Genuine Wild Horses

Freezing:

Early in the morning, before we were even close to ready to wake up, the fire had gone out, and Cullen woke to poke around in it. He discovered that all the coal had burned up, and threw whatever fuel he could find to get some warmth in there. This consisted of a small amount of manure, insufficient to make the ger warm again. We rested a bit longer, but were up and ready to find the wild horses soon enough. Una came in and pulled out the sweet rolls, bread, butter and cheese again.

Breakfast was quick and we were ready to be up and moving. The temperature outside was enough to freeze the standing water with a very fine sheet. The sky was pale and looming with the promise of precipitation. The sun couldn't be seen yet, and we were cold under that thick cover of clouds. Muggie drove us into the national park, with both he and Una looking out for any sign of the wild horses. It wasn't long, and he pulled off the road in front of a nice little creek. The horses were far enough away and blending so well with the background that it was hard for us to see them, but Una saw them and unloaded us onto the cool morning grass.

We walked a bit out and watched them eat and drink for a bit, snapping photos. There were three adult horses and two foals. The babies were colored a bit differently, but they were all blending well with the maze color of the fields of grass. They were beautiful.

We didn't stay too long out in the cold air. We watched them slowly migrate over the edge of the mountain and disappear before leaving the area. It was a rare and beautiful moment. The air was filled with cold moisture and the smell of earthy grass.

When we headed back out of the park, we stopped to go hear a nice talk about the purpose and the creation of the park. The park was created after the extinction of the Przewalski horse in it's natural habitat in the 1960s. It was reintroduced from the animals that had been raised in zoos across the world.

On our way to the cement ger the sky started slipping little white specks on us. The feel of them was just a whisper across my face, and they didn't settle for long anywhere, just long enough to see small wet specks on the cement walkway.

We also watched a video about the park, the common requisite for attending any park. And were introduced to the fact that the park actually contains marmot, an endangered and rare animal of Mongolia that used to be hunted for it's meat. It's illegal now to kill the marmot, but we did get to see at least 2 of their dens while we were out in the park. It surprised me that the marmot was such a large animal. I had always considered that they were rather small and rodent-like, but they are about the size of a beaver.

As we left the two cement ger, the snow actually started falling in earnest. They weren't large flakes, but clumps of white dots, as if a fifth grade science student was working on his solar-system project above us and couldn't quite get the size of pluto right. I couldn't help being excited.

We hopped into the van, and Muggie drove a bit, then stopped. Una turned to Teri and said, "You can drive now." Teri excitedly rushed to the driver's seat, anxious to have a go at the Mongolian roads. The car was a manual transmission, so she killed it the first time, getting used to the clutch. It didn't take her long to get the hang of the roads, then it was my turn. I did pretty good, then Emma had a go, and finally Cullen.

Once we all had our turns, Muggie took back control of the vehicle and the sky began to pour out huge chunks of white fluff. I watched as it settled in the spaces between the yellow-golden grass. It was only really melting on the road, making a muddy, slippery mess. We were glad Muggie was driving again.

Mongolian Staples of life:

When we stopped for lunch, the snow had already stopped. We had a nice meal at a restaurant and then headed back into town. To be sure we didn't miss out on any of the trip, she took us to a small ger in the center of town that served Ariag and horse meat.

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect as far as flavor and odor were concerned. The ger smelled like the fresh warm odor of juicy steak. The ger had the usual iron stove and table in the center. It had couches for guests and small stools gathered around the table which had a nicely decorated bowl. The bowl had a ladle in it made of wood with a horse head sculpted at the handle. The bowl contained airag. We sat around the table and Una ordered one bowl of airag for us to share. Emma had the first drink, which Una responded to with a laugh and, "You just let it touch your lips," then took the bowl and had a nice hearty dreg. Teri was next, and her face spoke of polite disgust. Now it was my turn.

The flavor was very light and salty. It wasn't sweet or dirty tasting like I expected. It was also quite thin. It wasn't at all what my brain had prepared my mouth for. There wasn't any aroma or distinctive flavor. It was quite light, but odd. It had no bite either. The fermentation process leaves the beverage with a lower alcohol content than beer. To try the drink blind, I would probably have guessed that it was room temperature water salted a bit with a touch of something I can't name. I would have never even come close to guessing it was a milk product.

Hanging along the wall were the leather sacks that they produce the airag in by churning it regularly with a wooden dowel.

We were also permitted to taste the horse meat that was causing the whole ger to smell like bbq. The horse meat was just like beef. I have had a steak in the US that tasted exactly like this bit of meat that I swished about in my mouth. If it had been served instead of beef in any dish or at any meal, I am certain it would be difficult to tell it was horse.

Back in the van, we were ready for a good shower and some relaxation. We headed back to Khongor Guest House. We invited Una and Muggie out with us that evening to go see the cultural show and to visit the restaurant/brewery that we had tried to go to the first night in Ulan Bator. Every inch of my body smelled like goat and old dirty human. The steam of the shower only enhanced the odor until the soap began to wash the muck and grime off. It was the cleanest I had felt in a while.

We all had a good scrub-up and a nice sit. We loaded back into the van and headed out to the Culture show.

Mongolian Culture:

The descriptions of the culture show before we arrived had included brief mentions of the Horse headed violin that is the country's pride, and contortionist. I was expecting something similar to the acrobatics show we saw in Beijing. We actually arrived a bit late, missing the first act, and having to wait to file in after it finished. We stood at the entry doors, waiting for the act to complete. We were told to move back, so we all pushed to one side of the red carpet or the other.

The doors burst open, and people in costumes with large animated heads flooded into the hallway. The jingle of their bells and the dance in their steps prepared me for the rare and special treat I was about to experience in the rest of the show.

The music of the show was everything I expected from China. The beautiful mellow tones and strings. The flute and clarinet-like horn instrument. Throat singing was an unexpected and mysterious surprise. I sat in rapt wonder as the man before us created not only deep throaty notes with only his body, but high resonant ones at the same time. It was beautiful. If you haven't heard throat singing, here's a link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxK4pQgVvfg

It is beautiful.

At one point the music was so powerful, it not only created the vision of the Mongolian steeps with all the beautiful wild horses, but it brought tears to my eyes with it's beauty. I don't think I could have appreciated the music or the culture show as much if I hadn't spent two days out in a ger with the beauty and culture of the real Mongolia surrounding me.

Mongolian culture is as deep and beautiful as it's traditions and music that have survived through domination by Russia and China. The stubborn, proud, beautiful Mongolians have maintained superstitions as well as crafts and music through all their trials and labors.

A world where nomadic farmers, throat singers, and contortionists still survive, Cullen and I were treated to a beautiful visit that I will never forget. The magic and mystery that is Mongolia has touched me with a wonder and curiosity that won't soon die.

We had a fine dinner and went back to the guest house, ready for our early morning departure, but so very reluctant to leave our new friends and the mystery of Mongolia.