I Must Have Got It Wrong

I think it was all my fault. I understood that we were going into the mountains to get a good view of the city of Ulaan Baatar. But I got it wrong. The day before, I discovered we were going to the countryside to have lunch with a nomad family. Munkhtuul, our new Mongolian friend, pointed out there were no toilets, “Is that OK”. Sure, why not. But then I thought “Well, what do the nomad family use?”

We had to meet at Mukhtulul’s office. On the walk there I had realised I had forgotten the box of chocolates purposely acquired as a thank you gift for the host, as is tradition. The newer the friend, the bigger the gift. I did wonder if it had been deliberate that I had left this huge box of chocolate in our fridge. Not to worry, got another (the original is still in the fridge unopened). We all piled into a car, 4 adults, 2 kids and the driver, and took off to the countryside.

As we drove out of the city we went through what is known as the Ger District. Here, those poorer families live in traditional gers, cars parked outside, the only sign of any significant possession. This area seemed dusty, smoky, cluttered and oppressed. Occasionally I saw a small herd of sheep or goats, penned against a paled fence. But the grubby kids played together, chasing each other and looking happy.

As we made our way out of this area and getting closer to rolling hills, we stopped to buy a bag of roasted pine nuts from a young girl, for a fraction of the cost we would pay in Australia. The catch was we had to shell them before eating them. They are so tiny and lots of work for little reward. But at least I can say we did it.

Next stop was an obvious tourist attraction with a tour coach stopped before us.  We all bundled out and I looked at James saying, “Can I have the camera?” “I thought you had it”,  “I thought you had it” I got it wrong.  Never mind, we had the little pocket job, which would do. I managed to get some shots of the camels that didn’t look at all fussed that we were excited.  The kids climbed on and screamed as the camel stood, then screamed again as it sat back down. Photos were paid for. There were eagles there with incredible wingspans and talons to match. James had one sit on his arm, then his shoulder, then his head, I took photos, which were paid for. But great experience and at least we can say we’ve done it.

On we went and the grass covered steppes looked cool. We followed a really bumpy road and at times left the road and travelled on the verge, a smoother but dustier option to the road. We, well at least the ladies with us, broke into song and it sort of had the excitement of a school excursion. Especially when they said the museum was ahead. I sort of thought they must have the wrong English words, but sure enough, in the middle of nowhere, was this gigantic stainless steel statue of Chinggis Khan, astride a horse, mounted on top of a building housing a museum of bronze age Mongolian artefacts.

 

As if the museum wasn’t impressive enough, a private collection that has been donated to the country, we got in a lift and went up the 131 meters to the top of 250 tons of stainless steel and looked up Chinggis Khans nostrils. That was if we looked in one direction. Looking the other way was a magnificent view over the Mongolian Steppes. Amazing! Mongolians love old Chinggis, he was ignored a bit during Russian rule, but the locals are now allowed to boast his strengths. They have even names a vodka after him. (Yes correct spelling for Chinggis, James checked on the vodka bottle)

All piled back in the car we seemed to be heading back in the direction we had come from. We slowed slightly then took a hard left onto a dirt track that was etched through the short grass. Up and over a gentle hill, before us was a ger with smoke coming from the central chimney. We had arrived a the mobile home of the nomadic family with whom we were having lunch. The ladies we were with were obviously good friends because hugs were exchanged, this was the first time I have seen such familiarity between Mongol people.

The door was held open and we stepped over the threshold into the darken tent. We were instructed to move to the left of the doorway as we made our way in, this being polite tradition. Also in keeping with tradition, I presented the lady of the house with the big box of chocolates, her reply translated as “they are my favourite”. I wondered if this was polite tradition too. 

This was a new location for the family, they had moved here only a week prior but they looked pretty organised. But then, if you move four times in summer, you would have a good routine. The moves are determined by the amount and quality of feed available for the livestock. They never overgraze an area, but move on to greener pastures. The inside of the ger had the basics. From the left of the door and against the wall were a few large barrels holding fresh water (which is carried from a nearby well) and milk taken from the goats, a single bed, then a table with a satellite  phone, a solar converter connected to TV and DVD,  the TV on soccer, another two single beds and a cupboard, a few buckets with milk and yogurt sat on the floor. In the centre of the room was a low stove with a flue going through the roof and a lid that lifted to expose the fire.  There was also a folding table and about three chairs and a few stools. The floor was dirt but we were told in winter there is a wooden platform for comfort.

A ger is made of felt, laid over a wooden frame. When erecting the home the roofs central structure resembles the hub of a wagon wheel, with about 100 spokes coming out and anchoring to the side wall. This wall is like an expandable lattice that stretches to form a circle. This structure is all tied together with ropes, then overlaid with thick sheets of felt. This is then covered with canvas and again tied down with rope. The portal for the door is painted and the door itself has a beautiful design of bright colours. This ger, being a summer ger, had the ability to raise the edge of the tent, so as to let air circulate into the home. Most of the time the door is left open to provide light. (Except when I wanted it shut so I could take a photo and they were in there in the dark) The inside of the wagon wheel which forms the ceiling, is a great place to tuck extra bits and pieces like toothbrush, sunglasses, cooking utensils etc.

The central "wheel" of the roof

Yummy yogurt

Making noodles, the hard way

 

Once we were inside, we were sat and offered a bowl of thick, fresh, unsweetened yogurt to drink, which had been proudly and freshly made. It was almost gelatinous but quite tasty, bit strange drinking from a bowl though. We watched while our host prepared lunch. She had cooked a flat bread of flour and water and then while sitting on a bed, because as guests we had the table and chairs, proceeded to shred the bread into noodles. Then meat and vegetables were also sliced and placed in large metal bowls while the fire was stoked with dried horse and cow dung, a bag of which sat next to the stove. Roaming free amongst all of this was a lamb, who lived inside with the family after having been orphaned. Just adding an extra charm, he would sniff toward the food, having a nibble then wandering off again unchecked by the chef.

Every now and then I would get up and snap a few photos and, you guessed it, ran out of battery. Not to worry James had the iphone. I wandered outside to have a look around and it was all very basic rural stuff. There were solar panels on the roof, the ropes slung over the top of the ger held against any wind with old wheels. There were old baby baths holding water for the goats and sheep that roamed unrestrained and next to a fenced area were a few horses tied to the fence. There were no trees to provide shade from the hot summer sun and when the wind picked up it was a bit dusty.

Back inside, lunch was underway on the stove. We were told to sit and bowls were filled to overflowing with this hot stir-fry that was absolutely delicious. We worked our way through with a fork and as a reward for finishing, were offered tea. This was poured from a thermos, steaming into cups. It was milky but salty. I had heard of this before and was a little cautious, but acquired the taste.

We chatted, conversation being translated, questions asked and answered. This family of four, mum dad, a son and the mother’s sister, move regularly through the area. The extended family live close by and their daughter is studying in China. They are self-sufficient and sell some of their produce, dairy products and meat, to shops in the city. They are a Christian family and attend church when possible. They seemed gentle, happy people.

Those bags of dried dung by the door are leaning on beer kegs, they must party hard.

Then it was time for milking. The goats and sheep were all herded together in a pen, the kids(the goat ones) on the outside. One by one about 50 goats were milked, about a cup or two from each. They were released after being milked to their awaiting crowd of bleating kids. James and I got to have a go at milking. The two women had squatted on their haunches at the back end of the goat with a bucked positioned between their knees as they dampened their hands in the milk and deftly squired fresh milk into the bucked. I was nowhere near as professional. I was bent, my bum in the air trying to locate teats under a hairy goat bum. Must have been a sight. James took a photo but you're not seeing it. I felt like a real farm girl, grabbing goats by the horns and leading them over to be milked before shoving them out of the gate when they were finished with. My reward was one and half litre of really fresh warm goats milk, a share of the twenty litre bucket full.

All the niceties done, it was time to head home. The girls who were with us were dustier and a little more disheveled after spending the day chasing goats and sheep, but they looked like they had had a really good time. So had we. We retraced our path back to the city, the camels and eagles still on the side of the road. What a fantastic experience we had to reflect on as we all sat quietly, the girls dozing. I kept thinking though. I didn’t see anything that resembled a toilet and not a tree or bush in sight. I wasn’t game to ask but they must have a toilet somewhere. I must have got it wrong.

First Impressions

I’d managed a nap, the flight had been delayed twice so it was quite late. I had a window seat and as ‘the cabin crew prepared for landing’ I could spot a few  sparse, dim lights on the ground below. We got lower and closer to Ulaan Baatar and the next time I looked out the window, there was fairyland.

From the air at night, I would say that the city is about the size of Adelaide if you knock off the northern and southern suburbs. I could make out buildings and cars on the roads but the darkness hid lots. There were towers light up in multi colours and apart from tall buildings, there was something reaching into the sky that I couldn’t identify.

A bit of a rough landing, but I had an American guy sitting next to me who is on his third visit with a church mission, so I had my bases covered. It seemed like and did take forever to get my luggage off the carousel, but waiting outside were my beautiful husband and my in country manager.

Loaded into two taxis, we had a convoy through the dark toward the hotel. As we drove, the roads were more like dirt tracks, a bit bumpy but adding to the excitement. Especially when the truck traveling to our right wanted to turn left. James was keen to chat but I was being a bit rude and watching our new home through the window. In the dark I could see what looked like a copy of the Arc de Triumph, maybe a gift from the French community.

The thing that I couldn’t work out that was reaching into the sky, was a smoke stack. There had to be three of four, belching dark smoke into the air, big clouds spreading out and up but providing the city with electricity. No wonder the air quality is so bad.

When we got to the hotel, James pointed out a ger just inside the gate. Not sure what they use it for but thank god it wasn’t our room. By this stage, I was tired and light headed from my 24hours on the go, so really I think I would have slept anywhere.

The following week has been busier than I expected. Sunday started with apartment hunting. The variance in quality directly related to price, so lucky for us we both have an accommodation allowance.  The place we now call home is modern, brand new and resembles an Ikea display. But we have plenty of room to move and no residual cigarette smell. We are on the 6^th floor  (underneath the first ‘T’ in the photo of building with a brick shed in front of it) which is a bit of  an inconvenience when the lift isn’t working and we stand at the lift doors with bags of shopping. But at least we are settled..

I have been at work since Monday, doing orientation and language lessons daily. The Red Cross office is tucked in behind Hospital Number 1, bumpy dirt roads leading to it. At first I wasn’t too hopeful about the language lessons, but now I can greet people, say thank you, buy water and have a rough idea of numbers. My language school is in the north of the city within suburbia and there are gers and apartment buildings for neighbors.

To get a taxi here, you just stand on the side of the road and wave your hand. If someone is going in your direction, they stop. You don’t give street names but a landmark. Most street names aren’t used, relating back to the nomadic heritage. Then you would have said, “go to the 4^th big hill and we will be on the eastern side”, a little like a mud map.

The city streets are quite busy, not having been designed for more than public transport. But when the Russians left, there was an increase in private wealth, so more people could afford cars. Now you can see cars ranging from Mercedes, Jaguars and Hummers to Toyotas, Hyundai and Kia’s. They drive a little like they ride their horses and it can be a game of chicken crossing the road.

But with that said, I think I like it. The people are so friendly, nothing is too much trouble and life goes at a relaxed pace.

So from here on it’s new things to see and new things to do.