Caleb is an English teacher who I know of from mutual friends in UB. Recently, he’s moved to a small town in Bayan Khongor to teach English in a more rural setting. If you’re curious what life outside of UB looks like, I recommend checking out his YouTube channel! He’s only just begun making videos, but I anticipate his channel being very informative as it develops.
Enjoy!
A couple of weekends ago, we headed west of UB with some colleagues from our school to spend the night in the countryside with a herding family. The connection to this family was that the patriarch was the brother of the husband of one of our school’s headmasters, which was great for a couple of reasons. 1) It wasn’t a tourist camp so we had a more authentic experience, and 2) because we were connected, it didn’t feel like we were with total strangers. Our host family was so friendly and hospitable, and we had a great time!
TBH, I’m not exactly sure where we stayed–as is the nature of traveling cross country to an impermanent settlement–but it was somewhere in or around the orange circle on the map. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
What was neat about this particular location was that it held a variety of landscapes. We stayed in gers on the steppe, but we were surrounded by mountains and about a 30 minute walk away from where we stayed was a large stretch of sand, including quite a few dunes. We were told this stretch of sand runs from the Gobi up to Lake Khuvsgul in the north. So in a way, we visited the Gobi. 😉
Camels are one of the five key livestock kept by Mongolian nomads. (The others are horses, cows, sheep, and goats.) The Bactrian camel is native to Central Asia, and they are helpful beasts of burden in addition to providing wool for textiles and milk for dairy products. As you can see in these photos, the camels our host family had were in the process of shedding their thick winter coats and were semi-balding. There were camels that we used for riding, and other camels that were not–mamas and babies. One of the baby camels had been attacked by a wolf recently, so one of its hind legs was wounded. The family had been giving it antibiotics. The morning of our second day, that baby camel was on its feet and nursing. It was certainly favoring the wounded leg, but there’s hope for a full recovery!
Our ride took us a half hour out from camp to the stretch of Gobi sand (then back another half hour). The camels liked crowding each other as we rode, so I have some pretty gnarly bruises above my right ankle from when my camel crushed my leg into the neighboring camel’s metal stirrup, but there was no bolting, biting, or spitting, so I’d count that ride as a win. 😉 On our return walk/ride, one of our colleagues sang us a traditional Mongolian long song. He grew up in the countryside–not the city–so for him, being back where he grew up is always relaxing and nostalgic.
One thing that happens whenever we spend extended time with Mongolians is that we eat so. much. food. Personally, I can’t complain because I love eating, but some foreigners feel overwhelmed by how much food they are offered and don’t know if it’s ok to turn it down. (It is, but be nice about it and try to eat something!)
Our hosts served us a variety of traditional foods, including milk tea, khuushuur, and khorkhog. Khuushuur are fried meat pies. Some of the khuushuur were stuffed with mutton, and others were stuffed with “sheep stomach” (which tasted like minced organ meats, and not just tripe). That picture of Z eating a khuushuur in the top left? Sheep stomach! He was also interested in watching the frying process. The top right photo shows how the khorkhog was prepared. One sheep was butchered and the meat and bones were layered with minced onion, hot rocks from the stove, salt, potatoes, and carrots in a giant metal bowl with water on the bottom. The whole thing was covered and cooked for about an hour, turning into the most delectable meal.
In the morning, we had leftover mutton from the khorkhog, boortsog, more milk tea, coffee (!), rice porridge, and fry bread. Sadly, I wasn’t in the ger when they made the dough for the fry bread, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to recreate it at home, but I am definitely interested in trying. Delicious delicious food!
When we first got to where we stayed over the weekend, Z was fairly shy, but he warmed up and ended up quite sad when we left. He was particularly enamored with the kids and lambs that stayed around the gers, and very much enjoyed chasing them. I don’t think they minded much, but I did worry that their mothers would be less than thrilled.
I don’t like to be the type of mother who hovers over her children, but there were a number of concerns that I had to balance while we were out of our normal. Z is not around animals enough here in UB to know that some animals are safe and some are not, so I had to corral him away from some of the livestock–like the overprotective camel mama whose baby had been attacked. She was a mama on a mission. I was also worried that Z would wander into the outhouse, which wasn’t deep, but also had no door on it and was exposed on one side and the top to the elements. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on fishing my toddler out of a toilet. 😉
What I pictured happening to me.
Speaking of toilets, I needed to use it during the night. I had somewhat seriously told Eric as we got ready for bed that if I needed to pee before daybreak, I would just pee in one of the unused diapers we had brought along rather than go outside at night because of the wolves. (Ok, maybe just wolf–singular–but apex predator I am not.) Around 3:30am, well, I needed to go, and Eric (who was also awake) convinced me that I shouldn’t use a diaper for my bathroom break. I was still hesitant to use the outhouse–WOLVES, people!–but I decided maybe I could just pee behind the ger. I didn’t want to bring my phone for its flashlight because it’s hard enough to pee outside without peeing all over yourself in a squat without also having to juggle a light source. Anyway, once outside, I realized the moon was bright enough to cast shadows so I opted to use the outhouse. I know, I know. All that fuss for nothing. I was thankful for not needing a flashlight for that trip though because I have a record of losing items down outhouses. (RIP first Fitbit.) For the record, I squatted facing out so that if a wolf decided to take me down while in the outhouse, I’d at least see it coming and know my fate. My tombstone would have read: Here lies Bethany. Dead from outhouse wolves.
We are just so flippin’ blessed to have the relationships that we do with Mongolians. Over the years, we’ve worked alongside educators, administrators, students, business folk, and more. Our children have been loved by all. We’ve written numerous recommendation letters, proofread so many essays and applications, and coached and encouraged and been coached and encouraged in return. Mongolian doctors have delivered both of our babies and been invested in their growth. Whenever folks ask me what my favorite part of living in Mongolia is, I tell them it’s the people, and this weekend reminded me again as to why.
PS. I had the bulk of this post written the night we came back from the countryside, but then things got really crazy so I only just finished wrapping it up.
I love finding these kinds of short videos online because I feel like they give our readers a better sense of Mongolia’s heritage. Yes, there are still traditional Mongolian nomads of different ethnic backgrounds (the family featured here is Kazakh from western Mongolia), although I would argue more of Mongolia’s population is urban than rural at this point.
This short film highlights eagle hunting training, camel racing training, and other activities. The scenes inside the family ger also show traditional Kazakh embroidered wall hangings, and at 1:03, you can see a piece of cloth covered in different medals hanging from the wall. Medals are awarded for a number of reasons in Mongolia: for good work (a carry over from socialism), for the amount of children you have, for winning competitions. As the medals are blurry in the shot, there’s no way that I could even begin to attempt to tell you what these specific ones are for, but I would wager that this family is proud of these medals and the stories that they tell.
Enjoy!
If you live in one of the ger districts or more on the outskirts of the city, you are more likely to live in an individual home, but by and large, housing in UB consists of apartments. New high rise apartment buildings go up all the time, to the extent that there are probably more apartments than possible residents. In this post, I’d like to
High rise apartment building to the right. Multistory school building on the left. National park in the background.
highlight some of the similarities and differences (that I’ve noticed from personal experience) in apartment living in UB.
Before we moved to Mongolia, I pictured us living in a tiny, drafty, gloomy Soviet-era apartment. Rest assured these apartments exist in UB, but there are all kinds of different places to live at widely different price points, which brings me to the first few factoids.
There are a few other quirks to apartment living here. Of course, as in any apartment, you will hear your neighbors. Also, like everywhere in the world, some neighbors are friendly, some are standoffish, and others are just rude. Meh. That’s life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Here are some of the quirkiest things that we’ve experienced.
You might find garbage in the stairwell. Some buildings have trash chutes–our current one does!–and those are handy. Otherwise, there are likely dumpsters located in your complex, which may or may not be conveniently located. Even so, you still might find garbage in the stairwell, which is left with the assumption that the cleaning lady will pick it up for you. I’ve done this once or twice and received a passive aggressive note *in English* as a result so those were the only times I did. You’ll note in the picture to the right that there is a bag of garbage right below the trash chute. The bag can clearly fit in the chute, so I’m not sure why it wasn’t tossed. It was full of old meat bones so maybe that has something to do with it? I literally have no idea. Again: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Taken from our kitchen window, you can see an empty lot between our complex and the next. Note the ger! There are a couple in the empty spaces around where we live, but they are not the typical housing situation in central UB.
I, for one, think that there are plenty of advantages to living in apartments in UB–or living in UB in general. Grocery stores of all sizes abound throughout and around apartment complexes, which makes shopping relatively easy if you don’t have a vehicle and need to make more frequent grocery trips. (Read this post for a comparison of grocery shopping between here and the US.) There are a number of small businesses that pop up in residential areas as well–banks, mobile phone stores, dry cleaners, tailors, etc. This means that you can get a lot of your errands accomplished locally.
I’m sure I’m forgetting interesting facts and anecdotes at this point, but this post is getting quite long so I ought to wrap it up. For those of you who live or have lived in UB, what would you add? Do you agree or disagree with my assessment? Let us know in the comments!
**HUGE apology for not updating the blog in seven months. SEVEN. Holy cow.**
One of the best food-related reasons to love Mongolia is its delicious potatoes. I don’t know what it is about them that makes them so darn tasty, but they are the bomb. They are typically on the small side (at least per American expectations), and the flesh of the potato (is that the right word?) is a deep yellow. The closest American equivalent I can think of is Yukon Golds, but even those aren’t as divine as Mongolian taters. I’ve checked before buying potatoes to make sure that I’m getting Mongolian ones rather than Chinese ones. They’re that yummy that I’m willing to embarrass myself with my terrible language skills to make sure I get the good stuff. #worthit
As I write this love letter to Mongol tubers, let me add that po-tay-toes are included in a wide variety of Mongolian dishes from soups to noodle dishes to salads. I love a good potato salad (my maternal grandmother’s recipe is my favorite in the US), and Mongolian potato salad does not disappoint. It’s called niislel salat, or capital salad, here, but apparently it is also common in Russia (and other former USSR nations) and known there as Olivier salad. That said, there is a basic approach to making the salad, but I find that a lot of folks have their own variations–as is the case with potato salad globally.
My attempt!
I attempted this salad in the US this summer while staying at my sister and brother-in-law’s place, and they both approved so I think it’s safe to say that a lot of Americans would find this tasty as well. I’ll give a list of ingredients and directions below on making the salad, as well as possible substitutions.
Ingredients
Directions
Like I said, there are a wide variety of ways to make this salad, so if you don’t have one of the vegetables or you’re not a fan of pickles or cucumbers, you can probably make it without and still get the gist of the typical dish. Most restaurants have a form of this salad available, especially smaller cafes or Mongolian fast food joints. It shows up during major holidays and here and there in between the big festivals. I always get excited to see it on the menu or on someone’s table.
Let me know if you’ve had this salad before or if you try it out from this recipe! Mongolian friends (and strangers), let me know if I’ve botched the recipe!
Cheers,
Another expat teacher shared this video on FB, and I thought it would be fun to share here. The only dish that we haven’t had is boodog, although it’s very similar to khorkhog (both are mentioned in the video). Enjoy!
PS. At some point, we’ll have to upload pictures of our travels during the break, but that might be another few days!
