Mongolia Day 4: This is "Roughing It"

Doing the laundry in the river.  Dipping a tin pot into the river to boil and use for tea dinner.  Setting off to find a place to camp.  Bug spray.  No shower.  Using the resources at our disposal to make do... Washing up, airing out, keeping warm.  Fay has been good at gathering firewood; she sets off immediately to find good, dry timber.  Today I helped Eku set up the tent in the rain.  He's been making hearty, delicious meals every night.  The kid is young but has skills.  He might be about 23. This is his third year with Tseren as a guide.  He's a movie buff.  I think he's seen All of the Movies, which is impressive since he's never left Mongolia.  We talk about movies and The Simpsons and Family Guy. 

Today began our horse trek.  We had two pack horses.  Fay rode the same horse as yesterday. I rode a beautiful tan horse which is much more responsive and has been good for my skill level.  Very easy to ride up to a trot and loves being at the head of the pack.  I'm glad we took some lessons before we went, but the style of riding here is much different and the horses are trained differently.  The reins are held in one hand and the commands and body language also differ.  But it was good practice for balance and basic skills.  Fay said she thinks her horse is riding HER.  It follows along and randomly trots when it feels like it.  They seem suited to each other.

What a fantastic feeling, being in the open valley surrounded by evergreens and winding rivers.  At times we'd run ahead with the wind in our hair, riding openly in the wilderness.  THIS is riding, not some nancy trail back home with one horse behind another.  There is a degree of paying attention, guiding the horse through bogs, around rocks, under trees, through herds of cattle and sheep.  Then trying to keep the horse going when it wants to stop for a snack.  Eku's horse is feisty, a former racehorse that sometimes just takes off in a zip with him on the back.  His hands are red from pulling on the reins and I wonder how long until they're raw.  But he seems a tough kid.  Geldan is funny... One of the pack horses has some serious gas, and he likes to point to someone and blame it on them.  He was kind enough to carry my camera under his jacket so it wouldn't get damaged on the pack horses, and so I could ride openly.  He is weathered from the countryside and his life as a guide.  I enjoyed riding alongside him as he sang Mongolian songs.

We passed other tourists along the way, really the first ones we've seen days.  They were taking pictures of us and we waved back.  Geldan always greeted everyone we passed.  We saw other tourists riding past yelling Allez! as the horses galloped past.  It's been raining on and off all day, but only when we stop for rest.  I'm at least glad it hasn't rained while we've been riding else our pants would have been more damp than they already are.  Speaking of pants, by the time this week is over, these jeans will be able to stand on their own.  I'm doing an entire load of laundry when we get to Beijing.  My knee is sore from the ride, my inner thighs tender, and my calves bruised from the stirrup straps, but not in nearly as much pain or ache as I had anticipated.  But let's see what tune I'm singing in the morning. 

First, I'm glad we brought half chaps.  Geldan gave us a smile and a thumbs-up when he saw them on us.  Eku also donned a pair with his boots.  Geldan has the original Uggs, really.  Leather boots with wool lining and toes pointed and turned up with Mongolian markings on the calves.  I'm also grateful I brought a rain jacket, as bright yellow as it is.  So thank you, Nat Geo Channel, for the Wicked Tuna raincoat.  I'm not entirely sure I'd wear it often in Chicago but here it's godsent.  And thank GOD for the gloves that I brought, which I first used when I learned to ride a motorcycle, and now are doubling as riding gloves.  Yes, I have a lot of Things, but they've all been useful. 

This is tough. This is a mentally and physical tough trip.  It's the most adventurous I've ever done and definitely not for everyone.  Fay is holding up incredibly well considering she's never been camping.  And good lord, I'm not sure she was certain what she signed up for.  If she had known the details, she may not have come.  I purposefully didn't want to know the details because I didn't want to set any expectations.  But I knew we'd be camping.  It didn't phase me.  

Last night was spent in the ger and I slept reasonably well.  We built a nice fire in the stove also this morning.  Tonight we're back in the tent.  There are no cots.  We sleep on a thin pad with two sleeping bags.  Third thing I'm grateful for is bringing my sleep sheet/sleeping bag liner.  It's clean and it's mine so I feel a bit of comfort.  I also have a small travel pillow that I brought along with a fuzzy blanket tucked inside which I'll use tonight for more warmth. It is very cold at night.  I could have been more prepared, but I'm far more prepared than I expected so I'm faring okay.  But oh how I dream of a hotel at the end of this.  And a 30 minute shower.  And a clean toilet.  ANY toilet.  

Two things keep running through my head: Dances With Wolves and Long Way Round.  Like Dances with Wolves, we had a pack of dogs follow us out of camp, then a couple hours later another pack followed us for about an hour.  Like Two Socks the wild wolf.  In Long Way Round, Ewan MacGregor and his best friend Charlie Boarman ride motorcycles across Europe and Asia, my favorite reality program.  They found Mongolia to be one of the most difficult stretches of the journey.  They considered giving up but found the country so beautiful that they wanted to conquer the trip and push on.  So they did.

And so do we.  I chose this trip for many reasons.  One of them is that I knew it would be hard, but lately I have enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment I get after facing a hardship.  Overcoming fear and comfort has been my latest journey the past few years.  This is yet another.  It puts my first world city life in perspective, when things get rough, I can look at the time I spent here, sitting in this tent with the rain tapping at the roof, muscles aching, sticky with bug spray, and know that I can overcome almost anything. 

Today's entry can be summed up in two beautiful little passing moments.  First was Fay on her horse, yelling out MONGOLIA!!  And the other was Eku exclaiming to me, "I love my mother country!!"

Mongolia Day 3: The Real Adventure Just Began

Terelj National Park was only a hour away on mostly paved roads, along which we passed a few army bases and a military radar station.  As well as a Kazakh cemetery and Buddhist cemetery with a massive golden Buddha near then entrance.  We passed yaks, falcons, a Bactrian camel, Mongolian restaurants inside gers, and toll booths.  Into the park we headed As the landscape changed to more mountains with smooth boulders, rock faces, and more evergreens.  

Just outside a village we had to cross a river, but stopped just on the riverbed where we saw a car stuck that had also tried to cross.  A family had waded to shore, and the father was still at the wheel, door open, and water filling the inside.  We all hopped out of our vehicle and Achiro and Eku leaped into action.  Achiro our driver turned our van around, backed into the river, and undid the tow line.  I stood on shore and took a selfie with one of the girls who was wearing a Yankees cap, with me in my Cubs visor.  The men of the group (including Geldan, who turned out to be our horse guide for the upcoming trek) rolled up their jeans, waded into the river, and tried to find a way to attach the tow line to the other car.  Surprisingly the engine wasn't entirely washed out so they attached the line under the front bumper, and Achiro towed the car back to shore, everyone cheering and clapping. When they opened the car doors, water flooded out to the ground, the entire inside soaked through.  We were able to cross the river in our van with no consequence.  And this was just the morning. For reference, the car was a Toyota, and our van was a Mitsubishi. 

We would next make camp for the night in a ger of our own.  Inside we have 4 beds, a small table, and a little wood burning stove in the middle with a pipe through the roof.  These gers can be assembled and disassembled in under 2 hours, as we had seen some families do this morning so they could move into the mountains for the winter.  The mountains offer protection from the cold winds, then they move into the valleys in the summer for their animals to graze. There are no nails used in the construction: some of the joints are either pegs, or hinges made out of horse hide, which is incredibly tough and durable.

After settling in we walked over to Geldan's family ger to say hello.  In this country it is perfectly acceptable to walk up to a home and invite yourself in for a visit, even to a stranger.  Inside were two young teen girls and one teen boy.  They offered us milk tea, which is twice-boiled milk.  In this case, cow's milk.  It was homemade, unpasteurized, and delicious, just like warming up milk before bedtime.  I'm curious what this will do to my digestive system, but no maladies to report as of yet. They had three beds, two chests, a desk with a small computer and stereo, and a light bulb, all hooked up to a car battery. They also had a small solar panel outside near the kitchen tent for supplemental power.  

The young boy invited us out to a ride on the family horses, so this was our chance to practice for the next few days of riding.  Southward we rode for a couple hours with our little teenage friend, who looked to be about 9 but was actually 13, and had been riding his horse since he was 5. He was a chatterbox.  Adorable.  It took Fay and I a little while to get acquainted with our horses, meaning, just to get them to GO.  We got them up to a trot a few times but couldn't sustain it.  The weather was gorgeous, the sun warm but not oppressive, the breeze gentle, and the countryside peaceful.  On the way back we were all getting more comfortable in the saddle and with each other so we began singing songs... Old classics, The Beatles, modern songs, mostly out of tune.  We rode over hills, through rivers, and under low-hanging branches.  When we returned to Geldan's ger and hopped off the horse, my legs felt like spaghetti.  That was just two hours.  We have three days of riding ahead of us.  

Geldan's wife had returned home and invited us inside for a snack.  We didn't turn down her hospitality and went inside to find more children.  Some were Geldan's and some were just "neighborhood" kids.  The youngest was an adorable boy of about 5.  The milk tea was served in bowls and they offered us bread and orom, which was the consistency of butter.  I had a sense that we were in surreal surroundings, yet at the same time felt completely normal and comfortable.  

Geldan's son, the eldest with us on the ride, had been kicked by a bull a couple weeks ago and his knee was very swollen and he had difficulty walking (yet apparently no problem happily riding  a horse).  Geldan asked Eku if he had a bandage, so Fay and I rummaged through our supplies.  Between the two of us we were able to flush the wound out with hydrogen peroxide, clean with an alcohol wipe, and apply bacitracin to a tough bandaid. He winced as the peroxide bubbled in the wound, but I gently blew on it as I told him what I was doing and Eku translated. He was a good sport.  We believe his mother will finally bring him into town to see a doctor tomorrow.  I hope his knee will be fine again soon enough to play basketball again... Which seems to be the national pastime here.  Outside nearly every ger and inside every village is a basketball court. Eku knows more about the NBA than anyone I've met.  

Night is upon us and we're in our own ger now with the wood stove glowing red.  We have firm beds but are happy to be less exposed to the elements.  Tomorrow we begin our horse trek up into the mountains.  Every day is better than the day before.  We are roughing it for sure, but I love the simplicity and I'm so glad that Fay is just as adventurous and having a marvelous time.  Although I won't deny I will bask in the four-star luxury of the Ramada at the end of the week.  For the time being, we are feeling Mongolia through and through.  

Mongolia Day 2: A Road is an Opinion

The air is fragrant with the scent of juniper and eucalyptus.  The air chills quickly when the sun sets.  Dinner was beef noodle stew, the beef so tender and, well, beefy as it should be, since cows here actually eat grass.  Free range, roaming, pasture-fed beef.  Every animal around me has the potential to be dinner.  It was welcome, with cups of hot tea simple snacks for dessert.

I crossed the river opposite the camp, finding a trusty stick to help steady myself as I skipped across the rocks and climb up the opposite hill.  Below was our camp, and from the top of the hill the setting sun was casting shadows upon the mountain ridges in the valley, the silence so absolute I could nearly hear the blood pumping in my head.  A cow's skull lay nearby, bleached by the sun.  Dusk was upon us.

Along Khustai National Park

We lit an impressive fire after dinner and Eku recounted a Mongolian fairy tale about 8 brothers that made up the stars in the Big Dipper (here called the Big Spoon) and the North Star.  Eventually we retired to our tents.  Night one.  It was cold.  I'm sure that each night that passes we'll find better methods of settling in, making up our beds, and staying warm.  Fortunately the weather is supposed to continually warm up through the week.

I awoke at sunrise just as the orb was peering over the horizon.  With my camera in hand and still in my pajamas, I slipped on my jacket and hat and went exploring.  Back toward the river, the remains of a sheep were scattered in a field.  A hoof here, leg bone there, a jaw... Someone else had also camped here recently, as a cow's skull was hung up on a tree staring into the rising sun.  The quiet of the morning, rippling of the river over rocks, and the skull standing sentry lent an eerie sense about the place.  

I continued back over another river, climbed up another hill and onto a vast plain with mountains in the distance.  Once again I was overlooking the valley and able to see for at least 50 miles.  Alone again with only the sounds of the the birds to keep me company. When I returned to camp after crossing back over the river, I discovered my pajama pants were covered with dew and mud.  After breakfast I took the pants and a bottle of shampoo down to the river to wash them.  This was roughing it.  Was this how the locals did their laundry?  It was a successful venture, meaning I didn't fall into the river, so I had half the mind to do the rest of my wash.  The pants are hanging to dry in the sun and breeze, and all is well again.

...

Outside Khustai National Park

After packing up camp we headed out on a 4 hour drive through the steppe toward Madsujir monastery. Before I get into detail about our hike, it is worth devoting space to discuss the road situation here.  I use the term "road" loosely. Very, very loosely. Not even a dirt path.  Sometimes tire markings to follow.  Sometimes, just turn.  Right there.  Turn.  No road.  No markings, just drive wherever.  If the animals roam free, so do the vehicles.  Where there is a dirt road, part of it can become washed out and a new path is made around it.  There could be an number of trails woven and cross-crossing the countryside.  At one point as we neared a strip mining area, there was no telling what was a road and what looked to be bombed landscape.  Construction vehicles, cows, and ravines.  When we finally did hit tarmac again, Fay and I cheered.  I didn't care where where we went next, as long as we stayed on pavement.  Just trying to hold on inside the car was exhausting enough.  Turns out this is all completely normal for Mongolia.  

We followed a river through the valley for a while and passed an army base where a female legion was running drills.  Instead of driving through the madness of UB again, we took a "shortcut" south of the city through an industrial zone.  More mining and factories.  Burning tires.  This time the "road" was a dried out ravine.  Eventually we made our way into Tov province into the provincial capital of Zoormud.  A quaint little town where we stopped for some reinforcements.  There was pavement! 

Right outside this town was where we stopped for the afternoon to visit the Madsujir monastery.  The landscape changed from grass-strewn steppe and hills to mountains of rocky cliffs and tall evergreens.  The higher the peaks, the more plentiful the conifers.  Buddhists set up a monastery on a cliff side because they believed the site was magic: trees usually grow in a valley along a river, not in reverse.  We parked for a quick lunch and began our hike.

Madsujir was built in the 18th century but destroyed by Stalin's thugs in the 1930s. By the 1990s it started to get some restoration attention, but work has been slow.  The site used to host 1000 monks.  A large iron cauldron set nearby, once able to feed the entire community.  Ancient stone carvings stood nearby, either figurines or writings in Sanskrit or ancient Mongolian script.  

Mandshiir Monastery

We hiked throughout the site, up to the main temples, then upward yet still to smaller temple huts with rock paintings of Buddhist spirits.  Each site was blessed with gifts of colored scarves, money, milk, and other offerings.  We decided to head yet higher up the steep cliff face.  There are no railings, no steps, no signs, no direction.  This isn't America. This was the wild East.  We made our own path until we reached a section of the cliff where we could sit, rest, and soak in the vista.  We were high above the site where kids below we're shouting up to us and we'd whistle in return.  We could see for miles and miles, mountains of grass and evergreens.  Eku said it was one of the most beautiful places in the country.  And there we sat, the three of us, the only ones a thousand feet above the ruins, relaxing.  We wouldn't be able to do this with a tour group.  

The climb down was adventurous, being careful to find our footing amongst the boulders and pebbles, our grip against other rocks and minding some of the plants that were itchy to the touch.  Instead of heading straight down, we marched diagonally across the ruins, leaping from rock to rock of what were formerly foundations of the buildings.  Into the evergreen forest we went until we found a white temple topped with gold scimitars and the Mongolian mark.  We were again alone amongst the pines, just us and a shrine and the sunshine peeking peeking through the branches.  We paused to take in the silence, then made our way back to the car.  Nothing here is straightforward.  On the walk back, we encountered a herd of horses amongst the trees, and the local tourists were just as giddy as we were, if not more.  We finally made camp that night in an open valley just outside town and watched young boys on horseback herd their animals back to their corrals.  Eku once again delivered a delicious beef and rice stew.  The night was silent, and Fay and I slept  a bit better now that we're getting the hang of how to configure our sleeping bags.  The next morning we would set out for Terelj National Park, but not before we were awakened by the neigh of horses surrounding us.

Mongolia Day 1: Truly the Middle of Nowhere

Rolling green hills and mountains.  Jagged rocks.  A bright blue sky dotted with cotton clouds.  A crystal clear brook cuts through the flood plain.  A ger.  A herd of horses, branded by the nomads nearby.  A wild takhii trots through camp, more interested in the other horses than by us, and pauses to stare at me.  A wild cow keeps watch.  The sun is setting over the hills casting long shadows behind the few trees that line the brook.  

This is Mongolia.

A breeze sweeps over the steppe, the only sounds those of the wind in my ears and the grasshoppers holding court.  A small lunch of bread, cheese, Nutella, and tea.  The sun warms our shoulders and we relax, nettles nipping our legs.  This land is vast.  

As early evening sets in, we have made camp by a river in a flood plain, dried out for months after the rainy season.  The tents are pitched, dinner is being prepared, and I'm sure we'll sleep like the dead in the silence of this truly wild wilderness.  

It was two days of traveling to get here, and we flew into Chinggis Khan Airport with no consequence, into the cool air that was a refreshing break from the stuffiness of Beijing.  A new language, a new alphabet.  We didn't sleep long as our schedules haven't synced with the new time zone, now 13 hours ahead of Chicago and our internal clocks are upside-down.  As I write this, I've had three days to acclimate, but I am finally exhausted and have fought off a nap, saving it for after dinner when I'll surely begin to doze in front of the campfire.

Two years of planning went into this trip.  I am fortunate to have friends that also love adventure and travel, so Fay is along for the ride to Mongolia.  We snoozed long and hard for moments at a time and for the final flight into Ulanbaatar.  Neither of us remember takeoff.  Checking in and heading to bed was uneventful.  But I was a little on pins and needles until our guide Eku and driver Achura picked us up.

I had been planning with Tseren Tours since the winter.  Things were going well until two weeks before the trip when their email was hacked and the hacker had attempted to steal my email password, and tried to get me to wire funds through Western Union to an account in Texas.  I could no longer communicate with Tseren through email, but fortunately I finalized details with them via phone during late nights in Chicago when I was awake and they were open for business half a world away.  All went according to plan when we met at the tour office in the morning to pay our deposit and begin our journey.  

And we did, rolling out of Ulanbaatar and into the countryside.  The open road was fine enough but we shall never complain about potholes in Chicago again.  We stopped on occasion to take pictures, in one case pausing by a shrine and ceramic statue of a Mongolia shaman by the roadside.  As we pulled off the main highway, the side roads quickly deteriorated to nothing but washed out dirt paths and a couple tracks.  Now I know why there are handles inside the vehicle.

We spent the bulk of the afternoon exploring Hustai National Park, home of the ancestor of the modern horse, the takhii, or Prezwelski horse.  A few were sent to zoos in the late 19th century, then the were finally extinct in the wild.  In the 1960's, a dozen were re-introduced into the wild of the park, and today nearly 300 roam free.  They are beautiful beasts, with short manes, a milky coffee coat with black legs and tail.  We sat for a while to observe a few herds in their watering hole.  Water of which is so clear one can't see where the surface begins, where nearly a whisper of a breeze is the only indication that water is present.

Camp has been made, the sun is setting, and a chill is seeping into the air.  Mosquito bites mark my initiation.  It is quiet, the only orchestra that of the birds and toads, the occasional thunder of hooves nearby.  

Behind me Fay is practicing her karate into the sun, breathing the fragrant air.

This is Mongolia.

Packing 2 Weeks of Vacation into a Carry-On

Three years ago I was so proud of myself for packing only a mid-sized suitcase and a carry-on bag for a 16 day tour of South America, with room to spare for souvenirs.  This time I'm heading off to Mongolia and China for some time on horseback and hiking for 2 weeks.  I can't imagine putting a suitcase on the back of a pack horse, let alone lugging around more than 2 bags.  Which is why this time I decided to buy a single 55-litre backpack and take one day bag.  Plus I don't want my luggage being checked and possibly delayed to start the vacay, so I feel safer with a carry-on.  I have all I need, the trick is now to edit and compact.

Baggalini tote and Gregory backpack

Space Bags
They're my best friend.  They should be your best friend.  Easily picked up at BB&B and bring a coupon! Shirts in one bag, pants/skirts in the other.  Nine shirts for 2 weeks, banking on changing clothes at least 2-3x a day.  One pair of jeans, 1 dress, and 2 pairs of shorts.  Undergarments in another bag.  You can fit about 6 shirts in a single medium bag.  Fold (don't roll), put in bag on the floor, kneel on it, seal it, then fold the entire bag in half and kneel on it again, therefore letting the rest of the air out of the valves.

Do laundry halfway through the trip.  If your hotel/hostel doesn't have laundry service, either take it to a laundry service or I tend to wash my items in the bathroom sink.  Two small bungee cords can act as a clothesline and binder clips as clothespins, and I throw those in my accessories catch-all bag.

The trick to packing only half of what you need: MONOCHROMATIC.  Pack blacks, whites, greys, or pack earthtones.  This way you can easily interchange outfits and minimize the number of shoes you bring (I  know, I know, I once brought 14 pairs on one cruise... before I learned how to slim down).

On the Plane
Wearing hiking shoes onto the plane will save space inside you luggage (and in weight!).  I slipped a pair of flip-flops into a small bag inside my handbag so slip into these once on the plane (and taking a pair of ankle socks to sleep in).

Wearing linen pants, tee, and hoodie to be comfy for a 14-hour flight, plus now I don't have to squeeze a hoodie and another pair of pants into the bag.  If your cabin class doesn't come with an amenities kit, then pick up a couple disposable toothbrushes at the pharmacy to freshen up when you land.  For immediate access to things I may need the most during the flight, I pack my favorite multi-pocket bag with earplugs, headphones, eye mask, Tylenol, Tums, eye drops, tissues, iPad/iPhone cord, passport, in-flight Rxs, wallet, socks, and disposable toothbrushes.  The little loop on the end lets me hang it on the tray table clip on the seat in front of me, or tuck into the seat back pocket.  Loving Flight 001 for their clever packing accessories.

Flight 001 in-flight accessories bag

This goes into my day pack, which is a durable tote-turned-backpack from Baggalini.  This bag will also include paper copies of travel plans, camera equipment, flip-flops, and a scarf.  Always bring a scarf/wrap.

Toiletries
You don't need to pack your entire medicine cabinet.  But if you're susceptible to picking up illnesses, pack some basics and you can refill at your destination.  Don't pack the whole container; put pills into plastic baggies, label them, then roll up.  Keep all medications inside a single pack.  Target has good $1 accessory bags in their travel items section in-store.  Bring liqui-gels if possible instead of the full liquid versions of some medications so they don't take up space in your single allowable 3oz/1qt liquids bag.  If you're carrying prescription meds, ask the pharmacist to put them into small bottles, if possible, but keep them in their original pill case with the Rx attached because you may need to justify to some Customs officer why you're carrying them, especially if you have to carry needles or other medical devices.

Label everything that's not in its original packaging

On my ganeral must-carry list: Imodium, Tums, Zyrtec/Claritin, Tylenol, Gas-X, Zithromyacin, DayQuil, Benadryl (for allergies or cold), bug spray, Benadryl stick (for bug bites).  In a separate bag I keep a first aid kit: band-aids, moleskin, alcohol wipes, and if you have any special emergency items (EpiPens, inhalers, etc).   I like keeping the sample sizes of toothpaste that I get from visits to the dentist to repurpose for traveling. One more pack could carry jewelry and hair accessories, and another carry makeup.  But where to put all these small bags?

I love my Swiss Army toiletry bag to keep everything together.  Keep all the small bags in here, along with a small comb or folding brush, razor, toothbrush and paste, and when you arrive, unroll it and hang in the restroom.  If you're freshening up at the airport, this is easy to hang by the sink in most cases.

Swiss Army toiletry bag keeps it all together

You can also reduce your toiletries: Shampoo can double as laundry detergent.  Conditioner can double as shaving cream.  PLEASE don't bring the entire shampoo bottle.  Grab sample sizes from the store.  There are sample sizes available for nearly everything you'll need: hairspray, deodorant, shamp/cond, lotion, etc.

Keep it simple, sample size everything

Balance Your Bag

It's like Tetris

For some leftover items like chargers, power adapters, a little bag works to keep these getting lost inside your luggage.  Put the heaviest items at the bottom or lower portion of your bag so it doesn't tip over when you stand it up.  If you're packing a backpack, as you pack it, try it on.  If it's pulling to one side, reorganize to put the heaviest weight down the center.  I'm also bringing fabric shopping bag in case I fill that up with souvenirs and want to check my bag on the way back.  If you plan on doing a lot of shopping, haggle for a cheap small bag to check for your return flight.

Madonna was Here

What is a trip to Buenos Aires without first watching Evita and visiting the Casa Rosada to see the balcony from where she gave her famous speech, or from where Madonna sang "Don't Cry for Me Argentina." This was our final day in BA as we were departing in the evening.  I had mentioned a slight sore throat the night before, and awoke in the morning to a slight fever, joint pain, and a very painful throat.  Many previous trips had prepared me for this so I had a few Tylenol Cold pills in stock.  These helped but I didn't want to exert myself too much today.

The Casa Rosada was a good first stop to enjoy the sunshine and the fountains and greenery of the surrounding Plaza de Mayo.  Across the plaza was encampment of war veterans from the battle over Las Islas Malvinas, or Falkland Islands.  This island group was mentioned so often in recent days that we had the feeling that Argentina wasn't about to give them up to the UK without a fight.  I reserve judgement on this to someone more knowledgable on the subject.  

A lovely walk down tree-lined Avenida de Mayo kept us out of the hot sun, and me into a pharmacy in search of throat losenges.  I took a number and stood in line with the others until my number was called and I figured out exactly what I wanted.  Oh, seven years of Spanish classes, you have served me well.  We weren't trying to pack too much into the day as we were already exhausted and sore from exploring this weekend, and fatigue was setting in from whatever illness I picked up, but at least I was active and not entirely miserable.  We powered on and decided a lingering lunch would hit the spot.  We returned to La Cholita in Retiro, this time for chorizo and a rack of ribs. We had thought the chorizo appetizer was going to put us over the top, but once the ribs arrived, we were silent as we gnawed at the deliciously-sauced bones.  From all the sodium, heat, and walking, just about every appendage in our body was swelling.  It felt nice to sit, but will feel fantastic to be back inChicago drinking nothing but water and eating a salads for a few days until we can lose this meat belly that we've developed, happily, I might add.

As we headed back to the hotel, I must comment on the degree of graffiti in this town.  If there is a surface, it will be drawn upon.  Most is illegible tagging, but along Avenida Justo by the train station, the walls are vividly colorful with imaginative art.  It makes for a more interesting stroll.  No wonder BA is known for its famed street art.  We made one final stop at a wine shop near our hotel to take back a few bottles.  Aside from the ones we were already having shipped to us, I also picked out a cab-Malbec blend from. Mendoza, a sparkling brut, and a Patagonian Syrah.  I could have easily gone hog wild in here but three bottles was enough for the time being.

In short, there is so much more to see in BA than we ever had the opportunity to experience in four short days.  We maximized as best we could, but it deserves another few visits.  The food, vibrancy, and passion make this city truly unique.  Outside the city limits lies an expanse of countryside filled with vineyards, pampas, polo, soccer, horsemanship, mountains, penguins, and rugged terrain.  I am happy that we had a sampling, would be happier still to return and explore this diverse country.  South America truly holds my heart once again.

Classic Buenos Aires

We had it on good authority that the best brunch in the city was where we had already made reservations, at Hernan Gipponi Restaurant at the Fierro Hotel.  This was a brunch tasting menu.  I have never seen a brunch tasting menu.  At only $30 per person, we were ready for this.  Since it was Easter Sunday, we decided to dress up a bit for lunch.  Not for religious purposes, but because we figured everyone else would be dressed up.  The weather was beautiful and peaceful, a calm breeze with birds chirping neon do the crunch of dead leaves underfoot as we walked to brunch.  We were served about 9 courses that ranged from a fruit selection, to an over-easy egg on mashed potatoes with nori, to shrimp, a tiny finger sandwich, fish empanada, whitefish, risotto ossobucu, a Campari cocktail, and yogurt mousse.  Lovely.  We were certifiably more stuffed than we were from any previous meat-based meal.  

The next course of action would be to make our way to the San Telmo neighborhood in time for the antique market.  We had stopped to watch tango performances in the park.  These dancers were putting on a fine show, but so much more elaborate than the dancers we had seen the night before.  Beautiful in their grace nonetheless.  I am loving the national export on display in this city, the beauty and allure of tango.  We explored the market in depth until I spotted a set of French vintage champagne glasses in an art neauveau design.  I bought the set of 8 from a set of very handsome Argentine twins, and they thanked us for the transaction with a traditional kiss on the cheek.  I had been in search of these types of champagne glasses (not flutes) for years and was thrilled to find a vintage set, because I am about to toss out my flutes at home.  

We thought we were done shopping until we spied a handmade hat shop and made our way inside.  We love hats.  I love interesting hats.  And interested indeed I did find.  A black felt chapeau reminiscent of Carmen Sandiego.  It had to be mine.  Carrie walked out with a colorful scarf and our excursion was complete.

We decided the ideal way to wrap up our last full day was to make our way to Puerto Madero to find the Paseo de Mujeres bridge, one of the most famed pieces of modern architecture in Buenos Aires.  This area used to be a series of ports and docks where cargo was unloaded.  It has been reclaimed and turned into lofts, condos, and waterfront restaurants.  We had passed the Argentine frigate Sarmiento and for merely $2 pesos we could explore. Heck, it was a boat and a surprise inexpensive tour so we hopped aboard.  In and out of small passageways we crept, exploring the upper and lower decks like giddy children.  We're on a boat! We left to cross over the Paseo de Mujeres that by then was brightly illuminated in the dusk.  What is interesting about this area is that all the streets and passageways are named after famous national women.  Today Argentina also has a female president.  Thinking back to the influence and love of Evita, South America does indeed embrace and hold in regard their women.  America seems generations behind in equality and tolerance.  It is an unfortunate comparison to our culture but lovely and refreshing to be in a nation that appreciates and celebrates female influence.  Or perhaps I notice it more because of the lack of it in the US.  Greatest nation in the world?  *pause*

Dinner found us at a pizzeria on the waterfront with a bottle of wine on the patio with a view of the bridge, and under the shadow of the giant cargo cranes left behind from the working dock era.  I loved that these were kept in place, illuminated and perched like origami cranes, sitting sentry to the masses below.  Our bodies were still sore today, our feet swollen, our joints aching from the exertion of the weekend.  One more day before departure as we plotted our moves the next day.

Asado and Tango

This is the worst place in the to world to be a vegetarian.  

Parillas (steakhouses) on nearly every corner, the smell of asado wafting from someone's backyard.  Although it is autumn in Buenos Aires, there is always time for a barbecue, as patios and yards are I outfitted with giant rotisserie grills.  Our little charcoal Webers and oversized gas grills have nothing on the grilled meats culture here.  And bless them.  Friday night we dined at La Cabrera, which was filled with locals and tourists alike.  How best to start off the trip with our first major meal as the national pastime. We began with a beef empanada and blood sausage - morcilla - which oozed from its casing when coerced with a knife, served with a side of chimichurri.  It was one of the strangest items on the menu so of course it had to be on our plates.  This was heavenly.  More so than I had expected.  I do hope I can find this in Chicago. If you can get past the appearance, name, and texture, the taste is worth it, but this is no beginner's meal.  My ribeye arrived, along with Carrie's rump roast, served with numerous tiny sides: marinated mushrooms, mashed potatoes, salad, creamed zucchini, baby corns, pumpkin mash, sun-dried tomatoes, marinated red peppers with creme, and more chimichurri.  Spectacular.  Despite my lacking appetite and inability to consume much quantities of food in recent months, I had no problem downing my entire steak and most of the sides.  Despite the sound of the quantity of food, it wasn't American portion sizes, thank goodness.  We accompanied with a lovely bottle of DV Cabernet-Malbec blend from Mendoza and were decidedly content for our single activity of the day.  

Saturday was going to be our major power day of sightseeing, shopping, and dancing.  We navigated the subway ($.30!) to Recoleta Cemetery where BA elite rest in eternal peace.  This had the familiarity of Pompeii, with the cobblestone alleyways and aisles upon aisles of mosoleums of assorted design: baroque, art neauveau, Art Deco, classic, Greek, Egyptian.  Some tombs were broken upon, glass shattered, and some were actively attended to with fresh flowers.  Groundkeepers quarters were tiny shacks tucked between structures.  Thanks to the Rough Guide - our guidebook of choice -  we easily found our way to the tomb of Familia Duarte where Evita is laid to rest.  This cemetery was also our first encounter with other tourists.  We have noticed here the lack of Americans and lack of English speakers.  Usually there is more English spoken as a second language wherever we have traveled, but this we were more dependent on spanish than ever.  Luckily the accent isn't thick or rapid so I have and more success with comprehension and communication than usual.

We strolled through the Recoleta neighborhood en route to our next stop, nestled in a passageway of boutiques, up some back stairs, and rang a buzzer.  This is the home of Comme Il Faut, the tango shoe of note and fame.  It is one single room with the appearance of a French boudoir.  I gave the lady my shoe size and preferred heel height, and shortly nearly 20 boxes of shoes appeared on the carpet at my feet.  Yes, it is true that I just started to tango, but I've been dancing salsa for 10 years, so these shoes were going to play double duty.  Salsa shoes tend to have a shorter heel below 2.5" so I was pleased that she had 7cm/3" heels available.  The only selection available to actually see was a small glass case on the wall of their latest designs.  The rest of the shoes are tucked away in a back room, and I was at the mercy of the lady who brought out every variation of styles in my size and height.  I ended up with two amazing pairs, one in teal and red, and a spectacular pair in black suede with a silver snakeskin strap.  Two silk shoe bags and a tote and we were merrily on our way.

We happened across an English tea shop called Smetterlings on the way over so we popped back in for a spot of tea and a treat.  I have been trying to taste new things here, and although I am not a fan of caramel, I did sample the dolce de leche mousse cake that Carrie picked out.  I didn't dislike it, but sweets just aren't my style.  However, the black tea with lime hit the spot and was a nice respite from the activities of the day so far.  Onward to lunch!  Yes, we did have tea and dessert before lunch.  Whatever.  We found another parilla called La Cholita and stopped in because they had choripan on the menu.  This is chorizo split in half on bread with chimichurri.  Oh this was spectacular.  It was a must-eat on our list.  I do believe we may return for another meal, as the men next to us had ordered a slab of ribs.

After lunch our wanderings brought us to July 9th Avenue, which is considered one of the widest boulevards in the world.  We had passed the Teatro Colón opera house, then onward to the famed obelisk in the middle of the boulevard, where of course a picture was in order before it was time to head back to prepare for the next adventures of our day.

What is more Argentine than meat, wine, and tango? Our next stop brought us to Anuva Wines, a wine loft run by a man named Diego than was in the Palermo neighborhood behind an unmarked door.  It opened up to a marvelous loft with spiral stairs, a veranda, and of course a giant grill for asados.  We sampled five wines from the country: three malbecs from Mendoza, a torrentes white from Salta, and a sparkling extra brut.  All were accompanied by tapas.  Once the official tasting was complete, we were free to finish off the bottles.  And perhaps open more. The conversation really began to flow around the table with other travelers from São Paulo, Scotland, and New York.  This was an excellent sales tactic as we were properly lubricated from polishing off the bottles, so eye decided to purchase a few more and ship them back home.

Our plan for the day had been to take a quick nap after this before heading out to tango.  Back at the room I was able to snooze for about an hour while Carrie typed away on her iPad.  She isn't a night owl so this may may be a challenge for her as Buenos Aires is known to be a nocturnal city.  Although I am normally up very late on weekends, we did have an early start and this start and this may be challenge for me as well.  I grabbed a pair of my newest shoes and headed to a community center of sorts, into the basement, where we managed to find a table we had reserved earlier.  Thank goodness we did this as it was nice to have some space to claim as our own.  The evening began at 11pm with group lessons.  I didn't join in at first, but then I saw a young man standing by the wall alone because he didn't have a practice partner.  I approached him and we joined the lesson together.  He had been dancing only a couple weeks longer than I so I didn't feel as awkward as a beginner.  We changed partners a few times, I danced with a few that were more experienced than I but held up well.

At 12:30am the lessons ended and the dance floor opened up for practica, the open dance for all.  I sat back down with Carrie as we ordered a bottle of cider.  Two gentlemen next to me ask me to dance, to which I stated as a precaution that I was just learning, but one asked to save a dance for me later.  We happily sat watching the dance floor fill with dancers and marveled at them twirling around the floor.  Eventually the music changed to swing style, and another gentleman asked me to dance.  Goodness, haven't danced swing in years, but why not.  We got a couple dances in and I started to loosen up.  The next song rotation was salsa.  Salsa! I was now in my element.  Not many men here danced this, but I managed to find one who did and we hit the dance floor.  It was marvelous. I was as though I was back in Chicago spinning and kicking my way around the floor.  I felt fantastic and my partner was good.  We stayed out there for a couple salsas, and for one bachata.  He seemed nice enough, and was kind to ask me for a tango next when the music rotated again.  

Throughout the evening we did find that next to no one here spoke English. I was able to hold some conversations in Spanish with the table next to me and with the people I danced with during the lessons.  The partner i found for salsa and tango spoke English so it was easier for him to teach me a few new tango moves. We must have been on the dance floor for 3 more songs.  He seemed more interested in chatting with me than dancing, but I did learn a few things and held my own well on floor. Eventually I had to escape his grasp and return to Carrie because he was starting to get intrusive.  I really do enjoy partner dancing, but too much talk can turn into someone getting too friendly and that becomes uncomfortable.

By 2:30am I was ready to go.  The later the evening went, the more experienced local dancers hit the floor and I wasn't about to be held captive by the man that I had danced with.  And my dogs were barking.  So as we walked back to the hotel at nearly 3am, the city was in full swing.  We passed nightclubs with velvet ropes, long lines, and sharma stands.  Some things never change in many countries.  Greasy meat at 3am always hits the spot.  By the end of this day, I no longer recognize my feet.  Swollen, blistered, torn, and scarred from the events of the night and day.  We will feel every bit of this in our bones tomorrow.

For now, I couldn't be happier.  Dancing in Buenos Aires with the locals.  Tasting the marvelous wines of the region.  Eating the best beef in the world.  Experiencing this beautiful city with tinges of French and Italian influence.  More exploration lies ahead.

Can You Pull Bags Off a Plane After Loading? And the Currency Scam

Yes.  Kinda. With extreme exceptions.

Our trip to Buenos Aires began with a lovely light meal and sangria at O'Hare to set the tone.  We each decided to check a bag because we planned on shopping in BA and bringing back wine.  We boarded our plane and discovered there was a 10 minute departure delay.  Then 20 minutes.  Then an hour.  Our connection in Dallas was originally 2.5 hours and that was shrinking quickly.  We did the math and if our plane departure was delayed to a certain point, we would miss our connection to BA. We quickly searched our phones for alternate flights and routes.  We had a backup plan to re-route through Miami.  When the announcement came that we would be delayed again, we sprang into action.  I called the AA Gold number immediately to try to rebook, and Carrie flagged the flight attendant to see if wee could get off the plane.  He said yes, and AA rebooked us through Miami. 

Problem, we couldn't get our bags out of the cargo hold.  "No, we'd have to pull every bag and unload the plane to find yours."  But we were told the gate agent could make the final call on that.  So ewe grabbed our stuff and bolted off the plane.  We were the first people at the gate desk and explained the situation.  Initially Meg at the desk said no, that we had to travel on the same flights as our bags due to international immigration rules.  But she saw that we were rebooked through a different route, so she called baggage operations to pull the luggage.  After all, our new plane, and the old one weren't leaving for a couple hours so there was time to pull them and get them on the new flight.  Helpful tip: both our bags are bright blue and easy to find in a sea of black.  They found mine.  They couldn't find Carrie's. Uh-oh.  Meg discovered that they put Carrie's bag on an earlier flight to Dallas.  We weren't going to Dallas and hence there was a chane that her bag may not get on the conneting flight to Buenos Aires because she wasn't going to be on the flight with it.  But we had to chance it.

A guy behind us in line also tried to rebook and heard that we were getting our bags pulled off the plane.  How is that possible??, he asked.  We said because of international immigration flight regulations it was an exception.  If we tried to pull this stunt for a domestic flight, we didn't stand a chance.  It took about a half hour to get rebooked and figure out the luggage situation.  By that time, another passenger on the plane to Buenos Aires had just stepped off and was trying to the same thing.  Except they couldn't find him a seat and the luggage guy was nowhere to be found.  We kept quiet about our fortune and headed to our next flight.

When we made it to Miami we called again to check on Carrie's bag.  We heard it had been scanned to be on the DFW-EZE flight and should be arriving in BA 2 hours before we would.  We could only cross our fingers at this point, and also hope that my bag was following us.  We finally took off for BA and settled in for an uneventful flight, which fortunately was 2.5 hours shorter than the departure from DFW. We slept gently.  

Going through Passport Control I crossed my fingers.  My passport is almost full and I have just 2 blank pages left: pages I absolutely need to keep blank for the Mongolia stamps and Chinese visas this summer.  If Argentina chose to stamp on one of those pages, I'd be in a passport pickle.  So I paper clipped those two pages together so they wouldn't flip open to them, and the found some blank space on some already-stamped pages.  *phew*  So I just have to keep this in mind for my departure stamp and re-entry stamps into the US and I'm golden for Asia in a few months.

I found my bag quickly on the baggage carousel, but we still searched for the other.  The baggage desk agent wasn't helpful so we walked the entire baggage claim area a few times, stopping at carousels to check , looking around pillars, taking a sweep through Lost & Found.  Finally, her bag was discovered on a still-moving and crowded carousel, where at grabbed it and embraced with the enthusiasm of a long-lost relative. Success!

We found the taxi stand, gave directions and address, and hopped in.  Mistake #1: we were so exhausted that we never looked at the meter.  I asked about the fare.  It sounded high (but after research later, it was fine).  When we pulled up to the hotel, we tried to pay the fare, had some mix-up in the amount, and finally found the bills to give him the correct fare.  Except sitting at lunch later, we were doing the math, and something wasn't right.  I withdrew $700 pesos.  I had $100 left.  The fare was $600 pesos.  And Carrie had only $300 pesos left.  And three $2 peso bills.  Um, where did those $2 come from?? Suddenly I remembered an episode of Scam City on Nat Geo about taxi currency scams.  We strongly believe now that when we paid him and thought we gave him enough but didn't, he swapped out three $300 notes for the $2 ones that were bundled in half, that we gave him the wrong amount, so we handed over three more $100 bills.  Ah.  Dammit.  They got us.  Okay, the conversion rate is high so we're out maybe $15 US each.  It could be worse.  So we researched another scam about counterfeit bills and now we know what to look for.  And to get small bills because $100 and $50 notes are the most commonly scammed.  And we'll try to use our cards more often.

Lesson learned (this is the first time I've been a traveler scam victim) but it could have been worse.  In the end it wasn't a lot of money, it opened our eyes, we arrived safely, and have all our luggage.

This evening we have dinner reservations at a paralla, an Argentine steakhouse.  This country is famed for its beef, and it's said that this country is the worst place in the world to be a vegetarian.  Yay! We enjoyed a very pleasant lunch in the sunshine at an Italian sidewalk cafe in the Palermo neighborhood.  Relaxing under tree-lined streets.  Tomorrow starts the big day of sightseeing, wine tasting, and tango. I'm sure we'll sleep well tonight.

Chasing Ghengis Khan: Mongolia and Beijng

One theme that is common throughout most of my travels is ancient hisotry and archaeology.  I can't pinpoint what the allure is, but I as a kid who dreamed of seeing the world, Marco Polo had fascinated me.  Namely his encounters with the Mongols.  A very proud, strong horse-driven culture that conquered most of Asia.  Their relentless pursuit of territorial domination had led the Chinese build the Great Wall.  And this is where our journey begins, on either side of the Wall.

I've spent over a year researching assorted tour companies that operate groups our of Ulanbaatar, Mongolia's capital.  Spend a week in Mongolia treking, a day of horseback riding in this traditional horse-dependent nomadic land (if you don't like horses, you can hike that part), treking to a waterfall, visiting the ancient Mongol capital of Kharakorum, visiting with nomads and experiencing their daily life, and spending some evenings in traditional Mongolian gers, along with some sightseeing in the capital.  We could opt to spend a couple extra days in Ulanbaatar after the tour, and nearby in the national park riding horses, exploring the hills, streams, and wildlife. This weeklong tour in Mongolia includes hotels, get lodging, transfers, meals, transportation, and admission. 

Then we return to Beijing to unwind. Visit the Great Wall, Forbidden City, shopping, eating, and exploring for a few more days.  Or you could head back to the US sooner if you like.  In all, I figure this will be about 14-16 days away.  Costs in Beijing are on our own. I figure with the Mongolia tour group, airfare, insurance, visas, and lodging in Beijing may be about $3500/pp.  I'm flying there on frequent flyer miles (70k-92k-110k r/t depending on class) so if you can swing that, it'll knock about $1500 off for the plane ticket.

For the Mongolian tour, if we have at least 3 people on board, we could either join a scheduled group, or have our own private group.  With 8 people, the tour price drops.  This is the group and tour under consideration, affordable, a good length (but not too long), and a good selection of Mongolian sites:

http://english.horseback-mongolia.com/our-journey-through-mongolia/discovery-journey-in-mongolia/green-breath-of-fresh-air

Timing is about August 2014.  I can't get away from work before then, but it's still nice weather in Mongolia.  If we had enough people for a private tour we could go in September, but keep in mind it can get really cold in Mongolia at night during that month.

Breakdown:

Chicago to Beijing r/t: ~$1500

Beijing to Ulanbaatar r/t: ~$550

Mongolia tour: $990 general group (3-7 ppl private: $1100, 8+ ppl private: $950

Chinese visa: $140 (no Mongolian visa needed)

Trip insurance: ~$100 (strongly advised)

Beijing lodging: TBD - I like to stay in little B&Bs like a traditional Chinese hutong, so looking to keep costs low here.

Beijing sightseeing: TBD for Great Wall and Forbidden City

I have airfare alerts set up for Beijing, so hopefully some fares will drop.

Nearly 3 years ago Carrie and I spent 16 days in South America for $2000 each, inclusive.  It was absolutely an amazing experience. Once again I want to have another adventure, and would love to have company!

Since I will be flying on FF miles, I need to fly when the free seats are available, so I will be booking my ticket just after the new year.  You can fly with me, or we can meet up in Beijing if you findf fares on better dates.  Let's keep talking...