The Middle Kingdom

It seemed the train traveled the most circuitous route possible exiting Ulan Bataar, but it made for all the more thrilling scenery. Tracks winding East, then South, then Southwest and back to East and then South again through the small mountains and grassland, surrounding countless Ger camps and roaming herds until we straightened out for our rendevous with China. About 4 hours later, the grassland started to become more and more sparse, with dirt in between clumps of grass until finally it gave way to grass and sand (similar to a sand dune), then, finally all beige-ish colored sand.

As the stops along the way became increasingly blistering hot (July 6), it was the one in the middle of the Gobi desert which stood out. An abandoned railway station (no ticket windows/only some painters) and about a hundred houses scattered through the wavy air (Las Vegas style) and everything with a white-washed look -- even though they weren't -- while the platform baked with touts.

We got back on, then for about the next 6 or 7 hours it was all sand. We took advantage of the restaurant car --- even
though the air conditioning was almost nil -- there were a lot of european tourists on this train, mostly German and French. Perhaps our most bizarre sight was, at about the very middle of our journey through the desert, we saw someone riding a
mountain bike in the middle of the sand, with a scarf covering and a large backpack filling with what looked like complete camping gear. It also looked as if he was traveling the length of the desert on bike and we wondered how he could even gain proper 'footing' in the sand much less endure the heat.

Gradually, grass began to re-emerge. At this point, it was very repetitive scenery (except for the occasional worker and dog) and after what seemed like another day (in reality, it was about 4 hours) the endless concrete fence posts with barbed wire appeared. We thought it might be for extra border security but really think it was just for the cattle. Nevertheless, the fence extended continuously for 40 or 50 miles.

At about 8pm, we reached the Chinese border and the train stopped. As did the air conditioning and use of the toilets. But formalities were fairly straightforward, and after about 45 minutes, we were on our way to 'The Shed' (air still off and toilets still locked however) which was straightforward but time consuming. Instead of disembarking for another train at the border to accomodate more narrow Chinese tracks than Russia's/Mongolia's (The only size like this in the world), the system is in place to change all of the carriage's wheels, or more precisely the entire undercarriage known as the 'bogies.'

Everyone in this case stayed on the train while their carriage was slowly raised by special hydraulic lifts and the new bogies slid underneath. All in all, for each carriage to be re-fitted, took about two hours. And the only view we had was the interior of a metal shed with flourescent orange lighting. No getting off and, of course, the power was off and restrooms were locked the entire time. Somehow in the back of your mind, you know they have a system down that's been in place for years with reasons for every detail -- costs and time considerations as well as passenger's safety and comfort must well thought out -- but still in this mind and body numbing state, you can't help but think that, ''My God, please, there's got to be a better way!!!'' Oh yeah, that would be taking a flight.

When we were done, unexplainable some kind of fire was set underneath the previous blase Chinese workers because, after a couple of shouts, they all started running full speed out of the shed! We, of course, just assumed it was normal. Crossing into China after that at about 1am, was pretty magical though. All of a sudden the streets were filled with bikes and a lively mysterious buzz in the air as a group of 'Hell's Angelish'-type mopeds reved their engines along side of us as kind of an symbolic motorcade offering.

We stopped at Erlian, in the Hebei provice (lots of manufacturing and coal), had our first taste of Chinese plums and got cold water. But still no toilet existed at the stop! Back on the train, the toilets were finally opened (4 hours later) and we slept our most peaceful night of the journey yet. The Mongolian attendants (we wouldn't dare call them 'podvinistas') were laid back and approachable. One even kept asking Sarah for the time on her watch and kept using it as the 'official' one. At the end of the journey, they even passed around a guest book for people to sign with names, comments and email.

The morning waking up to the Chinese landscape couldn't have been more different than before. Lush, green farms and rice fields -- even corn. Farmers in hats on bikes and all sorts of old three-wheeled, gas-powered contraptions. It did seem odd that so many were working in the fields solo however.

Then came the afternoon, our first sight of the Great Wall (set into a deep mist and plunging at a 60 degree angle down a mountain near Badaling) and pulling into Beijing (which took longer than one would think as we found out Greater Beijing Municipality was essentially the size of Belgium). Population: about 12 million.


The change upon arrival was equally drastic. There was still somewhat a 'rubble' environment (as Mongolia), but the people were thriving and there seemed to be constant energy and life, even if it was just sitting on a stool in the street, eating boiled peanuts or soybeans, and hawking lots of phlegm (the cultural norm). Yes, Beijing was dirty, but compared to Russia, it was also very relaxed (without sacrificing energy and enthusiasm for life). And you didn't feel like you were going to be scammed at every moment. The best way to see it by far was to jump in.

And that we did. For the next two weeks we saw the Great Wall, Tieneman Square (our guide refused to bring up the 1989 'incident' as he said there were many police in 'plain clothes' listening), The Forbidden City, biked the length and breadth of this thriving, gigantic capital and enjoyed more than our share of outstanding cuisine, for complete dinners with incredible flavors and vibrant spices of fresh pepper, ginger and cumin (the 'taste of Beijing' as we would call it, bore little resemblence to Chinese food in New York) -- the cost: about $5 USD every time.

Our hotel even had free Internet. Albeit most of the sites (including this 'Overland') were blocked by the government. We also got our Vietnamese visa. After applying and waiting for our Pakistani visa for two days - many times in the sweltering heat of the office, we were told by an official that they had 'more important things to do,' -- which was odd because we thought that was the very purpose of the Visa Issuing Division of the Pakistani Consulate. After someone else asked him about a timetable, he replied that he couldn't say for sure and furthermore, 'how long does it takes for us to get a visa in your country?' The person responded, 'I don't know a long time? I guess now I can kinda see why.''






At this point, we figured it was time to get the hell out of Beijing. Sarah had a traveler's food reaction (funny tummy) the next day, so we pushed back our departure to Saturday and took the train to Tianjin, a 'small' port city of over 9 million. Our plan was to the get to the docks in nearby Tanggu (TAHN-GOO) Monday morning then catch the once-a-week ferry and set out in the East China Sea bound for Japan, or, more specifically, the port city of Kobe -- a 2-day trip on the water.