To Russia With Love

Thankfully we met Irena and several other friendly and personable Russians over the last year because based on our travels through Russia, we would be led to believe that the Russians are not a particularly friendly people. It started with our 11 hour wait to get across the Mongolian and Russian borders. In 11 hours we managed to travel about 3 kilometres. I was told we had a speedy crossing. Hmmm! No strip or body cavity searches to break up the boredom.

We arrived in Irkutsk around 8:00 and were whisked away to Lake Baikal where we were spending a one night home stay with a local Russian family. Our room was tiny but the beds were soft and verrrrry comfortable. No door on our room, just a curtain and the toilet was outside. It was not as bad as it sounds. Our stay included all our meals and Galena did not disappoint. She was our Russian home stay host. She took it personal if we did not finish all the food that was put in front of us. Not a problem as it was all very tasty, made from many local ingredients. One especially tasty dish was the omul fish which is found only in Lake Baikal and is recommended that it be eaten with several glasses of vodka to avoid stomach problems. The hangover is optional.

Lake Baikal, Siberia is the deepest fresh water lake in the world. The lake could provide the drinking water for the entire world for at least forty years. It is so clear, you can see down over a 150 feet although it is over one mile deep in some spots. Did I mention it is also very cold, a balmy 8 degrees the day we arrived. It is said that if you swim in Lake Baikal you will increase your longevity by 25 years. Sounded good to me. Did I mention it was 8 degrees. I started my swim by a slow stepping immersion process. I had reached my calves when I started to have second thoughts about the need for an extra 25 years. I thought about it too long however as I lost the feeling in my feet and collapsed into the lake. I thrashed about for a few hours (perhaps only seconds) and struggled quickly out. My skin burned for several minutes after. The sensation was not unlike the feeling you get from frost bite. The boys disappeared and were not seen for some time. Luckily having children is not high in my priorities at this moment in my life.

The next day we were up early to catch a ferry across the lake and a train ride along the edge of the lake and back to Irkutsk where we overnighted in a hotel. The train ride was a slow but scenic trip. We stopped and visited several villages as well as a small protected bay where people picnicked and swam in the warmer (9 degrees) water of Lake Baikal. All in all, a nice way to spend a relaxing day. Did I mention that we had a cute personal guide that shepherded us for the entire trip. Got her to smile once or twice.


Irutsk is a modern looking city with lots of cafes and pubs to keep it interesting. We did not leave till the afternoon so we had several hours to explore the city. Tourism is just starting to evolve here with most staff having graduated with honours from the French school of tourism which believes the no matter who you are, you should be treated poorly and ignored as much as possible. Not a smile to be found anywhere. The three and one half day train ride to Moscow was starting to look good.

Smackdown in Mongolia

We left Sainschand on an overnight train to Ulaan Bataar. Luck was with us (me) as we shared our compartment with a cute Irish lass named Moreag. The trip was an over nighter and had us arriving at about 7:00 am the next morning. Moreag and Nonie took the top bunks and I the bottom as in all likelihood it would be me making the 3:00 am walk to the bathroom. About 4:00 am I awoke to this gentle moaning coming from the top bunks. Not a snore but more a soft low mooooaaaann. Knowing Nonie's snore, I realized quickly it was Moreag. I fell back to sleep secure in the knowledge that she was probably dreaming of me in the bottom bunk.

We arrived into Ulaan Bataar on the first day of the Nadaam Festival. The festival is celebrated all over Mongolia but the mother of all parties is in Ulaan Bataar, the capital of Mongolia. We were swept off the train and dropped off at a slightly run down stadium. The place was hopping with huge sumo-esque types wearing bathrobes, which we quickly deduced were wrestlers. Wrestling is huge in Mongolia and is a big part of the Nadaam Festival. It is not WWF wrestling. There is no ring, no masks or makeup. The match involves grappling with each other out in the middle of the stadium field till one of them manages to force the other's knee or shoulder to the ground. There are no weight classes so the small guys fight the big guys until there is just one man standing. The wrestling will go on for all three days of the festival.

From the stadium we were rushed out to the other big event of the Nadaam, horse racing. Not the typical North American horse race but a real horse race with the distance any where from 12 to 20 kilometres depending on the age of the horses. The race we were to watch involved horses who were at least 7 years old. The horses are ridden by young male jockeys, some not more than seven years old over a distance of 12 kilometres. You cannot watch the whole race only the finish but you can see them coming from a long ways off. The horses are ridden hard out for the whole race. Just where we were located we watched three horses collapse and die. We heard several more had collapsed and did not get up at the finish line as well. Not a great end to our day.

Our second ger (pronounced gar) camp was a step up from our first one with eight operating showers and hot water. We were still pumped up from the wrestling and perhaps a bottle (or two) of wine and next thing I know I was throwing it down with Aaron and some poor Singaporean honeymooner for the wrestling championship of the ger (pronounced gar) camp. But as you know what happens in Mongolia stays in Mongolia.

Next stop, Russia.

Giddeeyup!

Riding a camel is a bit like ridding a bike. A bike that has had the seat removed. Imagine sitting on a triangle, the pointy end. Then shake the triangle from side to side while moving it up in down in a jerky motion. You have just described a camel ride. Thankfully it only lasted a few minutes or I would never be able to have children. Thus started our second day on the Gobi Desert. I should mention that I just milked the camel so she may have been a bit cranky.

Fermented camels milk, or as it is affectionately known "white beer". We were served a mug while visiting the ger (pronounced gar) camp of a family of camel breeders. They wanted to get us drunk before we met the camels we were to ride. I realize now why. Nonie wins the prize for drinking all hers while I made it till the chunky parts. Will it catch on in North America? I don't think Molsons has anything to worry about.

Then it was off to the Black Mountain for a quick climb. You can see the Mountain from miles away as it is the highest point in the otherwise flat terrain. Climbed to the top for a great view. But men only. Women are not allowed to climb to the top. Some religious rule. A rule probably started by a Mongolian wife who did not feel the need to follow her husband up the hill on a hot Mongolian summer day. The upside, is if you get to the top, you can make a wish for yourself. I still waiting for mine to happen. If anyone hears that Shania is touring in Estonia in the next week, please let me know.

We did manage to fit in a quick visit to a site where they had discovered some dinosaur bones. Rory the five year old, son of our fellow travelers, the Taylor's, Aaron and Shelly, had been promised that we would be looking for dinosaur bones. Well if it is one thing the Gobi has, is lots of bones laying around. Despite its bucolic look it can be a tough place to live. To a young five year old, they were all dinosaur bones. He filled his backpack a couple of times over the two days. Mom and Dad had bought a real prehistoric tooth in Taiwan which was artfully seeded for him to find. He was ecstatic, thankfully as he was not taking all those other bones home. I can just see the look on the face of the customs guy who looked into that suitcase if he had taken them all.

Back to the ger (pronounced gar) camp for lunch, a nap and then on to the train station for an overnight to Ulaan Baatar where we are to enjoy a day at the Nadaam Festival then on to another ger (pronounced gar) camp which I am told is nicer than the first one.

Five Bars Over Mongolia

For you Blackberry addicts, you will be pleased to know that no matter where you are on the Gobi Desert, you can get cell phone connections. I could not get it in my apartment in Penticton but miles in the middle of nowhere in Mongolia, we are getting five bars. Telus should hire some Mongolians to work on their cell system. After a short 16 hour train ride from Beijing we arrived in Sainschand Mongolia at about 5:00 am. Most of the time was spent at the border dealing with immigration issues. After a pleasant strip search and some scowls we were allowed to leave China and enter Mongolia.
Our first stop was a ger (pronounced gar) camp located about 2o kilometres from Sainschand where we were to spend two nights. It was a basic camp with not a lot of amenities. Our ger (pronounced gar) was nicely appointed but the washrooms were a couple of 100 feet away. A long trip at around four in the morning with a wonky flashlight. One shower that sort of worked if you squatted down to use it as there was not enough water pressure to push it all the way to the end of the spray nozzle if you were standing. Some hot water, but cold showers were the order of the day. After all we were in the Gobi Desert.
The Gobi is not all sand dunes, most of it is made up of thin scrub where camels, sheep, goats and horses can find a few things to eat. Raising these animals is still the way of life for most Mongolians living in the Gobi. The live in gers (pronounced gars) and migrate at least three or four times a year. Mostly to assure that the camels, goats, sheep and horses have something to eat and to prevent over grazing.
A short nap and some breakfast, we headed out to a Monastery called Khamar. It has existed in the middle of the desert for almost 200 years. It it located here as it is near a source of some kind of power. It is a working monastery still today. There seems to be a huge deposit of iron in the area as the landscape is dotted with huge mounds of red dirt. Perhaps the power is magnetic. Despite the fact of its remote location, it was very busy with a few tourists but mostly Mongolians come to worship.
We were joined on our adventures by a couple and their young son. Americans currently living in Taiwan. We were stuffed into a minivan and transported around the Gobi at breakneck speeds over roads that had not existed a week before. If there was no road, we just sort of headed into the right direction. We got stuck in the sand once. But there was enough of us to push ourselves back on to solid ground. Not a problem. We could have easily called MAA (Mongolian Automobile Association) to send out some tow-camels. Remember we have great cell phone reception.

Later on our return to the ger (pronounced gar) camp, we came across a well where a Mongolian family was watering their goats, sheep, cattle and camels. They dropped huge canvas bags down into the well, pulled them up and dumped them into troughs where the camels, sheep, goats jockeyed for position get a drink. Finished, they jumped into their old truck (after using a big hand crank to get it started) and a couple of motorcycles and roared off home while the animals meandered off to find something to eat. It was a great end to our first day in Mongolia.

The New Adventure Begins

Dropped into the Bird's Nest and the Water Cube on our first day in Beijing. It seemed appropriate as our new adventure involves a job working in the Athletes Village for the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. I start on August 10 and will be let go mid April. I had not planned to work in facilities ever again, but this is an opportunity that I cannot let go by. It means delaying our return to China by a year but it is an experience that will be just as exciting and mind boggling as our past year has been. Nonie and I plan to rent a nice condo in downtown Vancouver for the time we are there. Close to work and all the good (and bad) things that Vancouver has to offer. You are all welcome to visit us if you get the notion.


We spent our last day in Beijing with our friend Chao. We met Chao in our first few weeks in Harbin. He was hanging out in the hall outside my classroom. He was looking for some help to polish his English on his resume he was making for grant applications to US universities. We took the project on and happy to say he was accepted with a full scholarship to Texas A & M starting this fall. We hope to see him some time in Vancouver if he can fit it in.

We depart for Mongolia on Tuesday July 6th. Getting excited.

The Fat Lady Has Sung

The last week in Harbin was a whirlwind of lunches and dinners saying goodbyes to departing friends. It culminated on Friday night when we introduced the concept of "pot luck" to our Chinese friends. We feasted KFC, delicous quiches, pizza, rice balls and thanks to Tom and Aileen, fresh grilled hamburgers. Lots of food, beer and laughs

Saturday was departure day and a sad day for us. The younguns have been a wonderful part of our life for the last year and we are taking away some great memories. Takae, the daughter we never had. Branson, the rogue son who's antics both thrilled and dismayed us. Brian the enigma with the dryest sense of humour (That's humor for Brian) this side of the Gobi. Tom, our quiet son with a lot to say. Edoardo, our long lost Italian son who shepherded Nonie safely around Harbin and always made us feel special.

A big thanks to our friends Justin and Janie, who helped us in so many ways. We so enjoyed sharing our traditions with them, we will miss their smiles and thier friendship.

Many things went unsaid Saturday morning but were expressed in the fierce hugs we gave each other. We look forward to the future and the opportunity to meet them all again.

Our newest adventures began when we entered the car for the aiport.

It's a Girl!

Nonie and I would like to introduce you to the latest addition to the Cornell Dynasty. Unlike the Qing Dynasty who faded into obscurity, we continue to beat the odds and make babies. Sweet! Her name is Isla (Eye-la)Jean and she entered the world in the early morning of June 23rd at a whopping 7 pounds and 7+ ounces. Granmma and Grampa are doing fine. Oh and mom is too. Dad is still wondering what happened to the dangly bit but I will explain it to him when we see him at the beginning of August. The perils of having the "TALK" so early in his childhood as he has forgotten the "girls are different from boys" segment of the "TALK". We didn't have access to PowerPoint presentations back then. Although he did manage to make a baby. Hmmm?

Having had only boys to raise and no nieces close by, we are a little lost as to what the protocols are for baby girls. No help here in China where the male child still remains supreme, especially with the " one family, one child" rule. As all good grandparents do, we will make decisions based on what feels good and to hell with the future consequences. "To raise a child is great but to spoil is divine."

In China, children are either spoiled or forgotten depending on the economic circumstances of the family. There is a huge divide between how a child is raised if you are a have or have not. Some of my students have not seen their fathers except for a few times a year when they return for short vacations from jobs that may be thousands of mile away from their home province. Moving your family to where you work is closely regulated and not easy to do. There are over 150,000,000 itinerant workers in China so you can imagine the number of children growing up in a one parent household. Sometimes both parents must move to where the work is but thankfully grandparents quite often fill the void of the missing parents.

For the most part, children are revered here and no sacrifice is too great for parents to make so that their children can live a better life than they did. Parental sacrifices are a recurring theme that we have heard from a few of our students. Hearing these stories, sometimes made me feel remorseful as I do not remember much sacrifice when we were raising our two boys but then sacrifice is in the eye of the beholder.

We are busy this week with goodbye dinners and a little adminstration work. We have already said goodbye to Brian with others following every couple of days. There have been a few tears shed and I suspect a few more to come.