Whenever I told people that I traveled alone I immediately got the following comments and questions.
1 E.T Phone Home
Aren’t you afraid of getting lost? Hmmm yes I do. In fact I always get lost. I am often lost in the same city I’ve been living for years. I’m miserably lost finding my way to a restaurant, a bar I had visited no less than ten times. I have no sense of direction, and I probably trust a tourist in helping me to take them to where they want to be in my territory. Getting lost is a fact of my life. What’s new?
Everybody said that I was traveling the world. I think not. Traveling the world, to me, is bumping from one place to another, crossing continents and visiting at many countries as possible, many of which were randomly selected.
I’m not traveling the world as I am going home, a long way home in deed. The 1st home means where I came from before, and where my parents lived. The last home is where I live now. And if it worked out and I crossed to Vietnam from China, the title would be “Home, Home and Home.” It takes so long because I wanted go overland as much as possible. If I had more time, instead of flying in and out of Australia, I would to do it by ships.
When I planned my 6-month off, the second destination (the first was Siberia) I wanted to be was Tibet. I concocted a plan how I would spend a month or perhaps two there, roaming the highland, staying with local Tibetans, tended goats or sheep, then trekking to North India. Yeah you can tell this plan has the smell of Brad Pitt’s Seven Years in Tibet all over it. But more than just a pure adventure, I wanted to be in this deeply spiritual and religious land to relearn Buddhism.
Half of the story behind the Great Walls of China isn’t in China. Even when you have a very good tour guide, read lots of books and watch lots of films, you still get half of the story. To fully understand and visualize the origin of this wonder of the world, you need to go to the other side and meet the descendants of the people who once terrorized not only China but also half of the world.
I visited Mongolia in the 21st the century, the era under rapid urbanization and unprecedented development and progress in technology, yet I felt like walking in the past: people wearing traditional costumes, herding their animals on horseback, living in tents and moving about with their animals.
Traveling on the Trans-Siberian trains through the longest rail track in the world is an experience of a lifetime. Everybody has heard of the word Siberia, but only some have an idea where it is, and only a few want to get there.
Siberia is more of a concept than a place, unless you live there. Some might imagine danger when they think of Siberia. After all, Siberia is a former hang-out for exiles and convicts, an ice-cold place in a remote part of communist Russia full of Russian mafias.
“Mendee, you’re Asian, why you’re eating like Western people?” I yelled at Mendee, my driver who kept eating bread in every meal including those typical Asian: instant noodles and rice. “You eat like Russian.” “Yes, it’s because of Russian influence,” Gambar, the guide, replied.
At first, I automatically assumed that Mongolia was more similar to China because they were both Asian countries and had years of assimilation. Their facial features are similar though Mongolians have more slanted eyes and rounder, puffier faces. They both use chop-stick. They eat instant noodle. They are both traditional and dictated by rules and traditional beliefs.
“If you can dream – and not make dreams your master; / If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;” (Rudyard Kipling 9-10).
“Life is not about eat, sleep, pee-pee/poo-poo” was the favorite wisdom my uncle passed down to his two children to warn them from having their life governed by these three basic deeds.
It seems to me that I committed all three in the last three months. Each sin is guided by the nature of my traveling in each specific country.
Where else to ride a horse than the very place which invented horse riding. I did 3-day horse trekking at Khovsgol Lake starting from Jankhal where the guide and his horses lived.
The manager of Garage 24, the Guesthouse we stayed in Khatgal, called other families in the region until we found a family who gave us the best deal. It cost 20000 MNT per day for the guide and10000 MTN per day for a horse plus each horse plus one horse to carry our luggage.
To test your knowledge of geography, people always ask for the capital of Mongolia. If you can name “Ulaanbaatar” it means either you didn’t sleep in high school or no one is expected to know about this strange-sounding name.
I ran out of Russian ruble in Ulan-Ude, my last city in Russia. Not wanting to withdraw more oney to have Lenin watch over me, I left for Ulaanbaatar (UB) three days earlier than planned with a lot of misgiving. I wanted to rest after a month of rough train traveling and camping with minimal washing, but not in a country known for its intense sun shining 250 days in the year and not in a city sounded like a dairy product (Ulan-Butter).
My name is Cindy, also rhymes with travel junkie. A friend said I was probably a gipsy in my previous life. One of my many secret missions in life is to convert you to run off every once in awhile.
