Mongolian pride



On the 29th of July we stayed at yet another family. We were welcomed into their main ger with milk tea and aaruul. While we sat there, resting from the long ride we had, the head of the family continued eating his lunch. We'd had a lot of mutton the past few days, but I couldn't seem to get used to the taste or the smell. A Mongolian man told me that it was the "number one meat" for them and the last family we stayed at was so happy for us to be there that they welcomed us with a freshly slaughtered goat's head. The plate in this family's ger didn't contain a head, but merely organs; grey, dry pieces of brain, spongy lungs and a heart that stopped beating a while ago. The head of the family asked if we wanted a piece, but it was really about that time to say no. I have eaten chicken blood, chicken toes, snake, dog saté, insect and many other things, but Mongolian mutton is really something else. The smell of it was in the beds, in the clothes, on the ground, in the air and I even got the feeling that I started smelling like it after not being able to shower for so long. And it was only going to get worse that evening.

Because we were staying at a family that was known for their well-trained camels. They had won multiple races at prestigious events and I think that outside of our ger there were at least fifty of them just walking around unleashed. It was the first time for me riding a camel and they were much bigger than I expected. The first time getting up was scary, because sitting in the middle I could only hold on to it's humps, but after it was pretty comfortable. We walked around and just as I started to trust the camels, they started playing. They'd bump into each other or walk over little hills - so that you'd get the rollercoaster-effect - or they would turn their heads to lick your hands. And then, because we weren't dirty enough already, they started sneezing on us. I was lucky, because mine would only sneeze on other people, so I think I had the most fun of all of us. 

Just before sunset we went to see the sand dunes and even though I never got to the top, the view was lovely. The wind was very strong and every step you'd take to go up, would bring you half a step down. The desert was hot - it was at around 40 degrees celsius - and we were all sweating. It felt like quicksand and it was one of the hardest things my father had ever done he said, so when we came back to our ger we fell asleep in a second.

We woke up early the next day, because we were lucky enough to be able to attend the Naadam Festival, which was held two weeks later than normal, because it was also the anniversary of the city. It's the pride of every city and it was sort of a small Olympics for traditional Mongolian sports. There were horse races, wrestlers, archers, dancers, musicians and there was a sport called shagai, which is played by flicking sheep knucklebones with your bare fingers. Everyone was wearing their traditional costume and people were very busy exchanging their snuff, which is kept in a bottle made out of certain rocks, that you're supposed to sniff when you are someone's friend. It's one of the most valuable things for Mongolians to have and I've been told that one bottle could cost you up to $15.000. I too sniffed some snuff and there's many rules to it before you can actually snuff it. I can't precisely recall them, but it meant holding the bottle with a certain hand, your other hand placed on the elbow, lifting the top and putting it back on without closing the bottle, and so on. There are many customs in Mongolia and they are really proud of their country, their history and their ancestors. They expect you to respect their customs, but respect you for not knowing about them, as long as you wish to learn. Nationalism in a friendly way; being proud of who you are and where you came from, without judging people that come from another place. 

And that night I woke up from the smell of mutton and camel in the ger. I felt dirty, I wanted to shower and for a second I wished to be home, where I could sleep in a soft bed and smell the scent of clean bedding, eat whatever I wish to eat and put on some fresh clothes. But then I look to the ceiling, which has a hole in it, for us to see the stars. The door is left open and I can hear the sounds of the camels guarding our ger and the wind playing with the sand of the desert and I realize that if I wish to visit a country that has not yet been customized to Western standards, I will have to learn about and adjust to the customs and lifestyle of Mongolia. And though we might not fully agree on the number one meat and the use of showering, we will both agree that there are many reasons for Mongolians to be proud of the country they come from.