St Kilda Film Festival

Well Thorns was on at the St Kilda Film Festival on the weekend and
recieved an enthusiastic response from all reports. We are in St
Petersburg so we couldn't attend but the text messages of a few have
kept us abreast. Stay tuned for more interesting news......

The Oddessey - Part Four

Mongolia..... Land, as the Lonely Planet would have you believe, Without Fences.

Actually as dawn broke on the train we noticed that I was not only a year older and therefore thirty, but also the Lonely Planet was completely wrong. Much of what we saw out the window was fenced, be it round the gers that we passed, or just along the train line to stop flocks getting flattened by us. But now that I was old enough to put such literary quibbles aside I was able to appreciate the beauty of the sparse desert and mountains and the entire lack of people. Our lovely train companions from Cork offered up a wagon wheel as a birthday cake and a feast was had. It did make a change from rolling over in one's own bed and thinking, another one bites the dust. The other main train event was the drop in temperature from Beijing's balmy 32 to Mong's 12 hurrah.

Our hostel owner was there to pick us up as was English friend Russ. Actually Zaya the hostel lady was there to pick up three new Zealanders who had actually confirmed their booking properly but she took us in anyway and deposited us in our extremely cushy room. As we prepared to go out into the streets of UB all of the other people in the hostel told us not to take our day packs and try to look poor. So no photos of downtown but it can be summed up with few words. Soviet. OK that's one word but that and the copious amounts of shops called Chingis something or other and you get the picture. As was becoming routine we ran into Russ and Jo on the street and went to a great Mongolian cafe for 5 different ways to eat mutton which were all great, then beers at one of the traditional German beer houses cropping up on every street corner.

The next morning we were off to Terelj with the three new zealanders for our first taste of Mongolia proper. We drove past stunning rock formations and plains. We took photos of stunning rock formations and plains. Our camp was with a family that have a spare ger for small groups of tourists. Nice and more authentic than a tourist ger. After having some traditional Mongolian tea which consists of a bowl of warm yak milk with the hint of tea flavour and, of course, added salt to taste, we were presented with our lunch which was horse and noodles. Lovely. Then it was out of the ger to ride horses across the steppes. I would like to say that I galloped, aragorn style through the stunning landscape. The landscape was indeed stunning and if you meant by aragorn style trotting fairly briskly whilst trying to take photos and some very jerky video, then I did it. It is stunning and I tried to feel at one with the the great Khan who had a beard too. Back in time for more horse in fried pastry and some rousing mongolian dust soccer. Believe it or not dear readers, I scored the first goal of the match and only felt like having a mild heart attack.

Back the next morning to UB via a charming Russian monument overlooking the city that has a circular mosaic showing how the lovely Russians came and befriended the mongols and showed them how to truly be happy and maybe murdered a couple of thousand monks and peasants but really aren't we all better off? Not of you're a monk. The effect of the monument was made physical by it getting more bitterly cold and windy the closer we got to it, not that stopped a couple of Mongol teenagers wearing mini-skirts from enjoying it but I have accepted that I am neither as young or as Mongolian as they and didn't bear them any ill will. It is incredible to see a guy wandering around in a singlet when you are in a polarfleece and hat. It was heartening to realise though that that doesn't mean he doesn't feel chilly, he's just cooler than that.

The next day we were deposited in the trusty Russian 4wd of Erkah who was to be our guide and driver for the next three days. He spoke little English, about as much as I spoke mongolie but as most of the over 30 population does, he had a fair smattering of Russian. SO to the beautiful strains of 'How deep is your Love' and, surprisingly, 'Especially for You' we set off to Khakhorin, ancient capital of the Khans. There are about two thousand kilometres of sealed road in Mong, however you have to remember that sealed is merely an adjective and the reality is that more comfortable driving is to be had on either the gravel shoulder or, as is more usual, about fifty meters away from the road. We bounced along for six hours along and beside the road before making a definitive veer towards a spectacular mountain range. We hadn't asked to go there but we were doing well just going with the flow. We ended up at a ger at the foot of the mountains owned by some friends of his, a wizened old couple and their grandchildren. And their satellite tv and solar power. Unlike the family we stayed with in Terelj, this was most definitely the real thing and after a refreshing cup of mare's milk tea we were told that we would be sleeping on the floor and did we have sleeping bags. We did back in UB and it feels great to lug something half way round the globe and not have it the only night you need it. But as it can get freezing fairly regularly there was no shortage of blankets and the goat dung fire was well stoked all night. Up in the mountains we visited a monastery which, in Mongolia, guarantees it to be a pile of rubble and you will get to hear how many monks the Russians killed. It was a very pretty pile of rubble as those silly enough to ask to see all our photos will soon be able to confirm.

After a much nicer meal of mutton and noodles and a good nights floor sleeping we were off to the ancient city of kharkhorin and the monastery of Erdne Zhu, built on and with the ruins of the former. We went via the mini Gobi, a bizarre strip of desert that runs from china to Russia. Erkah said that you get the idea and if you see that, there's no real need to go to the big one. Point taken, pictures snapped and away we went.

The monastery looks imposing on approach with its 150 stuppes on the walls (white pointy Buddhist things). And the lack of trees made it hard to see that it was fucking windy and cold but as soon as our guided tour (unwittingly bought with the price of entry) began we felt it. Like everywhere else, the Russians destroyed most of it but the Manchus had made a decent fist of destroying the city before that, leveling it to the ground. Also much of the city and palaces had been gers. Big gers that could seat 300 comfortably but wool felt doesn't stand the test of time too well. It was pretty and striking but there was the sense of familiar about the temples and a sense of 'mmm, yes that flat bit of ground would have been really something if the tent and the silver fountain that squirted mare's milk, yak's milk and mead were still standing or even in ruins. It does look great though and the stone turtle marking the boundary of the ancient city makes for a great picture. We had planned to stay in the town for a night but on realizing that the modern town is a complete hole we decided to head back to the mountains, but not before taking in the final offerings of the area. A modern monument shows the mongol empire at the height of it's glory and gave us a great view of the approaching dust storm. Then, mid dust storm, with only about 3 metres visibility, erkah got us to the famed penis rock. We had assumed that it was a rock naturally shaped like a penis, instead we found a two foot high granite equivalent of what everyone has made out of clay at least once. It really looked like a penis, so much so that I was bemused that Erkah felt the need to pat my crotch to illustrate to me what it was, but i added it to the list of countries I have been felt up in and off we drove.

I would agree that it was very funny that we had said goodbye and had come back again, like the grandma thought, but we found it funnier to be sitting in the ger drinking our mare's milk happily when four Swiss tourists drove up to see a genuine family and their ger and found us. But after the hilarity had died down and we and the kids had a great kite flying session it was our bedtime, not the four year olds because it was still light. In the morning we said our goodbyes, laughed at jokes in mongolie that we would be back tonight and went on our way. Back to the civilization of UB and the train, now Russian, and the next stop....

The Oddessey - Part Three

China...

From the dirty streets of Shanghai to the heights of the holiest mountains, from the majestic villas of the Summer Palace to the back streets of the hutong in Beijing. Unified before the rest of the world could spell it, majestic in its opulence, tragic in its revolutions. I love it all. The Chinese love it all. We all love it all. The only difference between us is I don't throw my shit everywhere and spit on it and make it look like a tip. But enough of that, on with the adventure.

Shanghai is grand, despite the excellent pickpockets. The spectacle of the Chinese government trying to prove that they can have an economic success without a century of English rule is truly a sight to behold. Apparently multi story office blocks go from concept to construction in three weeks sometimes. I think the meetings must go along the lines of 'we want it to look like it is from Buck Rogers' or 'that's great, now can you just add a dome to it?'. We stepped out of our hotel, the oldest western hotel in shangers, and wandered the streets in awe of the city that was and the city it has become. The shock of being introduced to Chinese taxi driving was major and the four of us, Jo, Russ, Sandles and I, took it in turns to be in the front, in the thick of it. Much could be written about Shangers and much has. I will say this. The Bund Tourist Tunnel is more than a little underwhelming. It has the feel of a major grade four art project gone horribly wrong. Then you remember you have to get it back the other way.

Shanghai introduced us the movie star phenomenon that is being white. As we have travelled through the land, so far there are about 20 photos of us standing with people we have never met before making their way into albums various. Our main hiccup, wallet aside was that we had to get on a train to Huang Shan a few days earlier than we had planned. But we accepted that we had got the gist of the town and could part on OK terms.

With people telling horror stories of trains in china we approached the station nervously, only to find, like so much of the advice about china, the train was fine. Hard sleeper is a great way to travel. As usual, people are down to their long johns in no time and the top bunk of three is high, but you are out of the way and quiet. There is the obligatory smoking but that was confined mainly to the doorways, and much hocking up phlegm which is as common as breathing. Morning came and we got off the train at Tungxi and had our first true Chinese travel experience, the touts. In the hurry to get our next tickets booked, we missed the cheap tourist buses to Huang Shan (Mountain. In Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. Get it out) and were left with one option, Steve. Steve had been trying to get us onto his bus for 10 yuan each earlier and showing us his book of recommendations from tourists but we thought we were cleverer than that. So by the time we had all our tickets for the next train, we realised that we weren't in fact that clever and now had no option but to take Steve's taxi for 23 yuan each. Stung by that Steve told us that we were both stupid for booking a hostel over the internet without haggling, and clever and he liked us because we haggled for the fare, and by the way we could have a hotel room for 70 yuan for a twin with bathroom (as opposed to 140 yuan at the hostel without) just take a look and then I'll take you to your hostel. We were as lambs to his slaughterhouse. But the hotel was great and the strange man-child Mr Hu that Steve told us was his good friend and we should eat at his place stuck to us like a limpet until we relented. Thankfully his wife's cooking was excellent.

Our attack of the mountain was less good. Our fit friends sped off ahead, leaving us sweating and gasping and bitching all the way to the top. Our first Chinese mountain gave us a taste of what was to come. Looking out over the extraordinarily beautiful mountains, serenaded with the dulcet tones of 8 tour guides with megaphones and a couple of hundred Chinese tourists. So after savouring the view for a while it was down the mountain and back to Tungxi for an early train to Tai An, taxi and hotel of course arranged by Steve and chaperoned by Steve's wife.

On the train at 5:40 am, off again at midnight. Hotel tout, etc.

Tai An is a great little town at the foot of Tai Shan, holiest mountain of the five holy Taoist mountains. Big temple, lovely. Cheap hotel, but of course. and an undercover food market that negated any exercise and mountain climbing for less than Australian dollar for us both. I should point out that unless you are a strange outcast student type with more money than sense to spend on zany western style outdoors ware, mountain climbing Chinese style involves climbing well made stone stairs, full business suit not required but a good choice. There are 6,666 steps in Tai Shan. We did about half before sandle's cold and my fitness suggested we take a cable car. We did. Tai Shan has a mere 8 hotels, restaurants and temples and the requisite overnight stay for sunrise watching can safely be shared with about eight hundred other visitors, mainly Chinese, which guarantees an American beauty style sunrise of flying plastic bags, with the obligatory jostling and spitting. Sunrise over, we walked down the mountain, pretending to all that were climbing that we did it yesterday and yes it's a hard slog but well worth it. Mountain done, off to Beijing, city without a good nickname.

Beijing is great. Don't approach it by overnight train in a seat if you have a cold. It's not fun. We arrived at our hostel at 5:30 am to find it was 4 floors underground and a dump. So we walked the streets for an entire block before a hotel tout found us and by 6:30 we were in a lovely hotel above ground. We did what one does in Beijing, sit in Tienanmen Square and think of the students, look at the picture of Mao and think of the irreparable damage he did to the country, think we could knock over the Forbidden City in an hour and find out we were dead wrong, eat, haggle for clothes and shoes, all this and more. We walked the Great wall which is truly great, if totally useless. We saw extraordinary acrobats for peanuts. We smelled extraordinary smells as the sewers heated up of an afternoon, and we ate ducks cooked in such bizarre ways. Then May week hit. Don't go to China in may week. That is unless you are agoraphobic, in which case you can safely venture into the largest spaces without ever having more than six inches of space around you. We took in the summer palace and created our mantra, it would be great if there were no people here. Anne came and showed us five star arty life and showed us how to haggle properly. Then with too much shopping and not enough shopping time, we were off.

30 hours later, Mongolia........

The Oddessey - Part Two

It begins, as all travels should, on a boat....

Well actually before the boat we travelled Japan, taking in the famous bathing monkeys at Yudanaka, the castle at Himeji, the A-bomb site in Hiroshima and more god damned Cherry Blossoms than you can poke a stick at in Kyoto. We hadn't realised when we were planning the trip that we would be in Kyoto during the 2 week long cherry blossom season. They are indeed pretty, and even the most hardened cynic will end up with four hundred photos of them, standing in front of them, close ups of them, wide shots of them over the canal down the Philosophers walk, etc. And the tranquil atmosphere of a couple of thousand Japanese tourists doing the same makes one feel that their photos are going to be unique and special.

Kyoto also introduced us to the "no the floor of my old office is a valid double room please don't touch the accounting books" style of accommodation. It was a bed and with the whole cherry blossom thing on we were probably lucky to get it. From there we went to Hiroshima just to stay at a hostel someone told us about. It is this bizarre 3 star hotel/'youth house' on top of a modern arts complex. Very strange, very plush, very cheap. Then we came to Osaka.

Osaka is much grungier than most Japanese cities, with a lot more visible homeless and crazy people. Maybe it is because it is a port town, who knows, but it is still the Japanese brand of homeless. Polite, helpful and quiet. We did the things one does in Osaka, go up big scary buildings, eat the local delicacy, Octopus Balls, which I can only describe as a hot bag of pus that breaks open in your mouth to reveal chunks of octopus. This from the people who eat fermented off soybeans, go figure.

It seemed that the very notion of travelling to china on a boat was foreign to the booking office we had to go to, but an hour and a half later with much frustration vented on staff, we were booked. That Sandles and I filled out completely different forms seemed inconsequential to convincing them that there was indeed a boat and yes they sold the tickets for it. So much for Sino-Japanese relations. But with ticket in hand, we made our way to the international ferry terminal and

It begins, as all travels should, on a boat....

We boarded thinking that we were the only westerners on a boat full of Chinese, In the terminal they had said that Sandles and I would be in the same room but when we boarded we were told no mixed rooms. But what do you do. Shortly after that we met Jo and Rus, two brits who also thought they were the only westerners on the boat and had also been told they had a shared room. So we had company in our separate boys and girls rooms. They were also doing the Trans-Mong and had been in Japan for a fortnight. We became fast friends sharing our love of crazy Japanese things and wonderous toilets. Then a couple more westerners arrived and it was clear that the chinese run boat had created a nice little ghetto for us pale devils. In good chinese fashion, as soon as they had boarded, many had either stripped down to their long johns or changed into pyjamas and had begun hanging their washing out. As soon as we cast off from the pier, the ping pong table was out and its dulcet thwacks resounded until we docked at shanghai.

On a side note, if you don't like smoking, or if you are from Melbourne and have forgotten what smoking in resteraunts was like, don't go to Asia, and don't do anything with lot's of Chinese. From boarding, a thick hase settled throughout the boat. Most places have ashtrays in the toilets here and my personal favourite was finding a new fag in the shower that someone had unsuccessfully placed in the hope that they could light up the moment the shower was over. I love them to a man but jesus. There was a non smoking room on the boat which had less people smoking than other places. Emma, an american girl studying in Nanjing asked them to stop smoking on the second day and the response was 'Why? We like it.'

Anyway, the boat set sail, lunch was called and we all headed up. There was a cafeteria style room and a fancy restraunt style room. Try as we might, we were never allowed in the caff. But we soon worked out we got the same food in the other side so no biggie. After promenading for a while on the top decks it was time to change into the lounge suits and head for dinner. As with all our meals, though we saw Chinese tables with different food, we were only ever allowed a set meal, but they war all great so no complaints there. Beer was stupidly cheap so we began toasting our respective voyages quite often. Then the room darkened and we learned that it was Karaoke time for the tour group. We were quite merry, with Jo, Russ and I pollishing off long necks with ease and sandles nursing a bottle of Great Wall Red. Lot's of cheering at the end of songs, lots of clapping the few who danced, lots more drinking. By that stage, Emma and her friend Ashley had joined us so we began to learn to count in Chinese. Fun. All of a sudden a familiar sound was heard, as a nod to us, the tour leader had put on an english song so we joined the group for a truly stirring rendition of Edelwiess, the Karaoke video of London, Amsterdam, dolphins and powerboats perfectly complementing the collective feeling in the air. This is what turned us from the table to take photos with, into the fairground attraction and best friends forever with anyone who felt like it table, particularly the Tour Leader who graciously said that for the rest of the night, he would buy the drinks. And there was only one drink. A saucy little chinese beer called REEB. 2 parts formaldehyde, one part colour, one part fizz, 10% alchohol and all taste. The rest of the night went swimmingly. I danced, Jo and I became the tour leader's special friends and I played some very drunk ping pong doubles.

After a late drinking session with a chinese news crew on the tour and us all running out to look at the blackness of the night (a black only the seafarers amongst you can know) I woke up in a toilet and staggered back to bed.

The next day was seedy to say the least and that night, the tour leader tried hard to get the crowd started but it wasn't to be. He did however get drunk enough to challenge Russell to a few fights for Jo's hand, and fondle my breasts and crotch and tell me he loved me and I was Mr Number one. When that wouldn't keep us there, he told me a girl loved me to but it didn't work.

The next morning we began sailing upriver and into Shanghai. It is a great way to arrive in a city and the terminal was drab but fast.

Most of you know what happened on that first night in Shangers so I wont repeat it.

I am out of internet time now dear readers so I shall leave you gasping for the next thrilling installment which takes us from Shanghai, to the beauty of Huang Shan and Tai Shan and thence to Beijing and beyond. Til then,

Cheers,

Toby