Innovation Imitation

Day 9

After a wonderfully warm and comfortable night in the ger, the morning brought with it a delicious breakfast of pancakes and tea. While others were packing, me and Oxanna went to say goodbye to the family. A Mongolian custom suggests that guests bring presents to their hosts, and so a small package of tea I brought from home served as our parting gift.

Between me and Oxanna stands our hard-working hostess. A dog is part of any Mongolian family photo.

Loading a truck with our gear, and saddling our horses, we started our slow retreat from the Tsagaan Nuur reserve and towards our next hosting family. After a two-hour ride, we approached a bridge. Unloading our gear, we were told to wait on the other side.

This shaky bridge marks the end of Tsagaan Nuur reserve. Beyond it lies the small village of Tariat

Soon, a rugged, middle-aged man in a traditional Mongolian dress (called “del”) approached us and signaled to follow him. With our heavy bags on our backs we were escorted to a small house in the nearby village. A table laid with our lunch was already waiting for us.

The ubiquitous noodles with meat, while plain, were more than enough to satisfy our hunger

As we later learned, this house was family’s winter place. Being half-nomads, they moved for the summer to the grasslands to graze their cattle and came back to their village for the winter. Finishing off the meal with the obligatory salted milk-tea, we were ready to move to the family’s summer place.

The living room of our Mongolian family's winter place in Tariat village

Loading our gear on one wooden cart, and sitting on another, we were taken by a pair of ominous-looking oxes out of the village, on our way to family’s ger. One of the oxes had an awful mad look, which possibly explained why his horns were broken.

With a young boy on a horse and our rugged-faced host on foot taking turns in leading the first ox, it was fascinating to see how these large beasts were effortlessly controlled. Pulling a leash connected to a nose ring (that pierces the soft part of the nose) was enough to encourage the bull to go where the handler was leading it. When the boy on the horse was leading the bulls, our host was sitting on the first cart and rhythmically beating the leading ox into cooperation.

While not the fastest way of traveling, ox cart is a very reliable mode of transportation

Me and Oxanna tucked in an ox cart, amidst the Mongolian grasslands - that must be worth a picture

Leaving the village behind, we were embraced by the great vastness of the surrounding grasslands. Lonely gers, small hordes of cattle and a myriad of low hills and valleys – this was our first taste of the Mongolian nomadic landscape. I loved it.

If not for the white caps of the gers, this could be mistaken for Switzerland

In Mongolia there is no concept of land-ownership outside of cities, so every family is free to roam the steppes and move freely from one place to another, in search of better grazing spots.

The modern nomad

After a long ride we arrived at the family’s house an were immediately invited inside. The woman of the house served us milk tea and tsagaan idee – dairy products (literally “white food”). This included aaruul (white cheese curds) and a yellow substance, somewhere between sour cream and butter, served with bread.

Aaruul curds dry up during the summer to be served as snacks throught the year

After putting up our tents and begging our hosts for hujur (blankets) to put underneath the sleeping bags in our tents, we went to freshen up in the nearby river before the dinner.

To be a real nomad, you have to get used to bathing in the chilling waters of the nearby rivers

The gathering clouds didn’t caught us unprepared this time. Out of the river and in our jackets, hats and raincoats, we were back at our camp, with enough time to make some photos of this incredible place.

Nowhere before have I felt so gloriously detached from the outside world like here

Scarce rays of light make their way through the bulky clouds, to lit up the steppes

The dinner was served in the family ger. We were getting used to large servings of noodles with meet. Trying to strike up a conversation with the family turned out to be a challenge – they didn’t know a word of either English or Russian, and our Mongolian was just enough to say hello and goodbye. What saved the evening was our hosts’ idea to let us churn cow milk in a large container.

There is nothing better to break up cultural barriers than to let enthusiastic but clumsy foreigners sweat, stirring up a cistern of milk

During this process fat that is contained in milk accumulates on the top, is then collected, and turned into a buttery mass. The milky water is left to ferment, and when it’s ready, is distilled and turned into arkhi - light (15%) vodka (or rather wine) with a distinctive milk taste. Churning up the milk, we not only earned some good laughs but also were rewarded by glasses of arkhi. It turned to be quite tasty, with it’s milky flavor offsetting greatly its alcoholic body.

With a thermos of hot water back in my tent, this memorable day was coming to an end. Going over the day’s event’s, I have remembered our hosts’ rugged faces. With their oldest son being 18, the parents must have been in their forties (Mongolians merry in yearly twenties). But our host and his wife looked well over 60.

Our gracious, humble hosts

Apparently this hard climate of freezing winters and sun-burned summers leaves its mark on people’s faces.

Next:

Last Day in Paradise

Day 8
The night in the tent was long and cold. Without a mat to put under the sleeping bag (I intended to rent one at the hostel in Tsetserleg, but they ran out of mates), lying on the cold ground, with rain streams making their way through tent’s zipper cracks, I couldn’t fall asleep, waiting for the sunrise to come and rescue me.
At six o’clock the sun was up, but the air was still cold. Tired of turning round, listening to BBC podcast on my player, I went out to soak morning’s atmosphere. An old football lying near my tent was a great morning partner, but clubs of smoke coming from the kitchen promised a better way to warm up.

This cow (with a doze of yak genes) was an early riser, just like me

Inside, our hostess was already hard at work – bringing over an armful of logs, boiling water in large bowls and frying pancakes for the breakfast. Even though we were in a tourist camp, the hard work, the long hours and the simplicity of the tools used were very typical of the Mongolian women, managing a household. Seeing this woman working all day, seemingly without rest, but also without effort, my yesterday’s cynicism was gone.

Oven - the throbbing heart of every kitchen

After breakfast we went for a horse ride along the lake shore, on a route to Khorgo volcano. Mongolian horses are relatively small, and ours were timid, only refusing to go steeply downhill . After two hours of horse ride, we arrived at the base of the Khorgo volcano. Climbing by foot uphill, revealed a large crater on the top of the volcano. It’s eruption, a long time ago, covered a large area around it with stones and solidified lava, giving it a hostile, morbid look.

Khorgo volcano crater

Menacing-looking area surrounding Khorgo volcano

On our way back the weather got nasty – strong wind transformed the light rain into freezing, micro-particles shower. Mongolian summer weather could be deceitful – a sunny morning could quickly become a chilling day. Over the next days, we learned to take with us rain-coats and warm hats, but also sunglasses and sun cream, whenever going out.

My tuck posture tells the story of that after-noon

After a sleepless night, I wasn’t going to pass another night in my tent. Oxanna, that also froze during the night, shared my resolve to sleep this night in a ger. $5 for a night was a small price to pay to have the warmth of walls layered with thick wool, and comfort of real beds and blankets. We had to wake up for dinner, and when we were back, we decided to fire up the stove. It turned out to be a non-trivial task, since the humid planks refused to burn. Leaving them to dry-up, we passed the time talking about movies, books and what-not.

Oxanna tries her luck at firing up the stove

Taking enjoyment in feeling safe and protected from the weather outside, we wanted the evening to go on.

Next:

Into the Uncharted Steppes

Day 7
At 09:00 we were picked up by our driver, and headed north-east to the White Lake. A 185km drive turned out to be a seven hours affair. Our Russian minivan broke up twice, which didn’t upset the driver – stopping for half an hour in every passing village for a quick fix seemed to be a part of the routine.

A typical Mongolian village, on the road to the White Lake

Every Mongolian driver is also a mechanic

Driving through central Mongolia in an old Russian minivan is an unforgettable experience. These cars are built for durability and ease of maintenance, but certainly not for comfort – every bump on the road (and there are more bumps than roads) shatters the vehicle and throws the passengers out of the seats.

Eventually we arrived at a ger camp, on the shore of the White Lake. After setting up our tents, our hosting Mongolian family served us a lunch in the kitchen cabin – noodles with meat. My Buryat friends had to explain (not for the first time) that despite their looks, they are not Mongolian and don’t speak the language, and actually come from republic of Buryatia in Russia. While Buryat people are ethnically close to Mongolians, and Buryat language is a close relative of Mongolian, most Buryats speak Russian as their first language. 350 years of Russian influence have their consequences.

There is no shortage of camping sites on the shores of the White Lake. Just pick a place where you wish to freeze at night.

The hospitality of our hosts couldn’t hide the fact that our ger camp was more of a tourist base than a traditional Mongolian living space. Looking forward to experience the nomadic way of life, I was disappointed to find out that we were served meals together with other tourists in the camp, and that there is a convenient grocery shop nearby.

Our kitchen cabin

I was happy to find out that at least the toilet is authentic

After lunch we went for a swim in the lake. Terkhiin Tsagaan Nuur is a 16km in length fresh-water lake, situated at an altitude of 2,060 meters in the Khangai Mountains. After a failed attempt to enjoy swimming, we climbed a nearby rock to warm up and get a better view of the lake.

Tsagaan Nuur - "Great White Lake" is called so for the color of the ice, covering it in the winter

The freezing water quickly chased us back to the shore, but the locals, causally swimming and catching fish, apparently didn't mind.

Back on the beach, we were invited by a group of young, partying Mongolians to join them for a glass of Genghis Khan vodka. As the sun was setting down, the air became chiller, and we headed back to our camp, in time for dinner. The three of us squeezed in my tent, we signed off the evening with tea and laughs.

Next:

Mongolian summer is a harsh mistress

Day 6
Catching an early bus from Ulaanbaator, I was glad to leave the city behind. Starting a week-long tour to central Mongolia, I was anxious to get out from the noisy and crowded capital and get a taste of the great Mongolian emptiness. After a few hours of driving, the asphalt road turned to a grassland trope, and so it took us 9 hours to reach  Tsetserleg, just 240km away from Ulaanbaator. But sleeping most of the time, that didn’t seem long.

The first taste (smell?) of the country-side was this toilet shack

Main road from Ulaanbaator to Tsetserleg

Mongolian kids are natural and confident. They will take your sweets without giving you a second look

Tsetserleg, the regional capital of Arkhangai province, is located southwest to the White Lake, and it’s a perfect place to break up the trip. Once we arrived, a local guide met us and escorted to our guesthouse. Fairfield cafe & guesthouse is mentioned as “an attraction in its own right” by Lonely Planet, and rightfully so. In the unsophisticated atmosphere of  a rural town , it offers comfort rooms with rags on the floors, four shower cabins (a luxury!), traditional English breakfast and an English-speaking stuff. From a booklet I learned that it is run by a socially-conscious British couple, whose purpose is to provide employment opportunities to local youth, training and teaching them how to run a business.

Fairfield guesthouse, a little corner of civilization in rural Mongolia

After settling in our spacious room and getting a delicious dinner in the cafe, we went out to explore the town.

The steps up the hill lead to the Galdan Zuu buddhist temple

An impressive 7m statue of Buddha is overlooking the town

The local video-games club is unpretentious

The statue commemorates a local wrestler, famous throught the country. The tradiotional "eagle dance" starts off the Mongolian wrestling match.

Back to our hostel, we enjoyed our last night in civilization.

Map:
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Next:

So you thought you might like to go to a lake

After the night’s rain, UB’s streets became a mess. No wonders Mongolians with means buy SUV’s, the most popular being Toyota’s Land Cruiser.

Heavy summer rain leaves only small islands of land for the pedestrians on UB streets

Small cars have as much trouble as pedestrians

A lone policeman looks stranded and somewhat toylike

This store owner found a low-tec method to empty his store entrance from rain water

The Internet café was suffocating, but at least they charged only 700 Tugrigs (~ 50 cents). After lunch we went for an orientation session in Ger-to-Ger travel company. They started as a social project to help the nomadic families profit from a sustainable tourism, and developed into a leading travel outfit. Instead of charging for a driver, a guide, and a gasoline, they offer tourists a chance to stay with the nomadic families, who cook and transport the tourists, and enjoy an additional source of income, without significantly altering their nomadic lifestyle.

Learning to play the Morin Khur on the orientation session

On the orientation session, they not only provided us with all the needed information, but also tipped us on how to greet the families (“Mal sureg targan tavtai u” – “Are your sheep fattening up nicely?”), gave us a short lesson on the Mongolian language and showed us how to play the children’s game of ankle bones.

At evening the heavy rain continued, but despite our best judgement, we went out to meet Oxanna’s Mongolian friend, who never showed up.

Dressed up for a nice evening out

Navigating through the rivers of water on the streets, I had the nerve to say that we actually have a chance of coming home dry, despite all. As I said that, a car passing near by showered me from head to toe, teaching a valuable lesson in humility. We ended up in a nice pub called Texas, where we drank Mongolian beer, and Oxanna dried her feet.

Next:

Last stop before civilization ends

Day 2
We started the day by visiting the Gandan Khiid – the largest Buddhist monastery in Mongolia, and the first one I ever visited. The monks were friendly, when not praying or talking on a mobile phone, they were gladly giving directions or posing for a photo. In one of the temples, while the older monks were praying, a couple of young boys were cleaning the floors. They did this with such mindfulness and concentration, that it looked as a part of a religious ritual.

Turning the Buddhist praying wheel is somewhat similar to kissing a Mezuzah - a mechanical action that is aimed to connect you to a spiritual dimension

Packs of doves inhabit the temple square. Buddhists say that you can meet your past and future relatives here

A huge golden Buddha stands inside the largest temple. Taking a picture costs $5. Eternal serenity is priceless.

Coming back to the city center, feeling serene and peaceful, we were confronted by an angry drunkard, which we had to flee to a department store. A serving of Buuz got us back in a good mood, and we went on the lookout for a local sim-card.

Buuz are dumplings filled with meat, similar to Russian pelmeni. They are the most popular fast-food in Mongolia.

Even though almost everything in Ulaanbaator is no further than 1 km away from the city center, finding anything is never easy. Frequent changes in local business landscape makes some Lonely Planet recommendations useless, working hours are inconsistent, asking for directions is risky – English or Russian-speaking Mongolians are rare, as those that would admit they don’t know the location, directing you instead quite randomly. After some lengthy feet-work, we purchased a sim-card, some groceries and returned to our hostel to rest.

The evening turned to be a redeeming experience. First we attended the local theater, which featured traditional Mongolian music and dance.

Tumen Ekh ensemble's performance avoided kitsch, and even though it was targeted at tourists, its was genuinely touching

Morin Khur (literally "horse instrument") - national Mongolian instrument, whose strings were traditionally made from horse tail, is usually much smaller

Waiting for the rain to stop, after the performance, we made our way to the city stadium, where Naadam festival closing ceremony was to be held. The rain has cleaned the air and scattered the crowds, and suddenly the city seemed charming for the first time.

Rain coat is a must-have clothing accessory during the Mongolian summer

Genghis Khan's silhouette overlooks the city

Stadium show featured local bands performing Mongolian rock. With our faces stamped with the Mongolian flags, we smiled, looking at the Mongolian youth doing the same thing teenagers all over the world do – look for identity, and express the need for belonging.

Singing along with "What's Up" cover, I had a strangely uplifting feeling

Back at the hostel after another unsuccessful attempt to find an open pub after midnight, we had a modest dinner. Mixing traditional with modern, the city has definitely had some surprises up it’s sleeves.

Next:

Swimming through Ulaanbaator streets

Day 1

Most airports would look unimpressive after Seoul’s Incheon airport, and the small and minimalistic in comfort Genghis Khan airport is not an exception. In taxi on my way to the city I had an euphoric feeling that I gonna love this country. Even though the road from the airport to the city was appallingly bad and the driver reckless, the sunrise revealed shaky, lonely buildings on one side of the road, and wild, green hillside stretching to the horizon on the other. This place was uniquely different.

The road from the airport gives the first taste of Mongolia's typical bad roads and green steppes

The Euphoria ended quickly when we finally arrived at the guest house. First, the driver demanded to pay more than what we agreed upon. Than there was the guest house. The hostess Enkhi met outside and guided to the grim Soviet-era building. The guest house turned to be a shabby little apartment with 2 rooms, each equipped with dozen of beds. Taking off my shoes, I was met with annoying requests: I wasn’t to take a shower (it’s forbidden to use till 11:00) and I wasn’t to unpack my things (it will make noise and awake my neighbors). Tired, sweaty but not sleepy at all, I unenthusiastically climbed the bed .

My friends came to meet me at the guest-house at noon. We had a lunch in Casablanca restaurant, visited the National Museum of History and went to mix with the locals in the Naadam festival.

Oxanna and Jenya in Casablanca restaurant that features Humphrey Bogart photos on walls, waiters that don't speak English and touristy prices

National Museum of Mongolia is suffocating, but features all of the Mongolian history, since the Stone age till the democratic revolution of 1990

The communist-era Mongolian emblem features prominently 4 types of cattle

Soviet-era labor heroes nowadays look comical

Ulaanbaator's main streets are noisy and crowded during the Naadam festival

Colorful and haphazard bazaar reminds pictures of India

The uniform of the local police looks strangely familiar

Local version of Disneyland leaves much to wish for

Mongolians love football, caught up with the rest of the planet in World Cup hype

The evening was disappointing – the pub recommended by Lonely Planet was closed, all other places didn’t let people in, due to some new regulation about serving alcohol after midnight. After a lengthy walk around UB’s center, we finally found a place that was “open”. After sitting at a table, the waitress asked us to move to another one (“the map there is cleaner”).

Sitting at a table with a clean map

A friendly conversation and a cup of uninspiring ice cream were enough to relax after a long day. Overall, the first impression of Ulaanbaator was of a noisy, dirty and generally unpleasant town.

Next:

Ulaanbaator Immersion

Day 0

After a 10-hour flight from Tel-Aviv to Seoul, I arrived at the Incheon airport at 17:00 local time. Korean airlines were pleasant  -  they had cushions and blankets in the economy class, good meals and a perception of fast service – they brought meals in many quick rounds, every time bringing a little dish, instead of moving slowly through the rows with a huge cart. The flight to Ulaanbaator was delayed due to bad weather, so I had more than enough time to explore the airport, which turned to be an attraction in it’s own right.

Recreation of royal family procession attracted many tourist eyes

The Cultural Experience zone offers tourists a chance to practice Korean calligraphy. For some reason, it's free only for foreigners.

This Korean TV channel broadcasts StarCraft professional league games. With enthusiastic commentary in the background.

These nice looking seats turned to be much less comfortable for sleep then what their look suggests

Map of the airport gates reveals that gates 13, 25, 29 are missing.

Flight delay meant that I was about to miss the World Cup final. While half the world was to watch world’s number 1 sport event, I was to watch air safety tips on board of the plane. Cursing my bad luck, I passed the time stumbling through the airport, talking to a Russian pianist returning to Vladivostok after a long stay in Japan and reading “Hearing Birds Fly” – Englishwoman’s account of her stay in a lost Mongolian village. Finally, at 02:00 at night I boarded the plan to Ulaanbaator, and 3 hours later I made my way through the Genghis Khan airport.

Next:

Arriving in Ulaanbaator
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