A rare solo post by Hannah! In mid-May, I abandoned Ben for my most adventurous trip yet: a girls’ weekend/40th birthday celebration for my upstairs neighbor, Shelly, in Mongolia! Shelly and I were both intrigued by Mongolia for different reasons, and once Shelly told another teacher, the amazing Sarah Cornelius - who’s incredibly well-traveled and loves organizing trips - about it, voila: a fully planned trip appeared in my inbox, including a stay with a nomad family! (Incidentally, all of the photos of any worth in this post are probably Sarah's.) Even though I was excited about the idea of the trip, I delayed in signing up for a while because I was nervous about how different and off the beaten path Mongolia was. This would definitely be the most remote, adventurous trip I had taken. Funnily enough, it was partly taking my students on our annual service learning trip to Taiwan that convinced me to go: I realized that I was asking my students to take a risk, to go outside their comfort zones to a foreign country they might not normally visit and might even feel a bit scared about. I wanted both to understand more how that felt for them and model my own willingness to do what I was asking of them. Three other female teachers also decided to go, and our group of six was formed!
Our visit to Mongolia was a whirlwind: since we only had a four-day break, we spent most of our two days flying (a flight to Seoul followed by a 3-1/2 hour flight to Ulaanbataar), then two days with doing actual sightseeing. We arrived late at night in the capital (the world’s coldest, incidentally!), met by our incredibly kind and knowledgeable guide, Dorjoo, and our driver on the trip from Active & Adventure Tours Mongolia. Their tour company was wonderful, and I would highly recommend using them (you can see the tour that we took here).
We began our first real day by driving us out of Ulaanbataar, which seemed very treeless and dusty to me. On the way out, we stopped by this store to stock up on water and snacks:
Ah, Mongolia: where even the food court can be considered an empire.
It wasn’t too long until we turned off the paved road into this:
a huge expanse of rolling hills as far as the eye can see, with the only “road signs” being tire tracks of other vehicles. As you might imagine, our ride was a bit bumpy (but sans the blaring soundtrack I’ve heard that other van drivers will turn on, probably so we could hear Dorjoo).
Our sweet touring van
...and previously mentioned wonderful guide Dorjoo explaining this prayer pole.
After about an hour’s drive, we came upon our host’s winter camp. We considered ourselves pretty lucky since most tourists come later in the season and only see the family’s summer camp, which is about an hour away and closer to the river and Ulaanbataar. Another week or two and the family would be migrating there.
It was incredible to see how isolated their camp was: looking around the valley, I could see maybe one or two other gers, and no other sign of humans. Beautiful, exhilarating, and a bit overwhelming all at once.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
The family we stayed with consisted of a mother, father, and their son, and they came out to greet us with the traditional bowl of milk from their herd (signifying hospitality), which we all took a sip of.
They then quickly ushered us into their ger (the Mongolian word for yurt), where they’d prepared an incredibly delicious lunch for us (with even a vegetarian option for me!): a hearty stew with carrots, onions, cabbage, and potatoes.
The family we stayed with consisted of a mother, father, and their son, and they came out to greet us with the traditional bowl of milk from their herd (signifying hospitality), which we all took a sip of.
They then quickly ushered us into their ger (the Mongolian word for yurt), where they’d prepared an incredibly delicious lunch for us (with even a vegetarian option for me!): a hearty stew with carrots, onions, cabbage, and potatoes.
I’d imagined that the ger would be quite barren inside, so I was surprised by the ornately painted wood furniture, the elaborate altar to Buddha, the stove surrounded by cheery rugs, and in general, how colorful everything was (not to mention the cute cat basking in the sunlight/heat from the stove)!
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Mmm, amazing dumplings already cooking for dinner!
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Dorjoo - who’d grown up in a nomadic family and then decided to pursue a different life after his family lost their herd in the Year of the Monkey, which has notoriously harsh winters - explained to us some of the basics of the ger.
The posts supporting the ger symbolize the husband and the wife, so you should never walk between them. The husband’s bed is on one side of the ger, and the wife’s is on the other, with the stove in the middle.
The ger featured a horse-head fiddle: an important symbol of Mongolian culture with its own interesting fables behind it.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Perhaps most surprising for me, there was a sink in the ger (to the right of the door) connected to its own tank… soon after we arrived, though, the water ran out, so the rest of the trip was a waterless one except for tea at meals and what we’d brought in our water bottles. (Pro tip: bring wet wipes.)
our own stove, which we still needed in May!
light and air coming in from the outside,
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
and some of our beds, along with one of the aforementioned support poles.
I loved the colorful entrance to our ger, and couldn't resist posing with the inspiration for this whole trip: Shelly!
The six year-old boy of the family, who’d waited very patiently for us to get through our lunch and tour guide information session (and, incidentally, rocked my sunglasses much better than I ever did), then took over showing us around. ^_~ Although he only knew one English word—“no”—he managed to put my use of body language in Korea to shame, very clearly communicating to Shelly that she was doing it wrong when she laid down on her bed with her head facing south (when nomad families always sleep with their heads facing north, since the doorways face south to avoid drafts from the cold winds), and sticking his tongue out and waggling his fingers to start games of tag. ^_~
After a bit of a rest for us, the boy convinced my neighbor Suzyn and I to go outside with him.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
The father of the family would walk towards a group of the horses in the pen with a long stick with a rope attached in a loop at the end in hand, and then swing the loop over the neck of a horse and pull it towards him in order to put a saddle and bridle on it, while the other horses trotted out of the way.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Suzyn and I then saw another reason for keeping horses in addition to the obvious: since trees aren’t exactly in plentiful supply, the family collects and dries their animals' dung for fuel for their stoves. (It’s better to eat meals without thinking about this.)
Again, a bit of a remote place, as you can see from the hill behind the gers:
I love the way that the light and shadows from the clouds change the landscape so much. After getting this view from the small hill, I decided to climb the big hill in front of our ger to get a better view of the surrounding area.
Since I had no takers amongst my friends and the okay from Dorjoo to go it alone, I started up a slope that was much, much steeper than it looked! I felt a bit heady after arriving at the top, windblown and panting like crazy!
I couldn’t believe how far I could see, and how beautiful the light from the sun through the clouds playing over the landscape was. Mongolia was just starting to wake up to spring after the winter, and seeing the green starting to emerge from here was beautiful… while at the same time, I felt very, very small in such a vast place.
On my way down, I saw something with a grey bushy tail chase what I thought was a deer into the valley running down the hills here. Dorjoo later told me that I’d probably seen a fox!
I also had to take a picture of our lone toilet. So lonely. ...But I guess that's a desireable feature in a toilet.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
The intrepid Sarah got a more up-close shot: as you can see, a classic squatter with wooden walls that came up to my belly button (so I was always bending my knees when pulling up my pants), and the entrance wall half open (facing south, of course). I was surprised how fast I got used to it—I think Korea, Japan, and China prepared me well—though using this in May was a brisk experience. I didn’t ask what it's like to use it in the winter!
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
When I arrived back at the camp, the brother-in-law and Dorjoo saddled up the not-so-tame-looking horses and took us for a walk around the valley.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Soooo cool to ride horses in Mongolia!
By the time we returned, the family’s herd of 300-400 animals was starting to converge on the camp:
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Amongst the crew were goats, sheep, and cows, who started feeding their calves
and then got an extra milking from the mom of the family.
It was feeding time for baby goat, too, so I set out on a mission with the boy—whose job it was to feed the baby—to find him amongst all the herd!
It took us a while to actually locate him, but once we did, the boy very efficiently divided the feeding duties amongst the six of us, who were only too happy to help! I loved how the goat’s tail waggled the whole time he drank.
Dorjoo then ushered us inside for some dinner, accompanied by an offer of Mongolian vodka (with the brand related Chinggis Khan, of course) from the father.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
I think he was a bit disappointed that one sip was enough for most of us… I can definitely say it was warming. ^_~
Dorjoo again amazed us by the depth of his knowledge about Mongolian history and with telling us more about details of nomadic life, like how nomad children all go to publicly-funded boarding schools since getting to and from a school each day isn’t practical. At one point, the conversation fell silent, and Dorjoo looked up at us and smiled, saying, “When this happens, in Mongolia, we say that somewhere, a baby has just been born.” Soon after that, the little boy started whispering conspiratorially with his mother, and then came over and presented each of us with a gift: earrings made of dangling white balls of felt from their flocks that she had made herself. Such a cool memento of our time there.
After dinner, Dorjoo taught us how to play shagai, a Mongolian horse-racing game using the ankle bones of sheep and goats. You make a long line of ankle bones to symbolize the race track, then choose a bone as your token and place it at the beginning of the track.
Everyone then takes turns rolling four ankle bones, and depending on which way the bones land, you move a certain number of spaces. I think the boy was pretty well beating all of us when suddenly we were interrupted by excited cries from the brother-in-law.
He and the father of the family had spotted two wolves lurking in the hills near the gers. We were able to see them—though not very clearly—with the help of binoculars and a good camera (though not clearly enough for a picture, unfortunately).
After gazing for a bit at the hills and at the stunning sunset in the other direction, were all enlisted in helping the family round up the herd to put in the pen for the night to try to prevent them getting picked off by any hungry wolves.
The cool thing about herding was that you simply had to walk towards them to get the goats and sheep to get them to move, so soon the whole herd was streaming into the pen: a strangely beautiful sight, especially in the light of the sunset. (Incidentally, this was at about 9:30 at night… I couldn’t believe how light it was so late in May!)
our group,
and us together with our family.
As we went to bed that night, we were all slightly nervous about the prospect of the wolves. Usually, Dorjoo said, they didn’t come so close to human camps unless they were rather desperate. When someone asked how the family protects themselves, he told us that guns are fairly regulated in Mongolia but are okay for nomad families, so I was a bit surprised to hear that the family didn’t have or want one. It felt surprisingly vulnerable to be miles away from most neighbors with the prospect of wolves circling in the hills, and I was impressed by how brave the family and their dogs were in calmly planning to watch over their flocks that night.
Although I usually pride myself on my sleeping ability, I have to say I slept fitfully that night from a combination of factors: paranoia about the wolves, the barks of the family’s two big dogs on their patrol that night, trying to get comfortable on a hard cot, hearing my roommates’ various noises, needing to go to the bathroom, imagining getting surprised in the bathroom by a wolf, convincing myself I didn’t need to go to the bathroom, repeat.
I finally awoke the next morning to light streaming through the top of the ger and emerged to see the flocks already outside their pen and milling around, along with the family's two dogs, who were very tired from their night of circling and barking. ^^
Despite us eating breakfast in the ger just a few feet from him, the boy was also fast asleep: apparently he and his parents had also visited another family after we’d gone to bed, and that combined with all the chasing the day before had him pretty tuckered out.
When it was time to get on our way for the day, I think all of us were a bit reluctant to leave. Though the nomad life by no means seemed easy, the quiet, the sense of serenity, and the ever-changing shadows playing on the mountains around us had grown on me so quickly it surprised me. It felt like we’d been there much longer than just one night. More than that, I felt very humbled by our hosts’ hospitality and how easy and wonderful the experience of staying with them had been compared to the vague, undefined “hardships” I’d been expecting. I understand much better now why the Mongolian government is encouraging different programs like homestays to generate extra income and preserve the nomads’ lifestyles.
Before we climbed in our van, the mother and father of the family hugged us and sent us off by dipping a stick into a can of milk and waving it after us in a ceremonial goodbye.
From there, we took an even bumpier two hour ride to Khustai National Park, with a short stop on the way a Turkish monument called Ungut, where one of my favorite moments occurred.
We pulled up to a (very rare) fenced in area with some weathered stone monoliths inside, with Dorjoo telling us that this was the burial site of a nomad leader from hundreds of years ago.
The leader had died on the group’s journey, and in order to show that their group was remaining with him in spirit, they set up several carved stone statues in the shapes of lions, and then a line of stone obelisks stretching over 2.5 kilometers.
In order to keep modern-day nomads’ cattle from harming the ancient statues, there was a small fence built around the main burial site, but when we pulled up, there were four cows inside the fence, all huddled together by the edge of the fence on one side. While the gate of the fence was open, Dorjoo explained that the cows must have wandered into the enclosure and then gotten trapped!
We used our herding skills from the previous night to gradually get each of the skittish cows to slip out of the open gate, and once they were all together, they simultaneously took off running with what I can only describe as abandon. One cow even kicked up its heels as it ran, while Dorjoo explained that the cows were happy because now they could run and catch up with their herd, which was probably only a few miles away. I had no idea before this moment that cows could be so adorable.
Once we got to Khustai, we drove through the protected area slowly, catching glimpses of marmots (groudhog-like creatures that would skitter off as we got close), deer, and most impressively, the Takhi (wild Mongolian horses).
They actually went extinct in Mongolia, but horses that had earlier been sent to Europe were repatriated a few years ago, and now the herd is growing in what seems to be a very successful return to life in the wild.
Though there’s tons of horse racing to be done in Mongolia, these horses are said to be much faster than any the nomads have, and can’t interbreed with other types of horses because they have an extra chromosome pair.
After lunch at the visitors’ center in the park—where we met the older son of the family we stayed with, who looked uncannily like his dad—we headed back to Ulaanbataar, where I noticed for the first time that the cars on the road were about 50/50 split between having the driver’s seat on the left or the right hand side of the car! It kept startling me to look over and see the driver on what I expected to be the passenger side, and Dorjoo explained that Mongolia’s cars all come second-hand from Japan and South Korea, so both types are allowed. One more reason why I was glad we had a driver!
The capital seemed less bleak to me that day as we saw some of the less industrial, more modern parts of town, starting, though, with the Gandan Monastery, which had a unique look to it that Dorjoo explained came from Tibetan Buddhism, which was closely allied with Mongolian Buddhism until the country came under Communist rule.
From there, we headed to Mongolia’s Parliament, where—of course—a giant statue of Chinggis Khan sits at the top of the stairs. There was a crowd of about 90 very done up men and women on the steps of the building, with the guys all in suits and the women in jeweled silk dresses and hair in curly updos: it’s a custom for university students to come here and take pictures once they graduate.
The square, as you can see, was pretty impressive, and the area around it had a bunch of two- and three-storied pastel, more classical-looking buildings surrounding the square in front of the Parliament building, with some huge sculptures and then big shops at the end of the square.
One of my favorite sights there, though, was in the square itself, where parents were renting Powerwheels for their kids and driving them around via remote control. I generally don’t approve of Hummers, but this baby in the Hummer is awesome.
I couldn’t help appreciating how cool the murals were, like Soviet space-age fairy tales.
From there, Dorjoo took us to two great shopping spots: a Mongolian cashmere outlet next to a souvenir shop shaped like a huge ger. Our time there flew by and then some, so we only made it to our next activity thanks to our driver’s prowess: a traditional Mongolian music and dance show.
I wasn’t originally super psyched to go see Mongolian traditional music and dance, since I figured it would be really touristy, maybe cheesy, and probably boring, but--despite the Tahki horses being beautiful--this was absolutely the highlight of the day for me.
The instruments themselves—including some long, tusk-like horns, a cross between an organ and a xylophone, and the aforementioned horse head fiddle—were interesting just to see, much less to hear, and they also had a throat singer there (whose singing I can only inadequately describe as something akin to a human didgeridoo).
Some of the music wasn’t to my taste, but there were other instrumental songs that I liked so much that I contemplated buying their cd, and their costumes—especially at the end—had such a unique, beautiful style.
For me, though, the star of the show was the contortionist, who did some things that were just insane.
The piece de resistance was when she took out a single, two-foot high metal pole that had a flat surface the size of a playing card on the top. She then did a handstand next to it and proceeded to curl her spine forward until her bum was stacked on the top of her head, balancing her body weight on her head and hands. She then delicately bit the metal tab in front of her and lifted her hands from the ground, resting her entire body weight on just her teeth.
Thought. My. Brain. Would. Explode.
So, I’d definitely recommend the traditional music and dance show. ^_~
From there, we headed to a Mongolian barbecue place for a fun birthday dinner for Shelly, then back to the hotel for the night.
The goats also seemed to like Shelly. Leave it to a teacher to get the whole group's attention. ^_~
As we went to bed that night, we were all slightly nervous about the prospect of the wolves. Usually, Dorjoo said, they didn’t come so close to human camps unless they were rather desperate. When someone asked how the family protects themselves, he told us that guns are fairly regulated in Mongolia but are okay for nomad families, so I was a bit surprised to hear that the family didn’t have or want one. It felt surprisingly vulnerable to be miles away from most neighbors with the prospect of wolves circling in the hills, and I was impressed by how brave the family and their dogs were in calmly planning to watch over their flocks that night.
Although I usually pride myself on my sleeping ability, I have to say I slept fitfully that night from a combination of factors: paranoia about the wolves, the barks of the family’s two big dogs on their patrol that night, trying to get comfortable on a hard cot, hearing my roommates’ various noises, needing to go to the bathroom, imagining getting surprised in the bathroom by a wolf, convincing myself I didn’t need to go to the bathroom, repeat.
I finally awoke the next morning to light streaming through the top of the ger and emerged to see the flocks already outside their pen and milling around, along with the family's two dogs, who were very tired from their night of circling and barking. ^^
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Despite us eating breakfast in the ger just a few feet from him, the boy was also fast asleep: apparently he and his parents had also visited another family after we’d gone to bed, and that combined with all the chasing the day before had him pretty tuckered out.
When it was time to get on our way for the day, I think all of us were a bit reluctant to leave. Though the nomad life by no means seemed easy, the quiet, the sense of serenity, and the ever-changing shadows playing on the mountains around us had grown on me so quickly it surprised me. It felt like we’d been there much longer than just one night. More than that, I felt very humbled by our hosts’ hospitality and how easy and wonderful the experience of staying with them had been compared to the vague, undefined “hardships” I’d been expecting. I understand much better now why the Mongolian government is encouraging different programs like homestays to generate extra income and preserve the nomads’ lifestyles.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
Before we climbed in our van, the mother and father of the family hugged us and sent us off by dipping a stick into a can of milk and waving it after us in a ceremonial goodbye.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
From there, we took an even bumpier two hour ride to Khustai National Park, with a short stop on the way a Turkish monument called Ungut, where one of my favorite moments occurred.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
The leader had died on the group’s journey, and in order to show that their group was remaining with him in spirit, they set up several carved stone statues in the shapes of lions, and then a line of stone obelisks stretching over 2.5 kilometers.
In order to keep modern-day nomads’ cattle from harming the ancient statues, there was a small fence built around the main burial site, but when we pulled up, there were four cows inside the fence, all huddled together by the edge of the fence on one side. While the gate of the fence was open, Dorjoo explained that the cows must have wandered into the enclosure and then gotten trapped!
We used our herding skills from the previous night to gradually get each of the skittish cows to slip out of the open gate, and once they were all together, they simultaneously took off running with what I can only describe as abandon. One cow even kicked up its heels as it ran, while Dorjoo explained that the cows were happy because now they could run and catch up with their herd, which was probably only a few miles away. I had no idea before this moment that cows could be so adorable.
Once we got to Khustai, we drove through the protected area slowly, catching glimpses of marmots (groudhog-like creatures that would skitter off as we got close), deer, and most impressively, the Takhi (wild Mongolian horses).
They actually went extinct in Mongolia, but horses that had earlier been sent to Europe were repatriated a few years ago, and now the herd is growing in what seems to be a very successful return to life in the wild.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
After lunch at the visitors’ center in the park—where we met the older son of the family we stayed with, who looked uncannily like his dad—we headed back to Ulaanbataar, where I noticed for the first time that the cars on the road were about 50/50 split between having the driver’s seat on the left or the right hand side of the car! It kept startling me to look over and see the driver on what I expected to be the passenger side, and Dorjoo explained that Mongolia’s cars all come second-hand from Japan and South Korea, so both types are allowed. One more reason why I was glad we had a driver!
The capital seemed less bleak to me that day as we saw some of the less industrial, more modern parts of town, starting, though, with the Gandan Monastery, which had a unique look to it that Dorjoo explained came from Tibetan Buddhism, which was closely allied with Mongolian Buddhism until the country came under Communist rule.
Photo credit: Sarah Cornelius
The square, as you can see, was pretty impressive, and the area around it had a bunch of two- and three-storied pastel, more classical-looking buildings surrounding the square in front of the Parliament building, with some huge sculptures and then big shops at the end of the square.
We saw more evidence of Soviet influence when we went to the Zaisan Memorial, which honors WWII fallen soldiers for a birds’ eye view of the sprawling city.
I took a peek at the American international school in Ulaanbataar from the top.
Photo credit: Suzyn Kelley
I couldn’t help appreciating how cool the murals were, like Soviet space-age fairy tales.
From there, Dorjoo took us to two great shopping spots: a Mongolian cashmere outlet next to a souvenir shop shaped like a huge ger. Our time there flew by and then some, so we only made it to our next activity thanks to our driver’s prowess: a traditional Mongolian music and dance show.
The instruments themselves—including some long, tusk-like horns, a cross between an organ and a xylophone, and the aforementioned horse head fiddle—were interesting just to see, much less to hear, and they also had a throat singer there (whose singing I can only inadequately describe as something akin to a human didgeridoo).
Some of the music wasn’t to my taste, but there were other instrumental songs that I liked so much that I contemplated buying their cd, and their costumes—especially at the end—had such a unique, beautiful style.
For me, though, the star of the show was the contortionist, who did some things that were just insane.
The piece de resistance was when she took out a single, two-foot high metal pole that had a flat surface the size of a playing card on the top. She then did a handstand next to it and proceeded to curl her spine forward until her bum was stacked on the top of her head, balancing her body weight on her head and hands. She then delicately bit the metal tab in front of her and lifted her hands from the ground, resting her entire body weight on just her teeth.
Thought. My. Brain. Would. Explode.
So, I’d definitely recommend the traditional music and dance show. ^_~
From there, we headed to a Mongolian barbecue place for a fun birthday dinner for Shelly, then back to the hotel for the night.
Looking outside, it felt a bit lame to be getting back to the hotel so early, until I found out that it was 9:45 pm?!
We went to the airport bright and early the next morning, where I very happily got my Mongolia passport stamp and did a bit of shopping or my nephews, picking up a sweet camel, a model of a ger, and a wooden puzzle engineered by a well-known Mongolian genius, along with a beautifully designed felt wallet, and a Kindle and Macbook cover.
I’m so thankful that I got to do this trip, and I’m especially thankful that we had such a considerate, thoughtful, caring tour guide who taught us so much about what we were seeing and experiencing. Mongolia has an amazingly beautiful countryside, and the whole trip felt like a huge, exciting adventure, despite the fact that we were only really there for two days.
It also made me feel much more willing to go to places that I hadn’t considered before out of uncertainty and thinking it would be too rough. Dorjoo mentioned that their tour group also does hiking and kayaking trips along with coordinating volunteer English teachers during the summer, so I am definitely tempted to return!
