Last Ger Standing

So last fall I wrote about revisiting Tsenkher Hot Spring with Engrish and Five, and how it was one of those things I wanted to do again before I left.  I imagined going on several more ger camps before my last flight out, but after our dogsledding weekend it never happened.  Once we started working on the musical, it seemed like time sped up, and wrecked me in all sorts of ways.

I would have liked to camp one last time with Engrish and Five, but my actual last ger camp, as it turned out, was a pretty kickass substitute.  One of my colleagues decided that the end-of-school activities for our middle schoolers should be camping trips, and since this was a thing, I volunteered pretty quickly to accompany my nerds out to Gun Galuut, a nature preserve that I hadn't yet visited...mostly because I'm not a fan of "tenting" and the only ger camp - Steppe Nomads - is pretty pricey.  Fortunately, the previously mentioned colleague has a Mongolian wife whose family runs it, so they gave us a great price.

So I was going to a new place with a great group of kids, and my fellow chaperones were four of my favorite colleagues (albeit obvs neither Five nor Engrish, who actually would have come if she weren't so busy).  So far, it was a pretty sweet set-up.  Bonus: I got to see the Chinggis Colossus one last time along the way.

Now, lest you are a new reader, or else have forgotten exactly what camping in the wilds of Mongolia is like, here's a little breakdown: you drive way the hell out into the middle of nowhere, on roads that back home we would optimistically classify as "B-Grade", to stay in a tent made of felt, and possibly burn dried animal poop for warmth in the cold, cold night.   This time we had wood fires, but that didn't keep me from telling the kids on the way out that their first task would be to collect dung for their fire for the night, and suggest that if they didn't want to touch it, they could turn a plastic bag inside out.  LOL

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: whoever said getting there was half the fun ought to be dragged out into the street and shot.  The Voice and I were in the bus with most of the boys,  and they were pretty quiet.  The chaperones in the bus with most of the girls, on the other hand...they suffered.  And then we went off-roading in school buses - always a fun time, especially when your intended route takes you under train tracks, but the clearance isn't high enough for a school bus.  We had to try three underpasses before we were able to break on through to the other side.  Luckily nobody got carsick, and we'd stopped for snacks and the bathroom along the way.  In the end, our supposedly 2-hour ride ended up being over 4, but we got there in the end.

Once we got the kids assigned to their gers and the buses unpacked, we went on a hike.  And by hike, I mean a really long walk.  I counted myself fortunate to be with the kids who were done pretty quickly, and when they wanted to stop and chill and play in the water, I was happy to oblige.  One of my hardcore nerds decided to try "fishing" by stabbing at minnows with the stick he'd been carrying around.  (Apparently reading Hatchet in fifth grade had a huge impact, because they could tell me all about it).  Another of my nerds joined him, and their third technique - using a handkerchief for a net - was a success!  They were disappointed that I wouldn't actually let them eat their catch, but hey, responsible-type adult person here.

The hike back to the camp took about twice as long.  Possibly because at one point I turned around and realized that the other two chaperones and I were together with a big group, and there were quite a few stragglers spread out across the distance, so I went back to fish shoes out of the mud and tell them that no, they could not walk back to camp in their muddy socks while carrying their shoes.

We had some down time before dinner, and afterwards organized a game of capture the flag.  The space really wasn't big enough, but we didn't want to annoy the other guests and had to give the kids at least some cover to work with.  Since they didn't grow up with fairly hardcore Mutrux relatives who demanded perfection in their survivalist games, the kids didn't really care - they got to run around and chase each other, so they were happy.

We were pretty disappointed, though, that we couldn't have a campfire.  It was too windy, and a lack of rain meant that we were liable to burn down the steppe if we tried.  Instead, the camp let us use the...actually, I have no idea what to call it.  Common room?  An enclosed space where we could make a little noise without bothering others and being exposed to the elements.  Sadly, there was no fire, so the s'mores ingredients I brought didn't get used, but The Voice had an awesome game called Musical Charades that he led the kids in, where you speak/sing/act as many songs or musicians as you can in a minute.  My ghost stories had to wait for the ride back, and if it was not as satisfying as telling them around the fire, at least by the time "Tailybones" was giving them nightmares they were somebody else's problem.

I brought my flute and The Voice brought his morin khuur, so we were able to finish the night with some music, and since both of us are decent musicians...

Okay, fine.  I'm a decent musician who can play by ear.  He is a highly trained professional who basically kicks ass on whatever instrument he picks up.  I could take him in a dance off or pictionary, though...

Anyways, between the two of us we were able to take requests, and it was a nice way to end the night.  In fact, it put me in such a restful mood that two hours later I slept through my alarm and missed my turn on watch.  Oops. After breakfast the next day we had just enough time for a safari before we had to get ready to go back to UB.  A change in the students on each bus meant that mine was a little livelier, but since I got the group that wanted to tell ghost stories and talk nerdy, I didn't really mind.  When we got back to the school, I found it to be a disappointment more than anything, because it meant that everything was over, and these kids that I absolutely loved weren't mine much longer.  But I couldn't be sad for too long - I was in the middle of finally interviewing with a school I actually wanted to work for, and I had the last interview the next morning.  More on that later.

The Beginner's Guide to Ger Camp

I am attempting to be all sorts of adult tonight, and let me tell you, it is exhausting.  I swept, swiffed, mopped, washed dishes, and now it is time for me to catch up the blog, when all I want is to see what happens next in Bleach (in part so I can finally move on to Naruto).  Check out how grown up I am.

Anyways.  Last weekend was Time Lady's birthday.  After more than a year she'd still never been ger camping, so Engrish and I took it upon ourselves to rectify the situation with a trip to Terelj.

A few days before, Time Lady asked me, "What do you bring on a ger camp?" and it made me realize that although I've done a fair bit of ger camping in the last two years, I've never written the definitive guide to it.  Although it's a little late at this point, I'd like to dedicate this guide to her for her birthday (because who needs expensive geek gifts when your foul-mouthed blogging friend dedicates a post to you?!?)

What is a ger?  A ger is a felt hut (the same thing as a yurt), in which nomadic families live.  Camps of them have become a popular option for tourists both foreign and domestic in Mongolia, as they allow you to get out into the countryside and in touch with tradition.  Most gers have 3-4 beds (although there are bigger and smaller ones) and are heated by a stove that can burn wood, coal, or - if necessary - even dung.  There will also be a little table and a few other pieces of furniture.

What do you bring to a ger camp?  Time Lady asked about bedding and I told her that it wasn't necessary.  Then I realized I was thinking of sheets, blankets, and pillows, which aren't necessarily warm enough for cold Mongolian nights, so I had to chase her down and tell her that Engrish and I normally bring sleeping bags.  We always bring food - typically a sausage fest with cheese, bread, and crackers - although you can get more complex (Five made nachos once, and in Dariganga I made ger chili) and most ger camps have a restaurant, so you won't starve.  Games are a must, but my personal favorite thing to bring on a ger camp is FIRE!
This answer prompted some teasing from my students, but hell, building the fire is my favorite part of ger camping (not just because of the sound!), and I was especially proud of the new firestarters I made with cotton facial circles and wax.  I can't stress enough how important it is to bring someone who likes to play with fire.  Ger camps are supposed to send someone in the night to keep your fire going, but it never seems to work out that way, and I've developed a touch of pyromania to combat the cold of early mornings in the countryside.

What do you DO at ger camp?  I've mentioned before that Mongolia is a place to come for beautiful, rugged nature and the tradition of ger camping reflects that.  When you go, you have the chance to get OUT of the city, breathe some fresh air, marvel at the blue of the skies, and leave everything behind.  We usually bring books and some games - Guillotine being one of my favorites (you need more people for Cards Against Humanity or Apples to Apples).  I brought my sketchbook this time and some watercolor pencils.  We spent Saturday afternoon taking a long, Jane Austen walk along the river, and the late afternoon reading.  If you're more active you'd probably enjoy bringing a frisbee or a ball and glove, and a lot of ger camps seem to have basketball hoops.  If you can't live without your phone, ger camp might not be for you.  We went to UB2 last weekend, which had excellent reception (Engrish is a rock star and kept getting important calls while we were out walking) and electricity, not to mention the heated floors and a TV...we went really easy on Time Lady...but we've also stayed in ones where you had to walk 10 minutes up a mountain to get even the slightest service.  Besides, that's not really what it's about, is it?

Expect the Unexpected:
I think the most crucial thing you can do to enjoy a ger camp is be prepared.  The camp may not have water, so bring a few bottles or a good filtration system, as well as some wet wipes.  It may not have toilets, with or without running water so bring toilet paper and mentally prepare yourself to pop a squat.  If you know ahead of time that you are putting yourself in a situation that is supposed to be somewhat rough by nature and embrace that, you'll have a much better time.  Especially if you remind yourself that it's MUCH less rough than actual camping (or tenting, if you insist on calling it that like Engrish).

Happy Birthday, Time Lady!  Thanks for giving us an excuse to have such a great weekend!

The World's Most Remote Bronies

Part of what caught my imagination when it came to this trip was a project about remote tribes called "Before They Pass Away."  I'd already been to Bayan-Olgii to see the Kazakh eagle hunters and was hoping to make this trip when I stumbled on Jimmy Nelson's work.  The idea of seeing a culture that might disappear gave me extra desire to make it happen - although actually making it happen was easier said than done.

I was truly hoping to make the trip through the Tsataan Community Visitor's Center.  I wanted to do things the right way, and benefit the people as much as I can.  However, the price tags the tour companies were quoting me seemed ridiculous - one woman said the trip would cost $2500, which is more than I spent on the Tibet part of last summer's adventures.  Luckily for me Engrish has mad connections, and one of them had a Tsataan coworker with whom she'd traveled to the taiga before.  Together they managed to organize things for me.  I did contact the TCVC, both through email and phone, about helping me to organize the actual trek out to the camp, but I never heard back from them.  Maybe it's my lack of Mongolian; I don't know.  I stopped in the Visitor's Center while I was wandering in Tsaagan-Nuur, and made a donation.  Since the total cost of the entire trip (including my flights, the donation, and the non-Tsataan portion) was only a little more than a fifth of that original quote, it probably wasn't enough.  But I did try.

When I got into Tsaagan-Nuur my contact, Darima, gave me the traditional bowl of milk tea and showed me a place to rest before heading out to the camp.  I was a little startled that we'd be leaving for the camp that day.  I thought I had an eight-hour horse trip ahead of me, but in fact I stayed with a family that was a little more than an hour by jeep away from Tsaagan-Nuur.  In spite of my nap, I fell asleep on the ride there, and was only awakened just before getting there by Darima tapping me on the shoulder and directing my attention to the reindeer herd, chilling out on the ice.  Yes, there was still ice on the river at the end of June.  This is Mongolia, bitches.

After another obligatory bowl of tea (this one made with reindeer milk), I was showed to the "hotel," a spare urtz (teepee)...the very one that the reindeer is poking its head into.  I was happy enough with my new digs, but later they decided to move me in with the family, I believe because they thought I would get cold, since the stove in the urtz-buudal wasn't set up.  Or maybe it was because it also served as the garage for their motorcycle.  Whatever the case, sharing space with others isn't always my favorite thing, especially when we don't have a common language between us - it's a little awkward and I miss my privacy - but we got along okay.

My cousin asked me out of the blue this winter what Mongolia was like, and if I thought he'd like it.  It's a hard place, sometimes, but it's beautiful, and the way of life is so low-impact.  But even here on the edge of the taiga the Tsataan have some modern conveniences.  Solar panels collect power for light and even some entertainment.  The second evening I stayed here the two sons of the family powered up a very small portable tv and tuned the satellite dish to watch "My Little Ponies."  The younger boy was maybe four or five, but the other was old enough to be tooling around on the family motorcycle.  Here we were, within spitting distance of the Russian border, as "off the grid" as you can be in this day and age, and I was sacked out watching Rainbow Dash and company with the world's most remote bronies.

Add that one to the "Most Surreal Experiences" list, my friends.  It's gonna be hard to top.

On the Road, Off the Road

There is little I dislike more in life than pooping outdoors.  I grew up on a farm, and I can cope with it, but while 6.5 years of living in Asia has resigned me to peeing over a hole, I have yet to take a poo over a squatter.  Luckily, for me regularity means once every three days, so when I disappeared with my book into the lovely flush toilets at the Blue Wolf ger camp in Olgii, I figured I'd dodged that bullet again.

I did not poop behind these rocks, but it would have been a good place, if not for the snow.

But here's a little fact for you: nomadic families have milk running through their veins instead of blood.  Okay, not really, but the way that they put back milk tea would convince you otherwise.  Since it's rude not to drink, I've perfected the art of pretending to sip politely.  It's a double strike-out, when you're Mormon and lactose intolerant.  However, since I'm only mildly lactose intolerant, I make up for it by eating plenty of bread and cream.

Note: eat enough fresh cream, and you won't make it three days without pooping.  I'm just saying.

Not a house.  More like a barn.

Engrish, Geek, and I decided since we weren't coming back to UB until Thursday that we should get out into the countryside and take a stab at seeing Tavan Bogd, Mongolia's highest peak.  Canat, who owns the Blue Wolf, told us we could stay in tents at base camp, or go up a different valley and stay with a nomadic family near the glacier, which we would climb in order to see the mountain.  A couple of us (not to name names) were a little afraid of staying in tents up that high in October, so we went with the second option, and it's all for the best.  The snow that you see in the top photo blew in on us the second morning we were out, and we couldn't see the other side of the valley, let alone Tavan Bogd.  And from what we heard, the people who did go for the base camp all ended up staying in the same family's home - the woman we talked to said there were already 8 tourists hunkered down when she got there.

So we had a great trip, and except for eating more cream than I should, staying with families was great.  You have a little more space in a house than you do in a ger, and that's a wonderful thing.  The first family that we were with had the most laid back cat I have ever seen in my life.  Their two daughters manhandled it a LOT, and it just went along for a ride.  They also had a young goat which spent most of its time tethered to a corner of the "kitchen counter."  I'm sorry for the lack of pictures, but I kind of hate taking photos of people's homes.  I feel like it's an invasion of their personal space, and since I want to be a good guest, no pics for you.

We made the trip out there in one afternoon - leaving around noon and getting to the house just as it was getting dark.  One LONG, BUMPY afternoon.  We'd joked with Enkhe, our driver, about bringing us out here if our flight was cancelled, and he said that it would have been the Land Cruiser's last journey.  Having been over those roads now, I believe him!  Geek and Engrish seemed to fare alright, but my back was all kinds of strained and I had bruises from being jostled against the car door. We were in a Russian van that had 6 seats in the back, so we had plenty of space, and windows enough to enjoy the view.  During the journey I became convinced that whoever designed the Russian tank must have also had a hand in the design of the Russian van.  Those things are unstoppable.

Since we missed Tavan Bogd, you may be thinking that our time was wasted.  First of all, spending time in the countryside is never wasted (for me, it helps me to appreciate UB a little bit more...Engrish, on the other hand, has a more authentic appreciation for its charms).  But even if you hate fresh air and blue skies so bright they hurt to look at, you probably can't help getting excited at petroglyphs.  The petroglyphs scattered across the Altai mountains are one of Mongolia's three world heritage sites, and some are as old as 11,000 years!  You don't need to be a history teacher (Geek) or art teacher (me) to think that's fascinating!

I mentioned the Kazakh cemeteries yesterday, but I didn't mention another memorial: the anthropomorphic stone statues called balbals left behind during the Turkic era.  We read about them in Lonely Planet and Canat promised we'd be able to see one, but explaining what we wanted was a little difficult even with Engrish's mad Mongolian skills.  In the end we got there with, "It's a rock with the face of a man."  You can see our cook on the left and our driver on the right.  We weren't sure what we were getting ourselves into, hiring a cook, but it turned out to be one of the best decisions of our trip.  Jemisbek produced the most delicious meals, and I swear he must have worked with foreigners a lot, because he didn't cook a single thing that we were hesitant to eat.  The pinnacle of our experience was besbarmak, or Five Fingers (because that's how you are supposed to eat it), a Kazakh dish of boiled mutton, potatoes, carrots, and this scrumptious steamed long pastry-ish roll thing that had cabbage and onion inside.  The last day of our trip, after our world class driver took us through a pretty strong river, we stopped by the river and had a picnic, with the food - which was delicious - cooked on the spot by Jemisbek. 

Total inclusive cost for the three of us out in the countryside: $550.  That included our driver, our gas, our cook and food, the border permits, some money for the families with whom we stayed, and I'm sure something else I'm forgetting.

Total value of being intrepid, outdoor-pooping explorers: priceless.

New Year, New Ger

I am not a very social person.  I happen to be one of those super-spiffy individuals called "introverts" and a tiny bit of social stimulation is just about all I need most of the time (side note: don't come to see me after I've been left to my own devices for a month.  Engrish and Geek were afraid I was going to hump their legs, I was that happy to have friends again).  However, the start of a new school year means we had a LOT of new staff coming in.  It also means that we go on a big staff ger camp, and the most expedient way of getting to know ALL those people is, of course, to take them out to the countryside and give them a lot of booze (yeah, I'm Mormon, and I don't drink, but I think you learn a lot about people, pretty fast, when you put them in a big group with their coworkers and they all start drinking...you learn who can control themselves, who's an ass, who's fun no matter what...all sorts of things), and since I haven't seen much of the newbies, I like spending time with Engrish and Geek, and - let's be honest - I was looking forward to an excuse to start fires, I went.

Last year the school took us to Hustai National Park.  The spring camp went to Terelj but I decided the people I DIDN'T want to be around when they got schnackered outnumbered the ones that I love to be around under any and all circumstances, so I gave it a miss.  What I had seen of Terelj, though, I really liked, and I was excited to get out and see more.  Unfortunately the bus I was on - which I was not exactly happy about because it was full of sedate people who, for the most part, I'd already gotten to know - went to the wrong ger camp.  Twice.  (There are only about a million ger camps in Terelj, so I really don't understand how he went to the wrong one.)  But we made it there in the end, and their food was pretty great - I could have eaten nothing but their bread, which was crusty on the outside, nice and moist on the inside and I swear had a hint of sourdough about it - even if it took them an hour and a half to serve us lunch this afternoon.

I had hoped to get up in the hills earlier in the week to find kindling, but in the rush to get ready for the new school year (which has upset me on various occasions, but that's neither here nor there) it didn't happen.  Fortunately our bus was 40 minutes ahead of the other when we got to the park entrance, which then gave me a little time to find some.  But there was a problem.  I don't know if any of you 6 faithful readers have tried to start a fire with wood that isn't completely bone dry before, but if not, it's not the best idea.  It rained a few times over the last week (it seems to me that it rains more here in August than other months), and the dead wood and pine cones I was able to gather were just wet enough to be a problem.  So helpful hint for pyros number one: make sure to get DRY kindling.  Helpful hint number 2: bring the FULL box of matches.  When you've got damp kindling, you go through a lot of them.  On the upside though (ain't I the optimist?) I seem to be getting used to the cold, because when I woke up at 2:30 in the earlimorn to the sound of some Mongolians blasting music out of the trunk of their car and needing desperately to pee, the ger didn't feel that cold, and neither did the air outside.  And when I had to go looking for the guy who (for once) was going to start our fire in the morning until I chased him off because I wanted to play pyro...to ask him to come back and start our fire because this pyro ran out of matches, the predawn gloaming was beautiful, in a solitary, alien sort of way.

One of the most famous rock formations in Mongolia is in Terelj.  Can you guess what it is supposed to look like?  If you've got a guess, tell me what you think it is in the comments - I'll send a postcard to the first person who gets it right (unless I worked with that person here last year).  We stopped there when I went with Ecovoyage Mongolie to cook khuushuur this spring, but at that point I was tired, undercaffeinated, and wanted to get the hell home.  I still haven't climbed the damn thing (maybe next time), but I did get to take some pictures.

We went to Terelj Monastery before the rock, but I wasn't really into it, and stayed near the bus for the allotted hour, weaving flowers into a coronet (I've been reading a lot of faerie fiction this month - can you tell? - including rereading all of Seanan McGuire's October Daye series, which I LOVE and highly recommend if you're into urban fantasy).  I was more excited, upon arriving at the Rock, to look at their eagle and have a picture taken.  I didn't hold him for very long - he seemed kind of grouchy, and I can't blame him, since his handlers encourage the tourists to bob him up and down to get him to open his wings - but even in that short amount of time I was surprised by how much he weighed.  I've been reading up a little on eagle hunting, because I'm planning to go to the Eagle Festival in Bayan-Olgii in October.  These badasses can take down and carry off a young deer, which I find a lot more believable after feeling his claws through the leather sleeve and seeing just how sharp his beak was up close.  That close up you could see the difference in his eyes, as well - the one closest to me was clouded over, which is probably how he ended up getting the tourist gig.  Regardless, he was an amazing bird, and I only felt slightly ridiculous telling him how beautiful he was and thanking him for letting me hold him.