A Date

Day 11 - I have a date with my Mongolian policeman. After breakfast at the hotel (they also serve rice and kimchi for breakfast... there are a lot of Korean businesses here), we look for the police station. After an hour and a half's walk, we find it. Fortunately, we are on a first name basis (ahem!) as no one speaks English, so the officer in front points us to our policeman's office.

After much sign language, I get him to call up our travel agent who translates the details of the incident to him. He carefully writes this down on a piece of paper and even corrects what I think is grammar (not sure why since our Insurance would not be able to read Mongolian anyway, but I do commend his conscientiousness). Sigh, I now feel like a connoisseur of police stations having seen quite a few by now. The place resembles a bank more than a police station. As we sit at the desk, officer after officer comes in with cash notes, which our dear policeman records and adds to his neat pile of notes and papers. There must be a lot of parking fines in Ulaan Baatar ;P Two hours later, I get my report, all nicely typed up in Mongolian. If I had my choice, between the russkies and the mongolians, I'd take my chances with the mongolians anyday.

We spend the rest of the day in the city, buy a North Face jacket (with detacheable fleece) for 40000 Tugriks (approx 20 quid).

Back to the City

Day 9 - It's our final day at the ger camp. Woke up early to take panaromic shots of our surroundings. The vastness of the landscape still takes my breath away. I am not the only one trying to capture a little of this to take back with me. We are all a little sad to go.

We wait by the van whilst a man pulls what looks like an ox cart laden with our luggage. The horses have been let out of their enclosure and are spread out, some milling around us. The man whose family we visited yesterday came over and we greet him. Finally with all the bags in the van, we head off to the capital, Ulaan Baatar. As we drive off, the two mongolian boys mount their horses and ride beside us. We all shout "Chuuuuuuu!!" as they gallop beside us and we wave goodbye at each other. What a wonderful end to our stay!

Chuu!!

We reach Ulaan Baatar by lunch time and check into a 4-star hotel. The city is bustling and filled with exhaust fumes from cars and buses. There is yellow dust everywhere (ironically, the sky is clear blue, unlike China - we've been in China a week now and I have yet to see the sun, never mind blue skies) . There is construction everywhere. The hotel typifies the standard of construction in the city - it generally looks as one expects but on closer inspection the workmanship is shoddy - the finish is bad (my bathroom ceiling tile fell down in the middle of the night.. and I thought some mongolian was trying to get into my room) and one runs a slight risk of getting electrocuted via certain light switches (fyi avoid room 212 in the Bayangol hotel...). We have dinner at the Grand Khaan Irish Pub (www. gk-irishpub.mn) - we order the Grand Khaan spare ribs with chips. Yum! The food isn't very expensive - about 8000 - 11000 Tugriks (~ 2000 Tugriks to a quid) and they seem honest with credit cards. There is also free internet (wifi) so a lot of people bring their laptops in.
Lunch at the Grand Khaan!

Ulaan Baatar...




Day 10 - We walk around the city. Roadworks everywhere. No one seems to know how a pedestrian crossing should work. JD seems to get the hang of it though and so drags me across oncoming traffic. Mongolian women are very well dressed (they dress like russians, skinny jeans and knee high black boots). Vendors selling fruits, cigarettes (in singles) and old ladies sitting on stools by the roadside with satellite phones which people pay to make calls. Landlines are not yet fully developed (their telephone numbers are also only 6 digits long), so everyone uses cellphones. Apart from the area where our hotel is, the city is not very pretty. They try to plant grass and saplings to beautify the pavements but the climate is too harsh for these to thrive. We visit the State Department Store (like Russia's GUM store, Mongolia too has a state department store). Cashmere here pretty reasonable (about 20-30 quid for a sweater). We meet up with Tim and Sam and have dinner in an Italian restaurant called Della Casa (Mongolian food didn't look very appetizing). We bump into Lisa at the restaurant ;)
State Dept Store

Heaven on Earth

Day 8 - We awake in our beautiful Ger tent to a glorious golden morning and a 'backyard' view to die for. I have to say, every single day in Mongolia had blue skies (it really is true, even in Ulaan Baatar as we later find out). After a good breakfast of mongolian rice porridge, lamb fried dumplings and various breads with butter and fresh cranberry jam (very nice), JD and I take a walk and watch the local boys herd the horses over the hill and into the corral. We stop and listen to perfect silence. After a while we slowly walk back to the camp. There is a lot of horse shit all over (not just around where the horses are kept but everywhere for miles and miles) but after a while you get use to it (they are rather dry clumps and not really offputting) and only avoid the 'fresh' ones.
Our camp!



Later that morning, we get ready for our horse ride (5 USD each, very reasonable). We each sign a waiver and are given instructions (always mount the horse with your left foot and bring the other over and shout "chu" to get it to move). We put on our helmets and chaps, gather up a saddle each and make our way to the corral. Apart from our roomies Antony and Theresa, most of us are first timers and very nervous (these things are big). We gather round, looking at the horses and gesturing to the herdsman we all want the smallest ones. Then one by one, the herdsman indicates to us our designated horse and helps us mount it (I have a suspicion they pair horse and rider by personality). The horses are stouter and less elegant than the ones we're used to seeing but extremely tough. They are apparently left outside to fend for themselves even in winter when it gets to about minus 38 degrees. These horses are not fed but left to scratch and scrape for grass themselves (by contrast, the camp owners are building a garage for their car). My horse was milk chocolate brown with thick, short, wiry mane and extremely well behaved whilst JD's was a paler brown colour with a longer mane and as we found out later, terribly obstinate ;P
Horses
Oozing confidence, obviously
Suited up!
We all start off rather slow and cautiously, trying to keep balance. The view is breathtaking - there is miles and miles of open plains and nothing between us and the mountains in the horizon. Our horses follow a general direction. My horse having seen some of his mates in the distance (long distance .. his mates were just tiny dots) decides to head off that way before I pull him back towards our group. After the first 45 minutes, with gained confidence, even the most terrified of us start to urge our horses to go faster by shouting "chu". The horses however seem reluctant to respond. One of us, Peter, thinks it's a translation issue and we try various versions ranging from "shoe", "choo" to "shooo". Finally, he settles with "Go Tonto go!". JD's horse trots behind some of ours. He shouts "chuuu" with gusto, only to make our horses surge forward and some of us (girls) scream in the process. We finally stop at a slight hill and look back at our camp which looks like toy models in the distance. Then our guides head back towards camp and our horses (they know the drill) follow with great speed. I hang on for dear life for the first 30 seconds before finally enjoying the exhilaration of the gallop (standing on the stirrups helps correct your balance btw). My horse is moving so fast I can hear the wind rush past my ears! What a wonderful life these boys must have!

After lunch we pay a visit to a family living nearby (approx 40 minutes walk). We stop halfway to take pictures of some yaks. Very impressed as it was a real family ( they don't get paid or anything and they certainly weren't expecting us). We bring some biscuits, sweets and a notebook as gifts. Baggi our tour guide helps translate questions and answers from both family and visitors. The couple have 6 children, the eldest 28 and the youngest who was in the tent with them, 10 months. Their children are living in the city - the elder ones working, the teenage boys studying (they come home in weekends to help out with the animals.) It is custom that the youngest child takes care of his parents and carry on the tradition.
Yaks!
Family
They have 2 ger tents (1 for living and the other presumably for storage - it had some meat hanging inside) and a white car (for ferrying the children to school). A typical ger costs about USD500 and is much better self contained than a caravan I reckon. We were all give some salted milk tea to drink (smelt very sweet and milky, even though it wasn't). Our hosts also offered us some fried curd (looked like sesame paste, very rich in taste), dried curd (looked like soap, tasted awful - bitter, salty and hard) and 'freshly scooped' curd (looked the most gross but actually tasted the best - like rich cream). Apart from milk based foods, I don't think fruit and vege are hot on the menu...
Mmmm... milk curd anyone?
We talk some more and find out that 40% of Mongolia's population are still nomadic. The government encourages this way of life and provide assistance to help them in various ways - e.g. providing solar panels (which allow them to generate electricity for the occasional tv or radio) and satelite dishes (for telephone). The family we visited had about 4000 horses and several thousand sheep. Was calculating - they are really quite wealthy - with each horse worth about USD100, an average family would be sitting on a quite sizeable livestock investment of at leastUSD 400,000. The family also tell us they move about 3-4 times a year in search for pastures and water for their livestock. They would be moving in about 10 days time to winter pastures (which are closer to mountains which would provide some shelter from the winds). Water sources are kept secret as in the past foreign invaders (the chinks, again..) have poisoned their water.

We talk some more, some of us have brought postcards from the UK and show these to the family. JD offers the baby a biscuit and takes it away when the mother makes choking gestures at him. The toddler wasn't impressed. The 10-month old boy can barely walk but already goes on the saddle with his father. Baggi tells us about local customs, one of which is sweeping the broom to indicate to visitors that they are no longer welcome. As if on cue, the boy picks up the broom and we all burst out laughing.

We say our goodbyes and make our way back to camp. We have dumplings for dinner and talk about our day and some more about our Trans Mongolian misadventures (I think we needed to get it out of our system). Someone asks us what made us do the trip and we all start cussing 'bloody Michael Palin' (sorry Michael, we love you really). The nights are so cold it hurts after washing your hands. Brrrrrr!

Ulaan Baatar and the (ahem) Chinese invaders

Day 7 - After so many days onboard, we nearly kiss the ground when we get off the train. JD is still 'swaying' on the platform. We are met on the platform by Baggi, our tour agent (The Trans Siberian Experience utilises local russian and mongolian travel agencies) who gathers us up and ushers us into a small van. We stop by a hotel to shower (after several days I think fumigation and sandblasting would have been more appropriate). Then it's off to a local cafe called 'Chez Bernard' where feast on a full English breakfast (bacon was excellent).
Chez Bernard

There we meet several other tourists who have been on the similar route but had stopped halfway at Irkutsk for a couple of days by the Lake (Baikal). Their train for most of their journey, apart from the last day from Itkutsk to Ulaan Baatar on ours, was the tourist train (sigh..apparently with wood panelling, food on trolleys and not a smuggler in sight). Needless to say it was a rude shock when they got on ours the night before (snigger). We exchange anecdotes and tell them 'next time' we'll get them tickets (from our friends at the 'russian special price' ofUSD75 -- for 25 passengers, as opposed to our USD 60 per ticket -- Russian Experience pockets the remainder of the GBP1000++, can you imagine??), use several and let our mongolian friends travel 'on the house' wth the remainder.

After lunch, Baggi takes us on a quick tour of UB (Ulaan Baatar). She gives us an account of the history behind the city -- apparently the Mongolians have had about 7 or 8 capitals, mostly around where UB is today before making UB the modern day capital. We're not convinced these nomads have quite got the concept of capitals as they are planning to move the capital (yet again) back to Kharakorum. Work is already underway in order for the new capital to be built in 40 years' time. She also gives us a brief account of the Mongol empire, how they established their capital at Beijing before the "Chinese invaders" drove them out..hmmm.

We also visit Sukhbatar Square and the Gandan monastery (one of the few Buddhist monasteries that were not destroyed by the communists). Our van then takes us out of UB (we will return for a 2 night stay at UB after our stay at the Ger camp). Harsh soviet style building blocks gradually make way to small wooden houses before giving way to a vast open landscape framed by majestic mountains in the distance. A couple of hours later, we reach our camp in the countryside.
Outside Gandan monastery
Turning prayer wheels
Closeup (Tim's pic)
Resident monks
Family wedding outside monastery
Sukkhbaatar square
The camp is rather tastefully done (pretty much the real thing although they could have perhaps not arranged the tents in 2 parallel lines, holiday camp style). Surprisingly, there is a separate brick building housing the restaurant, toilets and even showers. Toilets are flushing although one is not allowed to flush toilet paper down (I gather their sewage system isa basic one), so there is a bin in every cubicle for paper. Takes some getting used to...

We settle into our ger tents. There are 4 beds per tent. There is a central iron stove and a cupboard. The artwork on the furniture and tent itself is simply beautiful. We share our tent with a lovely couple called Antony and Theresa.
Our tent!
Inside the Ger
Theresa updating her diary
View from door of Ger

Dinner is served at 7pm and (surprisingly) with a lot of vegetables. Food was excellent. The chef looks Indian and I smack JD for trying to ask him for a tikka masala.

We stay on after dinner for a show. The show starts off rather badly as the staff put some extra logs on the fire to keep the Siberian cold out only to have to open the windows as the smoke threatens to asphyxiate us. It has the clumsiness of a school play in action. However, when the entertainment started, it completely exceeded our expectations. Although we didn't know it at the time, we were actually quite fortunate as this was apparently a famous group of musicians whose visit coincided with our stay. A lady called Mrs Namdig performs a solo for us. We later find out that she is the same person who sang in Enigma's hit song in the 90's (we were wondering why it sounded familiar). The group also plays some songs with their traditional instruments which sound so beautiful that we sit enraptured and completely silent. We also get to see a performance on throat singing (very disconcerting as the performer's lips don't move and yet you hear his voice and the upper whistling notes simultaneously). Next up is a performance by a contortionist whose movements are excruciating (for us that is) and stragely hypnotic all at once. I personally think this bit was for the men in the audience rather than the women..ahem!
The musicians
Mrs Namdig and Mr Namdig(?)


Contortionist

The Waiting Game

Day 7 - Another cold night. According to Sam's handbook (sigh), we should be passing Lake Baikal, the world's largest fresh water lake, at about 1am. Lisa sets her alarm clock. I tell her and JD not to bother waking me.
The train is relentless...
View of Lake Baikal (taken from Tim's camera.. we were sound asleep)

We are now approximately +8 hours GMT. The train stops at Nauschii (?? I'll confirm name.... when I get my damn Handbook) for Russian Customs inspection which lasts for 4 hours. The russians as always are extremely, well russian. The front guy explains in perfect english that our passports will be taken away for inspection and held for 2 hours. We hand over our passports (after the officer looks at JD about 3 times) and white immigration card (in many respects, the white card is more important than the passport so don't lose that).

Then a lady officer and an accompanying military officer enters the carriage and proceeds to search each cabin Our provinista (bless her) gives our cabin a quick glance in case the people she put with us in the first place left anything behind. When our turn comes, we are asked to step outside our cabin whilst the soldier searches its compartments (not the hidden ones though) and underneath our mattresses. We can hear soldiers walking on the roof of the train tapping it as they go along.

JD gets cabin madness so we get off the train and walk about the platform. We take a couple of photos but are told not to take any of uniformed personnel.

4 hours later, we get our documents back and the train resumes it journey. Half an hour later, we stop at the Mongolian customs. The same drill applies (I don't know why they bother because everyone knows the good stuff has already been shifted) and we are kept at the stop for a further 3 hours. There is no hot water and everyone is cold and tired.

7.30 am (Moscow time) - the provinista taps on our doors and collects our bedsheets. I look out of the window and see a rather large sprawling city loom ahead of us. As far as we knew we weren't scheduled to arrive at Ulaan Baatar till afternoon. A couple of minutes later, the provinista opens our door, points at the window and says very firm and urgently the words "Ulan Baatar -- 5 minutes". She repeats this again in case we don't get it. A minute later the train pulls into the station. We scramble to get our belongings together (Lisa did hers whilst still in her sleeping bag) and get off the train within its 5-minute stop.
Bridge crossing

At russian customs...
..

Goodbye already?

Day 6 - We make another quick stop at a station at 7.30 in the morning before continuing. The scenery has changed once again with mound-shaped hillocks in the distance this time. We pass some small russian villages with their quaint vegetable patches, nestling amongst winding streams. There is a smattering of crisp white snow on the ground and the morning sun has cast a pretty glow on everything. The train is moving too fast for a decent photo :(

Lisa wakes up to a lovely white coat, purveyed by Ida via a colleague of hers (who specialises in coats apparently). JD points out with a snigger that the coat is the same one he helped move out on day 1.

Ida then informs us that she, along with 4 other groups, will be taking another train going the opposite direction, i.e. back to Moscow. One remaining group will stay on and return to Mongolia as they do not possess the required visas. We hear the familiar sound of scotch tape as they tape up their packages. I'm rather sad to see her go. We take pictures (I think she likes us by now) and even exchange email addies. By 4.30pm Moscow time, most have left the train. Ida's teenage son bunks with us until his stop which is different to his mother's. Lisa (now a loyal customer) buys another coat from him. We chat in between the last few stops where he proffers his wares to customers. A really nice kid and into hip hop (yes, it's amazing how Eminem and 50 Cent can bring cultures together). At one stop, he tells us a russian police asked to see his identification and then proceeded to ask for 300 rubles. As he didn't have the money on him he got a rap on the head in return. We say our goodbyes as he gets off on his stop.

It is now actually 10.30pm Mongolian time (although everyone follows russian time till they reach Ulaan Baatar) as we are now effectively in Mongolia and the time difference is very apparent looking at the changes in daylight. It is pitch dark outside and the carriage is extremely quiet. One by one, the remaining passengers - the tourists - emerge from their cabins now free to roam the aisles. We exchange anecdotes and even discover that the front carriages specialise in hardware and various machinery parts.

I tell Sam about my being pickpocketed and she shows me a page from the Trans Sib handbook (yes, the ******* handbook which I was never given) which states in Mongolian that I require a police report for insurance purposes. Armed with this page, I tackle the on board police and show him this page. A nice local chap who seems to have been the silent man-in-the-shadows throughout the entire journey helps me translate to the policeman. We agree for me to come to the police station at Ulaan Baatar at a specific date in order for me to collect my report.

Topshop on Wheels

Day 5 - Woke up at 7.30 this morning to Mongolian music blaring on the train. The music sounds remarkably similar to traditional chinese music which I haven't heard for a long time. Feeling very happy. We pull into a town called Ishim. From the looks of things, this is a good stop for them. Crowds of russians are already gathering on the platform. There is much animated bargaining, trying on of coats and exchanging of monies, all under the watchful eyes of the ever present authorities. As Ida advises (we also promised) , we take no pictures. 20 minutes later the train jerks to indicate it's starting up and slowly picks up speed to allow our enterprising friends to climb back on.
Station (Tim's pic)

Day 5 (PM) - We have fully embraced our new way of life. Lisa has asked Ida to source a specific coat for her and the couple next door, Tim and Sam have finally relented and allowed the locals to enter their cabin to retrieve some items from the roof. Tim tells us he was accosted by not one but three mongolian women ...apparently the large girl was most persuasive.

Hours meld into the next as we read, talk, play soduku and sleep amidst people constantly jiggling our cabin door handle, trying to get in. The provinista and several passengers are smoking a little hash. We have entered Siberia and it is getting much colder. The view outside is lovely - the landscape is full of silver barked birch trees with bright yellow leaves. We have apparently crossed 5 out of the 11 time zones.

We stop in a town called Nobrolovsky (spelt as such I think.. I have to check once I get my handbook from my travel agent upon my return). I find myself craving for crisps. JD buys me a packet, along with some bananas and oranges from the platform.

We together with Lisa spend the rest of the day talking about the discrepancies contained in our glossy Trans Sib brochures (the words 'kick off your shoes', 'sip vodkha' and 'relax' somehow don't go with 'barracading yourself in cabins, and pot noodles....). We resolve to have a word with our travel agents when we get back.


Buying food from platform

Savoury bun (filled with bits of cabbage ... very tasty)

Economics 101

Day 4 - More stuff makes its way onto the train. We get to know our fellow passenger, Ida (not her real name) who gives us the 101 on the economics of the Trans Mongolian train. We find out that this is the Trans Mongolian train, not the Trans Siberian (both run the same route before one continues to Vladivostock and the other to Beijing.) We will later find out from other tourists that the Trans Siberian is the tourist train whereas the Trans Mongolian is the 'working' train..).
Ida chats to us and through a mixture of russian, mongolian, chinese words and charades, we piece together the dynamics of the system. There is a trilateral capitalistic marriage of sorts between the Chinese, Russian and Mongolian (ahem) organisations where the Mongolians act as the go-between between the estranged pair. For example, the black pvc mens jackets cost 100 rubles from the Chinese, and are sold along the way (by the mongolians) to local russians for 200-300 rubles. Russians retail these at about 500 rubles in Moscow. Everyone knows their place and no one sells above the 'recommended retail price' lest they get yanked by the authorities who'll 'have a word with them'.

After sweet talking us for about an hour or two, Ida moves in her consignment of black jackets and padded coats.

We begin to get used to our surroundings. Several chaps knock on the door (a first) and point at the ceiling. I nod and move to let them unscrew the light panel and remove about fifty rolled up brown jackets and more jeans.

Ida disappears and reemerges several times during the day, sporting various items of fashion, shoes and makeup. We are slowly getting sucked in ... Lisa has enquired about a certain white coat..
Choosing coats for Lisa

Trans Mongolian

I've never been so excited in my life... we're going on the Trans Siberian!! Mum's reminded me to watch out for pickpockets.

Day 3 (PM) - I've been pickpocketed. We're waiting at the train station with about a million other Mongolians on the platform with huge packages and bundles of goods. I get stuck with a crowd of noisy locals all clamouring to get on board the train as it pulls to a stop. When I get on the train, I find to my horror that my slingbag is completely wide open. We push and shove our way through the narrow train aisle which was completely blocked by the Mongolians and parcels, hastily leave our bags in our cabin with an Aussie lady and climb over packages and people out of the train again. Our russian driver is calmly waiting for us on the platform, lighting his cigarette. He gestures us not to bother trying the Mongolian police on the platform, so we run towards the russian police station at the front. We would have missed it if he hadn't indicated - This has got to be the first police station that's completely barricaded from the inside. We press a buzzer and after some words from our driver, the steel doors open. This looks straight out of the movies. We walk down a narrow, dank and dark concrete stairway before coming to a second metal door (you'd think they were trying to keep people out...) before pressing another buzzer to get through a second metal door. We step into a small, smoky concrete bunker no bigger than 4 metres square. Several russian police are standing on the other side of a metal grilled window. The metal door is closed behind us. At this point I am a little stressed as our train is about to pull out in several minutes. I explain to our driver who helpfully translates to the chaps behind the metal cage that I need a police report for insurance purposes. He even calls our travel agent on his mobile (as his english is very limited) who tells me that a report would take some time (ahem!). We got the hint anyway, looking at the faces and the shrugs the russian policemen kept on giving. So we run back out and back to the train just in time with our driver's words "bon voyage" ringing in the background.

Once on the train, we cancel our cards. Btw, +44 does NOT work. You need to dial 810 44... in order to call internationally. We finally introduce ourselves to the nice Aussie lady, Lisa, who had kept an eye on our belongings. The Mongolians are extremely rough and rude. There is a lot of activity moving bundles and bundles of stuff down the train. We close the cabin door and examine our surroundings. There are a few hundred pairs of jeans, padded coats and a pair of legs (sporting a rather fetching pair of jeans) in various compartments. Several Mongolian ladies come in and start moving the stuff out. JD gamely helps them. Lisa and I refuse to take part in what appears to be less-than-lawful activity. Having emptied the cabin of its visible contents, we close the door and heave a sigh of relief.

The cabin is small, consisting of 4 berths - 2 up, 2 down. Each berth is equipped with an inch thick mattress, woollen banket, pillow and a sealed plastic packet containing clean sheets and a pillow case. (The pillow case only fits half the length of the pillow -- I think we get the other half in Mongolia ;P)
The Case of the Half-pillow...
Aisle of train (pic from Tim's camera)
12.30 am - we make an unscheduled stop in the dead of night. No one got off the train but a few hundred pairs of jeans and coats got on.
Night stop

We unpack our essentials and settle in. The Mongolians keep on opening our cabin door, so we lock it. However the provinista has the key and as we later discovered, so did most passengers. I've taken a picture of the lock so should you be insane enough to take this trip, bring an allan key along. I take out my metal teapot and hang it on the door handle so that it would clang if someone came in. JD and Lisa laugh at me for being paranoid.
Lock.. what lock?

Just as we were congratulating ourselves on the good fortune of having the cabin to ourselves, the provinista opens our door and several mongolians start to haul bundles into our cabin. Lisa and I were having none of it - we didn't know what the packages contained and certainly didn't fancy having them in our possession if the russian customs paid a visit. I protested vehemently and tried to pull a bag from the top berth. The Mongolian chap responded violently slapping the bag back onto the berth before I could remove it. JD, whom at that point was a lot less pissed off than I was (well, he wasn't robbed..) and thus more aware of how menacing the guy had become quietly advised me to stop before things got ugly. It was all very hairy. However, I think my barking may have achieved something as they decided to move the packages elsewhere.
Then our thoughts turned to whom would be spending the night with us in the fourth berth. I really didn't fancy the big chap and certainly the violent one would have ended in a face off sooner or later. It turned out a mongolian lady bunked with us that night and for the rest of the journey. That night, the teapot stayed on the door handle.
Our train!
View of back of train (Tim's pic)
View of front of train(Tim's pic)

Lovely Sam - she does a spot-on impression of the locals taping up boxes of goods!
Booty
Modelled jeans

Views from train...





Towards Mongolia (Tim's pics)