The Trans-Mongolian: homebound

Here we are. The final 30 minutes of our voyage across the Gobi Sea, homebound. Yes, this time we were successful in catching the train. In fact, we were at the station a whole hour early, reminding me how little meaning I find in the process of waiting.

I believe the character of Amanda in Tennesse Williams’ ‘The Glass Menagerie’ was inspired by our Mongolian carriage attendant. If you have never seen/read/endured this play, Amanda’s catchphrase is ‘Rise and shine, rise and shine.’ This comparison is a bit unkind. Our attendant is quite friendly and sweet and it is probably our own fault for sporting/showing off our Mongol-xel (Mongolian language). She has been chattering at us ever since we greeted her with a jenxin (authentic) ‘Sain bain oo’ (are you good). She does not seem to realise that our obliging nods and bewildered eyebrows reflect our true lack of comprehension.

She plays a game with us. She passes our cabin, jabbers something, and then turns up the volume of our In-Berth entertainment. Joyfully, the anthem known far and wide- The Mongolian Horse Song- bellows. I then turn up the Black Keys playing from my laptop. She then turns the Horse Song louder. I then resign from editing footage of the Great Wall and enjoy the cacophony. I might write to the Black Keys and suggest they employ a throat singer.

The train ride has been an enjoyable haven, with the rhythm of movement asking me to sleep, snooze, nap, lie, listen to music, poetry, Mitch turning pages of Hunter S. Thompson’s ‘The Rum Diary’ and occasionally, as a break from these rhythms, attend to Voice Box.

Last night, at the border, with the changing of the train wheels, we were jailed in customs for a number of hours. On previous Trans-Mongolian experiences, I have been allowed, even encouraged to remain on the train and witness the swapping. To my bemusement, not this time.
As you do, standing listlessly with a group of disparate people in the same derailed situation, we made friends. The Breakfast Clubesque group comprised of:

1. Two British English Teachers, Returning Home From Korea. Teaching of course - Correct English. I was a bit apprehensive to confess that Voice Box also aims to be educational even considering it’s an Australian initiative.

2. An odd, anxious woman from Bulgaria, pacing. Did you know Bulgaria and Mongolia have some Bilateral Agreement whereby Bulgarians don’t need a Mongolian visa? I was a little suspicious therefore as to why she was pacing.

3. A young Mongolian girl (is 17 considered young?) returning from a year living in Australia and her father, who had met her in Beijing.

So with our cast and with three hours of waiting, how do you think the evening panned out? Well, we drank some beer, snacked on Chinese fruit roll-ups, didn’t drink some other icky beer and waited. I understand that such experiences, in foreign countries, late at night, and with a chorus of semi-colourful characters are fatalistically designed to foster patience and compassion and incite curiosity in humanity etc etc. but I had been on a roll with editing our episode on the historic relationship between Mongolian and China and well, when you’re on a roll….

Rolling in to UB now, the ger districts are whiter than when we left, softer with the snow. The air doesn’t look cold. The rooftops of the wooden houses are brilliant strong colours, like the colours of plastic chairs in Australian primary schools, maybe other primary schools also, I’m not sure. The buildings of greater solidarity are cement rendered and painted in slightly more pastel tones and bordered with cream frames. There are two girls pulling a cart with a barrel, of water, I assume. They wear puffy, pastel winter coats, made in China, I assume.

In old folk mythology of nondescript origin, it is said that the soul travels at the pace of a camel. Fortunately, we have not flown home from Beijing. Though, my reunion may still be a few days yet. We’ll see.