Category: Mongolia

Three weeks pedaling in Western Mongolia in 2018.

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Reflections on Boredom in Mongolia

Reflections On Boredom in Mongolia

Date- April 17, 2019

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

A long queue awaited us at the border and we were ready to jump right into the mess. Lines of cars were waiting for hours as bored passengers were having picnics on the side of the road. Locals were standing around shooting the breeze with one another, anything but stressed out.

Many inhabitants of the economically developed world thinks their time is so valuable, however all you need to do is be present and focused on something and one can be entertained for hours. People in Mongolia know how to make the best of situations that those in my home country would consider a “big waste of time.”

Boredom is the greatest educator in the world. It has always forced me to create my own entertainment. Striking up conversations with those around me while having nothing to do or nowhere to go has lead me to life changing conversations. I am so glad I did not grow up with a computer in my hand to distract me from the things that are important in my life. Computers and electronic devices distract me from my boredom. Looking closer at my surroundings has often lead me to life realizations. I can’t learn anything new consuming the same media, watching the same TV station or same Youtube channel. Boredom breeds creativity and new ideas. Simply by sitting and doing nothing, I have had some of the most creative ideas in my life. My mind relaxes when I am bored. When I was doing nothing, I decided to create a new class to teach at my university and ideas kept popping into my head. When I was sitting in silence, book ideas kept creeping into my imagination and now several are becoming reality. When I was bored and doing nothing, my ideas for this post came to light in a simple manner. Ideas pop into my head and become words and actions and boredom is my empty canvas. 

Science suggests that creative ideas result when alpha waves while relaxes with their eyes closed, when we are daydreaming or doing aerobic exercise. New ideas do not magically pop into our heads when our boredom stresses us out. Allow boredom to become part of your daily routine to unleash the artist within you. Learn from the Mongolians the art of enjoying your boredom. Wouldn’t life be so much sweeter if all of humanity learned the skill of patience and waiting?

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Bicycle Touring In Mongolia- A Battle With The Elements

Tour Cycling in Mongolia- A Battle With the elements

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

Mongolian weather is notorious for wreaking havoc on anyone that attempts to challenge it to a duel. Summer snow storms so cold that toes and fingers turn numb for months. Blinding winds that toss sand and dust into any passerby’s eye sockets, leaving the poor souls that attempt to tough it out running to the nearest yurt for shelter. Heavy rains that transform the land of Genghis Khan ‘s dirt roads into impassable mud pits. Mongolian weather is full of extremes; and changes faster than the time it takes Lebron James to run the length of a basketball court.

Along the corridor to Ulgi, the country’s Western oasis town, the infamous Mongolian weather decided to put me to the test. Nature versus human. Who would come out on top? This human was determined to show Mother Nature he would not bow down so easily. My opponent knocked me to the ground, left me drained of my energy and nearly beat me into submission on my previous cycling journeys. How much mercy would the Mother of the natural world have on me this time? I must take on fierce opponents in order to be reborn as a warrior-like version of myself. Come on Mongolia. Give it to me!

The uphill climb started off slowly. The mountain pass was straight ahead in the distance and did not look as challenging as others I encountered along the Pamir or Karakorum Highways. Mother Nature must have read my mind, because she suddenly began to taunt and have her way with me.

The previous night I stayed with a local man in his yurt and the evening wind gusts left me rattled. Vroom! His makeshift tent rumbled and vibrated back and forth.  “Was that an earthquake?” I asked.

“No it’s the wind,” he answered, appearing to not even be the least bit worried.

“If a local Mongolian guy does not freak out, then I don’t need to either. I hope the same wind does not come back when I am out there tomorrow on my bike,” I thought.

The wind gusts were other worldly. Dark grey clouds hovered above me, blocking the sun I enjoyed for the previous few hours, signaling a drastic change in weather. This was totally unexpected as I left in the morning thinking the day would be filled with sunshine and mild weather. The wind pounded right into my face, heaving sand and dust into my face. I was moving slower in my lowest gear now. Despite pedaling with all of my might, I was moving at a leisurely walking speed. I would have been better off tossing my bike into the sand embankment and hiking up the slope. “Should I leave my bike behind?” I thought.  That was not a viable option. I purchased this piece of metal machinery exclusively for this leg of the trip. Any other bike would not have survived up until this point.

Keep pedaling. One turn of the wheel after another.  One hour went by and the top of the mountain pass still looked exactly as far away as it did sixty minutes before. The wind was deafening. As air struck my helmet, it let off a whistling noise that even an army drill sergeant would deem impossible to duplicate. The sound of whistling in my ear left my head aching for peace and quiet.

Whoosh! The noise caught me off guard that I almost flew over my handlebars. An eighteen-wheel semi truck whizzed past, coming only an arm’s length away from knocking me into another world. The wind was so loud I did not even hear it creeping up from behind. My sense of hearing was deemed useless at this point and I continued to glance behind me every five minutes to make sure I did not get picked off by another vehicle.

This was completely insane. I was on my way to Ulgi, a major town in Western Mongolia. One of my tire spokes snapped already on account of roads so torn up that they leave cyclists feeling like they are undergoing epileptic seizures. I had visions of my rear tire bending itself out of proportion on account of supporting my panniers and an 80 kilogram rider, rendering my bike useless. All I had to do was make it another forty kilometers into town. Come on!

The wind shifted at will. Every change in direction nearly knocked me off my bike onto the rocky terrain. I had to use every once of concentration and all of my metal strength just to stay up on my bike. It was like I was undergoing a Mongolian right of passage test. Would I pass this one? When would the celebration ceremony start?

That’s it. I am getting off. I pushed my bike up the remainder of the hill for another thirty minutes that seemed like four hours. Each step weakening me and leaving me more mentally drained than final exam week in engineering school.

I finally made it. I threw my bike to the side and scanned the grassy mountains all around me. Admiring the distance I covered in such wretched conditions was my short victory celebration. The wind continued to beat me into oblivion. It must have been gusting at at least 60 kilometers per hour.

Lets go. I glided down the mountain and the wind dissipated. Now I was flying at full speed down the hill, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like a teenager on his first date. Let the right of passage celebration begin. I became a Mongolian man that day and was ready to take on whatever this mysterious land had in store for me.

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Tour Cycling in Mongolia- Unexpected Friendliness

Tour Cycling In Mongolia- Unexpected Friendliness

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

The long and winding road never seemed to end. Mountains soared above us in the distance along every direction, creating a panorama of green fields as it seemed we were in the center of mother nature’s canyon. Yurts dotted the grassy plains to the left of us. Signs of life. People looked like small ants running back and forth, from one small house to another. There was one person riding a bicycle in circles along the grassy fields, rounding up cattle and going on a joy ride.

The sun was about to set and my tour cycling mate Josh and I decided it was time to look for a place to crash for the night. It was our first evening on the other side of the Western Mongolian border. We heard all the stories about the rugged locals and were quite apprehensive about what would happen to us during the night. Rumor has it that no matter where you set up camp, the Mongols know everything that is happening on their terrain and will come ride up to you on their horses and perhaps try to open up your bag looking for booze and money. To avoid a confrontation or potential robbery, we decided it was best to go and introduce ourselves to some locals and ask them to camp by their home. We were both nervous about their reaction to two guys with big bags on their bicycles. There were so many homes and several people roaming around to choose from. One teenager was wobbling back and forth on his bike, chasing around goats that were breaking the steppe silence with their grunts. “That is the guy we need to talk to,” we agreed since he was already on his bicycle. We thought the commonality would help us break the ice and persuade the locals to offer us some hospitality.

Lets do it. We steered our bicycles off the main road in the directions of the yurts. “Oh my god. This is so adventurous!” we said to ourselves. As soon as we traveled a few meters in the direction of the yurt, children gathered together to form a big mob and started running towards us. We kept our fingers crossed and hoped they would not be hostile toward the big Caucasian men heading in their direction.

A few kilometers down the road and one hour before approaching the bicycle riding teenager, a group of children stood blocking my path. I kept going straight at full speed in their direction yelling “move! move!” in English. Even though I am sure they had no clue what “move” means, I assumed they would understand what I meant by the tone of my voice and by the fact that I kept pedaling faster in their direction. Obviously their parents did not teach them to respect tourists, so I took their education into my own hands. As I moved faster and faster in their direction, they held their bodies steady, creating a barricade in the road. I suddenly found myself in a game of chicken with the kids and was not going to back down. At the very last instant they must have realized I was not going to stop and I zoomed by them. Two of the kids grabbed my bags but the momentum of a loaded up bike and an 80 kilogram man was too much for those small hands. The boldness of those children shocked me as I nearly knocked two of them down to the ground. I can play naughty too. Sometimes children need to learn the hard way. Luckily nobody got injured.

Would these children gang up on us and create a big rumble on the steppe? Images of me body slamming kids on the grass flashed through my head. The Mongolians are known for wrestling, but surely I could take out these kids one by one if necessary. What would happen if one of their parents caught us in a scuffle with their children? Perhaps they would skin Josh and I and have us for dinner alongside their roasted beavers and steppe critters. This would be a welcome change to their diet of lamb meat and noodles.

The kids sprinted towards us and the ring leader was on his bicycle in front of them. The scene reminded me of a modern day Genghis Khan and his troops approaching an enemy, but this time on a bicycle instead of horse. “Sem ben oo,” I said. Greeting others in the local language always creates rapport right off the bat and signals that I respect the local culture.

The ring leader smiled at us as Josh and I attempted to explain ourselves using body language and simple English words. “Bike. Sleep. England. United States,” we said. Much to our surprise, the teenage cyclist started speaking to us in clear English. “Sure. You can put your tent by my house,” he said smiling. “My sister speaks English well and will be happy to talk to you,” he continued.

What a relief. After so much anticipation, we finally were able to relax and let our guard down. The tension faded in an instant as the children led us to their yard. The kids helped Josh and I set up our tents and invited us into their home to share a meal. Noodles and lamb meat were on the menu and we enjoyed every last bite.

That evening, we swapped bikes and road back and forth in the endless grassy field outside of their home. The kid got to test drive mountain and touring bikes and looked so happy to be riding our solid pieces of machinery. It was obvious that our teenage friend would never forget sharing tea with us and doing a bike swap and neither would we. What started out as a bold move by two risk takers ended up being a cultural exchange that none of us will ever forget. We heard plenty of shady stories about the lawless Mongolian steppe but became the victims of vicious hospitality and friendliness.  

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Tour Cycling in Mongolia- Is it Really as “Hard” as They Say?

Tour Cycling in Mongolia- Is It Really as "Hard" as they say?

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

Tour cycling in Mongolia has always haunted my dreams. Dirt paths that lead to nowhere, harsh winds, summer snowfalls and nomads roaming Genghis Khan’s former terrain by horse were images that infiltrated my mind whenever I fantasized about riding my bicycle across the world’s least densely populated country.

Mongolia was sure to put my physical and mental strength to the test. Before crossing the border, other travelers who cycled or drove through the Mongolian steppe all summed up their experience in one word. “Hard” was the first adjective that came out of their mouths.

“Hard” has always been one of my favorite words in any language. Leaving my comfort zone and testing myself has been my life long goal. There is no sense in doing things the easy way. The easy way leads to boredom, complacency and regret. How hard would it actually be? Everyone has a different standard for the world “hard” but I was curious to see how I would react to my new surroundings.

I met a Korean friend in Siberia who had just cycled across Mongolia who had difficulties with the locals. “They grabbed my bags and just started digging through it until I gave them something. I was really scared because I was in the middle of nowhere and they could have just left me for dead if they wanted to,” he said with fear in his eyes just recounting the story.

Hearing my friend’s story sent chills down my spine. I had to mentally prepare myself to adjust to a more rugged way of life upon crossing the border.

Whenever fear enters my mind, I re-frame my self talk by thinking of past accomplishments.

“I am the guy who camped outside with lions and elephants in Namibia and Botswana, cycled through the one of the world’s highest elevated roads in Tajikistan and played basketball in the roughest neighborhoods of Detroit. If people put me to the test then let them! I can handle myself in any situation the world throws at me,” I said to myself. 

This is my way of overcoming the scared voice in my head. That voice always tries to keep me from realizing my true potential. Every time I give myself an inspirational talk, the voice falls silent and I reemerge as a warrior ready to destroy anything in my path.

Traveling in Mongolia by bicycle was sure to be survival of the fittest in it’s rawest form. Life would become all about one thing- surviving to see the next day. This is the way humans have lived for thousands of years and only until recently have we been softened by the ways of the modern world. In my everyday life I work hard to callus my mind by pushing myself to the limit. Mongolia would serve as a playground where I could live the way human beings originally evolved. I was destined to be there.

At least I was not alone. My tour cycling companion Josh was right next to me when I crossed the border. Surely I would be a lot less vulnerable with him by my side. Power comes in numbers. We were both as giddy as children waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve at the thought of entering Mongolian territory. How would this place test us and how would we react? Only time would give us the answer.