Ulaan Bataar -- gateway to Mongolia

A giant Buddha below Zaisan Hill in Ulaan Bataar. Picture / Jim Eagles

Ulaan Bataar in Mongolia is said to be the coldest capital city in the world. I'm not sure about that - it was warm when I was there in summer - but it's certainly the ugliest capital city.

Yes, I know there are quite a few contenders for that title, but I've seen nothing to touch Ulaan Bataar's combination of piles of concrete rubble, tasteless Soviet-style buildings, smashed footpaths, barren parks, wrecked monuments, piles of rubbish and, the clincher, the dotting of factories, power-plants and wreckers' yards through the residential and shopping areas.

But, before you turn up your nose and resolve to stay away, remember the old Yorkshire saying, "Where there's muck, there's brass."

Ulaan Bataar is the gateway to Mongolia, a beautiful, friendly, fascinating land, and amid the city's squalor there are some gems which neither decades of communism nor the present crony capitalism have managed to destroy.

To be fair, the ugliness is not always quite what it seems. For instance, power plants in residential areas pipe waste steam to apartment blocks to warm them in winter.

The barren parks are apparently the result of locals digging up every scrap of ground to grow food after the fall of communism - even traffic islands became vege patches - and there is a big effort being made to re-beautify them by planting trees and erecting new sculptures.

The piles of rubble are, evidently, a step on the path to replacing the hideous Soviet-style blockhouses with modern buildings.

Sukhbataar Square, home of the Mongolian Parliament, is an attractive open space with a lively statue of the eponymous Sukhbataar - his name means Red Axe - who won independence from China (though it did result in 70 years under the Russian yoke instead).

There is even a level of free speech which bodes well for the future. While I was there a group of elderly folk in traditional costumes erected flags and banners beside the statue and staged an amiable protest rally.

And in front of Parliament, work is almost complete on a monument to the country's greatest son, Genghis Khan, something which would have been forbidden under the Russians.

Buddhism was banned, too, and most of the monasteries destroyed, but since the collapse of communism it is flourishing again.

Below Zaisan Hill, which offers panoramic views of Ulaan Bataar from a gloriously kitsch monument to Russian-Mongolian friendship, a giant Buddha was erected a year ago and is attracting a steady stream of pilgrims.

By contrast, the nearby Museum of Lenin has been converted into government offices, there no longer being much enthusiasm for the father of the Russian revolution.

A clearer sign of the change is that Gandan Monastery, one of the few not to be razed, is a thriving Buddhist centre with 600 monks and around 300 pupils in a Buddhist school (though that is still a far cry from its heyday when there were 5000 monks).

Still, the English-speaking monk who showed us around was glowing with pride in the progress that has been made in the 16 years since communism was overthrown.

The imposing Migjed Janraisig temple, a symbol of independence for Mongolians, but, as our monk guide recalled bitterly, for a time used to stable Russian horses, is again a place of worship.

Watching the timeless rituals, the chanting, beating of drums, spinning of prayer-wheels and burning of incense, is given an extra poignancy by the fact that not so long ago such activities were forbidden.

The temple's 26.5m standing Buddha statue - the third largest in the world - which was destroyed by the communists in 1938 has been rebuilt in copper and gold with the aid of donations from the Buddhist community.

Surrounding it are some 5000 smaller Buddha figures in different sizes and styles, some salvaged from the original temple and hidden, others given by the faithful.

There are about a dozen temples in the complex. One is used for the school, another as a library for Buddhist manuscripts and several are institutes for different schools of Buddhist thought, many originating in Tibet.

Indeed, one of the temples, the 100-year-old Dedanpovran, was built as a home for the 13th Dalai Lama.

Also in Ulaan Bataar is the palace of the Bogd Khan, Mongolia's living-Buddha king, the last of whom died in 1924 - and was banned from reincarnating by the communists - so it is now a religious museum.

There is also a good Museum of National History, with a marvellous collection of traditional Mongolian artefacts and costumes, made more intriguing because it is in transition from a Soviet-style political correctness to an acknowledgement of the conquests of Genghis and the oppression of communism, though not yet the flaws in the new capitalism.

Still, capitalism is producing better hotels, restaurants and bars, even if some do have strange names like Ugly, Dublin, Black Cat and, my favourite, the Impress Restaurant.

At many you can enjoy traditional entertainment, including contortionists, dancers and Mongolian music, although a performance at one of the city's folk theatres is even better.

The pursuit of the tourist dollar has also led to the creation of a new sport, yak polo, with two teams of riders in traditional costumes racing their hairy, horned mounts around the pitch, swatting the ball with mallets.

Corny, sure, but hilarious to watch. And, according to our commentator, serving the useful purpose of helping to preserve the Mongolian yak population which had been declining in the face of competition from motorised transport.

Capitalism has also, according to locals, led to big improvements in shopping - for those who have money to spend - especially at the marvellous state-owned cashmere factory or the giant state department store with its amazing array of Mongolian products.

But if you want to see the other side to the new economic regime, and understand why many Mongolians mourn the collapse of communism, just wander through the sprawling shantytowns which have grown up on the outskirts of Ulaan Bataar.

These have been produced by the same drift to the cities in search of work that you'll find all over the world, but with a local twist in the form of a recent Government edict allowing each individual to fence off and take ownership of 700 sq m of the formerly communally owned land.

As a result the settlements consist of quite large blocks of land, usually with 2m high wooden fences, most containing one or two of Mongolia's traditional white round ger tents - which at least makes them more romantic-looking than most shantytowns - plus the usual shacks, sewage smells, dirt roads, piles of rubbish, abandoned cars and occasional livestock.

These sprawling slums are also home to the Lotus Children's Centre, founded by Australian kindergarten teacher Didi Kalika, which provides food, shelter and education for 140 homeless children.

The idea for the centre arose after Kalika asked a local what would happen to a street kid sheltering in a doorway near her apartment and was told, "It will die tonight."

Fortunately, she says, the kindergarten where she was working had a lot of spare space, because the Government had recently introduced fees, so "I was able to do a deal with them to live there myself and provide a home for some of the children."

Thirteen years on and, somewhat to her surprise, she has a staff of 40, mostly volunteers, a budget of US$100,000 ($160,000) a year, largely provided by foreign donors, a school set up in an old supermarket building, accommodation for children on three sites and several teenage orphans who are attending university.

Visiting the centre is a moving experience, seeing the obvious affection between the Mongolian children and their Australian "mother", the enthusiasm with which hungry youngsters wolf the meals the centre provides and the pride in the faces of older children when they show off their work.

It's evidence that where's there's muck, there's not only brass, but gold.

* The Lotus Children's Centre can be contacted through Australian Volunteers International, PO Box 350, Fitzroy, Victoria, 3065, Australia or see link below.