Saturday, August 25, 2007

The past month

It's been a little over a month since I returned. In that time, it has mainly been catching up with friends and family. Lynsey had a barbecue round her place on the Saturday end of July and I didn't leave till Monday morning, going to her Bethnal Green church and then seeing relatives in another part of London before kipping back at her place again. I am coming to the conclusion that DIY barbecue doesn't agree with my constitution; as Hugh-Fearnley Whittinsall chided his charges about the state of their camp cooking, it was ideal barbecue food - burnt on the outside, raw on the inside. Doesn't mean I'll stop partaking in it though. On that Monday morning just before departure, amidst the tranquility I saw from out the window a red, red robin really go bob, bob, bobbing along. Quite an unusual sight these days.
I went up to the Midlands for a week to see another grandfather that Monday. I also went in the middle of August to a county cricket match - Sussex against one of their bogey teams, Warwickshire. The latter racked up a score past 500 and said to the home side, beat that. That was mostly on the Friday my dad and I were there. Suzzex gamely tried to achieve that, with some pyrotechnic cricket on the Saturday, a certain Richard Montgomery notching up 195 runs; an amazing score, but oh so close to that double century. Sussex at least drew the match with half their batting order still intact at the close of the match. The glorious thing about cricket is that it is so laidback; you don't need to worry about missing a few balls and even can fall asleep on a pleasant day without being overly concerned on missing some of the action, since the match is spread across several days.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The departure

My Mongolian tally will now be completed in this post. It was harum-scarum on boarding my plane when leaving Mongolia. I had wanted to leave the apartment at 6.30am, but Altaa insisted I eat breakfast and on a myriad of other little things. We eventually left in the taxi at 7.10am. To paraphrase My Fair Lady, get me to the airport on time. The journey took 15 minutes. I got to the check-in area only to be told that the check-in for the Aeroflot flight was closed. My ticket said 08.35, but the staff said the plane was due to leave at 07.45. I had received an email from the travel company, but my account refused to allow me to paste the itinerary web address into my browser, so I trusted that nothing had changed. Huh.
After pleading with the airport authorities and contemplating spending at least one more day in Mongolia, the Aeroflot 'agent' (as the airport staff called him) came to the security area from the plane. Asking to see my ticket, after checking it he speeded things up. My suitcase was weighed then manually carted away. Passport control then had trouble finding my visa stamp, but eventually let me through. I followed the agent/pilot down the gate lane. Getting to my seat I could see they were still taking on fuel. I was lucky on the laidback attitude to life. We finally took off at 08.20. On leaving, I noticed the passenger jet plane for the North Korean second-in-command. It was rather large for a seemingly small entourage, but more surprisimgly for such an anti-American state it looked like a Boeing model.
Further up in the sky, one could see the smog of UB. That is what I've been breathing in for the best part of half a year. It was quite striking as it crept along the corridors formed by the hills leading out of the city.
On the flight, I had a rather interesting chat with a German tourist who had come out to witness a friend's wedding. We covered East Asia, the merits of our respective political systems and the impact of Mongolia's legacy over the past 800 years, though we were at times frivolous as well. It's so refreshing to meet an intellectual equal, not soaring above you or struggling to understand below you.
The Tupolev TU-154 looked rather dodgy from my window seat, with the nails on the wing looking rusty and parts of the wingheld down with silver duct tape. It wasn't auspicious but we arrived in one piece.
The connection flight from Moscow was tight - too tight as it turned out for my stowed luggage. It was scheduled to leave at 11.15am (Moscow time) and our plane landed at 10.30am. However, within ten minutes of stepping off the first plane, I was boarding my flight to London, being whisked past the queue at the transfer desk. Unwittingly, it was sans suitcase, but the futile wait at Heathrow did at least establish that all the people coming from Mongolia were without their suitcases and not just me. A little anxiety aside, not lugging a heavy suitcase through the London transport system was a boon and it was delivered to my house the next day undamaged. I was back in Britain.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

The last weekend in Mongolia 2007

Here's a more personal description of my last weekend. The last time I had been to the Bogd Khaan Palace Complex was in spring with much dry, yellow grass abounding and Altaa told me there would be an explosion of joyous green with the vegetation well-watered by the summer rains (it's more cloudy in summer than in winter). It wasn't as spectacular as I imagined, but it was decent in terms of vibrancy.
The complex was originally the abode of Mongolia's last king, a theocratic and then constitutional monarch who lasted for half a century until 1924. In fact, he was the eighth Bogd Khaan, a line of holy Buddhist rulers dating back to Mongolia's cultural lodestone, Zanabazar, the first Bogd Khaan, in the 17th century. In the grounds, with their many temples and former libraries, there were a fair few bronze-workings (some by the Renaissance man Zanabazar himself) and plenty of banners on religious themes described as being made of silk applique (I think the application of silk to an original sketch on cloth).
The Winter Palace was built by the Russians in the reign of the last Bogd Khaan, although the Manchu Emperor of China, Mongolia's then overlord, chided the Khaan for building in the style of a rival religion and so, as vassal, the Bogd Khaan added some Buddhist imagery to mollify. I think the real reason why the Manchu Emperor made a fuss was that the Mongolians were entering the monasteries at record rates and so the birth rate was falling. Fewer Mongolians would be easier to control and the Chinese and Manchus did not want anything to impede this.
Inside, there was a spectacular horse-drawn carriage made in Britain, a ger tent covered with more than 100 leopard skins given to the Bogd Khaan on his 25th birthday by a wealthy local noble and a sedan chair. Upstairs, there were original musical chairs, given by the Russian tsar, where instead of sitting down when the music stops, it's the sitting down that starts the music. There was a robe made of gold thread that was impervious to fire, much coral and pearl ornamentation (despite Mongolia being landlocked), glass mirrors and furniture from Manchu emperors, separate beds for the Bogd Khaan and his wife (for he was devout Buddhist and he and his predecessors were all chosen by Buddhist clergy) and the Bogd Khaan's official chair with many cushions so he could tower over his guest and courtiers but reminded me of the princess and the pea.
Downstairs again but at the back, there were on display the clothes the Bogd Khaan's elephant wore. Certainly a pet more novel than most (especially since Mongolia has no elephants, this one being bought in Russia and who knows how it got there). There were also the legendary paintings by Sharaa, including his most famous One Day in Mongolia, in which Mongolians get up to all sorts of antics in a vast canvas ensemble, though they weren't the original hangings (copied from elsewhere).
The strangest items were in the taxidermy section. Dozens of stuffed animals from more than a century ago, purchased from Hamburg by the Bogd Khaan's agents but procured from many exotic locales - all the toucans, toads, tigers, plus penguins and more. The stuffed lion had a stuffed deer hanging limply from its jaws, the frozen snakes had a vole and a surprised frog to play with and the monkeys had tiny babies on their back. Such harvesting of wildlife would not be countenanced by most today, but the values of a hundred years ago are massively different. As mentioned in the blog recently, the past is another country. Weirdest of all was the "lazy antelope" - actually a four-toed sloth. I guess this derives somehow from its eating of termites and ants on trees. There was an "anteater" in its own right present in the same glass cabinet and the museum staff must have found the pairing entirely natural.
In Ulaanbaatar, I kept bumping into the North Korean second-in-command who was visiting Mongolia for the first time in 20 years. First, on the Saturday, I came across his convoy at the crossroads intersection where the main Trade and Development Bank and its idiosyncratic clocktower is located. There were plenty of police for the entourage but not apparent at first and so it was wise that I refrained from taking a picture as the convoy turned the corner of the cleared roads (all I would have got would have been a silhouette). This year, it was North Korean flags beside Mongolian flags hanging from street lamps on the eve of my departure, last year it was South Korean flags for the president of that country. The second time I came across the North Korean or at least his convoy was with Altaa as we made our way to Zaisan Memorial from the Bogd Khaan's Palace and the vehicle flotilla was returning.
Last year, Altaa and I regularly went to Zaisan, but this year was our first time. At the top, we found a plaque near the religious rock-pile known as an ovoo. The plaque was erected by the Democratic Party (the opposition party in the Mongolian parliament) not more than two weeks before. there were loads of goats scaling the steep angles of Zaisan. After we climbed down the steps, we went home and invited Altaa's recently arrived parents out for dinner.

Mongolian round-up

Well, I've finally got around to summarising the last bit of my Mongolian experience. First a bit of general. The buildings vacated by the Hungarian Embassy staff is now occupied by the French ambassador and underlings. Apparently the interior was quite ramshackle when the French government first acquired it. The French, like the Hungarians, fly the EU flag alongside their national one. The Hungarians have a historic link to rub it in the nose of the neighbouring Turkish Embassy about who and who is not in the EU, but the French don't like the Turks either and this is, I guess, why the EU flag stays fluttering. Also, I saw the construction of a South Korean hotel in the space of a few months on my regular bus route - Hotel Richfield it goes by the name of, with a little see-through pyramid of iron bars on top, much like the Louvre but without the glass. Unfortunately, all the windows were put in upside down. Possibly this was a design flaw (and if so quite a grievous one), but it does smack of Mongolian building and business practices - that of organised incompetence - they know what to do, but they don't how to do it or do it badly. How did I know the windows were upside down? Well, the laws of convection state that hot air rises. If you're room is a bit hot or stuffy, you open a window to let the hot air rise out and high rise places tend to not have the main section of the window open right out, so you open the window at the top. The windows on Hotel Richfield opened at the bottom, to let all the cold air out I guess in the height of summer. This is not to mention the issues of child safety where a careless child could quite easily fall out or open it themselves causing danger, while bending over to open or close, even if you are short, is bad for your back whereas stretching upwards is good for it. And not just one window was like this; they all were installed the same way. Furthermore, lest one think I'm being unfair, I learnt that at the airport, the regional planes would not even be flying were it nor for Western expertise; one turboprop aircraft, i.e. a more basic propeller-driven one than one powered by jet engine, was being repaired by Mongolian 'engineers' until a company brought in some Western mechanics to speed it up. The Western crew looked at the duration of the contract and found that the work was 4600 hours over, roughly 193 days late and it still wasn't finished! Not the fault of the Mongolians - they just hadn't been taught how to fix it and were working it out as they went along. It's better than feeling the heat of the boss and signing off on an unfinished contract as has happened. It just makes you shake your head. High literacy and numeracy are fine and good, but they only take you so far. Mongolia needs to massively upgrade its knowledge base. But I don't want to be too down on it because there are many great things about the country. Anyway, like with a certain movie about a green ogre, they've got the beating of the UK again, Transformers appearing a whole week before its British release. Spiderman 3 being beaten to the Mongolian box office by Transformers? I really don't understand Mongolian film distribution.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Re: the blog

It's been two and a half weeks since I last updated; in fact, I was no less than on the other side of the planet when I updated. Certain matters have delayed me. On return from a long stay in a foreign country, I like to relax and pretty much not do anything for a week or so. Then the next nine days was spent visiting family and friends - having contact in the real world not the virtual one. But now I will restart the blog in earnest, despite outward appearances of the home island not especially exciting. I was less than enamoured on my return to Britain. Coming from Mongolia, which had mostly unobscured blue skies (except ironically in summer, when the rains are prevalent), where many women would qualify as models, the men have a rough-hewn quality and clothing isn't just an afterthought, making my way back from Heathrow (sans suitcase, another tale) there seemed to be loads of badly-dressed, ugly people under a leaden sky (that at least delivered on its promise and rained). But adaptation comes and you accept the mundanities of your new reality, for there is little else one can do. Not to be too negative, however, it is pleasing to be back, though equally I could have spent the whole summer out in the Land of Blue Sky happily. Oh yes, and I'm changing the timezone from the next blog, so all the entry time logs of the whole blog will change (because no-one blogs in different timezones in the home of the blogger.com creators, despite their own country having at least five). So for the record it's 10.41 am.