Chasing a dream

Sunday March 18, 2012

Having grown up in a warm country almost every mundane “cold weather” phenomenon fascinates me. I still get a huge thrill seeing snow, for example. However one natural occurrence exclusively seen in cold countries has captured my imagination above all else – the aurora.

Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights as it is also known in the English speaking world, is a magical shimmering light show seen in the night sky in regions close to the north pole. It is caused by solar winds being deflected by the earth’s magnetic field.

Although there is the “Southern Lights” – the Aurora Australis – Australia is not located sufficiently south for it to be seen easily. The aurora would certainly be never be seen in my home town of Sydney, where we are so far away from the south pole that a typical winter day is a gentle 17 degrees Celsius (63 degrees Fahrenheit).

Ever since I was a boy I craved the aurora. They’re swathes of green curtains fluttering in the dark night sky, as if the Gods were making their beds? How can such an amazing marvel exist? Descriptions and photos of it seemed otherworldly. It defied belief. In fact it all sounded so wondrous it felt fictional – as if someone was making it all up as a joke on gullible fools.

That little boy was determined that as soon as he had the means he would travel to the ends of the world to seek out the Northern Lights.

Kilpisjarvi, Finland - even the village web site says it's the middle of nowhere!

Twenty years later I’m writing this from the far north of Finland. I’ve travelled all the way round to the other side of the globe to be in the village of Kilpisjarvi, just 10km from the point where Finland, Norway and Sweden meet. It’s sixty-nine degrees north, about 400km within the Arctic Circle. From research I know 2012 is the best in a dozen years to see the aurora, and that March and September are the most suitable months of the year. I cannot be in a better position.

Despite all this preparation, exasperatingly, seeing the Northern Lights depends overwhelmingly on luck. For one the weather has to be fine, as clouds will obscure any light show. And of course one cannot practically stay up all night looking up at the sky in freezing temperatures – the success of the aurora hunter is dependent on the lights occurring while the watcher is awake and outside.

I have done all I can. The boy is here. Please let it come.

Beijing To Ulaanbaatar The Hard Way

Saturday February 25, 2012

As a US citizen my friend James did not require a visa to enter Mongolia. However I had to ask for an express tourist visa at the consulate in Beijing, for a hefty bill of $80. Upon application it was apparent I would not be able to pick up my passport until Tuesday afternoon.

The international train to Ulaanbaatar departed Beijing on the same afternoon so we said to ourselves "Let's catch the Chinese sleeper bus to the border later in the week and try to board a local train from there."

Let the trouble begin.

I'm unsure if sleeper buses are common in other countries but this was the first time I'd experienced one. It was amusing to see forty people crammed in to three levels of very narrow bunks in a coach that otherwise looks normal from the outside. We departed Beijing at 4pm, but James and I were not entirely sure what time we'd arrive in the border town of Erlian.

Chinese sleeper bus

The answer: 2:30am. What were we to do arriving at a deserted bus station at an ungodly hour, not knowing anyone, not knowing where to go? Fortunately a Mongolian couple on the bus had seen James read an English book and engaged him in conversation. They were also going to Ulaanbaatar too so were happy for us to follow them.

The first step was to hop on to the back of a ute. The Mongolian couple, James and I sat on our luggage and held on for our lives, hoping not to fall out of the truck. As I lost feeling in my fingers and face I asked James "How cold do you think it is, -20C?" He had no answer, likely because he was unable to move any part of his body.

The ute took us to a local motel where we could put our heads down for four hours. We would meet with our Mongolian guardians at breakfast and they would pursue a way for us to get across the border.

The next morning there was a concern that due to the Mongolian New Year holidays we would not be obtain train tickets to Ulaanbaatar. We tagged along with the Mongolian couple as they searched all over Erlian looking for train tickets. After all the leads failed it was apparent we’d have to cross the border not knowing whether we'd be stranded.

The jeep that took us across the China-Mongolia border.
left to right: James, Oyuna, Baatar

The border crossing was an event in itself as a small jeep with four seats squeezed in eight people, along with our luggage. Everyone had someone sitting on their lap! I was sitting on James' lap with my head perpendicular to my body - the driver's warning that the door may fling open any minute intensified the thrill. My apologies to James' girlfriend for getting to know him in the jeep in ways that no other person should.


After a tense standoff at the Chinese emigration desk where the officers somehow didn't believe that I was Australian, we finally strolled into Mongolia. We wearily headed to the railway station, still without train tickets.

At the station it was a mad scramble for tickets. Tourists and locals alike were desperate to secure a seat but with the New Year holidays demand far outstripped supply, and the allocation seemed arbitrary. There was one South Korean backpacker who had been stranded for two days and finally managed to get a ticket – whereupon he yelled in glee and hugged everyone in sight.

After persistent hustling the Mongolian couple managed to secure two tickets. They suggested we play the tourist "pity" angle to solicit tickets from the saleswoman.

I tried twice and James tried once but the lady at the ticket window firmly denied us. No tickets.

Oyuna, the female half of our guiding couple, then decided drastic action was needed. She confronted the ticket window with some venom, and although James and I can’t understand Mongolian we were left with little doubt as the debate escalated into shouting:

Ticket window lady: “I told you there are no more tickets. Go away.”
Oyuna: “Rubbish, I know you have contingency tickets back there! These foreigners have come all the way from Australia and America and have reservations to meet in Ulaanbaatar. Give them tickets now!”
Ticket window lady: “I don’t care where they’re from. There are no more tickets!”
Oyuna: “Don’t lie, I saw you give those people tickets just now! You can’t leave tourists stranded here at the border. Get typing and hand over two tickets!”
Ticket window lady: “Fine, I can give them two separate single seats. You’re a pain in the backside.”

Victory! Oyuna’s fury had saved us from being stuck in the middle of the desert. I was very impressed – it seemed Mongolian women get what they want! James and I couldn’t hide our delight.

The train ride itself was an immediate immersion into Mongolian life and people. Obviously there were no spare seats, and the seats themselves were very uncomfortable – benches with minimal padding and perpendicular walls as support. There were children scrambling up and down the aisle, elderly folk in traditional clothing, and families snacking.

The train ride to Ulaanbaatar went on for an insufferable seventeen hours. James and I were separated by three carriages – fortunately in my carriage I was able to secure a bench to endure the trip supine.

Finally - Ulaanbaatar railway station!

James was not so lucky, with his carriage remaining packed to the brim for the entire length of the journey. It was no wonder as soon as we landed at Ulaanbaatar he declared “I can’t do that again, Tony. I have to buy an international sleeper train back to Beijing”. Purchasing James’ return ticket was the first thing we did in UB.

It wasn’t all a loss though. The local passengers treated James very well – plenty of homemade dumplings were shared around and they even dressed him up in traditional Mongolian garb. Initially they thought James was a Kazakh. Jagshemash!

In the Internet age when information travels in milliseconds from one side of the world to another James and I proved sending humans across adjacent countries can still take an arduous forty-two hour trip.

Intersection of China, Russia, and North Korea

Saturday February 11, 2012

In an earlier blog post I ranted on about how cosmopolitan Harbin was. But I now regret that description.

While Harbin is genuinely proud of its multicultural roots, it is exactly that - a legacy. Current day Harbin is dominated by the Chinese Han population, and there are literally no Russian or Jewish people living there. The buildings and museums are all that remains of their contribution.

Then this week I discovered Hunchun.

Hunchun is the major city in the narrow wedge of China squeezed in between Russia and North Korea. As I type this I'm just 20km from the former and 10km from the latter. We're about 100km as the crow flies from Vladivostok, the remote Siberian port city made famous in Australia by a Tim Tam advertisement.

Hunchun: Trilingual signs illuminate an avenue of karaoke joints.

Being in such a strategic location Hunchun is cosmopolitan right here right now. While it lacks the obvious architectural icons of Harbin there are actual European Russian people living here, alongside ethnic Koreans, and the Han Chinese. There are old Babushka ladies eating toffee fruit on sticks! All the shop signs are trilingual - Cyrillic, Korean, Chinese.

The hotel that I'm staying at seems to be especially popular with Russians - at breakfast I was the only oriental customer in the dining room. On the streets there are Eastern European ladies strutting around, and burly Russian blokes being all burly.

South of the city is a village named Fangchuan, which is where China stops (!). The place is set on a hill and on a clear day from the same spot you can face west and see North Korea then swivel to the east to see Russian territory. On a very good day one can even enjoy a vista of the Sea Of Japan off the Russian coast.

Terrific, I'd love to visit! In fact that's what most tourists come to Hunchun for. My guide Mr Urm and I made the drive towards this geopolitical wonder.

Checkpoint near Hunchun on the road leading
out to Russia.

We reached an ominous looking military checkpoint about 20km short of Fangchuan. Mr Urm had to show his identification but the trouble began when they asked for my papers. When they saw from my Australian passport that I was a foreigner, my guide and the soldier began a vigorous debate.

We were denied entry. Or specifically I was denied entry.

The story is that when Kim Jong Il passed away in December, South Korean television news vans camped in Fangchuan to point their cameras into North Korea to record the reaction.

Who knew the North Korean authorities would be sensitive about that sort of thing?! They immediately requested Fangchuan be closed to foreigners and the Chinese authorities duly obliged.