Thursday dawned Very early for us - 5am. We checked out at 6, and were at the station to catch the 7.15 to Beijing.
We thought we had a cab booked through the desk, but as so often in this supposed 4 star hotel, nobody booked it, despite assuring us the night before. Anyhow another was called, and the driver knew all the major potholes, at one point driving on the wrong side to avoid a particularly nasty one. I should point out that this is not unusual in UB traffic.
As we sit in the station, all packed into our compartments all you can hear is a recital of coughs and sneezes.
Most of us probably arrived fit and well, (though not us - see later) but a mix of freezing mornings, hot middays, and pollution has taken its toll. There was still snow on the ground in shady corners, (its not winter yet!) and when the wind blew it cut through you, but with blue skies and intense sun you felt overdressed very quickly, until the next shady corner.
A city of sharp contrasts, and that sums up Ulaanbaatar very neatly for me. The growing middle class and the very poor.
Because we both had nasty colds, Merryn caught hers on the train from Moscow, from someone we believe in a Scandinavian party (they all seemed to be sneezing), then I caught mine from her, consequently we had an easy day on the Monday. We also had a chance to sample Mongolian medecine. We needed something to ease the symptoms of the flu/colds and visited a pharmacy (with a little note in Mongolian from the hotel desk). We left the pharmacy with a packet of pills, the only recognizable thing about the packet was a drawing of someone sneezing, and instructions (in sign language) from the pharmacist to take two at a time.
The pharmacy (and the bank) were in this row of shops just up from our hotel
Whatever was in those pills worked like a charm. We went back the next day and bought several packets!
(from France December: We brought some back to France, and used the last few to remove the symptoms of a nasty cough and cold I caught when we got home. Fantastic stuff!
Tuesday and Wednesday were the big days.
First to the Buddhist temple museum. It is one of the two Buddhist temple complexes to have survived the destruction of 1937, the other was the monastery we visited on Wednesday, but more of that later.
Main gate of the Buddhist museum
Not a history lesson, but by way of explanation, Mongolia has suffered quite a lot over the past 300 years. First the Chinese invaded and it became a province, then at beginning of the 20th century Russia took an interest, and "freed" Mongolia from Chinese rule, of course replacing it with Russian influence. Then came the revolution, and the country became a soviet republic, with support from a large proletariat who embraced communism as a means to free themselves from the ruling elite. The monks still had a great deal of influence. but in 1937, the great purge began. The party was cleansed and the monasteries destroyed. Hundreds of thousands of monks were killed or made to renounce Buddhism. The civilian population were re-educated, or killed, land was confiscated.
The city of Ulaanbaatar was razed (to be rebuilt in the correct way), and two of the few buildings to remain relatively intact were what is now the museum, and the monastery. Reasons? Well the then country's leader had a soothsayer who warned that because of its power, there would be dire consequences if the temple complex, which is now the museum, was destroyed. It was never re-opened as a temple complex, but became a repository for what was saved from the rest of the country.
What is now the only practising monastery in Ulaanbaatar survived because Russian troops needed somewhere to stable their horses. It was reopened (in a very limited capacity) in the late 1940s after a visiting US dignitary asked to see where the people were able to practice their traditional faith! The artefacts had been destroyed and some temples razed, but it reopened. This monastery we visited on Wednesday.
So that is the very potted recent history, which I am somewhat ashamed to admit I didn't know, however it is significant in understanding what we have seen. History lesson over - apologies if you knew some of this already. We had our lesson in the history of 1937, simply by asking how the museum complex survived the religious purge.
Ulaanbaatar is a city of great contrasts, the temple museum we went to is isolated from the rest of the city by building sites, constructing new high rises.
One of the temples in the museum complex.
The museum itself was fascinating, and housed some beautiful artefacts. There were 5 Temples in the complex, all in varying states of decay.
Inside the main building. I found the inside of this and the other temples quite stifling.
Then we went to the museum of Political Oppression (it's real name escapes me as I write this). The museum is in a very rundown building almost next to the temple museum. The building was the home of the president at the time of the purge by the right in 1937. He was arrested and killed, the museum was by opened by his daughter after the collapse of the communist state.
Like the similar museum we went to in Moscow, it left you a little in despair at humanity. We were the only visitors, and the cleaner, an old man with a straw broom came into the room we were in and made the sign for insanity. I was reminded of the old woman in Moscow.
The museum is the country in microcosm, the building is very rundown, but the front courtyard is filled with used Humvies being sold by the neighbouring dealer. Humvies are BIG american military style 4WD. It seems the majority of vehicles in UB are big 4WD. You need them to navigate the city's roads, but it makes crossing the road a little exciting, red lights don't seem to mean a great deal, and the traffic cops with their whistles and red batons just seem to be looking the other way at the time.
Museum carpark. The state of the pavement was not unique - rubble and rubbish seems dumped everywhere.
Next day, Wednesday, to the Gandan Buddhist monastery, where there are some 600 monks.
It's at the end of what looks on the map to be a wide, almost ceremonial tree lined boulevard with central walkway.
It may have started that way, but now it's a broken potholed path with the usual open sewers bordered by dead trees and lined with broken lights. At some point in time someone (the city authorities?) had dug up a couple of spots and just left the soil piled up on the path. The whole mess ran through one of the cities rougher areas with shacks on either side and piles of rubbish.
Everyone has to live somewhere, and being poor is no crime, but this total lack of respect by either the city or the population (or both) for such a sacred site, is inexcusable.
Main gate to the Gandan Monastery
The monastery itself was impressive, a little the worse for wear, but being repaired. It also houses a Buddhist university. And is home to the cities pigeon population! The main temple in the complex houses a statue of Buddha 4 stories high, a replacement for the original destroyed in 1937. The statue surrounded by prayer wheels being turned by the constant stream of devotees.
The monks all looked well fed, although a little out of tune.
I think I have gone on a little long, but it's a country that fascinates, such is the massive transition. However, it is a country in thrall to western entrepreneurs and those Mongolians who took advantage of the collapse of the state and social structures when communism collapsed, as in Russia. The country also lost economic support from Russia after the USSR collapsed.
Consequently there seems to be no control of development, or its effects on the infrastructure. The city is a mess, public utilities don't seem to work, public transport is chaotic and rundown. The parks and gardens are a mess, everything seems dead, there is rubble and garbage in many.
The pavements are either broken up, or simply rubble, many of the sewers are open (dry thankfully), and used by the city's homeless - warm in winter..
We just crossed the Mongolian desert, and the same is apparent in the way mining is going on. Small scale open cut using diggers. When the ore has been scraped out, the spoil is left in heaps and the holes left open. The workers live in Ger camps. Yurt is the Russian word for the tents.
All that said, I wouldn't have missed it.
We are now in China (at the border) having our wheels changed to Chinese guage. With the authorities and the wheel change, it's going to be a long night.
Beijing tomorrow afternoon. I will file this from there.
