Visas, parcels, begging children and Mormons

Day: 10-11

Sunrise:
05:30 h/05:32 h

Sunset:
8:26 pm/20:24 pm

Temperature – Day (maximum):
31 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
22 °C

Temperature – Night:
20 °C

Latitude:
47°55’513”

Longitude:
106°55’559”

Maximum height:
1315 m above sea level

The days go by at breakneck speed. We work every day from morning until late at night to organize everything as quickly as possible. While Tanja is back at the authorities with Tagi to pick up her work permit, I sit here and feed yesterday’s pictures into the computer. That is a massive amount of work. Although I have been working with the archiving program for years, it has changed again since the new update and takes some getting used to. These days I often think back to my early years of traveling when there were no computers. Compared to today, that was a real blessing. As soon as we went abroad, we hardly had any contact with our home country. For example, to make a phone call from India to Germany, we had to register a call at the main post office. The minimum time was three minutes. The minute cost about 3 or 4 US$. So we made very few phone calls because of the high costs. Even back then, I wrote a lot to document everything we experienced and learned. But I used a fountain pen, a small jar of ink and bad paper. That’s how I filled my first seven books. Today I sit there with a high-tech laptop, have to master various programs and bang away at the keys. On the one hand an advantage because the ink doesn’t dry out, on the other hand a massive disadvantage because I always need power and because laptops and the associated technology are highly sensitive and expensive. Well, time is also changing rapidly in this area and those who don’t keep up with it are left standing still. Standing still undoubtedly means going backwards, and as Tanja and I always enjoy taking one step in front of the other in order to discover unexplored new territory for ourselves and to keep learning, we go with progress and don’t resist it.

Tanja often makes me delicious pancakes for breakfast. Knowing that I won’t be able to get such delicacies for a very long time, I enjoy them with a big appetite. Today we set off early to meet Tagi at the immigration office. To our great joy, after 1 1/2 years of work we finally have our valuable work permit in our pockets. Now it’s just a matter of showing them to the immigration authorities to get the one-year visa I’ve been waiting for.

Just like at the vehicle registration office in Germany, we have to take a number and then queue up at one of the many counters. Unfortunately, many Mongolians don’t pay attention to the numbers and simply push their way in. Some officials don’t seem to care too much about the number either and serve the tailgaters. “We’ll do it the same way,” I decide and stand at a counter with a much lower number on the display than I have in my hand. “Please wait until your number appears on the display,” says the civil servant somewhat sourly, pointing to the large electronic display with his index finger. I refrain from discussing right and wrong with him and we get back in line. An hour later, it’s our turn. We proudly and somewhat nervously hand all our papers to the gentleman behind the glass. This is followed by a brief inspection of the paper mill and our faces. “Please go to the bank and deposit 76,000 tugrik (€44) per person”. “Where’s the bank?” I ask. Over there,” he says kindly, pointing to an adjoining room. Relieved not to have to drive back into the city, we make our way to the next room. We hand over the papers the official has given us and pay 152,000 Tugrik (88,- €). When you consider that you have to work for 180,000 Tugrik for a month in Mongolia, that’s another small fortune.

With the deposit slip, we go to another adjoining room. There we are photographed again, even though we have submitted at least four passport photos each. Then each of our 10 fingers is scanned and stored in the computer under the picture we have just taken. With the printout of our fingerprints and picture, we make our way back to the counter. We wait patiently until the official asks us to hand over our passports, the deposit slip and the new documents. “They can pick up their passports in ten days,” we hear, delighted and terrified at the same time. “In ten days? Can’t we leave earlier? We have to leave urgently,” we ask and plead. “Where do they have to go?” he wants to know. “To our employer in the small town of Mörön,” we reply, because we don’t think it makes sense to talk about our expedition. “Well, you have to pay 12,500 tugrik (€7) for the express service, then you can pick up your passport in five days,” we hear and are relieved. We are just about to leave the counter when the man asks: “What are you actually doing in Mörön?” “That’s where the NGO we work for is.” “What kind of NGO is that?” “It works to improve conditions in Mongolia’s prisons, to reintegrate prisoners into society and other social projects. We support this NGO by reporting on this area of Mongolia,” I tell them. The official looks at us, smiles a little and tells us that we don’t have to pay a service charge under these conditions.

As we are on our way back to the city center, Ganbold calls. “Two more parcels have arrived. If you like, we can meet at the main post office in half an hour to pick them up together,” he offers. “It’s going great. Now we’ve got our annual visa and two more parcels have arrived,” I cheer as the bus struggles towards the city on an unpaved, clay-gravel road. The fine dust and smoke from the various industrial chimneys seeps into the hot bus. People cough and spit. No wonder that many people here in the U.B. suffer from allergies and eye diseases. We arrive at the main post office shaken and completely dusty. The official wants €100 duty for the parcels. Ganbold argues with the stubborn and annoying woman. He then has to confirm in writing that he does not wish to resell the goods and receives the parcels for €50. We pay and bring the well-traveled freight to our apartment. As thanks we give Ganbold 55,000 Tugrik (32,- €) which he gladly takes. Even though many things are cheaper in Mongolia than in Germany, the running costs eat into our budget early on. The larger investments such as horses, horse-drawn carts, salaries for our companions, food, yurt for the winter and so on are still pending. We have to make sure we keep an overview financially.

Before I set off again with Tagi and Ulzii to run more errands, we open the parcels and are delighted with the food from Rapunzel and the energy box from Tedilo. Now we should be able to charge all our technology with solar and the clever wind turbine,” I say and check the contents. I immediately place two solar panels on the balcony and connect them to the energy box that Gedatt, the owner of Tedilo, has built especially for us. “Looks good,” I say to Tanja as the charging lights flash.

A little later, I set off again. As it’s already afternoon and our companions Tagi, Ulzii and I haven’t had anything to eat all day, I invite them to a small restaurant. As soon as the food is brought in, poor street children come in to beg. Tagi sends them away but none of the eight to twelve-year-old boys react. They slowly approach our table, stare hungrily at the steaming plates and hold out their hands. I am aware that it would be absolutely wrong to open my wallet here to give something to the children. This does not help them because the money is often spent on alcohol by the parents. There are social organizations in the U.B. and Mongolia that work to improve the living conditions of the poorest. Support would be appropriate here. But here and now? Embarrassed, I look at my plate and feel the stares of the little street gang. In the corner of my eye I see their torn clothes and dirty faces. Most of them live in the city’s canal system. Especially in winter, they survive down there through the leaking district heating pipes. I look into the room to see how the locals react. Nobody seems to take any notice of the kids. Everyone eats their lunch in comfort. Suddenly a Mongolian apparently feels disturbed and shouts something I can’t understand. The poor creatures immediately whirl outside and disappear.

Ulzii and Tagi then take me to a kind of department store where all kinds of cars are on sale. There are countless small stores in the large building. Everyone has a different owner and everyone offers something. In such a tiny store, car batteries are piled up to the ceiling. Thanks to Tagi’s translation skills, I can manage an 80 Amp. car battery that we need as a backup for our energy box. As the thing is heavy as lead, we take it in turns to carry it through the city. During other purchases, such as gas for my small gas soldering iron, electric pliers, insulating tape, silicone to seal the Zargesbox, etc., Tagi’s, Ulzii’s or my cell phone keeps ringing. “Oh, that’s good,” says Tagi. A friend has time to take you and the equipment to Erdenet in his minibus,” he says, ending the conversation with satisfaction. “What does he want for the ride?” I ask. “264,000 Tugrik (€151) including diesel,” replies Tagi. Since all other previous offers were 300,000 Tugrik and more, this is a good price. No sooner have we dragged the battery and the other shopping to our apartment than the driver turns up with his minibus. “My name is Tsag,” the driver introduces himself in very good English and shows us his minibus. “Well, the tires don’t exactly look trustworthy,” I say, pointing to the completely worn tread. “Oh, that’s no problem. I have a spare tire with me. Apart from that, I only ride tires with inner tubes for safety reasons. They don’t deflate so quickly,” the friendly Tsag tries to reassure us. “Do you think we can drive 400 km through Mongolia in a car like this?” wonders Tanja. “I don’t think the other minibuses look any better. I think the man and his vehicle are okay,” I reply. During the conversation with Tsag, it turns out that he worked as a missionary in Russia for two years and, like Tagi, is an avowed Mormon. We arrange our departure from U.B. in six days for 9:00 am. “I will accompany you to Erdenet and help you find good horses,” says Tagi. “Oh, that would be fantastic. It will be much easier with your translation,” I say happily.

After a long day of organizing, we go to the Piano Lounge in the evening where the German ambassador is officially bid farewell today. We are among the first guests and find a nice spot in the modern bar. Later, a young man approaches us. “Aren’t you the well-known adventurers?” “How do they know us?” I wonder. He reports that word gets around quickly in Mongolia. In the course of the interesting conversation, we learn that he has been here for two years, works at the bank and is hosting the farewell ceremony for the ambassador this evening.

When the ambassador Mr. Fischer arrives, he is greeted with applause. There are many speeches of thanks. He then visits each table to exchange a few words with those present. “And what brings them to Mongolia?” he wants to know. We tell him about our plans and he suddenly listens with great interest. “You lead a wonderful life there. If you need help, give me a call,” he offers us and hands us his business card. As we are about to leave, the president of the Mongolian-German Bridge stops us briefly and asks for our contact. “When you are back in the U.B., please be sure to give me a call. I’m very interested to hear about your experiences in my country,” he says.

We look forward to your comments!