5 Days of July - Day 2: Yak attack!

The second morning of my 5 Days in July began with a calm, rosy sunrise over the rolling hills west of Khujirt.  (All photos courtesy of Reade L. and Kenny L.)

Good morning, Uvurkhangai!

Following on last summer's traditions, I made American gambir (no eggs, no milk pancakes) for breakfast on one of the propane cook stoves.

Making American gambir for breakfast out of the back of the furgong

But the morning was rushed in order to get to the yak festival for the opening ceremony, which supposedly began at 11am.  We had hours over very rough roads between us and our destination.  Luckily we traveled through some of the most scenic countryside in Mongolia, the Orkhon National Park:

Overlook at the entrance of the Orkhon National Park

5 Days of July: Day 1 - Camels and Kittens

2015 has been a busy summer largely spent in Ulaanbaatar.  To break up my urban routine, I organized a 5-day vacation out to the 2015 yak festival in Bat-Ulzii, the danshig in honor of the 380th anniversary of Undur Geegen Zanabazar, and the site of my first archaeological expedition to Mongolia, Tamiryn Ulaan Khoshuu.  I thank Kenny L. and Reade L. in advance for their gorgeous photos in this and subsequent 5 Days of July posts!

Day 1 was focused on getting out of Ulaanbaatar (about 2 hours behind schedule, but who's counting) and covering as much terrain as possible.  It was a sweltering July day on the long road west.  Our furgong - decommissioned Soviet army van - was like a sauna on wheels.

The sweaty drive from UB to points west

About 4 or 5 hours from UB, we broke up our journey with some camel riding in the sand dunes of Elsen Tasarkhai on the border of Bulgan and Uvurkhangai provinces.

View of the Elsen Tasarkhai sand dunes and the mountains of the Khungun Tarna Protected Area in the distance

We arranged to ride with Bilge, the good-natured patriarch of a camel herding family that lives near the sand dunes in summer.  When we rolled up to their encampment, no one was home.  A few minutes later, a parade of camels and riders loped along the flat towards us:

A Bactrian camel with a summertime coat and carpet saddle.  Temee is 'camel' in Mongolian.

Mongolia Inside & Out 104 - Alcohol

Last time in Mongolia Inside & Out, readers were treated to an info-dump of tips for dining in Ulaanbaatar along with some general comments on Mongolian cuisine.  In the 103 post, I alluded to alcohol, particularly with recommendations for good beer in the capital.  But alcohol in Mongolia merits an entire post of its own.

Chinggis: world-conqueror and premium-quality vodka

A few words on drinking alcohol in Mongolia:

Every country has its own drinking culture, or numerous drinking subcultures.  Mongolia is no exception.  The production, exchange, and consumption of several kinds of alcohol are significant components of Mongolian society.  Official visits to someone's home, religious celebrations, national holidays, graduations, weddings, and office parties all involve vodka or some sort of alcoholic beverage (often airag, fermented mare's milk produced primarily at the household level).

What to drink:
But it's not all bad news: drinking culture in Mongolia includes a lot of merry-making, singing, jokes, and bonding.  But what do you drink when you're in Mongolia?  The primary alcoholic beverages you will encounter in Mongolia are the Big Three: vodka, fermented mare's milk, and beer.

Vodka  (arikh)

This photo is appropriate for my Mongolian vodka consumption experience on several levels

National Naadam 2015: March of the Nine White Banners

July 11th marked the beginning of the National Naadam celebrations in Ulaanbaatar.

MIAT, the Mongolian national airline, wishes the Mongolian people a happy Naadam.

While I find the National Naadam to be a bit crowded and touristy for my taste, I was fortunate enough this year to escort the nine white banners of the Mongolian state from Parliament to the National Stadium for the opening ceremony.  On a bright Saturday morning, I raced over to Chinggis Square (originally Sukhbaatar Square), where the honor guard carried the nine banners out of their home inside the Government Palace to be marched through the city center to the stadium.

A military band waits in Chinggis Square just south of the Government Palace to provide music for the entrance of the nine white banners

The nine white banners head south from the square, carried by mounted honor guardsmen and mobbed by eager crowds

 The nine banners derive from the time of Chinggis Khan and the Mongol Empire, when hair from the tails of white horses and black horses were used to make the nine white and nine black banners, respectively.  The nine white banners were used for times and missions of peace, whereas the nine black banners were used for war.  During most of the year, the two sets of nine banners are housed inside the Government Palace, and the banners play important roles in state ceremonies for the modern nation-state.

Police and military personnel flank the honor procession as crowds march with the banners through the city

Mongolia Inside & Out 103 - Eating and drinking (mostly beer) in Ulaanbaatar

Welcome back to the Mongolia Inside & Out series!

The 102 post discussed the ger as an important part of Mongolian society and culture, along with a suite of related customs, themes, and ideas that shed a little light on the bigger picture (Mongolia).  This time let's take a peek into food, drink, meals, and dining in Mongolia.  Most of the 102 post will focus on experiences in the capital, which can be treated separately from dining in the rest of Mongolia (with some notable exceptions), as I plan to do a future post on the types and preparations of traditional food once I have better pictures.  For now:

Sustenance and succulence in Ulaanbaatar

Ulaanbaatar has undergone seismic shifts over the last 10 years in terms of the food and beverages available in stores, markets, restaurants, and bars throughout the city.  For these and more practical reasons - hey, you'll need to know where to get a good salad in UB after weeks in the countryside, trust me - I think Ulaanbaatar merits its own post.  Especially in the last 2-3 years, travelers and locals now have a decent variety of good options to choose from when they're out on the town or looking to buy groceries.

The Way Things Were, 2005-2007:

I remember when finding a few tiny green apples at the store was a rare treasure, and all ice cream seemed to be bland, freezer-burned, ice-encrusted, vanilla pre-loaded into wafer cones stored loose and unwrapped in a freezer bin along with unpackaged meat.  Now you can get local greenhouse-grown spinach and cherry tomatoes, corn chips, cocoa powder, imported European cheese, a plentiful variety of fresh-baked breads and pastries, and tofu without breaking a sweat.

I remember when there were a handful of good non-Mongolian dinner options, practically no coffee shops (yes, Millie's served good coffee, but that is not a *coffee place* and they roasted their own beans because where else were they going to get coffee?), and Cafe Amsterdam was pretty much your only choice for breakfast (unless you wanted to break your budget at Kempinski or eat at 11am).  Now you have so many choices that I can barely remember what it was like 10 years ago: sushi, Korean hotpot, vegan, Indian, Turkish, Chinese (and Xinjiang!), French, Mexican (we'll come back to that one), fried chicken, Japanese bakeries (yes, I mean bakerIES, plural), and on and on and on.  I remember being really excited to get real hot chocolate in 2007.

Just recently someone complained on UB Foodies - a whole Facebook community devoted to the city's food scene - about a cappuccino that had too much foam.  Ok, I'll take off my bifocals, put away the Werther's Originals, and get back to the heart of the post.

Because I've seen many a visitor struggle with getting a decent meal or finding a particular food item while in UB, I'm going to spend a significant chunk of this post attempting to rectify that situation.

Naadam 2015 - Arkhust adventure

This year I made it my mission to attend a real countryside Naadam.  While the National Naadam celebrations in Ulaanbaatar draw the tourist crowds through sportsmanship, pomp and spectacle, and celebrities (this year Steven Segal was in attendance), the small Naadam celebrations held at the county- or soum-level have a community atmosphere and amateur appeal that I find charming and accessible that I find lacking from the national celebrations.

Arkhust, about 120km southeast of Ulaanbaatar, is a lovely little county seat not far from the train line running from the capital city to Sainshand, Erlian, and China.  The town is nestled against rocky hills that ring the Nagal National Protected Area, which shield the residents from the bitter north wind and provide a scenic backdrop in contrast to the expansive steppe to the south.  After calling the soum cultural center, I decided that Arkhust would be the ideal balance of proximity, rural countryside feel, local scale (we were the only non-Mongolians there), and hospitality.  The opening day of the Arkhust Naadam was to be held on July 9th, just before the celebrations in Ulaanbaatar.  Armed with some directions and a desire for a real Naadam experience, off we went on Thursday morning!

Drought: June and July are usually the rainy season in Mongolia.  As you can see, the steppe lands are yellow and brown even in early July.  This lack of lush vegetation is already negatively impacting airag production in the area.  (Don't worry - the lovely Naadam organizers in Arkhust gave us some airag anyway)

As we crested a hill on our way to Arkhust, our vehicle startled a herd of tsagaan zeer (Mongolian antelope), which raced away as if pursued by a large predator:

Mongolian antelope are indigenous to the steppe region and supposedly a common sight in the eastern provinces.  Despite 10 years of traveling in the Mongolian countryside, this was the first time I'd ever encountered these animals.

At the Arkhust Naadam, community members were decked out in gorgeous deel - the Mongolian national outfit - in all kinds of patterns and colors, accented with belts and hats:

There were almost as many attendees on horseback as on foot.  While many if not most of the kids on horseback were jockeys, some were just here to enjoy the festivities, like this young boy:

Mongolia Inside & Out 102: Introducing the ger

Welcome back to the Mongolia Inside & Out series!  Last time I shared the 23 things I think everyone should know about coming to Mongolia.  At the end of the inaugural post, I made a grandiose claim about this post: that it would be dedicated to introducing Mongolian culture and customs.  My hubris knew no bounds!

Pictured: no bounds within which to contain all my hubris

As I struggled to draft a comprehensive yet introductory post on the topic, I found myself returning to the Mongolian ger each time I considered almost every relevant subject.  A full essay on Mongolian culture would invariably come up short; although it's tempting (and I was sorely tempted) to cram everything one knows into a single piece of writing, the end result always suffers.

As an alternative, let me introduce a number of key aspects of Mongolian culture through one of its defining features: the ger.

A typical Mongolian ger

The traditional dwelling of mobile or nomadic Mongolians is the ger (pronounced "gair'), called yurt elsewhere.  Ger refers both to this specific kind of dwelling and to the concept of "home" in general.  A UB urbanite will speak of his/her ger and mean an apartment or townhouse.  A traveler will see the classic white mushroom-like ger almost everywhere in Mongolia, although some ethnic minorities dwell in other abodes (a topic for another post).  There is a ger inside the Parliament house in which the most sacred ceremonies and high-level meetings of the Mongolian state take place.  Luxury tourist resorts have opulent ger outfitted with snow leopard pelts and embroidered wall hangings.  Most ger in the countryside have solar panels to power TVs, radios, charge cell phones, and even power the odd refrigerator.  In Ulaanbaatar, the eponymous ger districts are crowded with once-mobile dwellings permanently nestled together on the dusty slopes around the city center, cheek-by-jowl with solid buildings and winding dirt tracks.