Tsagaan Sar (White Month)
The most important Mongolian hoiday is Tsagaan Sar, which marks the lunar new year. Celebration of the lunar new year in some form has been a part of Mongolian culture for thousands of years, probably since the time of the Huns. The actual season in which the holiday occurs has varied over time. In recent times, it has been celebrated in January, February or March; however, in earlier days it was celebrated in late summer or fall (hence the name, which signifies the availability of "white" or dairy foods). But whatever month is chosen, the fifteen-day event begins on the day after the first day in which the moon does not rise. This year, that day was January 30th, although in typical Mongolian fashion some scholars disputed the date, saying it actually should have started on the 29th.
Unlike Christmas and the January 1 new year, Tsagaan Sar holds symbolic and religious signficance for Mongolians. It represents a time of cleansing and making new, greeting family and friends, honoring elders, and ensuring a fat and prosperous new year. And in the Monglian way, everyone is invited.
Fellow-Alaskan Amy Crawford invited me to celebrate with her in Tsetserleg ("The Garden"), some 450 kilometers from UB. So on Saturday at 7 am, I wedged myself into a bus along with 37 other people and our luggage. Anyone who's ever taken a long-distance bust trip in a developing country will instantly know our misery. In fact, the bus riders among you are probably having traumatic flashbacks and heart palpitations right now. For those of you not fortunate enough to have experirenced this particular modeof transportation, I can report that it is not comfortable, clean, reliable, timely, or safe; but it is cheap.
We arrived in Tsetserleg a mere 12 hours later (including time for one flat tire and a busted clutch). But The Garden lives up to its name. It sits in a lovely river valley and is surrounded on three sides by mountains.
The night before Tsagaan Sar (called bituu), people in Tsetserleg climb the holy mountain nearest town and leave candles in its rock crevices. That night, the hundreds of candles resembled rivers of golden lights flowing down the sides of the mountain.
After leaving our candles, we came down and joined the crowd visiting the local temple. Inside, a continuous stream of men, women, and children slowly circlued clockwise around the altar, spinning prayer wheels and listening to the rhythmic chanting of the monks.
The next morning, the official beginning of the holiday, we joined in the tradition of visiting elders, in this case the parents of Amy's friends. On this day, everyone visits all their grandparents and elderly relatives, staring with the oldest first. Everyone wears the best and newest deel.
The elders boil a fatty sheep butt and construct a tall stack of confections and bread. These items are prominently displayed in each ger to ensure a fat and prosperous year.
Upon entering the ger, visitors exchange ritual greetings with everyone present. The greetings involve placing one's arms either under, over, or parallel to the other person's arms (depending on who is older), exchanging wishes for peace, and being kissed on both cheeks (but the "kiss" is actually more like being sniffed, as Mongolians traditionally believed that a person's essence is contained not in their flesh but in their breath, blood, and odor). Luckily, Mongolians are very forgiving of foreigners' faux pas in these areas of etiquette
Once the guests are seated, the hosts spend the next several hours plying them with unreasonable quantities of buuz, sliced dried cream, dried milk curd, and candy. Guests also are pressed to drink endless cups of salty milk tea and rounds of vodka. To claim that you are full is bad form. Luckily, Mongolians are generally forgiving of foreigners' underdeveloped capacity to eat buuz..
Later, as the visit winds down, hosts and guests exchange gifts. The guests then waddle off (or in our case, pile into the Jeep)
(Yes, everyone in the photo got in that Jeep) to the next set of grandparents or elderly relatives and repeat the whole thing. Amy and I did three rounds of visits that day.
But that's only Day 1! Mongolians perform this social and culinary endurance event with different family members and friends for three days in a row. They then perform slightly less intense versions of it every day for the next 12 days. Luckily for me, the need to return to work gave me a good excuse to retreat to UB the next morning. Amy, lacking an excuse, gamely prepared for Day 2.
Unlike Christmas and the January 1 new year, Tsagaan Sar holds symbolic and religious signficance for Mongolians. It represents a time of cleansing and making new, greeting family and friends, honoring elders, and ensuring a fat and prosperous new year. And in the Monglian way, everyone is invited.
Fellow-Alaskan Amy Crawford invited me to celebrate with her in Tsetserleg ("The Garden"), some 450 kilometers from UB. So on Saturday at 7 am, I wedged myself into a bus along with 37 other people and our luggage. Anyone who's ever taken a long-distance bust trip in a developing country will instantly know our misery. In fact, the bus riders among you are probably having traumatic flashbacks and heart palpitations right now. For those of you not fortunate enough to have experirenced this particular modeof transportation, I can report that it is not comfortable, clean, reliable, timely, or safe; but it is cheap.
We arrived in Tsetserleg a mere 12 hours later (including time for one flat tire and a busted clutch). But The Garden lives up to its name. It sits in a lovely river valley and is surrounded on three sides by mountains.
The night before Tsagaan Sar (called bituu), people in Tsetserleg climb the holy mountain nearest town and leave candles in its rock crevices. That night, the hundreds of candles resembled rivers of golden lights flowing down the sides of the mountain.
After leaving our candles, we came down and joined the crowd visiting the local temple. Inside, a continuous stream of men, women, and children slowly circlued clockwise around the altar, spinning prayer wheels and listening to the rhythmic chanting of the monks.
The next morning, the official beginning of the holiday, we joined in the tradition of visiting elders, in this case the parents of Amy's friends. On this day, everyone visits all their grandparents and elderly relatives, staring with the oldest first. Everyone wears the best and newest deel.
The elders boil a fatty sheep butt and construct a tall stack of confections and bread. These items are prominently displayed in each ger to ensure a fat and prosperous year.
Upon entering the ger, visitors exchange ritual greetings with everyone present. The greetings involve placing one's arms either under, over, or parallel to the other person's arms (depending on who is older), exchanging wishes for peace, and being kissed on both cheeks (but the "kiss" is actually more like being sniffed, as Mongolians traditionally believed that a person's essence is contained not in their flesh but in their breath, blood, and odor). Luckily, Mongolians are very forgiving of foreigners' faux pas in these areas of etiquette
Once the guests are seated, the hosts spend the next several hours plying them with unreasonable quantities of buuz, sliced dried cream, dried milk curd, and candy. Guests also are pressed to drink endless cups of salty milk tea and rounds of vodka. To claim that you are full is bad form. Luckily, Mongolians are generally forgiving of foreigners' underdeveloped capacity to eat buuz..
Later, as the visit winds down, hosts and guests exchange gifts. The guests then waddle off (or in our case, pile into the Jeep)
(Yes, everyone in the photo got in that Jeep) to the next set of grandparents or elderly relatives and repeat the whole thing. Amy and I did three rounds of visits that day.But that's only Day 1! Mongolians perform this social and culinary endurance event with different family members and friends for three days in a row. They then perform slightly less intense versions of it every day for the next 12 days. Luckily for me, the need to return to work gave me a good excuse to retreat to UB the next morning. Amy, lacking an excuse, gamely prepared for Day 2.
posted by Susanne D. at 2:03 PM
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