I never think of travel as a list with little boxes waiting for checking. I see travel more of a continuum, where it sort of never stops, as it never really began. With this philosophy comes many “where am I” wake ups and to my husband’s great frustration exclaims like: “what side of the road am I supposed to drive on.” Long live my optimistic sense of adventure, I say. But as much as I don’t have a list - there are obviously places I have dreamed of my whole life and would be only so honored to go to. Mongolia was definitely one of those. A country of shamans and nomads, where falconry, horse racing and wrestling in very tight jackets and speedos is just another day in the Gobi.
Mongolia is one of those places where everything and nothing is what makes it so special. There aren’t any “must see” destinations and nothing about Mongolia ticks off a perfect Instagram photo opportunity. It has a quiet soothing way about it that invites you as an outsider to observe and to marvel. My plan was to leave the capital city of Ulaanbaatar and for 10 days just horseback ride a big loop throughout the country.
After about a week in Mongolia, it becomes like a healing balm. My cheeky horse finally starts to evolve its friendly trot to a freedom-inspiring canter across these verdant plains. Now that my body had started to move as one being with this animal, I was able to feel the vastness of open space in Genghis Khan’s homeland. Mongolia was once the largest empire on earth and today the locals celebrate this legacy with a reverence for Khan; he valiantly comes up in every conversation you have.
Actually I was feeling like Genghis Khan himself. I was galloping around the steppe and all I could see was the biggest sky. I felt like I was a valiant and proud explorer of the unknown on my speedy horse. Of course, at some point during my trip I sent a photo to Mother and she responded, “is that a pony?” So yes, Mongolian horses are a little smaller than other horses. But it did not deter me, I was a powerful explorer on pony back!
My hands felt thick as I clenched the leather reins and my thighs were getting their workout for the day. I felt that the vastness of Mongolia needed a guide, and so a travel operator gifted me Zobi. He reminded me so much of Po, from the movie “Kung Fu Panda,” as he had the same sweetness and appetite. And so together, mostly in silence we let the landscape become our contented distraction. Of course, Zobi would every now and then, out of nowhere start belting out some traditional throat singing. Somewhere between a frog and Ed Sheeran was this beautiful sound floating around the Gobi desert.
We charged across this no-where beauty of Mongolia, with dry air coming off the Khongor sand dunes and more of the steppe spreading out aimlessly in all directions. In the distance the Altai Mountains created a barrier between China. And tucked into these mountains are these permanent glaciers that have now started to change shape and melt thanks to global warming. But they still contained some mystery in their space-like formations. But, really, that is exactly how Mongolia feels, a little other-worldly - like you’re traveling into another universe.
But besides for these mountainous fissures in the southern side of the country, there is mostly just open land. And wherever you travel across the country you find piles of rocks. Some giant piles as big as a house, and others just a couple dozen rocks heaped on top of each other. Locals lay down rocks and blue ribbons, called oboo, as a Shamanistic worship to rock and sky.
When traveling, it is customary to stop and circle an oboo three times, moving clockwise, in order to have a safer journey. If you happen to have mare’s milk with you, a little splash onto the rocks is also considered a good offering.
I was fortunate enough that Zobi had family all over the country, and some of them had extra yurts (or Mongolians call them a ger) for guests like me. And since his family was nomadic, we had an interesting time finding them.
Entering a ger camp is done with no knocking; Mongolians have an open door policy for all. The motley duo that we are, enter and sit down with Zobi’s large extended family – uncles, aunts, grandparents and a host of toddlers and newborns. Russian or Mongolian are offered to me - and since I speak neither I settle for a translated version from Zobi. Food here is meat plus dairy heavy, and handed out en masse. Of course I received the usual “are you married?” question but in Mongolia the more important question is: “can you ride a horse?”Due to all the goats, think cashmere, nomads enjoy the simple boiling or open fire roasting of meat with some herbs or plants found on the steppe. Milk on the other hand, one of the only Asian countries where it is celebrated, filters into every meal and even snacks. Fermented mare’s milk sits in waiting before entering a Buddhist temples all over. And as a sort of sign of welcome, the almost alcoholic watery fluid is handed around as visitors arrive anywhere. Besides for this sloshy delight Mongolians love to snack on cookies, called “boortsog,” that is simply milk curd dried in the sun and then sometimes fried and dried again. Surrounded by somewhat surreal elements the country’s nothingness is its greatest privilege and also its grace. There are no road signs here, no real roads even – just the steppe and the sky. Every so often a dust tornado comes out of nowhere and takes the meditation a little deeper.
And then, as out of nothingness, a Ger (or yurt) tent appears with a family of smiles waving us by. For a country of open spaces, finding the Buddhist temples, wild horses and any family held Naadam Festivals (Mongolian Olympics of archery, wrestling and, of course, horse riding) is tricky – but they’re there if you keep your eyes and ears open enough. Some smaller festivals you just happen upon and they’re often creations just from different families challenging each other. I rode up to a small festival one morning, and Zobi suggested we pick a family and join the festivities.
First up was the male wrestling - Genghis Khan considered it as one of the three Manly Skills - the other two being archery and horse riding. When it came to wrestling I knew how to pick a team, the one with the best abs.
I watched as these stocky wrestlers started their hypnotic gambol. Nothing felt disrespectful, or conceited, or done for the silly fame of it. It was a sport. One for the honor of the family - as a way to continue these age old traditions that Mongolia so loves. In fact they found some cave paintings in the Bayankhongor Province of Mongolia dating back to the Neolithic age of 7000 BC showing two naked men grappling with surrounding crowds. In the Inner Mongolian version of wrestling, any body part other than the feet touching the ground signals defeat - of course, I would lose this match right away with my pathetic knees. There are also no weight classes, age limits, or time limits in a match. And this I found amazing - It is not uncommon to see a toddler wrestling a grown man during the Mongolian Naadam festival.
Archery seemed a little more serious to me. The Mongol bow was recurved and composite. So naturally I was ready to geek out on them. But I’ll give you the smaller version of my study. Basically the distinctive recurved shape means that the tips of the bow to which the string was attached is bent in the opposite direction of the draw, dramatically increasing velocity and impact. And composite means that whatever material was used, wood for instance, had to cure in a regulated temperate and humidity space. If these methods weren’t followed, the bow would buckle or rip apart in the archer’s hands while being drawn. Watching the speed of the arrows, and the precision of each archer’s ability - I knew why I wasn’t competing.
Horse riding as a competition I understood better than the other two. I have spent many a day at the races in England defending the hat - I struggled when the royal family arrived, because some of those hats I just couldn’t understand. But I digress. After spending my day at basically the Mongolian Olympics I really felt I was starting to get the Mongolians - they had such pride in the country, such love for doing activities together that they basically engineered flash olympics all over. I took to my horse and started to ponder about this great country - I was experiencing the unexpected, I had no formal plans really. I was letting Mongolia show me, the moment I let go of the checklists and the “I have to see” ideas Mongolia bloomed. I was without plans, and Mongolia rewarded me with spontaneity.
As the sun was coming down over the steppe the country felt so eternal, the borders seemed so far away and I felt that I couldn’t gauge its actual size. Ghengis Khan was smiling at me from every pebble and every little bush I saw under my horse’s feet. Maybe he was ready to challenge me to a little race on horseback...and I was ready for anything.
This looked amazing and totally out of the norm (although, for you, what is norm?? :)) What an incredible journey.