When Sarah Marquis, in her book, “Wild by Nature,” walked through Mongolia, she was harassed by men on horseback, and sometimes one of the men would urinate next to her, as if he were marking his territory. I never understood why, it was never explained in her book. The women were also not friendly, which made it impossible to get to know any of them. So, I thought maybe this book by Erika Warmbrunn would provide an answer; it did not. What I received instead, was a great read, a different perspective.
Erika road her bicycle through Mongolia in 1994, and the people were wonderful to her, the men did not harass her, and none of them urinated next to her; they were all respectful. I can only come to one conclusion: she had not gone through the same villages as Sarah had. Even in America, where I live, we have friendly and unfriendly cities and towns, and they are not just unfriendly to foreigners; they are also unfriendly to all outsiders, Americans included. So maybe when some Mongolian men urinated next to Sarah, it was not to mark his territory.
I loved Erika’s book, and this time I even loved the Mongolian people. Their culture seemed ideal in some ways. They shared everything. It was somewhat communal for even slept in the same room, which include all of their relatives. I would want more privacy. Other families have their own homes, but anyone could just walk into each other’s homes without knocking, even stay awhile, spend the night and have a meal. Erika was always hinting to get invited to spend the night, but she knew that she did not have to even hint; it was the American way to ask. What she did was ask if there were any hotels nearby.
What they really lacked was good food. Erika said that she loved the food, the mutton stew, the yak’s milk, fermented and unfermented. There was little variety in the villages. The mutton stew would keep me from booking a flight to Mongolia. I do not eat lamb, and the only ingredient that Erika mentioned being in this stew was onions. They may have added yak’s milk to it. They just did not have many spices. I looked up a recipe for mutton stew, and it was filled with spices, nothing like what she had eaten. Nor would I have liked yak’s milk, but I am not certain. I learned from living here that I love fresh goat’s milk, except during the season when they are eating wildflowers that grow in the wild grasses in the fields, so maybe it is the same with yak’s milk. Anyway, I wanted to give you all a recipe for mutton stew as prepared in the villages, but I could not find one. I could tell you how to make yak’s milk, but I think everyone knows how, even if they do not know how to milk a yak. And I can not teach you since I do not even know how to milk a cow.
Then Erika was offered a teaching job, so she stayed in one of the villages to teach English for a month before moving on to China and then Vietnam. She even taught the kids the song, “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” Little did she know that that song would have more meaning in China and Vietnam.
So, what about these two other countries? She loved the Chinese food, but the police were always asking her for her papers, and this did not take just a few minutes but often hours. It was obvious that this was ruining the trip for her, as she spent little time there and headed for Vietnam where the children would gather around her, mocking, hitting, and calling her names, which caused her to head into the country where it was quiet. It was then that she found the people to be more friendly, and the children kind and helpful. But not much went on in Vietnam either. Her strong point was Mongolia, and this made the book well worth reading. If you were to ask me which book was best, I could not tell you.
A thoroughly enjoyable travel book from the point of view of a woman who is not really soul-seeking, not healing from a tragic life event, not exoticizing the people she encounters or the places she goes.
Erika Warmbrunn is a young woman in the early 1990s who has a lot of world travel under her belt. A somewhat failed theater nerd with serious wanderlust, she sets out to explore a place that not many people go, that wouldn't be on most people's summer itineraries -- Mongolia. She decides to ride her bike from Russia, near the Mongolian border, all the way through Mongolia, through China, and through Vietnam down to Saigon. But the heart of the book is Mongolia.
Speaking as someone who knew very little about Mongolia prior to reading this book, the author does a great job describing the Mongolian countryside and culture. Sandwiched geographically and culturally between the U.S.S.R. and communist China for many decades, in the early 1990s Mongolia was experiencing a re-appropriation of some of the Mongolian cultural elements that had been stifled by Soviet patronage.
What Warmbrunn finds in Mongolia is something that makes your heart ache -- a cultural and societal innocence that is unattainable in the developed world. People do not knock on each other's doors - they just walk in. Young children can leave their homes for hours without the parents worrying about accidents and abductions. Several generations live together under one roof without anyone feeling like they are a burden. Gifts are given freely and food is a constant relationship binding agent between friends and strangers alike.
There is also a complete lack of privacy and an unrelenting grasp on doing things "the way they have always been done." People have very little money and almost no "modern" amenities. There are also seemingly no vegetables. Like, ever. Warmbrunn manages to make herself a carrot salad one day and a well-meaning friend points out to her that "carrots are for horses."
Only about a third of the book is dedicated to Mongolia - the rest is divided up between China and Vietnam, but you can tell that the country and its people are what Warmbrunn really fell in love with during her trip.
Once she is outside of Mongolia and into China, the landscape and the people change. The impact of capitalism on the Chinese people is noticeable at every turn - everything is about money, how much things cost, how little one pays, how much money does your father make?
The culture is different, the homes are different, and the language remains a constant struggle, whereas after a couple of months in Mongolia Warmbrunn becomes somewhat conversational. From the felt tents in Mongolia, Warmbrunn spends her nights in cement boxes and encounters Chinese bureaucracy.
Once in Vietnam, she struggles with the echoes of the Vietnam War and what her whiteness and Americanness amid the Vietnamese people mean. There is definitely white-man's burden going on, but it is respectfully analyzed. She is constantly chased and harassed by screaming children - something that brings out her worst side which she speaks honestly about.
There are some endearing bits like the fact that she names her bike and refers to it in such loving terms that you forget the bike (Greene) is not a person, or at the very least, a semi-horse. The people she meets along the way mostly shatter the stereotypes she had expected to encounter. We learn what could happen to a young woman's body when she starts bicycling long distances every day and the irony of how our bodies can process even the most foreign (to us) foods that are completely natural, and what happens when we then suddenly re-introduce processed food (clue: NOT good).
There are some criticisms that I have about this book, but they are very minor and have mostly to do with the rush in which she occasionally moves from one scene to the next. But I have a very high tolerance for long narratives, and perhaps she wanted to steer clear of making the book overly long.
Overall, two thumbs up for this book, and kudos to Warmbrunn for showing that a woman can set out to explore the world on her own and on her own terms without having to be fearful at every turn.
A young woman takes a trip through three countries on a bicycle. The premise is remarkable. The woman knows almost nothing about the places she visits, but learns a little something along the way. While I usually cringe when people jump into a world and culture vastly different from their own without any preparation, I have to give credit to Erika for her writing. She conveys the trip so well that I can really empathize with Erika along each step of her journey. When she is amazed and inspired I feel it. When she is exhausted, travel weary, and increasingly irritable towards the end of the trip I get it. She is honest about her shortcomings as a traveler, and I think she was as open-minded and progressive a traveler as I could have hoped for as a reader. She makes a few mistakes in pinyin (suo vs. shuo) and naming ... a song or a movie, but I think that is a reflection of how the book is her perspective and not an academic non-fiction work (in parts of China, possibly where she traveled, the h isn't used anyway).
It's an enjoyable book, and I learned some Mongolian along the way.
Learning about Mongolia’s culture was the best part of the novel and it really should have ended there. As Erika travels through China and Vietnam her tone and demeanour begins to change. The way she treats Chinese and Vietnamese villagers literally living in poverty (!!!) is appalling and her distaste for the culture is obvious. Erika is an American woman travelling alone on a bike, her privilege is literally overwhelming, yet she can’t pay an extra 30 cents for her food and board in a poor villagers home because she “feels” like she’s being taken advantage of???? Trash.
Warmbrunn is a remarkable woman who goes on a remarkable journey and writes this mostly excellent account of it. I would have rated this book more highly except that I can't stand it when people refer to their cars, guns, or in this case, bikes, as if they were human. Warmbrunn's continual reference to "Greene", her bike, as if it were a person, was a distraction and detracted from the otherwise eloquent telling of an amazing tale.
Are you kidding me? This woman take off in 1992 and travels thru mongolia, vietnam, and china. BY HERSELF!!! She meet the locals, and they invite her in. She sleeps in the same bed as the entire family, and sometimes sleeps under the stars. gets me ready to explore off the grid. (on my bike, of course)
I didn't finish reading this book. I love cycling and I love travel, and I love them mashed together; however, I can't stand the author's tone. She's so critical. A book that can appreciate other cultures without disparaging others would have been better.
Having recently suffered thru Sarah Marquis’ trek thru Mongolia in Wild By Nature I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to go there. Hearing that this woman had a much more pleasant trip thru Mongolia on her bicycle I decided to read it.
Yes, she did have a better time. She hung around awhile, made some friends and even taught school. It’s like it was a different Mongolia. She then went on to bike thru China and Vietnam which she didn’t enjoy so much.
I usually want to travel to the places I read about but neither book increased my desire to visit Mongolia.
I loved the beginning of this book. Her descriptions of Russia and Mongolia by bike were fascinating and beautiful, the way she shared her experiences with the people and especially her month of teaching was really cool. I think maybe as the reader I liked it the best because she clearly thrived during this part of the trip. The next section, her travels through China felt forced and unhappy. And even worse in Vietnam because she felt the least like she belonged there and also was just tired by that point after months and months on the road. She never had a period on this trip so clearly she was pushing her body to the limits. I wish she would have had some more introspection about her travels through China and Vietnam but she seems to not be willing and even said she had few specific memories from her time in Vietnam.
Interesting, for the most part an account of cultural travel and realization that was not too Eurocentric or "white man's burden"-y. But oddly kind of flat, started down certain roads and never really completed the journey or thought, sort of like certain accounts of her abbreviated travels.
Why travel by bicycle? “Because a bicycle is freedom; a bicycle is independence; a bicycle is self-sufficiency,” writes Erika Warmbrunn. “Because a bicycle lands you in places you didn’t know you wanted to go, and shows you things you didn’t know you wanted to see…”
And there is also the sheer exhilaration: “The flying abandon of a bicycle, legs pumping, body and wheels skimming above the land, cycling for the sake of cycling”—at least when the roads are good. Often, of course, they aren’t good: as Warmbrunn travels from Irkutsk to Saigon, she has to cope with roads that are torn up, or icy, or muddy. In one coal-mining village, she bicycles through such ash-laden air that she can hardly breathe. But she copes extraordinarily well.
Where the Pavement Ends describes an impressive journey. Traveling alone, with her bike—which she calls Greene—Warmbrunn covers 8000 kilometers in 8 months. She set out, she tells us, because she’d failed in her aspirations to have an acting career, and she wanted to get away. But it is clear from this book that she also wanted to experience something new. A natural traveler, open to adventure, she throws herself into the experience fully.
It is this openness, the willingness to explore—whether languages, landscapes, or food—that carries the book. Of the four sections, the best two are set in Mongolia, partly because she clearly loved the land and its generous people, partly because she stayed there a month to teach English and got to know individuals, and partly because she isn’t yet worn out. She can still take with humor the “Seven Questions” that everyone asks: “Where are you from?” “Where are you coming from?” “Where are you going? “Alone?!” “You’re not scared?” “How old are you?” “Are you married?”
As the book progresses, through China and Vietnam, she expresses her increasing exhaustion, her increasing need for time alone—away from the people crowding to see the foreigner—and her frustration at a less-than-friendly response to her presence, especially in Vietnam, where children are openly hostile. The Seven Questions wear thin.
This is a warm and honest book. Because it is essentially a travelogue, dependent more on the line of the journey than a strong narrative, it seemed to me to lack momentum. What makes the account rewarding is not just the author’s openness to experience, but her ability to observe that experience. Warmbrunn is a perceptive traveler, extremely sensitive to her own and others’ responses. And of course, there is the remarkable feat of the journey itself.
There is good and bad to this book. I would recommend it only to a reader who is particularly interested in this specific genre, rather than a general reader eager to expand her horizons. When I sit down and read an adventure memoir, I expect a couple of things. The first is to become a traveler in the land where the author is and explore it from my couch in my mind's eye. The second is to be told the tale in a well-written style. While Warmbrunn is not a bad writer, she isn't a terribly good one either. I have to think that the publishing deal certainly came because of her bravery and adventure, not because of her writing style. It was tedious getting through her long sentences filled with similes, and it had none of the easy style that I typically prefer in travel-writing books such as Bill Bryson's. (For example, when describing the Great Wall of China, Warmbrunn writes: "The storied serpent of ancient brick felt alive, immutable, and more impressive than anything I had ever imagined it to be.") That kind of writing just kills me, especially when the book is fraught with it.
The part, however, that seemed the worst to me was the part where she speeds (sometimes rudely) through Vietnam. She is honest about how she was tired of the trip by then, and I can respect that. I respect her when she says that the children were constantly harassing her and I'm sure that no doubt contributes to a poor time. I was just discouraged because the cycling part through Vietnam was a substantial distance and yet comprises little of the book. Far more time was spent gushing about Mongolia, which was interesting to be sure. But honestly, a recount of some of her English lessons in Mongolia took far more book space than her experience in the Mekong Delta, which comprised only two-thirds of a page in the entire book---and that was a part that I couldn't wait to read about. Part of me wanted the part about Vietnam to be much more expansive, as it was a big reason that I picked up the book; the other part of me, however, was just eager to end the thing so I could start reading something new.
This book earned three solid stars for her honesty, her bravery, and the excitement that she relayed to the reader about Mongolia. The author was willing to spend significant time off the beaten path getting to know what life was really like in Mongolia and China, just not in Vietnam. I definitely respect her journey!
Having traveled China in 1999, Erika’s bicycle trip brought back memories of Beijing, Xian, and Guilin. Although she bicycled the country 5 years before my visit, her descriptions of the nation and people seemed like a different world. I expected a lot of bicycles in Beijing, but what I mostly remember were “flocks” of sky cranes and half constructed buildings. Life gets hectic and busy with responsibilities as one grows older -- traveling in your 20’s holds a lot of magic. Traveling by bicycle would be most magical of all.
From the publisher:
Mongolia. It was Erika Warmbrunn's dream. To escape deep into parts of Asia inaccessible to tours and guidebooks, to abandon herself to the risks of the unknown. And so, with only a bicycle named Greene for a traveling companion, she set off on an eight-month, 8,000-kilometer trek that stretched across the steppes of this ancient land, on through China, and down the length of Vietnam. Freed by Greene's two wheels from the tyranny of discrete points on a map, she found that the true merit of travel was not in the simple seeing, but in flowing with the unexpected adventure or invitation, in savoring the moments in between - the daily challenges of new worlds and customs, the tiny triumphs of learning a new way of life, the daunting thrill of never knowing what the next day would bring. Wanting to ride a Mongolian horse and finding herself in the saddle for four hours, herding fifty head of cattle. Asking for a hotel in a Chinese village and being taken into a family's home to share their grandmother's bed for the night. Pedaling into the Vietnamese highlands and being stopped along the muddy road by a father asking that she join his two-year-old son's birthday party. Accepting a Mongolian village's invitation to stop pedaling and stay for a while, to live with them and teach them English. In the doing and the telling, Where the Pavement Ends is a much richer experience than any line on a map can show.
This is one courageous woman who hops on her bicycle and braves the unknown road ahead. This book makes me get on my bicycle and see my county, state, and country (never mind the world!)! It felt like she was in a rush to get back to Russia, though, and didn't spend as much time elaborating on her travels in Vietnam as she did on the time spent in Mongolia and China. But even she writes that she was tired of traveling at that point and being such a spectacle. It must have been incredibly frustrating being used to our American bubble of personal space and then be in a place where people are constantly bombarding you and gathering just to watch you eat (for EVERY public meal since it's not like she set up camp for three months in the same place.... it was more like seeing five different places or more in one week, though there were a few exceptions to that - like the month she spent teaching English in Mongolia). I think the Mongolia section was my favorite in the sense that I enjoyed reading about the community and the way of life there, their rituals of hospitality, and the children that she gets to know. This was a solid first entrance into the world of bicycling journeys and a genre I look forward to exploring!
Erika's story is engaging. It is filled with great moments - some of which make you laugh and wish you had been with her, others make you fret a bit and make you wonder why she set upon this trip. She does a nice job of including historical and cultural information about the areas she traveled without coming across as a text book. As she moves through Mongolia, China and Vietnam you do get the sense that such a bicycle trip is the way to see the heart of an area, but it is evident once she reaches Vietnam that the physical and emotional toll of the adventure has pushed her to the point of breaking. She does not shy away from reflecting upon her feelings, even when they are not pretty, which brings the story to a whole other level.
This was an amazing account of the real-life situations that Warmbrunn faced in different cultural contexts. Her frankness and her personal insights related to the various human and cultural interactions were very appreciated as I read through her adventure. One of the quotes that resonated with me was: "It is, of course, one of the great hypocrisies of the western traveler, wanting the people we visit in remote lands to remain charming, simple, exotic, and untouched by the information, possessions, and comforts that we take for granted and are unlikely to relinquish for more than the briefest of forays into more austere lands. But we had found a place that truly touched us and, fairly or not, we wished for it not to change."
I have met the Master of similes and metaphors and she is the author of this book. Besides her amazing ability to describe places and feelings, Erika is undoubtedly very strong and courageous (or stupid and very lucky). She rode her bike alone, through mountains and rivers, in blizzards and mudpits, so she could get to know the people and countries of Mongolia, China and Vietnam. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Erika's book and riding alongside her in my mind. I'm not fooled though. I would not enjoy making the trip myself. I'm glad I got to do it through this book!
A friend of mine is going into the Peace Corps in Mongolia and another friend who had recently been there recommended this as a great getting-to-know Mongolia book. I really enjoyed it! The author seems like she's someone you would want to get to know, and her book is open, well-written, and insightful. I was impressed all around by this book and it definitely made me want to go out and see the world.
I really enjoyed reading this book. Knowing this is something that I will never experience first hand, it was great to be able to live vicariously and share the author's journey. The Mongolia section was definitely my favorite, but the China and Vietnam sections were important in telling the whole story, struggles and all. I imagine Erika Warmbrunn would be a very interesting person to visit with. I liked how she was able to empathize and also how she pointed out when her empathy ran short.
I liked so much about the story. And the beginnings in Mongolia, and the adventures in Mongolia were amazing. For sure more a 4 star through Mongolia. But as the journey continued, and I am sure as the fatigue set in, the writing also fell to the fatigue and I had a hard time staying interested...still fascinating through China, but the writing lost me, and by VietNam...it was maybe a 2 star, BUT overall a 3...maybe a 3+. I would recommend it though.
As many reviewers mention, the first section on the author's ride through Mongolia is the standout. But the parts on China and Vietnam also had interesting insights into those countries at that time. She is self-critical of her limitations, for example her compulsive rushing through (in China particularly) instead of stopping to experience more of the places and people; by the end in Vietnam she was just exhausted. She's a gutsy person. I enjoyed the book. 3-1/2 stars.
I've had this book in my to-reads for five or six years. I wanted to read it then for inspiration, and here I am, my life so changed from what I had expected it to be when I added it. So I read it from here, and I am inspired. For this, I give it four stars. Maybe I am no longer traveling but I am definitely motivated to get back on my bicycle here, until I can get back out there.
This is a wonderful, wonderful book about a woman's eight month solo trip from Russia to Vietnam by bicycle. Anyone who has travelled alone (do you have to be female to identify with her?) will appreciate Erika's insights into the pleasures and challenges of solo travel. She's very, very inspiring.
Erika traveled solo by bicycle through Mongolia, China, and Vietnam. She connected with the people and cultures. Excellent descriptions, short and open ended. I enjoyed Mongolia the most, a beautiful people and country.
reminded me a lot of my time in Indonesia. I enjoyed her honesty on how tired she was of being targeted for being white in another country. Her random adventures and ability to meet people and learn quickly and learn from mistakes is refreshing. I can't wait for my next adventure!
Interesting story. Curious how critical she was of the other tourists and how she thought the locals were quaint. Makes me want to read a chronicle of an Asian person backpacking around America. Do those exist?
While the trip itself is only for the brave at heart, Erika's connections with the everyday people of these countries is heartwarming and unique. The book is well worth the read even if you never dream of pushing a bicycle thru the snow on unpaved roads.
Her descriptions of the trucks honking in the coal villages in China, the "toilets", the unabashed staring, and the sleeping arrangements are spot on! Just perfect, I thought that I was back in China. Wish I could bicycle thru China!
I thought it was an interesting book, one that I will likely reference from time to time because of her discussions on language and converstations.. I thought the interest kind of ran out of steam about 2/3 through