30 Minutes in Mongolia

My long awaited arrival in Beijing was commemorated with friends, hookah and live jazz music in the enchanting and luminescent lake district Hou Hai, near the center of Beijing.

The next day, less than 24 hours from when I arrived in China, my friend, Brandon, and I were preparing for departure; a “Visa Run” to Mongolia!

We made it to the bus station with nearly an hour to spare. Tickets in hand, we each took a seat in the terminal and anxiously awaited the appearance of our overnight bus to Mongolia... We waited, and waited... No bus... A little after our departure time, 17:00, Brandon and I, along with a few Mongolians and Chinese, were corralled by our “bus driver” outside of the station. After the bus driver inspected and counted his passengers, he beckoned us to follow him... Led down back alleys, along and across busy streets, we found ourselves a kilometer from the station, nestled behind large buildings, surrounded by cargo, more people, and three ominous looking buses.

Captivated by the turn of events, my emotions were escalating from excited to sheer euphoria! Although, my cohort was cynical! Time and experience in China had taught him to view such circumstances through a skeptical lens.

After an hour of waiting our bus driver pulled Brandon and I aside and asked to see our tickets. Viewing them with disapproval, he handed us new ones; tickets that were ¥20 cheaper and no longer numerically next to each other. Following a brief exchange in Chinese with Brandon our driver walked away.

Brandon: “we’re gonna get screwed over!”

Me: “what!? why!?”

Brandon: “not for sure... but I think our driver just sold as to another bus company and turned a ¥40 profit in the exchange.”

Me: “he can do that!?”

Brandon shot me a knowing glance...

After another wait we were permitted to board the bus. Our new driver viewed our tickets with a grin, and motioned us to the back of the bus.

Brandon: “I knew it!”

Me: “this is pretty great!”

We stopped midway through the bus at my bunk. I was on the top, by the window.

Me: “this is cozy!” - Said with a smirk; the “bed” was maybe 5’ 10,” my friend is pushing 6’ 3”-ish. However, my comment went unnoticed; Brandon’s eyes were fixed on the back of the bus.

The bus had three rows of bunk-beds running down its length. However, at the very back of the bus there was only one large bed (by large, I mean it was the size of a twin bed turned sideways,) this was meant to be shared by 4 passengers.

Brandon: “No! (followed by a brief torrent of profanity.) I knew this would happen!”

I tracked Brandon’s gaze to the back of the bus where I saw the communal bed which was already being occupied by three very robust and very rugged Mongolian men! As Brandon continued to survey his designated place on the bus, one of the Mongolian men shyly raised his hand and gave Brandon a timid wave accompanied by a smile.

It was too much! Overcome by the comedy of the situation I erupted in a fit of uncontrollable laughter!

Brandon was not well pleased!

After 30 minutes of trying to argue his way out of the quandary, Brandon was forced to accept his fate... Looking back once we had finally started our journey, I saw him snug between two Mongolians, his knees bent into his chest as he tried to fit himself into a bed made for someone half his size... 13 hours later we rolled into the Chinese border city of Erlian.

The bus looked something like this:

We ate a Chinese breakfast at a quaint diner before picking our way to the boarder. Once there, we waited for a certain breed of jeep which holds a monopoly on boarder transit.

Our wait was not long. Soon one of the weary, well used jeeps pulled up... Defying “The Kepler Conjecture” and many other laws pertaining to density, mass, geometry, and space filling, we crammed ourselves into a jeep already laden with baggage and a Mongolian family.

It was cozy!

This is the only picture of me in Mongolia so I had to put it up:

Emulating the actions of the Mongolian family, Brandon and I were able to pass through Chinese and Mongolian customs and turned up an hour or so later in a small Mongolian town a few kilometers from the boarder.

After failed attempts to eat at a restaurant, we conceded to defeat, and purchased a few souvenirs (a can of beer and a box of chocolates) from a grocery store. We then tracked down another one of those infamous jeeps and began our return journey.

Where we bought our "souvenirs":

This jeep, less cared for than its cousin we came on, broke down midway through the boarder crossing... Despite the best efforts of our little driver, the jeep could not be persuaded to move!

The little jeep that couldn't:

Gestured out of the jeep, Brandon and I were handed off to another driver, the Al Capone of boarder transit!!! He sported a leather jacket with the collars turned up and a cigarette pressed between his thin lips... Al Capone was not gifted with patients! When boarder traffic came to a stop he would slam his foot on the accelerator and not so gently smash into the vehicle in front of us! When this did not produce the desired outcome, he would yell out very strong sounding Mongolian words! Then, if pressed, would leave our jeep to physically confront the other drivers! Lord help them!

Al Capone+Jeep+Brandon:

Sometime later we arrived at the Mongolian boarder where we saw our former jeep being towed through the vehicle check points. It looked as though Al Capone would remain our escort!

Making our way through Mongolian customs, again, Brandon and I befriended a Kazakhstani named Almira! A fellow “visa runee,” Almira was also Beijing bound and agreed to share a taxi back with us! (Although, Brandon was almost to the point where he could laugh at his experience, i.e. spooning with Mongolians on the bus, he had no desire to repeat it!)

Emerging from customs, we reunited with Al Capone and the other passengers, two Mongolian women. During the brief jaunt to China I was able to befriend the two women. We communicated via gestures and drawing each other pictures on our departure stubs. I was able to ascertain that the women were from different parts of Mongolia, one lived near a mountain, or lake, or forest; the particulars were a little hard to determine, the other lived somewhere cold. Also, one was going to China to visit someone or to sightsee, again the precise details were a little vague, and the other was on business, that is a shopping excursion!

I lost my new Mongolian friends somewhere in Chinese customs; I also nearly lost Brandon and Almira, who were both detained... Eventually, Brandon, Almira and I made it back to China and were soon comfortably situated in a taxi back to Beijing!

The ride back as wonderful; the conversation lively, the route exciting, and the scenery fascinating... Out my window I peered into a rugged and dry landscape. Little houses and villages were nestled into rolling hills which rippled out in all directions and grew into mountains as our taxi drew closer to Beijing...We entered the big city a little after dusk. The skyscrapers and flashing lights seemed so detached from the countryside we had just driven through

Once we parted with Almira, Brandon and I concluded our journey with an incredible meal. What a trip!