tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14300121713550939962024-02-07T05:40:46.543-08:00SingapoochA family journal in SingaporeRicky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-56827283431344786232015-01-05T09:57:00.002-08:002015-01-07T12:45:40.498-08:002015 - Back in Colorado<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's been over a year since we left Singapore, we are settled back into our Colorado lifestyle and loving it..... but we miss Singapore! Despite the population density, the city "energy", the heat, the humidity, there are so many aspects of the town, and Southeast Asia that we really miss. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, as a way of reminding us of our former temporary home, we decided to export these blog pages into a book - hope you enjoyed it!</span>Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-74853861155956428512013-10-16T15:38:00.002-07:002013-10-16T15:41:27.406-07:00Epilogue<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBOqkTyZbQ1DGIbaF47CU8T5O3lvyWdigseG9favcmT7vEFbexjb3kmq5IN3tq9VQiWhgKm2Cr8aau8vmAs89DlE-_gL2ypDvrwUeKvc_ZqaoKgwomaw6jN4vFsPeeWE_HyJK26QBfQYF/s1600/DSC_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBOqkTyZbQ1DGIbaF47CU8T5O3lvyWdigseG9favcmT7vEFbexjb3kmq5IN3tq9VQiWhgKm2Cr8aau8vmAs89DlE-_gL2ypDvrwUeKvc_ZqaoKgwomaw6jN4vFsPeeWE_HyJK26QBfQYF/s200/DSC_0076.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7sWOdiz0bt4tsUiSO0VXYUBqYurIX1dKYmSuYPbgcdZC-cWJBC8er9ByXbhGUAYj1fpwT9VBi2ic_Nwg2w0N5RT4qa6iCS_7N09vQ7bwffsb2opGa0TtF-rrlPzDyTyiaq0z77z989IZ/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7sWOdiz0bt4tsUiSO0VXYUBqYurIX1dKYmSuYPbgcdZC-cWJBC8er9ByXbhGUAYj1fpwT9VBi2ic_Nwg2w0N5RT4qa6iCS_7N09vQ7bwffsb2opGa0TtF-rrlPzDyTyiaq0z77z989IZ/s200/DSC_0003.JPG" width="132" /></a><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Our return to
Colorado marked three events – the return from our “long way home” through
September, a return from an exciting and rewarding two and a half years in Asia,
and the end soon to this blog. Our long </span></span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">trip home and
our time in Asia made the world smaller for us. We looked into the eyes of
people living their lives in many different ways, yet the looking and the
smiling brought us closer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On our return
to the USA from Asia, many people asked us about our “vacation of a lifetime”
as we attempted to travel from Singapore to Colorado with as few air miles as
possible. Ricky said many times that </span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">this was not a vacation, but a
journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A journey both physical - as we
rode the rails across two continents - and emotional – as we entered more than
just a new life chapter, but a </span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Part 4,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with
many chapters left to be written. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Air travel has
opened up this world to so much accessible exploration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, we have taken full advantage of it while
based in Singapore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This past month,
rolling through the spectacular mountains north of Beijing, running parallel to
the portions of the Great Wall rarely seen, and waking to camels in the eastern
Gobi grasslands pacing to the </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnhON2-0K0iJ0Jli_U1wFFZXUWTt5Ac4aO3_gY3yEBKWO8YVLLDRK8NVQLv0GA5b1k4dmjW7O6Gw_yrENQtgf2lEVVksIFcXJUE4QKrXyzf-h3QryZHx8XbFfDYNhyYtAgZbI8HYuxXTN/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnhON2-0K0iJ0Jli_U1wFFZXUWTt5Ac4aO3_gY3yEBKWO8YVLLDRK8NVQLv0GA5b1k4dmjW7O6Gw_yrENQtgf2lEVVksIFcXJUE4QKrXyzf-h3QryZHx8XbFfDYNhyYtAgZbI8HYuxXTN/s200/DSC_0059.JPG" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">speed of our Mongolian train, created an awe in us
as we became aware that this was to be a different experience from a regular holiday
based on air travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were best
prepared for Mongolia where we knew what </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">we wanted to do and how we wanted to
do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Gobi surpassed all
expectations yet Ulaanbaatar surprised us with the vibrancy of the Mongolian
urbanites and the intimacy of Mongolian Buddhism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bumbled into our weeks in Russia with
little preparation other than train tickets and an equal number of days off the
train winging it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, we stumbled onto a
vast pristine wilderness, hundreds of miles of golden aspens and birch, jaw-dropping
palaces and churches, and wandered through a forest, practicing the time-honored
Russian tradition of picking wild berries and mushrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also traveled across 8000 km of Trans-Mongolian
and Trans-Siberian rails, likely built and maintained by the enemies of the
Soviets between 1919 and 1960 who were imprisoned in forced labor camps. Our
faces were not buried in books as we expected but in the windows looking at a
world we could not imagine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We think we saw
many of these gulags that had evolved into small towns along the route. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">And we </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">
coasted
out of Russia across the Baltic Sea through the striking archipelagos of
Finland and Sweden on a Russian ferry where we were the only Americans on board.
We certainly could have continued on the surface of the planet, but public
transit options became sketchy and we wanted to begin the second chapter of
Part 4.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">We are thankful
of new friends we made in Singapore who have enriched our life, and of old
friends who have launched brand new dimensions within us. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Singapooch is
home to about 140 posts during our time in Asia and our return to the US. We
have been astonished at the approximately 10,000 page views over the past three
years. Thanks to all of you who have travelled along with us and enhanced our
experiences with your comments.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">In Tim Burton’s
1988 movie ‘Beetlejuice’, the Deetz family moved into the house of the suddenly
deceased Maitlands. The Deetz’s battled
with the ghosts of the Maitlands’ for most of the movie only to reconcile at
the end into a productive coexistence. We’ve changed from our </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKcm2YknP_4f1ADexFcpdZoUDLob8ZEsJfl1ZOlB6dpitjkQcXzwG2WZr-SqkTI4k2w04d-k0X4VVw87L3HAJWmOjrqVlM-4buB3nvwpbCZ1pBoTTj33ytEsUdy4voZj2Gu-J3USNVi7_/s1600/IMG_1285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKcm2YknP_4f1ADexFcpdZoUDLob8ZEsJfl1ZOlB6dpitjkQcXzwG2WZr-SqkTI4k2w04d-k0X4VVw87L3HAJWmOjrqVlM-4buB3nvwpbCZ1pBoTTj33ytEsUdy4voZj2Gu-J3USNVi7_/s200/IMG_1285.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">experiences –
hopefully for the better- and in many ways we are both the Maitlands and the
Deetzs – we are moving back into a house that was occupied by people who no
longer who they were. We will work hard to take the best of the Daly’s who
lived in this house until March, 2011 and the new Daly’s moving in from
equatorial Asia. There will be
adjustments, but we are grateful to all our friends who make us feel like
nothing has ever changed and have taken us as we are.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-9898061571836603102013-10-16T13:21:00.001-07:002013-10-16T13:21:41.433-07:00Why is Ricky Not Smiling?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVI4i1MVDN5gDO0S_7IO_gHj0TF2_8CNe830T025d7L31fh3880_f5Y5-Rtko3oq7NN20dMWjPl1eDhIwCIldVzeu8lNylvsBqRZl8Af1rOLf9Y6hrHdJyQFfIbf47S8-2c39UDVsYNVG/s1600/IMG_0746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVI4i1MVDN5gDO0S_7IO_gHj0TF2_8CNe830T025d7L31fh3880_f5Y5-Rtko3oq7NN20dMWjPl1eDhIwCIldVzeu8lNylvsBqRZl8Af1rOLf9Y6hrHdJyQFfIbf47S8-2c39UDVsYNVG/s320/IMG_0746.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, toothy smile??</td></tr>
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<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">After never
having to have any serious dental work performed because of her lifetime of excellent
home care, Ricky needed a dental implant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe from a face plant on the ski hill years ago, maybe too much rough
play with a special Labrador Retriever – the tooth could not be saved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few weeks before our long ride home, she
got the treatment and was fitted with a temporary tooth that gave her a magnificent
smile. Weeks later, on a stunning ridge at the northern edge of the Gobi in
Mongolia, the temp tooth was more comfortable in a Mongolian vegetable dumpling
rather than her jaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No pain, no risk<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimg55e-HzhssaxDW1194g_IiqENuDY-lhmk4xjwTnqdLemot4JY9XOvwOQa1gX52nmKfN1RSBRKqqa3vztgzdNayIrF_lPTQ53AbMVPiZz3sAit7thnypA_IpkqW5oxbox7SWdPffJUFR9/s1600/IMG_0675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimg55e-HzhssaxDW1194g_IiqENuDY-lhmk4xjwTnqdLemot4JY9XOvwOQa1gX52nmKfN1RSBRKqqa3vztgzdNayIrF_lPTQ53AbMVPiZz3sAit7thnypA_IpkqW5oxbox7SWdPffJUFR9/s320/IMG_0675.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Scene of the Crime</td></tr>
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of
infection, but Ricky wasn’t comfortable looking like a Russian hockey
player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We created cover stories (‘She
lost it in a bar fight in Beijing” seemed to have the most traction), tried to
call on a satellite phone to her dentist for advice, and the magnificent
smiling stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, at least slowed
and mutated into a wide grin with lips firmly together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five days later, Ricky was in a chair with a
Mongolian dentist who was very taken with the implant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not certain how many implants have been
enjoyed by the fine residents of the Mongolia capital – yet, she fitted Ricky’s
tooth with surgical SuperGlue (really, the same as regular SuperGlue). $30. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ricky asked her for some spare surgical glue,
you know, just in case. A Premonition<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,
No, No!” the dentist said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ricky could smile again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A week
later, now in this beautiful place – and on <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw23VIdxemPkaBzkgGynvp0bwmsz2LFZ9uttFMUBXjHhpPTTjpkcSs5Y-AGt6ZigEmquQXc8YbmVcr2JXjjRMo6KkUkzjm4-uMXiXFEtxCN6o6XMMyv1l72pTY8qWHaNqZMYmmqfmeBLqr/s1600/IMG_1060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw23VIdxemPkaBzkgGynvp0bwmsz2LFZ9uttFMUBXjHhpPTTjpkcSs5Y-AGt6ZigEmquQXc8YbmVcr2JXjjRMo6KkUkzjm4-uMXiXFEtxCN6o6XMMyv1l72pTY8qWHaNqZMYmmqfmeBLqr/s320/IMG_1060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sun Rises for the last time on a full smile</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
our 17<sup>th</sup> wedding
anniversary no less – all the work of that fine dentist in Ulan Bator was lost when
the tooth again escaped into some hamachi sashimi. Back came the sheepish grin,
and a speaking style best described as one sees when one is giving painful testimony before a
congressional watchdog committee. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
pressed on to St. Petersburg where, five days later, we found an international
dental clinic in the shadow of the Savior of the Spilled Blood Cathedral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>International, except that they only spoke
Russian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We searched for regular
SuperGlue all over this city of 5 million but only found small bottles with
cyrillic writing and a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVqjUuGxKH-3X_bnN5ctfZsTfuupDTeEJiIhwD02aJVzqL6ygaZ6pAvJ7_gRPGwqPmZiS7rJRlJ_0EkDi3GMVev11-qBIhUYegZRwquwKhzjoqllkxlYuoL6xwOshuMEd1YGw8wzv6alz/s1600/poison.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVqjUuGxKH-3X_bnN5ctfZsTfuupDTeEJiIhwD02aJVzqL6ygaZ6pAvJ7_gRPGwqPmZiS7rJRlJ_0EkDi3GMVev11-qBIhUYegZRwquwKhzjoqllkxlYuoL6xwOshuMEd1YGw8wzv6alz/s200/poison.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, Ricky! Don't make me do it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>poison tag. “No,
No, No!” I said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ricky researched Russian
for “tooth” (zoob), “glue” and “implant” – but found a less cooperative dentist
here. “No gluing, but I’ll make you a full crown for a few hundred US” was the
gist of what Ricky could understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
grimace and pained speech pattern continued, now coupled with a look of someone
who just suffered a small TIA. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
beauty of St. Petersburg, sailing the Baltic Sea, a day in Helsinki, the gorgeous
archipelagos of Stockholm, and an upgraded flight to the US, occasionally
brought the magnificent smile back from time to time. Without the temp tooth,
but beautiful to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grimace in all
its glory returned upon landing in Newark – but for all the right reasons. I
mean, Newark! Two days after our return, so did the tooth in its rightful position.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t4v8komc83kmvOhHNAn1Hj5zMhEeOTlHHy9LcaeX9YROemu_POPo8N2zKNc8EbsQNpSQLDqgiwMxaBsVohyUOb2lPfYxQb5_4zWlFboJbK2yagYfC7HFwKMsrsb3gu-zdzzR3grCy9tp/s1600/IMG_1298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t4v8komc83kmvOhHNAn1Hj5zMhEeOTlHHy9LcaeX9YROemu_POPo8N2zKNc8EbsQNpSQLDqgiwMxaBsVohyUOb2lPfYxQb5_4zWlFboJbK2yagYfC7HFwKMsrsb3gu-zdzzR3grCy9tp/s320/IMG_1298.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, this is far from a Russian Hockey player</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-29863021298957823422013-10-13T20:44:00.003-07:002013-10-13T20:44:59.345-07:00The гэр of the Mongolian grasslands<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIPjDogz8hOpGMagVgj3RqsZctEC4sAfUFCA9Cd8GzB6JkVWc2DTBp2e4x8RgYJAOwYU0ZswNLZP7IoXqSQTtFWiHETH74mY5Um5lXyoOF2zYuBfFDB4An7b2JeNzIolvYtgFFz9k5xIB/s1600/IMG_0793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIPjDogz8hOpGMagVgj3RqsZctEC4sAfUFCA9Cd8GzB6JkVWc2DTBp2e4x8RgYJAOwYU0ZswNLZP7IoXqSQTtFWiHETH74mY5Um5lXyoOF2zYuBfFDB4An7b2JeNzIolvYtgFFz9k5xIB/s200/IMG_0793.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Gers at Three Camel Lodge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">The Mongolian <span lang="EN">гэр
(ger) are all over Mongolia and we saw them frequently in the </span>Buryat (autonomous)
Republic in Russia north of current day Mongolia. These are a construction and cultural marvel. More
commonly known to us as yurts, these are called “ <span lang="EN">гэр “, pronounced “ger”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in Mongolian, meaning “home”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>They really haven’t changed much in over
eight hundred years and date back over three <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWAjTrHhmnKzsDbIvnD3pbIfURBbJgYJGi4PmFV8QCbcfXVOIzmBUgVyH0AnNIK7LTVV54G9Meharfr_rVxKUzpekDY8Qgs1I6CIAbNuLj9HlEt7nyfd6soCzZ1PNHEO8I9NLY6uUwoE6/s1600/IMG_0846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWAjTrHhmnKzsDbIvnD3pbIfURBbJgYJGi4PmFV8QCbcfXVOIzmBUgVyH0AnNIK7LTVV54G9Meharfr_rVxKUzpekDY8Qgs1I6CIAbNuLj9HlEt7nyfd6soCzZ1PNHEO8I9NLY6uUwoE6/s200/IMG_0846.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the Basics - partitioned floors and lattice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
thousand years - as long as the nomadic life in Mongolia has
been, and remains, the centerpiece of their culture. “I was born in a ger and I
will die in a ger”, from an urban Mongolian we spoke with. </span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">They are the home of choice for the
nomadic people of Mongolian who follow their herds of horses, cows, yak, sheep,
goats, lamb and camels as they follow the grasses and grazing lands. In a land like this with a harsh continental
climate (90F in Summer, -30F in Winter), the grazing <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNug0lRkMimZfxkK-zAsUSB1vpI09SfIpfxEQYkNFZ-KPwWGdZtyo71zoc-7oFZU-cSLohmZ3yd4QG9JsijIkNftLJFU5Tq1qEKbPCu-hJXmY-6NidRLfBZiiJWKWdtpUWBQbT_o3Cke-/s1600/IMG_0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNug0lRkMimZfxkK-zAsUSB1vpI09SfIpfxEQYkNFZ-KPwWGdZtyo71zoc-7oFZU-cSLohmZ3yd4QG9JsijIkNftLJFU5Tq1qEKbPCu-hJXmY-6NidRLfBZiiJWKWdtpUWBQbT_o3Cke-/s200/IMG_0849.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No nails - all secured<br />
with cured tendons</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
herds need to keep moving
to find enough feed. Why roam? Take the
USA as an example. In the lush
Mississippi basin, ranchers plan for two cows per acre in a managed pasture to
sustain a healthy herd. In drier Southeast
Colorado, those same two cows need about 75 acres. Go north to drier and higher climates with
shorter growing seasons, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Xq8Bco_0qml9svdx9P_hO2I_GVxL3FATIVaX51avMIQAR5u6_7GoFOxJdoezPMbr8LENvYRasxmGkD36apj-zGYmvLkpgFtfq21_uNtpvVLfU_KZBR99VMb3cHV_n0-LHdHcR9VR_J6P/s1600/IMG_0850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Xq8Bco_0qml9svdx9P_hO2I_GVxL3FATIVaX51avMIQAR5u6_7GoFOxJdoezPMbr8LENvYRasxmGkD36apj-zGYmvLkpgFtfq21_uNtpvVLfU_KZBR99VMb3cHV_n0-LHdHcR9VR_J6P/s200/IMG_0850.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sections secured with<br />
tendon ropes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
maybe 150 acres of growing grass for those two cows.
Mongolian nomads have no concept of this math.
They have the whole of the Gobi, the sea of grasses, with lands of no
fences and no land ownership. We were
told that today over 800,000 Mongolians are nomadic herders that live in many
of the same ways already well established by the time of the clans of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiov0G4WUNNfQDAPXYvOrPCn8NL6jn1RJdOMfO6HRCG8olA3FG4Pw8kfgtKeZHN2f1JvSquFI8UesGFA3bb8qcJ4YOyrnKto16LLz8deUy-Svy-9tZLD_vDJ7n4VdWr2quCcgdFVb_3Kt3c/s1600/IMG_0851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiov0G4WUNNfQDAPXYvOrPCn8NL6jn1RJdOMfO6HRCG8olA3FG4Pw8kfgtKeZHN2f1JvSquFI8UesGFA3bb8qcJ4YOyrnKto16LLz8deUy-Svy-9tZLD_vDJ7n4VdWr2quCcgdFVb_3Kt3c/s200/IMG_0851.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The structures is supported by<br />
horse mane rope strengthening<br />
the round walls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Genghis
Khan in the 12<sup>th</sup> century. Their
gers up quickly, pack tightly, pulled by a yak cart (old school) or Toyota
pickup (new school), are incredibly stable and quiet in the ferocious Gobi
winds, and warm? Well, maybe. No windows to let in the cold air, but the
ventilation stack at the top center of the ger is open to vent the stove that
is the center of activity in the nomadic ger.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAM7a_Czl5btUNR3E-66CE3SNll8Zm7vhXMTCgHonanqdCSazkchDMmWvtAsRwgguHR33-5H0LMsvlTx0QlhuWMlkbGTiN7o6L5V7t0Uc2LzM0MNDai-PF1vgygEttXFM10KF8GAyCXxdG/s1600/IMG_0852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAM7a_Czl5btUNR3E-66CE3SNll8Zm7vhXMTCgHonanqdCSazkchDMmWvtAsRwgguHR33-5H0LMsvlTx0QlhuWMlkbGTiN7o6L5V7t0Uc2LzM0MNDai-PF1vgygEttXFM10KF8GAyCXxdG/s200/IMG_0852.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The center roof support<br />
stove vent on the south</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We stayed in five as we drove over a thousand miles around Mongolia and
visited two nomadic families (blogged in earlier posts). Our nights dipped into
the 40’s F <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHUssR7ko_8yliK4y9oxK7KJ9Nx0Xa_mRx3A6HWVRrddU8U9lW1-lCA2IZ3qXBA3iy4EQE0Lp5Qocz7nWUPsxibYNv8BIzc_XLEqNPujC_7yFUoWDw3Ks-_9nBGS5H87VLnXPIJeCC5N3/s1600/IMG_0855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHUssR7ko_8yliK4y9oxK7KJ9Nx0Xa_mRx3A6HWVRrddU8U9lW1-lCA2IZ3qXBA3iy4EQE0Lp5Qocz7nWUPsxibYNv8BIzc_XLEqNPujC_7yFUoWDw3Ks-_9nBGS5H87VLnXPIJeCC5N3/s200/IMG_0855.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">85 roof beams come from the center cap</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
and we woke to gers with interior temps in the 50’s F. Our stoves were tourist accessories – used
for heating, if you asked, and not for cooking – and fueled with wood. Wood never lasted through the night and the
nomads use dried dung and coal – unfriendly oders perhaps to western
visitors. Those stoves last the
night. The construction without nails
and, as is typical with the nomadic culture, uses as much from the animals they
herd as <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuYdZJCuJ4LAR4t-otV4Pl2fLcLRg08zUfzMWPUiaDLaekOhRvGRlIYnc3rxKRQLsyPjnctZpT0wD0W-0RH6ERxppKKzAAkf5qZA9HSgQ0L32zkoHvEPL8Z6YkylYPhRiwo8gbwobrTuU/s1600/IMG_0856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuYdZJCuJ4LAR4t-otV4Pl2fLcLRg08zUfzMWPUiaDLaekOhRvGRlIYnc3rxKRQLsyPjnctZpT0wD0W-0RH6ERxppKKzAAkf5qZA9HSgQ0L32zkoHvEPL8Z6YkylYPhRiwo8gbwobrTuU/s200/IMG_0856.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and radiate out to the top of<br />the lattice walls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
possible; ropes from horse manes, ties for the lattice work from cured tendons and muscle, and felt
covering from the wool from goats and sheep. All that felt keeps em quiet in
the wind! One night I awoke thinking,
“hmmm. I don’t recall putting in ear
plugs like I was wearing <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljE0A5-Jbi54jJae8gAtxk1lVEwkPH9IFJ77uiLg2Ne37AFBqckMdyV3VitFZd63Nl6Eb6BUFCcET_w56CYe483N-1y5LJ0xr_Anhp8oC6G0C7ZZFVVCnAwaOla4mx7guEXbFhLMmeTEi/s1600/IMG_0860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljE0A5-Jbi54jJae8gAtxk1lVEwkPH9IFJ77uiLg2Ne37AFBqckMdyV3VitFZd63Nl6Eb6BUFCcET_w56CYe483N-1y5LJ0xr_Anhp8oC6G0C7ZZFVVCnAwaOla4mx7guEXbFhLMmeTEi/s200/IMG_0860.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside - wrap with felt, secure with<br />horse ropes, and load down<br />with rock weights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
on the train…”.
I hadn’t. We liked them enough to
talk over whether we want one for some property we have in southern
Colorado. You can spend well over
$10,000 for ones constructed in Montrose, about 2,000 euro for ones from Scandinavia,
or we can return to Ulaanbaatar and buy a kit for $1,000 and ship it back! I am not quite sure how our homeowners
association may take to this…..<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1Ne5tH9sFnoccjdQeQE021qH0VZLiw60XJXF4E2ON5x6-O1wOmuuzSfvWLJJUDiQ6xodmju8e2NBjkPlsK7H5NupblwkfAO_EUifysQLr4GxVfe-wy1jbAe7hWUT4A-5r8GgtsEBlF3i/s1600/IMG_0863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1Ne5tH9sFnoccjdQeQE021qH0VZLiw60XJXF4E2ON5x6-O1wOmuuzSfvWLJJUDiQ6xodmju8e2NBjkPlsK7H5NupblwkfAO_EUifysQLr4GxVfe-wy1jbAe7hWUT4A-5r8GgtsEBlF3i/s320/IMG_0863.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside - a quiet heaven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-13804608492080752032013-09-30T12:00:00.001-07:002013-09-30T12:00:39.999-07:00The Soundtrack of the Journey<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Zkw2gH51OdOprI2Tsq9PvlYD7wIg4J2212996nB5UOnwEg8iGIzHfxSGMJcI0p2tC3Ni56uxWicwq7fmm65xTxupeaoVSS8ZOD80XvbfCHFCWNkB7qO2qfHOgibbLQSdiaarvji_ROuy/s1600/IMG_0535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Zkw2gH51OdOprI2Tsq9PvlYD7wIg4J2212996nB5UOnwEg8iGIzHfxSGMJcI0p2tC3Ni56uxWicwq7fmm65xTxupeaoVSS8ZOD80XvbfCHFCWNkB7qO2qfHOgibbLQSdiaarvji_ROuy/s200/IMG_0535.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fiddle with its master</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">In Mongolia, the most respected traditional instrument is
the horse-head fiddle, or morin khuur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With a sound much like the violin-cello family (they come in several
sizes), they have 2 strings, tuned a perfect fourth apart, and are played with
a bow and an intricate style of fingering along the fretless neck, which has a
hand-carved horse’s head at the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
a beautiful sound and a treat to hear one played by an expert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through our associates in Mongolia, we had
the honor of listening to a young, yet highly-trained fiddle player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were driven to a back <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIR-I2c_npuH4OyPsJPBEiHSaxn2ooFKATfzVbLZ0OvOUPRS23xLDXFM_jAtV6Xl0QI_BejMUgRR3P3F6bpMyXdNKF8pEOznS56XAf-OjSyp30UUJpuYY7LIcfTYn6x0qHE5n5AMgNL_9/s1600/IMG_0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIR-I2c_npuH4OyPsJPBEiHSaxn2ooFKATfzVbLZ0OvOUPRS23xLDXFM_jAtV6Xl0QI_BejMUgRR3P3F6bpMyXdNKF8pEOznS56XAf-OjSyp30UUJpuYY7LIcfTYn6x0qHE5n5AMgNL_9/s200/IMG_0919.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the master in performance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
door of the main
symphonic hall in Ulan Batoor, and led up about four floors using a back staircase
to a small room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young man,
impeccably-dressed, came into the room carrying a magnificent cello-sized
horse-head fiddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat down and
effortlessly demonstrated the range of the instrument and his ability, his
fingers flying up and down the neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Much of the music intentionally imitated horses running, enhanced by an
amazing and unusual fingering technique on the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDGImuBtzw4rVNxEdXIgB16o4qInOVhqrnRMyY8tUdz6fAMb_iffYpDv4i7AZ3jLB3cjAr8SisgOjzipWOPsqu7UaVQUsTjCZ66oq_0QoRNfd3IAbm5JiEYh-l-itcKzYjA2ivb1lxsY6/s1600/IMG_0925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDGImuBtzw4rVNxEdXIgB16o4qInOVhqrnRMyY8tUdz6fAMb_iffYpDv4i7AZ3jLB3cjAr8SisgOjzipWOPsqu7UaVQUsTjCZ66oq_0QoRNfd3IAbm5JiEYh-l-itcKzYjA2ivb1lxsY6/s320/IMG_0925.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a Fiddle Orchestra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
instrument’s neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were mesmerized by the playing, when
suddenly we heard an eerie sound accompanying his playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He began singing, using the Mongolian technique
of khoomei, or throat singing, where two tones are emitted at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were lucky enough to enjoy throat <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XVVw1aBjaeQKMBe1zcgiv9r9fp3jqhTTcnilEkE12ymbJmkC69R17PhyDRgkcWIQc0zkj3T8KBw3xZa8ZUTAtJbhJAmNHJsbYOvTO_ZMf3mf2Elsfjp130h20z1xriwBJ0XYeQRBCehS/s1600/IMG_0634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XVVw1aBjaeQKMBe1zcgiv9r9fp3jqhTTcnilEkE12ymbJmkC69R17PhyDRgkcWIQc0zkj3T8KBw3xZa8ZUTAtJbhJAmNHJsbYOvTO_ZMf3mf2Elsfjp130h20z1xriwBJ0XYeQRBCehS/s200/IMG_0634.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fiddler and throat singer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
singing
accompanied by the horse-head fiddle a couple more times, in a ger on the
steppe later that week, and again while wandering around a Buddhist temple the
day before we left Mongolia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A very
unique and beautiful tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaFVElku1tBPg42MtDJeas0Jhz_elUBYNVQBNCwWy5nyNCDfB8gkNieY1p6Yflf-xVpSRFkoViS0rGgyeJ9kAudPWfqT0lrqACXkjf0xxUkP5NUFHLKhqtplMtMWFUhCECG-7gYyMAAOT/s1600/IMG_0911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaFVElku1tBPg42MtDJeas0Jhz_elUBYNVQBNCwWy5nyNCDfB8gkNieY1p6Yflf-xVpSRFkoViS0rGgyeJ9kAudPWfqT0lrqACXkjf0xxUkP5NUFHLKhqtplMtMWFUhCECG-7gYyMAAOT/s200/IMG_0911.JPG" width="133" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">In Yekaterinaburg, music quite familiar to us unexpectedly enhanced
our experience at the Church of the Spilt Blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a beautiful Russian orthodox church
built to honor the family of Czar <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXWrIxwTr-ue5I4PYAF7Qevhf-J7svPZaEKpuZdU85pcMhlVxBnEWz3szfkdeZD7DVp33HMenIZqIZWbsEl6YPXi_OUgQwapky0ZpvCUP7A3zws722RHNM3VStKdaRxkCF1YKZLa-7Ukf/s1600/DSC_0070+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXWrIxwTr-ue5I4PYAF7Qevhf-J7svPZaEKpuZdU85pcMhlVxBnEWz3szfkdeZD7DVp33HMenIZqIZWbsEl6YPXi_OUgQwapky0ZpvCUP7A3zws722RHNM3VStKdaRxkCF1YKZLa-7Ukf/s200/DSC_0070+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the Cathedral of Spilt Bood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Nicholas II, who were slain by the Bolsheviks
in 1917 where the church is located.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Recently, the entire family was canonized, and inside this church they
were portrayed as saints, with renaissance-style haloes painted around their
heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we wandered in the rooms
displaying relics related to the family’s deaths, a haunting rendition of Schubert’s
Ave Maria floated into our consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next door, there was an informal concert in progress, with vocal solos
and readings performed, all out of respect for the royal family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Romanovs are still much loved by a sizable
portion of the Russian population, and this experience accentuated that for us.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmarClKJ1t8MMynYykVn5vFz71UzhFUYKyKCC3NTuqTNSY48xSCq1h9iLdbsx8afOQDwpmbOU01HwRj_itcyiC_oYG3ORVQRxmsnI3yrvJL7wJzjzcuqr8q9gQ7rSSszBkr4HWExyAsX4g/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmarClKJ1t8MMynYykVn5vFz71UzhFUYKyKCC3NTuqTNSY48xSCq1h9iLdbsx8afOQDwpmbOU01HwRj_itcyiC_oYG3ORVQRxmsnI3yrvJL7wJzjzcuqr8q9gQ7rSSszBkr4HWExyAsX4g/s200/IMG_1219.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the Grotto</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Tsarskoye Selo, the summer palace, was the home of Russia’s
royalty since Alexander I in the 1700’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The focal point of this large property, about a half-hour drive from St.
Petersburg, is the Catherine Palace, with a 365-meter-long façade and miles of
gold filigree, mirrors, marble and amber, including the Amber Room, with
amber-covered walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We visited the
Palace and then strolled around the expansive grounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We entered “The Grotto”, a round, stucco building
facing one of the property’s lakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
building is known for its incredible acoustics, due to the interior’s shape and
materials used, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We entered
the building and our associate, Maria, spoke briefly to a few men milling around
inside the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought they were
caretakers, or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then they
lined up, five abreast, facing us, and started singing an old Russian tune, cappella.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was stunned – the pure, perfectly-blended
sound flowed through me, my eyes welling up. The sound, the surroundings was
overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was magic.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2jrvhWeLIXrC9zATS6IMpznqrtwDcrJwsn75oWfJaPsndpPJMLUhK8L3bwo-pD3l7mHytWjEQiuG2xN407LHEovZsrWwjfwrl6UNfrJGSNNObOAk5PIG8riJdUj8YmT17XVZRjK6gzcu/s1600/IMG_1415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2jrvhWeLIXrC9zATS6IMpznqrtwDcrJwsn75oWfJaPsndpPJMLUhK8L3bwo-pD3l7mHytWjEQiuG2xN407LHEovZsrWwjfwrl6UNfrJGSNNObOAk5PIG8riJdUj8YmT17XVZRjK6gzcu/s200/IMG_1415.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gathering for the concert in Stockholm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Lp-SjnPNhwwXH3_Z3QJYDXypJ9FmIBFkrw_brXwOOZH201xGDl0_V5TksZMr-wNyqcw-XroMrnYduRUaCD8asCde2plyEu3J_K1lDcPIVHG06geZVSN75X1z8zMIcP2UdWmWde_GO00r/s1600/IMG_1417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Lp-SjnPNhwwXH3_Z3QJYDXypJ9FmIBFkrw_brXwOOZH201xGDl0_V5TksZMr-wNyqcw-XroMrnYduRUaCD8asCde2plyEu3J_K1lDcPIVHG06geZVSN75X1z8zMIcP2UdWmWde_GO00r/s200/IMG_1417.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">announcing the chorale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Once more, yesterday afternoon in Stockholm, we were walking
around the old part of the city when we heard a choir coming from a Stockholm Cathedral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were rehearsing for a concert two hours
hence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had no plans, so we attended,
and it was wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t make a
habit of going to choral concerts, but in this case, the choirs were
exceptional, and the acoustics, once again were astounding, as<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the voices, singing a range of music from
contemporary to Brahms resonated off the cavernous walls of the cathedral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a full house.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-65849260071271392912013-09-30T00:34:00.000-07:002013-09-30T00:34:11.365-07:00Across the Baltic Sea<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaBZSEJb6LenB3641I5FWUem3oAo0pYJhkUn20g1djWpxctfrDR4e4V4oY6PrRWTaxbHiJUec7e_zq2NDrIkliGOKS0OyhkQO2I1YmeKxTFDnzh5GUPV0UnOn6e6y261Nr8WPWQOLGCsm/s1600/IMG_1315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaBZSEJb6LenB3641I5FWUem3oAo0pYJhkUn20g1djWpxctfrDR4e4V4oY6PrRWTaxbHiJUec7e_zq2NDrIkliGOKS0OyhkQO2I1YmeKxTFDnzh5GUPV0UnOn6e6y261Nr8WPWQOLGCsm/s200/IMG_1315.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">We left Saint Petersburg to board a ferry to Sweden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this could have gone one of many
ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I (Chris) had planned for an
austere, bare bones, but comfortable trip for two nights across the Baltic on a
Russian ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was emerging was a
new approach to a ferry system; the Baltic had been without a ferry service serving
Saint Petersburg for 15 years until this new one began in 2010 – the Saint
Peter’s Line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A western, “market based”
approach with Vegas-style burlesque shows, casinos, and huge capacity – serving
Russians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late September meant fewer
choices yet smaller crowds so we ended up <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQ9_oY5GQn1IZrc8iOFsewsA__3U101cdJPRTlobWlnxqSimjBD7ozpMG7aKN_2LepWz221KBNV86CcsilkOn2sgPfN1BB04rPECr8WOr5MNu3VbJULalFRg6o6oUdwCqwpQsJlDYJ7n0/s1600/IMG_1381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQ9_oY5GQn1IZrc8iOFsewsA__3U101cdJPRTlobWlnxqSimjBD7ozpMG7aKN_2LepWz221KBNV86CcsilkOn2sgPfN1BB04rPECr8WOr5MNu3VbJULalFRg6o6oUdwCqwpQsJlDYJ7n0/s200/IMG_1381.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a quiet moment staring ahead</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
with the best of both worlds -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a ship with all the comforts of a big scale
ship with crowds at about half capacity - and all in Russian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bonus: Travelling on the weekend meant the
European Russians were as occupied with televised football (soccer) as Yanks are
with the NFL and college games on weekends. We had the ship to ourselves
anywhere out of range of an onboard satellite television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found no other English-speaking passengers
– and while the ship staff did speak English far better than we spoke Russian,
it was clear (and only right) that they catered to their Russian
clientele.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No Issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except when <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4iBvVp_VWuBkljGAYUlndvaK247RV9_dFC6nAg79kslAecZmG7RcMFmrd7FMz8QhiZo-U_CvopvpsejQXeaTniXUVx3P7CyyiFf3SeAfYJaw8-CKHFCpBjqQPln_fPhn9jZP9FEZKzzNU/s1600/IMG_1340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4iBvVp_VWuBkljGAYUlndvaK247RV9_dFC6nAg79kslAecZmG7RcMFmrd7FMz8QhiZo-U_CvopvpsejQXeaTniXUVx3P7CyyiFf3SeAfYJaw8-CKHFCpBjqQPln_fPhn9jZP9FEZKzzNU/s200/IMG_1340.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helsinki's farmers market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
we began seeing lots of
references to Finland and we were convinced that we had gotten on the wrong
ship. Glasses of champagne only heightened our confusion and concern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, Saint Petersburg to Stockholm was less
than 400 miles, so two nights and 38 hours of steaming probably didn’t add up –
but we really don’t do much math while using public transportation
internationally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We asked the staff in
simple English if we were stopping in Helsinki – and we got looks <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje793R6trQWNstBIYh09itEdyJszXRKhgpewbJSiduE_ATSRSqmw3XBOXt7LBf6rIUlNkSp04z2BMqAbLSMH18sgCn-yY2R1-poSKMKFSF0ttR2G-8MQs8lbQjawjJ6qhrAGwJdCUudZtX/s1600/IMG_1346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje793R6trQWNstBIYh09itEdyJszXRKhgpewbJSiduE_ATSRSqmw3XBOXt7LBf6rIUlNkSp04z2BMqAbLSMH18sgCn-yY2R1-poSKMKFSF0ttR2G-8MQs8lbQjawjJ6qhrAGwJdCUudZtX/s320/IMG_1346.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knitting and Selling in Helsinki</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
deserved of the
idiotic question we asked – well, yes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steaming
across the Baltic was beautiful. “Archipelago” hadn’t had much meaning for us
growing up on in the Mid-Atlantic states and living for 30 years in Colorado –
here we sailed through the definition of the word – the Baltic Sea and the Gulf
of Finland are studded with thousands of islands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found a quiet lounge that looked forward
from the bow and, like on the trains, we were pasted to the window – watching
the narrow navigation channels between small islands and rock outcroppings, the
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDi779ELPG6Ek1JewU1KBtEPM2gJ07vB4CgiPNustjHxkmmrx94psyNQVmt2ecDeqpYXHa-nK8PujJdUz3Si61ZtYqUC3ZcsOMoCpsh3EAzKxVAVquqNfKuCjr0m-Dty-YjTh69NtJE6wi/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDi779ELPG6Ek1JewU1KBtEPM2gJ07vB4CgiPNustjHxkmmrx94psyNQVmt2ecDeqpYXHa-nK8PujJdUz3Si61ZtYqUC3ZcsOMoCpsh3EAzKxVAVquqNfKuCjr0m-Dty-YjTh69NtJE6wi/s320/IMG_1392.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steaming through the Swedish Archipelago<br />approaching Stockholm at dawn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
dim lights on the larger islands, the sailboats making the last trips of the
waning summer, and the commercial traffic that keeps the Baltic an active and
vibrant sea-faring region.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Six hours in
Helsinki was a huge bonus!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A beautiful
city by the sea, rich in 14<sup>th</sup> century architecture, hosting a
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX4SpzbemvXikMUxpwATIVOTZbMWmD799GumsypHUNmVbqwyt15VKuo65AJrNjtalkwcQZ_y8aQMNokLrL983tqlUPsMVgzpfebNiuxB4f_3ATZaSwXHOKfnsBmKIotH0gcdjCNda-FdU2/s1600/IMG_1372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX4SpzbemvXikMUxpwATIVOTZbMWmD799GumsypHUNmVbqwyt15VKuo65AJrNjtalkwcQZ_y8aQMNokLrL983tqlUPsMVgzpfebNiuxB4f_3ATZaSwXHOKfnsBmKIotH0gcdjCNda-FdU2/s200/IMG_1372.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dueling Ferries</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
wonderful farmers and local crafts market on a clear and crisp Saturday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KRdVJchupXop5DWx8xzwBZFw96YuuKkv1KG8xXQUo12ClwULEZSWR_xnA6W7ILz7XwjxnmfPXaWOANJbH-6pjlUaWj4RnGSl9QAyElbCK3wyz-hQJmH8ioSeG3hgatVhLoT078YxrWME/s1600/IMG_1408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KRdVJchupXop5DWx8xzwBZFw96YuuKkv1KG8xXQUo12ClwULEZSWR_xnA6W7ILz7XwjxnmfPXaWOANJbH-6pjlUaWj4RnGSl9QAyElbCK3wyz-hQJmH8ioSeG3hgatVhLoT078YxrWME/s200/IMG_1408.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blankets are standard issue at<br />Stockholm's Gamla Stan<br />outdoor cafe's</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We found restaurants focusing on varieties of
fresh pickled fish that were filled with families and friends in their “Sunday
best” enjoying multigenerational meals overflowing with warmth and
laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">We re-boarded the ferry for twelve hours to Stockholm and
found ourselves in another archipelago city – with ten times more islands guarding
the city than Helsinki.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stockholm is
larger and for the first time in a while, we felt like we <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINXb8HSdK8hnjO2ovzWvCft6HngqM1eXEJ02Hc2Vt-i8s_9xs8zDqgx8X2TS0LvE5rxlET1OaaoXS6CB0IRRTVD7gZxG4l0bJt692z_WSmRm9gpGSLOTVO5eZuGsxT-5nqTRk7x6eF5j0/s1600/IMG_1395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINXb8HSdK8hnjO2ovzWvCft6HngqM1eXEJ02Hc2Vt-i8s_9xs8zDqgx8X2TS0LvE5rxlET1OaaoXS6CB0IRRTVD7gZxG4l0bJt692z_WSmRm9gpGSLOTVO5eZuGsxT-5nqTRk7x6eF5j0/s200/IMG_1395.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gamla Stan - Stockholm's<br />13th century old town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
were in a well-established
western democratic city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We enjoyed a larger historic center and a
concert in a cathedral with a history dating to the 13<sup>th</sup>
century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A well-established and
seemingly well-respected arts community thrives in <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCOWok2WEE6Okh2GyLQEr6Wy1BrIUU5m28X7K0ff_p4lmiDrxfcbsbJZLYhWVpV0ZnzaZbdLu2kMyTdkPMybfaP_U64qpo_fYaCSl67L_TfOURjWBE51C6grGVye-qBhDiUUdY9de9ZSL/s1600/IMG_1384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCOWok2WEE6Okh2GyLQEr6Wy1BrIUU5m28X7K0ff_p4lmiDrxfcbsbJZLYhWVpV0ZnzaZbdLu2kMyTdkPMybfaP_U64qpo_fYaCSl67L_TfOURjWBE51C6grGVye-qBhDiUUdY9de9ZSL/s200/IMG_1384.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a cool sunset</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Stockholm side by side with
a strong tourism sector that sells the Swedish equivalent of the American rubber
tomahawks. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">We began this journey together on an equatorial island
surrounded by the South China Sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
crossed the Eurasian <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>continent as we transversed
Mongolia and Siberia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, we returned
to sea and the far north archipelago in the Baltic Sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later this week, we return to the top of the American
continental shield just below Hoosier Pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A good end.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-21670131425780793732013-09-26T09:22:00.003-07:002013-09-26T10:04:17.075-07:00St. Petersburg is a hellava thing<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWN0oA7f0TdqEAwZ6i3yJNMrxIS2v-sRmRIUzeeQVfk8WAT8JyWi8Q7Wu16nP81oaTePDNSioz-R2bCoy_jsJkpLlSTmm_sfIJBxtIgM0gX3ggOXmMg2ekMa7KRvLMDcwqtjRsOSTFLOiu/s1600/DSC_0119+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWN0oA7f0TdqEAwZ6i3yJNMrxIS2v-sRmRIUzeeQVfk8WAT8JyWi8Q7Wu16nP81oaTePDNSioz-R2bCoy_jsJkpLlSTmm_sfIJBxtIgM0gX3ggOXmMg2ekMa7KRvLMDcwqtjRsOSTFLOiu/s320/DSC_0119+(2).JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tsarskoye Selo - the Summer Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Visitors to St. Petersburg follow a well-worn path through
the city and it’s environs: the Winter Palace and the Hermitage, arguably the
biggest and grandest museum in the world, Petrodvorets, a “Versailles by the Sea”
with jaw-dropping fountains and water cascades everywhere, Tsarskoye Selo, the
Summer Palace and home to the Amber Room; and the city sights: St. Isaac’s
Cathedral, Cathedral of the Spilt Blood, and so on. Indeed a stunning “well-traveled path” and it
was hard to not say to each other often, about everything on this path, “that’s
a helluva thing”.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOY82_foahlIlGRnLkIcI6lEbxnWqCP0eFIS0yUCfC-Bhk6hfR63pxOrbPpsBRgjF9AV3UaoyHGr-mmWr41H0aX9JkgwxM0OhvaEnI52etTFByTPDh1eQSS6u-1-p_Ufn0ZegH2L4Oezq/s1600/DSC_0110+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOY82_foahlIlGRnLkIcI6lEbxnWqCP0eFIS0yUCfC-Bhk6hfR63pxOrbPpsBRgjF9AV3UaoyHGr-mmWr41H0aX9JkgwxM0OhvaEnI52etTFByTPDh1eQSS6u-1-p_Ufn0ZegH2L4Oezq/s200/DSC_0110+(2).JPG" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hidden Corner at<br />
the Hermitage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">We avoided the tourist buses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even this time of year, the shoulder season, they
were filled with people with twenty years even on us! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went on our own, frequently alone, but
often in the company of a St. Petersburg native with passion for their city and
a uniquely Russian perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">We’ve read the tour guides, researched Trip Advisor, educated
ourselves on the Imperial history. We’ve heard the criticism, largely western,
on the opulence in St. Petersburg as a way to explain the many revolutions. What
we didn’t know was the perspective of a cross-section of Russians about this
city, through the October 1917 revolution, the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnlVxtTiPe8tfpgFe1o3Htv8RXJ_JhqdKPveDq6mC2wQLf3OXornjpBHygXd4PxN0L2iaaF3bcCrrFLLDu11GD3jKYZr6SWY1nOiL0pJddZXe-GuB7iLGFztJY0MODWzBOU-AzsHTHsMco/s1600/DSC_0108+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnlVxtTiPe8tfpgFe1o3Htv8RXJ_JhqdKPveDq6mC2wQLf3OXornjpBHygXd4PxN0L2iaaF3bcCrrFLLDu11GD3jKYZr6SWY1nOiL0pJddZXe-GuB7iLGFztJY0MODWzBOU-AzsHTHsMco/s320/DSC_0108+(2).JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">at the Hermitage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
deaths of the last tsar, his
family and most faithful servants, through the early revolutionary days and the
Stalinist 1930’s, horrible WWII that took a massive toll on St. Petersburg (Leningrad,
at the time), the Cold War, Glasnost and Perestroika, the collapse of the
Communist Party in the early 1990’s, and the emergence of a market economy. The
20<sup>th</sup> Century was really the century of challenge and change for St.
Petersburg. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This “well-worn path” of spectacular
architecture survived through it all. Thrived, some say, during a period of otherwise
incredible hardship throughout Russia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Lyudmila led us through the maze of rooms, collections, and
large tourist groups in the Hermitage and the Winter Palace museum. This place
has arguably the most impressive art collection in assuredly the most
impressive museum building in the world. This was the palace envisioned By
Peter the Great and expanded by Catherine the Great in the early 18<sup>th</sup>
century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems like all revolutions
begin in the square outside its gates and one was close during our visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris was scolded in Russian by a tour guide,
her umbrella and flag held high so her throng of garlic and Ben Gay smelling
80-somethings could see her diminutive presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, Chris was lingering too long in
front of a Monet and “he’s <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL88-5Y3ZUgHYl_jhFyzh6wAs07nzY9jm7DPPPIRZDBFScpEmUvF0YZliUwaZ8lMWyXOlF8sC8n19rewRI-XKtbWXDSjNKzuQL2DHcV6wqkuF7xA8laBaSK_Is7uCsPsEXzFuIBP73kkY/s1600/DSC_0122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL88-5Y3ZUgHYl_jhFyzh6wAs07nzY9jm7DPPPIRZDBFScpEmUvF0YZliUwaZ8lMWyXOlF8sC8n19rewRI-XKtbWXDSjNKzuQL2DHcV6wqkuF7xA8laBaSK_Is7uCsPsEXzFuIBP73kkY/s320/DSC_0122.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just any old room at Tsarskoye Selo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
too big for standing there so long!”, as she barged
in with her gallery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t even know
how to respond to that” – Lyudmila.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lyudmila
likes the quiet passages of St. Petersburg – the back alleys, the buildings
that you can walk through to get a momentary sanctuary from the rains and wind
and cold, and even the quiet places within the “well-worn path” in the
Hermitage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, the summer is too
short, the winter gets longer just when you think it’s over, but she loves her
city and can’t imagine being anywhere else. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Maria joined us for the Summer Palace, Tsarskoye Selo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also a vintage of the early 18<sup>th</sup>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJBEPsCfQJivRN2poQYP-2ZSf0l9DzZSrB6aXy691LjhDtyNVWsD1zRPpmfTegGWRzwZwzqTmW8RFkOrlujtbizyrceOUZjy3gd0zI3tkl2XERpFKIa7fAv3YQz5bCovf4rcr9_WzznVm/s1600/IMG_1243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJBEPsCfQJivRN2poQYP-2ZSf0l9DzZSrB6aXy691LjhDtyNVWsD1zRPpmfTegGWRzwZwzqTmW8RFkOrlujtbizyrceOUZjy3gd0zI3tkl2XERpFKIa7fAv3YQz5bCovf4rcr9_WzznVm/s320/IMG_1243.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just any old Fountain at Peterhof</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tsarskoye Selo was in Nazi-occupied
St. Petersburg (the main city was held by the Russians but blockaded and under
siege for 900 days).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tsarskoye Selo was
looted by the Germans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gold leaf
frescos, the Amber Room, century old paintings by the masters – all left as
piles of bricks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a suspicion
that the palaces at Tsarskoye Selo were bombarded by the Russians to prevent
the Nazis from using this consecrated place as a military HQ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Following World War II the restoration of these glorious
buildings picked up speed from the work that began after the 1917 revolution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many Russians believe that the opulence of
the Imperial period demonstrated the strength, superiority and </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIG2URaKn7HK3MMTV8Sj6wc6vt9-YCFLtwzVHaNy1Jsj1dkoMs4Sdjkkqg1Ms84pHeEsuWa5rAn5YoDh7rdllIzz6EkULMd4Dry6ya-kKjflkFgracZmNffAvLIjsE-yztuAharh8xFWD9/s1600/DSC_0170+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIG2URaKn7HK3MMTV8Sj6wc6vt9-YCFLtwzVHaNy1Jsj1dkoMs4Sdjkkqg1Ms84pHeEsuWa5rAn5YoDh7rdllIzz6EkULMd4Dry6ya-kKjflkFgracZmNffAvLIjsE-yztuAharh8xFWD9/s320/DSC_0170+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">dominance of
Russia. Whether it’s the gold and amber-lined walls of a sitting room in Tsarskoye
Selo or a bare-chested Prime Minister riding a horse bare-back, most Russians
like their leaders strong, their heritage rich and displayed loudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stalin and his advisors saw this as a
rallying cry for a badly wounded post-war Russia and took on an impressive
restoration that equals (maybe exceeds) the original construction (hey, who
doesn’t hate a “re-mo”).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It kept
up through the Cold War despite Russian leaders requiring everyone to grow food
in collectives – “just in case, you know”. It continued <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN7izPD4YQSWIz7uYrB3h7TpG8YtFTKbwZwVqYEmHr37l3Sqa-n2emw69jWBjT18EBLveWCjpFtqX-f0bcN3RVUo7-hXEz3OdjmnBwrWuOJI_UnOpHDRxFAbGVONwnIbYzxxfn9qfui8DU/s1600/IMG_1303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN7izPD4YQSWIz7uYrB3h7TpG8YtFTKbwZwVqYEmHr37l3Sqa-n2emw69jWBjT18EBLveWCjpFtqX-f0bcN3RVUo7-hXEz3OdjmnBwrWuOJI_UnOpHDRxFAbGVONwnIbYzxxfn9qfui8DU/s320/IMG_1303.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Dome at St. Isaac's<br />Catherdral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
through the waning days
of the socialist republic but stalled out during Perestroika – the time of
incredible economic hardship for the Russian economy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gorbachev – largely admired in the west for
his policies of openness and rebuilding - left a poor legacy among some
Russians as weakening that strong sense of national pride in a strong and rich
heritage and future. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">The restoration continues today giving the illusion of
Imperial elegance with cheaper contemporary material that gives the original
perhaps even more brilliance. “It’s a good and well-respected profession” fueled
by demand from the nouveaux riche in this new market economy who want the
Imperial Elegance within their own homes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">St. Petersburg is a hellava thing</span><br />
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Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-87699034192659679802013-09-24T09:31:00.000-07:002013-09-24T22:06:01.759-07:00St. Petersburg – First Impressions<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We arrived in St. Petersburg at about 8:45am, and through
minimal language, found a taxi driver, who was very nice, drove us in a
roundabout way to our hotel and charged us almost double of what it should have
cost.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh well.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NR8W9uLMgOPSqI8errlSU5yUd721mSdE8ASUnOgDX8BohN6PjtH-3jSiia5w186VtcaNS0ECKnYvPlLygx2-E8Wm3xeuogSIhnTJNFZmfaBdoBAr50zvUNa6WubvuBGIsJVHFaIrI0_S/s1600/IMG_1202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NR8W9uLMgOPSqI8errlSU5yUd721mSdE8ASUnOgDX8BohN6PjtH-3jSiia5w186VtcaNS0ECKnYvPlLygx2-E8Wm3xeuogSIhnTJNFZmfaBdoBAr50zvUNa6WubvuBGIsJVHFaIrI0_S/s200/IMG_1202.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ricky on the Balcony</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The hotel that Chris booked is lovely – small European-style
(why not, we’re in Europe now!) boutique hotel at a great location on a canal
(I had no idea St. Petersburg had so many canals!) and near the main drag,
Nevsky Prospekt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to wait a few
hours before a room was ready, so we grabbed a quick bite in the downstairs café
and headed out, like tourists, with maps in hand, to get a lay of the land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We're at 60 degrees North latitude - the highest we will get on land for this trip. </span><br />
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St. Petersburg shares this latitude with just a few other cities; Anchorage, Oslo. But it is the population king at 5 million people living in this inhospitable climate with just 60 days of sunshine each year. Cold temperatures and a cold, wet wind that blows and blows.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yet, we are blown away by this city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because Peter the Great wanted his capital to
compete with the cities of Europe, he hired European architects to design and
build the city from the ground up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As</span><br />
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a
result, with a string of canals running throughout, St. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another "Cathedral of the<br />
Spilt Blood"</td></tr>
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Petersburg looks like a
cross between Paris and Venice, dotted with minareted (is that a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">word?) Russian
Orthodox churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many road and pedestrian
bridges arch gracefully over the canals, reminiscent of the ponts over the
Seine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that beyond every corner
we turn, there is some incredible-looking edifice that was someone’s palace or
private art museum.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We returned to the hotel and checked into our room… For a
relatively small amount, we decided to upgrade, to give ourselves a break after
our cramped train compartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t
have a room up one level, so they jumped to two levels for the same price.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frankly, the room we got has probably not
been totally updated (although it has a great bathroom).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the 3 <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mother Ship</td></tr>
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rooms we are staying in are
collectively larger than our condo in Breck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main room has a very
elegant dining table that seats 10, an elaborate inlaid parquet floor (Chris
likes to slide across it in his slippers), grand piano, gothic Adams-family-esque
couch, with chairs, where even Chris could comfortably sleep, a porcelain tea
set, and a gargantuan chandelier descending from the ceiling like the mother
ship at the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is gilt molding on the doors, walls and
ceiling that are reminiscent (I’m not kidding) of the Grand Staircase in the
Hermitage, and we have the only balcony in the hotel - it overlooks a canal and
park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Note:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Hermitage is the winter palace complex
built by Peter the Great in the 1700s. The Grand Staircase is the one section
built in the Rococco style – gold on white, very ornate – THAT’s what our room
looks like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bedroom is much more
understated in its décor – thank God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The main alter in the Cathedral</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After
checking in, we ventured out again in the pursuit of food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the way, we visited an awesome church
called Cathedral of the Spilt Blood which was built on the spot where Czar
Alexander I was mortally wounded - the friggen EIGHTH attempt on his life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Incredibly imposing structure with large multi-colored minarets and an
interior that was pretty much marble on the floor and columns and mosaic of
religious icons that was so detailed, it looked like painting. Mosaics - because the tiles are heartier at the 60 degrees North climate than canvas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We wandered some more and found a wonderful Georgian
restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris has a knack<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caucasian Food</td></tr>
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for
finding great, out of the way places on the fly, and this was no
exception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The folks there were very
friendly to the drenched foreigners coming in out of the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>White table clothes, cozy atmosphere, and
great food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Georgians make a walnut
paste and stuff things with it or shape it into patties for appetizers, and
then they do wonderful things with beans and cabbage and a unique blend of
spices – I think one is fenugreek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris
had a delicious meat dish with an amazing tomato sauce (I had a taste without
the meat.).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a couple glasses of red
wine, it hit the spot. Great day.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-64741760693777834182013-09-23T12:05:00.001-07:002013-09-24T08:41:00.543-07:00Yekaterinburg - walking through the city<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn in Yekatrinburg<br />
the Cathedral of the Blood in the center</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We took off for a few-hour city hike of Yekaterinburg - a city known as the place the last Czar and his family were murdered, but one with a far richer past as an early selection for the Great Soviet Industrialization. It was actually closed to all foreigners until 1991.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We walked north over a wide
transit and vehicular bridge leaving the new government and industrial center
and over to the older cultural and religious center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ekaterinburg is a young city with young
couples, young singles and young families everywhere, dotted with the occasional lumbering old
large woman in a babushka and older men leaning on railings at bus stops smoking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral of the (Spilt) Blood</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We navigated down first to Voznesenski Cathedral – one
dismissed by the guide book but rich in history and active in use by the
locals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The murals inside had been
painted over during the soviet religious purges in the 1930’s but some have
been recreated and restored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
Russian Orthodox churches are different than European Catholic
churches; no altar really, and more the feeling of a Buddhist temple with icons
all around and prayers said at different stations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">Over to Cathedral on the Blood (many called it “Cathedral of
the Spilt Blood”) and first to the Romanov memorial; allegedly on the site where the Romanov family was killed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The memorial is inside a building that
contains the Chapel of St. Nicholas and displays icons of the Romanovs everywhere as
sacred martyrs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bought some local
items… looked at photographs and even a film of the Romanovs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">It’s Saturday, and the main Cathedral on the Blood chapel is on the
wedding tour. The bride and groom <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdhYmwAvmhL15T7fQDR1aj1mXigsNh7aWs1ZLr5lKvfN8JTDiM7SopxhoG0YJHy1t104A-ZNRFbFSWhfx5hAu_ed-Bg0jyAQ2vpd-McO7zdYLQkaOEuZQdN0gaISwt8mgpGhawtXYMkUJ/s1600/DSC_0066+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdhYmwAvmhL15T7fQDR1aj1mXigsNh7aWs1ZLr5lKvfN8JTDiM7SopxhoG0YJHy1t104A-ZNRFbFSWhfx5hAu_ed-Bg0jyAQ2vpd-McO7zdYLQkaOEuZQdN0gaISwt8mgpGhawtXYMkUJ/s200/DSC_0066+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Wedding Photo Tour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
travel with a small entourage of family and
friends and have their picture taken at key city locations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside the cathedral there are <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>icons and Romanov photographs. We walked into
an impromptu staged production with dramatic readings and singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ave Maria…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>the singers were getting up in years and their voices were beginning to
show the signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, though, they sounded beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mill Owners Mansion</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We wandered out to a dammed portion of the Iset River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All Russian river towns have dammed rivers
just upstream of a 19<sup>th</sup> century water powered mill; timber, steel,
ore processing, etc. The mill owner usually had an elegant house on the dammed
lake and gave generously to the local cathedral which was also nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are thousands of river mill towns across 18<sup>th</sup>
and 19<sup>th</sup> century Russia; a single spectacular mansion, a single mill
complex, a single spectacular cathedral, and the workers settlements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Today on the dammed Islet, a sailing regatta was underway. Times change.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Regatta on the Islet River</td></tr>
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</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We walked down the street to some impressive city administrative
buildings in search of the money changers! Something we've been doing on these stops between train segments. We were lucky to find an open bank changer
on a Saturday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She spent lots of time
looking at my passport, remarking on the places I had been “India!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>India!” and scolded me a little for not
knowing any Russian. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OK...just a nice picture</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We then met up with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">Konstantin Brylyakov, local and English speaker and
owner of Yekaterinburg Guides.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">Tall, lean, late forties, fast-talking, green orientation,
had his script of how things should be, fast walker, born and raised in Yekaterinburg…
knew his stuff and loved his city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">We were driving in some sort of Japanese wagon that he had equipped
with two tanks; one petrol and one CNG. He is proud of it and this c</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">ity is proud of favorite son Boris Yeltsin, proud of the past
accomplishments of being a city designated for the great Soviet
industrialization of the 1930s (and closed to all foreigners until 1991), proud of the Russian tanks manufactured here that were instrumental in the German defeat in World War II, proud of
having the best universities, the best airport, the best growth plan, the best
mix of people, the best, the best, the best of all of Russia! Konstantin </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">described the earliest colonial architectures
when Russian Cossacks came over the Urals to colonize the Tartars (Mongols), mixing agriculture with herding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next, the beginning of the 18<sup>th</sup>
century small houses with their ornate window jambs and shutters, the
industrialization phase of the 19<sup>th</sup> century – he sees the old
abandoned brick mills now as historically charming and nostalgic, this included
these ornate mansions of the rich industrialists and the cathedrals they
sponsored. The revolutionary style (Soviet) that lead quickly led to the neo-Stalinist
and “constructivist” architectures that were purpose-built to most effectively
progress needs of the state as given from top down direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ricky’s recollection:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soviet style called “constructivism”;
Stalinist architecture called Neo-classic.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">A great time in a very attractive city -- but we were ready to get outta Dodge and walk in the Ural Mountains!</span><br />
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Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-10916111735964944632013-09-23T11:37:00.001-07:002013-09-24T08:05:03.993-07:00Yekaterinburg - into the Ural Mountains<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the Dacha Community</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">The ride out of town gave us a good look at the dachas, in dense
communities of old small cottages where city apartment dwellers flocked on
weekends to connect with their agrarian past.
“Everyone is growing something and what they can’t use themselves, they
sell” - Konstantin. We saw selling on the highway too
– glass jars for canning, twigs for medicinal tea, canned stuff, extra potatoes,
mushrooms and berries and larger farmers goods too with fall harvests – beets, pumpkins,
vegetables and fruits in bigger quantities. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyEmmfRN4prrzQrA74lMe2z4LRP6nuvq7JS85yZ9Pey00DAwhBIhYTk8fNZg0m9zrIcv3zZaP2W5YncPZL3N9mS8G58kv7IQ5p0GMvN_aReq_n80WaTaiFXsrpzUC8oZfF-SwKaYrMYZZ/s1600/IMG_1061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyEmmfRN4prrzQrA74lMe2z4LRP6nuvq7JS85yZ9Pey00DAwhBIhYTk8fNZg0m9zrIcv3zZaP2W5YncPZL3N9mS8G58kv7IQ5p0GMvN_aReq_n80WaTaiFXsrpzUC8oZfF-SwKaYrMYZZ/s200/IMG_1061.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Examples of the great woodwork<br />
in the log architecture. this from<br />
the city</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">A stop at an old traditional wooden church – this for St. Alexis – the youngest and the heir to the Romanov chain. The religious purge that destroyed thousands of temples in Mongolia in the 1930s occurred in Russia too – religion seen as a useless and silly artifact of the past and a threat to putting all beliefs behind state goals. Few of the old churches remained. Beginning with Glasnost under Mikael Gorbachev religious tolerance returned but Russia is now only 15%-18% religious beliefs. Most are agnostics. We were impressed by the Russian Orthodox minarets and filigree combined with the log architecture. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">The dacha house is a pretty simple affair - except for the elaborate carving on the wooden window frames. Stunning!</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking Berries</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Trailhead</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Up to a little village that was the birthplace of Russia’s
beloved children’s’ storyteller and novelist: (we’ll get his name later) More
lovely dachas and great to see Russians enjoying a Saturday. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">We hit the trailhead for a five-mile hike into the Urals –
they are low in elevation at this point but still very rewarding with lots of
Siberian pines (tall, straight as an arrow lodge pole pine-like with needled branches only at the top of the canopy. We looked at massive beaver dams and
picked up trash along the way “from the children”.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Old Quarry</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">We did some wild berry harvesting, a Russian-only berry that
grows on a bush but tastes like a cranberry; indeed later on the next train segment
we saw plenty of people selling buckets of these berries on the platforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We investigated the old soapstone and talc
quarry now filled with groundwater, lunched late at a great spot filled with
locals <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiipTRX7S7c6m4Olxv2wIglEXO8QZBc_5HH5w7eZHqE2fCiZijz9ws-WZ9rY569xZCw51s3w82L40NqrSW4ipJifzgaTpD-oiztjxH5GBavC9J8Ygy0OEbPggDO4cL_xo4406bXXji-AF/s1600/IMG_1079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiipTRX7S7c6m4Olxv2wIglEXO8QZBc_5HH5w7eZHqE2fCiZijz9ws-WZ9rY569xZCw51s3w82L40NqrSW4ipJifzgaTpD-oiztjxH5GBavC9J8Ygy0OEbPggDO4cL_xo4406bXXji-AF/s320/IMG_1079.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflecting the Aspens, Birch and Siberian Pine</td></tr>
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simply enjoying themselves, the last warmth (54F) of summer with their
families and their dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of women
line dancing, men and boys with soccer balls, picnics, laughing, a few dogs
playing and camaraderie under the tall pines and the aspens with family and
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The park ranger came up as he
does with some guests and groups, was smiling and gracious in Russian, bid us
“Dosvydania” and went to the next group (who shared their napkins with us).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We needed this – although packed with people
– it was a great hike, got the heart pumping with some modest climbs, but most importantly
filled me with warmth about the Russians that I thought was not there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nowhere to be seen were the “Icy Ivans” that
are so generalized everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
warm, happy, engaging people who love their families. No pictures of this - these families were not a tourist attraction.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">A beeline back after extending a hand to a very nervous
mother who lost two young teenage boys by giving her a ride to local
authorities (the boys were found while we were enroute. The mother was left on
the roadside crying happily as her party came to pick her up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve seem mothers like this behave everywhere).<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Back in the city we asked Konstantin to drop us at a local
market so we could buy some train fare beyond just the noodles and dehydrated
potatoes that were a staple on our last train leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took us to a massive new retail center
with a huge supermarket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bought pickled
salads, vegetable dishes, cheese, crackers, Swiss chocolate and …. Russian
Standard Vodka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite a haul.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">We paid for a full night at the Hyatt even though we were
not staying there just to have access to a shower, the internet, packing area,
laundry, the Hyatt Regency club… pricey,
but worth it. We enjoyed a light snack
and dessert for a temporary anniversary dinner with a few glasses of Prosecca,
checked out, Jaguared back to the train station, lumbered to our platform, role-reversed, and settled into our best berth yet for the 36-hour train journey to
St. Petersburg. </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-7856277392816998702013-09-20T11:33:00.003-07:002013-09-20T11:33:37.443-07:00Camping out on a long train<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBaml6784nSMuo1hxUmAdReVPT3C7COmCqgyXIhhsgIjoq-1WSe9RUD14pvTq342-u-19i173ESojkBi9IvCcLm1tHbjomqjbWiWPLlfqwfSyjoTWkjlCSN5ehma3WA13dDGxcpNPHXiy/s1600/IMG_1045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBaml6784nSMuo1hxUmAdReVPT3C7COmCqgyXIhhsgIjoq-1WSe9RUD14pvTq342-u-19i173ESojkBi9IvCcLm1tHbjomqjbWiWPLlfqwfSyjoTWkjlCSN5ehma3WA13dDGxcpNPHXiy/s200/IMG_1045.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Food Routine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Today (9/19) is the first uninterrupted day of travel on the
Trans-Siberian Railway (actually, it will be about 3 days on this leg), in
terms of sleeping on the train the night before, experiencing a day without
border delays, and looking forward to a second night on board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The train departed Irkutsk the evening of
September 18 at about 6:30pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
lugging our bags and a large sack of groceries through the station, up and down
stairs (these stations don’t have escalators, unfortunately), we joyfully found
our compartment and settled in, after receiving fresh sheets, pillow cases and
towels from the porter (the provodnista).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In our second-class <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjY1f7MZkXhaJbqxN4kL3HRRyfrRZNL-YcbrRG7hcEyC77ZEEJQFHXxog7T4mCnExlMMSExFQosfHm2JvCVgcHJMiC0gloQc2hSV38BDefqDXPSJHofpElPNF5UWlVA0tascr9eZ0byJ_R/s1600/IMG_1036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjY1f7MZkXhaJbqxN4kL3HRRyfrRZNL-YcbrRG7hcEyC77ZEEJQFHXxog7T4mCnExlMMSExFQosfHm2JvCVgcHJMiC0gloQc2hSV38BDefqDXPSJHofpElPNF5UWlVA0tascr9eZ0byJ_R/s200/IMG_1036.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubba Blending on the<br />Platform during a stop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
compartment, there are 4 berths, so our routine has
been to sleep in the upper bunks and lounge on the lower bunks, sitting mostly
at the small table by the window for eating, reading, writing, lounging,
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">This train has no dining car, so we had to scour the markets
around the Irkutsk train station for 3 dinners and 2 lunches-worth of food that
could be prepared by adding hot water from the train carriage’s samovar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learned that the best bet for a hot meal
on board is an Asian version of Cup O’ Noodles - same kind of packaging, but
with Chinese, Mongolian or Russian text on the outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eG-8CLKpfWvea9d-6RZpx0dhAloVJp1kS-xVpSmFsEbyBX7qg5K-qhJfFUEGDFtzkXbfb-4sKGT7sAgu7VZiaT0Z9zqYR7keTFm6xAXSaIJJJJY-0Xprmzlgql-sLkfxfWm7c-lZbXX7/s1600/IMG_1048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eG-8CLKpfWvea9d-6RZpx0dhAloVJp1kS-xVpSmFsEbyBX7qg5K-qhJfFUEGDFtzkXbfb-4sKGT7sAgu7VZiaT0Z9zqYR7keTFm6xAXSaIJJJJY-0Xprmzlgql-sLkfxfWm7c-lZbXX7/s200/IMG_1048.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Restocking after unknowingly buying<br /> too many dehydrated potato 'meals"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
we’ve had to trust the
pictures on the Styrofoam bowl, and once or twice, we ended up with mashed
potatoes instead of noodles, or meat instead of veggies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I’ve had to relax my dietary guidelines as a
result.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So breakfast has been
essentially a Cliff Bar (I brought a bag from the US), dried fruit and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyihQlHkhzc5scVJu2Lx6Ltw1WCbjB8C0XtpXaMRbXnWkYsqDl702bA2xROFz2T99v9473q3NmGG0gHqFuysQKl8kfEHj0ajaY-l0L-McrJefU2ILPINxUQLM3zNtCN8TMHc2MxXxtX7Cj/s1600/IMG_1044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyihQlHkhzc5scVJu2Lx6Ltw1WCbjB8C0XtpXaMRbXnWkYsqDl702bA2xROFz2T99v9473q3NmGG0gHqFuysQKl8kfEHj0ajaY-l0L-McrJefU2ILPINxUQLM3zNtCN8TMHc2MxXxtX7Cj/s200/IMG_1044.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">after a food run</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
tea;
lunch today was a bowl of ramen noodles each, and half a candy bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll have salted peanuts for cocktail hour
with some good Russian vodka, and dinner will be another noodle bowl or a meat
thing for Chris and mashed potatoes for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I shudder to think of the chemicals and preservatives we’re consuming,
but there isn’t a better solution for a hot meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last leg from Yekaterinburg to St.
Petersburg, we think, we’ll have a dining car and tomorrow night we’re in a
Hyatt in Yekaterinburg, so we’ll have a good meal (and a shower!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, we are enjoying the time
camping out in our compartment, watching Siberia go by.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-5165414810050106462013-09-20T11:24:00.001-07:002013-09-20T11:24:53.863-07:00Transversing Siberia<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1Jnm4uv6-VRmcpCPmIzmMgcYBCDV2Qk5bodNsA5Fkg0rcfbYPhqOkmlHTkdHITzUkL19s1Wzzm94IQIysqAm-3IA5ycO75rApNl_jmkzdc4pmCxTs5QPe43tYTdxk7RoOmpyU1gAfbJ4/s1600/IMG_1016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1Jnm4uv6-VRmcpCPmIzmMgcYBCDV2Qk5bodNsA5Fkg0rcfbYPhqOkmlHTkdHITzUkL19s1Wzzm94IQIysqAm-3IA5ycO75rApNl_jmkzdc4pmCxTs5QPe43tYTdxk7RoOmpyU1gAfbJ4/s200/IMG_1016.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irkutsk Railway Station</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">The section of the Trans-Siberian Railway across Siberia from
Irkutsk, in central Siberia, to Yekaterinburg, just west of the Siberian border
took 55 hours and covered about 3400 kilometers (2200 miles) and dozens of
stops in towns and cities big and small. Our carriage originated an additional
2200 miles to the east in Blagoveshchenk, a remote Chinese<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghcnawZ01aiPozWbSFw8r_0kZq0zjnh_W71aEBcKJgLQvqffQ8rQdu7E3L0DYiRxTs4yeaoSPtuqM42zv7yKeNKPv6LsVcxMWrQKiYP9SnPnnW1qUPgQxVJfJAocIU3n-ro7yjD8j-T9GM/s1600/IMG_1017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghcnawZ01aiPozWbSFw8r_0kZq0zjnh_W71aEBcKJgLQvqffQ8rQdu7E3L0DYiRxTs4yeaoSPtuqM42zv7yKeNKPv6LsVcxMWrQKiYP9SnPnnW1qUPgQxVJfJAocIU3n-ro7yjD8j-T9GM/s200/IMG_1017.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging in the cabin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
border town and our
window shows the length of the journey with the dirt on it. We’ve been in or
just outside our cozy Cabin VI on Carriage 3 that entire time and have had lots
of time with our faces staring out the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rather than seeing wasted plains that we expected, we’ve observed a rich
landscape dominated by rolling hills in the east and extended steppes in the
west with the brilliant fall colors of aspens and birch for the entire
duration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve seen small towns with
small houses and gardens growing some of the biggest vegetables in the richest
of blackest soil. We’ve seen rivers running from the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjK6T8buqyrdRLGtpj0SeMrBVh2jdZStZNp-bLdO2FS79nk-_ftad6JYsiroCMp58QReegtBa-V1Yy7EuuXhVbbFMV-E1fUcUFWII9iwpb6jSf46ltTjwxvKqQzbHG5UlJoWCJTejKECI/s1600/IMG_1051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjK6T8buqyrdRLGtpj0SeMrBVh2jdZStZNp-bLdO2FS79nk-_ftad6JYsiroCMp58QReegtBa-V1Yy7EuuXhVbbFMV-E1fUcUFWII9iwpb6jSf46ltTjwxvKqQzbHG5UlJoWCJTejKECI/s200/IMG_1051.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the Tomsk River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
north still carrying a lot
of water. We’ve seen railway towns, many apparently in existence when the
railway was first being built in 1895 and during the century before it as a
waystation on the Siberian Post Road that have gone from boom to bust as the increasing
speed of the engines have left them behind for the larger communities. We’ve
seen buildings that may have begun with the Tsars, continued into the early
days of the Revolution, and then into the Stalinist and Soviet days through today’s
Russian republic. They might have been in favor for one of two of those eras,
but not for all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve seen plenty of
train <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3arHg3x4gcXT9oWHt_Pm8lObKALfQ2ME1WFHZ8sEBnSHyOP2N9-_aoybRW0TFnqetOKDJMMO6D0HWFyhZ0zv-GKylNE6qTQRh2K3dEZ7xYTvrG1RZTyjVPN7dmqVfRXMbJokmulZ_rshp/s1600/IMG_1021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3arHg3x4gcXT9oWHt_Pm8lObKALfQ2ME1WFHZ8sEBnSHyOP2N9-_aoybRW0TFnqetOKDJMMO6D0HWFyhZ0zv-GKylNE6qTQRh2K3dEZ7xYTvrG1RZTyjVPN7dmqVfRXMbJokmulZ_rshp/s200/IMG_1021.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surface Coal Mining <br />
lasting a few Russian Eras</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
stations that exhibit structures with fresh coats of bright turquoise or
salmon pastels and at the same time, include an ominous-looking windowless brick
turret tower, probably abandoned when radio and electronic communication replaced
the sentries positioned there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve observed
train travelers being sent off by their teary-eyed relatives, hawkers selling
homemade food and packaged concoctions from the platforms, and train workers
with long metal mallets mysteriously banging at things on our train’s undercarriage
while in the station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve seen our
carriage mates in the other eight cabins on Carriage 3 change frequently; from
workers moving around the Siberian coal fields, to businessmen on mobile phones
to young families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And unlike the
previous two segments on the Trans- Mongolian railway, we have seen no
Americans and only one other English speaker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">We experienced thick low grey clouds and spotty sprinkles of
autumn as we started in Irkutsk. And, oddly, just as we passed the area where
we were “officially” out of Siberia, the clouds broke and we were treated to a
gorgeous sunset over the plains. Just in time for our anniversary!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-44839426706671831752013-09-17T19:19:00.002-07:002013-09-17T19:19:14.444-07:00the Long Way home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvghjNAxbFVhtjOtVDFbcHx7AgzgJCn-UWkDon-PoUPj3ov1V63g6dJa8VoJeDqT67c1DybQC6Ow6fZWQyED8-cN6WzRcet-WTOjwaVh5Nu_MfpMgrDJLP4M_oFTa1LJdRzGHoaixX3ijj/s1600/trip+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvghjNAxbFVhtjOtVDFbcHx7AgzgJCn-UWkDon-PoUPj3ov1V63g6dJa8VoJeDqT67c1DybQC6Ow6fZWQyED8-cN6WzRcet-WTOjwaVh5Nu_MfpMgrDJLP4M_oFTa1LJdRzGHoaixX3ijj/s400/trip+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hey, Folks! I tried to insert a map way back when we started the trip, and it didn't seem to show up. This is a smaller file, so hopefully it will work. This map depicts our journey from Singapore to Stockholm and off the map to the US. We are a bit more than half-way home!</span>Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-18452610248188863302013-09-17T19:14:00.002-07:002013-09-18T00:16:31.908-07:00Lake Baikal – 50 miles wide, 400 miles long and a mile deep!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY7_vVkGB8lu8kH2ELCcJkiFPTqSXum1UA3QylvTQnsJu-oJM7SJuRt8_GogGppZL6eMx_suWLN6lETJ2zJEG3oAHPy8GvTMNpkFy4PstmSPr2yU_bFaSJHt-A2LKGBtLGUL8lhepDfR6/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGY7_vVkGB8lu8kH2ELCcJkiFPTqSXum1UA3QylvTQnsJu-oJM7SJuRt8_GogGppZL6eMx_suWLN6lETJ2zJEG3oAHPy8GvTMNpkFy4PstmSPr2yU_bFaSJHt-A2LKGBtLGUL8lhepDfR6/s200/IMG_0983.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Aspens are turning in Siberia!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Irkutsk was our first railroad stop in Russia, and we had
the good sense to book a hotel in Listvyanka, a small picturesque village on
Lake Baikal, where the lake’s water flows out the Angara River, the only
outbound river on the lake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rainy,
moody day of our arrival broke to overcast with grey humid clouds hanging in
the valleys with spots of blue sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the distance, we could see the snow-capped peaks of the Khamar-Daban Mountains on
the southwest side of the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long,
long ridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this wasn’t new snow
from the rains, but snow that keeps winter to winter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISbAzZh1StjnQf5EpWpPLDwUeLevs8MLGa5OwGv75Vg2RM8P9AjKxhvHeCuxuIrIYYsJPt-isCp9XnQj6rnsjxo2-HK2sy0YDpLLxkCXTKmTQiCFsrgCJZU8byuy48vS1N1veSwo84gEn/s1600/IMG_0968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISbAzZh1StjnQf5EpWpPLDwUeLevs8MLGa5OwGv75Vg2RM8P9AjKxhvHeCuxuIrIYYsJPt-isCp9XnQj6rnsjxo2-HK2sy0YDpLLxkCXTKmTQiCFsrgCJZU8byuy48vS1N1veSwo84gEn/s200/IMG_0968.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monster Cabbage in Nicola</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We hiked to the village center we saw in the
distance up the river – only to discover that I (chris) was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This muddy dismal port town was Nicola.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, there were a few homes with
fresh blue-painted shutters and windows filled from inside with flowering
geraniums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this place of extreme
temperatures knows how to garden too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nicola, the less-favored of the ‘charming villages’ on the lake is home
to some monster cabbage plants and nearly everyone has a greenhouse to extend
the growing season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found a tour bus
leaving a restaurant (our new technique for restaurant <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our evening
brought continued clearing and a brilliant sunset that made the most of the
remaining clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We enjoyed the show
with some more local vodka (another new favored technique). <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmuocppiag4iJyOSbnyAmQlQzTQfzPoSo3zW7YXD7jQwhkYj2MMfQh7TlKG69JpNsXgGJeWhf6_X3-Ue-HHXjasxffWYsS5y_nMLGXMjGcqJEv-sh2XS5PfBA_sd3ndG_5J84GF8TsBQ5/s1600/IMG_0977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmuocppiag4iJyOSbnyAmQlQzTQfzPoSo3zW7YXD7jQwhkYj2MMfQh7TlKG69JpNsXgGJeWhf6_X3-Ue-HHXjasxffWYsS5y_nMLGXMjGcqJEv-sh2XS5PfBA_sd3ndG_5J84GF8TsBQ5/s320/IMG_0977.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">across the Angara as it enters the Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
recommendations with
some possibility of English usage) and had our first taste of Omul, a fish
native only to the lake. It turns out that there are lots of animals native
only to this lake including the fresh water snow seal – hunted ferociously for
centuries but now protected.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day, we walked the opposite direction from the
hotel down the main road, and found the village center we had been looking
for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listvyanka turned out to be small,
quaint, yet bustling with activity along the waterfront.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travelers wandered up and down the main
street and waited on the docks for the ferries going back and forth, between
Listvyanka and ports miles away on the Lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We sat on a bench and had an impromptu chat with an Australian
squeeze-box-playing tourist looking for a ferry with his Chinese friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm8YkWsLmXqUkLQ031ca6eMpe8M5toxj_mKJwXQPo9Zt0ZhSWYy0MvcAbpOL7Mk-0glMJGeEvcNpeuc8kjldWtel59CpdU480cNAND9u8MJD36IIpGQflCPs8se4TD1B5CSa2md-p9w_v/s1600/IMG_0994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcm8YkWsLmXqUkLQ031ca6eMpe8M5toxj_mKJwXQPo9Zt0ZhSWYy0MvcAbpOL7Mk-0glMJGeEvcNpeuc8kjldWtel59CpdU480cNAND9u8MJD36IIpGQflCPs8se4TD1B5CSa2md-p9w_v/s200/IMG_0994.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School's Out! Boys in searsucker suits<br />
(no relation to the snow seals)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We bypassed the souvenir vendors and found a highly-recommended
café – Proshily’s Café – or at least we think we found it – all signs are in
the Russian Cyrillic alphabet here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CFrpa14cT48p0NVqMQb1UP-KDW9RJOQOEwOukMev0GoONN5kQxycF9E41Ya1x3u9ht-hce4WOpYjYDArKpDNZYeE6Fe8Zx5cWM8cqkRawclYKPOWtmHeLOXmWDgJw1OjzvcFeS4uzqpo/s1600/IMG_1000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CFrpa14cT48p0NVqMQb1UP-KDW9RJOQOEwOukMev0GoONN5kQxycF9E41Ya1x3u9ht-hce4WOpYjYDArKpDNZYeE6Fe8Zx5cWM8cqkRawclYKPOWtmHeLOXmWDgJw1OjzvcFeS4uzqpo/s200/IMG_1000.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proshily's Cafe! (we think)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>Had
a delicious meal, anyway – two different kinds of local fish, Omul and Sig, a white
fish, and vegetables, both grilled to perfection. Our hiking continued up to a
ski area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One (really slow) lift, five
runs, a base area that reminded me of Geneva Basin in the late 70’s (except not
as nice).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTSGSMYsYPiElPKTu55NMfE_0_3zXRrorDYlvx36COAXtHO7C8hvKnq7Vy6iMhPnT_zvqS-X0zOjAac65mfVPNO4LDmbXXV3cZFlmSPKLomGs9hdQBJg_d-HJ0aOdGMRjlGdw6vxJpN5B/s1600/IMG_1001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTSGSMYsYPiElPKTu55NMfE_0_3zXRrorDYlvx36COAXtHO7C8hvKnq7Vy6iMhPnT_zvqS-X0zOjAac65mfVPNO4LDmbXXV3cZFlmSPKLomGs9hdQBJg_d-HJ0aOdGMRjlGdw6vxJpN5B/s200/IMG_1001.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">an old worn out ski area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We pondered if they had a
Guest Services squad and if there could possibly be any colder ski area where
the average here in the winter in -25F. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the evening, we enjoyed another spectacular sunset show over the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a nice introduction to Siberia, in
spite of the dourness of the locals (“Icy Ivans” as they are called). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they know something we don’ know? We keep
doing drive-bys of the news to see the status of Syria to determine if our Yank
passports are the problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, a
lovely town, excellent food, gorgeous, big beautiful, epic lake surrounded by
snow-capped peaks and glaciers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could
be better?</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-8381382270128359462013-09-15T20:24:00.000-07:002013-09-15T20:24:08.392-07:00Ulan Bator to Irkutsk on the Trans Mongolian railway<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3vahFwFzu3X_c6EyAweOfmNaSoz9qUO_DC0lO01uk6Lx4MxQYZmBXAdEIIUBjAb93OAhc1JUm5B2uG1h2Xi3TICOji393z7uyHElRtf_jNE7M1a5y5GagBD0FBqjnUpEYMPhTHRK7Ohf/s1600/IMG_0933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3vahFwFzu3X_c6EyAweOfmNaSoz9qUO_DC0lO01uk6Lx4MxQYZmBXAdEIIUBjAb93OAhc1JUm5B2uG1h2Xi3TICOji393z7uyHElRtf_jNE7M1a5y5GagBD0FBqjnUpEYMPhTHRK7Ohf/s200/IMG_0933.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our abandoned carriage<br />and some happy dogs<br />at Suhbaatar, Mongolia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">“Miles and Miles of Miles and Miles”, “ Actually, I got
kinda bored”, “Nothing and Nothing and Nothing”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are some quotes out of TripAdvisor on
the Trans Siberian and Trans Mongolian lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ricky and I are on our second rail leg of the trip and the last on the
Trans Mongolian route; one that follows the path of the tea caravans from
Peking to Europe in the 14<sup>th</sup> Century. Just over a 1,000 slow-moving
miles over three days and two nights from the capital of Mongolia to what has
been called the “Paris of Eastern Siberia”, Irkutsk, in the Russian Republic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I suppose you could call Commerce City, CO,
the “Paris of the Northeast Denver Metro Area and get away with it too.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Sure, those emotions of vastness and loneliness may arise,
but not quite yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just can’t stop
looking out the windows – the scenery is so varied and at times, stunning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2uZrg3e0i_mB1xNNAGvHlIunL1WCJ88hlJcbS5iu_rD5BY3SZYBZhQ5L-knRxW9ZAIrb5Ew8ay3dvnRl0o_pWQ0Od1PVyf7jG0kxE8kbwNkVzkWSUV0Aq1jFJIz3nbwiTmwmYtOoOD57/s1600/IMG_0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2uZrg3e0i_mB1xNNAGvHlIunL1WCJ88hlJcbS5iu_rD5BY3SZYBZhQ5L-knRxW9ZAIrb5Ew8ay3dvnRl0o_pWQ0Od1PVyf7jG0kxE8kbwNkVzkWSUV0Aq1jFJIz3nbwiTmwmYtOoOD57/s200/IMG_0938.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Using the delay to find some fine<br />Russian vodka at Naushki, the<br />Russian border post.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Boarding the train in Ulan Bator late the evening of the 14th was a trip in itself. The old and gritty station was packed with travelers of all shapes and sizes, the garbled announcements were in Mongolian only, just one tiny convenience store was open, and we had no clue where to pick up our train. After some exploration, Chris finally learned our track from a hassled ticket agent in a different building from the waiting area. In broken English, she repeatedly warned Chris to stay close to our gear, as people like us were sitting ducks for thieves. And, indeed, as we moved toward our train, a shifty-looking guy carrying a plastic shopping bag followed us from the waiting room, and then pivoted and disappeared as soon as we walked toward a policeman. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZOaz2_lKj69ai23ngFq41Yg4FCMNKBOzDBvsOkQu_-_wNPXDHhF6OnI0wvfcoxkbGTJ4pyf8_lYE0yqKbmeKkIh19EK2Dsk-oB-sJ0L6d0jHI32TfE5UqeB1dYyzP1X9mLJOqUxw0VRa/s1600/IMG_0936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZOaz2_lKj69ai23ngFq41Yg4FCMNKBOzDBvsOkQu_-_wNPXDHhF6OnI0wvfcoxkbGTJ4pyf8_lYE0yqKbmeKkIh19EK2Dsk-oB-sJ0L6d0jHI32TfE5UqeB1dYyzP1X9mLJOqUxw0VRa/s200/IMG_0936.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tail End of the Russian<br />Special Customs Agent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">After boarding, we fell asleep in our compartment to the vibrations of the moving train and awoke in a Mongolian border town, stopped. Since we were at a station, the train's WC couldn't be used, so I wandered off the train to find one. Looking back, I saw that our car was standing alone on the track - the back end of the train was pulling away, and there was no engine. We were told to expect this, that the Mongolian engine would take off, and a Russian locomotive would take its place. So, after several hours, including a Mongolian customs process, we pulled away. Then it seems the process was repeated again in a Russian border town. The entire engine-change-immigration-inspection-customs process took about seven hours, including two separate instances where our compartments and luggage were sniffed by dogs. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">At least we were allowed, most of the time, to get out and look around while this was going on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvB7mAUz6M5bbu1quG9p9QJJJVLweunjnUyP0S1PLh5dtid80SFfawsA1wXLL75D4fuuR2l1IJqeiDI_y5gzNh5Y6ffXBxjO-grrbufCcr4uZ2_sXZlcFhyphenhyphenskt5XlCxTI62R6XC5TuWuS/s1600/IMG_0950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvB7mAUz6M5bbu1quG9p9QJJJVLweunjnUyP0S1PLh5dtid80SFfawsA1wXLL75D4fuuR2l1IJqeiDI_y5gzNh5Y6ffXBxjO-grrbufCcr4uZ2_sXZlcFhyphenhyphenskt5XlCxTI62R6XC5TuWuS/s200/IMG_0950.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gusinoye Ozero (Goose Lake)<br />along the Selenga River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Today, we’re following the Selenga River for most of this leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A huge river about the size of the Missouri
River at Omaha, with its headwaters in Mongolia,
its normal peak flows are this time of year. The Selenga runs into Lake Baikal, the
largest freshwater lake in the world and our next destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
rivers that drain into this lake are among the small handful in the world that
don’t empty into a sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along the way
there are natural lakes, some big and some huge, with deep blue water, surrounded by autumn colors dominated by a golden wheat against
a huge blue sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">This is also the land of the Buryat civilization of a long time ago and the blue of the water must hold some <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSfeWzKK7KvpJVuzqT15cqmKy64gDAsl2sn-GhvibHtbixg3FXo6i-eAsSAykit69aBoicjirM0iu49BrChdz27loV5POpdKE_KKr-_-NAIpqm0F8Avdm59PjTZ_k81jOGTiiH4gy7Tv3/s1600/IMG_0952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSfeWzKK7KvpJVuzqT15cqmKy64gDAsl2sn-GhvibHtbixg3FXo6i-eAsSAykit69aBoicjirM0iu49BrChdz27loV5POpdKE_KKr-_-NAIpqm0F8Avdm59PjTZ_k81jOGTiiH4gy7Tv3/s200/IMG_0952.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue and white everywhere even in this old beat up coal town Zagustay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
significance for that culture or for the current locals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lampposts, manhole covers, the bottom of power poles are all freshly
painted in the lake blue bordered by white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The roughest looking house will have the freshest blue paint on the
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We see that blue at all the stops
along the way, along with a good collection of dogs, some young adults using
the arriving trains as the center of the towns’ social life, and some scenes
unique to the Russian frontier – old women harvesting their back yard gardens,
older men at construction sites grabbing some discarded material maybe to help
get through the harsh “continental” winter to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Funny use of that word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A “continental” breakfast is light and easy;
a “continental” weather pattern is apparently harsh and unforgiving.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">And we listen to the sounds of the journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, we thought we heard a string and reed orchestra as we pulled into a small town siding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out these eerily-resonating harmonies were caused as the steel wheels <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3bHI8QPn3v5grLeirQNrQsz3itsw8RgQIfJOwLCD4wRYtcKnMPqPh7OPn7C3O0Zt7_SV9S_zF8st_KVCqnnTU7r713dLTbdt5eCr6tlwZJVAqiJuEhvzNd6PUD7yal0bXn14euGn2f1e/s1600/IMG_0927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3bHI8QPn3v5grLeirQNrQsz3itsw8RgQIfJOwLCD4wRYtcKnMPqPh7OPn7C3O0Zt7_SV9S_zF8st_KVCqnnTU7r713dLTbdt5eCr6tlwZJVAqiJuEhvzNd6PUD7yal0bXn14euGn2f1e/s200/IMG_0927.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This berth built for four!<br />Not this time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
strained against one set of tracks and rolled onto the next. The sound of dead quiet as the train then begins to
move again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The European-style train
whistles, the sounds of the other passengers passing time with travel stories
in a half dozen languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sounds of
the Russian carriage steward yelling at Ricky for rinsing her noodles down the samovar drain, and at me for splashing water onto the floor from the samovar, and then
hearing the sweetest tones when she stopped to sell us some of her train
treats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6OyA8M1-oQBasmQLtwDoxFLTPuV20-fOtQzM0dYVUMZBEtkwUKq9uHtet88O3VD2_WxOZAeMnQqlWGJBuBDxB-YDARCO4RIhoyYcQdLnf_eOcMo7yjQdFT6wylkqeY-86j4f5D4av_I5/s1600/IMG_0960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio6OyA8M1-oQBasmQLtwDoxFLTPuV20-fOtQzM0dYVUMZBEtkwUKq9uHtet88O3VD2_WxOZAeMnQqlWGJBuBDxB-YDARCO4RIhoyYcQdLnf_eOcMo7yjQdFT6wylkqeY-86j4f5D4av_I5/s200/IMG_0960.JPG" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Now, a rainy, moody day in Listvyanka, on the shores of
Baikal. Hope it clears soon. It looks like fresh snow on the mountains to the north!</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-8532947965391083122013-09-13T19:39:00.000-07:002013-09-13T19:39:01.656-07:00Three unforgettable days in the Gobi<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpgF5irzTxIqI9F5qoN47O5ZSKXN4e-fl_huRWPrigQDzBE32qeZw6ex6esC9ucqD09yVoP6Tv4ThPcB0_Zxvla2L2UkrZlV52PmeX26YJwl3YPpuYVC647Ep-q9aiA2R464GF3uq88-Z/s1600/IMG_0733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpgF5irzTxIqI9F5qoN47O5ZSKXN4e-fl_huRWPrigQDzBE32qeZw6ex6esC9ucqD09yVoP6Tv4ThPcB0_Zxvla2L2UkrZlV52PmeX26YJwl3YPpuYVC647Ep-q9aiA2R464GF3uq88-Z/s320/IMG_0733.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sea of Grass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">The morning of September 9, we headed to the Southern part
of the Gobi, via unsigned dirt track, where the dramatic landscape gradually
evolved from green steppe to golden steppe to an area punctuated by rocky sand
dunes, if that makes sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">We saw our
first free-grazing herd of Bactrian camels (two humps), gentle bizarre-looking
critters, curious of us as we were of them, and enjoyed our first view of the
Southern end of the Altai Mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7utwcrcYU85SYX6ukTN-YGaAGfW5c-nqtQ_zyfX-To1YBW-c9XtUqrU4QrLpBdWLzJtgcWhAtWovaXBQhazDol0u30CWolu_fEc56wbmgCj3ACn6QpqutxgoPGfCmFs3DhHCJcv2mIBSa/s1600/DSC_0280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7utwcrcYU85SYX6ukTN-YGaAGfW5c-nqtQ_zyfX-To1YBW-c9XtUqrU4QrLpBdWLzJtgcWhAtWovaXBQhazDol0u30CWolu_fEc56wbmgCj3ACn6QpqutxgoPGfCmFs3DhHCJcv2mIBSa/s200/DSC_0280.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A constant sight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>They reminded us of a rugged version of the Sangre de Christos – dark grey,
brooding mountains with gold, dry grasses in the foreground.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_HwCjn_WPY2VHrxMhXQ0z3JRxv0C6VA9EsKociUaWGclJ0piyy2MwcEVrZA48o3l0bt754wo9AJUN-so1u3m8kK3mKvJtsppjFo00N-QuztV6bJtBhs8w8zpLu6-UJVQ25vXWgAyk5HF/s1600/IMG_0877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_HwCjn_WPY2VHrxMhXQ0z3JRxv0C6VA9EsKociUaWGclJ0piyy2MwcEVrZA48o3l0bt754wo9AJUN-so1u3m8kK3mKvJtsppjFo00N-QuztV6bJtBhs8w8zpLu6-UJVQ25vXWgAyk5HF/s200/IMG_0877.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the deck of the Lodge </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">By lunch time, we arrived at Three Camel Lodge, where we
stayed 3 nights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a gorgeous ger
camp, with the main buildings beautifully built with native stone, wood beams
and Mongolian-style molded roofing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our "deluxe ger"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">, on the edge of the camp, had a smaller ger attached with a
stone-tiled bathroom; and sitting out front on the stone base of the ger, we
had an unobstructed view of the Gobi and the Altais.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JySL0jyT96g1LGa-3hhc5uSXS23jneNM3Dy4NWGUXlCDm7IkSupnQIuVHhNlQx5Qt-OzKIx8ZzgzQnmhG3NyjrYLrCuYH8H5f3RnLwICrWOuCOS1YlOHX9It6O2WQktUj7RRf2XDEPUC/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JySL0jyT96g1LGa-3hhc5uSXS23jneNM3Dy4NWGUXlCDm7IkSupnQIuVHhNlQx5Qt-OzKIx8ZzgzQnmhG3NyjrYLrCuYH8H5f3RnLwICrWOuCOS1YlOHX9It6O2WQktUj7RRf2XDEPUC/s200/IMG_0709.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">Our first morning at the lodge was relaxed – nothing planned
except to enjoy our beautiful surroundings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Herds of horses and goats were taking turns at the nearby water trough,
so we wandered out a ways in front of the lodge to hang out with them and their
dogs, and a few herders, one on foot, another in traditional garb on a horse,
and a third, the goat herder, on a motorbike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_9bLoP7ouzbeiqDSmSSMgllJU-MEnir1K50Py0pEKFjIeZbHjA8A9shUWpxYma0kDAR8-SOYrMyMaRg0gqFOwB3vLahf9S7JXLJ1Df81AZsTV7p1-cBs6bZEfPdp_XrG-6dV-MbWuc6r/s1600/IMG_0769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_9bLoP7ouzbeiqDSmSSMgllJU-MEnir1K50Py0pEKFjIeZbHjA8A9shUWpxYma0kDAR8-SOYrMyMaRg0gqFOwB3vLahf9S7JXLJ1Df81AZsTV7p1-cBs6bZEfPdp_XrG-6dV-MbWuc6r/s200/IMG_0769.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">
This was one of the experiences we craved; just wandering the desert
with hardly anyone around, hearing nothing except the wind and the animals
braying and drinking.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">After heading back that afternoon, we settled on a double
swing on the sunny side of the lodge’s covered porch and ordered a bottle of
Mouton Cadet white Bordeaux (a start to Ricky's Birthday!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
wonderful moment – late afternoon on the swing, looking out into the Gobi with
a glass of cold French white wine – OK, maybe a bit over-the-top, but what the
heck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We finished the bottle (much
later!) over a dinner of lightly fried fish and vegetables – delicious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWR5QUiJtcUBCB3UVRXwZWlT0DCg_30QI5NqvmfJ-NXsQ5ODZtBZOi-pr499JWgUS7uakCsO3_dRy23jWG4d1IOBAGskH3c4WdpOSDYQG1D8-gvlzlQbHsEn4kPnK1KXdZ1M9eBqMY4mD/s1600/IMG_0805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWR5QUiJtcUBCB3UVRXwZWlT0DCg_30QI5NqvmfJ-NXsQ5ODZtBZOi-pr499JWgUS7uakCsO3_dRy23jWG4d1IOBAGskH3c4WdpOSDYQG1D8-gvlzlQbHsEn4kPnK1KXdZ1M9eBqMY4mD/s320/IMG_0805.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">The next day, we drove to an outcropping of sand dunes,
where it was very tempting to slide down on ….something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looked around for a saucer or cafeteria tray
or Flexible Flyer, but there weren’t any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Beautiful white sand against a chunky blue sky, the image often
associated with this desert. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">We climbed
up on a dune, looked around and saw no one for miles and miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then drove to a patch of trees that only
grow in the Gobi – about the size of mesquite with succulent needles and
gnarly, dry, twisted trunks and limbs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">We drove to the Flaming Cliffs, so-called because of the color they exhibit in
the later part of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where
Steven Chapman Andrews, American </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgEeFYs1hn8-5dwVOAARX8X8waEj0DbTIPU-AtBJI0vzEpy1TWbxCW88sZMzRU7ETnHwUmTlugbDBhcQtpUPtbW1hw2_u1IxF_S5FjTyc6e4QRnnk90ZhCiKzwBgJmRz0gDCim_xjoCKt/s1600/DSC_0302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgEeFYs1hn8-5dwVOAARX8X8waEj0DbTIPU-AtBJI0vzEpy1TWbxCW88sZMzRU7ETnHwUmTlugbDBhcQtpUPtbW1hw2_u1IxF_S5FjTyc6e4QRnnk90ZhCiKzwBgJmRz0gDCim_xjoCKt/s320/DSC_0302.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">explorer funded by the Natural History Museum
in New York, discovered a significant location of dinosaur bones that had been
effectively preserved when the sand dunes collapsed about 60 million years ago.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">On the 11<sup>th</sup>, we motivated early, for a trip to
Yol Valley, about an hour’s drive in a different direction from the lodge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beautiful valley that was wide, with the
colors of the Gobi, dotted with green and red plants – and as we hiked further,
it evolved into a narrow rock-sided canyon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rock looked like a kind of shale – we will have to look at the
geology of the place at some point!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil70x0ttouuUwLY4Pt2ndlvWlUZS33iD9Pf_jLrgdVaiZ9uuXy-BOCR_iZ0Xg1a20BN13wxKTiQ7XrG_y0SYy6kaQkmHcduxIvx3XciZCmgJNPRbDzwT8RH_7wo0OrF46JgP00mmSl_HL8/s1600/DSC_0011+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil70x0ttouuUwLY4Pt2ndlvWlUZS33iD9Pf_jLrgdVaiZ9uuXy-BOCR_iZ0Xg1a20BN13wxKTiQ7XrG_y0SYy6kaQkmHcduxIvx3XciZCmgJNPRbDzwT8RH_7wo0OrF46JgP00mmSl_HL8/s320/DSC_0011+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yol Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>Boiah wanted to head back after a half-hour, but we kept going for a
couple hours total – about 6km round-trip, according to Chris’ fancy
watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lovely hike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, one more heavenly afternoon on the
porch; the next morning, a quick trip across the desert to a local airport, and
we were back to reality in UB.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMFG4wuZPqQP0GHmuSNiV30UmdmbNB0tewIB7MJl-pP3ZQawOoKqZ6WMPqwFZxtYF0qmKna8kHdPFEUxR-L-zUWOuKSkbpy-DuckdYOEavVK2DwT9YGMyTXkY-uX_E3P6OcjQpikiHIl3/s1600/DSC_0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMFG4wuZPqQP0GHmuSNiV30UmdmbNB0tewIB7MJl-pP3ZQawOoKqZ6WMPqwFZxtYF0qmKna8kHdPFEUxR-L-zUWOuKSkbpy-DuckdYOEavVK2DwT9YGMyTXkY-uX_E3P6OcjQpikiHIl3/s200/DSC_0325.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxIBBFfbZB3bEKaGkGjjMPZbS-OCynMa-DZDkndKNvkUYczuh-omfZ64laz5_pknVBYWN26DpmIoHFSheRErZxVlWszwiW3bBkrcU0Fbed7-JHLSozY_qnxgap0oBYgA-nMWy0m4Wa_em/s1600/IMG_0747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxIBBFfbZB3bEKaGkGjjMPZbS-OCynMa-DZDkndKNvkUYczuh-omfZ64laz5_pknVBYWN26DpmIoHFSheRErZxVlWszwiW3bBkrcU0Fbed7-JHLSozY_qnxgap0oBYgA-nMWy0m4Wa_em/s200/IMG_0747.JPG" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">The Gobi was wonderful. Even the harshest of winds increased the silence. Herds of camels, horses, yak, cow, sheep goats moving closely together as ships sailing on the sea of grass. We simply cannot capture it all here. and, a great place to celebrate Ricky's birthday!</span></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-57402599314308178512013-09-13T19:13:00.001-07:002013-09-13T19:13:15.734-07:00Visiting a nomadic family<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">When I woke up on September 8, I never guessed I’d be
milking a mare later that day…. Will get to that.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgox6MNyYQVl3O12-kBqILEiUWizWYKarpofe1oR-jZzBPn243jqmYJ6d02o_lm-WXpm3R0kCPu9ac_a29TfK7a-lWx95RInYLxBdWdPgE0TZxtz4Fz0T0zzT-2jG6QhbojUqXYmfCcD5pY/s1600/DSC_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgox6MNyYQVl3O12-kBqILEiUWizWYKarpofe1oR-jZzBPn243jqmYJ6d02o_lm-WXpm3R0kCPu9ac_a29TfK7a-lWx95RInYLxBdWdPgE0TZxtz4Fz0T0zzT-2jG6QhbojUqXYmfCcD5pY/s200/DSC_0232.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herding on the Steppes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">We headed South from the Karakhorum camp for a short while
on a dirt track – we were on dirt tracks from now on – and suddenly Boldah, our
driver, veered to the right onto the steppe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We wondered – WTF?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a short
cut to a more travelled track.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
constantly marveled that he always knew where he was going, across the vast
Mongolian steppe – no signs, very few roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But he had been doing this for 15 years; we were not concerned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">Another right turn, and we were headed for the ger
encampment of a nomadic family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two gers,
a satellite dish, a solar panel, about 25 head of horses and some goats across
the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lady of the house, wearing
a Boston, Massachusetts sweatshirt over a cashmere sweater, turned off the small
black and white TV, powered by 3 car batteries, and welcomed us into her
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was busy making a number of
foods from yak milk – a dried yogurt that tasted like a sweet parmesan, dried
bean curd, a butter that was like a solid, but soft ghee, a very smooth vodka,
and then fermented mare’s milk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
pretty tasty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplvwQpXZPeR4VMlwFajZbbfFQJpJEKdoBsZ4egveLfzP6dBZk-9Y9QiMs42hlnlu-i2HMA8KXFBXU5hz1T3_D8TTl86YIYWDPUtEa0YA1zH5l3y2x651UVVpAjpu7Z_eYDY8xRlJ8LYBD/s1600/DSC_0235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplvwQpXZPeR4VMlwFajZbbfFQJpJEKdoBsZ4egveLfzP6dBZk-9Y9QiMs42hlnlu-i2HMA8KXFBXU5hz1T3_D8TTl86YIYWDPUtEa0YA1zH5l3y2x651UVVpAjpu7Z_eYDY8xRlJ8LYBD/s200/DSC_0235.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> Then it was time to milk
the mares - apparently, they do it about 5 times a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried it for a few minutes (hence the
opening comment).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The teats were about 4
inches long and smooth – the technique involved starting at the top and
smoothly moving downward, pinching the teat <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqdaUO51hCfzKG5j28roBn7EKyrTf2oG2OykwPIMdaJSPGr-QjyKZQQRAXVyKgj9-y6vKwtT8FjFfT8-cQ8KfDAUw_Gn4bDdtdeT0qvXCMVaZecxrljatNy77c01aaL6vVZbp6qU1XMTc/s1600/IMG_0669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqdaUO51hCfzKG5j28roBn7EKyrTf2oG2OykwPIMdaJSPGr-QjyKZQQRAXVyKgj9-y6vKwtT8FjFfT8-cQ8KfDAUw_Gn4bDdtdeT0qvXCMVaZecxrljatNy77c01aaL6vVZbp6qU1XMTc/s200/IMG_0669.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ricky trying her hand<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
between thumb and index
finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I squeezed out a fraction of
what she was able to produce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
lovely to hang out with the small herd of horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As their silent herder, wearing traditional
garb, (the woman’s husband?) looked on, we took a close look at a saddle
setting on the one horse who was tethered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was hand-carved from wood with steeply sloping front and back and it
sat on a thick felt pad, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-NR2IZXEAGMTWFpudjxN-F9p5zmXt2sRshotn-MxOthvp4FtkLQHXVLoefrUi41JmgWJXmCQkDZc04M9C3yC3kxfC36LlOo9VWTVdqbSFWOPWrfZ8z_GKL9wlAxulJeWVjsCWVZePQ3R/s1600/IMG_0670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-NR2IZXEAGMTWFpudjxN-F9p5zmXt2sRshotn-MxOthvp4FtkLQHXVLoefrUi41JmgWJXmCQkDZc04M9C3yC3kxfC36LlOo9VWTVdqbSFWOPWrfZ8z_GKL9wlAxulJeWVjsCWVZePQ3R/s200/IMG_0670.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Traditional Wooden Saddle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
all tied down with hand-made leather and horse-hair
straps.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">We thanked them as best we could and took our leave, not
before our hostess ran out with a bag of yak milk goodies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a visit we won’t forget.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyrlReIHcyY6Z_iAGBEX0HR_m_Fben_DN3uiYN4AGGAyh-KGyJO2Ud8tel7qeYZVqxKmqk4f7r6RvT8ZGBmi8obsGPs4Ms6IoQl48BGTVFoSfNs5V3szOJRSTMJ7BjttjCD169XU49LPiQ/s1600/DSC_0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyrlReIHcyY6Z_iAGBEX0HR_m_Fben_DN3uiYN4AGGAyh-KGyJO2Ud8tel7qeYZVqxKmqk4f7r6RvT8ZGBmi8obsGPs4Ms6IoQl48BGTVFoSfNs5V3szOJRSTMJ7BjttjCD169XU49LPiQ/s320/DSC_0252.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-38255557795605261572013-09-13T06:37:00.002-07:002013-09-13T06:37:26.179-07:00KharaKhorum, the ancient Mongolian capital<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Our next stop was the Kharakhorum Valley, which was the
location of the Mongolian capital for about 40 years, when Ogedei, son of
Genghis, was Great Khan – this was about 1240 AD.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrt6iorS9TdL-jmr4TqYZEAgvvq-3DYAhPphdMKm5iqIPbsskXoEwYjiuFDxRCg1shN2L094sRm7DqeL2XCfpDLPuTOP8rUr3TVktWsfVkooW6akt2nk7G1oM1049WnX49EIy8NqOTo6Zu/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrt6iorS9TdL-jmr4TqYZEAgvvq-3DYAhPphdMKm5iqIPbsskXoEwYjiuFDxRCg1shN2L094sRm7DqeL2XCfpDLPuTOP8rUr3TVktWsfVkooW6akt2nk7G1oM1049WnX49EIy8NqOTo6Zu/s200/DSC_0134.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Temples at Erdene Zuu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Due to its favorable weather, the proximity of the Orhan River which runs all year,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and abundant grazing lands, it has been a significant
site of many cultures beginning about 200 BC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We stayed in a ger camp there for two nights, as there were several
places to visit: Erdene Zuu, a Buddhist temple complex from the 1600’s and an
old Turkic site, Shankh Hiid Monastery, from before that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKfl9gvCOgghZKXMJngxDx3jMrcB_tJIvZLiXSbOUUE1Fx5DQUtefT7n87yLak3rUBr7_SkoQb6V7yRGN5nFqHfUwHxNyxzxDVYuBPs01rK7ndTfZTvxUtmrh85k4YezJ1ewPV0Y4C87fK/s1600/IMG_0584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKfl9gvCOgghZKXMJngxDx3jMrcB_tJIvZLiXSbOUUE1Fx5DQUtefT7n87yLak3rUBr7_SkoQb6V7yRGN5nFqHfUwHxNyxzxDVYuBPs01rK7ndTfZTvxUtmrh85k4YezJ1ewPV0Y4C87fK/s200/IMG_0584.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Monastery at Erdene Zuu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>Erdene Zuu was particularly magical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcTNXwa4Cm_GeEe3Mu43T1gEHIaT5k7nxXz78QFf1mWIdT4XYVZ1KVPoUpx0vSfmbCCGon93T13beLC5M-ps2ZtZ92m4OT1ZpQgnTQ5cTtVqeObw0E048bs57Xu4PvX4OEoubPnEhyphenhyphendZT/s1600/DSC_0149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcTNXwa4Cm_GeEe3Mu43T1gEHIaT5k7nxXz78QFf1mWIdT4XYVZ1KVPoUpx0vSfmbCCGon93T13beLC5M-ps2ZtZ92m4OT1ZpQgnTQ5cTtVqeObw0E048bs57Xu4PvX4OEoubPnEhyphenhyphendZT/s200/DSC_0149.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the wall surrounding the<br />Temple Complex</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3mVq3EUwPG-6MkIxDRfw9JEBF8GJnLMhknPkkK12Q_z6CmoCHZ4n66dt0xdw2PaWuZ1o5qICipk4HGye3cUskora2sgTiUqCDxLvjN0S-8jRb1c28bRfwoiul_hk2Rd3RrM381dk5_LW/s1600/IMG_0574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3mVq3EUwPG-6MkIxDRfw9JEBF8GJnLMhknPkkK12Q_z6CmoCHZ4n66dt0xdw2PaWuZ1o5qICipk4HGye3cUskora2sgTiUqCDxLvjN0S-8jRb1c28bRfwoiul_hk2Rd3RrM381dk5_LW/s200/IMG_0574.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Gates of Erdene Zuu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>Situated near the old capital of KharaKhorum,
I could imagine this complex in the 12th Century, surrounded by a wall containing 108 stupas,
rising up suddenly after seeing just endless steppe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It contained a monastery and several temples
from various periods and of different styles; one large temple is still very
active and we were fortunate to witness another puja, where several young monks were
particularly enthusiastic and vocal, and chanting from memory!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Back at the ger camp, we were treated to another performance
on the horse head fiddle, the most highly-revered traditional Mongolian
instrument, as a small local group stopped by with native instruments and
costumes, and shared some traditional Mongolian music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This visit followed on a meeting in UB with the lead player of the Mongolia Folk Orchestra where we got a very close visit with a horse fiddle. A fretless two stringed cello like instrument that is bowed like a cello but fretted with knuckles beneath the string. Quite a challenging instrument to play given the sounds it produces -- conjuring the music of the horses running across the sea of grass.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_X6ECpEf-gbV-f0t5z2c3TIKI6zXhSa02RUZcJrbxtKO7E75FyH_Qw3gBoiIfhgvcLn9lmfqMesBHlfvdPLijNX4e3uMwP3EFSEBAjYdTNOhQuu86hyaFy5D6O0QOwWO0_6GswLap71L/s1600/IMG_0633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_X6ECpEf-gbV-f0t5z2c3TIKI6zXhSa02RUZcJrbxtKO7E75FyH_Qw3gBoiIfhgvcLn9lmfqMesBHlfvdPLijNX4e3uMwP3EFSEBAjYdTNOhQuu86hyaFy5D6O0QOwWO0_6GswLap71L/s200/IMG_0633.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Horse Fiddle Master</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We also spent a couple of relaxed afternoons
on the ger camp restaurant porch writing our even longer journals, with the camp dog at our feet, who
took a shine <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6nE72W0z0fzUAAY2RM7iIf7Vn2lKp9I_-nSXERww0ze9myWTW7_p0PMm-6WGtFt5ZAvhH5AzyKYHU0pyabPGCBkaBWABh0m1uyMlf0jfQVCU0lFwMK3EDQAIQKZxOSbW0dixUQIBKPFM/s1600/IMG_0639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6nE72W0z0fzUAAY2RM7iIf7Vn2lKp9I_-nSXERww0ze9myWTW7_p0PMm-6WGtFt5ZAvhH5AzyKYHU0pyabPGCBkaBWABh0m1uyMlf0jfQVCU0lFwMK3EDQAIQKZxOSbW0dixUQIBKPFM/s200/IMG_0639.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the Generalissimo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
to us because we paid attention to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She, like many of her compatriots, was the
camp general, who kept other dogs and wild animals out of the camp – it was
hard to say goodbye to her!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSn1waZnFvh1akvRc28RwrGpJqmyxw-yDIIavUUVuC65RrbF7ZVIqfJNcrWv41aPPOKw11Vvd8nKAg3ik0Nl4Pbqm3-ccoPJXYwx-kpMg1FlHXeb62WKMoj6fgwwLOTopE55W3jHS5HVO/s1600/IMG_0636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSn1waZnFvh1akvRc28RwrGpJqmyxw-yDIIavUUVuC65RrbF7ZVIqfJNcrWv41aPPOKw11Vvd8nKAg3ik0Nl4Pbqm3-ccoPJXYwx-kpMg1FlHXeb62WKMoj6fgwwLOTopE55W3jHS5HVO/s400/IMG_0636.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ger along the River Orhon at dawn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-54285910737195661222013-09-13T06:07:00.001-07:002013-09-13T06:07:44.810-07:00Hanging out with some wild Mongolian horses (Ricky)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">A night in UB, and we drove outside of the city after a
lovely visit to the Gandan Monastery (Chris has expounded on that) and landed
in the Hustain National Reserve, home to the rare, totally wild Przewalski’s
Horse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say that this is the only
remaining wild horse that still roams free, and their domain is beautiful,
hilly, green steppe about 2 hours west of the capital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-QuYfY-jJEn5xamnPcnHjIjYm0m-OMAlqLL6W3ojHtIHm3oUbJJkBN90NEO-vQ5zFwibBSPk5TL9KeZJ9U7Iq7PWmQKwPEfEOLu0T-eaAvA9zPDIXc_oPNxolBeS2TIOeDMhiy91S2S7/s1600/IMG_0548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-QuYfY-jJEn5xamnPcnHjIjYm0m-OMAlqLL6W3ojHtIHm3oUbJJkBN90NEO-vQ5zFwibBSPk5TL9KeZJ9U7Iq7PWmQKwPEfEOLu0T-eaAvA9zPDIXc_oPNxolBeS2TIOeDMhiy91S2S7/s200/IMG_0548.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A traditional Nomadic Ger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>We settled into our first deluxe ger, so-called
because it had its own toilet and shower – the shower didn’t work, but the
toilet was very welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we set out
on a fairly rigorous hike up the hill behind the ger camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There we discovered our first ovoo, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ2yxug5G0iXin1fpH0vHJEGuCpX71FYtqyR4eWV3GrYRaLnSupU7nPrZCM8un5LGmu-L0TjMhtZaKlyWUyBouEGjz2pT_Hpqp5WPLIZBtP5aTPQYckzjW1Gkvl8OCs60LokBpoRICNVu/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ2yxug5G0iXin1fpH0vHJEGuCpX71FYtqyR4eWV3GrYRaLnSupU7nPrZCM8un5LGmu-L0TjMhtZaKlyWUyBouEGjz2pT_Hpqp5WPLIZBtP5aTPQYckzjW1Gkvl8OCs60LokBpoRICNVu/s200/DSC_0096.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ovoo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
a small
hill of rocks intertwined with scarves in blue, white, yellow, red and/or
green, each expressing a different emotion based on color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are considered places to meet and to
show spiritual devotion, with scarves, by adding rocks or other meaningful
items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tradition is to walk around
these mounds clockwise three times, as the sun moves over the earth, and as one
would around a Buddhist prayer wheel – promotes good karma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">We climbed up for a bit, reached the top, enjoyed a lovely
360 view and then hiked down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the
way, we spotted round, ivory-colored, soccer-ball sized mushrooms – they
looked, well, alien.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Later that afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set, we
drove further into the park to spot some horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are extremely elusive, but we observed
several small herds from a distance as they slowly made their way to a water
hole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad that I had a long lens
on the camera, but just made out a few individuals, their golden coats and jet
black manes glowing in the setting sun.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRVyUYoaWkLy2pylPP9N6wYy2Im_Am_ppVmt50iIJHniYvCTcvhZ6rs4XMroMaJMfdG2XMMnow2AQUDK9nsn26DIxQMqgckoffu-ngh_D5Aecfe5kS3rfVh36OAZSqSIVxw_dZVlKKUW4/s1600/DSC_0113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRVyUYoaWkLy2pylPP9N6wYy2Im_Am_ppVmt50iIJHniYvCTcvhZ6rs4XMroMaJMfdG2XMMnow2AQUDK9nsn26DIxQMqgckoffu-ngh_D5Aecfe5kS3rfVh36OAZSqSIVxw_dZVlKKUW4/s640/DSC_0113.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wild Mongolian Horse of Hustain National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-6668236631952808982013-09-13T05:59:00.001-07:002013-09-13T05:59:33.754-07:00“UB” – from Chris<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">We book- marked our Mongolian trip in Ulan Bator, capital of
Mongolia. Like other emerging Asian cities (see Phnom Penh down in August), I was
prepared for a rough place – particularly since Mongolia is thriving off China’s
hunger for coal, oil, and minerals of all kinds as they prepare to bring the next
600m people out of poverty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1.8m in a
city built to handle just 600,000. (thats more than half of Mongolia’s overall
population of 2.9m)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Massive inversions
in the winter locks in the black pulsing from the coal fired electric and steam
plants – that are now right in the city given its expansion. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fFWvFIxoabQ1aR4rcPsZvUh0caJOqtzVt_2lXyG-cGYucQKqqQSYjST9OkUuEuypPKj2PI5F-CnzYBMMPR6_lMQNGNcK_Noj1Qje-OkbvxqgJP7tIWBD9VP8f4xnJDQySsDv8SiL8rVP/s1600/IMG_0893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fFWvFIxoabQ1aR4rcPsZvUh0caJOqtzVt_2lXyG-cGYucQKqqQSYjST9OkUuEuypPKj2PI5F-CnzYBMMPR6_lMQNGNcK_Noj1Qje-OkbvxqgJP7tIWBD9VP8f4xnJDQySsDv8SiL8rVP/s200/IMG_0893.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel Ulaanbaator</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When not mining, the boys are pickpocketing or
drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“UB” was indeed thuggish on
first view – clogged with traffic, officially a Left Hand Drive country but
with equal number of cars using LH and RH (“it’s a cause of most of our fatal
accidents”). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pedestrians and drivers use
traffic lights as mere guidance, a really young city with lots of stylish women
(3 woman to 1 male in the city), drunken businessman, and punkish twenty-something
boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Data plans have arrived and
everyone’s heads are down into their phones like in other Asia cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We holed up in the Ulaanbaatar Hotel, a relic
of the Soviet domination in the 20<sup>th</sup> century, cleaned up, but still
with more promise than execution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XHiJerF5Wxx1ceykESDvRTJO8fd1Uf1RLjJEVCSpg6RjFkAXd1VfqN_aZfa1LTYXnY-0xQmbmR8m0hHCHHOpoJmzOXRYQmXx27V4Mf8GgNijQq9oFub3yxb029h9bPk1KDs2aNkrX7Sd/s1600/IMG_0529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XHiJerF5Wxx1ceykESDvRTJO8fd1Uf1RLjJEVCSpg6RjFkAXd1VfqN_aZfa1LTYXnY-0xQmbmR8m0hHCHHOpoJmzOXRYQmXx27V4Mf8GgNijQq9oFub3yxb029h9bPk1KDs2aNkrX7Sd/s200/IMG_0529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The temple with the puja</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">But the city became softer in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A visit to the Gandan Monastery, with many
older Nomads in <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJE-J7mcL0OSii5iz6Rk3P5piZ7bmYd-jCVlPKgjPn8kaDifocOQCosDMPUMimj5whT1A60052Wjn1LRWeQMMO6WywUuR4vD1VVHIltC2mubcIp3r19huAGacRexnNONYukcHmgF-B3GM/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJE-J7mcL0OSii5iz6Rk3P5piZ7bmYd-jCVlPKgjPn8kaDifocOQCosDMPUMimj5whT1A60052Wjn1LRWeQMMO6WywUuR4vD1VVHIltC2mubcIp3r19huAGacRexnNONYukcHmgF-B3GM/s200/DSC_0073.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gandan Temple</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
traditional Mongolian wear, children and pigeons, older monks –
a bit plumper for all their years in this harsh clime, but experienced. These
older lamas are teaching the younger ones Mongolia’s unique blend of Buddhism
and Shamanist practices. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked into a puja – the rhythmic chanting
of Buddhist text in the original Tibetan – and we were welcomed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, we experienced many puja’s before, but
this one was intimate; we heard the breath of the lamas and smelled the dust on
the ancient texts. We were both very moved – Ricky was in tears. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"> </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">UB also saw the great resorting of stuff, cleaning clothes
from our 700 mile road journey around central Mongolia and the cleaning increasing
numbers of body folds from eating and drinking plenty of terrific nomadic and Mongolian
fare. We are here on their first hard freeze of the coming winter (“everything
is about preparing for winter”); summers like Denver (high 90’s F), winters
like Gunnison (average January is -20F).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A continental climate they call it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the place looks like it would look better
in the cold and snow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Indeed, UB is a great walking emerging city; plenty of European
style bistros, Asian hawkers, and American Imports; Coca Cola and BD’s
Mongolian Grill (There’s nothing Mongolian about it). We walked and walked –
and helped shore up the locally plunging Mongolian tungret with stuff only available
here (wait till you see our yak sweaters). <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezjKwU9P0rXtQXqB8TXQmOIa9Rl-xKJM-8U8u3znsKOXXr7JBE2j1FQX6JZ4d1Ou71laDbISIY8RNeJukGQytAolrBnpqwW3iVNrgdcv2Qup4rpF9TK8oGgK_NUaXyP97jtVdSqFqs8EN/s1600/IMG_0899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezjKwU9P0rXtQXqB8TXQmOIa9Rl-xKJM-8U8u3znsKOXXr7JBE2j1FQX6JZ4d1Ou71laDbISIY8RNeJukGQytAolrBnpqwW3iVNrgdcv2Qup4rpF9TK8oGgK_NUaXyP97jtVdSqFqs8EN/s200/IMG_0899.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Genghis on the left</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are remnants of domination
everywhere, Stalinists in the 20<sup>th </sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Century, Chinese and Manchurians for the seven
centuries before that. Then there was Genghis Khan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He conquered the world from Siberia to Hong
Kong and from Beijing all the way to Austria in the 13<sup>th</sup>
Century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, Y chromosomes tells us
that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1 in 200 males today may trace
their lineage to Genghis and his sons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgzgF7IksgYZUR6xy2YAADpiBi53Onx0okuruDaXBiyBwPtHbQuIVupFVSxt5ByYADhytq2Xqk6jLps5KJxnc40vTqFoGx2fVwX2Xt6ypAf-5ypWoT-sKj2FeRqShec-lnhQl-VGZpNgW/s1600/IMG_0896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgzgF7IksgYZUR6xy2YAADpiBi53Onx0okuruDaXBiyBwPtHbQuIVupFVSxt5ByYADhytq2Xqk6jLps5KJxnc40vTqFoGx2fVwX2Xt6ypAf-5ypWoT-sKj2FeRqShec-lnhQl-VGZpNgW/s200/IMG_0896.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a young Mongolian couple</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Beautiful people; men yes, but beautiful women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was told about the beautiful Mongolian
woman beforehand from colleagues in Singapore to Shanghai, from Tokyo to
Beijing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really can’t say what it is
but there is something that rings true in the young women and men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s a life on mare’s milk, and meat
with all that calcium and protein, maybe sun and wind exposure with no south asia
obsession with white skin, maybe the tall frames, the high cheekbones, long
black hair and a thin muscular fitness from being raised on horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every woman in stretch jeans doesn’t help dispel
the mythology on the Mongolians. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">And the smell of Ulan Bator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The winds the blow up the dust, the moisture that is captured by the surrounding
mountains that cools but never hits the ground, the wind blowing in fresh air
from Siberia, the dust of a city under construction, and the smells of the ever
present <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>barbeque of beef, yak, camel,
house, mutton and lamb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Combine that
with the light that hits at 47 degrees north latitude. Shared with Seattle,
Quebec City, Salzburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a defining
light at this latitude that brings a higher contrast, a higher definition. A languid
dawn and a lingering dusk - to the mountains all around us and to the city and
to its people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Ricky and I will miss these Asian cities. We are comfortable in these places we have never been, moving seamlessly and
effortlessly through their lifestyle, their culture, their residents and their history. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;"> </span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-47602335833084928832013-09-04T18:15:00.002-07:002013-09-04T18:15:50.511-07:00The Trans Mongolian Railway - Beijing to Ulan Bator<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_oqT2yEMGkarQ56JRbJfu66LHinZbmD5I5l5jDEQlOoIzjHmBXeoYllALvLrkrPyeSzpOJrud3VL1td5PBvezdbsLFf3GSdZzgdz0e63_4ZNucXb_z3qNznWvFaUGKJEmcC0_xiwY8EF/s1600/IMG_0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_oqT2yEMGkarQ56JRbJfu66LHinZbmD5I5l5jDEQlOoIzjHmBXeoYllALvLrkrPyeSzpOJrud3VL1td5PBvezdbsLFf3GSdZzgdz0e63_4ZNucXb_z3qNznWvFaUGKJEmcC0_xiwY8EF/s200/IMG_0454.JPG" width="133" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Tuesday September 3, we were on the train to Ulan Bator
(UB), leaving from Beijing by 8:05am, on the dot. After 45 minutes the industrial scenery north
of the city gave way to small towns, rivers and gorgeous wooded gorges. We had
no idea this kind of landscape was so close to the capital. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4yfkBM8fimqVJTXHFEJKIhEr-CpUJaGO9N2shKOyEMQo4Y7OzkczcCd4jHFc8nEaqsqwKTCXP1gNXKp7_jluBitsMSWvapvI2Zknmvrp_G5ZeG_1JHrtRTqjO7oGdRJ8dg_zQxGJniYV/s1600/IMG_0453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4yfkBM8fimqVJTXHFEJKIhEr-CpUJaGO9N2shKOyEMQo4Y7OzkczcCd4jHFc8nEaqsqwKTCXP1gNXKp7_jluBitsMSWvapvI2Zknmvrp_G5ZeG_1JHrtRTqjO7oGdRJ8dg_zQxGJniYV/s200/IMG_0453.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herbei Province Sails by</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our two days were spent sitting in our
private berth with a thermos of tea, reading and watching Northern China float
by – not really whiz by, as the speed of the train felt like around 45 miles
per hour – and that was fine. We had our
own sink and shower and the shared bathroom was down the hall – it’s good that
it was close by, due to the mass quantities of tea. We supplied the tea bags, and the piping hot
water was provided by a samovar also down the hall, heated by coal. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguNNiiuDtzBomal_9Jbi6SND38VCbLhT9jv3a-gtvAYsdxnf3MmsAAmVyv2oUw66TlrtS_DHDvcF1aJE3gZO_lI6Q7RHIlwPDjmlpyRDcYdnJeah4dzs9e_iBW4A44sq7EK15l6MJ8WNP/s1600/IMG_0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguNNiiuDtzBomal_9Jbi6SND38VCbLhT9jv3a-gtvAYsdxnf3MmsAAmVyv2oUw66TlrtS_DHDvcF1aJE3gZO_lI6Q7RHIlwPDjmlpyRDcYdnJeah4dzs9e_iBW4A44sq7EK15l6MJ8WNP/s200/IMG_0497.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">coal fired Samovar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Our research indicated that we would see segments of the
Great Wall at about 280 kilometers from Beijing, and there it was to the East,
more run-down than the sections near the capital accessible to tourists, but
impressive, nonetheless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just above the
wall we could see considerable strip-mining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kind of symbolic of China:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>fascinating history and rampant industrialization.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yesterday, we woke up on the train, our first morning in
Mongolia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the upper bunk, I opened
the window shade and looked out on the endless <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JB6mr51MVuX7laoDSNCXAHIW_F1CDKUbLmn_pEuyT__v37Jod_ZyNzcZrnRpxjoG1C-ofQ9efCA1Rhy0YKpNlEz10_NLRVmTa3zOttg8Di50g6RmubHo-ZrfcFJXFM8tMIZSm-TR0sNM/s1600/DSC_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JB6mr51MVuX7laoDSNCXAHIW_F1CDKUbLmn_pEuyT__v37Jod_ZyNzcZrnRpxjoG1C-ofQ9efCA1Rhy0YKpNlEz10_NLRVmTa3zOttg8Di50g6RmubHo-ZrfcFJXFM8tMIZSm-TR0sNM/s200/DSC_0058.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nomadic rancher running <br />
alongside the train</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mongolian steppe, a sage sea
grassland stretching to the horizon – a very calming sight after experiencing
the hordes in Beijing and overnight interruptions from the customs and
immigration teams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late in the evening,
we waited 3 hours for the train’s wheel adjustments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chinese trains use a standard railroad gauge of
wheels; Mongolia and Russia do not – so the rail cars were moved into a shed,
raised up on big, red hydraulic lifts, the Chinese wheel carriages were
removed, and the Mongolian carriages were installed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of clanging and jerking around – Chris left
to scrounge around the station; I stayed on board – interesting experience.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrNhAYkzSwBNFCQDFBHgULyhxS48ImeZEbLzqodqFIcOkdHRubmCD4lm0NL12ETmj0mIMS_pMyF1mYH942zKDeMqC9J6D_R_Hp2EBZT0DrDKh-VbxtXabLPef3ZA-b5WjdIpjhAitHsVV/s1600/IMG_0499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrNhAYkzSwBNFCQDFBHgULyhxS48ImeZEbLzqodqFIcOkdHRubmCD4lm0NL12ETmj0mIMS_pMyF1mYH942zKDeMqC9J6D_R_Hp2EBZT0DrDKh-VbxtXabLPef3ZA-b5WjdIpjhAitHsVV/s200/IMG_0499.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swapping the bogie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then at 12:30, Chinese officials took our
departure documents, made sure we looked like our passport pictures (“smile,
please”), at 1:00am Mongolian officials showed up for immigration and we were
on our way. Note; a global standard – immigrations officials everywhere are
humorless, dehumanizing lost souls.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">also as part of this swap, we swapped our Chinese dining car for a Mongolian dining car. A great Mongolian menu! we ordered up some interesting looking dishes for breakfast - the new Mongolian waiter, in true Khan family fashion, nodded yes politely and then barked "NO! just Omelette, toast, coffee! $15 USD!". That offerring was not on the menu. We were in the land of Genghis Khan.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTH7_JH0KE5l_QRVY6Jp73YT4yZlEMESEmHcmm86BnUdH7of2XZ7aMcsFwezx1jxvkl7RAVDg0Lk9ztAPYABEWe0WQIiI6Hv6OBUbJer8KqMEtN8G7MyIZLLDT6CH0x9czfsWq2s7yBXk/s1600/IMG_0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTH7_JH0KE5l_QRVY6Jp73YT4yZlEMESEmHcmm86BnUdH7of2XZ7aMcsFwezx1jxvkl7RAVDg0Lk9ztAPYABEWe0WQIiI6Hv6OBUbJer8KqMEtN8G7MyIZLLDT6CH0x9czfsWq2s7yBXk/s200/IMG_0505.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">This morning we leave for our Mongolian journey, starting with
a look at the Ganden Monastery in UB.
Then to the Steppe! In the “outback”
of Mongolia, there is no Internet, so you won’t hear from us until we are back
in UB.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-42115565434309072772013-08-31T18:41:00.001-07:002013-08-31T20:18:02.150-07:00Singapore - A Bittersweet Visit<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBJzHVoNH17GNC996VWre-fYcvv0Ax7YFVkm1wB_hqIjxG2HWwGAmpipcycOHWkYUE5xXnJ2XYhFhZOXNQsm4dWBiu3-g3hulU29LZ621sA-F6O2XmihFplz0tG4unwGplLWSAMq1MovJ/s1600/DSC_0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBJzHVoNH17GNC996VWre-fYcvv0Ax7YFVkm1wB_hqIjxG2HWwGAmpipcycOHWkYUE5xXnJ2XYhFhZOXNQsm4dWBiu3-g3hulU29LZ621sA-F6O2XmihFplz0tG4unwGplLWSAMq1MovJ/s200/DSC_0348.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Festival in Little India</td></tr>
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Returning to Singapore, I was reminded of what I have missed about it: how the lush former jungle island hits you as you speed along the ECP from Changi with the smell of humidity and the pink flowering shrubs spilling over the median strip. Chris and I whiz by East Coast Park, the Starbucks at Big Splash, Katong Park, where we spent many lovely times with Lucy, good friends, and doggy friends under the huge acacia-like trees, dripping with parasitic ferns. We see the Belvedere, home for two years, source of a few really good life-long, I'm sure, friendships, and a great pool which kept me in shape, sort of; kept me sane. <br /><br />
Waking up near Arab Street, we can see the Sultan Mosque peek over the roofs and hear the call to prayer, anticipating a morning of good food and great shopping. Next door in Little India is Tekka Market, where I used to buy our veggies, fish and fruit from the same guys and always felt a part of a vibrant community.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Banana Leaf Lady at Tekka</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I love the market's smells and sounds of a blend of nationalities, religions, cultures, mingling under the same roof. Indeed, this is representative of the whole city: multiple cultures peacefully coexisting in the same neighborhoods. </span><br />
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A taxi fare here can buy you a rocky ride, but also a quick<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atop a SuperTree</td></tr>
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but meaningful exchange about the state of the world, or at least about the country. Then there's the skyline. I'm not a city person, but the view across the river or from up above one of the "Super Trees" or from the bar at Level 33 is stunning - you watch new, bizarre structures go up, wonder what were they thinking, and then marvel at how it all fits.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tYLseuAz1IwsEmH3Rintz_aXCtNPi9KPoGY1TVdtWA_hcjkErnZ8RZaxQr4vU38e6geaFFs3MIszzCkrTPgqYw8A-ESY0hZx7u6c4x8la5K24ngfxa3IKULi7SDgfP5SI_mcUPfbOspe/s1600/P9010012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tYLseuAz1IwsEmH3Rintz_aXCtNPi9KPoGY1TVdtWA_hcjkErnZ8RZaxQr4vU38e6geaFFs3MIszzCkrTPgqYw8A-ESY0hZx7u6c4x8la5K24ngfxa3IKULi7SDgfP5SI_mcUPfbOspe/s200/P9010012.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muddy Ollie at the Hash</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dog hashes - almost forgot to mention these incredibly awesome events, where, once a month, Chris, Lucy and I would go crashing through the jungle on these organized runs, followed by dog bowls of beer, sometimes food, a bit of hysterical banter and bawdy British drinking songs. A long-time UK past time that had been cultivated in "the colonies" and enhanced by this club with the wise inclusion of our doggy buddies. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Then there is Tanjong Beach, a lovely dog-friendly beach on the island of Sentosa, about a half-hour drive from our condo - yes, this island, which is Singapore's playground, can be reached via a very short causeway off the south side of the island. Dogs are allowed all the time, but it is Saturday mornings, when the humans are off work and it is relatively <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Girls on the Sentosa Beach</td></tr>
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cool, that dogs rule on Tanjong Beach. It is wonderfully not crowded - dogs running in and out of the waveless surf, exuding unbridled, literally, joy, humans standing by, milling around, catching up on the week's news. And then there is the part about swimming with with Lucy - up to my neck in the water, looking out at the ships on the distant horizon, Chris a bit further out, about to throw the ball, and Lucy's face moving towards me on the surface of the water. Magic.<br /><br />
A visit to Chinatown takes us to the tea master, who offers an hour-long private talk on the properties of tea, demonstrates the ritual of serving it, and sells tea pots, cups, tea in beautiful tins or as bricks. Here, I tasted white tea for the first time, delicate, subtle and loaded with antioxidants. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5a_4Z8Nuq5LLmZ42F7b3HQbIpH0UlV554S8G8V8as7ImecTcntCXlIzDu2oj22FacywO29A90kHFD8Fi1I-O1_NH1vzzKiIN1W0X2rPsWx-32vrWcU4nzKAxF4u2W4L38kTzoehx71sl/s1600/IMG_0401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5a_4Z8Nuq5LLmZ42F7b3HQbIpH0UlV554S8G8V8as7ImecTcntCXlIzDu2oj22FacywO29A90kHFD8Fi1I-O1_NH1vzzKiIN1W0X2rPsWx-32vrWcU4nzKAxF4u2W4L38kTzoehx71sl/s200/IMG_0401.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ricky, Christopher and Christopher</td></tr>
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A few blocks away is Eight Treasures Vegetarian Restaurant, my favorite here, where a gentile older Chinese man ("call me Christopher", he said) serves us Black Pepper Chicken - tastes like chicken, has the texture of chicken, but is plant- based. His place is right next to the Buddha Tooth Relic Buddhist Temple, so we often enjoyed lunch or dinner here beside a large table of monks.<br /><br />
And that's just one example, of course, of the incredible food - it's a wonder that Chris and I didn't double our weight here. On every corner we could find Indian and Thai curries, seafood and veggies cooked with chilies, lemongrass, citrus, spices - and if we went to a hawker stand, we could eat really well for less than 10SGD (about 8USD) a piece. Well, unless we got Chili Crab.<br /><br />
I'll end my diatribe with the food - gotta go grab some lunch.....</span>Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-23722667526304900502013-08-26T15:40:00.003-07:002013-08-27T11:50:16.982-07:00The Long Way Home<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Our long, exciting trip home from Singapore begins this week. I'll catch a flight there from Denver, meet up with Chris and enjoy a few days visiting dear friends and returning to old haunts.... And acclimating. On Sunday, we'll catch a red-eye (yuk) to Beijing, spend an evening amongst the hutongs with a colleague of Chris' who is based there, and hop on a train to Ulaan Baatar the next morning.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">This is where the real adventure begins. Chris decided that after 42 years of work, he needed a break, an adjustment period, a dramatic transition to help launch into the void of retirement. A journey home using minimal flying time through unchartered territory seemed to be the ticket.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">So, the first leg of the journey will be about 9 days roaming around Eastern Mongolia, beginning and ending in Ulaan Baatar, the capital. We will travel by SUV and by foot, visiting villages and Mongol Empire ruins, on the high steppe and in the Gobi Desert and staying in ger camps.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Then we will take an overnight train on the Trans-Mongolian line to Irkutsk, near Lake Baikal in Siberia, where we'll spend a day or so hiking around the largest fresh-water lake in the world.... and deepest, I think. There, we'll pick up a train on the Tran-Siberian Railroad and travel for a couple of days until we get to Yekaterinburg. We'll stay a night there only because we have to change trains - that evening will be our anniversary.... Should be interesting. Yekaterinburg is know for two things: as the birthplace of Boris Yeltsin, and where the last czar and his family were murdered.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Back on the train from Yekaterinburg, we'll head to St. Petersburg, which was formerly Leningrad, which was formerly St. Petersburg. Friends who have been there have all said that it is a beautiful and fascinating city, so we'll spend four days there. Then we'll hop on an overnight ferry to Stockholm, across the Baltic Sea. We'll overnight there and then fly home, through Newark......</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">That's it in a nutshell. I hope you can see the map I've uploaded - kind of gives you an idea of where the heck we're going. (I understand it doesn't work with notebooks, but hopefully, you can see it with a laptop.) We'll do our best to keep this blog updated, whether you're interested or not! You'll be spared whilst we're in Mongolia, as I doubt the yurts have wi-fi.....</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><img height="489" src="webkit-fake-url://77F357DE-9313-47E0-933C-EFA79DCE7E27/image.tiff" width="640" /></span></span>Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-68357291560457028482013-08-26T05:12:00.000-07:002013-08-26T22:29:54.169-07:00Phnom Penh<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Phnom Penh – August 2013 (entry by Chris)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">There is something about Emerging Asian cities that Ricky
and I really enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of that is Phnom
Penh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>The Skyline</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A mix of
brand new office towers and new posh hotels among the old colonial era shop
houses and backpacker hostels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuk Tuking around</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>The Traffic.</u> An assortment of Tuk Tuks, motorbikes with five
people on them, cement trucks and trash lorries, loud intercity busses filled
with people and livestock , rickshaws, and the occasional Cadillac Escalade
(equivalent) with darkened windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
mixing the roads into a swirl of dust and diesel that you can taste and a noise
that’s a third world symphony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kandall Market</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>The Markets</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
loud, boisterous wet markets of produce, beef, pork, flowers, chicken, goat,
fish, prawns, and the occasional disgusting offering (durian and edible spiders
and bees).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smell of rice vinegar is
everywhere as it’s used as a disinfectant – and the occasional whiff of
something that is just wrong in any culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And the dry markets loaded with local (or passed as local but really
Chinese) made </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">clothes, name brand rejects from the outsourced factories or
knockoffs, pirated movies, software, and music. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>The History</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mosques,
Wats, Palaces, Tombs… these cities go back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Way back. To trading times that precede Marco Polo, to feudal agrarian empires,
to Monasteries with strong monks and deeply held beliefs with fascinating local
variations, and to warlords that built all this magnificent stuff with, well,
slaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpeE7cswa5pJuyEcx2jGByspJmXf58sXnsmal9S4ynfR5CKziptqeLTaoGFrsx1tLqLXLDTeM0Y3WFgykrMDXyKd9AcdVkGt70-diLBBB-lyVWYxjEbA2U2Xn6wW0Dwtcc_jpOjOSKSqLc/s1600/IMG_0250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpeE7cswa5pJuyEcx2jGByspJmXf58sXnsmal9S4ynfR5CKziptqeLTaoGFrsx1tLqLXLDTeM0Y3WFgykrMDXyKd9AcdVkGt70-diLBBB-lyVWYxjEbA2U2Xn6wW0Dwtcc_jpOjOSKSqLc/s200/IMG_0250.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Royal Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ITXqRiJyH819r_zeKdyWPBCEdsKQzxiwh6eeYbl9CA7cvQAdvae0Kt0_P8A4kgjy-wTd1tHcGYGqkzKAa1QdGsAq7AfzlKiE8_MqSvqgJkwxiq6COYBCIZ6hxrMv95mGwhUuCM7hLhOv/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ITXqRiJyH819r_zeKdyWPBCEdsKQzxiwh6eeYbl9CA7cvQAdvae0Kt0_P8A4kgjy-wTd1tHcGYGqkzKAa1QdGsAq7AfzlKiE8_MqSvqgJkwxiq6COYBCIZ6hxrMv95mGwhUuCM7hLhOv/s200/IMG_0263.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Foreign Correspondents Club</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>And, the Scene</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
mix of locals, the native economic bosses, expats looking to make a buck or
spend their trusts more slowly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the
tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and Ricky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PLU (People Like Us) or some with seedier
motives. The Scene plays out in all the areas above but congregates around
café’s and bars but steps up its game at night (which comes early near the
equator) along the tourist strip, at the smoky open air music bars, at the
hostess bars filled with girls working for tips, patio restaurants with the
smells of curries and stews enticing you in, along the river way, and in the week
end night markets.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6W5oq9sEOadAJazFNBGkU7GbUCiVjbPRIm4AXQM0N1puEIpWBxypKquZ9lcl6HuExXkgvK98RIuGtbQ3oUMcoVmVGCM7iSqXUdhpmjE7UrgQ9pqlLPrFtcGQ_x1WiL1wlP22Bc4LYIx06/s1600/IMG_0306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6W5oq9sEOadAJazFNBGkU7GbUCiVjbPRIm4AXQM0N1puEIpWBxypKquZ9lcl6HuExXkgvK98RIuGtbQ3oUMcoVmVGCM7iSqXUdhpmjE7UrgQ9pqlLPrFtcGQ_x1WiL1wlP22Bc4LYIx06/s200/IMG_0306.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staking out a Picnic Spot <br />
at the Night Market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
More than a night version of the day markets, these are
temporary stalls in public squares, lights strung at levels that have me doing
a constant Limbo, local bands, beggars, and drawing families in from the city
and the towns who lay out blankets on the concrete, have picnics and hunker
down until dawn. ...For the market, for the music, and for the munchies! the street food is outstanding with all varieties of curries, stir frys and BBQ from tens and tens of hawkers. wow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">All that is Phnom Penh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTh_Ix5BwAc6cIqTmOBb21n137zN-8qB5mrU90S2xbJhkZyE3hYDm0y6e3cu8b3XKDn1aLQL3WHPtbxDs8kzdS7pl6HOxvEPyc93yzwxUQ2hBdbtunCGqeosUtLRy5HOlhNyJasejy8bpf/s1600/IMG_0316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTh_Ix5BwAc6cIqTmOBb21n137zN-8qB5mrU90S2xbJhkZyE3hYDm0y6e3cu8b3XKDn1aLQL3WHPtbxDs8kzdS7pl6HOxvEPyc93yzwxUQ2hBdbtunCGqeosUtLRy5HOlhNyJasejy8bpf/s200/IMG_0316.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solitary Confinement<br />
on the Mekong Night Cruise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I spent a week there on a solo trip – mostly to see if
Singapore would exert quarantine on me for taxes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(They did not.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I’m comfortable solo – would certainly
prefer Ricky’s company and perspective on all this – but Phnom Penh is a bit
different given the variety of tourism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It attracts the same sort of tourism frequently enjoyed by middle aged,
bigger, creepy, solo, Western males. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
sort of tourism that’s become popular in Manila, Bangkok, Taipei.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They far outnumbered me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No PLU. My longest conversation to non-service
people was 15 seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made the most of the time in solitary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtN7QJDu3j_65qW37mu4LONEIoqnglV0mzeNDLzPfBuw8LPq2-UURSTITZnKfaWhlTVb9pnXtcMJUi9iRPHVQRr_qCZzaODiynJpdxx1pAt4xL5A3upMNOtLy7kRT9-d5vcN6ha5QqlnV/s1600/IMG_0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtN7QJDu3j_65qW37mu4LONEIoqnglV0mzeNDLzPfBuw8LPq2-UURSTITZnKfaWhlTVb9pnXtcMJUi9iRPHVQRr_qCZzaODiynJpdxx1pAt4xL5A3upMNOtLy7kRT9-d5vcN6ha5QqlnV/s200/IMG_0312.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ho Chi Minh to Angkor Wat Cruise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">The other difference in Phnom Penh is that this is the capital
of Cambodia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ricky and I have been in
other cities like this, but they were not capital cities – at least not current
capital cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phnom Penh is flooded
with NGO’s (non -Governmental Organizations).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Offices of the World Bank, United Nations, countless philanthropic NGO’s
– and their staff and their influence is everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most popular restaurants and the priciest
retailers are all aligned with A Cause – part of their proceeds benefiting a
philanthropic cause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good thing – but
boy are there a lot of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Would I return?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
Ricky, sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a destination – perhaps
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, while wandering around the
riverfront I saw this <a href="http://www.vikingrivercruises.com/rivercruises/mekong-hanoi-angkor-saigon-2013/itinerary.aspx">elegant old steamer</a> filled with PLU (they looked older,
though!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A port on a trip up the
Mekong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ho Chi Minh to Angkor Wat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A new entry for the bucket list.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sNqyjQ-6yY7hzWOVCoPbpDtDdmRYV6IBly0WENoo83vyOyryZ_xQOT53iiKB3-yERQvRbydJ8DUXMKnO6fx42CLyczNiSNP5cX0q-S3QD8gP5mydrAGpSye4L65nyj9rDmX1w9Wjkoe3/s1600/IMG_0309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sNqyjQ-6yY7hzWOVCoPbpDtDdmRYV6IBly0WENoo83vyOyryZ_xQOT53iiKB3-yERQvRbydJ8DUXMKnO6fx42CLyczNiSNP5cX0q-S3QD8gP5mydrAGpSye4L65nyj9rDmX1w9Wjkoe3/s400/IMG_0309.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun sets in Phnom Penh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1430012171355093996.post-66202916280913146472013-08-17T18:43:00.000-07:002013-08-17T19:22:01.818-07:00The Missing Months - from ChrisPhnom Penh, Cambodia -
While 2013 will be one year that Ricky and I will both remember fondly for a long time, it was a challenging one for us given the disruptive events for Ricky and me around changes in my work environment. We are each filling in the gaps in Singapooch. My company was running through some changes that I felt would inevitably affect me one way or another, and we together made the decision that it would be best to concentrate those changes with me rather than with the whole family – small as it may be. So, that meant long times apart from Ricky, and Lucy (the pooch in Singapooch), a part of our family as any child might be to us. Ricky and Lucy left Singapore, and took all of what we had built together there, and I went solo. At first, my months in a Malay Muslim neighborhood were exciting.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiC0fgpb94nbi3Td_QNn31W7pImLFupIjUy2fyuQoFCIcwChonHmUn5c7eJZiHBc936yTQtYN2ZuxOlrengCTZvxiwVWD6_39-0ezg-SVYPbJzU44QGkEqttGaEohyxKHCMMN8ii9jrjWn/s1600/IMG_4244+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiC0fgpb94nbi3Td_QNn31W7pImLFupIjUy2fyuQoFCIcwChonHmUn5c7eJZiHBc936yTQtYN2ZuxOlrengCTZvxiwVWD6_39-0ezg-SVYPbJzU44QGkEqttGaEohyxKHCMMN8ii9jrjWn/s200/IMG_4244+(2).JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kembangan, Singapore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was the only Ang Mo (westerner) around in Kembangan. But slowly, the windowless quarters, the great street food menus written in Malay and Chinese that I could not read, and the isolation become less and less intriguing.
I took to the road on business trips and weekends on side trips on my costs. April was nonstop with trips to Beijing, Xi’an (central/west China), and Bangkok with a weekend trip to the Ayutthaya ruins, Tokyo travel too. Xi’an is the home of the Terracotta Warriors – 2100 year old stone soldiers built to protect the Emperor in death.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRRMZRBMN9qnVzXDohyu2Uxc6eMMn5CIlUyV-0fielkBZuUGUoTRBNHKrIldxkhwd6fSlspzWXd2P0ThUipOO8EvRHeihiD628Qqz5HcEZGLS68eg-yvu_WllETTsDNDS9SccuHgI9H8w/s1600/IMG_3912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRRMZRBMN9qnVzXDohyu2Uxc6eMMn5CIlUyV-0fielkBZuUGUoTRBNHKrIldxkhwd6fSlspzWXd2P0ThUipOO8EvRHeihiD628Qqz5HcEZGLS68eg-yvu_WllETTsDNDS9SccuHgI9H8w/s200/IMG_3912.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terracotta Warriors and One Bubba</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Impressive enough, but most day trippers to the excavation site miss the city of Xi’an itself. This was a terminus of the Silk Road where Muslim traders from the Middle East travelled and traded with their eastern brothers. And here in Xi’an is a 1600 year old Islamic mosque built to Chinese architectural models. It’s hard to explain how puzzling it is to see Chinese pagodas with Islamic stone engraving.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JPVCjdYWqJ8o2jEArPP8hThUPJkSEenogAVzfRwP_vAXyU6PB9js4kE1lTVFKHlUq0rLabGbauy7b9-7latp7XkNQRo4JMfnd3gwRaMAE1v22vucB-SN46luroatMgxgVdaPFoLJFp7q/s1600/IMG_3994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JPVCjdYWqJ8o2jEArPP8hThUPJkSEenogAVzfRwP_vAXyU6PB9js4kE1lTVFKHlUq0rLabGbauy7b9-7latp7XkNQRo4JMfnd3gwRaMAE1v22vucB-SN46luroatMgxgVdaPFoLJFp7q/s200/IMG_3994.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Mosque of Xi'an</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In Bangkok to Ayutthaya, an ancient city that was the ancient capital of Siam.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHwpsj4ULWgbleSk66UBlx-4GlFHEYyt1OnNSxh6Sf950WJR870EYy2HZ_ilnmnz2e-07LBss_yrOMnRaUU9Z6cP6d2KHhOBhHljaurzXT2k1r5OJxFJOpgUnINmbD0I0Nf_3tinJrRRi/s1600/IMG_4113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHwpsj4ULWgbleSk66UBlx-4GlFHEYyt1OnNSxh6Sf950WJR870EYy2HZ_ilnmnz2e-07LBss_yrOMnRaUU9Z6cP6d2KHhOBhHljaurzXT2k1r5OJxFJOpgUnINmbD0I0Nf_3tinJrRRi/s200/IMG_4113.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reclining Buddha near Ayutthaya, Thailand </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Stunning – and stunning as well in the breadth of a core spirituality that reaches from Indonesia and Japan to Thailand, from Korea to Sri Lanka. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZpLKUXPh0o-KJ7rXdkDBlAzAp2p3caeOoYtJyJ1DHekM3X3-VBEwjA9pQavw6daTnwhiWjDH1w6X7qRdYCiVzqNkJLy-NA7P3_J0KsAoiz-9iBNhuGOYP9MU6sd4tstyfxQkckOgwqIz/s1600/IMG_4180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZpLKUXPh0o-KJ7rXdkDBlAzAp2p3caeOoYtJyJ1DHekM3X3-VBEwjA9pQavw6daTnwhiWjDH1w6X7qRdYCiVzqNkJLy-NA7P3_J0KsAoiz-9iBNhuGOYP9MU6sd4tstyfxQkckOgwqIz/s200/IMG_4180.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Old Sally Barber Mine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In May, I found myself in Colorado. I forget the business reason or for how long, but the reunification invigorated me more than I would know. I left Colorado for a return to Singapore for five hours before going to Australia for a few weeks with a long weekend in Melbourne. It was nice to be part of an autumn (Southern Hemisphere. May = October) and seeing trees changing color and cool rains hitting the hills. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-EZ6unRMGkTewHS9LNWsksDnaCXYdWDljM-ExxQfnanTo_I9vyJhQFF86pbRPiarJJwuhz2kLEbcOOyt1J2N0J7UVKgu1e_2cwbXcJ7JZsFW7t_YV9d_axpC25aW-oAbG7nMLbxiWlEx/s1600/IMG_4206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-EZ6unRMGkTewHS9LNWsksDnaCXYdWDljM-ExxQfnanTo_I9vyJhQFF86pbRPiarJJwuhz2kLEbcOOyt1J2N0J7UVKgu1e_2cwbXcJ7JZsFW7t_YV9d_axpC25aW-oAbG7nMLbxiWlEx/s200/IMG_4206.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Healesville Sanctuary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I went from far north in Victoria at an animal rescue reserve <a href="http://www.zoo.org.au/healesville">http://www.zoo.org.au/healesville</a> to far south to watch the Blue Penguins in their dusk parade to shore for an evening of wild fornication before returning to the sea at dawn to sleep it off. (they are on shore at dusk to dawn to avoid the birds who prey on them when the birds’ eyesight sucks). It was a good revisit from my first visit with them 24 years back on my first trip to Australia. (The whole place went Hollywood) <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLZgerRJmOSNCKQLGrSSP-SDe6A9pTWWER8AUDa6kTNjnkh6ZVkPWm55d2nIuiZn7doCQjfoX3lNCMuh1hYmkXqOiNHQ7UqoDaXiSELp3T6HoT6I453l1SwrxG2VHY3lDhBifLU2XeNf7/s1600/IMG_4228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLZgerRJmOSNCKQLGrSSP-SDe6A9pTWWER8AUDa6kTNjnkh6ZVkPWm55d2nIuiZn7doCQjfoX3lNCMuh1hYmkXqOiNHQ7UqoDaXiSELp3T6HoT6I453l1SwrxG2VHY3lDhBifLU2XeNf7/s200/IMG_4228.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Little Blue" Penguins of Phillip Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
June was back in Singapore, where I continued to get reacquainted with my old Gary Fisher HK II mountain bike and many many 20, 30 and 40 km bike rides around Singapore. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPQfDh32oB9zZK9nZD37EtoPHlolXr0cwrX9UWlaWwZQXMGaX4jZC5pK8xlJwwsE2ddRyttb1z44LNZTHtH61gDvl4JXdvYKb5BVMppZnWAvDSdtmZBKa2mDFHZ2eePY6PUiYgI-fL9TI/s1600/IMG_3829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPQfDh32oB9zZK9nZD37EtoPHlolXr0cwrX9UWlaWwZQXMGaX4jZC5pK8xlJwwsE2ddRyttb1z44LNZTHtH61gDvl4JXdvYKb5BVMppZnWAvDSdtmZBKa2mDFHZ2eePY6PUiYgI-fL9TI/s200/IMG_3829.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singapore from Marine Barrage</td></tr>
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The end of June brought me a resolution to my Asian work assignment and another very rewarding visit home for a good old American 4th of July and massive kanreki in Breckenridge .<a href="http://brcoop.tripod.com/kanreki2.html">http://brcoop.tripod.com/kanreki2.html</a> And, planning on the future ahead.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting a Welcome at Denver International</td></tr>
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I dumped my Malay housing situation and was taken in by our new lifelong friends in Singapore who now refer to me as their Unemployed Teen Age Boarder! Louise and Rob Baskerville have showed me more genuine hospitality and friendship then I could ever imagine. And, I have a surrogate pooch in my pal, Ralph, a Schnauzer miniature in breed, but giant in personality. I will be forever grateful to Rob, Louise and Ralph… in making what should have been a traumatic lifetime transition, toward a new chapter with Ricky.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2DiI3rK0TX2y2inYVRWHOnvPJHZsNGKx-6SB_AvPdkp9doWaqFe9p22NvXucC8cDDveee6B8oBkv_Z45VqbWm9AQl4H_smcWf35kcw3XcJufS0MS9dmSBEQ7TG91XTJ0eRCKDpgvB6s9/s1600/IMG_0055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2DiI3rK0TX2y2inYVRWHOnvPJHZsNGKx-6SB_AvPdkp9doWaqFe9p22NvXucC8cDDveee6B8oBkv_Z45VqbWm9AQl4H_smcWf35kcw3XcJufS0MS9dmSBEQ7TG91XTJ0eRCKDpgvB6s9/s200/IMG_0055.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Louise and Rob Baskerville</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaRQaUG9DkZj3cFvouFXQ3Gk-z6xyQ-Sw_4TuCl382NK6bx5dnqsF9iyvYrSsGY78DB3RPnIZpwIfCdMjtz1Y0-aB4Iq4xJDmiV7UDU0Fuuq6xnjiaoRT_AIiwJJicgylWjCP3eNcDXjK/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaRQaUG9DkZj3cFvouFXQ3Gk-z6xyQ-Sw_4TuCl382NK6bx5dnqsF9iyvYrSsGY78DB3RPnIZpwIfCdMjtz1Y0-aB4Iq4xJDmiV7UDU0Fuuq6xnjiaoRT_AIiwJJicgylWjCP3eNcDXjK/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ralph</td></tr>
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Ricky Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01059907726300346570noreply@blogger.com0