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GOLDSEA | ASIAGATE

MOSCOW TO BEIJING VIA MONGOLIA
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The guards stand at attention as they ready for the limousine to pass. They threaten to take our cameras if we take pictures. I snap away discreetly.

Lake Baikal. 20-25 million years old, earthquakes, 22% of the world's fresh water supply, 220 species, 2000 km shoreline, 600km long, 1637 meters deep, 12 degrees Celsius in summer, ebb flow tide. We dodge some roadside cows. There is no opposite shore here. It feels like the ocean, but there is no smell of the ocean, no ocean sounds. The lake has a tide and acts like the ocean. What a cool lake. For an hour we ride the hydrofoil across the lake. We go on forever but only cross the river. The water is perfectly clear. I drop a penny and watch it tumble down a mile.

After getting back from the Lake Jeff and I go to dinner in the Intourist dining room. Half the menu isn't available. But the items that are are great. Caviar, steak, kiwi drinks, tea and one bottle of vodka between us. We are very drunk and very happy. I do remember waking up very clearly at 4:40 a.m. with a strong hangover, stinking of cigarettes, sick to my stomach. And we are to start a 26-hour train ride to Mongolia.

That morning we see nine Mongolians, including three train conductors, and one family in our compartment. They look at us with intense curiosity. Translations are difficult, but they come. It is easy to tell we have been lucky again. The national holiday will be happening in Ulaan Baator and it will be packed. It is an amusing day. A kid has adopted us as his godparents. He loves using our cameras. The parents are major smugglers. We have been watching in mild disbelief at the amount of goods spread around the train. Everyone has been here dropping off stuff and picking stuff up. Chocolate, jam, dozens of bottles of German cooking oil, orange drinks, bromide vials for injections, blankets, candy of all types, 96% alcohol vodka. They ask if we can change an American hundred dollar bill. We refuse, fearing that it is counterfeit. As a Chinese American I am an object of intense curiosity for the Mongols, unlike the Russians who weren't very reactive to my ethnicity. Am I Chinese? Or am I American? They can't grasp the concept of Chinese American but at least they don't see me as a Chinese Chinese. They definitely don't like the Chinese.

The last night before Ulaan Baator is long. Russian customs, it seems, doesn't bother Westerners as much as the Mongols. I end up smuggling cooking oil. Jeff smuggles in Snickers bars. It takes two and a half hours to get through Russian customs and one hour to get through Mongolian customs. The Russian officers are actually quite easy, especially after they laugh at Jeff's passport picture. The evening is insufferable. Ninety degrees, mosquitoes, no movement, no water and blaring Mongolian music. We want to turn it off but decide the Mongols would hurt us if we try. The Mongol passengers are constantly in motion, major smuggling moves, no bathroom, totally dirty. What a nightmare.

[CONTINUED BELOW]

We arrive in Ulaan Baator the next morning. Of course, every other Westerner but us has someone to greet them. We definitely need to speak with our travel agent if we make it home.

Jeff meets a Mongolian tour bus driver while looking at a wrestling poster. He offers to take us to a museum for $3 U.S. Very good deal. He then gets us into the Museum of Natural History for free. After the museum he sets 1820 hours as the time we are to meet him at the hotel. We have no idea why or what for. Jeff decides to leave a note in our hotel explaining our situation in case things don't work out for us. To our surprise the driver takes us to his place for dinner with his family. We drink koumis (fermented horse milk), eat lamb, drink vodka and smoke. Meanwhile the women eat in the kitchen. Too bad--I was hoping they would join us. They invite us to the mountains tomorrow to watch horse races and wrestling.

The next morning our new friends take us by bus into the countryside for the festivities. Beautiful country. Space, space, space is the only way to describe the country. No people, no factories, no industry. Nothing. Just land everywhere. It seems the bus driver has picked up additional passengers for our tour. Some reporters from the Washington Post and New York Newsday are here to do a story on Mongolia. Arrogant people but somewhat interesting.

The first race is the children's race. Little children ride horses out about 30 km and race back. They say the children learn to ride horses before they learn to walk. Judging by the way they ride, I would say it's true. It will be about an hour before the children return to the finish line. Jeff and I decide to go watch the wrestling matches. It seems the matches have been canceled due to heavy rains, so the driver introduces us to lamb pies. The Mongols are efficient at butchering lambs. But hell, it's a great tasty snack. We then return to the finish line to greet the horses. We wait and wait. It rains and rains. Then it pours and pours. It is wonderful. The crush of people with umbrellas and tarp gets very dense. Horses press us from behind. It is a merry mob of Mongols, awaiting the finishing children. Hot damn! The horses are rounding the corner and all are outstanding. The crowd erupts into cheers. As the racers cross the finish line the parents rush to swarm around them. We can't make out what happens to the winner. What an eventful day! We return to the hotel for a nice hot meal and a good night's rest before we catch the morning train.

We are watching TV in the hotel. To our amazement we can get Hong Kong MTV off the satellite channels. To my surprise the host of MTV is David Wu, someone I knew from the University of Washington. Small world.

The train to Beijing is uneventful. Just beautiful countryside until we pass customs. As we approach Beijing we can see the impact of human population on the environment. More buildings, more agriculture, more development, and lots more people. Our car's Chinese conductor is a good guy. He's entertained that despite being Chinese American I can still speak the language.

The food is much better than in the other trains. We are pros at train travel now. I love the train. It can be exasperating at times, but the people are good and interesting.

We arrive in Beijing 30 hours later. The place has changed so much since I was last there 7 years ago. The highrises, industry and people are flourishing under capitalism. Large shopping complexes, businesses and taxi cabs everywhere. Amazing. Ours turns out to be a four-star hotel with marble floors, big beautiful chandeliers and doormen with white gloves. Hell, after a long train journey we are not going to complain.

We do Beijing's big attractions. The temples and museums start to get a little tiresome. Good thing I have friends there who cook for us every night. We have some memorable meals. Jeff is fond of the dog soup. He takes a few bites before having visions of his dog back home. It doesn't matter to me. It tastes like beef.

After four days in Beijing we fly to Hong Kong, our last stop before heading home. We enjoy three days of shopping and eating. It doesn't seem Hong Kong will change after 1997. China is becoming more like Hong Kong.

On our way home to Seattle I think back on our journey of three weeks and 7,000 miles. It all seems like a dream. It was more than we could have hoped for. The faces and places will stay a part of me.

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