Just when we think we can relax in Ulaanbataar for a couple weeks after having slept on the ground for the previous two weeks, we are sadly mistaken. Getting to China, and even worse, getting from China to Kathmandu, Nepal is proving to be very difficult to organize. Things are never as easy as you think they'll be.
The following may sound like complaining, and maybe it is. I go back and forth about writing negative stuff in our blog, considering how lucky we are to be doing this trip, but since this is such a significant part of our travelling experience, I want to describe it.
Yesterday, we got up-close and personal with the beurocratic nightmare that is the Office of Immigration, Naturalization and Foreign Citizens in Ulaanbataar, Mongolia. We found out over the weekend that if an American wants to spend more than 30 days in the country of Mongolia, they must register with this office within 7 days of arrival in the country. Nevermind that all Americans get a free 90 day visa upon arrival and are not told this information! If you happen to find out you need to stay in the country for more than 30 days due to train restrictions exiting the country and China entrance visa restrictions, and did not already registered within the first 7 days, you are in for a treat.
First, you get to enjoy trying to find the place. This may sound insignificant, but since Mongolia does not use addresses to define locations (instead they use the "over by the square, across the street from the red building" system), it makes it very difficult. It makes it especially difficult when the location description given on the government office website is completely wrong!
So you manage to find the right building. Next, after filling out all the forms, making the required photocopies, and submitting everything they tell you to, the whole office leaves for lunch. You wait for an hour in their office for fear that you'll find yourself in the back of a long line. When they return, you are told that you should have done this registration within the first week of arrival. You may say, "but we did not know this, and are only staying 7 extra days (37 of our 90 allowable days!) due to exiting train and China visa restrictions". You are immediately and confidently shown that you should have known about this fine print in the law because it is written on the front door of their office. Ohhhh, of course, you should have somehow known to come to this government office, magically learn how to read cyrillic on the spot (the law is written in cryllic on the door), and realize you better register just in case something unforseen happens and you must stay longer than 30 of you 90 allotted visa days.
You are then told that you should write a letter describing your situation and submit it to the Audit and Revisions Office (an unoccupied window across the room). You pull out a piece of notebook paper and write a respectful short letter asking for leaniancy and to be registered. You wait another 20 minutes for someone to submit the letter to, because these Audit and Revision guys are the fat-cats who run the show and can stay at lunch as long as they like. When the letter is given to one of these fellows, he does not even look at it and tells the translation girl to explain you must pay 100,000 T per tourist (this amounts to about $185 for two). At this point your jaw may hit the floor (ours did). You may also sit down on the floor and cry, or get that deer-in-the-headlights look for an extended period of time.
Once you come to, you weigh your options. Pay this rediculous fine or worry and risk being stopped at the border as you leave the country (in the middle of the night). You may think that paying the fine is the easier, although painful, option. Think again. In trying to pay the damn fine, you are bounced around on command with no forethought from window to window, to neighboring banks, to photocopy machines, and more letter writing. I think the letter writing is the best part. You are handed a photocopy of a letter that some poor sap in a similar situation wrote months ago and are directed via body languange to write your own letter saying the same thing. These fat-cats can't read a word of english so you can write whatever strikes your fancy. This is only another piece of paper these men get paid to push. Oh yah, and when you hand them the letter saying you think their sister is ugly, they won't take it unless you give them a little cash in the process. You also hand over you passport which is lost TWICE on the most unorganized desk you've ever seen. You must watch very carefully every step, because at this point, you know what needs to be done better than the officials themselves. One slip on your part, and the official incorrectly fills out two forms for one person and no form for the other. After you correct the official and show him how to do his job, you have what you need and can finally pay the fine. But not before standing in one more line and fighting off, as you have in every other line you've been in that day, all the people that do not know about the concept of a line.
Lastnight I stayed up until 4AM reading "All Quiet on the Western Front". Wow, we have it good!
We've made it to Chengdu, China.
