36 hour train from Beijing to Ulaanbaatar: Industrial China to Mongolian Countryside

A man peers into the train window to say his final goodbyes before our train departs the Beijing Station on its way to Mongolia.
The Chinese countryside was less than beautiful. There were a couple stretches of mountains and river but these were the exception, not the rule and for most of the ride we stared out the window at rural towns and industrial factories.
A shot inside the car, we enjoyed out 4-person 2nd class sleeping quarters for the long journey. The three of us were split up along the way, Peter and I bunking with a friendly French couple while Sara endured a couple know-it-all Americans and a midnight dust storm flying through their open window.
When we stopped at some unknown station along the way, we looked across the pavilion to see other people staring right back at our train.
The closer we got to Mongolia, the better the countryside looked. Though I'm not sure, I believe this was taken in Inner Mongolia, which is actually China.
Still hours before reaching the border, a storm brewed in the distance.
In the middle of the night we finally reached the Mongolian border. It took hours to go through customs and check all of the passports. The more interesting part of the border crossing is the different sizes of Chinese and Mongolian train tracks. It's difficult to tell by this picture but our train was being lifted up while these engineers switched the chassis underneath the cars.
I slept like a rock through the night with our compartment closed and shades pulled over the window. I woke when we arrived at a Mongolian station and when I walked out I was blinded by the bright Mongol sun. It took my eyes a while to adjust and catch my first glimpse of Mongolia. Here some kids rushed up to windows hoping to sell rocks they claimed were semi-precious to any person, at any price, in any currency.
The beginning of Mongolia was flat an arid. Traveling towards the Gobi desert the landscape was anything but lush. Still, it was a great contrast to China because of the deep blue skies, tufts of white clouds, and the fresh air.
A train heading back towards the border passes us along the way.
Little by little the countryside turned green. First with some short grasses then bushes, and eventually trees.
Since Sara's bunk was on the opposite end of the train we had to travel through 10 cars, including the dining car to visit her. Walking there after they had switched the cars at the border I was confused walking through the cars at first because they weren't exactly as I remembered. It wasn't until I arrived in the new, fancy dining car that I realized they had switched most of the cars and even added a couple more.
There was very little at some of the Mongolian train stops but workers still stood in attention to the passing train.
Along with changing the cars, our train was also pulled by a new engine, one that billowed out black smoke as we began to climb the foothills leading to Ulaanbaatar.
The fields and valleys we passed were so empty is was odd seeing any people or vehicles. I couldn't help but wonder what they were doing out there and how they knew they'd have enough gas to get back. We also saw herds of cows, sheep, goats, and horses with no apparent owner and without a farm anywhere in the distance.
Approaching UB we began to see trees sprouting up in the green grasses.
An shallow river cut through the countryside; a sight we wouldn't have seen hours earlier traveling through the Gobi Desert.
A final station before reaching our destination.
The outskirts of Ulaanbaatar.
The traditional home of nomadic herdsman in Mongolia, yurts are built here separated by fences.
Home to 1.3 Million people, Ulaanbaatar houses nearly half of Mongolia's 3 million people. A large percentage of Mongols spend summers in the countryside and hide during the freezing winters in the city.
Finally arriving in Ulaanbaatar, we all concluded that the train ride was that bad.
Despite our budget guest house, they picked us up at the train station and even had my name on a card.