-
After paying off the driver in rubels instead of tugriks, the Mongolian official currency, I feel good about myself for sealing a good deal. The grin doesn't lasts long though - on my way to the train station I enter a bank by accident only to find out that elementary maths is sometimes not so elementary after all.
As predicted by my very handy guidebook the train indeed leaves in the evening this very day so I have plenty time to kill before then. What to do, what to do.. The option to drop my backpack at the luggage office is not there to be taken so I back out the door in full gear and head for the city center. As it is clear in a few minutes this is as a city center as it gets. Main road surrounded by apartment blocks, a hotel, a row of short houses, a cafe or two and a grocery shop. It all becomes slightly hazed when the wind picks up and blows the almost invisibly thin dust that is the pavement into my eyes.
I am happy though. The few locals I meet consist mostly of pretty girls in their late teenage years eager to spend a smile on a lonesome foreigner such as myself. It might be my intensive gaze bringing love and friendship from across the world that brings it up in them but it's the response that counts, right? I remember the few early spring days in Paris wearing my eye-strikingly red ski jacket and the amount of eye contact there so I quickly scan through my outfit to confirm that this time I indeed don't look like a dick!
The happiness is slightly distorted when an intensely looking member of the male population walks by. The Altanbulag experience haven't worn out completely yet so I am very wary of taking out my camera and make shots of this interesting town. Thin, plain and definitely under-seasoned but quite exotic to my European eyes.
I consider having a lunch since the day has grown older since my poor breakfast in Russia. I pass by a few cafes, the equivalent of fast food restaurants anywhere else, but they all look as if the last customer left weeks ago. Feeling suddenly sociable I ask a pretty lady whether she speaks English. She doesn't get to know what I have planned with her when she says no and walks away but the next person along can in no way be reproached for the lack of interest. It is a male in his late twenties eager to spill his English vocab all over me.
I do not remember his name although we almost instantly become friends. Without any hints on my part he chooses the familiar Ladi from Ladislav as the appropriate way to greet his newly found best friend. There is not much in a way of politely refusing his services when he large-heartedly suggest to take me to the right restaurant. I am not surprised when we enter the exact places I have checked out before. I am very conscious of the fact that this will cost me dearly but am in no position to refuse his company being new in the country with its own cultural peculiarities and all.. So we walk and 'talk' and become more and more best friends.
I feel a sort of tension and anxiety in my guts for being dragged into this but as I remember the brilliant quote in my guide book regarding traveling - Whatever you do, leave your worries behind - I relax and start enjoying this new experience. After all he doesn't look mean or unfriendly and his built suggests I have a chance at taking him on if it ever comes to that. This thought makes me smile.
I am not exactly sure what is wrong when we exit the first cafe and head for another. But as we sit down in the next one and my friend tries to order beer for me I learn that today is the alcohol no-go day. Apparently there is a drinking problem in the country (not really a surprise) so the government decided to ban alcohol every first Tuesday (!) of the month. Since I am a foreigner this does not seem to particularly bother anyone and there are two beers in front of us in no time. My companion recommends a steak of some sort and although I think his culinary vocabulary starts and ends with this word I solemnly accept since no other options seem to present themselves.
I have already accepted that I am paying for our romantic dinner together and relax while I plunge into the plate of minced beef that is the steak I ordered. My friend does not seem to have ordered anything to eat but as if from nowhere two vodkas appear on the table after his short excursion to the bar. Ladi, is this ok? Ladi, my friend, I have little money. My wife beat me, no money.. Ok, Ladi? Poor little bastard, I think to myself, cheers to him and his poor miserable life as I shoot in the 10cl vodka. As a streak forms on my chin I realise that human mouth is not made to contain this amount of liquid at one time. I swallow and look up catching my friend's surprised gaze: Isn't this how the Mongolian's drink? I thought I'll show him that a white man can drink too. Not a Russian but a Slav after all. He drinks it in two halves while I pay attention to the texture of the minced material in my mouth.
Ladi, my friend.. You know, I little money. Ladi, bad.. my wife beat me. You go home, Ladi. My wife not home.. Ladi, you go to me.. - Ladi, vodka?
Ladi no vodka, but you be my guest. I sip my beer while he continues to unfold his life's story while sipping the second 10cl vodka. I can only hope it is the lack of words because it seems to revolve along the wife-beats-me-up-no-money story with little else on top. His words seem to become mumbled and I am an awe at how quickly a man can became totally drunk. Just before he assumes the classic superman position he suggest we both leave. I am not going home with you you said little soul, forget it! I meet the barmaid's eyes and she looks worried. I excuse my self to got to the loo and without a word ask the barmaid to look over my stuff while I'm gone. I take my time and five minutes later arrive to the apparently next act; the play has seemed to pick up the pace, there is some turmoil at the back followed by a young man entering the scene and rapidly moving forward. As he walks to the table I left only five minutes ago my eyes find my compatriot hanging onto the chair with the last of his strength a thin string of sticky saliva coming off of his mouth. It seems I missed a lot during my little trip upstairs. When I am brought the bill I apologize for my companion. The barmaid understands and her eyes suggest I pack my bags and leave him while there's a chance. That's nice of her. I think of giving her a tip but on seeing the final figure on the bill I quickly change my mind. Feeling the vodka kick in I put my backpack on and leave my compatriot in the hands of rougher men in despite of his continuous requests to take his best friend home.
The pace has definitely picked up. I feel the vodka burning my senses as I walk out into the sun. Ah.. I can feel the adrenalin mixing in. I am grinning like mad at recent adventurous developments and am ready to take on the whole of Mongolia! Muahaha! Watch me come!
-
I dig out the camera and get into the streets full of confidence. I shoot almost everything that moves making a little trek up the near hill with magnificent views of the town..
-
Two hours later on my way back to the station I can still feel the effects of the vodka. My steps lead my along the incriminated restaurant. It is too late to turn around when I notice the caricature of a man that was my best friend lying on the ground in an unfamiliar position. I baldly walk along when he, recognizing the bulk of my backpack, tries to engage me with an unspellable muahehh..
And so the friendship ends! I walk up to the ticket window to pick myself a ticket still able to use my charming Russian. Half an hour and a big bag of biscuits later the train arrives. I can see some foreign faces and when one of them asks for time I cannot help but inquiry on the source of his journey. Irkutsk. We left last night at about ten o'clock.
Ah, the joys of good planning! It is the same train I took and left this morning at Ulan Ude. While these poor souls spend their day sitting on their arses waiting for kingdom come, I have been through a damn bloody good adventurous day!
Well done, Ladi, well done indeed!
Friendship is constantly on rise and fall in Mongolia, right? Or, it just depends on amount of vodka, that you are able to consume :-)
ReplyDeleteStory and pictures are brilliant ;-)