back to yin yang bus adventure

Here is some of the fancy trim that the women put on jackets for their men. This is Uranchimeg's husband driving us to and across the river on his ox-cart. SS The last day of the Terelj Park trip was for me the best, mostly because we were leaving, but also I made friends with Mr. Bolt and we had fun chopping wood, smoking cigarettes and hanging out after the younger guys worked the horses.
I must say that the ger-to-ger adventure was not all bad It's just that my personality is such that I don't like imposing. In China everyone makes you feel like they want you there and are glad that you came. In Mongolia you don't get that feeling. Now here, we were supposed to stay with folks on their land, eat food prepared by them,carry on obligitory conversations about how old you are and what your hobbies are, and all for what? A couple of shekels in their pockets? It seemed demeaning to me and many of their friends thought so as well. Soooooo I was glad to leave. Chacha I think had a much better time.
Our last Ger stay was only 2km from the bus stop that takes us back to Ulaanbaator, we were to have lunch with a woman and her husband then ox cart to the bus stop. Just as we arrive at their Ger another of the weeks thunder storms hits and we are forced to stay inside the leaky Ger for about 4 hours. During this time the small T.V. is playing a Mongolian soap opera. We eat a lovely meal of fried potatoes and carrots, we (I) drink more milk-tea. At some point the husband changes the channel and gets the local news station. There on the screen, in the leaky Ger with the wood stove belching white smoke from the wet wood being burned, we see images of UB (ulaanbaator) in a state of protest. There are tens of thousands of people shouting, there is a heavy police presence, protesters being beaten with batons, bullet holes in the front door of a building. Communication with our hosts is barren but we do understand that what we are seeing is live. We can see the main square where the protest is taking place is only about three blocks from our Hostel, we walk past the square almost everyday when in UB.
The ox cart ride to the bus is pleasant, the bus ride out of the park as the sun is setting against the giant white cumulus clouds is spectacular, but the uneasy feeling that we are headed right into the middle of an angry protest is unsettling. Just outside the boundary of the city we see many police, the bus driver is asked to get off the bus twice and is asked questions by the police. At one point as we near the city a trio of young people board and sit next to us near the back of the bus, one of them has a battery powered T.V. which they are all watching, the volume is high enough that the sound of gunshots can be heard (we learned later these were rubber bullets). To add to the suspense, we had no idea where the bus was going to let us off. For Chacha, her worst nightmare is to have a dental emergency in a third world country, for me it is to be caught in that same country during social unrest (I have no resources).
The last stop was within half-mile from our Hostel and most people on the street seemed to be going about their business as usual so we hoofed it quickly back to the safety of Zayah our Russian/Mongolian landlady. That night, fueled by looted alcohol and pent up rage the protesters burned the Communists Headquarters down and at least 5 people were killed more that 400 wounded in the ensuing battle with police. The Government response was to institute a curfew, during that curfew we were surrounded by Army and Police. The curfew was lifted during the day so we could get a taxi to the airport.
Mongolia is a beautiful place. The people are proud, but lack the tools for 21st century living. They have much to share with the rest of the world, we can only hope they don't self destruct, for it is natural that the vultures will feast.

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