So what happened to yesterday?

I was a little surprised to see that I had apparently done nothing yesterday; no pictures, notes, memories, or whatever. I am reliably prompted by the ways of the world, and by past history, that yesterday did actually take place - it was not cancelled or if it was no-one told me. I just have a void there, with nothing to mark it distinct or special. This is the case even though we actually passed through the border into Mongolia. This inevitably took time; whilst immigration did its thing and customs searched our compartment. At least we were spared the hassle of luggage searches, an imposition reserved for the hard sleeper end of the train. Both the Russians and the Mongolians seem to work on the same principles for customs officers and immigration officials. A very large majority of them were women; in smart uniforms - all starch, knife edge creases, and impressive badges and decoration; many of them exceedingly attractive; trained extensively in sternness and the searching look; and generally very tough cookies. One gets the impression that they have been trained to deliver the same level of intimidation as that felt by Russian aviators in Afganistan - who prayed (sic) that if shot down and survived; they would not be handed over to the women.

I have taken very few pictures on, or from the train. I also realise that I have not really described the journey or the train. The causes are similar. It is a VERY long train journey - our 6th day so far and counting. There are all the normal limitations of photography from a train. The windows and doors are locked. The windows are all dirty. Reverse panning to counter the movement of the train is extremely difficult, especially in one wants to avoid the framing of the picture arbitarily curtailed by the frame of window or door. Yesterday and today we have been passing through Mongolian scenery (and now parts of the Gobi Desert). I love the Mongolian terrain, though I am not sure why. It is fairly monotonous; is a large terrain (though smaller than some); mostly rolling hills rather than mountains; very little scrubby, apparently dead vegetation; colour scheme, a limited palette of sandy gray and brown; an empty landscape; the most frequent sight, groups of bactrian camels - about three of four groups of around 15 animals per time, then lone horsemen, separated from each other by scores of kilometers; and very little else. But it is strangely attractive and has its own virtue. I would not count it in my top three terrains in the world, but it's certainly up there in the top ten.

The infamous samovar complete with engineering drawings.

The carriage I am in is a very well appointed carriage - a genuine first class, now the Chinese rather than the Russians are running the train. The compartment is two berthed, though since Ulaan Baator I have had it to myself. Wider than previous standard berths, with plenty of storage space under the bottom bunk, and over the door. The compartment has its own little shower room, which sounds a little grander than the reality - bathroom fittings in communal use do tend to get into, and stay in a rather manky condition. The whole carriage is fitted out in polished wood, carpeted throughout with high qualityy fitted carpet, with an attendant (as all the carriages do). It has a drop through toilet at either end, and next to the attendant's compartment is the world famous samovar. The carriages are heated by a coal fired boiler to produce either steam, or hot air (not sure which, though I think it the former). The samovar is just tacked on the back of the hot water boiler, thus ensuring (while the fires are in, which they are not for border crossings) a continual supply of boiling water.