Winter Vacation
I arranged to take a week off while Thomas was visiting so we could have a relaxing, mid-winter vacation. I was thinking of someplace warm, with white sand beaches, blue, sunny skies, a light breeze, and clean air. Consulting my trusty Mongolian guide book, the perfect destination quickly became obvious: the Gobi desert! It's at least 10 degrees warmer than UB, it has lots of great sand, it almost never gets cloudy, and there's virtually no infrastructure or development. When I described it this way to Thomas, he enthusiastically agreed.
A little more research uncovered the names of a malchin family willing to host juulchin (tourists) in their ger. The family lives in a ger in the Govi Gurvan Sayhan National Park, about 55 kilometers from the southern Gobi aimag capital of Dalanzadgad. I quickly booked our airplane tickets to Dalanzadgad and arranged for word to be sent that we'd be arriving on December 30.
My only concern was that other people wanting to get away from the cold and grit of UB would have the same idea. I feared that the dunes would be crowded with other tourists over the popular New Year's holiday weekend. I was glad I'd booked early.
As I had feared, the weekly flight from UB to Dalanzadgad was packed. I was a little surprised that we seemed to be the only tourists, but of course you can't always tell who's a tourist and who's a local. After landing, we found our jolotch (driver) and agreed (after some fairly intense negotiations) that he would take us across the roadless desert to our resort destination.
Indeed the sand was a lovely and plentiful as I'd imagined, and the sun was bright in the sky. Approaching the craggy mountains from the completely flat plain of the desert, I lost all sense of scale or distance. I couldn't tell whether an object was one mile away, or ten. This in turn made me feel pleasantly weightless. My feet, particularly, felt weightless (although later when I stepped out of the unheated Jeep I realized they were just numb).
Tara, Otgon, and their four-year-old son Mende live with their mal in the foothills of the Dund Sayhany Nuruu mountains. Their existence there is made possible by an underground water table that is fed by snowmelt from the nearby peaks. They herd sheep, goats, and horses, and they are the proud owners of a Bactrian camel (which they let us ride!). 
As is the Mongolian way, Tara fed us, kept us warm (burning dung in their metal stove), and did not laugh at my pathetic attempts to converse in Mongolian. Little Mende has three times the vocabulary that I do! However, I know all my letters and he doesn't. So there.
On New Year's eve, we were invited us to accompany Tara, Otgon and Mende to Otgon's sister's ger, located about a mile up the valley. For the celebration, the hostess had thawed out airag (fermented mare's milk) made last summer, which was passed around to accompany the dozens of freshly made buuz and other traditional foods on offer. Thomas counted 21 neighbors and relatives gathered in that ger for the celebration, although strangely we were the only tourists.
On New Year's day, we saddled up three of Otgon's horses and rode the 15 kilometers to Yolyn Am, a gorge so deep that ice remains there even in summer.
Imagine my surprise to see that ours were the only footprints in the snow at this popular tourist destination! I guess the other visitors must have slept in. Of course, sliding down an ice-filled gorge is probably more fun when it's 100 degrees than when it's minus 20, but we were just glad to have the place to ourselves. On the ride back, we noticed the cooling breeze described in the guidebooks. We deployed face masks and chemical foot warmers to prevent frostbite.
The rest of the week, when we weren't eating or relaxing, we hiked around the Dund Sayhany Nuruuu and the Nuun Sahany Nuruu mountains.
Otgon taught us how to spot the local Ibex (yageer), and to identify the various raptors and other birds we saw. Below is a photo of me taking in the scenery with another hiker we encountered. 
Flying back to civilization after a week of rest and relaxation was hard. Luckily MIAT (the Mongolian national airline) made our journey easy. They didn't waste time x-raying our bags; instead, an employee affixed a "security checked" sticker to our carry ons as we filed out of the terminal. And, the pilots didn't sit idly waiting until the scheduled departure time; they took off just as soon as they thought enough people were on board (a half hour early). Hot tea and Kit Kat bars distributed during the flight provided the calories we needed to stay warm in the 50 degree cabin.
Seriously, though, it was a great trip. The scenery was dramatic, the hiking was plentiful, and we had the privilege of spending time with a family living in the traditional way. We got some small sense of the rhythms of rural Mongolian life, the customs of the malchin, and their ingenious strategies for subsisting in a harsh environment.
A little more research uncovered the names of a malchin family willing to host juulchin (tourists) in their ger. The family lives in a ger in the Govi Gurvan Sayhan National Park, about 55 kilometers from the southern Gobi aimag capital of Dalanzadgad. I quickly booked our airplane tickets to Dalanzadgad and arranged for word to be sent that we'd be arriving on December 30.
My only concern was that other people wanting to get away from the cold and grit of UB would have the same idea. I feared that the dunes would be crowded with other tourists over the popular New Year's holiday weekend. I was glad I'd booked early.
As I had feared, the weekly flight from UB to Dalanzadgad was packed. I was a little surprised that we seemed to be the only tourists, but of course you can't always tell who's a tourist and who's a local. After landing, we found our jolotch (driver) and agreed (after some fairly intense negotiations) that he would take us across the roadless desert to our resort destination.
Indeed the sand was a lovely and plentiful as I'd imagined, and the sun was bright in the sky. Approaching the craggy mountains from the completely flat plain of the desert, I lost all sense of scale or distance. I couldn't tell whether an object was one mile away, or ten. This in turn made me feel pleasantly weightless. My feet, particularly, felt weightless (although later when I stepped out of the unheated Jeep I realized they were just numb).
Tara, Otgon, and their four-year-old son Mende live with their mal in the foothills of the Dund Sayhany Nuruu mountains. Their existence there is made possible by an underground water table that is fed by snowmelt from the nearby peaks. They herd sheep, goats, and horses, and they are the proud owners of a Bactrian camel (which they let us ride!). 
As is the Mongolian way, Tara fed us, kept us warm (burning dung in their metal stove), and did not laugh at my pathetic attempts to converse in Mongolian. Little Mende has three times the vocabulary that I do! However, I know all my letters and he doesn't. So there.
On New Year's eve, we were invited us to accompany Tara, Otgon and Mende to Otgon's sister's ger, located about a mile up the valley. For the celebration, the hostess had thawed out airag (fermented mare's milk) made last summer, which was passed around to accompany the dozens of freshly made buuz and other traditional foods on offer. Thomas counted 21 neighbors and relatives gathered in that ger for the celebration, although strangely we were the only tourists.
On New Year's day, we saddled up three of Otgon's horses and rode the 15 kilometers to Yolyn Am, a gorge so deep that ice remains there even in summer.
Imagine my surprise to see that ours were the only footprints in the snow at this popular tourist destination! I guess the other visitors must have slept in. Of course, sliding down an ice-filled gorge is probably more fun when it's 100 degrees than when it's minus 20, but we were just glad to have the place to ourselves. On the ride back, we noticed the cooling breeze described in the guidebooks. We deployed face masks and chemical foot warmers to prevent frostbite.The rest of the week, when we weren't eating or relaxing, we hiked around the Dund Sayhany Nuruuu and the Nuun Sahany Nuruu mountains.
Otgon taught us how to spot the local Ibex (yageer), and to identify the various raptors and other birds we saw. Below is a photo of me taking in the scenery with another hiker we encountered. 
Flying back to civilization after a week of rest and relaxation was hard. Luckily MIAT (the Mongolian national airline) made our journey easy. They didn't waste time x-raying our bags; instead, an employee affixed a "security checked" sticker to our carry ons as we filed out of the terminal. And, the pilots didn't sit idly waiting until the scheduled departure time; they took off just as soon as they thought enough people were on board (a half hour early). Hot tea and Kit Kat bars distributed during the flight provided the calories we needed to stay warm in the 50 degree cabin.
Seriously, though, it was a great trip. The scenery was dramatic, the hiking was plentiful, and we had the privilege of spending time with a family living in the traditional way. We got some small sense of the rhythms of rural Mongolian life, the customs of the malchin, and their ingenious strategies for subsisting in a harsh environment.
posted by Susanne D. at 2:07 PM
1 Comments:
Bahin, that sounds like a great trip! I have been reading all of your postings ever since Marla G. gave me your blog site. What an awesome experience you must be having over there. Love Joan
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