UB traffic

 Ulaanbataar has grown exponentially over the last decade. Apartment towers sprout up everywhere, 15+ stories tall, and the traffic is epic. It can take nearly an hour to cover a mile.

Mid day yesterday, we learned that the person who needed to sign our collection permits is himself out in the field and left no one to sign in his absence. Uh oh. We couldn’t get the border patrol approval to even be in the southern desert or collect any animals without that permit. So Auggie called in a favor, of many thus far. His former teacher is head of the office that we needed to get the permission, so he did a quick change into his suit in the back of the van and drove into the part of town with the government office. Drove, if that’s what you call it. More like slowly slid between and around the obstructions of other vehicles.

On the way, he tried to reach his brother so that he could take over driving and keep the van moving while he was in the office. He asked if I could drive, and the gung-ho eager to help part of me said “Sure!” But then I realized that it’s not only a great big van but also the steering wheel is on the right. At least they drive on the right, but that’s also weirdly opposite of a right sided steering wheel. And there’s no convention for which side of the car is the driver’s side, because it depends entirely on where the car was manufactured. There’s a Hyundai in front of me right now with the driver on the left.

And then we pulled into a ‘parking lot’, where vehicles pretty much sit where they fit. We looped around a couple of times, squeezing between cars with just an inch to spare on either side. They double park and block one another in. Basically, if other vehicles can continue to navigate the circle around the lot, the cars will park where they can. Auggie reached his brother who was supposed to come, and then he took off. I’d not met his brother, so I was just waiting for some strange guy to turn up and hop in the van. And then he did and backed us into a space that was immediately blocked in by two more vehicles. He just grinned at me and ran off. 

An hour passed and then more. I had been fine and even dozed for a bit until my bladder decided otherwise, and that’s when I saw the museum. The Zanabazar Museum is the oldest fine art museum in Mongolia, and they had a bathroom. I paid 15,000 tugrik (about $4) for a ticket and managed to wander a couple of galleries before Auggie came to tell me that the office closed for lunch. It’s a fabulous little museum with wood cut prints of Buddhist figures, ornamental saddles and harnesses and clothing, and traditional line drawings of local species.

Once we secured the permit and we were ready to go, I thought “how in the world are we getting out of this blocked parking space. Auggie walked up to one of the cars and inspected the dash, and that’s when I saw it - every car has a number on the dash. The phone number of the driver. Apparently this is a thing. The parking is so bad that it’s entirely acceptable to block people in, and you just call the driver when you need to leave. Auggie then showed me the piece on paper on the dash of our own van. 70 70 70 70. That’s the phone number of his friend who runs the transportation business. They’ve been friends since childhood when they used to race cars together, and ‘70’ was his friend’s racing number. He apparently spent $300k US dollars to secure that phone number for his business.

Permits are secured! Chemicals and supplies are ready to go. The team is assembled, and we hit the road at dawn. Or near enough.