August 2012 – Khalifornianz

Every day we see and or do something we have never done before. These experiences are stacking up one on the other. Even though we are in Mongolia now I feel as if I still haven’t mentally processed Siberia, or Kazakhstan or Uzbekistan or, you get the picture.

In every country, every city, nearly every night we dine with new friends. Last night there was a man eating by himself who looked like a foreigner so we invited him to our table. We spent the evening with John, an American who has lived in China and just wrapped up a trip there, currently from Manhattan who works for a NP that is hired to do diplomatic work with China. Great conversation, great spirit of camaraderie. In Oolgi we met two Americans who had been in Oolgi for only two days and beginning a two year Peace Corp post there. We had dinner with them, one from Encinitas and one from Houston. Fun young men on a mission to make the world a better place and fully prepared to live in places with no running water and winters of 30 below weather for 6 months…. shudder. We have experiences like this every day.

We had a similar experience in Siberia. Half way to the Mongolian border from Barnaul, Russia, is a tiny artist’s colony; Chemal. We pulled in at 6:00 on a Sunday and everything was pretty much closed up for the night but we found a nice B&B. As we sat outside having a piva (beer), a Russian family vacationing for the weekend invited us over for some homemade cranberry schnapps. We ended up spending the whole night with them, eating, drinking and using the Banya they had rented for the evening. Alex, the father, invited his friend, the Chief of Police of Chemal, to join in the festivities. We sat and drank schnapps and drank schnapps and drank schnapps and then the Chief made a call and within the hour someone approached with a shopping bag which he gave to Jim and I. Inside, an enormous bag of Altai herbal tea which we haven’t tried but he says is famous in Russia for it’s health benefits, Ginseng for Jim (we told him we had 7 kids and everything was okay in that department… he had a good laugh!), some other female herb for me and some Altai dried mushrooms which are going in to a risotto when I get home (excited!). Then I asked if we were going to have problems at the border with the “tea” which looked very, well, herbal. LOL, they thought that was hysterical! Lot’s of teams saw pot growing wild in that area, though we did not.

The Banya (sp?) is a kind of sauna but more complex. It’s a building separated from the house and they said everyone in Russia has a Banya. Sure enough as we drove through the edges of the city we saw entire neighborhoods of tiny cottages with a tiny yard and kind of patio covering with a picnic table beneath. We think they are Banyas for people who live in the giant Soviet era apartment blocks in the city. At any rate, you go into the banya and the first room is where you undress. You go through a door into a room that has a wood burning stove and a bench and faucet and plastic tubs. Here you wash up with cold water in a hot, dry, sauna. Then you go into the next room and there’s a regular hot rock sauna with wooden benches and a bucket of water and ladle. What’s not so regular is there is also a bunch of birch branches with leaves tied together in a bundle. You get all hot and steamy and then you thrash one another (or yourself) with the birch branches. It’s supposed to be super therapeutic because of compounds in the birch. I do not know about that but we had a good time whipping each other after six weeks in that tiny car! We were sooooooooo relaxed when we emerged we could barely walk the four flights to our room.

sunrise better — Our last sunrise in Kazakhstan. We spent that night sleeping in the car by the side of the road.

kazakh cemetery — A modern Kazakh cemetery we visited.

Our camping spot on the Russian/Mongolian border. We were joined by a Romanian rally team and a lovely british couple, Shannon and James that had left England in May.

altay better — The Altai countryside looking towards the mountains and border with Mongolia

The beautiful birches that lined the river along which we drove for two days.

chemal1 — The hallway of our rustic Siberian B&B. Beautiful textiles, rough wood, simple white plaster, all made for a real visual treat.

night sky — The night we camped at the border we saw a huge meteor that arced through the sky for almost 180 degrees. One of the most amazing highlights of the trip.

fb siberia 10 — We thought we had it made! Here at the Russian side of the border before we entered Stalag Concrete.

siberia us — Pre-cranberry schnapps, in this lovely outdoor gazebo in the incredibly crisp and refreshing Altai air… soooooo lovely! A nice plate of mutton Manti for dinner with a fresh salad after days of eating sardines in the car, awesome!

siberia 4 — Wonderful still life in the B&B kitchen. Marina the owner and Dia the cook whipped up breakfast for 20 in the most simple kitchen and made it look effortless.

desert better — I went for a hike in the hills near our camping spot on the border. These plants are incredibly miniature in every respect. Just like they teach you on those Discovery Channel documentaries about the desert… water conservation tools. These tiny succulent rosettes were no bigger than a dime.

rock heart — This heart shaped rock reminded me instantly of my “nature heart”, sweet Alexandra Maria who I miss with all my heart!

I have more pictures but it is just excruciatingly slow…. been at this for 2 hours and the exploration of UB awaits!

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

The internet is too slow this morning to load the pics I had hoped to. We are heading out into the countryside for a couple of days. I will try again when we return to civilization.

We rotted in a concrete outdoor pen for 54.5 hours. Oh. At 8,000 feet. In the rain. With a pit toilet and no water access.

I could leave the pen and go into “town” because I had been processed and given my passport. Jim however was being held hostage as they had his passport in “passport control” until customs received the import tax for the car. The town was a conglomeration of depressingly decrepit one story mud brick buildings. I went to buy some ramen and a woman unlocked a shipping container set in a dirt yard. Inside the dim, unlit interior there was an assortment of dry goods on dusty, rickety shelves behind a counter that ran the length of the container. Dish soap, toothpaste, beer, ramen, they were out of water, wafer cookies sold by the pound in open bins, were the choices. I opted for the kimchee flavored ramen thinking the fiery hotness of the kimchee would kill anything that might be living in there and a couple of beers. Upon returning to the Stalag I was hassled by the guard about the beer (this part of Mongolia is ethnically Kazakh and muslim) because another team had created a drunken ruckus the night before. I told him we would drink it after we were out of there and put on my best “you mess with me and I will take you out” body language. It’s amazing how intimidating a mother can be when she wants to be. Ironically the US is called Mongolia’s Third neighbor, after China and Russia, and Americans do not even need a visa to get in so he really couldn’t hassle me about my passport but he dutifully turned every page very slowly and gave me the hairy eyeball.

The second night the guards let us “out” which ironically is “into” Mongolia. They let us out of Stalag Concrete after I started to cry in the Mongolian Customs building when they told me we would be there for a second night. This is after I went in there to use the phone and plead with The Adventurists to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE get us out of there. The head guard yelled at the civilian who was dialing the call for me and then yelled at me. As the words “we have no fire” came out of my mouth I lost it and had to walk outside I was crying so hard. Then everyone rallied to help us “there’s a whole town of people who will gladly help you” one female guard the size of a sumo wrestler wearing head-to-toe camo said in a super thick accent.Earlier in the day I had done some business with her husband. A very sketchy looking guy who exchanged Dollars and some leftover Rubles and Tenge too. This was carried out furtively with currency hidden in book pages because the guards get “angry”. That was the only word spoken in English. The rest of our negotiations involved me punching a number into my iphone calculator which he would tsk tsk, hit clear and punch in his number. Then I would shoot him a look like “what? You think I was born yesterday? Then punch in my number. Back and forth until we had a deal. I have to say that I have grown to relish these currency transactions, it’s like poker but with more adrenalin.More guards and customs officers came over to see if I was okay as I stood outside hunched in the cold, crying. The sketchy finance guy invited us to his yurt for dinner. The other guards looked at us expectantly as if maybe they would be off the hook if we said yes and accepted his invitation. We were desperate for heat, padded surfaces, hot food. Later we heard it was 8 degrees celsius, that’s 46.4 degrees fahrenheit. We were going to buy warm clothes when we got to cashmere country. We had no gloves, sweaters, scarves etc.

We got in his sketchy car with 3 good tires and 1 bad tire and after crabbing through town got dropped of in front of a yurt. He waved us inside and peeled, crab-like, down the dirt road past the ramshackle huts and decaying mud brick walls that had seen better times.

We went inside the yurt, minding our manners by not lingering on the threshold and going to the left, just like we learned from our Lonely Planet guide book. Two young women stared at us and shrugged like, whatever. We sat down on the carpet and I started to cry. Again. That kinda broke the ice. Then more people came in. Stared at us, spoke to each other as if to say who are these people, and then got to their work. A fire built. Meat chopped. Water put on. Tea made. I went out with the girls and babushka (who did all the milking). We brought back 2 plastic pails of milk that were pretty damn tasty.

Long story short we ate boiled goat and hot yak milk from the yaks outside. The hot yak milk was for my cough, they indicated by gently hacking in imitation of me and offering me a steaming hot bowl. Hot milk is not something I would touch with a ten foot pole at home, but we weren’t at home. 🙂

While the girls and I compared music playlists (they like Shakira best) Jim displayed his manliness doing shots of vodka outside with the men. What a night.

When it was bedtime they made up a kind of sofa bed for us. So we slept in the yurt with this family who spoke not one word of english and maybe 5 words of Russian. There were 4 beds: one for Babushka who is 69, then Marnash 19, a boy 5, a couple in their 20’s (she is expecting their first child) shared a bed. During the night it rained and we could hear it pounding on the yurt but we were warm and dry.

Morning came and we all went outside and took turns doing our business on the steppe, the rain gently sprinkling our naked fannies. Then tea with salt, milk and butter. Dried milk curds (not yummy) and fresh cream and butter skimmed off the top of last night’s yak milk harvest. That cream and butter was one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. It was indescribably FRESH, nothing else will ever come close, until we get a yak…

Then a walk back to our 42 degree outdoor prison cell.

Thanks Jeff for calling the US Embassy to get us into Mongolia because I don’t think The Adventurists channels were functioning. I can’t wait to hear that story!

STALAG — The fenced concrete pen where we were held captive.

car coffee — Making coffee in the car. We bought this crazy heating element thingy you hook up to the cigarette lighter and stick in a cup of water. When it worked it was awesome!

Tea before dinner in the Yurt. The bread in the center of the table is fried. We had it cold but it was still awesome. Babushka is a widow, that’s her husband’s picture on the wall above her. Marnash to my right is her granddaughter.

yurt dinner 2 — Making coffee in the car. We bought this crazy heating element thingy you hook up to the cigarette lighter and stick in a cup of water. When it worked it was awesome!

Tea before dinner in the Yurt. The bread in the center of the table is fried. We had it cold but it was still awesome. Babushka is a widow, that’s her husband’s picture on the wall above her. Marnash to my right is her granddaughter.

The baby yaks are adorable! They tie them up to this rope that is staked ot the ground and the mommies stay close by.

Milking the yaks in the dark was pretty interesting. The two granddaughters used flashlights but Babushka didn’t need one. As the mommy yaks were milked one by one her baby was then taken off the rope and allowed to nurse for a little bit then tied back up for the night. It took at least an hour if not two to milk 12 yaks. It was pretty darn cold and windy and drizzly.

The hotel in town?

While we were in the Stalag we entertained ourselves by unloading and loading the car a few times. This is our sump guard which we were going to bring back to the states and mount in a case on a pedestal in our foyer. Instead we decided it was For The Gods and left it behind.

Babushka’s husband’s uniform. Preserved for all to see on the wall of the yurt.

This is how meat is stored in the yurt. Looks like goat. The hunk we had for dinner was taken from this selection.

The Stalag was not without it’s wild life. We were entertained by these marmots that lived next to the fence.

These kids would come to the fence and ask us for “presents” and try to sell us goat horns and skulls. I went up the road and gave them the paddle toys we brought, they liked them. I tried to sell them but they would have nothing of that even though they kept trying to sell stuff to us. LOL. What one will resort to when bored out of your mind. We all really felt like prisoners in a prison camp. One Aussie noted that due to international regulations every country in the world with the exception of North Korea would have given us shelter and a bed if we were in a prison camp. In hidsight we should have just gotten arrested and then maybe they would have dragged us someplace warm.

The interior of the yurt before everyone got home. Our dining table on the left and the stove ont he right. When the fire was going and cooking was going on it was toasty warm in there. Not a bit of smoke came into the yurt, it all went out that chimney pipe through the ceiling.

The road to “town”. Ummm yeah, looks appealing, non?

yak milk — The baby yaks are adorable! They tie them up to this rope that is staked ot the ground and the mommies stay close by.

Milking the yaks in the dark was pretty interesting. The two granddaughters used flashlights but Babushka didn’t need one. As the mommy yaks were milked one by one her baby was then taken off the rope and allowed to nurse for a little bit then tied back up for the night. It took at least an hour if not two to milk 12 yaks. It was pretty darn cold and windy and drizzly.

The hotel in town?

While we were in the Stalag we entertained ourselves by unloading and loading the car a few times. This is our sump guard which we were going to bring back to the states and mount in a case on a pedestal in our foyer. Instead we decided it was For The Gods and left it behind.

Babushka’s husband’s uniform. Preserved for all to see on the wall of the yurt.

This is how meat is stored in the yurt. Looks like goat. The hunk we had for dinner was taken from this selection.

The Stalag was not without it’s wild life. We were entertained by these marmots that lived next to the fence.

These kids would come to the fence and ask us for “presents” and try to sell us goat horns and skulls. I went up the road and gave them the paddle toys we brought, they liked them. I tried to sell them but they would have nothing of that even though they kept trying to sell stuff to us. LOL. What one will resort to when bored out of your mind. We all really felt like prisoners in a prison camp. One Aussie noted that due to international regulations every country in the world with the exception of North Korea would have given us shelter and a bed if we were in a prison camp. In hidsight we should have just gotten arrested and then maybe they would have dragged us someplace warm.

The interior of the yurt before everyone got home. Our dining table on the left and the stove ont he right. When the fire was going and cooking was going on it was toasty warm in there. Not a bit of smoke came into the yurt, it all went out that chimney pipe through the ceiling.

The road to “town”. Ummm yeah, looks appealing, non?

Somehow the fact that we were going to Siberia esaped me. Really. It’s beautiful! Farms, stands of birch trees and the greshest air imagineable. Although Kazakhstan was a great experience, we were glad to finally get out of the heat and dust. As we made our way north out of Kazakhstan from Almaty to Karaganda things became greener and we definitely in Steppe. Not a tree insight. Or bush. Superb circumstances for roadside pit stops :-D.

Our last two nights in Kaz we slept in the car. It was cold and drizzly and well, you can imagine. Both days though we got early starts trying to book to Russia. From here it’s two days to the Mongolian border.

As the weather grew cooler the last two days we have been able to read in the car and listen to music and talk even! (Because the windows are up and our brains aren’t getting sucked out by the wind.)

We are apprehensive about our crossing of Mongolia. It’s going to be hard. Our car has very little suspension travel and bottoms out at the slightest bump – maybe because the front shocks are leaking, LOL. We’ve heard it’s a sea of mud there because of recent rains. I am on round two of antibiotics and not completely varsity but we are READY! Last we saw 108 teams had made it to the finish line and many, many teams were seen stranded in the mud. Out of 300+ teams that started that means two thirds haven’t made it by the second finish party. The o

We got an early start this morning after sleeping in the car on the road. Thankfully it was cold! We awoke at about 4:00 a.m. And pulled long sleeved shirts and longjohns out of our bags and snuggled back down cozy warm.

We had hoped to make it to Semey tonight and the Russian border tomorrow. If we had, we would have a slight chance of making the last finish line party on August 24th. Instead we are sitting in a Mercedes dealership. We pulled over a couple of hours ago to review our map and the car would not restart. A couple of guys gave us a jump (didn’t work) and then a push start (worked) so we pulled in here.

Jim is freaking because we are in a dealership: they charge full price and won’t let him into the garage to troubleshoot. I am delighted because they have wifi, beverages and air conditioning. I am going to try to convince Jim to buy a Mercedes ( I am sure they would love to get the Panda in trade) and we will drive it to Mongolia and ship it home. I know, not likely but a girl can hope 😀

Here are some pics. Last night’s camping spot. Lake Balkhash party boat. Etc. xoxoxoxo cannot wait to get home!

When we arrived in Aktau, Kazakhstan; we pulled up to the Marriott and the doorman waved me off to go around back with a scowl on his face. I looked like a homeless woman. When we arrived in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan I requested a room for 2 nights and the desk clerk said “one night only” waving a nyet nyet finger in my face. It was as if she was letting us in only because her ethics or religion or cultural hospitality could not let her turn away a visitor, but there was no way our kind of riff raff was going to be able to stay for a while. She later relented and let us stay for two nights. 🙂 When you drive through the desert with the windows down you get filthy. My hair gets matted from the wind whipping in the window. We get in the shower and the water runs off us in brown streaks.

I expected a reality shift during this trip. A reset of what I considered normal or comfortable. Now a good road is a blessing and a half. A toilet that is ceramic (squat or not) brings relief. A clean shirt, folded, fluffy, from the hotel laundry service brought tears to my eyes. I sat and held it up against my cheek and savored it’s softness and clean smell. (We’ve been doing our laundry in sinks and tubs of hotel rooms. Works fine but things don’t seem to get really clean and never fluffy). A really, really, cold drink… is an amazing and special treat that is savored. Wifi is a treat and when it is fast is a dream come true. The kindness of strangers when you are at your wits end trying to communicate without speaking a word of russian, is appreciated beyond what words can describe.

About a week ago we ran into the BSM team, Joe and Tom and since then have run into more. It’s like a funnel now. After Almaty we go to Semey and from there to Barnaul Russia and into Mongolia; there’s only one road and we will all be on it for two days or so. Meeting other teams we find that they are all suffering from the same What day is it? What country are we in? What currency are we using? confusion that we have. Since everyone we have met is younger than us it is clearly not age related confusion but rally confusion.

We have also run accross teams doing other rallys. We met three italians doing a rally that started in Milan and ends in Dushanbe. They were being arrested for not registering in Kazakhstan and staying for more than five days. That was at the Uzbekistan/Kazakhstan border; four hours of the most insane, time wasting, inefficent, ridiculous beauracracy ever. Although Turkmenistan would probably come in first for lousy border paperwork plus it cost us $208 in various fees. Coming into Uzbekistan there is a “Doctor” and if you look sick they force you to undergo and pay for “medical exam”. I was running a fever and coughing and trying like heck not to cough. The border guards are now asking for “American Souvenirs”. They want our rally T-shirts and look all around the car for something juicy they can snag. It’s pretty darn funny. We just laugh and refuse.

We camped under the stars and watched the Perseid meteor shower, that was awsome. Now we are in Almaty, the former capital of Kazakhstan. It’s gorgeous with the snowcapped Altay mountains in the background. We took a tram up a hill and visited the history museum and saw beautiful gold artifacts from Scythian burial sites of 400 BC. We are gearing up for our last push here. Three more days or so and we will be in Russia.

I cannot caption the photos individually from my phone. So here are the descriptions:

1. These men pulled alongside us on the road and relentlessly asked us to have tea and lunch with them. Jim thought it really meant vodka… He was right!

2. The path to the bathroom at the restaurant.

3. The bathroom.

4. After our bbq lunch we saw this car on the road. Hmmmm wonder how much of the meat we have eaten arrived like this. Best not to ponder.

It looks like the car is fixed and we will be hitting the road tomorrow. Just as we achieve some facility with the currency and police we switch countries and start over, LOL.

Uzbekistan is wonderful, amazing, the people incredibly friendly and they love honking and waving at us. We feel like celebrities with all the attention the car gets. We were lucky enough to break down just before the border and were towed into the country by team Ball Sack Mafia. A couple of sweet Aussie guys despite their team name…

The car has been with a mechanic here in Bukhara for three days. It is really, really, hard to get parts. They find parts to other cars that are a close fit and make the best of it. It gave us an oportunity to see most of Bukhara, the pearl of central Asia. We got to sightsee, shop, nap and souce decongestants (i am still sick, unbelievable). Bukhara is so exotic and beautiful. Everything is a dull tan color until you get inside and then it is a riot of color and plaster work and fabrics and carpets… Really and truly jaw dropping.

It was fun to convoy with Joe and Tom: they are pure entertainment and kept us laughing our heads off. We are eager to get going but love sitting still. The roads are exhausting. Between the heat, dust, and bumpiness of no shocks and deep ruts, a day on the road lands us in a hotel and we fall asleep instantly, exhausted.

I heard it is cooler up ahead and that will be great!!! It is sooooooooooooooo hot. We are looking forward to a change of scenery too. We have been in the desert for 12 days or so.

I have such mixed feelings. I miss the kids like crazy and cry if I see a picture but am loving every minute. I am eager to get back to work but don’t want this to end. I am excited at seeing what is next but hate the idea of another rough road. Sigh. 🙂

We arrived yesterday afternoon after what can only be described as a bizarre day. Even though we had serious car issues and a nightmarish border crossing our mood was pure joy and excitement. For 3 nights we have convoyed with Tom and Joe: Australians, team Ball Sac Men.

I am sitting in the courtyard of our hotel. An 18th century villa that was a gift to the emir. Nobody is up yet. I am enjoying the solitude and spaciousness of this moment.

Staff is setting up a table for breakfast which will be eaten in the courtyard. This is where we had dinner too. Under the stars. Warm. No lighting except for the niches. The birds that were twittering in the grape arbor earlier left us in silence. Awesome salads, stuffed baked peppers, bread and a large bowl of fruit. Beer. Perfect.

I will enjoy this peace now before we start working in the car and figuring out if our problems are solveable. No fiats here so parts are an issue.