Ulaanbaatar

Today has not been a good day for Babu, Temujin's cousin. He has been driving me around Ulan Baatur but we keep running into trouble, despite the fact that he took so much time spinning the prayer wheels at the Gandantegchinlen Khiid Monastery monastary this morning. First, with the prayer wheels still spinning, he offered to take some photos on my behalf of the huge golden statue of Migjid Janraisig, a Buddhist deity. This led to him being forcibly ejected from the hall housing the statue. Later, at the new tomb of Sukhbaatar, the revolutionary hero, we reversed over a low wall and got the car stuck. The Axe Hero used to be housed in Sukhbaatar Square in the centre of the city but has been moved out of town as the country slowly starts to distance itself from its Communist past. To get to the National Cemetery, where he is now housed, we pass through streets of auto shops, that are really just cargo containers full of car parts. A gigantic wood yard sits close to the gates of the cemetery, outside three men struggle for a bottle of vodka, their fight causing them to fall dangerously in front of the car. Behind the cemetery are 14 simple monuments to those who died in the tragic helicopter crash almost a year ago, volunteers trying to help put out a fire in a nearby village. This is a much more touching tribute than the square block of Sukhbaatar's (possibly now) final resting place.

The worst incident of the day comes when we are driving along Peace Avenue, the main street that is just as congested as most of the other roads in Mongolia's capital. Combined with the factories, Ulaanbaatar's traffic problem is meaning that the blue sky Mongolian's worship is becoming harder and harder to see. We stop at a junction and I think I see a policeman pointing at us with his dreaded white stick. However, when we begin to cross the intersection he seems to be wanting the car behind us so we breathe a sigh of relief. At the next junction the signal is unambiguous, we must pull over. This policeman asks for Babu's licence then walks back to directing traffic. Despite the reputation of traffic police in Russia I avoided any run-ins with them by sticking to trains, which don't get caught in speed traps. However the Mongolian police are apparently just as bad, though amazingly the Mongolians do not have a rude nickname for them as the Russians do. After waiting for about ten minutes I suggest that the Russian label, Moosara, meaning garbage, might well be appropriate. Babu asks what's happening and the policeman says he must go to the first policemen at the other intersection as he is busy taking money from another poor motorist. Babu asks what he has done wrong, the policemen says that he ignored a signal to stop and must pay a fine of 10,000 Mongolian Tugrugs. Why? Babu asks. OK, 5000 responds the policemen, losing considerable credibility. But why? says Babu. OK, 4000, that's final, says the policeman. We pay the 4000 but I am quite happy because I get some excellent photos of the whole process. Babu signs something and the policeman hands us our two reciepts, with 2000 tugrugs of bribe on each.

Later, after a trip to the "Naran Tuul Market" (Formerly known as the Black Market) to interview "cross border tradesmen" (Formerly known as smugglers), we headed to the Zaisan Memorial. Next to the hill on which this sits is another large gold statue, this time of Buddha himself, that was paid for by the Koreans. Babu spends a long time praying because today has been so full of bad luck.