Mongolia Lost and Found (Part Two)

We are herded into a room where we wait to board our flight. It is about 9 AM. We look around and see a most eclectic group that will join us on our journey. The smorgasbord includes Mongolians (obviously), Chinese, Russians, North and South Koreans, and a group of Slavic looking young people that are way too happy...It is easy to tell the South Koreans from the North Koreans because they sit at opposite ends of the room and refuse even to make eye contact... In order to dispel any doubts about their political aspirations the North Koreans all sport a large picture of their fearless leader Kim Il-Sung on their lapel. He does not wear a smile either. Their refusal to communicate or look happy confirms their communist convictions. Not a happy crew and proud of it.

The time for our departure, approximately 10 AM, has come and gone. It is now mid afternoon and I find myself beginning to join the commies thinking my glass too is only half full and quickly on its way to a quarter full....None of [the Chinese] speak English so our pleas to determine what has gone wrong go ignored. We see that the North Koreans can speak Chinese and have information on the disposition of our flight. I have convinced Cho to cross the DMZ and address his countrymen to the North. They refuse to answer and literally turn their backs on him. Cho commands a new found display of English as he returns muttering “son of a bitch”. He also displays his patience and fortitude and on his third try one of the Koreans finally tells him our flight has been cancelled due to a snow storm in Ulaanbaatar. It is now 5 PM. We have been waiting for 8 hours, and the Slavic crazies in the corner of the room are still smiling. This is where the fun truly begins.

A Chinese official appears and asks us to follow him to a location unknown. We are guessing that we are in for an overnight stay in Beijing only because that is the standard outcome for this type of situation. Most of this is conjecture because all communication continues to be in Chinese only. We figure it is a good bet to follow the North Koreans, at least until, and unless, they begin to display warlike gestures.

We head toward some buses lined up outside until one of the Chinese officials realizes that we have all previously cleared immigration, so in effect we have already been sent out of the country and cannot be allowed back in. It is obvious they have no idea in hell what they are going to do with us so we are all gathered in the middle of a large room and they surround us with a rope that they are sure will prevent us from escaping and wreaking havoc among the masses. They still refuse to acknowledge that most of the Chinese population has access to the internet and are madly connecting to the outside world even as we stand corralled. Televised reruns of Bonanza no longer carry interest here. But I digress.

Our little group is now getting pretty testy and beginning to show signs of declaring independence when the Chinese decide the best solution is to declare us all persona non grata and take us to a local hotel. It strikes Cho and I that there has been no discussion about our luggage and we have the feeling that a) we may never see it again and b) we are beginning to smell bad. We decide, along with 3 or 4 others, that we will refuse to board the buses until our bags are found. The cold war escalates.