autogeno.us » travels

Photherapy

fionda — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 17:14:58 +0000

Our Mongolian friend, Byamba, who is currently studying in Vienna, recently wrote us to say she visits our image gallery often, especially when she misses her friends and family in Ulaanbaatar. “They really make me feel better. Never knew I was such a homesick person!”

For many of us, the bulk of our photographs are condemned to sit on a hard drive, slowly succumbing to bit rot. So it’s satisfying to know at least a few of our images are warming a homesick heart.

Here a SimpleViewer Flash gallery should be displayed. Click here to open the post in your browser to see the gallery.

Tags: mongolia, photography, travels, ulaanbaatar

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Mongolia’s Roads, cont’d.

fionda — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 16:30:16 +0000

We won’t see pavement again until we reach the edge of Kharkhorin later tonight. A huge effort is underway to rebuild the existing highway, as evidenced from the multitude of trucks and other heavy duty equipment we pass en route. This construction forces us off the paved road and onto a dirt one, which then unbraids into half a dozen roadlets that thread across the steppes. Mongolians don’t particularly care to keep to one official detour. Our driver too decides at times it is better to scour a new path across the grass than to follow the existing rutty drags.

This is a rough, beautiful country, a lost one, with a broken history and stoic people. The landscape is endless and ragged, a thin skin of grass stretched over lumps of bones. In the tucks of mountains and hills, people have set their gers, which are bright dots against the dark and enveloping grass.

At Lun, about four hours from UB and far along enough to get a pompeiian dose of dust and heat, we had decided there was no way that we could make it to Tsetserleg in one day as the other team had done. The roads won’t improve and the travel was taking a toll on both N and A. I should say, however, that I have been amazed at how well our little one is managing so far. His sleeping and eating schedule is totally whack, but he seems as wide-eyed and hilarious as usual, easily endearing himself to the Mongolians. N deserves all the credit for this, for making sure he gets full and undisturbed sleep when he needs it. That she’s still breastfeeding has also made it easier for Augú to be fed and to be comforted.

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Tags: lun, mongolia, roads, travels, tsetserleg

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Almost “disappeared”

fionda — Wed, 18 Jul 2007 06:22:59 +0000

I embarked on a photo hunt this afternoon, as I usually like to do in new places. Too embarrassed to take shots of people, I stick with abstracts: sunlight on buildings, shadows, broken pavement, water, etc. I had just shot a string of photos of an ornate fence surrounding a bright yellow building when an armed guard approaches and asks me to follow him back to the security booth. He is smiling a little too much, trying to be overly polite and comforting, which makes me ill at ease. The metal of his gun has worn to a dull patina. He makes a phone call, his voice deep and his sentences curt. Pretending to fumble with my camera, I start to delete any photos that can be interpreted as “spyish”. I then try to show the guard the remaining images, but he brushes the camera aside and makes a sign that either means “wait” or “shove something in my face again and I’ll make knots in your fingers.” About a minute later a disheveled aparachik comes out of the building.”Why are you taking photos of this building?” he asks.

“I wasn’t, I just took some pictures of the fence,” I say.

I hold the camera toward him and point to the display. He shuffles through the photos. For each one, he asks me where I shot it. It doesn’t help that I have been shooting with a huge telephoto lens that just screams “recon”.”This is a special building in Mongolia.”"Oh. I didn’t know. I was just taking photos for my, art.”"Hmm. You will delete the first three,” he tells me, still looking down at the display. I do.

Phew. I think I’m in the clear. I start to pack up my camera.”May I see your passport?”

Shit. Not only did I not have my passport, but I had no other form of i.d. on me. Visions of an empty chair in the middle of a dank room with one light bulb. I tell him that everything is in my hotel room. I manage to dig out a business card, explaining that we are here on a science mission, to help the people of Mongolia. He asks to keep my card. Hey man, take it. Give me a ring next time you’re in the city.”Ok?” I say.”Ok,” he says. “Welcome to Mongolia.”I walked briskly back to the hotel, unable to stop myself from checking behind me at every corner to see if I was being followed. Once back, I checked the map in my LP guide book. I had been taking pictures of the General Intelligence Service building. [see the Mongolia Maps page]

Tags: photography, spooks, travels, ulaanbaatar

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Twist

fionda — Wed, 18 Jul 2007 05:57:39 +0000

For all our preparation and anxiety surrounding the little one, it was Nikki who got sick in the end. She woke me at 3 a.m. on the morning that we were supposed to leave for Sol Dav. Her forehead hot as an ember. Her defenses had been steadily deteriorating since we arrived in UB. We couldn’t mitigate the utter exhaustion we felt coming off the 27 hour flight (1 hour to D.C., 3-hour wait, 13 hours to Beijing 7-hour wait, 3 hours to UB) because AugÃº couldn’t fall asleep for hours after we arrived at the hotel. The little sleep she did get was light and not very rejuvinating.On top of this, United lost her only check-in luggage, which contained all her clothes and most of A’s. All the prep she did ahead of time, getting him good gear and clothes, gone. You were spared, dear reader, a post of invective hurled at the dinosaur airline because of a power outage in our hotel. On the eve of our trip out of the city, the airline calls to tell us they have no idea where the bag could be. So at the last minute, we had to scramble to get the child some new clothes and shoes for camping, underwear and shirts for her, etc.Of course, no sooner did we return from our shopping spree at the Sky deptartment store, the airline calls again to say it found the luggage and that we’d have it later that night. I think this is the point that N’s fever started.The other group left on time this morning and we’re hoping to meet them at the field site sometime tomorrow afternoon. Some of Baatar’s students, Bayaamba and Oyunga, stayed with us to help get N to a western-style medical clinic called SOS Medica Mongolia, which she had discovered as part of her preparation for bringing AugÃº. The clinic is excellent, but not cheap. An examination, bloodwork and prescription set us back $330, but our insurance will ultmately cover it. The LP Mongolia guide has the wrong address for the clinic. The new location is: SOS Medica Mongolia4A Building, Big Ring Road15th Micro District,7th KhorooBayanzurkh District, UBTel. +976.11.464325/26/27email: admin@sosmedica.mnweb:www.sosmedica.mnThis info is precious to have if you’re considering taking a child to Mongolia.N has a “nasty virus” according to the Aussie doc who examined her. Probably picked it up on the plane. She and Augu are sleeping and I’m about to explore some of the more respectable caffe’s in town.

Tags: travels, ulaanbaatar

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Michelle Hotel

fionda — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 23:28:52 +0000

Bayaamba booked a lovely hotel for us down the street from the National University of Mongolia. The Michelle Hotel comes with a free breakfast (eggs, cereal, fruit, etc) and an internet/conference room, with connection speeds faster than any I’ve been able to find at the internet cafes here. The hotel is across from the gated Chinese Embassy and is only a ten-minute walk to the huge Sky Department Store, which stocks a host of Western goods like package fruits, diapers, canned goods. Not something I’d generally give a hoot about, but as we’re traveling with a toddler, it’s reassuring to know we have access to items not normally found in Mongolia. For quick shopping, there’s a 24hr mart next door to the hotel, as well as an “aptek”, a pharmacy.

Tags: mongolia, travels, ulaanbaatar

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First Dispatch from UB

fionda — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 21:32:38 +0000

Ulaanbaatar is a loosely packed, dry and dusty town. It keeps low to the ground, with scarcely a building taller than 15 stories. The mountains around it keep the morning light undirected and the city stays cooler longer as a result.I find the place and its people to be extremely likeable and would normally be lamenting the fact we have to leave in a day, were it not for the awful air quality, which, coupled with jet lag, exhausts me within an hour of starting a walk. The diesel fumes are most concentrated at dusk. But by the early hours of morning, the streets are emptied of traffic and the fumes drift away until just the sweet smell of wood fire hangs in the air. UB is a place of contradictions. A stout monk in traditional garb walks around screaming into his cell phone. Dilapidated temples, in the shadows of new construction. Many cars have the steering wheels on the opposite side as American ones do, yet the traffic direction follows the U.S. system. Women in full length, traditional del robes wait for buses next to women with skirtsÂ so mini they look like belts.The Mongolian language can fall strong on the ears of westerners at first. But grow accustomed to it and you begin to notice that sentences start gruff then drop to an almost-whisper level, a perfect reflection of the extremes of this land and its climate. It is a low, masculine language, designed to travel across steppes and pierce frigid winds and dust storms. But the laughter is light and the songs are wondrous. If you find yourself on a crowded street corner waiting to cross, hope for a lull in the traffic: you just might hear a dozen people singing quietly to themselves.

Tags: mongolia, travels, ulaanbaatar

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Ah, Beijing

fionda — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 09:52:46 +0000

We arrive exhausted and wrinkled in a city made completely invisible by a shroud of haze. Smokers in the airport at every corner. Nowhere is there not a crowd. Our connecting flight to Mongolia is scheduled to leave in seven hours and we decide to head for the gate now and maybe settle in, sleep in shifts. I ask a security guard where the international transfers need to go, and she points to a giant sign in front of me that reads, “International Transfers.” Before you judge me a dumbass, dear reader: we follow the sign for about a quarter mile inside the airport, to a large counter. I ask the woman sitting behind the desk to forgive me for interrupting her personal cell phone call, and that we’d like to know which gate we need to be in for our Miat Mongolia flight to Ulaanbaatar. “This is international transfers for China Air only,” she says, and continues her phone conversation. Oh, I say, looking up at the large, authoritative sign above her head that reads “International Transfers,” giving no hint that there could possibly be another area in the airport that served the same function. I look back down to her. She says we need to backtrack almost the entire way we had come and get in line at counter #1 near the security gate. We find the area and of course, none of the counters are numbered. In the end, we manage to find the appropriate queue, called, “Transfers–Diplomatic Passengers.” We pinch ourselves for missing something so obvious.The guard who processes us is nice enough. Next to his name, there’s a gadget asking us to “Please rate my service”. There are 4 buttons, ranging from “Very good! =)” to “Poor =(“. No idiot am I, I make a grand show of pressing the “Very good!” button, being sure to make eye contact with him as I do so.Our line for “international transfers” bleeds into the same exit as all the other lines, that is to say, the airport lobby, which is an absolute crush of irritable human beings and their irritating luggage.The airport is decor is Socialist Lite: blocky, built for automatons, but with a hint of China’s former splendour- gold lettering, the occasional sculpture, etc. I ask an information officer where we should wait for our flight to Ulaanbaatar. She points us to Customs. Another endless line. When we finally reach a counter, the guard asks for our boarding passes, which of course we don’t have. He informs us we first need to check in at the Miat Mongolian counter, which we’ll easily find, he says, because each station has monitors with the airline’s logo! We trudge back half way across the airport to the check-in stations. “Miat Mongolia?” I ask at the information desk. The woman stares at me as if the two words I had just strung together couldn’t possibly have been a part of her vocabulary. “Miat Mongolia? Ulaanbaatar?” I ask another. Same reaction. Quickly losing hope, I try once more. This clerk points to the China Air counter. “No no,” I say, “Miat, Miat Mongolia.” She walks over to ask a colleague. “You’re too early. Come back in four hours,” she says….We idle the time in a large restaurant on the second floor, where the dozen or so young women on staff fight over who gets to hold Augie. He takes in the attention like a star….We pass through security and make our way back to the check-in counter. To our relief, the monitors now display “Miat Mongolia”. It’s still about 3 hours from departure, but a number of passengers have already begun to queue up. Four lines have formed: the first faces a monitor that reads “business class”; I join the next line, which, like the next two, face a display called “economy”. We wait here for nearly 2 hours before the Miat clerks file in to start issuing boarding passes.Â The five lines now stretch back across the hall. What happens next is stunning.The head clerk walks up to the monitor that reads “business class” and turns it off. He walks up to my line’s monitor and changes it so it now says “business class”, calmly tells us we’re in the wrong line and beckons the business class people to step up in front of us. Maybe I am too tired, or maybe the audacity of the move still hasn’t sunk in, but all I can do is stare at him, then at N, then at the people behind me. I see N’s skin start to go red, first the neck, then her face. I’ve seen this buildup a few times before and defensively take a step back. She storms over to the guy, Augie in one arm, her purse in the other. This man is about to learn a very important lesson. Never fuck with a tired woman holding a tired baby.”You just eliminated an entire line of people. We’ve been waiting here for 2 hours!” I admire the guy for trying to get a word in. I wonder if this is what’s needed to bring down the bureaucratic regime in China:Â a few planeloads of nursing mothers, strategically dispatched to a few key ministries. Seeing the hopelessness of his situation, the clerk finally asks a colleague to open another line. The people in our line are so happy they almost applaud. “I think my wife just guaranteed our luggage will end up in Siberia,” I whisper to the man standing behind me.With boarding passes in hand, we get back into the customs line. Another long wait. At the counter, the man asks for the departure card we were handed on the plane. I give him the card, which he promptly hands back to me, saying I need to use pen not pencil, as I had done. I tell him I don’t have a pen. He points to a table with a stack of empty departure cards and a pen hanging by a string nailed to the table. We step out of line and walk over to the table. What is connected to the string is only the plastic pen casing. No problem, as aÂ sympathetic passenger in line hands me her pen. Ha! Card now complete, we go back to the same guy. I hand him the card, which he promptly hands back to me. “You each need to fill out one.” I look around for the hidden camera that is recording this for China’s Funniest Videos. The flight attendant had told me quite clearly that only one departure card was necessary per family. I decide not to raise this point now, nor ask him why he couldn’t tell me that the first time, when I handed him the single card. It takes all of my self control not to press the “Poor =( ” button. For Augie’s card, we enter baby as occupation, and let him sign his own card.Finally reach our gate. I help N and Augie settle in and head back to a Coffee Time stand for a needed pick-me-up. Not having bothered to change currency, I ask the young woman behind the counter if I could pay in U.S. dollars. “Yes!” she exclaims. “Yes!?” I exclaim. “Well then I’ll have a large double-shot latte,” I say. Blank stare. “Number 4,” I clarify. The total comes to 24 yuan. I hand her a $10 bill. Her face crimps into a confused look as she stares at my money. She calls over her pimpled coworker. They call over the manager. Deep discussion ensues. The manager hands me back the bill. “Too old, can’t accept.” Of course she can’t. “Hey, by any chance, are you related to the guy at the Miat Mongolian check-in counter?” I ask.

Tags: airport, beijing, mongolia, travels

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Why are we going to Mongolia?

fionda — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 03:54:14 +0000

In 1998, scientists at Lamont-Doherty’s Tree Ring Laboratory and their colleagues in Mongolia found a Siberian pine tree in the Tarvagatay Mountains of Mongolia that dated back to 262 A.D. This old timer was a relict tree, dead since 496 A.D., enduring centuries of harsh weather at elevational tree line but not decomposing because it never touched the ground. It was a lucky find. They also cored living trees at the site, known as Solongotyn Davaa, or Sol Dav. The oldest of among these dated to the year 1428. In all, they harvested some 30 samples for analysis, including a good number of additional relict trees.By matching patterns in the rings, the dendrochronologists were able to connect the old timer to the other relict tree samples, and then connected those to the ones from living trees samples to ultimately get an uninterrupted temperature reconstruction from 262 to 1999.Next week, they’re going back to Sol Dav [map], to try to beat their record and to hopefully extend the chronology to 0 A.D.

Tags: dendrochronology, mongolia, travels

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Preparing for Mongolia

fionda — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 13:49:15 +0000

Our trip is less than a week away. After much indecision, we decided to take our little boy. Now, traveling to Mongolia for a two-week field excursion in the bush is one thing, doing so with an 18-month-old adds a level of anxiety that only a parent can appreciate. Allow me to list a few fears. Tetanus, hepatitis A, gut-bombing bacteria, the bubonic plague, drunk drivers, Russian jeeps, plane crashes, hypothermia, and marmots. Ok, I’m not sure about the marmots. This one here looks harmless enough, but can I ever really get a “sense of its soul”? We decided to take him with us not because it will be a formative experience for him, but for us as parents. We don’t want our fears to fundamentally change our approach to life, with or without children, although we recognize that a certain level of precaution is necessary when traveling with young ones. Since this is a research trip, we have the luxury of being able to ship much of our gear ahead of time. Food is a big concern since most adults we know that have visited to Mongolia have gotten sick at some point; for a toddler, a bad case of diarrhea can be quite dangerous. We’ll be heading out into the field with two jeeps with decent storage space. Here’s what we packed for our beloved Augú:

Food

20 thin packs of cooked wild salmon
cans of fruit, corn, string beans, peas, salmon (he likes salmon)
almond butter
raisins
nutella
oatmeal
rice cereal
lentils
pasta (barilla plus)
organic fruit rollups

Gear

waterproof breathable jacket with hood
long underwear
fleece pants
huge sun hat
closed-toe shoes
sandals
car seat
baby carrier
bug net
About 100 diapers and two packs of wipes
Probiotics
Pedialyte (we tried to ship it DHL with the rest of our food, but were told that customs would reject any package that had containers full of liquid, so we’re packing it in with our check-in luggage) I’ve also written down the recipe for d-i-y oral rehydration solution
sunshirt
sun overalls
wool socks
wellies
muddy buddy
firstaid kit
organic bug spray and afterbite lotion
sunscreen
disinfectant for hands
emergency contact information
Hep A shot
vitamins
wool sweater and pants
toys
crayons
paper

Tags: baby gear, gear, mongolia, travels

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