Here we are in a ger in Mongolia, nestled in a scenery I never could have imagined, in one of those moments that makes me so grateful for the life I lead and answers the question of why I travel....
Notes from the road:
Impromptu sheep market out of trucks on the roadside.
Sun shines on the hills.
Two kids struggle with a loaded wheel-barrow.
Stream meanders, cows graze.
Pile of sheep-skins for sale on a tire.
River winds lazily through the valley, past a plain dotted with trees and herds.
Horses swish their tails, yaks amble. (And we stop to take photos, of course).
Spines of boulders, pine trees, and steeper slopes leading to rocky peaks.
After a plentiful lunch we headed off for a walk, despite the drizzle, pausing in the gazebo on the hill to learn about ger construction traditions.
Ger Fun Facts:
- The size of a ger is based on the number of latticed wall sections it is built with; the larger the number the larger the circumference. (Math teachers wonder, if I know the number of wall sections, can I calculate the diameter?)
- The walls are covered by felt, which is made by compressing wool by dragging it behind a horse!
- Wedding gifts for young couples often include a ger or it’s accessories: furniture, animals, etc.
- These more permanent ger camps are vacations spots for mongolians who want to escape the city for a weekend.
As the rain trailed off, we headed off across the fields, followed by a dog with a lanky, wolf-like way of moving. The wet grass soaked my shoes in seconds, but it felt so great to move that I didn’t really care. Wildflowers bloomed among rhubarb and cow pies as we skirted the hillside and entered the forest; the rain falling yet again and prompting our guide, Niema, to open his yellow umbrella. Soft-needled larches and white birches, purple columbines along the dirt path. Into a clearing as the sun breaks free, only to illuminate the mosquitos looking for a meal. Swatting and twitching, we admired the view back down to camp.
Eager for more, some of us continued on to a nearby monastery. Down the other side of the hill, we emerged from the trees to shining sun and views of the valley stretching away to our left, ger camps dotting the nearby slopes. To our right loomed piles of boulders that we made our way below, still followed by our canine companion.
At the head of valley, the monastery lies halfway up the slope of the mountain, and the path is lined with wise proverbs. We paid a man to let us inside, just as he was locking up, and he cackled, poking at us with his umbrella and saying something that was, at least to him, very amusing.
The inside smelled musty, and every surface was covered with fabric or painted in bright colors – cushions on the benches, pointed tapestries on the pillars, a riotous altar around a golden buddha, who managed to look peaceful in spite of it all.
We were ushered out with the umbrella, and I was still photographing details of the exterior when I realized I was about to get left behind, so I rushed to follow the group down the hill, eyeing the rain coming over the mountain. We couldn’t outrun it, so we trudged along, retracing our steps. By the time we emerged back at the camp, the sky was clearing yet again, and we paused on a grassy hillside, basking in the bright heat of the sun as it dried our clothes.
We made our own dinner that night – dumplings. Niema demonstrated each step, from forming the individual pillows of dough, to rolling them out into a circle, to filling it with minced meat with garlic and onion, to carefully pinching the top closed. There are different ways to form dumplings, involving different pinching techniques. We attempted three of these techniques. We also learned that if you host Lunar New Year celebrations for your family, you will need to make more than 1000 dumplings to make everyone happy.
Our
hard work was devoured in minutes, and we lingered and chatted before heading
to bed, the ger warmed by the wood-stove
in the center, as a group of Mongolians partied a few gers over, their laughter ringing out until the morning hours.
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