Yining, Beijing: what does climate change mean to you?

Yinning - Beijing, China

Yining, 22, is a post-graduate student at the Beijing's international university, studying to teach Mandarin to foreigners. She is a Beijinger born and bred but lived in Denmark as an exchange student for a while. She thinks that Europeans generally care more about issues affecting the wider human race and tells me Chinese people only care about money, damaging our environment in the process. It's not all bad though. She's encouraged by recent signs that people in China are starting to buy more environmentally friendly products.

Yinning & Emma

Yinning says people here don't talk about climate change that much but that it has been influencing people though, especially recently. The weather has got really weird and it gets warm and cold at strange times. Beijing also now suffers from sandstorms coming in from the Gobi desert. She thinks this is partly because there aren't enough trees in the countryside any more.

The Great Wall at Simitar, near Beijing

In Yining's eyes, it's everyone's job to fix climate change but people in the city don't see its already devastating effects so people in the countryside are more aware of the issue. In the South of China you can see people suffering from the lack of rain but in the city everyone always has enough food. She has heard that the powers that be have taken food from rural areas by force in order to feed people in Beijing.

Mornings in the parks in Beijing are filled with wondrous things

Yining thinks the Chinese government should do more to regulate for the environment. She has seen adverts about saving water and energy but the country's leaders are mostly too concerned about GDP. They are talking about sustainable development but haven't yet implemented many policies and those that have been are not enforced.

Hutongs are too small for cars but perfect for vertical vegetable growing

According to Yinning the big city governments care more about the environment. In Beijing there are restrictions on what sort of fuel you can use but not in the countryside. She then goes on to make the very valid point that no matter how efficient the cars are, the overall number of them is ultimately more significant. She wishes the restrictions were placed on the numbers of cars instead.

A young Chinese family at one of the Beijing 350 events

Yinning's heard about the imminent world summit on climate change Copenhagen but can't relate it to her daily life. That's the business of the government, not ordinary people. She agrees that Chinese government have more power here so things can change quicker but it's difficult for people lke her to influence them. They don't listen to their people.

Eric, Beijing - what does climate change mean to you?

Eric - Beijing, China

As we step off the train from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia we're immediately dazzled by the realisation that the city in front of us is not the Beijing that lives in our heads. China's capital has almost completed its transformation from a sprawling city of traditional ricketty wooden buildings in labarynthine 'hutong' alleyways to concrete and steel mega-city of epic proportions that makes London and New York look like toy towns.

Beijing old and new

My first interviewee in China is Eric, a 20 year computer science student in Beijing. He's originally from a village outside Qingdao, the city famous for producing TsingTao beer, but has been in the big city for three years now. He's anticipating that China will be warmer, which won't be a good thing for his country and especially not for his adopted city; Beijing in the summer is mind-meltingly hot. Eric believes that air and water pollution are more of an issue here than climate change though and I can see why. Though we are visiting at supposedly the time of year when Beijing air is the clearest, the ever-present thick haze tricks me into thinking my glasses always need cleaning.

Eric & Emma

Eric drops the unsurprising but nonetheless depressing news that Chinese people are not worried about climate change. He maintains that China's priority is the economy. His friends are too busy with studying to worry too much about climate change. A poor student from the countryside must study from 5am until 8pm in order to get into a university.

A guard at the Forbidden Palace

The government should be responsible for addressing climate change, according to Eric. They should control the number of cars and encourage people to use public transport and bicycles. When asked about renewables he says solar might be good but he is concerned that China has built too many hydro-electric dams, which are now causing ecological damage.

Beijing's smog can at least make for a lovely picture

The interview ends on a much more positive note than it begins though. Eric tells me most emphatically that he thinks we must change our ways for the future. That we need to reduce pollution and make things cleaner. He uses public transport although he admits he's too poor to have a choice about this and the lights in his dormitory and in his family home are low energy too.

It might also be that Eric is unnecessarily pessimistic about his fellow citizens. Bearing in mind that a recent study showed that 62% of Chinese people wanted their government to take more action on climate change. Whether their government will heed their request is another matter but the will, it appears, is there.

A Mongolian Climate Story

Mongolia is facing a bleak future. Already an arid land struggling to support a population that remains largely subsistence, climate change threatens to further dessicate it, wringing out the last precious drops of life-giving moisture. Everyone here describes the same story of less rain year on year, rivers and lakes drying up and their fears about the continuing viability of their traditional nomadic lifestyle. They may live simple lives but Mongolians are far from ignorant about the origins of their plight. Their radios and satellite televisions, powered by solar panels, have given them science's explanation for what ails them.

A once huge lake in central Mongolia reduced to a puddle

Mongolians, in common with most people it seems, like to say their government is not doing enough about climate change. They plant a few trees here and there but there's more talk than action. The reality is, as far as mitigation is concerned, there's little Mongolia is able to implement, especially in rural areas where lifestyles could barely be more low carbon. As is the case for the majority of the world, the extent of the powers the country possesses to deal with climate change are generally restricted to adaptation, in other words mopping up someone elses mess.

Climate change is drying up this Mongolian waterfall

The litter that is clearly a problem here does not betray a lack of respect for the environment, as you might assume. Mongolians, like all traditional societies, are not yet used to disposing of anything that doesn't become food for something else. On the contrary, looking after their environment is heavily embedded in Mongolian culture. Shamanic folklore terrifies Mongolian children with tales of the perils of disrespecting the natural world.

The solar panel is a common sight in Mongolia

Mongolia cannot afford the luxury of climate change denial because the evidence of climate change is plain for all to see here and now. Despite that Mongolians have not caused the problems that now threaten their ancient way of life, they don't seem angry or bitter, despite a little baiting. Mongolians seem to point blank refuse to badmouth other countries, aside from Chinese, for whom they bear a vitriolic historical grudge. It's both humbling and heartwarming to have discovered that the consensus emerging from this vulnerable country is that it's everyone's responsibility to tackle the problem of climate change.

Bor – Elsen Tasarkhai, Mongolia

Bor is in his late seventies, smokes a long pipe and keeps camels, horses, sheep and goats. Him and his hardworking wife, who tops up the stove in our gerr all night long with dried dung, live between a lake and a sand dune, which looks incredible to our Western eyes.

Bor at work

We wake up on the morning of the interview to an even stranger sight. There has been a snowstorm in the night and everything is covered in a thick blanket of snow. I'm told this is very unusual for this time of year. You might expect my Mongolian hosts to be pleased for the unseasonable gift of water but disgruntled mutterings tell me this is yet another unwelcome sign of instability in their previously more predictable ecosystem.

Bor in his ger

You see it's been getting drier in the last few years and now there's barely any rain. There used to be many trees around the sand dunes but there are hardly any left now. The sand encroaches ever further on the useful land and there are now more sand storms than ever. This is, of course, a problem because it makes the job of raising animals increasingly difficult.

Dusk before the snow

There's a lot of information about climate change on the news and Bor's well aware that it's linked to the problems he's just told me about. Climate change is a big problem for Mongolia because it is an agricultural country. These changes are bad for animals and plants alike.

The scene we woke up to

Bor thinks scientists need to work out what to do about the problem. He doesn't know who else can fix the problem but he says he's too old and laughs. Like the other Mongolians I've spoken to he thinks the Mongolian government talk about the problem but do nothing. He says some Korean's came here and planted some trees though.

Snowy camels

With a knowing smile, Bor tells me that of course he can imagine a life without fossil fuels because he still lives that life. He doesn't have a car. He's been riding horses for seventy years. He tells me he is trying to be optimistic for himself and future generations but that the time when he will go to sleep forever is very soon now.

Dorjsuren, Orkhon, Mongolia

Dorjsuren, more commonly known as Ben (which means boy in Mongolian), is our guide for our three days of horse trekking around the magnificent eight lakes area. I wasn't planning on interviewing him but after watching my interview with Myagaa he so enthusiastically voluteered himself that I could hardly refuse.

Dorjsuren

As with all my previous Mongolian interviewees, the first thing Dorjsuren ,mentions is the lack of rain in recent years, especially the last five. What rain there is tends to fall in flash floods, which doesn't soak into the soil properly and therefore fails to nourish the plants that their animals feed on. Particularly dear to Dojsuren is the local waterfall that he grew up next to. It's a big attraction for tourists but these days it's dry all by two months of the year. We're extremely fortunate to be there while the waterfall is falling, albeit as a pale shadow of its former glory.

Dorjsuren with our pack horse

Climate change is a big problem throughout the country. This region is suffering from one of the many knock-on effects of global warming, increased pests. The trees, which protect the area from desertification, are being attacked by a two types of moth. They are thriving under the new warmer and drier conditions that climate change has brought.

Our trusty steeds

Like Myagaa, Dorjsuren thinks the government is all mouth and no trousers, talking plenty but doing little. He would like them to at least start with small problems, like helping his community fight the moths that attack their life-preserving trees.

Waterfall under threat from climate change

The future for Dorjsuren is unclear, although he can easily imagine a Mongolia without fossil fuels. He thinks his son will be ok but expects his grandson might have a very hard life because there will be so little water left when his time comes.

Myagaa, Eight Lakes: what does climate change mean to you?

Myagaa - Eight Lakes, Mongolia

Young mother Myagaa lives with her husband and children in a ger that currently overlooks a landscape so breathtakingly beautiful it seems almost surreal. Unable to reach the area by vehicle, we have trekked on horseback for a day to reach her.

Emma looking out over the Eight Lakes valley

She has seen many changes that she associates with global warming. There used to be eight great lakes but some are now tiny and others have even dried up completely. There also used to be many more streams and rivers. Recently she's seen dust rolls here too, which is a worrying new sign of a changing climate.

One of the Eight Lakes reduced to a puddle

This all makes the nomadic herding life more difficult. The animals do not get fat as they should and give less milk. Myagaa worries that her nomadic lifestyle will not be possible in the future. It's a big problem everywhere and most people she knows are worrying about it.

Morning at the lakes

Myagaa believes it's everyone's job to fix climate change but she's not convinced it's possible. She says she can't do much and it's not difficult to see why: this way of life could hardly be lower impact. The family do not have a car, which would be useless in this terrain. Heating is provided from the ubiquitous wood and dung burning stove that resides in the centre of each round ger tent. However, Myagaa tries not to litter and uses yak dung for the stove as much as possible, to avoid cutting down trees. The government here talk a lot about taking action on climate change but Myagaa can't see them doing much yet. Sound familiar?

Myagaa & her husband in front of their ger

Myagaa knows it's possible to live without fossil fuels because this is the ancient way of life Mongolians have been living "since the times of Chinggis Khaan" and beyond. She is optimistic for the future but worries for her children. She is particularly worried that a lack of rain from climate change will force them to leave behind forever the nomadic way of life that she loves.

Vaanchig, Southern Gobi: what does climate change mean to you?

Vaanchig - Southern Gobi

For three seasons of the year Vaanchig lives next to some of the most impressive sand dunes in Mongolia. In fact, he recognises his neighbour's horse on the cover of our guide book. Most of his eight grown up children have now moved away but one son still lives at home. When we arrive, a week before the family are to move to their winter residence, he is extremely welcoming. He asks each of our group how are animals are doing and offers perfumed nasal explosive, also known as snuff, both with a cheeky knowing smile.

Vaanchig & his snuff bottle

Our smiling, mischievous host has worries though and once the interview begins I see a more serious side to Vaanchig. He thinks climate change will be a big problem for Mongolia.

Especially in the last few years, he has seen big changes in nature. He tells me that in Mongolia the biggest problem is a lack of rain. This year there was almost no rain, or snow in the winter. Even the water under ground, where the roots of plants could grow down to reach is now failing.

The incredible landscape in which Vaanchig lives

Compared to other parts of Mongolia the grass grows more sparsely here and creeping desertification is a constant threat. In the South Gobi there are now many more people and cars. The cars turn useful grassland to sand.

Vaanchig hears people talking about globalisation. He belives that as we live on one earth, everyone needs to try to solve the problem of climate change. It's not enough to work in isolation, all our efforts need to be connected.

Emma, Vaanchig & guide Khuu

"We need to reduce the pollution from industry and cars" says Vaanchig. "We must reduce the pollution everywhere!" He thinks the Mongolian government need to do something because they're doing nothing at the moment. They're just fighting about unimportant things. He can imagine a life without fossil fuels but at the moment everyone is so dependent.

Sunset at the top of the 200m sand dune overlooking Vaanchig's ger

I thank Vaanchig for his time and his thoughtful opinions and get up to leave but he stops me, saying he has a question for me. He asks me if I know whether other countries have been stealing Mongolia's rain by "shooting the clouds". At first I rather conceitedly think he's referring to a superstition or that he's misunderstood something he heard on the radio. I'm humbled when Jeff, an American who we have been travelling with, realises he's talking about cloud seeding. He informs us both that China does use cloud seeding for special occasions but that they wouldn't do it regularly because it interferes with rain cycles.

Boli, Gurvan Saikhan National Park: what does climate change mean to you?

Boli - Gurvan Saikhan National Park, Mongolia

Boli and his wife and children live the traditional nomadic life in the beautiful Gurvan Saikhan National Park, which lies in the Southern, Gobi region of Mongolia. He is worried about climate change and has been well informed about it by his radio.

Emma, Boli and guide/translator Khuu

The last few years have been very dry with not nearly enough rain. No rain equals no grass, so Boli's animals don't have enough to eat. If they don't get fat enough over the summer, they will die in the winter. The situation is not disastrous now, particularly as the tourist trade supplements the diminishing support from his livestock, but he's concerned about how things will be in 30-40 years time if things carry on as they are. He has a longer time frame than most people I know.

Nomadic life in the Gobi

Boli thinks that everyone should try to fix climate change and has low energy lighting, which is powered by a solar photovoltaic panel, a fixture of most gers. He is also concerned about litter, which is heartbreakingly ubiquitous here, and tries not to contribute to the problem himself.

Curiously, for someone who remembers when animals not oil were the primary power source, as recently as the 1970s, he can't imagine a life without fossil fuels. He knows this sort of life is possible but cannot see how things can go back to how they were.

The view from a gerr

Later that day, after we leave Boli, we visit the 'ice gorge', which until recently boasted a year round ice packed crevice. Even our 2008 guidebook doesn't tell how the summer heat now steals away this impressive attraction and disappoints the many who visit in the height of the tourist season. That said, this is not all that surprising from the 'book of lies'.

Like the ice gorge, Boli's traditional nomadic family life is an attraction for tourists that is under threat from climate change. His dwindling income from the degraded environment is now supplemented by the very people who are destroying it by flying into the country in droves to gawp at a life, which demonstrates a stark contrast to their own cash-rich, wellbeing-poor existence at home.

The question that I cannot escape at the moment is whether this destruction is merely absent-minded or knowingly selfish? With knowledge of the great damage we're doing ourselves becoming clearer every day, I fear we can no longer excuse it as the former.