ hour drive on horribly bumpy dirt tracks.  At least this time our driver picked less bumpy ones.  We traveled in two vehicles and sometimes we were several tracks apart.   The A/C in one of the vehicles did not work so those folks had a hot dusty time in addition to the bumps.  The scenery is so beautiful and vast, it is hard not to stop the car to take photos.  Don’t know if any photo can capture it.   Back at Moron, we bid goodbye to the drivers and flew back to UB on time and without incident.  We are all hot and dirty, but Steve insists we go directly to lunch and then to two museums before we get to the hotel and a blessed shower with lots of hot water.  Fortunately, the restaurant was excellent and we enjoyed Greek salad and perfectly cooked lamb and chicken on skewers.  The food at the camp was just edible and mostly deep fried.  We all felt better after that and walked across the street to visit the charming Monastery/Museum Mark and I had seen on our own the first day in town.  This time we appreciated it much more as Bulgaa and Steve provided much needed details on the building, sculptures, paintings and masks.  It had originally been the home and temple of the brother of the last Mongolian lama, the Bogd Gadeen.   Many of the sculptures of buddhas were beautifully carved by a famous artist, Zanabazar.  Steve wonders why the world has not recognized him for his skill, which was indeed extraordinary.  Some of them are bronze.  We will visit the Zanabazar Museum later in the trip.

From there we drove to the National Museum of History, which I was most interested in visiting.  We only had one hour until closing time so we did the highlight version.  As none of the museums are air conditioned, and there were three floors to cover, none of us complained at the speed.  Mark said he had never seen me go through a museum so fast.  He was right about that.   This is when we really experienced Steve’s depth of knowledge about this country.  He has advance degrees in Central Asian and Mongolian history brought the museum to life, even with the highlight version.  The building is laid out in chronological order from ancient civilizations right through the Soviet era and the new democratic age.  There was also a section of traditional clothing from each of the areas or tribes of the country that was very colorful.

At last we returned to the hotel.  Mark and I took long showers and relaxed until dinner.  Well, we both repacked and did our laundry in the bathtub.  Amid the wet clothing hanging around the room, I went to work on my story and Mark read.  I guess one could day we were relaxing.  I have not mentioned that the A/C in the hotel works, but just barely.  We have it on and the window open too.  We sleep with only the sheet and often we toss it off.   Same with cold drinks we buy.  They are cool, but not cold.  Restaurants are not air conditioned either.  The six story department store had no A/C and we were miserable up on the 5^th floor where they kept the tourist stuff.  Hard to imagine anyone hangs around long enough to buy anything, but the place was full of shoppers—mostly local.  Slowly we are adjusting…or at least, not complaining.

Finally, we were treated to BD’s Mongolian BBQ.  We all enjoyed making our own concoctions and even went back to make additional ones.  Most of the patrons were westerners.  I suspect it is not local fare.   Ice cream for dessert and then back home to bed.  I tried to write, but soon gave up and joined Mark making zzzs.

This morning, July 7, we are off again driving west into the heart of the country.  We are told the road is paved and the drive is only 3 hours to our next ger camp.  Will let you know how it goes.

Some of the things we have learned so far about the Nomadic culture include:

Nomads invented the trouser—the only way to be comfortable on a horse.

The horse was domesticated about 1500BC, but it took more time for development of the bridle, bit, saddle and finally the stirrup.

The Great Wall of China was built to keep the horseback riding nomads out of China.

The yak-cow is a hybrid of the two animals and is preferred because it gives more milk than a yak and more butter fat than a cow.

Mare’s mile is fermented and drunk as an alcoholic beverage.  It must be aerated 2-300 times every day to keep it from going bad.  It is thin, whitish and very sour.  A couple of sips were all we needed to know it was an acquired taste we were not interested in developing.

Nomads share the land equitably.  Nomads do not own land.  Use of it comes down through inheritance.

Privatization of land has happened in the towns and UB, where one can own the land around one’s home and can buy small plots in the nearby countryside.  Otherwise the government owns all land.  The nomads share it equitably with their herds moving about freely.

Women are equal with men in nomadic cultures.

Mongolians are tolerant of all religious beliefs.  Chenghis Khan promoted that attitude.  They themselves have been Shamanists, Muslims, Christians and Buddhists.  Today most now are Buddhists, although we are told that only about 60% practice the religion.

The Reindeer People have very Eskimo-like facial features.  They paint a romantic picture, but the truth is they have problems similar to our native American Indians.  Later on the day we boated out to meet them, we encountered the man in camp helping himself to the vodka.   So much for romance.

The drive to Hustai Camp in Hustai National Park was 3 hours over mostly paved roads.  The scenery along the way was again open, vast, green, gentle rolling with low mountains in the far distance.  Small ger camps dotted the landscape and medium sized to very large herds were visible in nearly always in sight—some up close and some far away.  Along the road side there was occasionally a row of wooden buildings that housed small businesses and looked like cowboy props in a western movie.  Bulgaa calls them “canteens”.   Many were frequented by men on horseback, although there were lots of motor cycles and trucks too.

Hustai camp was large and full of tourists.  Our ger was in the middle of the camp and impossible to distinguish from other ger except for a tiny number on the door jamb.   It was like living in a community of row houses.  We memorized our location and hoped that we would remember it in the dark.   After another unmemorable lunch and a rest in the hot afternoon, we headed into the park about 4pm.  Immediately we noticed a change in the scenery.  We had entered very rocky hills with bunch grasses and stinging plants.  The hills and hillocks were made of metamorphic rock with interesting colors and shapes.   Our first stop was an ancient cemetery with unusually carved stones in the shape of figures with crossed arms.   A row of stone posts stretched out for several kilometers from the main grave stone in the cemetery.   What did it all mean?   We wandered and wondered.

Back in our vehicles, we began our game drive searching for the wild horses everyone has heard about.  They are Takhi horses, often called Przewalski Horses for the man who brought them back to Mongolia.  The last Takhi horse in Mongolia had disappeared in 1960 and there were only a few in zoos around the world.  Przwalski spent years getting people to support the idea of bringing the horses back, locating an appropriate environment, getting a huge park land approved and, in the early 90’s, finally bringing the first 15 horses from different zoos.  Eventually 84 animals were reintroduced to Mongolia and now there are over 250 totally wild animals.  They have 68 chromosomes rather than the normal 64 in regular horses.  They cannot be ridden or used as beasts of burden, which is why the Nomads had gradually eradicated them.  They were of no benefit and ate the grass useful horses needed.   Now the communities around the area have become invested in growing and managing the herd in the park for tourism.   It was very late in the day before we spotted any Takhi and they were very far away.   We kept looking and found other groups closer but still too far to photograph.   Then we say a group up on a hill and some of us hiked up to get a better look and some photos.   Somewhat disappointed we began to head out of the park, when suddenly there were herds of horses galloping down the hillside to the fertile grasses and the creek at the bottom.  What a wonderful sight.  We were able to get within 300 feet of them.  They are really beautiful animals.  Tawny colored with lighter bellies and flowing, dark brown tails and manes, they have slightly larger heads than regular horses in comparison to their smaller bodies.   We saw several fowls, which are a creamy white color.   Mark also spotted a rare red deer high on a rocky slope.  Try as hard as I could, I could not spot it.  It was nearly dark when we left the park, well after 9pm.  Fortunately, the dining room was still open.  I went to the shower building and had a cool, low pressure experience.  Unsatisfied, I was at least clean enough to go to bed.

Next morning, July 8, we left Hustai and continued west to Korakoram, the ancient capital of the Mongols established by Chenghis Khan in 1222.  Along the way we stopped at a ger camp next to some sand dunes, the first we have seen so far.  Then we drove a bit out of the way to the remains of a huge  17^th century monastery, called Young Man Monastery, nestled into Khogn Khaan Mountain.   Housing thousands of monks, it had been one of the monasteries under Zanabazar, the 1^st Bogd Gadeen or holy teacher and spiritual ruler of Mongolia.  (The Bogd Gadeen was the equivalent of the Dahli Lama in Tibet.  The last Bogd Gadeen was the 8^th, who died shortly after the Soviets took control of Mongolia.)  Apparently Zanabazar was a better artist and spiritual leader than politician.  He made a critical decision to ask for help from the Manchu people in the east rather than side with his fellow Mongols in the west.  So the western Mongol king, Galdan Boshigt, decided to come after Zanabazar.  His troops reached Young Man Monastery and brutally strangled over a thousand monks on Khogn, which means “strangled”.   Zanabazar, meanwhile, escaped.  Then his troops returned to Karakoram but were unable to cross the Orhon River as it was in flood.  Many of them died trying.  As a result of Zanabazar’s decision, the Manchus’ ruled Mongolia for the next 200 years.   We were shown around by a pretty woman named Altai, who has made it her mission to restore the monastery.  She has built and furnished a couple of very small temples and attracted 5 monks to live and pray at the place.  The area was intimate, peaceful and charming and the view from the hillside temples was excellent.    We could still see the remains of the 17^th century buildings.

The road was paved and nearly straight with undulating hills.  The landscape continued to be expansive and nearly empty except for herds of animals and occasional gers.  We tried to compare it to places at home but gave up trying.  Finally we crested a hill and began to descend into the great Orhon Valley, which is greener and more fertile that all the land we had crossed to get here.  It is protected by the Hangai Mountains and blessed by gently flowing rivers that across the wide marsh and grass-covered steppe.  The valley has such a desirable microclimate that it has attracted people since Palaeolithic times some 750,000 years ago.  Evidence of settlement has been found back to the Xiongnu nomads between 300 and 100BC.

The valley is considered one of the world’s most important cultural regions and was recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site in 2004.  The listing recognizes the valley’s influence on world history, trade and the strength and persistence of nomadic culture.  This culture is still a central part of Mongolian society and respected as a “noble” way to live in harmony with the landscape.   Karakoram is in the middle of the valley.   Today it is a small town of wooden houses, each individually enclosed with 6 foot tall wood fences, a large flour mill and some other industrial buildings.  The ancient city was completely destroyed by Mongol enemies only 20 years after Kublai Khan, Chenghis’s grandson, moved his capital to what is now Beijing.  Within the valley are evidence of the former capitals of the Xiongnu, the Rouran (5^th-6^th centuries AD), the Turks (6^th-8^th centuries AD), Uyghurs (8^th – 9^th centuries AD), the Kyrgyz (9^th – 11^th centuries AD) and the Khitan (11^th -12^th centuries).  When Chenghis came along in the late 12^th century, he used the valley as his western encampment for his huge military campaigns to the west and south.  In 1222 he named the valley the capital of the Mongol Empire.  Unfortunately the capital lasted only 40 years before Kublai abandoned it.  In 1288 Ming dynasty troops launched a series of raids intro Mongolia and totally destroyed Karakoram in 1388.  Kublai’s shift to the east to establish the Yuan Dynasty marked the beginning of the disintegration of the Mongol Empire, which had become the largest Empire the world has ever seen.

In 1586 Erdene Zuu Monastery was founded on the site of the old city and the present day town.  It is Mongolia’s oldest surviving Buddhist Monastery, although it is now primarily a museum.

We arrived in town too late to do anything except go to Dream Land, our ger camp for the next 2 nights.  Steve had promised us a surprise and I was hoping it would be “en suite” bathrooms.  Instead, each ger was carpeted, had beds with thick mattresses, night stands and lamps, a TV and heating and air conditioning units that worked.  The bath and shower rooms were clean and there was a masseuse on duty.   Mark didn’t wait.  He took a quick shower and ordered a massage.  The lady came to our ger and worked on his back, which has been sore from all the bumpy riding we have done for days and days.  Meanwhile, I was really ready for a nice hot shower.  However, the water was only a little warmer than at the previous camp.  At least there was plenty of pressure and clean facilities.

Dinner was a slight improvement over previous ger food and our group, which has bonded nicely, did a lot of travel and other storytelling and laughing over beer and scotch.  Our ages range from 55 to 67 and everyone is as much or more traveled than Mark and I.  We get along especially well with the couple from Ventura and find we have a lot in common.   After all the laughter and liquor we slept really well.

July 9, 2010

Dream Land Camp, Karakoram, Mongolia

Today we visited the local points of interest and view sights, including the Erdene Zuu Monastery.   We also encountered our first outdoor tourist vendors.   With Bulgaa’s help I purchased some “authentic” Mongolian carved camel bone snuff bottles and a pair of Buddhist chimes.  The price we settled on was 43,000 tuglugs.  Not bad at 1350 tuglugs to the dollar.

Then we headed to the open field where the local Naadam Festival is taking place.  The national holiday is July 11, but each region chooses when they want to do their own festivities.  In the Orhon Valley, this is the 1^st of a 2-day festival and as it is a small community, we were able to watch the participants, activities, events up close.  We saw the opening ceremonies, the beginning of the wrestling competition and the finish of a horse race before lunch.  The horse races are interesting in that the race is intended to determine the fastest horse independently of the rider.  So children, aged 5 to 14, ride the horses bare back or with saddles as they wish.  The races are of varying distances and start with the riders walking the horses from the finish out to the beginning and then racing back. Each race can take several hours.  We say the 7 year old horses racing in for the finish.   The crowd had been watching the wrestlers when an announcement came that the racers were getting close so everyone ran or rode to the finish line to cheer the riders home.   The rider on the winning horse appeared to be 13 or 14, but the second finisher was more like 10.  I didn’t see anyone that looked under 7, but there were a lot of very tired children and horses back in the pack.

Dream Land was very close to the festival site, so we had lunch there and went back in the afternoon.   The wrestlers were funny to watch as they have unusual and skimpy costumes and a variety of rituals they go through before making contact.  As we were watching the early matches, the best and biggest were paired with less strong and experienced wrestlers so many matches ended quickly.  The matches that were evenly paired dragged on.  Just when I tired of watching and let my gave wander, one of them would drop the other and it was over.   I soon tired of it and went to watch local women who had volunteered to demonstrate their archery skills with stone arrows they aim at an area on the ground rather than a target to be penetrated.   The arrows are blunt but strong enough to break a leg with a well-aimed shot.  None of the women were dressed in traditional clothing, which bothered our guide Bulgaa.   One woman had on a backless dress and high heels and succeeded in putting the arrow in the correct spot.   Another announcement sent us all running back to the finish line to watch the 2-year old horses come in.  This time I saw lots of younger children.  It was much fun to get into the excitement of rooting for the kids, who pullout all the stops to make it across the line.   This race was, I believe, only 15k.  While watching I got into a conversation with an unusual local who spoke some English.  He was a well to do looking gentleman, who asked me where I was from.  I was surprised, as few Mongolians we have met know any English.  Most rarely smile even when smiled at and are not particularly warm and friendly.   Anyway, he had just returned from a trip to Rhode Island to watch his daughter graduate from Brown University with a degree in microbiology.  She is now working in New York and he was obviously very proud of her.  I took his photo, for which he stopped smiling, and gave him my e-mail address as he plans to come to California someday.  He pulled out a huge snuff bottle made of coral, gold and some rare transparent stone I could not make out.  It had been his grandfather’s and he was nearly as proud of it as he was of his daughter.

By 4:30 we were very dusty and had had enough Naadam Festival for one day.  Back at camp, I had another tepid shower and then wrote until dinner, which was a briefer affair than the night before.  I think everyone of us was in need of some quiet time.  Tomorrow we depart at 8am for the long trek back to UB.  We are all especially tired of so much driving and bouncing around on bumpy roads, paved or not.  There is a lot of talk about massages and stretching.

Time for bed.  I will send this after we get to UB and have a hot shower.

July 10, 2010

Arrived UB after 5 ½ hours of driving.  Sure glad to get that drive behind us even if the scenery was equally beautiful in reverse.  Mark went directly to the massage lady and I checked email and did some writing.  Then we went out to see a couple of art galleries.  One was closed, but the other was not.  It was our second visit to the place and this time we purchased a large mask and costume to go with it.  Not sure how we will display it, but it will be unique among our motley collection of stuff.   All day the sky has been overcast and threatening, so the air is nice and cool.  We have been lucky to be under cover whenever it has rained.  After organizing payment and shipping for our purchase we walked to a restaurant we had eaten in with the group and had a just ok meal by ourselves—disappointing food and service.   All through the meal we were treated to a view of multiple security agents all suited up including ear buds and acting busy about a bunch of VIP’s who took over the restaurant upstairs from the one we were in.  It was fun to watch them and the black, flagged cars from a variety of countries.  Mark wondered if it might be a UN event or something to do with the National Day coming up tomorrow.   After dinner, while walking to our hotel via the main square, we saw 40+ costumed horsemen trot up to the statue of Chenghis Khan, get off and stand next to their steeds at perfect attention.  Even the horses did not move.  So we waited to see what would happen.  Next a costumed band arrived by goose step and formed up behind the horsemen.  Then we waited nearly 45 minutes for what?  Finally the band struck a drum roll and out of the Khan Monument walked more costumed men carrying large banners like the ones all Mongol rulers used in the 12th and 13^th centuries.  They marched down the monument steps to the horsemen, who remounted and received the banners.  Then the whole group proceeded to march around the building.  We decided we had seen enough and marched ourselves home.  My guess is they returned the banners to safe keeping for the night and will bring them out again in the morning for the Naadam Festival as part of the opening ceremonies.  Although we have already experienced Naadam festivities in Karakoram, we are excited to see how it will play out in the nation’s capital tomorrow.

Till then, Julia

July 13, 2010

Discovery Camp, Gobi Desert, Mongolia

UB was a crush of people—locals, tourists and country people in town for Naadam.  The infrastructure has not kept up with the population growth and everywhere there was congestion.  The 35,000 seat stadium itself is very old and a bit scary.  The steps are very narrow and many are broken, the bathrooms are closed because they do not function and I could not imagine what we would do if there was a fire.  There were not enough places for all the tourists in our covered section 3 to sit and there was a fair amount of grumbling and selfishness at work before most everyone squeezed themselves into spaces, not all of which were seats, and the ceremonies started.  First the president of the country spoke and then the banners we had seen in the square were paraded into the stadium and placed in a circle near the center of the field.  A traditional long song, a throat song and a contemporary song were sung by various groups and then we all stood for the national anthem.   Chenghis Khan and a contingent of warriors galloped into the stadium amid loud cheering and proceeded to demonstrate some very fancy horsemanship including hitting targets with bow and arrows while at full gallop.  Many colorful dancers performed in groups on the field, some with banners flying.  Several military groups entered the field together and, by turn, performed precision maneuvers, did synchronized Marshal Arts and gave battle demonstrations.   Then there was a parade of groups of people in various kinds of clothing, carrying flags and balloons.  When they had all marched around the arena and into the center of the field, they filled the place.   Finally, the field cleared out and there was a short break during which many of the tourists also cleared out.  We stayed for the first round of wrestling.   Dozens of wrestler entered the field, paid their respects to the Khan banners, did a bunch of posturing and began to wrestle with each other.  Each wrestler has a second, who holds his hat and watches closely for any fowl moves by the opponent.  There is also a referee for each match.  It was very confusing to watch so many matches going on at one time.  As this was only the first round, the biggest guys were beating the little guys quickly.  We had had enough after that round, but apparently there are 9 rounds that last until 8pm the second day when a grand winner is declared.

We walked around the large grounds, which reminded me of our county fair.  There was a carnival, lots of vendors selling imported goods, food vendors, a special arena for the archery tournament and a separate building for a popular national game called knuckle bone, played with pieces of sheep bone.  First we enjoyed watching the archery.  The men and women teams took turns shooting and tending the target area.  The arrows do not have points.  They are made of blunt nosed stone and are aimed at a collection of stacked blocks.  The score depends on which blocks are hit.  Just about the time it started to rain we entered the game building and watched teams of 3-4 men shoot a rectangular bone piece about 1 ½ inch by 2 inches across a 12-15 foot space into a box where other bone pieces were standing.  Their job was to hit and knock out the pieces.  The first team to get to 16 points wins.  There were several of these games happening simultaneously, with people wandering from game to game watching.  Our game of marbles is the nearest game we have to it.

The rain and wind eventually pick up and we run for the car.  It has rained most days for a short time in the afternoon and been a refreshing break to the heat and dust.  This rain was more than the usual sprinkle.   Back at the hotel we had only enough time to shower and head out again to the National Concert Hall for a performance by the National Music and Dance Company.  We have been to numerous such folkloric performances and our whole group agreed that this was the best, by far, that any of us had ever seen.  We were treated to very professional dancing and singing, accompanied by a full Mongolian orchestra with traditional instruments and a conductor.   Spectacular costumes and theatrics and excellently timed choreography kept us totally engaged for 90 minutes.  Following the show we went directly to Bayangol Restaurant Theatre.  Unfortunately, neither the food nor the performance there were appealing in any way.  On the way back to the hotel, we passed by Sukebator Square again and found the whole square full of people hanging out and listening to a very loud pop band.   This is the one night of the year when there is so much frivolity.  I tried to write, but crashed instead.

Although Naadam events continue a second day, we head for the airport and fly to Dalandzagad in the southern part of Gobi Desert.  We are met again by two Mitsubishi Delica, the same kind of vehicles we had in Lake Hovsgol.  They are comfortable 4×4, air conditioned vehicles.  The scenery is even more expansive than the steppe areas in the north as the land is flat for huge distances with low mountains nearly out of view.  The grass looks green from a distance, but is sparse when seen up close.   Between each small tuft is lots of gravel.  The roads are mostly corrugated gravel with the usual choice of tracks to follow.  We are luck as it is not hot and recent rains have greened up the grass and reduced the dust.  We drive about an hour and a half to our first Gobi camp, called Camp Mirage.  Nearly all the way there we are seeing mirages and feeling thankful not to be walking in the desert.   We are greeted by a traditionally dressed welcoming committee holding the traditional bowl of goats milk given to guests.  This very nice touch was followed up with very clean, well-managed facilities.  Even the food, served buffet style, was better than we have been getting.   The salads were cabbage and cucumber, cabbage and beet, peas and pickles, warm plain pasta, a hot beef stroganoff type dish, the usual greasy warm French fries, bread and warmed preserved pear/apples is juice for dessert.   In spite of the underwhelming culinary fare, we are staying well, but not losing weight.

July 13, 2010

Discovery Camp, Gobi Desert, Mongolia

The next morning, July 12, we flew to the South Gobi Desert and landed in the middle of the desert at a place called Dalanzagad.  I think there was a town, but we never saw it.  From the airport we departed on a dirt road, the only kind in the Gobi, and headed directly west toward our ger (pronounced gair by the way) in Camp Mirage.  And the place was very aptly named as we everything in the distance was one continuous mirage for the entire 1 ½ hour drive across endlessly flat, gravel and low grass desert.    Having been warned that the desert was not all sand, we were not surprised.  In fact 95% of the Gobi is just what we were looking at.   It is impossible to convey the vastness of the space.  We were all mesmerized.  Any animal or structure became noteworthy.  We were fascinated by reflections of a ger camp in a mirage.  Camp Mirage itself was hot, dry, dusty, just what you might expect in the desert.   The staff, meanwhile, was very nice starting with greeting us at the entrance gate in traditional clothing and offering goat’s milk to drink.   We had lunch with barely cool beer and then headed out for our excursion of the day, Yolyn Am (Vulture Canyon) in the far eastern end of the Altai Mountains.   The sky grew dark an ominous, then opened up and provided us with a 30 minute downpour.  Nevertheless, we climbed imperceptibly for over an hour before entering the Zunn Saihan, or East Beauty as the range is called.  It is in the largest national park in Mongolia, 10,400 square miles.  From the valley floor we climbed over 1000 meters into the heart of the range.  At the entrance to the park we stopped at a small museum of local wild life—similar moth infested stuffed creatures we saw at the Natural Museum in UB—and a row of vendor shops where I found cashmere wool socks that say “Made in Mongolia”.   As we drove up into the Nature Reserve we watched for wild game and managed to spot a beautiful fox on the move.  It stopped and looked back long enough for us to get a good look.  Mark thinks he saw some eagles, but I missed them.  It was a beautiful drive with rocky crags and cliffs on both sides of us as we drove through the narrow, verdant valley lush from the creek that meandered through it.  When the road ended we walked three kilometers down into the canyon passing locals enjoying picnic lunches on the grass beside the cool water.   Gradually the canyon narrowed with tall cliffs rising on either side of us. The canyon walls were so close that we had trouble not walking directly in the creek.  Finally, around a bend we reached our goal—the remains of last season’s snow and ice.  There was not much left, but it was there—snow in the desert!  The sun must never reach that part of the canyon.  The hike out was equally pleasant.  It felt food to stretch our legs, breathe deeply and walk in the landscape.   Walking out of the canyon we passed several opportunistic vendors selling crafts.  I bought a piece of stone carved with a horse on one side and a camel on the other.  I also bargained for a hand-made tapestry called “A day in the Life” of Mongolia.   It reminds me of a similar one I purchased years ago on Lake Titicaca and the story board Mark and I bought in Papua New Guinea.   I have now spent all the Tuglug we brought from UB so no more shopping for me.

Driving back to camp, the low point in the road was flooded from the rain we had experienced three hours earlier.  Steve commented that this was only the second time he had seen the desert flooded in the 30 years he has been coming to the Gobi.   Our 4×4’s handled the situation easily and we continued on wondering at the suddenness nature can change  the environment.   Back at the camp, we had another meal about the same as lunch.  Thank goodness for the beer, even if it is not cold.  Mongolia offers 4-5 local options including one dark beer.   My choice is Chenghis.  We have experienced remarkably few bugs, if you don’t count flies, on this trip.  This night, as every night in the Gobi, we leave the door open for the breeze, the night sky and intermittent rain.  The air was not cold, but it cooled off enough to need a blanket.

At 8am the entire Mirage camp staff turned out to wish us a safe journey and sprinkle milk on our tires to insure the best for us.  We drive 4 hours through the unending gravel and grass desert where the tallest natural form is the camel, which can be seen from a long distance.  We continue further west in the south-eastern end of the Altai Range to get to our next overnight stop, Discovery Camp.  The rocky ridges give us perspective and points to focus on.  There are more herds of animals and summer ger camps in the hills.   At one point we passed a well where men were taking turns pulling water out of it and dumping it into a trough for their horses.  The horses fought each other to get to the water.  It was fun to watch the fracas.

As we crossed the high point of the range heading south the largest sand dunes in Mongolia came into view.  They are 12 miles long, 7 ½ miles wide and the tallest are 650 feet.  We could not see the full length of the dunes from our location.  Back down on the desert floor, we soon arrived at camp, checked into our ger and went to lunch.  This camp has many other guests.  We have been spoiled by having most camps nearly to ourselves.  After lunch, Steve gave us an interesting lecture on Shamanism and how it impacts Buddhism in Mongolia.  It has been in existence since the beginning of religious or spiritual beliefs in pre-history.

A shaman spirit selects and initiates a person. It acts like a second soul and is a source of power and controls the shaman’s encounters with other spirits.   The new shaman will fall ill and be examined by another shaman, who will recognize if the person has been selected.  If he has, the person has a choice to become a shaman or not.  If he accepts, he will be healed.  If he refuses, he will usually die.   Training and initiation will follow.  A shaman’s duty is primarily as a healer because spirits are believed to be the cause of illness.  Other duties include: blessing, protection, hunting magic and weather magic.  Shamans use a variety of tools.  Their costume provides actual residences for their helper spirits.  A one sided, 60 cm or larger hand-held drum is used in most ceremonies to drive the singing and dancing that help propel him into a trance.  The next important tool is a round metallic mirror, or mirrors, which he attaches to his costume, particularly over his chest to act as a shield against spirit attach and to absorb energy from the universe to increase his power.  The shaman will also have one or two staffs that represent horses, which they ride on their spirit journeys.  Not all rituals require a trance.  Many tasks are performed in an ordinary state of consciousness.

The most powerful way to induce a trance is by beating the shaman drum.  Shaman drumming is not steady, however.  The drumming will slow down or speed up, get softer or louder depending on the Shaman’s mind at any given moment.  Mongolian drums are generally large in diameter and give a deep, resonating sound that vibrates through the shaman’s body, especially when held directly over his head or near his face.  Intoxicants may be used before or during the ritual.  Juniper, a mild hallucinogenic, is used in many rituals in Mongolia.  Juniper smoke is believed to be pleasing to the spirits.  The muscaria mushroom, a more potent hallucinogenic, has been connected with Mongolian shamanism from ancient times.  Many shamanistic rituals, superstitions and spirit beliefs have been incorporated into Buddhism as can be seen in the many deities found in Buddhist temples.   Excerpted from Steve’s comments and “A course in Mongolian Shamanism-Introduction 101” at the Golomt Center for Shamanistic Studies, Ulaanbataar.

After the heat of the day had passed, we drove an hour to the edge of the sand dunes to visit a camel herder family and ride some of his animals.  This was the third nomad family we have visited and each time we have had delightful experiences.  First we invited to sit and then served the obligatory yak butter tea and small deep fried biscuits.  They are OK , but I am getting very tired of fried food, which is the preferred method of cooking almost everything.  If it isn’t fried it is boiled and has almost no flavor at all.  In this family there were the couple and their four kids.  The two sons were herders and worked with the father.  The two daughters were in school.   Even the herder’s wife had finished high school.   All over Mongolia we have witnessed girls going to school as much or more than boys.  We asked the couple, who were both involved in the conversation for a change, how they met.  They were pleases to tell us they met on a farm commune during the Soviet era.  He was a driver and she worked in the fields.  As soon as the Soviets left they went into the herding business, which had always been what they wanted to do.   They have over 400 animals, including a very gentle group of camels.   From their summer ger we rode into the dunes for a ways.  I really liked riding the Bactrian’s (two humps instead of one).  Once the sand became steep, we walked on up the dune a ways and slid down.  As we had had recent rain, the sand was more compact than usual so we did not hear the singing sound the sand can make when it is dry.  Half the group walked back to the ger while the rest of us road back.  It was especially nice not to be pulled by a herder.  We were each allowed to control our own animal.  Back at the herder’s camp, we did not linger.  Said our good byes and drove back to Discovery Camp.

This was the only camp where we were assigned a king bed.  At first I thought it would be nice, but I no sooner sat on the bed when I knew it was the going to be a difficult night.  The mattress was 2 inches thick and rested on wooden slats that were not secure.  What a time we had.  Best to grin and bear it and not talk much about it.  We did get through the night, but were sleepy most of the next day.

July 14,2010

Discovery was our most easterly camp.  On the 14^th we retraced our path for 3 hours and then made a turn to get to 3 Camels Lodge, the most luxurious camp we visited.  Not only was it attractive to look at with well-built permanent stone buildings, we were provided with extra wide twin beds with thick comfortable mattresses.  Lovely.  There was a large veranda with porch swings that beckoned us to linger in the cool breeze.  Unfortunately, Steve had us booked all day long with activities.  After lunch, still not very appealing, we drove to the “famous” Flaming Cliffs to see where huge dinosaurs had been found in the mid 20’s.  The place looked a bit like Bryce Canyon, complete with hoodoos and the flaming red color.

Must go now to catch our flight to Beijing.   Good bye Mongolia.

More later.  Julia

July, 17, 2010

Raffles Hotel, Beijing, China

Ahh!  How lovely it is to be in a first class hotel—especially when you are not feeling well—but I am getting ahead of myself.

Back on the 14^th, we drove all around the Flaming cliffs and spent some time poking around for dinosaur bones.  We think we found some bone fragments, but it is hard to tell as they look white just like a lot of small rocks.   Steve and Bulgaa said to lick the suspected fragment and if it sticks, it is most likely bone.  We tried it and are bringing home a few pieces that stuck.  Between the heat, grit, tedium and having to lick everything, there is no chance I will become a Paleontologist in this life.   Once, when I was much younger, I thought it sounded romantic.  From now on, I will content myself with the exploits of tongue licking scientists in the National Geographic.  Needless to say, we all quickly tired of bone hunting and drove on to the nearby Saxaul Forest, where the oldest and rarest trees in Mongolia live.  Apparently they grow nowhere else in the world.  The largest Saxaul trees are actually not much bigger than large bushes and live to be several hundred years old in very dry, hot and inhospitable desert.  They have long knobby needles and whitish, weathered bark.  Bulgaa was very proud of them.

About 5:30 we finally get back to the 3 Camels Lodge, clean up and head for the veranda for a drink, the cool breeze and the view of the endless landscape.  Mark and I have both been feeling a little off and eating less of the heavy fried food every meal.  No different this evening.  After dinner we watched a show put on by students of the local Arts and Culture School.  It was the same singing and dancing we had seen before, but not nearly as well done.   More activities were planned by the Lodge for the late evening including an outdoor fire, drinks, cigars and music, but Mark and I headed for the nice beds and a good night’s sleep.

We are up at 4am on the 15^th to catch an 8am flight back to Ulaanbataar from the Dalandzagad Airport.  The Chenghis Khan Hotel was feeling like home when we pulled in before 11am.  We rested for an hour then went to the Zanabazar Museum to see beautiful bronzes by Zanabazar and fine art from ancient times forward.  I especially liked the hand stitched tapestries as well as Zanabazar’s exquisitely carved Buddhas.  Mark and I had previously purchased a mask and costume in the art shop of the museum and found it still on display.  The artist said she would ship it shortly now that the Naadam Festival was over.   Sure hope so.

Lunch was supposed to be an American treat called Milly’s Espresso that served “hamburgers and French fries like we get at home”.   Maybe so, but it was not what my stomach wanted.  I had a chicken sandwich and couldn’t get it all down.  Most everyone else had cheese burgers and ate it all.  The owner of the place is a big Kenyan lady who came over to make sure we were happy customers.  What a surprise it was to see her running an American lunch place in Mongolia.    Then we were off again for one last stop to see the 8^th Bogd Gadeen’s Winter Palace.  It was in just about the same shape it was in when he last lived in it in 1924, complete with his spun gold and fur clothing, furnishings, a ger covered by dozens of white leopard skins, art works, his personal collection of stuffed animals from all parts of the world, temples and the same unkempt grounds we have seen in every temple, residence or monastery we have visited.   The house was built in Siberian style; 2 stories, a central door and several evenly spaced windows all cased in fancy, carved wood trim, painted yellow.  More Zanabazar Buddhas were on display in the temples.  The Summer Palace was destroyed by the Soviets, but this Palace was turned into a Museum instead.  It seems this last Bogd Gadeen was popular with the people and it would have been unwise to destroy his last home.

In late afternoon with a light rain, we head back to the hotel to organize our packing for our trip to Beijing the next day.  At 7pm we head to an Indian Restaurant for our farewell dinner.  We were not feeling at all well by then and Mark barely sat down before he excused himself and went back to the hotel.  I made it through dinner, but ate very little.   By the time I got back to the room, Mark had already spent a lot of time in the bathroom and was lying on the bed trying to sleep.  I wrote for an hour or so until I was suddenly overcome by the urge to run to the bathroom myself.   That was it.  One or the other of us was on the throne the rest of the night.  I don’t think either of us got any sleep.  Luckily we managed not to require the room at the same time–except once when Mark asked if I was going to camp in it.   We felt miserable the morning of July 16 and skipped breakfast.   In the lobby at 9am everyone looked as bad as we felt.  No one smiled.  As we soon found out, all of them had been just as sick and were just as tired as we were.  All the way to airport we talked about what might have caused us to all have the same problem at the same time, but we could never quite put our finger on a particular meal or food as we had never all eaten the same thing.   We were all so tired, including Steve and, to a lesser degree, Bulgaa that we minimized our good byes and hoped we could get to our destinations without getting sick again.  I think all of us used up our supplies of Imodium to insure a safe flight.   Mark and I made it to Beijing and were very glad we were not in transit back to the states as some of the others were.  Our guide, driver and a new Chinese car called Red Flag, which is made in Inner Mongolia were waiting.  Our guide, John, chatted all the way to the Raffles Hotel and told us of the plans he had for the balance of our first day in Beijing.  When we told him we were not up to doing anything and why, he recommended we have reflexology massages to help the G-I system.    By 3:30 we were in a very spacious 5^th floor room with a balcony and good view of down town Beijing, highly polished hard wood floors, oriental carpets, functioning A/C and an excellent king size bed.   We did not leave it until the next morning.  We ordered noodle soup and foot massages in our room and were sound asleep by 7pm.

The next morning, we felt rested but our G-I systems were still not perfect.  In spite of the beautiful buffet breakfast spread, I only wanted yogurt.  Mark managed eggs, bacon, cheese and bread.

At 8am, John met us and we took the subway to the new concert hall that contains 3 theatres for opera, music and concerts.   It building was beautifully designed by a French company in the shape of an oval dome sitting in a shallow pond.  One must enter the complex from a tunnel underneath the pond and experience the water sliding down the tunnel walls.  All together the 3 halls contain 19,000 seats.  It was exquisite.  Sure wish we could have a smaller version in our community.   Then we walked to Tian’an Men Square and were instantly struck by the huge crowds of people waiting in lines to walk by Mao’s tomb.  John said it is like that every day, although weekends are worse.   It takes an hour to move through the line and is the only attraction that receives almost no foreigners.   Gradually we worked our way through the square and into the Palace Museum, more commonly known as the Forbidden City.  Originally completed in 1420 it became the heart of the Chinese world from which 24 emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties ruled China for nearly 500 years until the last ruler abdicated in 1912. Although Kublai Khan ruled from Beijing as the first Yuan Emperor in the late 1300’s, his palace was somewhere north of the Forbidden City.  I would like to have visited it to complete our trek through Mongolian history, but did not plan ahead for that possibility.   The Palace Museum was opened to the public for the first time in 1949.  I remember seeing the square and the Forbidden City in 1981 with my parents and am astonished at how much more crowded the City and the sights are today.  Between the oppressive, sticky heat and the crowds, visiting the Forbidden City was not a pleasant experience.   If you ever plan to go to Beijing, do not go in July and August or on a weekend day.  The Museum itself has not changed much since 1981 and the buildings have been well maintained.  As John said, it costs everyone, including locals, 45 Yuan to enter and 10’s of thousands visit every day so there ought to be enough money to keep the place looking good.

The City of Beijing has changed nearly beyond all recognition.  In 1981, the country had been open to tourists for only 3 years.  Everyone was still wearing Mao suits and carrying little red books.  There were only a few cars for VIP’s. Tourists rode in busses and everyone else was on bicycle or foot and pulling carts.  All the buildings were old and there were only a few places for tourists to stay and they were not very nice.   There were few store and very little to buy except for the “Friendship Stores” for tourists and VIP’s only.   The city is now transformed with many huge, contemporary buildings, wide streets full of cars, very few bicycles and western style clothing on everyone.   Everywhere people were busy shopping in stores filled to the brim with consumer goods.  As an example, 1000 new vehicles are sold each day in Beijing, according to John.  Is Mao turning over in his frozen grave?   Although there are only 17 million of the 1.3 billion people in China, it is easy to get a sense of just how huge and intense the population is.

We left the Forbidden City and collapsed hot and tired into our cool Red Flag car.  While on long drive to the Great Wall, John filled us in on some general information about the country.  About 10 million people are Catholic, including himself, 10 million are protestant, 10 million are Buddhists, 6 million are Muslims and vast majority do not practice any religion.  I was surprised to learn that of the 1.3 billion people only about 100 million are Communist Party members.  To become a social servant in any capacity, one must join the Party.  As a Catholic, he could never become a member of the Party.   When it comes time for an election, the winner is preselected by the Party, the people are given three choices to vote for and the winner is always the pre-determined person.  John thinks it is a joke and just the way it is in China so why get worked up about it.  Maybe that is a good attitude to adopt when you have absolutely no control.  He wondered about all the money our candidates spend on elections to get elected.   In the end it is still the rich and powerful that control, so why spend so much money and get all worked up for something we cannot control.  I asked him where he got all these notions about how Americans were no better off that Chinese.  He said he read it in a book.

We talked about land ownership and learned that the only landowner is the government.  People can rent residential property for up to 70 years, but after that it reverts to the state.  No one knows what will happen when the 70 years is up as this law has been in effect only since 1978.  John said there is much discussion in the government about what to do as it will not make sense to empty out all the buildings and reshuffle people.    For commercial property, the use right is up in 50 years so there is more urgency to address the matter.  The only exception, if I understood him correctly, was that churches remain the property of the religious institution indefinitely.   Six years ago, John bought a new 60 meter (645 sq ft) one bedroom apartment for $50,000.  It is about 40 minutes by subway from downtown Beijing.  He had enough to make the down payment and borrowed $30,000 over 30 years for the balance.  After 70 years, it will revert to the government.  Meanwhile, he said proudly, it has already quadrupled in value.   The probability is that he will trade up to a larger apartment when he and his new wife have a child.  He thinks it does not make much difference if there is land ownership or not as people have to be somewhere and the government will find some way to let the market and the economy function.  I think he must have read about that in his book too.  Regarding businesses and especially foreign companies, John said the government owns everything, including the buildings which have been built to spec, and just rents the space to the companies.   It appeared to me that John definitely has a nice life in Beijing regardless of politics.  Why rock the boat?

We stopped at a restaurant not far from the wall for lunch.  Thankfully there were pictures and English descriptions to help us choose.  We had braised fish with eggplant, string beans with garlic, minced meat and hot peppers and roasted chicken.  The beans came first, were super, even if on the hot side, and we could have called that lunch.  Then the fish came and we ate a fair amount of that.  Finally the chicken came and I passed as I was full.  Mark managed to eat more than half of it.  We both felt better for having eaten a real meal after almost 2 days of eating almost nothing.  We were ready for the hike up to the wall.  It was a lot steeper hill to climb than I expected.  About half way up through the gauntlet of hawking vendors, John suggested we take the cable car the rest of the way.  It felt like a mirage had turned to real water.  The cable car was more expensive than the fee to visit the wall.  We did not care.  Once on the wall, we walked a bit in both directions and took several photos even though the smog reduced visibility significantly.  There were lots of young Chinese bounding around and I was beginning to feel my age.  It did not take long before we were happy to retreat to the cable car for the ride down.  Mark had some fun negotiating with a t-shirt vendor and bought 3 “top quality” shirts for $21. He could have had 3 for a dollar from several other vendors, but was convinced that he ended up with a better product.

We were back at the hotel by 5:30 and cleaned up for dinner.  Then we walked to a Peking Duck Restaurant near our hotel that was highly recommended by several people.  We had to wait in line 30 minutes for a table and then another 45 minutes before the duck carver worked his way to us.  The place was packed with people.  Apparently there are 5 floors to the place with enough room for maybe 150 diners per floor.  Can’t imagine how many ducks must be consumed every evening.  Our duck was very tasty.  It was served with thin flour tortillas, plum sauce, scallions, cucumber wedges and mashed garlic.  Mark also ordered spring rolls, but they arrived so late that we were too full to eat more than one small piece each.   So again we ate the same food, except that I ate no duck skin and Mark ate quite a bit of it.  After dinner we walked back to the hotel.  The streets were packed with people strolling around.  It was Saturday night, but all I could think was that most of these people must live in un-air conditioned apartments and go out on the streets to be cooler.  Apparently, we have chosen the hottest week of the year to be in Beijing.

Back in our cool, quiet room, Mark went to bed and I wrote until he grumbled about the light.  I slept well, but he was up several time with the same problem we had just been through.   What a drag.  We were out of Imodium, so now he was on Lomotil and a round of Cipro.   Sunday morning, July 18, we were to be picked up at 8am to visit the Temple of Heaven before driving to the airport.  Mark had yogurt for breakfast and decided to skip the temple tour.  I met John and he took me to Mass at the nearby St Joseph’s Catholic Church instead.  We got there in time for the proper of the Mass and missed the Chinese homily.  Perfect.  The church was several hundred years old and in excellent condition.  It was immediately next door to a row of fancy stores with high end names like Bally, Gucci, Armani, Boss, etc.  I loved the juxtaposition of the ancient next to the super contemporary.  Back at the hotel, Mark was managing ok so we headed for the airport.  Once there we said goodbye to John and the driver and got through check in and security smoothly only to learn that our flight was delayed an hour and a half.  No problem for me as it gave me more time to write.  A western looking gentleman sitting next to Mark struck up a conversation and we soon learned he was from San Ramon.  The two of them chatted while I wrote.  The airport, by the way, is the most futuristic and spacious airport facility we have ever been in.  In addition to beautiful, it is very quiet, well lit, has good air flow and multiple levels to increase efficiency.   John told us it was designed by a British company and that the exterior was intended to resemble a dragon’s back and, from a distance, it does.  Finally we boarded and were off the ground by 2:30 after being at the airport since 10:30.   Once we were above the smog and haze, mountains to the southwest of Beijing came into full view, wish I knew what they are called.  Dark green timber against a light green backdrop of grasses was such a change from the landscape in Mongolia and my past experience of treeless landscapes in Yunnan Province and eastern China. Immediately west of the mountains, there appeared countless small farms as far as I could see from 30,000 feet.  Roads connected small and large villages.  We must have been flying over a major food supply area near the Yellow River drainage.  Gradually the sky clouded over and we landed in Xian without seeing it.

Our new guide, Frank, walked us through the rain to our driver and unremarkable vehicle.  It took an hour to get into the city proper and Frank filled us in on lots of details.  But….more later….

…..It is late on July 18 in Xian, time to quit and send this to you.  In case any of you are concerned, Mark is improving and I am nearly back to normal.  Just had a meal our stomachs understand and now a good night’s sleep should fix the problem.

I must be tired as I think I have just merges messages 4 and 5 and can’t remember what I have sent and what I have not.   If you receive a duplication of part of the story, please blame the computer.  I will start with message 6 next time.  Julia

Our new guide, Frank, walked us through the rain to our driver and unremarkable vehicle.  It took an hour to get into the city proper and Frank filled us in on lots of details.  But….more later….

…..It is late on July 18 in Xian, time to quit and send this to you.  In case any of you are concerned, Mark is improving and I am nearly back to normal.  Just had a meal our stomachs understand and now a good night’s sleep should fix the problem.

I must be tired as I think I have just merges messages 4 and 5 and can’t remember what I have sent and what I have not.   If you receive a duplication of part of the story, please blame the computer.  I will start with message 6 next times.  Julia

July 21, 2010

Yangshou Resort

Yangshou (a town 1-hour from Guilin), China

What you read above is all there is since we arrived in Xian.  Between trying to recover from being sick, running all over Xian with Frank and struggling to send message 4 & 5 to one whole group of you, we have now arrived in Guilin with nothing new written.  The good news is we are feeling almost normal again and I got the message off to the rest of you piece meal.  Sure hope you all received it.

So, back we go to Xian on July 18.  Frank was a very interesting guide.  He spoke the best English of all our guides so far and was very knowledgeable, if a bit full of himself.  His statistics were so different than John’s that I am not sure what to believe.  Mark thinks I should get the stats over the net when we get home.  They will probably be much more accurate.  The personal side was more interesting anyway.  He and his wife of 3 years live in a 3-bedroom apartment on the 18^th floor of a new high rise apartment building.  He and his wife and both sets of parents pooled their money for them to get a 3 bedroom 110 meter unit free of debt.   The 70 year rule applies to them as well and they also think the government will make some changes before the 70 years are up.  He also has a younger brother, which was against the law.  His parents wanted the second child so much that they paid a $3000 fine in 1985 when the second child was born.  Mark and I both think his parents were pretty well off to be willing and able to pay such a fine, which was very high for those days.  Unfortunately, we did not learn the amount they paid for the apartment.  He also thinks the government is very corrupt and makes fun of the situation.  He believes 99% of all government politicians are corrupt.  He had some interesting comments about capitalism vs. communism in China.  The government has decided to allow capitalism to develop until there is less poverty and the whole society is in a better place.  Then, said Frank, the government will abruptly go back to communism as that is the philosophy they really believe is better for everyone.   As far as we can tell, however, the genie is out of the bottle in a big way and we don’t see how the government will ever be able to stuff it back in again.

Meanwhile, Xian has become a city of 8 million people since it was a nowhere village in 1981.  The Terra Cotta Warriors definitely put Xian on the tourist map, but the real growth has been in industry and the exploration and exploitation of natural resources in the region including petrochemicals, iron and coal.  The air was almost as bad as in Beijing.   It was amazing to see so many foreign companies in the area—BMW, Mercedes, Buick, McDonald’s, KFC, Papa John’s Pizza.  Before arriving at our hotel, Frank took up onto the City walls, which date back to the 6^th Century and encircle the city in an 8 mile square, 2 miles on a side.  It was raining and the visibility was less than a mile so we did not stay long, but it was good to get a sense of the city from the top of the wall, about 100 feet above the street.  There was clearly a height restriction inside the walls, none outside and unchecked growth upward and outward.   Finally we arrive at the Sofitel and bid Frank good evening.  We were ready for a shower, a meal we could understand and some quiet time as our bodies were still not quite back to normal.  We had several non-Chinese options and chose…that other noodle… pasta.   The rain had stopped so we walked a bit around the hotel.  The cars, lights and night life in the city are more like New York or Vegas than the middle of China—or so I had thought.  The growth here in the heart of the country still has me in shock.  I am beginning to see how China is now the largest user of energy in the world.  We are seeing the news about the flooding in the Yangtze River area, how the 3 Gorges Dam is doing its job and about the 34 million people affected. Not to sound blasé about it, we can appreciate the Chinese perspective, that it is not so many people.

On the morning of the 19^th we are feeling pretty good and ready to visit the Qin Shi Tomb Army of 206BC.   First, however, Frank took us to the Tang Dynasty Great Goose Pagoda, built in 652AD to house the Sutras, or sacred Buddhist writings, the monk Xuanzang brought back from India after a long and colorful journey.  It is tipping about 3 degrees and often called the Pisa of the East.  We were quite hot by the end of that tour and glad to get back in the car.  We declined a full lunch and instead went directly to the Tea House at the Warrior Museum.   I had a simple ham and cheese sandwich, while Mark ordered Ramen noodle soup in a large paper cup.  It was served so hot he burnt the top of his mouth.  My tea came the same way and I burnt my lip.  Aren’t we a pair?

I am sure that most of you have heard of the Terra Cotta Warriors so I will not bore you with too many details, except to say there are 3 pits open to the public.  The first and largest contains over 6,000 infantry and horses and horses in battle formation under one clear span, domed roof.  More of them are unrestored than restored much to my disappointment.  The second pit is filled with cavalry and soldiers.  This pit was not damaged in 206BC so the figures are not in such bad shape.  Still, most have not been uncovered.  Once it was realized that exposure to air ruined the color very quickly, it was decided not to uncover more until an airtight process is worked out.   The third pit contains 70 officers and some horses and seems to be the command center.  Although the warrior bodies have only a handful of costumes, each face is unique and has an individually crafted expression.

What surprised me was that very little has happened since 1979.  The government put a stop to any more excavations or restorations, except to finish building the structures that enclose them, until very recently.  Restoration has now begun again inside the exposed pits.  We saw more warriors under various stages of restoration.  Many more pits have been catalogued and opened enough to determine what is in them and immediately recovered to keep them from exposure to air.  The warriors were originally painted in brilliant color, which fades in only a week once exposed to air.  Apparently a good amount if information is known, but being withheld from the public.  The story Frank told us about Qin, was that he committed suicide unintentionally by slowly consuming mercury over a period of time under the belief, given to him by the Daoist monks he retained, that mercury would make him immortal.  He died at the age of 49 with most of his afterlife plans completed.  According to historical sources, his afterlife empire contained a floor cut by rivers of mercury beneath a ceiling of pearls representing the night sky.  In addition to the mercury there may be trap or trick entrances.   If so, that would explain why the tomb has been only partially excavated.  I wonder when we will have the technology to see underground clearly without having to dig things up.  The Chinese believe that this is the largest, 56+ hectares and most complete tomb in the world.  The other bit of info I had missed was that the Han Dynasty, which followed Qin immediately after his death in 206BC, wasted no time opening the Terra Cotta Warrior Pit 1, breaking the infantry to bits and setting the pit on fire.  What a day it will be when we get to see what is in the tomb and other pits.  Even though I remembered parts of our 1981 visit, it was really wonderful to see it all again and the new tourist aspects that have been added.  A newer Exhibition Hall on site presents many details up close, well lit and explained in English.  We were at the site for almost 4 hours, including the time we spent in the tourist store looking at warriors, happy Buddha’s and other stuff we did not need.  It was close, but we managed to get away without buying anything.

Back in the city, over an hour later, we drove to the Great Mosque built in 742 during the Tang dynasty.  It is a Chinese style mosque, built when Islam was a young religion.  Set in the midst of a busy, noisy, Muslim neighborhood, it is a tranquil place with 4 courtyards, many wooden Qing era buildings and a short, octagonal pagoda for a minaret.  Of much more interest to us was the neighborhood.  Teeming with people, the alleyways contained vendors hawking every imaginable item, especially food cooked to order.  The smells were marvelous even though we knew better than to try anything.  We both took lots of photos until we had to find a place we could eat too.   Frank took us into “the best dumpling restaurant” in Xian, where we ordered 2 set meals which include one of every kind of dumpling available, plus a large plate of the staple food of Xian, boiled dumplings.  Having just recovered our stomachs, we were not too sure about what we were getting into, but once the food came and we had a beer in hand, we were fine.  I actually liked the boiled dumplings the best.  Next time I will just order them.  Desert, as everywhere we have been, was delicious, cold watermelon.   It was a long, but interesting and fun day.  Back at the Sofitel, we both crashed.

Up early on the 21^st, Frank wanted to give us as much time as possible in the Shaanxi History Museum before heading to the airport.  It was not on our itinerary, but some of you had recommended the Museum so strongly we asked Frank to add it and we are really glad we did.  We were at the door when it opened at 8:30am and already there was a long line of people waiting to get the free, but required, tickets.  Frank took us in through the gift shop to skip the crowds.  What a delightful museum!  Mood lighting accented the well displayed items in chronological sequence from pre-history through the Tang Dynasty until Xian began to decline as the Ming Dynasty gained ground in Beijing.  The Tang-dynasty section contained the original three-color polychrome earthenware Sancai Horse that is so often reproduced and other wonderful pottery pieces.  There is an excellent section on the Terra Cotta Warriors that includes items that are not at the Qin Tomb site, especially the 2 exquisite ½-life size bronze chariots, each drawn by 4 horses.  There were also a few tantalizing pieces from pits that have not been opened to the public, including a bronze swan, a terra cotta acrobat and a coat of armor made of linked stones—can’t imagine who would wear it.   We made it through the museum with the crowds, thankfully, behind us and were about to pass out through the gift shop, when Frank had a sales person present me with a mahjong set.   I had mentioned that I played the game and would like to find an old set if possible, but had totally forgotten my comment.  He had not.  Now I have a 50-60 year old set to carry home with all the rest of the stuff we have purchased.    I asked Frank about scoring and he admitted that, although he played the game, he did not know how to score.  Well, mahjong ladies, we know have one more set, but no improved info on scoring.

Our flight to Guilin was on time and uneventful, except for the view of the flooded Yangtze River drainage as we flew over it.  The water was muddy brown everywhere.  We were met by Michael, our third and final Chinese guide.  He was a sweet and gentle man we liked right away.  On the 1 ½ hour drive to the hotel, we talked a lot about him and asked the same questions we had asked John and Frank.  Unlike them, Michael is less well-healed.  He, his wife and child live in a small two-room apartment, which they rent from the government.  He is a free-lance guide like the other two.  His wife is a school teacher and they live in Guilin.  When we told him about the others, he admitted that there was a time during the few years before 9/11 during which the guiding business was very lucrative and it was easy to make and save good money.  While others were cashing in, he and his wife spent those years as volunteers for Doctors without Borders.   Once he went back to guiding, tourism had collapsed and he was barely making ends meet.  Business is somewhat better now, but not as before.  He said he has no regrets, however, as he liked the volunteer work and wants to do it again in 10 years or so after he retires.   His comments on politics were more personal.  He said he can talk all he wants about the system and the government to anyone, as long as he does not take any action.  He has no illusions about life in China, but, since there is nothing he can do about it, he, like the other guides, puts on a smile and goes about his business.  He hopes democracy and freedom will come to China during his lifetime.   We hope with him.

The weather in Guilin is 36 Celsius; just as hot and humid as Beijing.  We have not gotten used to it.   We have a mini-van for the Guilin area and a cute 27-year old driver with a baby face.   He cannot understand a word of English, but he smiles often and is very obliging.  Within a short distance from the airport we see our first karst tree covered hills I have seen so often in photographs and Chinese art.  Even though the sky is hazy and partially overcast, the landscape met my expectations.  The closer we got to Guilin the more hills we saw.  The small valleys between the hills are very lush and full of ripening rice.  People are working everywhere in the fields and the scene provides the image of rural Chine I imagine it was for centuries.   I can’t help myself and take numerous photos from the road.  Late in the afternoon we arrive at our hotel on the banks of the Yulong River near the outskirts of the small town of Yangshou.  Our room overlooked the river, hotel gardens and a huge swimming pool, the first we have seen on this trip.  Hot and tired, we went directly to the pool and let our bodies sizzle in the not very cold, but rejuvenating water.   We had the night off and were glad to have no agenda.  It was 8pm before we went to find some dinner.  We had been told there were a Chinese and a “western” restaurant in the hotel.  The western restaurant was located outdoors by the river, but there was no one there when we arrived and the menu looks pretty sparse.   So we went to the Chinese Restaurant, which had only  4 groups including us, and had a disappointing mix of Chinese dishes.  Never mind, we were glad not to go out, and happy to spend the evening in our very nice room.  Wi-Fi works in the room and I can write as late as I want.

Breakfast on July 22 is no better than dinner in our hotel.  We eat the yogurt, fruit and toast.  Mark said even the bacon was cold.  Anyway, we are excited to be out at 8am for our long awaited boat ride on the Li River.  Michael has arranged a ride for us where tourists don’t go and is, according to him, even more scenic.  He was right on both counts.  We had a wonderful float down the Li River from Yangshou.  We stopped at the old traditional village of Fuli, which contained mostly old people and a few small children.  Many buildings had been abandoned and the occupied ones looked very dilapidated.  Michael told us, the few young men and women had gone to big cities to work and would send money home when they could.  Meanwhile, the grandparents took care of the children.  He thought the town would die within 20 years when the old people were gone.  There would be nothing worth saving.  We were clearly the only visitors in the very picturesque town and were able to go slowly and take a number of photos.  Back on the River we continued downstream to the village of Liu Gong, also old, but with a mix of new unfinished brick buildings.  Because of the new construction, Michael believed the young people would eventually finish the houses and move back into them when they raised enough money.   This town was not as interesting and we encountered one group of tourists.  Michael also took us on a hike to see three different colored ponds.  The hike was very hot and the three ponds were the same color—a bust in our book.  I would have preferred to boat back upriver, but our van met us at the edge of the village and took us back to our hotel.  This time we went to the “western” restaurant, ordered beer and a ham and cheese sandwich and went directly into the river for a swim there.  The water was a tiny bit cooler than the pool and we were eye level with bamboo rafts floating down river with Chinese tourists sitting on bamboo chairs under large, colorful umbrella’s with a boat man polling each one.  They were thoroughly enjoying themselves and so were we.  Lunch arrived; we split what came and then spent more time in the pool.  Finally cooled off, we returned to the room to read, write and get ready for an evening in town.  We had a good Chinese meal, selected by Michael and then, in a light rain, went to the Liu Sanjie Evening Show just south of town on the Li River bank in what is for sure one of the world’s largest natural amphitheaters.  Earlier in the morning we had passed the theater and knew the place was huge.  In the evening we were surrounded by thousands of boisterous Chinese pressing to get into the theater all at once.  Fortunately, we had assigned seats so we did not rush.  At the entrance, plastic rain ponchos were passed out to each ticket holder in case it really rained hard.  Clearly, the show would go on regardless.  Our seats were wet, but Michael had come prepared and pulled a towel out of his bag.  He told us what to expect on the program, advised us to stay seated until he came to get us and then disappeared.   We felt impressed and pampered.  The cast consisted of over 500 singers and dancers.  There were many bamboo boats, cormorant birds and even water buffalo.   The program was designed and directed by the same man who created the 2008 Olympics, so you can appreciate that it was a first rate production.  The set included the karst hills on both sides of the river in a roughly U shape and were stunning when lit up at the beginning of the program.  Lighted Bamboo rafts glided on the river from every direction and angle depending on the act.  The costumes were very colorful and interesting.  One costume was lit from within and could be turned on or off and into a second set of colors.  There were at least 150 or more people in such costumes and they made a spectacular display.  My favorite act was the sudden appearance of bright red fabric shimmering on the water in 3-400 foot long, 4-foot wide strips lifted by people on bamboo rafts, linked together.  There must have been 15-20 rows of fabric and the bamboo people shifted back and forth raising and lowering the fabric in a variety of patterns.  It is very had to describe, but was beautiful to watch.  We loved the performance.  We hated the Chinese audience.   I had forgotten that they talk all the time during a performance, making it hard to hear the singers, and never clap.  It must be distressing to be a performer.   Michael thought they were that way because no one taught them any different behavior.  Hmmm.  Luckily, the rain never materialized and we returned to the hotel having experienced a very satisfying day.

July 23, 2010

This was exercise day.  We met Michael at 7am and headed to town for a bike ride.  Along the way, we encountered a funeral procession, so stopped to watch the firecrackers and the lion dancers drive away evil spirits while the casket was carried down the road. Men lighting many rounds of firecrackers lead the way, followed by white clad family members, assisted by friends, walking backwards, falling to their knees every few feet.  Then came two Chinese lion dancers, like one’s we see on Chinese New Year, who performed a wild dance around the casket.  Behind the casket came drummers, cymbal clangors and more friends and neighbors.  It was quite a production.  Our timing was perfect and we watched for about 20 minutes as they carried on down the street.

One of the benefits of traveling on our own is an event, like the funeral, that just appears unexpectedly.  We can choose to make digressions without worrying about a group itinerary or time table.  By 8am we had 8-speed mountain bikes and helmets and were headed out of town on a side street with little traffic.  We rode through rice fields in every phase of growth from fallow land to harvesting.  We rode through villages and around karst hills and stopped to take lots of photos.  As long as we peddled, we had a cool breeze.  It felt good to be doing something physical, besides walking.  After we finished the bike ride, Michael took us to a karst cave system called Watercave.  The karst hills are extremely porous and rocky so there are caves everywhere, although few are developed for viewing.  At Watercave we donned hard hats and climbed into a boat on a small lake at the entrance to the cave.  The boat man pulled us into the cave by a series of ropes attached to the ceiling of the cave.   Once a few hundred feet inside, the lake was too shallow to continue so we got out and hiked half a mile or more up, under, around and through many different stalactite and stalagmite formations, banging our hard hats on the low formations all along the way.  We were really glad we had them and that we did not have to get on our hands and knees.  The cave had been found about 20 years ago by a European backpacker and then been developed by some Chinese businessmen.  Two young female guides accompanied us with large flashlights and pointed out a variety of interesting formations and shapes.  Between their torches and the intermittent lighting set up inside the cave, we never felt claustrophobic; with nearly 100% humidity inside the cave, we did not feel cool either.   Once at the far end, we had to retrace our steps.  This time we had a better sense of how low the passages were and scratched our hard hats only a few times.    Having had enough hot humid activity for the day, we drove back to town and talked Michael into joining us for pizza.  He refused the beer, however, so we drank it.  We were very ready for a swim by then so we headed back to the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking in the cool water, doing laundry and writing.  Back to town in the evening for the local dining specialty, beer fish, which was very tasty, if a bit boney, we walked around the pedestrian streets of town mostly watching the thousands of Chinese tourists on holiday as they window shopped in the many open stores, restaurants, bars, karaoke clubs and ice cream parlors.    We too bought Italian Gelato ice cream cones and slurped our way down the street.  Eventually we had had enough, called our driver and headed home for the night.

On the 23^rd we drive to the village of Longshen.

More from there if they have wi-fi and we have time.   Julia

July 24, 2010

Lian Lodge, Ping An, China

I forgot to mention that at dinner in Yengshou the evening of the 22^nd, Mark and I decided to try the local snake wine.  We had purchased a bottle of it when we were in Vietnam several years ago, but have never opened it.  Michael suggested we try it without seeing the bottle first.  So we said ok.  We only have a few days left and we have already recovered from the tourist bug, so why not.  Well, it tastes about as awful as you might expect, although wedid not get any sense of “snake”, whatever that might be.  One sip each was enough.   One more thing we can check off our list of things to try once.

On the morning of the 23^rd we departed Yengshou and drove north along a beautiful stretch of highway with karst hills along both sides of the road. After about an hour we pulled into a 1500 acre park called Yuzi Paradise.  We had no idea what to expect, but found ourselves being driven around in a golf cart and viewing exquisitely manicured grounds with huge sculptures placed strategically into the landscape.  This was an extra that Asia Transpacific Journeys included and we loved it.  In addition to the outdoor sculpture, we visited an exhibition hall and saw many more pieces of first rate art.  Apparently over 150 artists have been commissioned to exhibit their work by the owner/developer of the project.  He is a wealthy Taiwanese who looked all over Asia for the perfect place to create a sculpture park and settled on the karst landscape near Guilin, much to our delight.

Back on the highway, we bypassing Guilin and gradually began to climb into the mountains.  The road narrowed and became very curvy with trees, creeks and hillsides encroaching close to the pavement—very much like Hwy 49 near Downieville.  As we came around a turn we encountered a large truck that had just swerved into the concrete drainage ditch to avoid hitting, unsuccessfully, other cars that had stopped because of an accident further up the road.  Our driver had been going slow enough to avoid the pileup.  It looked like we were in for a long wait, but our driver managed to get the van turned around and, not far back down the hill, he took a side road.  It was even narrower and curvier.  Michael said it was the old highway and would serve us well in this situation.  We reached Rongshui River Valley, 850 meters above Guilin, only 10 minutes later than we would have without the detour.  We had to pay a fee to enter the valley, one of many we have paid to travel on toll roads, enter tourist areas or even to enter some towns and villages.  Chinese tourists pay these fees as well as us foreigners.   Upon entering the valley, we were in the township or county of Longsheng.  We stopped to drop off our big suitcases at a prearranged farm house where we encountered people from the two minority groups who inhabit the area and retain their own customs and costumes. The road continued up several steep switchback turns for a couple more miles to a large car park where we had to leave the car and continue on foot roughly 30-40 minutes to our lodge, which was a good 400 feet or more above the car park.  Michael hired two Zhuang women porters to carry our small bags.  They promptly stuffed them into bamboo baskets and headed up the hill.  Later, when we were only half way up, we saw them headed back down with empty baskets.  I had expected, romantically, that we would be walking up narrow rice terrace paths, but found ourselves in a crowd of Chinese tourists also heading up the hill on a wide concrete path packed with vendors on both sides.  We no sooner started out when several sedan chair proprietors wanted us to use their services.  Mark wanted no part of them at first, but I suggested we take a ride in them as it would probably be the only chance we would ever have and, I argued, they looked like they needed the work.  He finally agreed and soon we were settled into two chairs.  It was a pretty comfortable ride, but it was hard to watch them strain to carry our weight.  About a third of the way up the hill, the path crosses a bridge and turns to steps.  We stopped them there.  The vendors also stopped at the bridge.   The rest of the walk was more picturesque as we passed among the wooden houses of the village, called Ping An.  Soon we were at the top of the village and the entrance to Lian Lodge, our home for the next two nights.  High up on the mountainside, our room looked out over spectacularly terraced rice fields and the tree covered mountains on the other side of the canyon.   The lodge served us a late lunch and we happily retired to our room to enjoy the view, the quiet and the rest.  We learned that the area was settled by the Yao and the Zhuang people about 500 years ago.  It took them 400 years to complete the stone terracing and bamboo irrigation system.  Since then the villagers have maintained the fields and irrigation canals and, in the fallow season, spent their time repairing eroded terraces.  In addition to rice, they grow corn, sweet potatoes and chili peppers, as they like their food spicy.   After dinner we watched a film made by the lodge owner about the rice terraces with the only other guests, another rare American couple.  We enjoyed a very quiet night with only the sound of rain, which let up by morning.

Michael arrived at our doorstep at 9am on the 24^th and off we went on a 2 ½ hour hike up, around and through the rice fields.  We were early enough to miss the tourists who come up the hill on day trips from Guilin and enjoyed a peaceful morning.  At one point we encountered five Yao women who wanted us to buy their “handmade” wares.  After much discussion, I finally selected a small runner that looked like it might be homemade.  Most of their merchandise was definitely not.  After we settled on the price, I asked if they would let down their hair, which is uniquely long.  So, they all did.  Their hair fell to below their knees and was a course, shiny black.  When they let it down, two additional bundles of equally long hair fell out.  It turns out Yao women cut their hair once when they are 17 to signify adulthood and save that hair.  After that, when they comb their hair, they collect the strands that fall out into another bundle.  Once we had taken several photos, they put their hair back together in the traditional style and began to sing.  Michael said they always sing when they do their hair. It was a double treat for us as we made a video of them singing.  The whole morning was delightful , even with 2-3 intermittent showers and the usual overcast sky.  After lunch we went out again in a different direction for a walk to a nearby old Zhaung village called Longji.  As we entered the village we passed by a large hall with a very noisy party in progress.  Apparently it is common in the countryside for families to celebrate the first month of a baby’s life by inviting family and friends to celebrate.  The host family provides a huge meal with the expectation that the guests give money.  The process is repeated when the child turns one year old and again when he or she gets married.  Later in the day, there will be lots of fire crackers set off.   We walked into the center of the village encountering no tourists or vendors and found a group of old men watching a man repairing woks.  Using a small bellows, he heated coal in a small clay pot until it was hot enough to melt some iron filings.  Then he poured the molten iron onto the wok near the hole and, using clay as a back stop, worked with it until the hole was gone and the iron solidified.   Michael explained that the huge woks being repaired were for cooking food for pigs, not for people.  The villagers believe that pigs will grow bigger and faster if they eat cooked rather than raw food.  While Mark supervised the wok repair, I sat down with Michael to learn to play a card game that is often used to replace mahjong tiles because it is easy to transport, is not noisy and can be played anywhere, even on the ground.  I got some of the rudiments of the game and bought a deck, but the characters are in Chinese and I do not have them all memorized.  We photographed the cards in sequence to help me remember and Michael promised to email the directions in English.  The cards only set me back 5 Yuan.  The sun had finally broken through the overcast and we had a steep, hot and steamy hike uphill to Ping An, and our room.  The shower was most needed and refreshing.

In all the minority mountain villages, the houses are made of Chinese fir boards, the product of a local tree.  They are very pretty, two-three story buildings that are built without the use of nails and are stained or oiled a natural tone.  Our lodge was built in this style and was very attractive.  The 16 rooms are small, but comfortable and charming.  Each is decorated differently.  We were in “Double Happiness”, which was painted red and contained a king size bed and just enough room to walk around it.

The lodge was full by evening with Europeans and a family from Argentina.  A couple of scotches and we were happy campers, never mind that I seemed to be catching a cold.  The lodge energy settled down about 10:30 and we enjoyed our last night in the countryside.

July 26, 2010

Airport Crowne Plaza Hotel, Beijing

Our last full day in China, July 25, we said our goodbyes to the lodge staff and were headed down the steps with Michael by 8am.  This time, the weather was sunny and the walk down the mountain pleasant and photogenic.  Between the rain and the crowds we had missed a lot on the way up.  We stopped several times to look at the minority peoples textiles and found a couple of things that appealed.

Back at the car, we retraced our steps back to Guilin and were in the city by 11am.  The driver took us directly to Fubo Hill in the middle of the city and next to the Li River to see hundreds of Buddha images carved into the open cave walls during the sung dynasty 1000 years ago.  The oldest Buddha’s were very different in appearance and, to me, more appealing than the images we see in most places.   In addition there were many poems and writings that have been carved into the walls over the centuries by famous Chinese people.  One might call it old graffiti.  Guilin was very hot and humid compared to the cooler mountains around Ping An.  We were melting.  Michael suggested we have the local specialty for lunch—rice noodles.  Mark said only if the place had AC.  Well, the best rice noodles in town are served at the Chinese version of a fast food joint, which had a fan but no AC.  We went anyway.   You go through a line and select the toppings you want on the noodles and add as much chili as you want.  The food came very fast and we loved it.  Mark sat under the fan.  I wanted more, but was too hot and full to have seconds.    The best AC was in the van so back in it we drove to another cave called Reed Flute Cave.  Nearly every Karst hill has a cave as they are rather like rocky Swiss cheese at this stage of their evolution.  Dozens have been opened to the public.  Reed Flute Cave is the most famous.  It has been visited by Nixon, Clinton and Bush and now us.  The cave has several very large caverns and winds more than 1600 feet into and under the hill.  It is well presented and lit a bit too colorfully with neon lights.  Apparently, the cave provided a hiding place for over 2000 people during the Japanese invasion in the 40’s.  The entrance was covered with reeds and effectively invisible to the Japanese.

With time to spare, Michael suggested we visit the Chinese Pearl Museum, which is really a pearl jewelry factory with a very large showroom.  I went right for the best and selected a beautiful pearl choker.  The $84,000+ price burst that bubble and we walked out.  Fortunately, I had had no time to build any expectations.  According to the information we received, the Chinese pearls are much better than Japanese pearls—something about not being polished and having natural luster that lasts longer.  I doubt I could tell one from the other, but there were no Japanese pearls around to make the comparison.

Then we went to the University Art Museum, where professional and student art is on display and available for sale.  That was more up our alley and we found a piece to add to our collection for a pittance, compared to the pearls.

Finally we headed to the airport and said goodbye to the driver, whose name we never did get, and Michael.  We both voted him the best guide we have had anywhere in our years of traveling and told him so.  We hope to stay in touch.  If any of you are ever planning to go to the Guilin area, please let us hook you up with him.

We arrived at the Beijing Airport Crowne Plaza around 9:45pm, had a bite to eat in the hotel, showered and went to bed exhausted.

Now, at 9am on July 26^th, as I sit in the room writing these last words of our Mongolian/China adventures, I can say that it has been an interesting, educational and satisfying experience that I would strongly recommend with very few changes.  Asia TransPacific really did provide us with superior service and excellent selections to match our requests and needs.  At this point, however, we are glad to be headed home and wish we could beam ourselves there rather than live through the next 24+ hours of travel.

See you all very soon, Julia