Hangin' out in UB town

Our last week in Mongolia was just like hanging around home, waiting. With a week to wait before we could enter Russia (the visa situation isn't very welcoming...), we made ourselves at home at the Golden Gobi Hostel. We went to the Black Market, the movies and out for drinks with fellow travellers who came to call the Golden Gobi home, and were mostly waiting for Russian visas as well. We saw some characters come and go - Matt, a loose as 32-year-old Canadian heading home to study philosophy after three years teaching in Korea; Daniel, an equally loose German chap, who refused to pay exorbitant amounts for a tour of Mongolia and so bought a mountain bike from the Black Market and headed for China. He came back three days later, his bike was stolen while he was sleeping in his tent on the side of the road. There was Arnold, an inspiration - 80 years old and spends 10 months a year travelling on his own. He could well start every sentence with 'When I was there, in 1972...' and we would listen because he was a mad dude. "Last time I rode a camel was in Egypt in '64." What a trooper. Then there were the owners, Bob and his sister Enushka, gigglers and tale tellers but a wealth of knowledge and thirsting for more; Mama, the best tea maker ever (probably the three spoons of sugar she would put in), and always telling us to stay warm (we should have listened); and thre two Mongolian housekeepers/caretakers/washing ladies/cooks/cleaners (the carpet...with a toothbrush...)/ and door bitches, one of whom Phill woke up at 5am with a drunk Mongolian on his back, trying to find poor Odka a bed...
It was a cool place to hang out for a week, but we had itchy feed by the end. On our last day we hit the slopes - Mongolia's own two-lift, three-run ski resort. For about $20 we got a shuttlebus, ski and snowboard hire, clothes, lift ticker, and lunch! The snow was bearable, a little icy, but remained well-groom all day - we were the only ones there to carve it up. We took crazy German Daniel along and Phill taught him how to snowboard. Phill and I entered another stage of our relationship by discovering we are compatible even though he snowboards and I ski - I just beat him in races, but he's ok with that.
Our last night in town, we had curry with Andrew and took our the hostel common room for 'farewell' drinks. We had a very dusty walk to the trains station on Tuesday, accompanied by Daniel and Arnold. Pirman (a German) and Stephen (a Canadian) were in our carriage as well so it was like a moving extension of the Golden Gobi.
We had sleeping berths in second class, sharing with 'Andy', a Russian, about 24 years old, who had lived in UB for eight years but was heading home to Krasnoyarsk for an operation on hi leg, broken when snowboarding! He was very quiet bu gradually began telling us about Russia, his job in UB and how his boss dodges Mongolian taxes, and places he's travelle o learn English.
At the Mongolian border town, lots of traders got on the train and began unpacking their wares around the carriage. Andy told us that they're only allowed one bag, so they hide their plastic-wrapped shirts and tracksuits, bottles of whiskey and packets of toilet paper (?) in other people's luggage, if they let them, and on all the common shelves and tables. Dodgy business. We were glad to have Andy to explain all this, and translate at the border for us. There were no problems for us, but the guards were hardly convinced that this Mongolian trader had just one bag, and was getting off at the border train - not much to see there! Once all the immigration business was done, the provodnik (carriage attendant) bought 't-shirts, four, extra large' from the trader. He's in on the action as well.