Cobra's on horseback.
Ger Visit ......................................................Knuckle Bone Games................. Horse Camp.............
It took about an hour and a half to get to the ger camp, one hour through mad traffic in the city and one hour of rough highway and country road driving. You’ve heard people say that all big cities look alike? Not Ulaan Baator! There are gers beside apartment blocks and office towers. There are apartment blocks and commercial buildings in all stages of construction. Many of the construction sites were abandoned by the Russians when they pulled out in the late 1980’s and either, except for the main street “Peace Avenue” which is being re-surfaced now, part of the reason for the massive traffic jams everywhere. About 1/3 of the cars are right hand drive from Japan or Korea, which might explain why no one seems too worried about what side of the road or what lane they are traveling in. Drivers all toot very politely when they are about to cut someone off, pass a truck going uphill on a blind corner or hit a pedestrian.
We turned off the highway at the statue of Chingus Kahn (Gengis is not the right pronunciation, you must soften that hard g sound!). It’s a giant of a thing, a mighty statement of national pride. He’s facing east to China, all set to go and take the empire back. Across a green hills that look like southern Alberta or Montana to the Chingus Ger camp on the banks of the Took River. On the way out our driver was taking the van across dirt roads as if he were in an off-road rally. John was in the front seat enjoying every bone-jolting moment of it.
At the camp we were met by Baagii - the English translator, waiter, archery and knuckle bones teacher and all round interpreter of Mongolian life. He took us to our Ger and helped us get settled, then invited us to accompany him and the only other guests, three young women from Spain, to visit a traditional family.
Those visits are always a bit awkward, but we learned that the ger they live in is the same layout as our camping ger, most of the gers dotted around the valley are homes for the nomadic people who live there for four months of the year during grazing season. They move four times a year with their herds of sheep, goats and horses. The children stay in a dormitory in a village when school is in session. They have a solar panel and a wind generator for electricity and a satellite dish for TV. They really do drink fermented mare’s milk, I tried it. Once. Baagii says it’s “better than beer” but I think it’s a matter for debate.
Dinner was a traditional Mongolian barbeque. Put 1.5 liters of water in a big metal jug. Add salt, pepper, “Russian spice” and a bay leaf. Layer hot rocks and chunks of lamb on top. Finish with chunks of carrot and potato. Seal with a towel and stick the lid on. Put it on the fire for two hours. While we were waiting for the meat to cook Baagii got out the bow and arrows and taught us all how to shoot! John did pretty well, Nelson came closest to the target and Baagii actually hit it! That’s fair. The meal was really good, we shared it and two bottles of Spanish wine with the other guests. John asked Baagii if Mongolians usually use knives and forks (which were on the table) or chopsticks. Baagii said that Mongolians don’t usually bother with either - it’s use your hands and go for it!
Next morning was time to play at being Mongol warriors on horseback. Three Cobras, three nervous Spanish women and “The Horseman”. He did not speak English, except for “camera” - he’s the reason we have pictures of all three of us together. We rode for three hours before lunch, out to the place where the Horseman’s family keep and train horses. We saw the mares being milked. When he wasn’t watching us to make sure we were keeping our balance and our places in line the Horseman was text messaging on his cell phone or singing along with tunes on his mp3 player. He was great fun.
At lunch we learned to make Mongolian dumplings, and then we rode for three more hours. The dumplings are like perogies, but filled with ground meat (we had beef) and made in three sizes: small, to be steamed or fried, medium to be steamed, and large to be deep fried. We had the small and medium for lunch and the large for supper. Fortunately we did not have to make them all ourselves because at the rate we were going we’d still be there.
The Spanish women skipped the afternoon ride, but we only had one day there, so we stayed the course, riding over the steppes and along the river. We had “Russian saddles” which apparently are more comfortable than Mongolian saddles, but, let’s be honest, there’s no such thing as a comfortable saddle! By the end of the day John and I were pretty stiff and tired.
Nelson was stiff too, but that’s because at the moment he was looking up at the Mighty Silver Chingus a dog in a nearby ger started barking, his horse leapt one way and Nelson went the other, banging his ribs and getting a good bruise on his leg from the camera in his pocket. That spooked John’s horse when it jumped the girth holding its saddle on snapped and John landed on the ground too. Great excitement! The Horseman got us all organized again and took us up to the office at the base of the statue, where we went in to see what was on offer. A sweet looking girl stuck here head out of the office window and said in English, with a big smile on her face,: “What are you doing falling off horses? I saw you!” There’s no such thing as a private humiliation, it seems the population of the whole valley was enjoying the story within five minutes.
It turned out that people can climb up the inside of the great Chingus, but the power had been out all day and she said it was “not very comfortable”. We decided it was enough to admire Chingus from the outside and then rode back to the Ger Camp for showers (the generator had been on long enough to heat the water), supper and sleep.
It took about an hour and a half to get to the ger camp, one hour through mad traffic in the city and one hour of rough highway and country road driving. You’ve heard people say that all big cities look alike? Not Ulaan Baator! There are gers beside apartment blocks and office towers. There are apartment blocks and commercial buildings in all stages of construction. Many of the construction sites were abandoned by the Russians when they pulled out in the late 1980’s and either, except for the main street “Peace Avenue” which is being re-surfaced now, part of the reason for the massive traffic jams everywhere. About 1/3 of the cars are right hand drive from Japan or Korea, which might explain why no one seems too worried about what side of the road or what lane they are traveling in. Drivers all toot very politely when they are about to cut someone off, pass a truck going uphill on a blind corner or hit a pedestrian.We turned off the highway at the statue of Chingus Kahn (Gengis is not the right pronunciation, you must soften that hard g sound!). It’s a giant of a thing, a mighty statement of national pride. He’s facing east to China, all set to go and take the empire back. Across a green hills that look like southern Alberta or Montana to the Chingus Ger camp on the banks of the Took River. On the way out our driver was taking the van across dirt roads as if he were in an off-road rally. John was in the front seat enjoying every bone-jolting moment of it.
At the camp we were met by Baagii - the English translator, waiter, archery and knuckle bones teacher and all round interpreter of Mongolian life. He took us to our Ger and helped us get settled, then invited us to accompany him and the only other guests, three young women from Spain, to visit a traditional family.
Those visits are always a bit awkward, but we learned that the ger they live in is the same layout as our camping ger, most of the gers dotted around the valley are homes for the nomadic people who live there for four months of the year during grazing season. They move four times a year with their herds of sheep, goats and horses. The children stay in a dormitory in a village when school is in session. They have a solar panel and a wind generator for electricity and a satellite dish for TV. They really do drink fermented mare’s milk, I tried it. Once. Baagii says it’s “better than beer” but I think it’s a matter for debate.
Dinner was a traditional Mongolian barbeque. Put 1.5 liters of water in a big metal jug. Add salt, pepper, “Russian spice” and a bay leaf. Layer hot rocks and chunks of lamb on top. Finish with chunks of carrot and potato. Seal with a towel and stick the lid on. Put it on the fire for two hours. While we were waiting for the meat to cook Baagii got out the bow and arrows and taught us all how to shoot! John did pretty well, Nelson came closest to the target and Baagii actually hit it! That’s fair. The meal was really good, we shared it and two bottles of Spanish wine with the other guests. John asked Baagii if Mongolians usually use knives and forks (which were on the table) or chopsticks. Baagii said that Mongolians don’t usually bother with either - it’s use your hands and go for it!
Next morning was time to play at being Mongol warriors on horseback. Three Cobras, three nervous Spanish women and “The Horseman”. He did not speak English, except for “camera” - he’s the reason we have pictures of all three of us together. We rode for three hours before lunch, out to the place where the Horseman’s family keep and train horses. We saw the mares being milked. When he wasn’t watching us to make sure we were keeping our balance and our places in line the Horseman was text messaging on his cell phone or singing along with tunes on his mp3 player. He was great fun.
At lunch we learned to make Mongolian dumplings, and then we rode for three more hours. The dumplings are like perogies, but filled with ground meat (we had beef) and made in three sizes: small, to be steamed or fried, medium to be steamed, and large to be deep fried. We had the small and medium for lunch and the large for supper. Fortunately we did not have to make them all ourselves because at the rate we were going we’d still be there.
The Spanish women skipped the afternoon ride, but we only had one day there, so we stayed the course, riding over the steppes and along the river. We had “Russian saddles” which apparently are more comfortable than Mongolian saddles, but, let’s be honest, there’s no such thing as a comfortable saddle! By the end of the day John and I were pretty stiff and tired.
Nelson was stiff too, but that’s because at the moment he was looking up at the Mighty Silver Chingus a dog in a nearby ger started barking, his horse leapt one way and Nelson went the other, banging his ribs and getting a good bruise on his leg from the camera in his pocket. That spooked John’s horse when it jumped the girth holding its saddle on snapped and John landed on the ground too. Great excitement! The Horseman got us all organized again and took us up to the office at the base of the statue, where we went in to see what was on offer. A sweet looking girl stuck here head out of the office window and said in English, with a big smile on her face,: “What are you doing falling off horses? I saw you!” There’s no such thing as a private humiliation, it seems the population of the whole valley was enjoying the story within five minutes.
It turned out that people can climb up the inside of the great Chingus, but the power had been out all day and she said it was “not very comfortable”. We decided it was enough to admire Chingus from the outside and then rode back to the Ger Camp for showers (the generator had been on long enough to heat the water), supper and sleep.
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