Toerke

There’s no end to it. One valley even bigger than the next. A mountain range that will not get nearer. Hills rolling eternally. This country is huge. Or rather, this tiny part of the country is huge. We were spoiled with asphalt roads until Erdenet. After that it’s smooth steppe roads, crusty earth roads, bonebreaking bumpy roads, no roads. We are no longer being spoiled. Crossing a pass, we often see an oovoo, a pile of stones or wood, draped with blue silk scarves surrounded by all kind of sacrifices. They can be crutches – testimony of an accident in the past – empty Wodka bottles, money or incense. You walk around the oovoo three times clockwise and contine your journey blessed.

Mongolia is the country with the most livestock per capita (14). It’s hard not to notice that. We pass herds of sheep, goats, horses, cows and yaks everywhere. There are also birds everywhere, especially kites (milvus migrans) and crows. The white spots scattered here and there like snowflakes on a green carpet are the gers, the nomad dwellings. Visiting a nomad family, you are welcomed with a bowl of milk tea (suutei tsai), fermented mare’s milk (airag) or yoghurt. A bowl of dried curd (aaruul) is passed around too. That one I prefer to skip. It smells of vomit and my throat protests trying to chew this delicatesse. The bowel protest soon follows.

The countryside and the life around the ger seems idyllic and peaceful. The small province towns, however, leave a grey and sorrow impression. Crumbling cement, potholes everywhere, mounts of rubbish, delapidated factories. Not quite a picture of beauty. Mongolia is also biker country. A lot of people have, next to the saddled horse, a Russian motorcycle by the ger – iron horse for the transport of water and other goods. Modern times have entered the countryside. Proof are the satellite dishes, the solar panels. The nomadic life is hard, especially in winter when temperatures drop to -45 Celcius. However, there’s always time for some good old leisure.

What an adventure crossing this country by jeep! An old-style ferry brings us across the Selenge River. In Shine-Ider we are witness to the slaughtering of a horse (not for sensitive or vegetarian readers). The Amarbayasgalant monastery restored after its destruction during the ’30s purges; the horseride in Mongolian saddle; a snowstorm on a mountain pass; the tree with 100 branches that tells you in your dream where you’ll find what you’ve lost. The legends, the mystic, the hospitality, the curious eyes of a child. You gotta love this place!

On special request: more woolly creatures