The Mongolia Post: Chinggis Sized

July 6th – 17th 2011

Allyson and I have talked extensively on how to do this post.  We didn’t have our computer with us during the week we were in the countryside of Mongolia.  We did take notes in our physical journal, but we still faced coming back and having to try and document everything in what was one of the most unique weeks of my life.  So the following post is going to be large; I called it “Chinggis sized” as that is the more correct phonetic spelling of the Khan of all Khans.  (Better known in America as Ghengis Khan.) Unlike other posts, we both have taken a tour at adding our POVs. So you will see either one of us talking throughout.

Background

For those who do not know, Allyson did the Peace Corps from 2002-2004 in Mongolia.  She was assigned to a remote Soum (village) called Turgen in a far Western aimag (state) called Uvs.   

In summary, she had a life changing two years. She lived in a hasha (fenced yard) in a traditional Mongolian felt ger adjacent to an incredibly nice Mongolian family who watched over her.  She taught English and life-skills and otherwise bonded with her family and with this small town comprised largely of still nomadic herders. I always brag about how hardcore my wife is and her two year “roughing it” experience is a prime example. Some examples include having to haul and boil her own water from a local river, learn the Mongolian language in a town of no English speakers, fend off wild dogs, and sleep in a glorified tent for two years of sub-freezing winters and scorching summers. I was set to visit her after her 1st full year, but due to her being medevaced a week before my scheduled arrival, we had to cancel. So for me this adventure has been a long time in the making.

On the plane ride to Mongolia Pearce commented that he had not seen me this stressed since I had left Accenture…not even for my Master’s COMPS test I took last semester. I had good reasons. I was returning to a place and people that mean a lot to me for sure, but this visit was also not without its pressures. On the one hand it was a reunion with my family I hadn’t seen for seven years. Would all the flights work out as we needed them to? (flying within Mongolia is difficult, especially to my Aimaig where there are only a few flight per week.) Could I still speak enough Mongolian to not only get us around, but to communicate with my family in any kind of meaningful way? Would we slip into a comfortable familiarity or had time and distance created an invisible wall between us? 

At the same time I was really worried about having Pearce with me and what he would think of everything. I really wanted him to love it as much as I did and even though Mongolia is beautiful and the people are amazing, it can also be a pretty extreme place. You are always dirty, there are lots of bugs, there is animal poop everywhere in the countryside and people want you to eat day and night. I had two years two develop some kind of patience, understanding, and stomach resistance; he was only going to have just over a week.

A video cast from our arrival.

Roll call

There are certain recurring people in this story and instead of trying to reintroduce them, it would be good to list some of the people who feature a lot:

Turgen

Cergay – Allyson’s hasha mom

Buya – Allyson’s hasha dad

Boya – Allyson’s older hasha brother (now 20)

Masoi – Allyson’s younger hasha brother (now 17)

Gana – Cergay’s older sister’s son (20; archeology student, informal Mongolian tour guide)

Batcoo a.k.a Boggy – Cergay’s sister’s son (4 years old)

UB

George – former Peace Corps volunteer with Allyson who now lives in UB with his wife, Tsevelee and two children, Temujin (10) and Zaya (4)

Tuya – Cergay’s younger sister (now expecting)

Background

Even after little over a week, I have a lot to say about Mongolia.  Obviously I had heard many things about the country, the people and the culture from Allyson, but despite this it remained a country steeped in mystery.  We are currently staying in the capital, Ulaanbatar with George and his family. He has lived and worked here for years now and knows Mongolia and its people very well. We got into a conversation about Mongolia and he said that many visitors have this notion that Mongolia is a magical or fantastical place, whereas in reality the people are really just living their lives. I can appreciate his perspective given his integration to Mongolia, but I have to say as a green American from the city, when I ventured out to the countryside I could not help feeling that I had entered a sacred and magical place. 

There are two Mongolias.  There is the jinkin (a Mongolia word I love and had adopted even before I came here meaning “real” or “authentic”) Mongolia of the hudo, or countryside.  And there is also the Mongolia rushing headlong into modernity, represented fairly singularly by the capital, Ulaanbatar.  We spent most of our time in the countryside, so I will be talking mostly about that, but the contrast of the two is interesting and may mean a lot to the country’s future.

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Mongolia to me was divided into two distinct spheres: Turgen which consisted of mostly my family; and Peace Corps which compromised a few spots across Mongolia, but mostly in the capital UB. On  this trip we were able to experience a little of both. Our arrival to UB was a mixture of the old and the new. There was still the small airport, harassing taxi drivers and the death defying cab ride down a ridiculously pot-holed road. Looking around I noticed new things as well... new buildings, new flashy billboards with western aka “white” models, and a ton more cars on the road. I thought UB traffic was bad before, it pales in comparison to the amount of newly licensed drivers on the road today. Every pedestrian should fear for their life crossing the street in UB. We arrived at George’s and were able to consolidate baggage to just one bag before heading out to the hoodoo (or countryside).

The Town

When Allyson and I first arrived in Turgen soum my first impression and the one that has endured was of the Wild West.  In addition to horses there were motorcycles; the hashas, or yards were separated by wooden fences; and there was a main thoroughfare that was a heavily pocked mud/rock hybrid.  There was a small hospital, two small competing stores selling the same warm sodas, crackers and candy, as well as Vodka.  The town dance hall was closed for the season.   

Because this was the summer season and during the annual Naadam festival, most of the regular townies were away in the even more remote “countryside.” (to the Mongolian people countryside is a very relative term with several layers of remoteness)  This lack of people in an already small town gave it a very ghost town feel.  To add to this giant hawks would circle the town ominously.  On the main road you were much more likely to see a small herd of goats, random dogs or a cow or two than many people.  Instead of the small churches and chapels populating the Western movies of my youth there was an empty Buddhist monastery on the outskirts of town, the outskirts being a five minute walk from our house.

Our hasha and all the others for that matter have an outhouse.  This was was a rickety wooden rectangle built for no one taller than 5’8” and had two planks of wood over a very large pit of unmentionable.

 

 

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As we started landing in Ulangom (the capital of my aimaig) I was very nervous…this escalated when I saw that we were not landing at the airport that I remembered, but some place else. This was a concern as I had tried to call Cergay and Buya in the morning and was not able to get in touch with either of them. Instead, I finally got a hold of Tuya, who I asked to call them for Pearce and I. I had know idea if this in fact happened and so thought out Plan B could be to walk to a hotel…I realized wherever we landed would be a very long walk to the town center as I couldn’t imagine any cabs actually waiting around. Luckily my family was there to pick us up and bring us back to Turgen via a shiny new land cruiser (from her mouth the “best car in town”).

 

Turgen soum was much as I remembered, a dusty little town with less than 100 gers and wooden houses. Although never really bumping, the town was especially quiet due it being summer with everyone away “resting”. This actually was nice as it meant that we could spend most of our time with my family rather than visiting ger after ger like you would normally have to do. Much like UB it had new things sprinkled throughout. There were lights down the main dirt road that apparently only turn on for the big holidays. Everyone had a cellphone and many people had a car or motorcycle (when I lived there, there was one phone if the guy wasn’t drunk and there were about three cars).

There was also a new hospital which Pearce got to visit, a new kindergarten and a new sports center. At the hospital he got to meet the OBGYN and a nurse. His medical consults did not end there though. Throughout the course of our stay he consulted (with me translating) for four patients, one of which had been having seizures since she was a baby. The family gave him copies of her records including brain scans and EEGs and hopes to follow up with a UB neurologist we found via my Peace Corps doctor.

The People

In contrast to the people of the other modern Mongolia, who are developing the characteristics of the stereotypical city folk (angry drivers, snooty store clerks, etc.), the people of countryside Mongolia are among the most generous, open and loving sort I have ever met.  Allyson’s hasha family is a very good prototypical example of this.  They welcomed not only Allyson but myself as well for an entire week.  They fed us, sheltered us and at the end lavished us with very touching gifts.  And they are a very open people in ways that we (Anglos) are not.  

We value privacy and this characteristic comes in striking repose when living with Mongolians. They share their space as they share almost everything else.  When we stayed in town, we stayed in a wooden building with only one room about 15 feet by 35.  The kitchen had a door seldom used.  So when we slept, we slept with Mom, Dad, and the two (and occasionally three) boys. Allyson and I were given the “nice” bed which was actually a couch that turns into a bed, right next to the window. It would be comparable to sleeping in a small full sized bed.  When we were in the countryside and sleeping in two different gers, we slept 10-12 in one big room, half dirt have cover with some plastic flooring and mats. All of us were on the floor. Now I mean not to disparage this way of sleeping or sharing, simply trying to comment on how different and sometimes difficult it was for me. 

Additionally, neighbors come by and are hosted for as long as they please.  This probably happened even more frequently for our Mongolian family because the “white” folks were there.  You see, Mongolians are the ultimate hosts.  People do not knock or call ahead they simply show up and are immediately served up Mongolian fare including milk tea, meats, cheeses and candy.  Because our hasha family had a TV and the national festival was being televised, some neighbors, whom also turned out to be family, stayed until late in the night.  Never before would I have dreamed of getting dressed for bed next to my wife with a strange man sitting on the floor, smoking and drinking about 4 feet next to me with the TV blaring sporting events.

They also share openness of family and completely shatter the notion of the American nuclear family.  Often I had heard the expression “it takes a village to raise a child.”  Being I grew up in a beach and golf resort I have hardly the experience of village childcare.  But then I met Boggy. Boggy, a four-year old, came into the house on his own accord late on the first night and immediately flopped on the floor and started playing games.  My immediate reaction was “who is this child?”  Allyson had never mentioned a Boggy in her stories. Turns out he is a relation to Cergay and they act as parents after a fashion.  Boggy has parents about three hashas down but spends of lot of his time with Cergay and Buya.  He might be the cutest child I had ever met.  It helps he is a good looking Mongolian and dresses like a 40-year old color-blind golf pro, but he also has one of those energetic and happy spirits without fear of foreign strangers.  Within a day he was calling me Aga, meaning big brother and Allyson, Ata, meaning big sister.  He constantly spoke to me in Mongolian despite me never speaking it back and he did not seem to mind.  He even cried when we left only a week later.

Cergay was as kind and generous as Allyson told me she was.  She worked constantly as many Mongolian women do: cooking, cleaning, gathering goats, washing clothes and hosting an endless supply of stoppers-by.  She was especially kind when I got sick as the Mongolian cuisine finally hit me.  Buya is a kind paternal type who was less quiet than I had imagined.  He is funny and engaging but can also be stern.  He is always tinkering on something.  The boys Boya and Masoi had grown up dramatically as boys of there age will often do.  Given they were 17 and 20 they were very kind to also us to share their space.  I could only imagine if my mother had told Drew and I that we had guests coming and we had to sleep in the floor in the same room.

Many of the people of the countryside still live as nomads, which in my limited travel and reading I would imagine is a rare thing.  The families live as herders of animals and they move from season to season from site to site.  Of course the family we stayed with were a town family and had town related jobs: Cergay cooked for the town hospital and Buya is the town’s night guard.  But most of the people in Turgen are related in some way to the countryside.

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Our reunion was everything I could have hoped for. First, they were actually there and second they were just as excited to see me as I was them. The first I saw was my younger brother Masoi who had become a young man (from 6 to 17) in the years I had gone. He was waiting right at the doorway with a big smile plastered to his face and didn’t hesitate to give me a big hug. Cergay was also there waiting to greet us, giving me a traditional deep sniff on each side of my face (like you would kiss cheeks). True to form my older brother, now 20, who was “sleeping” in the back of the car. Really it was just a cover for his really shy personality. He eventually worked up the nerve to say hello and pretty quickly went back to his normal self. It was funny how on the outside the kids looked so different, but still were the same. We reunited with Buya at the hasha. He was waiting outside ready with a big hug and tears in his eyes. He was so wonderful to be with them again and slip back into a lifestyle I had known for two long years. 

We got to chatting and I was amazed how the Mongolian phrases came tumbling out of my mouth. I wasn’t great, but for not having spoken it in so long I couldn’t believe how much I remembered right from the start. We got so involved in catching up that I had to pause and remind myself that Pearce couldn’t understand anything of what was going on and so began translating for him as well- no easy task I promise you.

The Countryside

On our second day we headed out to the countryside for the Naadam Festival.  This meant getting in the family car which is referred to as “Jarinuse” (69) which was a very old model Russian Jeep.  We spent three hours riding through valley that could inspire postcards, over mountains and through huge plains all under a endless blue sky.  We must have stopped every 15 minutes to let the car cool down.  Buya would tinker in the hood and I tried to figure out what was happening to the car and I had to settle on the that perhaps they don’t have or use engine oil and/or coolant.  Regardless, the drive was beautiful and fun.

A video cast from our trip to the Naadam festival.

The Naadam Festival takes place all over the country in various regions and culminates in the capital.  The one for Turgen takes place in their summary valley I’ll call it.  It is a beautiful plain surrounded by mountains and spotted with Gers.  Even more beautiful was a spot about a 30 minute car ride North from the festival where Buya’s older brother lives.  It is also in a small valley divided by the Turgen River (the town is named after the river) and surrounded by mountain ranges.  There are more animals out here and no hashas, meaning no fences.  This is the wild Mongolia and it is as beautiful as you might imagine.

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Our timing could not have worked out better. The day after we arrived we headed out to the countryside to see my town’s Naadam festival. It takes place in their second village site up in the remote mountains. I was super stoked as I never had a chance to see it my first time around so it was a new experience for both of us. I was a bit worried though because I knew we would be going out into the country where Pearce would be at most risk for his allergy from animals. The drive out there was in word, stunning. Everywhere you looked it was beautiful scenery-- mountains, valleys, and blue sky.

 

As Mongolia is a land of few people you could drive four hours literally and not see anyone. Once and awhile you would see the dark outline of a herder on their horse on some distant ridge. I was so happy to be spending such an amazing experience—for that drive alone I would have dragged him all the way to Mongolia. On a side note, it was also a comfortable ride (there were only seven people in the jeep as opposed to the 22 that I had once maxed out on). 

On arriving in the Turgen valley we went immediately to the Naadam festival. As soon as I stepped out of the car it was a deluge of people greeting for me for the rest of the day. It went something like this, “Hi. Did we meet before?” Where I would either actually remember them or totally fake it and say I did. This was especially nerve racking as this event had all of the big Daracks (bosses) of Turgen who I could not remember the names of. We headed over to the archery event, which wasn’t officially going on yet. I talked them into let Pearce shoot an arrow saying that he was totally capable. Let’s just say that wasn’t exactly true. He looked good on the pull back, but the release was more like a drop right at his feet.

As we got there later in the day things wrapped up pretty quickly and we headed to Buya’s younger brother’s house to stay the night. I was thrilled that Pearce was going to experience sleeping in a ger, and one with a ton of other people at that. I thought it would give him a good taste of what I lived with. I am talking about dirt, bugs and tons of milk tea. It also was a great introduction of how Mongolian families interact with one another, whether it was Cergay jumping in to help with the cooking, the 1 year being left alone outside with the animals, or the men sharing snuff bottles. He really got a crash course of Mongolian countryside life and I hope because of it, a new perspective of life.

A video-cast from our first night in the country side.

We woke early, the sun rises at 4am, and watched the goats get milked. In order to do this the Mongolians have to separate the babies from the moms. the moms are then lined up and connect around the neck via rope. Once they are done milking them, the babies are then let loose. It is really fun to see the moms and babies call to each other as they are running towards each other. We headed back to Naadam for the main day of events. Without my knowing Cergay wrote a greeting for the announcer of the event to say welcoming me back to Turgen soum in this long official speech. This prompted Pearce and I to be dragged to their special box to watch the rest of the wrestling activities. It was cool as we got to see close up the wrestlers who won accept the arual they would throw to the gods. Unfortunately it also meant that Pearce got a good* taste of mare’s milk that quickly soured his stomach.

We quickly retreated and rejoined the family to eat hooshur out the back of the jarinus to see if we could make him feel better. At this point is when Ganaa showed up to give us a detailed lesson on the various Naadam events.He shared his pride of country as well as his passion for history. In fact, he pointed out some ruins that you could see off in the distance. They were actually from a Buddhist monastery that existed “a long time ago” and was destroyed, with all the monks killed, by the Russians. Later in the day Cergay and Buya drove us there to see them up close. It was a very cool experience. 

After the conclusion of the horse race at the Naadam Festival we were treated to a ancient and local song by the town elder and official. Apparently it is known by very few people. We were very touched.

That evening we drove to Buya’s older brother’s house in an area where Buya spent his childhood. You could see that Buya was so happy to be back there with his brother. He immediately hopped on a horse and herder the yaks in for the evening. The spot was indeed special, surrounded by mountains, next to a river—we even got a double rainbow. The night was spent again curled up on the floor under multiple blankets (did I mention it was freezing) with ten other people. We woke to another beautiful day surrounded by the sounds of animals and Boggy snoring.

Pearce and I were very sad to hear (on return to UB from Tuya) that Buya’s older brother had died the day we were flying back from Uvs to UB. Cergay and Buya found out after dropping us to the airport and returning home.

Our visit to the hoodoo was a once of a lifetime experience. Our next few days in the soum were a much more realistic picture of my two years in Mongolia. It was hot, there were bugs and there wasn’t a lot to do. (Holly can attest to this from her trip). In addition, the Mongolians can be pretty pushy when it comes to your behavior. They want you to drink milk tea constantly, eat even more than that and pretty much have an opinion of how you spend your time.”You should sleep now, why aren’t you resting, aren’t you comfortable?” It all comes from a really caring place, much like a grandmother, but it can get a bit annoying for American adults who are used to an independent lifestyle. Pearce handled it like a champ though. He was game for trying the new food, jumped into activities whenever he could and basically kept a positive attitude, even despite getting pretty sick his 3rd day in. I couldn’t have been more proud of him. 

Just as we were recovering from being sick we were able to go again out to the countryside, just up into the mountains behind the soum to get wood for the winter. The drive up was just as slow and beautiful as ever, but the weather had finally turned hot and there were a ton of flies swarming us constantly. It was interesting as I had heard Cergay whistling in a rhythmic way and asked her what she was doing. she answered that she was calling the wind to get rid of the bugs. On arrival the boys set to cutting down trees, cergay to making a countryside fire (three large rocks and wood she found) and Pearce and I set off to hike to the top of the Mountain to try to escape the bugs. Although we weren’t able to do that, are effort did provide us with incredible views of Turgen, Sagal soum and even Ulaangoum. On the back side of the mountain there was even a valley still covered in snow! it was a fun day and a great ending for our time in Turgen soum.

The Food

Ah the food.  Mongolians have a traditional diet based on their historical supply.  So basically every meal is some variation on meat, dough, milk (whether it be cow, mare’s, goat or yak), cheese and candy.  Mongolians have a real sweet tooth.  Here is some of the major food and drink I got to have while I was there:

1. Buuz – dumplings of meat (a number of varieties)
   
2. Khuushuur – Mongolian “Hot Pockets”
   
3. Milk tea – boiled milk with a lot of salt and tea bark
   
4. Airag – fermented mare’s milk
   
5. Arul – the pressed and dried cheese
   
6. Tsuivan – homemade flour noodle with meat, carrots, and potato
   
7. Bo – sugarless fried bread that is brought out anytime milk tea is, which is often
   
8. Meat on the bone in a bowl – I think you get the picture

As the ultimate hosts the Mongolians really push the food hard and often.  I wanted to be perceived as a good and grateful guest as well as a “jinkin mongol” so I ate and drank with gusto.  For the first few days this seem to work out just fine and I was on my way to earning the respect of the the entire soum.  But alas my American stomach could take no more and I spent the majority of the last two days of seven either in the outhouse or in the special quarantine camping tent our hasha family set up for me to give me privacy.

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Believe it or not I was excited to eat Mongolian food again, but I had to keep reminding myself that Pearce didn’t necessarily have the palate, or should I say the acquired taste for it, that I did. He got to get a sampling of Mongolia’s greatest hits with only really missing out on my favorite Mongolian food (which I missed out on too) Mongolian yogurt. I did notice that they had started incorporating some new food elements that were not used seven years ago, mostly consisting of jarred pickled vegetables that they tossed into everything. I have to say I was not a fan…I wanted my Mongolian food bland like I remembered. I too was not able to escape the wrath of copious amounts of milk on my stomach and so took a day off from eating and hung out in Pearce’s tent to recover. Luckily I rebounded quickly so there was only one of us not eating the food forced on us.

Final Thoughts

My week in Mongolia was one of the most singular in my life.  The people and the country are wild and strange and beautiful.  It is a country of undiscovered riches.  I am still amazed my wife did two years of the Peace Corps here and after 7-8 years has a good command over a very unique language.  I hope that I can bring back a little of Mongolia with me and learn from the openness and generosity of their spirit.

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The days passed really quickly and soon enough we were saying goodbye to my family. Cergay, Boya and Gana all want to come to the United States. I think the most realistic one of them will be Gana as he is going to study archeology for four years and then hopes to come to the US to get his Phd. Cergay and Boya want to work. Boya may have a chance as well as he want to do tourism and I may be able to work something out for him. Cergay on the other hand just wants to work in some service job to send back money to the family. I am conflicted about it though. I want to help her, but I don’t feel good about positioning her work that way. We shall see. It was good to see them and for Pearce to finally meet them. it meant a lot to me for him to see that part of my life.

UB was a good recuperation period for us. We were both very happy to bath and in hot water at that. It was also fun to hang out with George and his family. They too were ridiculously generous hosts. Not only housing us, but feeding us, letting us wash our clothes, and helping us get around the city! We also got to hang out with their kids who were very sweet and playful. It was a nice change from the typical backpacking environment. George even brought out some old Peace Corps video for us to watch. It was so crazy to look back on our great adventure…I had forgotten how well Angie could wrestle!!! Hopefully one day we can repay George and his family for the generosity! 

Our second to last afternoon we met up with Tuya and her new husband. They brought us to their house in UB, the 9th floor of a soviet style apartment building. Word must have gotten out the Pearce wasn’t eating Mongolia food so they laid out a spread of “American” food including, Pringles-like chips, canned sardines, corked red wine and aloe juice (which actually was very good). We had a good time catching up with her, she is 8 months pregnant with her first baby, and learning more about her husband who is the boss of a company who makes this gorgeous handcrafted gers that we hope to one day buy. They also presented us with beautiful gifts, a Kazak purse for me and a leather wallet for Pearce.

I also took Pearce to some of the old Pearce Corps haunts. He got to visit the Peace Corps office and meet Dr. Paul who coordinated my medivac as well as some of the other PC coordinators. We also hit up the ex delgoor which was the old state department store. We managed to get some major shopping done and stoke up on all the necessary Mongolian goodies. Of course we also managed to cause some major trouble when I marched from floor to floor with a scarf around my neck without paying for it. (you have to play for item by floor. Whoops). 

I am so happy we made Mongolia a part of our Asia tour. For me the whole experience was kind of surreal. As many of you know I have a terrible memory so to be back in Mongolia and experience first hand really brought back a lot of memories of two very important years of my life. More importantly, I was able to share this experience with Pearce, who now really understands what I went through and also now too has a stake in the people and the land. We are already making plans for our summer trips to Mongolia including anyone who is interested in experiencing it for themselves.