HEATHROW SECURITY SUCKS!!


Over the past thirty years I have travelled to Heathrow many times. It was at its worst in the 1970's and 1980's but then it went through a period when it became more user friendly. I could no longer call it the worst airport in my experience.

I won't go so far as to say that a recent bad experience has reversed my opinion of the improvements at Heathrow, but it certainly does nothing to improve my sentiments!

My wife and I had just spent three weeks in England and Wales and had our flight booked with Air Canada Flight 869 on April 14. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 8:30a.m. which required us to be at Heathrow by 5:30 a.m. This meant a pretty early start for us. We were leaving from Terminal 3 thank goodness. Anyone leaving from Terminal 5 at this time must have "terminal jitters", to make a bad pun.

When we arrived, just before 5:30, there were probably 50 people ahead of us. Nobody appeared to start processing passengers until about 5:50am. Immediate question is "Why be there 3 hours before departure if none of the check in crew are there?"

Once we were processed, there was an interminable line-up going through security and then finally we were released into the Duty Free area. At this point there was nothing to tell us which gate our flight was leaving from, so we took a seat and waited until it appeared on one of the overhead notices. At approximately 7:40am notification appeared that our flight was leaving from Gate 32. There was one other flight on the board - to Chicago from Gate 22.

My wife and I collected our bits and pieces and began the hike to our departure gate. It is not an exaggeration to say that it was a long way and I have no problem with that. Heathrow is a major centre and inevitably there are going to be large distances to be covered. However, somewhere during this I got our departure gates confused and we turned in to Gate 22. Where we turned off the main walkway towards the access to Gate 22 there was not a soul. Several hundred feet further on there was a junction, which, with the benefit of hindisght, I assume was a security point. There were four young security officials a short distance away who were horsing around, in a mild way, amongst themselves. They paid us no attention.

We turned right and within a few paces, I realised we were heading to the wrong gate. We turned back to retrace our steps. One of the young security officials now stopped us and said we could not go back the way we had come. He instead directed us down the other side of the divider running the length of the access, along which we had previously walked. He was very offhand but did not indicate there was any problem and we knew he must have seen us previously. There were no other passengers around.

We walked where directed until we came to a closed door and another young security official by himself. He said he could not open the door but pointed us towards some stairs and told us if we went up them we would return to the duty free area.

Well, we went up the stairs and then up a ramp and, suddenly, we were in the line up with arriving passengers at immigration. I knew this had to be wrong. We went back to the young fellow at security. I told him that there must be a mistake. He said that there was no mistake. When we had taken the wrong turning to Gate 22 we had not followed instructions and therefore we were in breach of security. We would have to clear security again. However, we did not have to go through immigration but if we went to the right place we would find the security gate for connecting flights. By this time my wife was in tears and I was holding on to my temper with great difficulty. I did not fancy getting into a fracas with this rude and officious young man and being detained by police!

We retraced our steps to the immigration hall where finally I found an airport employee who could direct us to the security gate for connecting flights. We cleared security quickly and raced through the duty dree area and were almost the last people to board our flight.

These are my questions.

The four security officials who were horsing around did not stop us on our way through. Why?

Why did they stop us on our way back?

I understand that technically we had breached the security system. As the breach of the system was due to the inattention of the four young officials, and I am sure they were aware of it, why did they not try to facilitate sorting things out?

I understand why the solitary young official did not let us through the closed door. He was not aware of what had transpired. However, why did he not adequately describe what need now happen?

Why were none of the security officials even remotely courteous?

Why could they not recognise that a genuine mistake had been made and try to address it in a helpful manner?

And here is a thought. Why does someone on a connecting flight have to go through security again? Surely, if you have just stepped off a plane, you are already in a secure zone and an additional security check is basically passanger harassment!

The whole debacle was exacerbated by the attitude of the officials. This was brought home to me when later that same day, we had to go through security at Winnipeg Airport.

There was a family of four in front of us. There was some problem with their papers and the first security guard, in a polite voice asked them to step aside while he called his supervisor. His supervisor arrived immediately and with a big smile asked what the problem was. After hearing it she said she would have to make a phone call to her supervisor. This she did. By the time I had passed through the security scanner the family were back in the line-up and everyone was happy.

It seems that in this current day and age airport security is a sad measure of our societal requirements. At the same time, there should be some way whereby common sense and courtesy could be the norm rather than the exception.

Read more...

TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE MOON

I have been too busy to write in the blog for a while but I must get this down.

This morning when I left my gir, just after 6:00 am, it was a cold, clear morning with a stiff breeze from the north.

As I rounded the corner of the cafeteria I was surprised to see that a full lunar eclipse was under way. Stuck out in the middle of Mongolia one is out of the loop in terms of what is going on in the universe, literally and figuratively. In North America these events are always publicised and human nature being what it is, I have become blase and it is years since I last saw a full eclipse.

So to step around a corner and be confronted bY an eclipse in progress took my breath away. Standing in the middle of the steppe beneath the vast Mongolian sky I could fully appreciate the wonder that the ancients attached to these phenomona. The surprise of it enhanced my appreciation of it. What is it about me that if I had known about it, I would not have gone out of my way to see it but being confronted by it, unexpectedly, I went "WOW!" Perhaps I like surprise more than anticipation. I really don't know.

However, what made it even more remarkable for me was what I had seen yesterday morning.

Yesterday morning was also clear but there was no wind and it was several degrees warmer so I had decided to walk from camp to the mine. As I left camp, the moon was a brilliant reddish yellow ball in the western sky. As I walked it dropped below the horizon and it was as if it was being consumed by the curvature of the earth. The last thing I saw was a large bright crescent which disappeared in a moment. In my early morning dopiness I thought that what I was seeing was an atmospheric effect. But a minute or two later on the eastern horizon the sun started to rise. In spatial terms it looked almost exactly 180 degrees from where the moon had disappeared. The early morning late winter sun looked no bigger than the moon had a few minutes before. I could almost persuade myself that the moon had fallen off the disc of the earth and then magically reappeared from the opposite direction. Spectacular.

By contrast, today the sunrise was more low key.

In hindsight, from what I saw yesterday, I should have figured out that things were getting pretty well lined up and an eclipse was imminent.

People are probably asking if I had my camera with me? Of course not! But anyway, it is in my memory card!

So much to keep one interested.

Read more...

LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL


Well, February 11 rolled around and it was time once more to make the long trip to Mongolia. I really find it quite daunting and this time I was not a happy camper. A few weeks ago I received upgrade certificates from Air Canada which, I thought, would allow me to upgrade my ticket from cattle class to Business Class. But no. When I tried to do it, I was informed that the ticket I had was not "upgradeable". Puke.

It was all a bit chaotic leaving. We were halfway from Denare Beach to Flin Flon when Sarah asked me if I had remembered my spare pair of glasses and I hadn't. I figured I had time to turn round and pick them up and still get to the airport in time. This was actually cutting it fine. We arrived at the airport and everyone was already on the plane except for someone requiring assistance but no harm done. We stopped in the Pas and a woman sat down next to me. It turned out that she had grown up in Flin Flon and only 4 doors away from where we lived at 5 Church St. Her maiden name was Howie which doesn't ring any bells but we talked non-stop.

I got into the hotel and slept like a log. Next morning bright and early took the flight to Vancouver. Waiting for the plane I had an enjoyable chat with a woman from Kamloops who had been in Winnipeg with her daughter who was competing in a big speed skating competition. What took place on the plane was weird.

Last time I flew from Vancouver to Winnipeg, I was seated next to a farmer from Morden called Dean Hildebrand. He was a Mennonite and very active in an organisation called A Rocha, a Christian group which seeks to create harmony with nature and he was particularly concerned with farming in an ecologically sustainable fashion. Well, this time I'm sitting next to a retired couple from Morden and we started talking. I mentioned I had been sitting with this guy called Hildebrand and this A Rocha organisation. Well, the couple, although not farmers, knew Hildebrand well and they are also active in A Rocha. From what I have seen on the web, A Rocha seems to have some good objectives but I haven't been able to find out whether they are anti-evolution. I seem to remember George saying that the museum in Morden plays down evolution, which is a shame because there are some really good fossils there.

Did not have to wait long for my flight in Vancouver and although I was not able to get an exit seat, I got a bulkhead seat which gave me a bit more leg room. I had a window seat. I was sitting next to a Chinese Canadian but although I tried to make conversation, he was not interested. We had three movies. I only watched one - "Little Miss Sunshine" - enjoyed it. I was pleased to have a window seat. It was cloudy when we left Vancouver and headed north towards Anchorage but it cleared. I was on the port side of the plane so I had quite a good look at the coast line. Then we swung down and flew across China and into Beijing. The Chinese topography is really interesting. You fly over wave after wave of crumpled hills or mountains, some of them very steep. Between the ranges are quite broad valleys which appear to be intensively cultivated. Some of the hillsides were terraced. As you approach Beijing the population density increases and gradually you become aware of the shroud of pollution. Getting through the bureaucracy at Beijing was easy. It seemed like we were the only plane disgorging passengers. Everything is in a state of flux preparing for the Olympics. I knew there should be a shuttle to the hotel but I couldn't find it. A well dressed young man approached me and asked if I wanted a taxi. I said yes and asked him how much. He said it was metered. That sounded fine and also, having done it before, I knew what it should cost. Well, there was no meter, and when we got to the hotel, which is close to the airport, he tried to charge me $30. I was not having any of that and even so I think I paid him more than I should have. We did not part on good terms.

The Sino Swiss hotel is quite nice but at US$179 per night it should be. There was a bowl of fruit in the room which was very welcome. I had an extraordinary room. It had a lounge and then a bedroom and shower upstairs. I showered and went to bed. I actually had quite a good night. I slept for about 4 hours and woke, made myself some tea and read for two hours and then slept another 2 hours. The wind was blowing hard most of the night and one of the windows in my room rattled but it did not disturb me. Then took the shuttle at 6:30 am to the airport and this time it was wild. I think that there are all these make work jobs in China so there are endless forms and controls. In the morning the airport was packed and with all these bottlenecks it was a pain.

I really don't think China is geared for holding the Olympics. The airport is not great and I don't believe the infrastructure is there. I suspect that officials in the IOC got some pretty heavy inducements to award the Olympics to Beijing. I also believe that there are going to be really stupendous financial rip-offs going on. It just served to reinforce my belief that the Olympics are a cynical scam, exercised by a small bunch of IOC officials in collusion with business interests that are in line to make a financial killing. The athletes really are just pawns in the game.

Even in the hotel where people were very pleasant, I got the sense that they were not sure about how to provide real service. Another thing which surprised me at the airport. I went to the washrooms. There was an attendant and when I was coming out I was accosted for a tip. I had a $5 dollar bill and some Chinese money. He tried to pursuade me that the $5 would be appropriate. I don't think so! I am very unsettled by China, even though I have seen next to nothing of it.

Anyway, finally through all the hassles and boarded the plane for Ulaan Bataar. Know you are back with Mongolians when you see the girls with high heels (had to say that) and everyone behaving so differently from the Chinese. A small snapshot. As we boarded the plane I was behind a young woman When she got to her seat there was a middle aged man sitting in it. He did not want to move but, this being Mongolia, she had no compunction about standing up for her rights. This time I had an exit seat. Lots of leg room and I enjoyed watching the scenery unroll below. I am sure that the Great Wall should have been visible, but maybe it was on the other side of the plane. Of course it is a myth that you can see it from outer space, but I would have liked to see it. The pollution gradually disappeared as we flew north. The ground became snow covered and very sparsely populated, presumably Inner Mongolia.

Then there were the hills around UB and the coal fired power stations doing their bit for global warming. Then we were down and quickly processed and into the city which now looks quite familiar. It is a lovely day, only a few degrees below zero. Off to camp tomorrow. I feel that I have really travelled well this time. The good night's rest in Winnipeg was a real boon.

Read more...

REALITY CHECK


December 1, 2006 brought home what a remote area we are working in..

There is another Canadian company prospecting for uranium about an hours drive from where we are, towards Choibalsan. Recently we completed one of our drilling programs and the contractor, Landrill, moved out and went to drill some holes for the other company. I should say, although we are competitors we have a good relationship with the other company.

Western Prospector have been proactive in trying to ensure that we have a safe environment. Everyone is supposed to wear all relevant safety equipment and every effort is made to see that our conditions are safe. We even have a clinic in camp, staffed by two doctors and an ambulance. In fact, outside of Choibalsan, we are probably the best equipped facility in the aimag.

At about 10am on Thursday morning our assistant camp manager, Orgil, appeared in the office and said there had been an accident and someone was dead in the clinic. No details. I had my camera so Pieter asked me to come with him. Not something I really wanted to do but I knew it had to be done.

We drove to the clinic and were met by the doctors and the Landrill foreman.

What had happened was not anything to do with Western Prospector. Landrill had finished their program on our competitor's property and were rigging out - everyone looking forward to going home. There was a problem with part of the drill and they decided to use an excavator to free the part that was sticking. The bucket of the excavator slipped and crushed the thigh of one of the Mongolians against the drill. At this point they thought "Fracture" and decided to head for our camp. It was cold and the conditions in which the victim was transported do not bear thinking about. He was slipping in out of consciousness, sometimes lucid but by the time they arrived in camp he was quiet and the doctors declared him dead of massive internal bleeding. Obviously, we were all shocked by this. Then I noticed that some of the Landrill employees were sitting outside and one of them was absolutely white as a sheet - in a state of shock, plain as could be. I pointed him out to the doctors and he was checked out and treated. He had been operating the excavator and the victim was his best friend.

There was some discussion about taking the body to Choibalsan but the ambulance wouldn't start because of the cold. We contacted the police who said the body must stay in camp and they would come. The doctors were not happy.They did not want the corpse in their little clinic because of their regular load of inpatients so the body was put in the ambulance, in the expectation that the police would be there shortly.

In the event the police did not arrive for thirty six hours. When they did it was just before supper on the Friday night and they brought two doctors from Choibalsan.

There was much toing and froing during the night ( I know because the clinic is close to my gir). The police went to the accident site and came back and milled around. Eventually they settled down for the night. To our surprise, they insisted that the autopsy had to be done in camp, rather than in Choibalsan. Not surprisingly the body was deep frozen and had to be thawed out. They did the autopsy on the Saturday morning and a helicopter came to transport the body to the victim's home.

The police focussed on the excavator operator as being the one to blame. The young fellow did not have a permit to operate the excavator, so there is some culpability but it looks like he is going to be the scapegoat. There were all sorts of other poor practices, but it seems they are being ignored.

As is common in most undeveloped countries, you do not want to be in a postion where the police are calling the shots. There was a vehicle accident involving a minor injury before I arrived in camp. The police identified who their "criminal" was but the investigating officer was bought off by a bribe of a laptop computer. In this latest incident, because there was a fatality, the police have decided who is to blame and he is going to get the book thrown at him. The fact that he has to live with the death of his best friend and the other factors are irrelevant.

Eventually, the police left and we were left to chew things over.

Western Prospector are obviously not part of the investigation and you could say that it was an opportunity to test our resources.

We have a problem with our ambulance. Fat lot of use it is if you can't get it started. The victim died because of internal bleeding. Even if he had been alive when he arrived in camp, could we have saved him? Could he have survived another journey by road to Choibalsan?

Underground accidents, by their nature, tend to be pretty messy. The complexity of bringing an injured person from underground in the bucket always bothers me. How would we handle it? There is a lot of soul searching going on right now. As a company, it is one thing trying to do the right thing but it is another thing to deliver when the logistics are so tough. Work safely and don't have accidents is definitely the route to go.

For myself, if I had been at the scene of the accident, I would have been tempted to take the victim to Choibalsan because of better facilities. What would I have felt if he had died en route? I would always have wondered if I should have done what the Landrill crew did.

Development in Mongolia depends on bringing these projects to fruition. The vast bulk of the population knows that this is the economic way forward and it is so sad to think that along the way people are going to be injured or die in these stupid accidents.

So much to think about.

Now I am in UB on my way home. Arrived last night. There is real snow on the ground. The time in camp was kind of unreal because it was cold but there was an almost complete lack of snow.


This will be my last posting from this trip. Came across this quote from Mel Brooks - I like it.
'If you’re alive, you’ve got to flap your arms and legs, you’ve got to jump around a lot. For life is the very opposite of death and you must at the very least think noisily and colourfully, or you’re not alive.’

Read more...

A NIGHT AT THE DISCO

Well, nothing is advancing here. We still are waiting for parts for the generator and trying to keep ourselves busy. Of course, on the internet there has been lots of cricket. Talking of cricket, I was happy to see the West Indies finally becoming competitive again. Cricket is always better when the West Indies are competitive. Australia thumped England although the way in which they did it left a bad taste in my mouth. Ponting is such an incredible batsman but the way he did not enforce the follow on smacked to me of arrogance - let's just rub the bowlers noses in it a bit. Hopefully, England can fight back.

In 1924, the Mongolians finally threw off the Chinese yoke and established their country as the second communist nation in the world. November 26 was the anniversary of this event. Mongolia is now a democracy but the day is still commemorated, even though this it is a relic of the communist record. Yet another of the ties that present day Mongolia retains with its past.

Geomandel, our catering contractor, organised a disco to celebrate. It was a Sunday and one of the things about being in camp is how the days stretch together with not much to distinguish them. Pieter (the project manager) has instituted a different routine on Sundays. We work an hour shorter and yesterday he decided that we should also have a Mongolian lesson. This was entertaining. Our teacher was our interpreter, Bolor, who also speaks Russian and Japanese. Our lesson was really basic but we had lots of laughs. Then it was time to go and get ready for the disco!

At this time I should tell you that there have been problems with the power supply in the camp - basically the cable was not adequate for the load that was being put on it. I'm not sure whether the Mongolian electrical code is not up to snuff or whether the cable was not up to it. If it was a Chinese cable, my guess would be the latter. In the west, so much of the manufactured goods we are buying originates from China and we are finding it satisfactory. In Mongolia, the only way to describe the Chinese manufactured product is junk! I feel so sorry for the average Mongolian who uses his limited disposable income on consumer products which then don't fulfil basic expectations. It also extends to steel which stretches, furnishings which disintegrate. Really shoddy stuff. There are definitely different standards pertaining in China depending on the destination market.

Yesterday afternoon the temperature dropped to about -20 and while we were eating our supper all the lights in camp failed. Well, all the electricians (Redpath, Western Prospector, Geomandel) went to see what could be done. What a job in the cold. It seems that the cable was failing at numerous points in the camp and they worked for 6 or 7 hours to do a temporary fix. Of course everyone was concerned that we were going to be left without heat and that would not be much fun! It was remarkable how people went out into the cold to volunteer, whether it was as electricians or translating or just labouring.

After about an hour the electricians managed to restore power to the cafeteria and a couple of the other buildings. They then set about ripping up cable to the girs and replacing them with temporary, albeit sturdier cable.

In the meantime, in the cafeteria preparations for the disco went ahead. Those of us not involved with the electrical problem sat inside while this carried on.

The catering staff had made two gorgeous cakes, one in the shape of Mongolia with the provincial boundaries and prominent places marked. The other was an elaborate sculpted confection portraying imaginative flowers.

The DJ was our translator Bolor - a really good guy with an infectious sense of humour and suave manner. He spent a lot of time getting his play list set up - even though in the event it seemed to go totally by the board.

The disco was meant to start at nine and run until 11.30. Whether because of the electrical problems or because we were running on Mongolian standard time, nothing happened until well after ten o'clock. Gradually the cafeteria filled. All the pretty girls appeared made up and wearing party clothes. One young woman was wearing a pair of incredible black high heels, several inches high and with exaggerated curved toes - OK I know I'm always going on about the girls with their high heels but why would a girl come to the wastes of northern Mongolia and bring such a pair of shoes? Beats me.

The music was a mix of standard modern Western popular music as played in the clubs and covers of similar music but sung in Mongolian or Russian. The dancing style was the same as you would see in any American bar. Bolor had a blast, shrieking incomprehensibly above the music every now and again.

The people working on the electrical problem would drift in for a few minutes at a time to restore feeling to their fingers. Gradually power was restored to the individual girs.

From time to time there would be a change of tempo and the dancers would whirl around to what I think was a quickstep - no waltzes or two steps. Some of them were very good dancers (including the girl with high heels!). The MC also stopped the action from time to time to co-ordinate some sort of competition. One involved some sort of a quiz, all in Mongolian, but it generated gales of laughter, we suspect some of it was directed at the expats! There were also competitions for the best dancers, voted by popular acclamation. Finally, selected couples had to use their combined bodies to come up with some creative shape. This was a big crowd pleaser.

Shortly after midnight the expats all headed for bed with the Mongolians still whirling around the floor. At this time the cakes had still not been cut but when we came in for breakfast the next morning, they were pretty well all gone. I don't know how long the disco went on but what a nice idea.

The power was still off in my gir when I turned in. I wasn't too concerned because the gir does hold its warmth. When I got up next morning, voila, power was restored.

The electricians have been doing substantial revamping of the whole wiring over the past couple of days. It is miserable work because it has turned cold and the wind has picked up.

Now here is a poignant thing. The biggest mining development in Mongolia is taking place in the Gobi Desert at a place called Oyu Toigul. This is going to be a huge money earner and conceivably could kickstart the entire economy. Redpath are the mining contractor at that property as well and there is some movement of personnel between the two properties. A couple of weeks ago, one of the Mongolians working for Redpath at Oyu Tougul was killed in a nasty accident in the shaft. Redpath employees here held a whip round for the victim's family and today, at our morning meeting, a large parcel from the victim's family to the contributors was opened.

The parcel contained a jar of coffee, some matches and a packet of incense for all the contributors. As they received these offerings the Mongolians lit a match.

Of course none of the expats had a clue what this was all about. It turns out that in Mongolian society it is not unusual to give gifts to the family of the deceased who then reciprocate as described. The matches are lit to speed the dead person to the afterlife. The recipients will later make themselves coffee and burn incense while they reflect on the dead person. It was very moving.

Read more...

MONGOLIAN NIGHTS (OR MORE ADVENTURES WITH CHUKA)

In a field camp a long way from anywhere things rarely go according to plan. For starters we had all the problems associated with dewatering the mine. Finally, in the middle of November we were in a position to start the underground sampling program, several months later than planned.

The underground ore exposure can best be described as patchy. The ore zone is very broken and the Russians had installed steel and wood sets (support) so that in nearly all locations the ore is not visible. This makes sampling tough.

We hit on a plan to drill holes through the wooden planks at regular intervals and then using a little coring drill take samples of the rock behind the support. The theory being that if we took enough samples we would be able to corroborate and enhance the existing ore reserve estimate. Sounds pretty straightforward. The best laid plans and all that.

We are restricted to one exposure ore heading underground because along with all our problems we have been trying to eliminate (or bring down to safe working levels) radon gas. We have to do this by manipulating the mine ventilation. Consequently, in the heading in which we are working there is a brisk breeze and the temperature is only a couple of degres above freezing. Definitely encouragement to keep moving!

I turns out that coring the rock is v..e..r..y slow for a variety of reasons. It has been extremely frustrating for all concerned and for the Redpath miners who are doing the work, very fatiguing as well. For the geologist, taking samples it is a battle to keep warm so we were thinking about what we could do to improve things when another of fate's fickle fingers pointed and everything changed. A really serious potential mechanical problem in one of the generators manifested itself, shutting down the mine ventilation and the sampling program with it.

In North America a mechanical problem like this would be resolved in a couple of days at maximum because of access to suppliers and infrastructure. This is not the case in Mongolia. The parts have to be located and then shipped. At the end of 36 hours we had identified the supplier (in France) who will despatch the parts by courier to Mongolia. Hopefully, they will arrive in UB over the week-end and be cleared through customs on Monday (always problematic). Then, the parts can be shipped to Choibalsan on Tuesday afternnon and be in camp on Tuesday night. By Thursday the generator can be up and running and we can set about lowering the level of radon in the working place again. Hopefully, by Saturday we can resume the sampling program. This timetable depends on every thing running smoothly. If I was a betting man, my guess is that something will happen that extends my forecast.

All of a sudden my work load dropped to zero. Thank goodness for "Cricinfo"! I can follow cricket on my computer - West Indies in Pakistan, India in South Africa and England getting whipped in Australia. But time does hang heavy.

Pieter (project manager) was going to Choibalsan yesterday with Tuuru (one of the Mongolian geologists) and Chuka. They were going to deal with permitting issues for drilling a hole in the coal fiel near Choilbasan. Tuuru is the geologist in charge. Pieter asked if I would like to go along with them for the ride. Now, the trip to Choibalsan involves being thrown around for somewhere around two and a half hours with not much excitement at the end of it. It says how time hangs quite heavy right now, that I leapt at the chance!

Everyone is probably getting sick of me rhapsodising about the light in Mongolia. It doesn't seem to matter what time of year or what time of day, as long as it is not overcast, the light is always breathtaking. Yesterday was no exception. The steppe rolling away on all sides bathed in soft pastels. Occasionally we would see livestock and the occasional horsemen with steam snorting from the horses' nostrils. Also saw lots of large unidentified (need I say it) raptors. As we approached Choibalsan we could see the plume of smoke rising from the power station and the town itself was partially covered by what looked like mist but I suspect was actually smoke from the powere station (temperature inversion?). It looked pretty and dissipated as we approached, presumably because the breeze picked up.

Our first visit was to the mayor's office. This was situated in a building obviously constructed during the communist era, dilapidated on the outside and inside signs of water damage on the ceilings and battered concrete steps. Altogether a building that has seen better days. The mayor's office was down a long corridor of offices with rather nice pine doors. The mayor's office was large with all the accoutrements of a modern office. We sat at a long meeting table while Tuuru explained what we wanted.

The mayor, a swarthy, burly man of middle age, dressed in a suit and obviously very conscious of his position, listened impassively. For a while I thought there was a problem but it all turned out to be fine and the mayor unbent a little bit as he took us over to one of the walls were a town planner's vision of the development of Choibalsan over the next twenty years was laid out. Of course we were looking at an artist's impression but it would be interesting to see how the town changes over the next twenty years. One interesting thing I found out recently was that the population is sixty thousand - hard to know where they all are.

We left the mayor. On the stairs and in the foyer there was a variety of plants in pots. Obviously somebody wanting to see things grow but rendered a bit incongruous by artificial flowers being incorporated in the greenery!

We then went for lunch to "Winners". This was a small restaurant and I told Tuuru that I wanted to eat Mongolian food. He ordered kushuur. These are, yes you guessed it, pieces of mutton in a fried pastry envelope. The pastry is not the same as with a samoosa and they are not spicy but I found them to be very tasty.

At the table next to us were three young women speaking English and we struck up a conversation with them. They were all with the VSO's. One, a visiting co-ordinator, was Dutch, one was from England though born in Zimbabwe and educated at Eshowe in South Africa and the third was a young woman from Kenya. It turned out that Tuuru and Chuka had never seen a black African in the flesh before. I found it interesting that a Kenya would wind up in Choibalsan with a volunteer organisation and I wonder how she will handle the winter.

After this we went to the company apartment where Pieter had some business and then we decided to see a bit more of Choibalsan. Tuuru suggested the museum and that is where we headed.

Outside the museum there is a Mongolian war memorial. It is flanked by an armoured car and a Russian tank, both dating from WWII and looking rather insignificant and battered. The monument itself features a very splendid stylised representation of a Mongol warrior on horseback. Tuuru told us with pride it was a Mongolian tank! I took a photo of the memorial as two cows ambled across.

The museum is the former government house and has a large statue of Marshal Choibalsan outside. Choibalsan was the Mongolian strongman in the 1930's and 40's. He orchestrated purges which decimated the clergy and intelligentsia and political opposition. Not a nice guy. However, he is still held in quite high esteem in Mongolia. He stood up to Stalin about preserving a measure of Mongolian autonomy. He also invaded China, with some success, to try and reclaim Inner Mongolia. He only gave up this effort in the face of very severe pressure from Stalin.

The museum was locked but on ringing the bell, a custodian appeared and we were admitted to a dark interior hallway with a long corridor with rooms on either side. We paid our admission and a young woman appeared to guide us around. We were informed that she spoke English very well. In the event the limit of her English was to say "Thank You" and "Bye Bye" at the end of the tour. Tuuru was called on to interpret and he struggled manfully. He was tickled that I knew who the Buryats were. They are a group that straddles the Mongolia Siberia border. Although part of Mongolia they have cultural differences that separate them from the major Mongolian group, the Khaliks (as in Incredible!). As it happens, Tuuru is a Buryat and part of the museum was devoted to them.

The museum was very uneven. What was interesting was absolutely the biggest cooking pot I have ever seen. This was not your single missionary variety but rather "The Entire Missionary Family" model. It came from one of the old monasteries and could feed five hundred people!

There was a room devoted to Marshal Choibalsan. I got to sit in his chair while Tuuru took a photo of me. It was an eerie feeling to sit in the seat of the tyrant from whence I imagine some pretty ruthless directives were issued. There was a typewriter with Mongolian script keys, as opposed to the modified Cyrillic alphabet, that is in use now. It had been manufactured by Remington and I cannot imagine that there was much call for typewriters with Mongolian script keys. This is just the sort of thing that whets my interest!

Another point of interest was a poster depicting the Mongolian musical instruments and the stringed instrument that had fascinated me in "A Night at the Opera - Mongolian Style" turns out to be a ёoчин (yochin) which is equivalent to a hammer dulcimer. Well, I was raving to Tuuru about how much I had enjoyed hearing this instrument in UB and lo and behold, this morning the Redpath translator, Anka, appeared at my desk and told me that she plays the instrument so I am trying to get her to bring it to camp. Not really practical as it is very bulky but it was very interesting talking to her about it. I was bugging her that she speaks three languages fluently, plays the yochin and yet she is working as a translator in the back of beyond. Of course, the reality is that Redpath pay her a decent wage and she is actually enhancing her English language and administrative skills.

After the museum, time head back to camp and the fun began.

It was already dark and the thought of the drive back was not very attractive. Chuka is a native of Choibalsan and when he left town by a route that was unfamiliar, we were reassured when Tuuru told us that Chuka knew a short cut to our road. It was a lovely starlit night but quite cold - not the sort of night to be stranded outside but amazingly we saw two young men riding a motorbike. They stopped us and asked for directions. We couldn't help them and in the event, that was probably fortunate for them! They were unconcerned about being out at night on a motorbike in the endless steppe.

After heading down a typical Mongolian track for about 15 minutes, Chuka suddenly swung right and we started driving across the steppe in the dark. did not have a warm fuzzy feeling about this. My feelings became even chillier when we had to take evasive action to avoid one of the tank traps that the Russians excavated around Choibalsan!

Chuka ploughed on. Pieter observed that the relative location of the Big Dipper was changing but he couldn't be sure what it meant in terms of our direction and hey, Chuka knows the countryside. Suddenly we crossed two nondescript tracks and shortly afterwards a more substantial track appeared. Chuka made satisfied noises and turned left which is what we would have expected. Away we trundled.

In the distance a light appeared. This was surprising but we knew that the lights of camp were visible from a very long way off. But "Oh, oh, What was this?" A whole plethora of lights and the awful truth dawned that we were once again driving towards Choibalsan! No problem. Chuka wheeled the vehicle round and we headed back down what was after all "our own road."

I was musing how we could possibly have headed back to Choibalsan when we turned on to the road that Chuka knew to be our road. My musings meant nothing as it became apparent that we were on a totally different road. A couple of lights appeared in the distanbce and all of a sudden we were surrounded by habitation, mostly in darkness. Chuka proudly told us that this was the soum of Sergelen, a village I had never heard of. Pieter and I were starting to have visions of becoming apparitions like the Flying Dutchman and travelling the steppe forever without ever finding our destination.

At this point Tuuru pulled out his GPS and quite firmly told Chuka which of the innumerable tracks offered us the best chance of finding camp which was still 45km away.

Finally about an hour later, we reached our proper road and a few minutes later we rolled into camp. Pieter and I made our way into the cafeteria for a very belated bite and shortly afterwards Chuka appeared and dropped the vehicle keys on on the table and said very sheepishly "Sorry!"

We have determined that henceforth a shortcut is to be termed a chukacut!

Today's safety topic at the morning meeting covered the inadvisability of deviating from the known road at night time in winter. At this point it is funny but if anything had gone wrong, no-one would have had a clue as to our whereabouts. It was not cold enough that we couldn't have huddled together and stayed alive but it would have been a very uncomfortable situation.

So that is the story of yesterday. Today, I introduced our translator Bolor, Tuuru and our draftsman Demid to the wonderful world of Ebay. They had never heard of it and they have been happily scouring it for bargains!

You can see how everything has ground to a halt.

Read more...

HOOKING IN MONGOLIA

Now, that got your attention didn't it? But I am not talking about the delights, or otherwise, of mercenary sex .... but rather the function of the well paid expatriate in a third world country and specifically Mongolia

For me, I have always been uncomfortable being the well paid and obvious white face in a society where the vast mass around me are living on what I regard as a subsistence wage. The fact that I marvel at how cheap things are for me in Mongolia, does not mean that I don't know that the local population have the same pressure to make ends meet that I experience in Canada but, unlike me, they don't have the opportunity to go into a less affluent culture and exclaim at how cheap things are!

There are different issues at play here. Mongolia is a third world country and this is evident in many places. It is a country that is opening up to new ways of thinking. Whether this is good or bad depends on individual perspectives. For myself, although I find the nomadic way of life charming and it has obviously been a pillar of Mongolian society, I don't believe it is sustainable. Young people always want to move forwards and the perceived way forwards conforms more to the technological world rather than the simple life.

So here am I working in an industry which really offers an opportunity for Mongolia to acquire wealth and help fulfil the aspirations of the population.

Do Mongolians have the expertise to develop and operate the natural resource sector? I think most Mongolians recognise that there is a requirement for external assistance here. They also expect that there is a timeframe in which the assistance will take place.

This is how I see my role here. No Mongolian geologist has underground experience. I can provide training to allow Mongolians to assume leadership roles in the future. I have no doubt that the capability is there. In the meantime I am earning a wage that is far in excess of any of the Mongolians on the property. But let's put this in context. The Mongolians on the property are earning salaries that are higher than Mongolians elsewhere. My salary, although good, is comparable with what I could command as a consultant in Canada. The money that I am paid is not detracting from anything in Mongolian society because I am paid out of the funds raised from investors in the North American market. I am not providing any drain on the Mongolian economy. In fact, on an individual basis, the money that I am paid does become a positive in the Mongolian economy in that I do buy items which, to me, are bargains. This holds true for many of the expatriate employees here.

I am fortunate in that I am working for a company, Western Prospector, whose principals seem determined to see that any benefit they derive from this venture extends to the Mongolian people. Already they have a nucleus of senior Mongolian staff. In camp, the same facilities exist for all employees. The only different is the remuneration. All the expatriates here are working with the philosophy that we are here to train the Mongolians.

This is a far cry from the exploitation of resources in Africa where the principal beneficiaries were the shareholders and the expatriates. There was no thought that the indigenous population would ever benefit in any substantive way. Thank goodness those days are long gone.

Here in Mongolia I am very aware that there are expatriates in many fields: resources, aid agencies, manufacturing and evangelical. All of us are earning more money than the Mongolians (even the missionaries I'm sure). Within this influx of expatriates are people who will change how this country goes forwards. I like to think that my function is to see something positive results. Nothing would make me happier than to hear in ten years time that the geologists at the mine here are all Mongolians.
In the meantime, I consider myself lucky to have the opportunity. If Western Prospector sees fit to pay me what seems like an inflated wage, then like any good hooker I will try and ensure that they are satisfied!

Read more...