SIBERIA - RUSSIA

29th Apr - 3rd May 2012

Rather a full carriage on the train going from UB up to Irkutsk, and initially there was only the one carriage going there for the two night journey. I was the fourth in our compartment along with Tim, Louise and Jake. Not big compartments either. There was no dining car ( we had been warned ) and so rations were duly taken on board. The train set off at 2110hrs and arrived at the border town of Suche Baator early morning. It spent a long time static even though the Mongolian customs were formally efficient and didn’t take too long, and we could get off to use the station ‘facilities’ at 150 Tugrik ( 10 cents ) a go; for those fortunate enough to have kept some Tugriks that is. I think other carriages were being connected/disconnected here as many Mongolians appeared to be getting on carrying large bags of ‘stuff’. We set off again at about 1100hrs (L). Times from here onwards become a little confused as all the train times are as per Moscow time which is 5 hours behind local (L) time in Irkutsk, but Irkutsk is 1 hour ahead of Ulaan Baator, so we had much discussion as to what time it was where. We arrived at the nondescript Russian rail ‘entry’ village, Naushki, half-an-hour later where the characteristically brusque customs and immigration officials gave our compartment a good going over, including a search by a dog which didn’t even look interested in our rations bags. The unsmiling lady checking our passports made us stand up individually, like naughty schoolboys, answer our name with n’er a please or thank you, told us to sit down again and glowered as she tried to find discrepancies. Talking of which, nearly all the officials checking passports from Vietnam onwards have been female. Should I read anything into this? Anyway, they weren’t too bad. I suspect they were much more interested in the Mongolians who were obviously bringing ‘stuff’ into Russia to sell. It was noticed that bags of clothes were being much moved around and hidden. Our rather large ( read zeppelinesque ) Russian lady carriage attendant appeared to be under serious interrogation at one point. Maybe she was thin and concealing the contents of a duty-free shop under her uniform. We moved on about five hours later and I’m not sure who or what, if anything, had been offloaded, locked up, shot or disposed of. Another day and night followed on the train. The terrain was flat and cold with poor looking villages consisting of wooden huts for the most part, and a couple of smoke belching factories.

Left: An example of such a village on the shore of a large frozen lake somewhere south of Irkutsk. We couldn’t work out what it was called. There were increasing numbers of impoverished looking wooden steep roofed rabbit-hutch homes grouped together into communes by wooden fences around the perimeter. There were several houses which had obviously burned down, or at least the roofs had caught fire. I suspect the combination of cold weather, boredom, no pubs, inflammable buildings and plenty of cheap vodka kept the local Fire Brigade busy, if there was one, which I doubt. 

Right: This is a typical example of countryside Siberian architecture. Most of the roofs were this shape and made from corrugated iron.

We arrived at Irkutsk station at 0730hrs (L). It was rather an impressive station building, indeed one of the best looking in Russia I was told. Before the ‘revolution’ Irkutsk was home to many successful businesses and prosperous merchants and was a very wealthy city. The Bolsheviks soon put paid to that! Unfortunately I forgot to photograph it because we were busy getting rubles out of an ATM machine and then herded onto a minibus by our delightful guide, Katya. 

Onwards straight away to the village of Listvyanka, 70km distant on the south-west corner of Lake Baikal. This is a popular spot for tourists, both local and foreign, and sometimes referred to as the Baikal Riviera ( rather stretching a point there I feel ). In the winter there is skiing, snow-mobiling, dog-sledding, ice-fishing, ice-sculpting and it is possible to drive on and across the frozen lake. In the summer it is warm and offers swimming, sailing, scuba diving, hiking, boat cruises, jet-skiing, horse trekking and lounging on beaches. We were arriving just as the ice was starting to break up, but well before it got warm, so recreational facilities were a bit limited. Scuba diving under the ice was an option which I had no difficulty in resisting. 

It was over the May Day holiday and some Russian tourists, and locals, were taking advantage of the sunny weather ( if not much above freezing ) to have picnics on the pebble and ice-fringed beach ( left ). These involved warm clothing, a bonfire and copious supplies of vodka.

We were accommodated in a ‘local home-stay’, a guest house, for two nights which was comfortable and provided breakfast and supper all cooked by the lady who lived there, or in an annex next door to be precise, and the food was very good. She insisted on giving a substantial breakfast. We provided our own wine from the village shop.

Katya took us on a tour of the village which included looking at a weird collection of old scrap vehicles, the owner of which was an ‘artist’ who made sculptures from the recovered car parts ( right ). He named it a ‘Retro Park’. It brought back memories of my Amish looking companion, Mike, on the train from Hanoi who was dedicated to restoring such ancient vehicles. I don’t think he would have approved.

Left: We visited the local church, that of St. Nicholas. These places are of the Greek Orthodox variety; you know, the ones whose vicars wear tall black hats and long grey curly beards. On the down side, they have no seats inside. Difficult to nod off during the sermon. On the plus side, unlike so many British village churches, they tend to be well heated. I suppose that explains the no seats rule.

The area around here is ‘Buryat’ country. The Buryats have there own language but I gather it is slowly dying out as local schools stop teaching in it.  These people were also fiercely independent and were eventually brought kicking and screaming under control of Tsarist Russia by Cossacks who were sent to the area. Actually both the Russians and Buryats benefitted eventually; the Russians from learning how to live, hunt and profit from the local resources and the Buryats from the technology and knowhow which was brought in. The area was, and still is to a certain extent, famous for it’s wild mink and sable hunting. The fur trade back in the old days was highly profitable and the Cossack garrison in Urkutsk was employed in collecting taxes from the fur traders. 

There are also, supposedly, bears in the vicinity although a long standing local guide said the nearest he had come to seeing one was finding, on two occasions, some old bear shit in the woods. He wasn't looking hard enough.

We walked to the ‘Limnological Museum’. There is bugger all public transport around this village which, although not having many houses, hotels and other buildings, stretches for 3 miles along the lake shore. We walked an invigorating 2 miles to the museum. Limnology, as I am sure you know, is the study of lakes. Katya is a bit of an expert on the subject and gave us a detailed and interesting explanation of the exhibits. Lake Baikal is an important lake and has many impressive features. For a start it is the biggest freshwater lake in the world. It holds enough water to fill all the Canadian Great Lakes and still have plenty of water left over. Indeed it holds 20% of the world’s fresh water. It is also the deepest at 1637m ( 5369ft ). It is 636km long and between 20 - 74km wide. 

Left: This diagram, if you click on and enlarge, will give the salient information; if you’re interested that is.

The water is extremely pure ( like distilled water we were told ) except for a bit at the Irkutsk end which suffers from the effluent from a wood pulping factory. It can’t be closed down due to ‘economic’ reasons. A fella’s gotta earn a livin’ Guv.

Right: Amongst all the thousands of fish and life-forms living in the lake are these strange looking ‘Nerpa’ seals. They look like they have been got at by someone with a car-tyre pump! Excuse the bad photo but there were two of them in an aquarium at the museum and they were dashing madly around and wouldn’t stop to have their picture taken. Lively little blighters.

Left: There are also sturgeon. They are protected, as are the Nerpa seals. It’s the ones in Caspian Sea that the caviar comes from.

The Dendrology Park ( trees ) is next door but I didn’t visit that, and there is also a big fish and tourist tat market at the other end of the village with the only hotel/building with WiFi (free). One or two good, if expensive, restaurants along the lakeside.

The next day I decided to take up the offer of some quad-biking. Tim and his crew decided to go on what was termed a ‘soft walk’. The quad-biking was fun and it took an hour to travel along some quite challenging ( for me ) tracks around the forest. 

Right: A stop to take a photo. Many deep muddy pools, rutted tracks, slippery slopes and even a stream bed to be negotiated. I was the only other ‘biker’ and just followed my guide in blind and trusting faith that we wouldn’t get stuck or, worse, tip over. I was provided with helmet, waterproof trousers, jacket and welly boots which, before we set off, I thought was a bit OTT. They proved necessary. Well, not the helmet thankfully.

Off up the hill behind to find what was a chair-lift for a winter ski run. It was quite a hike to the lift which, out of the skiing season, takes passengers to an observation point at the top. Left: Looking south-west over the lake with the outlet ( unfrozen bit ) to the Angara river which flows through Irkutsk. There are over 300 rivers and streams flowing into Lake Baikal and only this one flowing out. It eventually exits somewhere up in the Arctic sea.

There is a bar/cafe up here which is the domain of a particularly surly and unhelpful bar ‘maid’. I eventually convinced the miserable bag to sell me, at exhorbitant price, a bottle of beer. She must have been sent there as a form of exile after being kicked out of a salt mine for being grumpy.

Back at our house to meet Tim and Co. who said they had had a great hike. 4 hours of healthy walking up and down near-verticle snow covered hillside and sometimes even on paths. This was the so-called ‘soft walk’. They said any ‘harder walk’ would be difficult to contemplate short of mountaineering. 

Right: This is one of the ostentatious houses along the lakeside road. I believe that several wealthy Siberians have built holiday homes here. Probably the sort of minor oligarcs ( salt mine owners ) a scale or two down from the owners of prestigious British football clubs with properties in London, New York, Gstaad and Monte Carlo.

The next day Tim and co. set off early to catch a train to Tomsk. I was taken back to Irkutsk later to meet up again with the lovely Katya for a walking tour of ( part of ) the city. I was to stay at the Angara Hotel; not a bad place and paid for as part of my trip with Monkey Business. Nothing is cheap, I have found, in Russia. To leave a bag in their luggage room costs $4 equivalent; free most other places I’ve been....apart from Youth Hostels in Australia.

Left: This is the London Pub, the bar and dining room of the hotel. Pleasant place but pricey.

Katya is a most entertaining and knowledgeable guide. Her grasp of local and indeed Russian history is impressive. She and I set off around the town and saw most of the highlights remaining from the Cossack occupation in 1661,  the buildings erected by the wealthy merchants, the worthy civilising efforts of the ‘Decembrists’ after their exile here following the abortive 1825 Moscow uprising, the great fire in 1879 which destroyed 80% of the wooden built city, the sites of happenings during and post-‘revolution’ ( Irkutsk held out against the Bolsheviks until 1920 ), and subsequent renovation and rebuilding post Soviet time ( since 1990 ). Irkutsk, population 650,000, is a big University city with 27 Universities of all kinds. It therefore has a bit of a lively social scene with myriad bars and cafes. Quite a jolly place really and nothing like I had imagined. It is the unofficial capital city of Eastern Siberia.

Right: There are several memorials to military heroes, both Tsarist and Soviet, and a large WW2 ‘eternal flame’ in a garden which is guarded during the day by squads of student ‘soldiers’ who do a goose-stepping drill routine to change the guard every 15 minutes, with an hour’s break for lunch. I think this might be done just over the present week or so which is the period of some important military remembrance functions and parades. There were lots of student types handing out black and orange lengths of 'victory' medal ribbon which you were supposed to tie onto yourself somewhere.

Left: A recently re-erected monument to a Cossack leader ( name forgotten ) who was credited with successfully occupying the district in 1661. What a large rifle he’s got! Many monuments here have been recast and rebuilt since their destruction by Bolsheviks following the ‘revolution’. One such, at a monastery on the outskirts of the city, is to the White Army commander, Admiral Kolchak, who resisted the Red Army onslaught for a long time. He was executed at this monastery after the Reds eventually captured the place in 1920.

Right: Another ( sorry to bore you ) monument, again re-made and re-erected since 1990, is to Tsar Alexandre 111. He was considered a jolly good chap during whose reign there were no wars and he was credited with getting the trans-Siberian railway built. Some describe him here as holdng an invisible balloon in his right hand.

Left: And of course we musn’t forget the obligatory statue of Vladimir Illyich Lenin ( aka Mr Ulyanov ) who features in characteristic pose on Ul. Karla Marxsa.

Right: And while we’re at it, the statue dedicated to all the tourists of which there are increasing numbers.

Left: Many churches of several denominations feature throughout the city. The most popular being the Russian Orthodox with their Disney Baroque style. This is one such ( can’t remember which ) but not, by far, the most elaborate. 

Right: The main square, and gardens are the place to hang out, especially during the summer when the flowers bloom and music events, parades and other entertainment takes place. The large, indeed impressive, orange building at the far end is the headquarters of the Siberian coal industry. Lots of mines in Siberia although I forgot to ask where the notorious ‘salt mines’ are in which particularly naughty exiles were condemned to work. Maybe they still are.

Left: This building is now a school. It is an example of many of the elaborate buildings constructed in Victorian times by wealthy Irkutskians. 

Right: Another buiding of significance is this cream coloured job down by the river. It was, at the time of the revolution, the house of the Governor or Mayor. It featured in a Grand Shoot-Out in 1920 when occupied by White Army soldiers who battled it out with Red Army soldiers occupying the red brick building 100yds beyond. 170 dead. The red brick building had belonged to the Siberian Geographical Society ( a Club for Victorian-style Gentlemen Explorers of the day ). It is now the Regional Museum.

Left: A couple of original examples of the wooden houses that almost entirely made up Irkutsk before the Great Fire in 1879. These two are still lived in. Following the fire buidings were, wisely, rebuilt in stone. There is ongoing construction of many new old-style wooden buildings, hopefully with better fire protection, in a prestigious city centre area to recreate the old-town feel to cater for tourists and include expensive up-market shops and restaurants.

Right: The Oxford Street of Urkutsk. There are some reasonable shops; lots of prestigious clothes shops.

Left: As with many towns in Russia ( I’m told ), Irkutsk has a permanent brick built site for the circus. Circuses are still very popular and feature many different acts along with all the animal ones. This one puts on performances at the weekends. Outside lots of miniature cars were lined up for children’s rides, I suppose.

Right: As well as some Shetland pony equivalents. 

Left: Among many pubs and bars was this one, Liverpool, into which we went for a quick snifter. It is dedicated to the Beatles, and Liverpool FC. Inside, down in the cellar bar, are hundreds of Beatles era photos and memorabilia with old records stuck to the ceiling. Live bands perform ( Beatles songs and the like ) at weekends. There must be an enthusiastic following in Irkutsk.

Right: My knowledgeable guide, Katya. She works for a tour company ( used by Monkey Business ) called Aqua Eco. They were most efficient. Thanks Katya.

Next off to catch the trans-Siberian #1 ( expresish ) train to Moscow. It is a 72 hour journey involving three nights on board.

MONGOLIA

25th - 28th Apr 2012

Chinggis Khaan statue (which you can climb up via stairs in its foreleg)

The train left Beijing Main Station at 0805hrs on the 24th. I shared a 1st Class compartment with an amusing chap ( computers ) from London, called John. He was travelling through Asia and would be ending up in Germany I think. Anyway, he was good company.

There was a loose group of nine of us who had booked this journey throught the same agency which, if you are interested, has proved extemely helpful and efficient, and is called ‘Monkeybusiness’. Their office in Beijing is manned by Matt ( ex-Melbourne ), Andy ( ex-Oxford ) and Joanne ( Beijing ). 

It was her ( right ) who came to see us off and made sure we got on the correct train with the correct tickets.

The journey north-west through China took us over some rugged mountainous areas but the scenery was a bit spoilt due to the fact that it was misty and raining. Lots of tunnels. We went through Zhangjiakou, Datong and Jining...for those nerds with an atlas out.

Lunch in the Chinese dining car was edible and they sold some rather strange tasting beer. As we approached the Mongolian border the countyside became much flatter. 

I must say that all the towns and villages we passed looked remarkably dour, grey and uninviting. In fact, outside the centre of Beijing and, notably, in Tianjin, I haven’t seen a single building in China of any architectural merit, and many houses look semi-derelict. Out in the sticks they appear to build purely functional structures and with no attempt at decoration or aesthetics. For some unknown reason the only colour they use, other than some yellow on red signs, are much used blue corrugated iron roofs. So it’s basicallly blue and grey all the way. I suppose the charming Red Guards destroyed all the smart houses in their Cultural Revolution. Needless to say the one group of dull homes I photo'd ( right ) didn't have blue roofs.

We arrived at the border town of Erlian in the dark at 8.30pm and were ‘checked-out’ by Chinese customs and immigration. The train was to be here until about 11.00pm due to the fact that the ‘bogeys’ ( undercarriage ) had to be changed because the Mongolians use the Russian ( Stalin imposed ) railway guage which is wider than the standard 4’8” Chinese guage. Some of us got off the train to do some shopping in a supermarket which was still open. Others stayed on-board and were shunted off to some sidings for the wheel change procedure which, they told us, was an interesting and efficiently carried out procedure which involved the carriages being jacked up, the old bogeys slid off and replaced by wider guage ones.

We stopped again somewhere on the Mongolian side for their immigration procedures and eventually rolled on at 2.00am. I must have slept well because I woke up at 10.30am. The scenery had changed dramatically because we were now passing through the eastern part of the Gobi desert. The skies were blue and the land was arid brown sandy earth, flat as a pancake. There were even herds of woolly double-humped bactrian camels. We had been through Sainshand and passed abeam Choir, an ex-Soviet military airbase. 

Brunch was taken in the Mongolian dining car ( left ) which had magically replaced the previous Chinese one. This carriage was a work of art! The food wasn’t too bad either. 

On approaching Ulaan Bataar there were increasing signs of habitation by way of ‘gers’ , with herds of horses, sheep and cattle roaming the steppes. As you may know the ‘ger’ is the traditional Mongolian portable family dwelling consisting of a circular wooden frame with a canvas and felt covering. The land was still brown with a covering of sparse coarse grasses; the animals seemed to be in good condition nevertheless. I couldn't get a decent pic featuring a settlement plus livestock.

We got into Ulaan Baator at about 1.20pm and were met by our charming, and pretty, Mongolian guide Zaya ( left ). She is a teacher in her normal day job. We were taken straight away on a brief tour of the city which included the only temple/monastery in the place left undestroyed by the Soviets.....

....The Gandan Monastery ( right ). All the Mongolian Tibetan style Buddhist temples and monuments ( as with the one above ) are surrounded by or contain lots of brass prayer wheels of varying size. You are supposed to walk around each place, or structure, clockwise, three times, spinning the prayer wheels as you go! It is time consuming and hard on the wrist so us non-believers only did it once. At least you didn't have to take shoes off inside the temple; far too chilly for that sort of nonsense.

Then to the main, central, square; Sukhbaatar Square, named after the hero who liberated present day Mongolia from the grip of the Chinese and the Mad Baron, Baron von Ungern-Sternberg ( if you want a good read about a really weird bloodthirsty madman, then stories about this lunatic are worth a decco ), in 1921. The statue ( left ) is of said Damdin Sukhbaatar. Note the writing down the left side. This is original cursive Mongolian script and read top to bottom, left to right. It has been mostly replaced nowadays by Russian Cyrillic script. The Mongolian language sounds rather gutteral and is nothing like Russian or Chinese, or anything else for that matter. It is, apparently, very difficult to learn; more so than Chinese. I only learnt the words for 'cheers' which sounds like 'tosch toi'. 

Right: The Parliament, or Government, building on the north side of the square. Mongolia now has what is considered a true working democratic government with free and fair elections. The Mongolian Revolutionary People's Party ( MRPP ) rules.

The real hero of the people is, of course, none other than Chinggis Khaan ( I use the local anglicised spelling for dear old Genghis Khan ). They really do worship him. It is his statue which sits under the central arch, flanked by other supporting warriors of those days including Kublai Khaan. 

Left: The Mongolian flag. The colours and symbols all have a meaning.

We were a sort of loose group of eight by this stage, split into two parties. I was lumped in with another Brit ( living in Hong Kong ) called Tim, a CNN TV producer, and his daughter Louise and her boyfriend Jake. They were good company and most politely, and patiently, put up with me. We were to be together for several days. Tim had been to university in Ulaan Baatar and must be one of the few foreigners who can speak Mongolian, as well as Russian and Mandarin.

 We were herded off into a hotel for a communal Japanese style shower and bath, a bit like a sheep-dip. This was because we hadn't had a proper wash since Beijing and there were to be no showers for a couple of days at our next port of call out in the middle of nowhere. 

Then into a minibus for the 60 km journey east of Ulaan Bataar ( UB from now on ) to the Elstei Ger Lodge. En route we stopped to admire a couple of eagles ( these are still used to hunt with ), a vast angry looking black vulture and a falcon which was, incongruously, perched on a stuffed wolf. All 'shitehawks' in the Geordie vernacular, apart from the wolf of course which is a 'derg'. As you may be aware, there are only three types of bird in the Geordie Book of Bords namely; spuggies, craas and shitehawks. Simple. 

Left: Our camp. We lived in gers and I got one to myself; they had probably been warned about my snoring. It really was out on the steppe with nowt around for miles, except the enormous metal statue of Chinggis which was about three miles away. More about that later.

We were to be here for two nights

Right: Inside my ger. Outside the skies were blue but the temperature was freezing and there was a brisk breeze which cut like a knife. I was supremely grateful now that I had lugged my heavy cold weather clothing with me. The last time I had needed it was in the south island of New Zealand, whenever that was. The coal/wood stove was seriously effective and inside this 'tent' it was as warm as toast. We left our doors unlatched and a camp servant came around at all times of the day and night to top it up and keep it alight. I remember he came in at least three times during the night! The only drawback to this accommodation was that the loos were about 200 yards away cross country which was not altogether convenient. There was a little tank of water above a sink to wash a bit of you in.

Left: The Mess ger. Excellent food was served and all agreeable to the delicate Western palate. Luckily, I think, we had arrived before the summer season where the standard drink and sustenance is 'araig', or fermented mares' milk. The locals drink it by the gallon but it is only produced in the summer months. Phew!

Vodka in the winter. Definitely not that disgusting Chinese paint stripper masquerading as a drink for humans which Tim produced one night....just to get rid of the poisonous stuff I suspect, and/or those that drank it.

Right: Some of our team. The locals, one on the right, normally wore the long coat called a 'del'. It was thick sheepskin inside with a coarse silk exterior. I was told they are supremely warm. They are always colourful.

We set off in two groups on horseback to visit the ger of a nomad family from Kazakhstan, who entertained us to lunch. Actually these horses were really tough little ponies about 13.2hh. They lived wild in herds and were very low maintenance, it seemed. The Mongolian horseman presumably knew which one was which and just went out to catch enough in the morning, and when finished with they were just turned loose. 

Right: In the ger of our Kazakh nomad hosts. Lots of sweets, bread and horse meat on offer. The other standard beverage is hot salted tea, often including butter and mutton fat to give it a bit of body. Hmmmm. They even had a telly! On approach to a stranger's ger it is customary to shout 'hold your dogs'. We realised the sense of this because every homestead is guarded by enormous slavering rabid brutes which look as if they would rip you apart as soon as look at you. Ger dwellers are notoriously generous to passers by and any stranger can rely on a meal and even a place to sleep when travelling. Assuming, of course, that the resident dog hasn't eaten him first.

After lunch our very small horde rode on to visit the aforementioned enormous shiny metal statue of Chinggis ( see pic at top ). I am told that this is situated where it is ( in the middle of bugger-all ) as a focal point for Mongolians who like to get out of UB to come to camp in the semi-built camp-sites surrounding the statue, to drink lots of vodka, socialise and to pay homage to their hero.

It is also supposed to be the hill where Chinggis picked up, or dropped ( can't remember which ) his fabled 'golden whip'. Right: This is supposed to be an enlarged version of said golden whip. Much of the life, and death, of Chinggis is shrouded in mystery. He was born with the name Temujin in 1162, but noone is sure exactly where, or indeed where, when or how he died. He left no written records, monuments or artefacts to be remembered by. He definitely built the biggest empire ever.

The building at the base houses a museum of artefacts supposedly recovered from the period of the Mongol empire; brooches, weapons, horse equipment etc. There is also a place to dress up in Mongol horde gear to have your photo taken. No thanks. There is also what is considered to be the biggest leather Mongol boot in existence ( left ) made out of hundreds of goats' skin leather. I have no reason to doubt this.

A lift takes you up one of the horses forelegs to a door at the top from which you can climb up some steps along the horse's neck to stand on top of it's head. Right: Here we are looking back at GK's face. 

Left: The horse-master was a wizened old guy who knew his stuff. He gave you a bollocking if you didn't do what you were told. Considering he had lots of possibly lunatic tourists to look after, and any injuries would not be good publicity, one can understand his concern. He is seen here carrying a pole with a loop of rope on the end to catch horses with. These little animals have a very short stride and were not the most comfortable things to ride, but the saddles were well padded and they are very docile. We were given an interesting display of how to 'break' the young ponies. A fit young Mongolian is plonked on it's back and locks his legs underneath it's belly and let go. After about 20 mins of bucking bronco style antics he is still on top and the pony is knackered. They then bung a saddle on. Job done in under an hour. None of your fancy 'horse-whispering' crap here. 

On return to UB we had a day and night to explore the place. The hotel ( Bayangol ) where we stayed was perfectly comfortable and was probably the first hotel I have stayed in ( for a long time ) which has the sensible arrangement of the light switches by your bed being slightly illuminated ( when off ), and with clear markings of what they are for. If you wake up in the night and need to go for a pee, no fumbling and thrashing around tipping over glasses, cups or lamps on a side table to locate a carefully hidden light switch. Why can't more hotels do this.

That evening I, and some others, found ourselves in one of the several Oirish bears which have, inevitably, found their way here.

This place, right, was quite an upmarket establishment and the food and drink was not cheap.  It had Guiness on tap. UB has no shortage of watering holes.

The next day we went to visit the Bogd Khaan's Winter Palace on the southern edge of the city. The Bogd Khaan was the King in past times, and 'living Buddha'. The last one, the 8th, ( not called Henry ) lived in this palace until he died, under suspicious circumstances...poisoned they reckon, in 1924. The Soviets pulled down all the palaces, as well as purging monks and any other reactionary elements ( 27,000 people killed at the behest of Joe Stalin which accounted for 3% of the population at the time ), except for this one which they kept as a museum. Above: Jake, Louise and Tim outside one of the Winter Palace buildings.

Right: Not sure who these represent, but the King on the right has a rat in his left hand. This is not my rat; it is quite a coincidence because it looks very similar. 

The eighth, and last, Bogd Khaan was somewhat eccentric and kept a private zoo and a large collection of stuffed animals, now rather moth-eaten. He also had a ger covered by the skins of 150 snow leopards ( left ). Not too many snow leopards around now, if any. I wonder why not.

Right: His carriage was made in Britain. Where else. His sedan chair is to the right of the picture.

Next up to the top of a hill to the south of the city, 626 steps to be precise, to the Zaisan Memorial ( left ) built by the Soviets to honour the war dead. It is a typically hideous structure.........

........and a focal point for acres of graffiti ( right ), and lots of litter. The Mongols are not good with litter and even some outlying areas of the steppe are scattered with broken bottles and plastic bags, but......

.....it provides a good view point looking north over the city of UB. Did I mention the population of Mongolia is just under 3 million and with a land area almost the size of Western Europe? Over 1 million of them live in UB. Plenty of space and lots of wealth in terms of mineral resources.  

Right: At the base of the hill is this old Soviet tank (T34?). It was this machine, or similar, crewed by Mongolians, that first entered Berlin at the vanguard of the Soviet occupation in WW2.

One of the more interesting features of Mongolia, and specifically the Gobi desert, is the abundance of dinosaur bones, and eggs, around the place. There have been numerous palaeontologists who have dug up many often quite intact skeletons of 80 million year-old monsters. Some of these are displayed in the UB Natural History Museum. This museum is, on the whole, rather decrepit and dull and many of the other exhibits very moth-eaten, flea-bitten and falling apart, but the two palaeontology halls are unique in the quantity and quality of 70/80 million year old bones. I paid 5000 Tugrik extra ( $4 ) to bring my camera in but was still not allowed to take pics of the dinosaurs' remains. The surly female guard did not offer any reason for this. But I did anyway. Their star exhibit is of the entwined skeletons of a velociraptor fighting a protoceratops which were preserved intact due to the creatures being suddenly buried by a collapsing sand dune. Unfortunately this extraordinary exhibit is often away on loan, as indeed it was, in Seoul, on the day I visited.

Left: An almost complete, and genuine, skeleton of a Tarbosaurus. I couldn't get closer because Ms Whiplash was lurking around the corner and would have arrested me had she seen me with my camera out.

Right: Skeleton of the head one of those carnivorous dinosaurs with a beak. There were so many exhibits here of ancient and huge creatures it would be the envy of any museum worldwide, I suspect. 

Left: A clutch of dinosaur eggs ( at 70 million years-old somewhat past their sell-by date I fear ). Many other shapes and sizes of dinosaur eggs were here. Some looked like fossilised buns and others like small footballs.

Right: A pair of well preserved hairy mammoth tusks.

There was also a large space devoted to the re-establishment of that rare wild horse, the Przewalski or, in local terms, the Takhi horse. They had nearly become extinct but thanks to some being donated from European zoos they have now managed to multiply in a protected National Park to the west of UB.

UB has many things to see which I didn't have time to explore. It is a place of great potential and promise and has made great strides since throwing off the Soviet yoke in 1990. Having said that, the Soviets did a lot of good ( apart from their architecture ) in educating and giving the Mongolians technology and the wherewithal to develop their country. In fact, at the time, Mongolia needed and greatly benefitted from Soviet assistance. They still much prefer the Russians to the Chinese and, for a reason which escaped me, have a close and friendly relationship with the Koreans.

Left: They still have the almost mandatory statue of Mr Lenin in his characteristically pugnacious pose. I think all ex-Soviet and communist countries have a standard mould for these.

Right: Also a statue of the great explorer, trader and political adviser Marco Polo who, as far as I can remember, was an adviser to the court of Kublai Khaan.

Left: So let some Chinaman have the last say on the much vaunted Chinggis himself. Whatever he might mean. By the way, the term 'yurt' is the Russian word for 'ger'. I think.

Off to catch another train tonight which heads north for about 30 hours. More to follow, when internet connections allow, from Siberia. Brrrrrrrr!