J

Hi, all. Steven told me that someone was wondering what "J" was doing in UB while Ellen went to Western Mongolia, so Here I Am, in the flesh, at his urging, to tell you. Day 1: Ellen left, I locked the door to keep out rampaging Mongolian hordes (Ghenghis was famous for once pouring molten silver in an enemy's eyes), and slept for 8 hours. Woke occassionally to cough my lungs up. Roused myself for one hour at night and watched on TV a vampire movie beamed in from Singapore dubbed into Russian, or perhaps it was the other way around. Went back to sleep. Day 2: Sleep, interrupted by fits of coughing. Started coughing up blood, and freaked out. (See Ellen's earlier references to the Thomas Mann novel.) Wondered what the hell I was doing alone in a hotel in the middle of Central Asia where not a soul knew where I was except for one person who was currently unreachable in the outback of Western Mongolia. Read The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas between naps. Day 3. Woke feeling slightly less intensely ill, and left the lovely hotel Bayan Gol for the first time, in pursuit of my replacement traveler's checks. By the time I'd procured them from the mysterious agent/assistant/representative of American Express (not to be confused with Am Ex as I'd been informed, rather harshly, I might add) I was shaky and sweating and went back to the hotel and bed. Read The Travels of Marco Polo, and realized that most Mongolians live exactly the same way now as they did in the 1300's. (It really is an amazing place--I'm actually dying to go back!) Day 4. Still sick, but suffering intense bouts of a truly life-threatening illness, cabin fever, I ventured out for real. While visiting the Mongolian National Art Museum, I encountered that nice doctor who had given me antibiotics and sheepishly inquired about the coughing up of blood. He looked at me over his reading glasses and asked how soon I could get back to the west, recommending I be tested for TB asap. Went back to hotel feeling like Tuberculoid Mary and ate some strangely delicious Thai Tom Yum Gum (sp?) soup in the "Casablanca" hotel restaurant. Then retired to my room where I read Touching the Void by Joe Simpson. (horrific moutaineering disaster ordeal story that made it clear I was a ridiculous wimp for being bedridden with just TB.) Day 5. Felt better so I got off my deathbed and went to the Mongolian National History Museum. Very cool. Ran down my pathetic battery in a couple hours and went back to bed, shaking and sweating again, with The Bay of Souls by Robert Stone. At sunset (not until 9 PM in UB in August) I was so overcome by desperation at not being with the Kazakhs and the eagle hunter and seeing the Turkik Stones and etc, I began taking photos off the balcony of the hotel, as if trying to make myself feel this view was actually a "sight", and one I hadn't been looking at all day ever day for a week. I'd upload one of my photos here for amusement's sake but I don't know how. Day 6 Spent most of the day preparing for Ellen's return by making expeditions through downtown UB to buy her treats such as "apple strudel" which she loves (but I got the wrong thing, which is why it's in quotes) and etc. And then (cue up "Peaches and Herb") we were reunited and it felt so good. I would officially like to thank Ellen for saving my life twice on this trip by walking through the Gobi desert for help when we were stuck in the flood and finding the doctor who had antibiotics. I'd also like to chime in with resounding praise on her terrific storytelling ability, except to chastise her for leaving out the part where we saw a UFO on our first night in Mongolia. I'd also like address one more comment to Ellen, which is that this is no way our most remote and rough trip we're ever taking because neither of us cried so I don't think we really pushed ourselves. (Well, I maybe cried just a little when the US embassy hung up on me after telling me that there are no western doctors in mongolia, even though Lonely Planet had told me DON'T go to the Mongolian ones because the are into bloodletting as a treatment.) P.S. I don't have TB, very slightly disappointing only because it would have made for a somewhat better story, I think.