--And sometimes tourists are tough
(A tent with a view.)
We slept at all kinds of places on our trip through Mongolia–a backpackers’ hostel, several gers, and a teepee. For about a week we were tent-camping in the remote northern province. In Ulaan Baatar, we stayed at a three star hotel, and in the Gobi we spent five nights at the luxurious Three Camel Lodge, which is a regular stop for high-end tours like National Geographic. No wonder we ran into all kinds of tourists, from hippies camping in their van to wealthy achiever-travelers on deluxe tours.
It’s funny how the most in-your-face tourists are the ones at the most expensive places. The more people pay, the more entitled they feel. And it’s no longer just the “ugly American” like people used to say—now the “ugly” ones came from all over the world. A group of Americans and Europeans stayed at Three Camel Lodge with us. They were learning photography from several “experts” accompanying them. At the local Naadam festival they just walked up and shot people, even close up, as if they were props, with no “please” or “thank you.” (How hard is it to communicate “May I take your picture?” with sign language?) One woman jumped out in front of the oncoming horses at the finish-line to get super action shots, without regard to the hazard to the young riders as their horses shied away from her. Almost as amazing was the wealthy young tourist urging her driver to invest in the stock market. “Find a company you really believe in!” she said (loudly), clueless about the economic realities that face the average Mongolian tour driver. And, at the airport we were treated to one woman’s rant as she reamed out her Mongolian tour guide for not getting her “the best room in the hotel” at the most expensive hotel in UB.
The worst offenders were three Russian businessmen at our hotel in UB. There was a buffet breakfast every morning at 8:30. Our first morning, we arrived at 8:32 to find the three ahead of us in line. The hot dishes included some hotdog-like sausage, some biscuits, and a pile of fried eggs. By the time we got to them, these three guys had about 8 fried eggs each on their plates, and there were only 2 eggs left for the rest of us. It turned out the hotel’s policy was “no refills” for the serving dishes. The next morning, it was the same. We caught on, and lined up the third day at 8:20, so we could get a few eggs before “the Russians” hit the line.
Talking with Mongolians, I learned (to my surprise) that nowadays some of the most unpopular tourists are from South Korea. I guess that’s because foreign travel is new to the older generation of Koreans, and they tend to travel in large groups. In Korea these days, it’s the Chinese who are known as loud and pushy tourists. It’s the same thing: travel abroad is new for most of them.
Of course, I complain about other tourists without knowing what faux pas I may have committed. I do remember the day Shagai, our driver in the Gobi, took us for a visit at his family’s ger. We thought we were communicating with him pretty well even though he didn’t speak English. >From his ger we went to a neighbor’s place and had a ride on their camels. Then he brought us back, and it turned out that his father-in-law had just slaughtered a goat and was butchering it inside the ger. It was late in the day and we only wanted to go back to our lodge. “Don’t you want to have some meat?” they asked (through sign language). There was no way to tell them we were exhausted and I had a cold. And we couldn’t say we just couldn’t face one more bite of goat meat after all the goat we had eaten in the last three weeks. I’ve worried ever since that they slaughtered that goat for us. I’m sure they found use for the meat, but a goat’s a valuable asset. I just hope they had a big party without us!
Some of my happiest memories of the trip are of watching Morley and Pacey negotiate photos with people, and then holding out the camera to display the results. They used a few key words in Mongolian: “hello” and “pretty” and “thank you.” And when people saw pictures of themselves, no one needed any words to share a good laugh.
At the Naadam festival, there was a young European woman with extensive tattoos. She wore a tank top—an exotic enough sight outside of UB—and it showed off the colorful tattoos on her shoulders and arms. She presented a sight-seeing attraction for the locals, and it was fun watching them. People would approach her and pass by without staring. Then, once they were past, they gathered around behind her to get a good look at the tattoos, but discreetly enough that she didn’t even notice. I don’t know what Mongolians are like as world-traveling tourists, but with manners like this, I think they’ll be among the best.
