Trans-Mongolian: Ulaanbaatar to Beijing
If you'd like to know a bit more about the Trans-Siberian Railway before reading this post, check out my Introduction to the Trans-Siberian.
Train: 043
Type: Passenger
Class: 2nd
Duration: 28 Hours
Time Change: +5 Hours
We set off on the last leg of our trip just before 7:00am, as the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon. And as we watched the vast expanse of the Mongolian desert slowly go from dark to light, it dawned on me we weren't going to experience anything like this again. And then I fell asleep for two hours and woke up to find the view basically unchanged.
Our train from Ulaanbaatar to Beijing was a Mongolian train, with 1st and 2nd class Chinese carriages attached. And while the 1st class carriages looked lovely, the 2nd class carriages lacked both the charm and style of the Mongolian trains, as well as the cleanliness and comfort of the Russian ones.
We spent our last full day aboard the Trans-Mongolian doing what we usually do–drinking beer and chatting with other travellers in the dining car. And while every other dining car up until this leg had been somewhere between utilitarian and charming, the Mongolian car was the romantic ideal of a Trans-Siberian train–with intricately carved teak walls, brightly coloured tablecloths, and plush seats covered in deep red and gold brocade. It was like traveling back in time. Or into another world.
Except for the loud Texan tourists who accosted us as soon as we sat down.
We made our way out of the fairy tale and back to the reality of our dingy compartment around dinner time, only to find the entire carriage filled with thick, hot coal smoke. After (unsuccessfully) trying to open every window in the carriage, we closed our door, wrapped scarves around our faces, and waited for the smoke to pass. And then we noticed that our carriage attendant was also chain-smoking cigarettes.
Our last night aboard the train was much like every other night, which is to say: hot, cramped, noisy, and (at this point) very much like home. Were it not for the smoke that continued to snake its way under our doorway throughout the night, it would have been the perfect end to a pretty perfect journey.
We arrived in Beijing without any fanfare, excited to get off the train and breathe in the (relatively) fresh air of the city. We said goodbye to a few people we had met on board the train, found an ATM and some snacks, and made our way to our hotel. And with that, our Trans-Mongolian trip was over.
With the benefit of hindsight and some time to reflect, the trip seems both more extraordinary and entirely more ordinary at the same time. It wasn't the silver screen version of train travel that I had previously associated with the Trans-Siberian. There was no fine dining. There were no lavish parties or fancy train cars. The toilets were dirty and the beds were uncomfortable. And for the most part, it was very very hot.
But we got to meet so many wonderful people going about their regular lives. And we got to see entire countries pass by outside our window, with nothing to do except take it in. You don't often get the luxury of doing absolutely nothing, because when there are other options, doing nothing seems inadequate. But when those other options are taken away, it becomes extremely rewarding.
So I'm thankful that this trip gave us the opportunity to slow down and truly appreciate the value of doing nothing. I'm thankful to all the people we met along the way who talked to us about their history, culture, and ambitions. I'm thankful to have so much more appreciation for Russia–for the food, the immense beauty of the countryside, and the people. And I'm thankful to have gotten just a taste of Mongolia, a country that far surpassed my expectations in just a few days.
And mostly I'm thankful that we don't have anymore 36-hour train rides left.
