Bus, Vodka, Taïga

Northern Mongolia

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My dear friends, it’s been 2 weeks since I last wrote about my trip. I haven’t had much time to write again but I’m now sitting in the train with 24 hours ahead of me, so here’s the update on my Mongolian and Russian adventures!  

So as I said in my last email my little group of friends split into 4 different directions. I myself took a 36 hours-long bus back to Ulan-Bator, a necessary stop before heading north, since all buses in Mongolia depart from the capital. 

The bus played loud Mongolian music all the way. At some points it stopped between two rows of facades that seem to stand on nothingness. Wooden or concrete blocks with a Soviet look on both sides of the “road”, making this empty street look like a ghost village. Behind the heavy doors is a restaurant, where one can eat buuz -steamed meat dumplings-or homemade noodles, made with the same dough as the buuz and served with the same meat. On each table stands a thermos of lightly salted milk tea. On the other side of the street is a small shop, where a group of Mongols is having a heated discussion. They buy a bottle of vodka, change their minds, get 2 bottles instead and a pack of cards. For the rest of the ride they bet and drank at the back of the bus. Once the bottles emptied they took turns to ask the driver to stop every 40 minutes to satisfy natural necessities. It was a long bus ride. Very, very long. 

Once in Ulan-Bator I suddenly got a kind of phobia at the idea of taking another 15 hours bus ride. I just couldn’t do it. So I stayed there, enjoying the shower and a sitting toilet for 2 days, and eating vegetables. 

Murun, up north, looks already a bit like Siberia, with wooden houses and the forest, the taïga. When I finally reached I was greeted by Saraa, woman of influence in her community. Saraa started her own ngo called “life of circle” in 2010 in order to help isolated women in Mongolia. She manages 5 self-help groups of 15 to 20 women, organizes activities, makes partnerships with businesses in the city to sell their artifacts and so on. Her house is always full of women who come to her for advice.  She also lives with her 2 kids, her mother and a chaman from the Tsatan ethnic, a population that raises reindeers. In 2017 she got elected mayor of Murun, without being member of any party. Her projects are now to make a plan to better manage waste in her city, to plant trees and to involve men in her projects. She feels like there is a big issue with men and alcoholism in Mongolia and wants to give the men a space to express their feelings without alcohol. She hopes to find a way so that men stop abandoning their wives and kids.

With all these activities Saraa had little time for me, so I kept myself busy by planting the seeds that I collected during my travels. I made small greenhouses with recycled materials that I found in the city and tried different techniques of painting. All that under the constant stare of the chaman, who seemed very interested in everything I was doing. She kept trying to communicate with me with signs and noises. She asked how many reindeers I have (signing horns with her fingers on her head and making sounds) and if I live in a tent in France. She also helped me with the planting. Hopefully something grows… 

As a short history recap Mongolia originally practices chamanisn. After the fall of Chinggis Khan’s empire the country fell under the influence of China, and Buddhism got really strong. Then the Soviets took control of the country and destroyed most of the monasteries. Since the independence, Mongols have gone back to Buddhism and chamanism and they are trying to find their roots back by celebrating culture as it was under Chinggis Khan’s reign. 

Anyway, at some point I went to the bus station to inquire about theway to go to Russia. I was told that a minivan left that same day. They didn’t know when the next one would leave, or if there would be a next one. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe never. I did not hesitate, I grabbed my backpack, said goodbye to my chaman friend and left. 19 hours in this minivan, loud Mongolian music non-stop, breaks in ghost towns and frontier crossing. I finally arrived in Ulan-Ude, Russia, and was welcomed by a huge sculpture representing the head of Lenin. 

From their I took the trans-Siberian train number 001, the Vladivostok-Moscow one that passes around the Baikal lake, still frozen on that portion. I stopped in Irkutsk, when I spent a few days visiting the orthodox churches and then did a trek along the lake, but I’ll tell you more about that in my next email, this one is already long enough. 

Give me some news!  

Love, 

Lucile 

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