Down but not out in the Gobi

I returned this morning from an experience I most definitely do not want to repeat, but will look back on with amusement. I left Wednesday afternoon to get my visa repeated again by popping over the border to China - simple one might think and if all should go according to plan I would be back on Friday morning. I came back Sunday a little before midday and nothing went to plan. I did not eat a proper meal between Wednesday lunch and Sunday lunch.

The first sign was the melting of chocolate bars I had taken with me on the train to Zamyn-Uud in the far south, Gobi Desert territory. The Mars Bar was heavily perspiring but still solid, but the Snickers had to be left until the morning to reconstitute itself. The train journey passed off uneventfully and the film was a Polish movie (helpfully dubbed into Mongolian) of pre-Christian Poland with shades of Macbeth. It was hard to know what to make of it, on all levels.
In Zamyn-Uud, I made a beeline for the bus that would transport me across the border (no walking allowed). At the Mongolian side, the Mongolian aversion to queuing was evident, even from vehicles. In supermarkets, they chivvy you along, by pushing your goods down faster than the conveyor belt works, even if they only have a stick of celery. The bus driver behind us left no space between his bus' forward-projecting arm of a side mirror and our rear so when our bus driver tried to reverse, the arm of the bus behind on the second attempt went straight through our rear window, luckily not shattering the whole. I was one on the back seat.

This brush with destruction over, I thought we would sweep into China via Zamyn-Uud's counterpart, Ereen. It was not to be. The Ereen (Erlian in Chinese) border post suffered a powercut. For eight hours we waited in temperatures exceeding 35 Celsius and the savage sun, not obscured by a cloud in sight, lowered over all. The border at Ereen sports some large iron-wrought constructions of rainbows and, as time wore on, entering Ereen seemed as mythical as the fabled pot of gold at the end of the refracted light phenomenon but there were certainly men in green clothes causing annoyance. Though there were upwards of 5,000 people backed up, the Chinese border guards had no intention of relieving the backlogue early by doing things the old-fashioned way. When the electricity was restored, not everything was working, but the duty-free shop was. Carlsberg don't do customs officials, but if they did they'd probably be the best customs officials in the world. Even if they really did, they would not be found at Ereen. So unhelpful were they, that I took to harassing them (at one point being confronted by five of them) and then mocking them, before deciding it was wise not to give them too much grief should they later punitively detain me. The border guards also seemed to derive pleasure from driving people out of spaces offering shadows.

One cannot fully appreciate the value of water until one is severely dehydrated under an unrelenting fiery orb. It was so hot that what was left of my lypsyl melted. I met some American missionaries from Texas who were suffering too. The only book I saw with them was about Narnia so they maybe they are Mother Teresa 'actions, not words' stylers. They were an ecumenical bunch as well with Russians in their band and believers of Protestantism, Roman Catholicism and Orthodox all together. Kimberly and Dodds (I think that's how you spell the cheerful 'Dards') I talked with most; Jim, who was also in their particular jeep, was suffering, having only eaten (until I gave him a cake roll) salted peanuts!

I had budgeted for just one day in Ereen, not expecting to stay the night. Hence I could have stayed in a cheap, decent hotel, but that would have sabotaged getting back across the border by eating into the jeep fee I would have to pay. So thirsty hombre that I was, I opted to buy 5.5 litres of juice and some light food in a supermarket and then found a patch to sleep rough in. Yes, I slept rough in the Gobi. Not advised. I dumped my comestibles in a park-cum-allotment that I had penetrated through a gap in the fence and set off with valuables in hand toward the border to try and get a mobile phone signal to contact Altaa (but no joy). Returning to my stash I hunkered down on the cold, sandy ground among the bushes and short trees, out of sight to the outside world though I had a good view of the nearby local communist party headquarters.
I got about an hour 45 mins sleep in total (on top of the four hours the night before) and woke up for the final time at 4.09am, my teeth chattering away like a machine gun, despite wearing all of my spare clothes all at once. At 4.3oam the dawn stole up. At 5.50am I was sat down in a building site on an office step, writing some of this up, when the foreman unexpectedly came out of his office (having entered via another way). I bet I was a sight he doesn't see every day. Around half nine, my passport temporarily handed over to the Mongolian consulate, I was roiling in my long-sleeved shirt having removed my other layers, sweat coruscating down me. I took the time to explore Ereen with my camera to the fore.
So, in the jeep, the guy was a friendly Mongolian who kept his ("bad Chinese") vegetables in the engine compartment. He picked up some other people, but after various delays I was the only one who saw the Mongolian side with him. I went to the Zamyn-Uud train station to try and get a locomotive leaving that day, but it was all sold out (and my original booked in advance ticket invalid from the day before).
I stumbled into the local hotel and rejoiced in a mattress and sheets. The room had TV and precious little else. CNN Asia is hilariously stilted, sounding like government press releases stitched together and, when the news story narrative is long, they run out of images and repeat them sometimes four or more times. Animal Planet channel was informative but the host was grating in his tiresome slapstick.
I booked the 10pm train on the Saturday as that was the only one offering a bed for the overnight journey. So, I pottered around Zamyn-Uud, keeping out of the noon-day sun till 4.30pm by staying mostly in the hotel lobby. On my last trip south, I had noticed the sale of J. Sainsbury's shopping bags in an Ereen shopping arcade. Now, when I bought some food in a shop near the station in Zamyn-Uud, my purchases were put in a Morrison's bag. Bizarre. Mongolian money was becoming an issue as I had no bank cards with me and most of it went on juice and water. The train pulled into Ulaanbaatar almost two hours late at 11.50am on the Sunday and thus ended my ordeal. A wash was of paramount importance when I got home and my body reacted to a full soak since it was as dry as my throat. Next time, I'll catch the international train - there should be no hitches with that otherwise Ereen/Erlian will hear from Beijing. This was a long post, but it was longer living it I can tell you.