Mongolia at last!

I am writing from Ulaanbaatar (and able to post directly myself now that I am in a democratic country again). The night before I got on the train I couldn't sleep because I was so excited for this next chapter to begin. The train ride was a lot of fun. My cabin compartment just had one other person, a new Indian diplomat arriving for a 2-3 year post at the Indian Embassy. He was travelling with his family's possessions, with his wife and child following a bit later. Interesting to get some insight into the life of an official like that. He has lived interesting places, and after taking this "less desirable" post means he won't have to do another more remote placement in the future.

The route took us through incredibly beautiful landscapes which made me which I could hop on and off the train. This one mountainous section with mist and lakes was especially lovely. The tunnels and open spaces were about even, and every time we popped out of a tunnel, there were varied wonderful scenes to see for about 1 minute before being swallowed by the next tunnel. It went like this: Blackness, clickety clickety clack clickety clack. Light! Steep green lush mountains dipping their feet in clear blue water, water lilies, a man fishes from the bank, mists hang in the trees. Clickety clack, flickering lights. Big flat bottomed valley with huge athletic training field in mint condition. No one around to use the track, soccer field, gymnastic area, soccer field. Secret training area for the Olympics? Clickety clack. Building anticipation with my nose to the window. What will appear next? A small village with mud brink houses and pagoda rooflines huddles next to the perfect stillness of a lake reflecting mountains. A fish jumps making a ripple... That section went for about an hour like that. Better than a good documentary. I was riveted.

In the night we went crossed the border and they had to switch all the cars to different wheels as the tracks are a smaller gauge than the tracks in China. They make the people get off, then lift the cars one by one (with their wheels attached) to another wheel unit that has smaller wheels. Took about 3 hours.

I woke in the morning and everything had changed. We were crossing the eastern edge of the Gobi desert. Scrubby plants, blowing sand that was seeping in the windows and making the hallways hazy, like we were entering a dream flashback in an old movie. I saw my first herds of livestock, some lone herdsmen. I started watching for my first ger (yurt) sighting. In the first town we stopped in, there were gers around the edge of town, with fences and yards. This is common to all Mongolian towns and cities (even UB).

About 2 hours later, we moved into greener and greener landscape, and the land started to pitch and roll as if it were a green sea with a gentle swell coming in off a far away stormy sea. I don't know why, but this landscape has called to me for a long time. In films, it created this crazy sense of longing approaching homesickness. Seeing it in person made my heart rejoice and ache from the beauty of it. I couldn't leave the window.

And then, my heart leapt at the sight of a small group of gers far from everything else, surrounded by a few groups of grazing animals. A thin trail of smoke rising from the chimneys, dogs and people working with the grazers. It looked much like what I think my home for the summer will be. Where does this desire come from to live and learn about this nomadic herding life? Why the feeling I'm coming home? Why does this landscape play a song deep in my gut? Why, when I saw a yurt in a book for the first time, did I think: "Now, that is what a house is supposed to look like!" There are not answers for these questions, but I do know I am glad to be here. Grateful to my friend Anu in Denver for helping me make the connections and offering support so I can be here. Next entry I will talk about Ulaanbaatar, the capital of the country and home to a third of the population here.