To outline one of the longest flights I have ever been on, the only term that comes to mind is uncomfortable. Between eating cold eggs and soggy potatoes or greasy noodles and some sort of cold vegetables, I would almost always take the small teabag sized corn-chip bag.
The airport in Beijing was like a small village covered by a dome. This airport was also one of the most strict with passport pictures, I have encountered yet.
When we had finally boarded our small plane to head up to Ulaanbaatar we were greeted with what seemed like a small verbal fight (it was spoken in a different language). It was between a man with 2 stripes on the shoulders of his uniform, and a businessman, over why the businessman’s luggage would not fit in the over head compartment. The food on this flight was something we will call, mystery sandwiches. I still don’t know what was on that third sandwich I nearly finished.
Upon finally landing in Ulaanbaatar, Steve and myself were greeted by a hoard of cabby vultures. Once Steve and I caught our bearings we decided to get an overly charismatic, middle aged cab-vulture to drive us to our new home (hostel) in Mongolia. I took the front seat not knowing what to expect. We started our cab ride out just fine but soon we got a taste of true Mongolian driving habits. Just 2 minutes in, our cab-vulture explained how there was an accident up ahead. He did this using his 2 hands and smashing them together. Keep in mind he did this while driving. At the spot of the crash there was a very brave police officer guiding traffic like you would see back in Canada. However our cabby greeted that police officer with a barrage of about 9 horn honks. Steve and I now realize when driving in Mongolia it is common to honk your horn at any one trying to merge into traffic and also any pedestrians. If you try to cross the street the drivers simply speed up and honk at you. There are virtually no traffic lines here. And to find a crosswalk is very rare.
After steve and I got some tugrig (Mongolian money) at a money exchange we then ended up at our hostel. This is where the cab-vulture dropped his bomb. The ride cost us double because he claimed he didn’t understand our terms when we first got in the cab. Basically we paid him to drive us to the hostel and also for him to drive back to the airport alone. Lesson learned there. So 30 dollars American later we were trying to relax in our hostel.
Finally ending our day having a few beers at a small pub.
