. . . and coming back

We stopped at a couple of Tuvan gers on the long drive back, and at the first we were poured koumiss instead of chai. I wanted to try mare's milk, so was glad for the opportunity. That's also where I finally saw the ubiquitous bread being made. I tried yak cream and yak butter as well. All of it was good, but all of it was fairly fresh too. I've read of nomads carrying the koumiss or butter for days in goat skins and it becoming fairly rancid. That might change my opinion!

The mare milking was just finishing up when we visited.

The butter in the chai custom is good, but my favorite was adding cream. Mmmm.

More seen on the way home-

This is the road...

An ancient Turkic burial site

Dried dung is stored on the flat roof for later use in the fire

We were driving through this

Part II

At bedtime, I was told to take what looked to me like the largest bed. I demurred, but was convinced when they told me I'd be cold on the floor, despite my sleeping bag. I fell asleep while they were still doing their nightly things, and was a bit chagrined to wake up in the morning and find that Grandma (my age) and one of the children from the other ger sleeping on the floor.

In the morning I laid awake for hours waiting for the others to start their day. I guess that there's really no rush when everything you do is so weather-related and affected. Bonbua was up first, starting a fire and getting things started for breakfast.

This is the baby's bed, and the baby in the morning, waiting to be released from it. Banbua was quite proud of the bed, showing me the setup. The baby wears no diapers during the day, they just change his pants when required. At night he is strapped into this bed, and it has a catch-cup for the obvious purpose.

Early in the morning as I lay awake, I heard the distinctive sound of my alarm going off- oh no! Despite scrabbling around in the bag for it in the semi-darkness, I couldn't locate it. Fortunately it was a short lived alarm, and muffled by being in my bag. If anyone noticed, it wasn't obvious. Of course, one sleeps through noises one is used to- the sound and shadows of what I'm choosing to say were birds on the ger top in the morning bothered no one, and even the dogs barking once or twice did nothing to interfere with sleep for those accustomed to it. So I'm hoping my alarm went unnoticed.

I had read about the proper way to accept and hold my chai cup, and it was fun to practice that. So much of the life in the ger reminds me of living off the grid in a remote place here in the US. It's just much harder to find that kind of space in the US, and there is what seems to be unlimited space here. It's about the size of Alaska, and as of a few years ago, the population was about 3 million. About one fourth of those are pastoral nomads, like this family I visited.

Bonbau told me that she has been to Kazakhstan, although she was not able to find enough English to tell me whether she had lived there or visited. She did indicate she had gone to some years of university and had lived and worked in Ulaan Bataar for three years before marrying and coming here. The fact that her mother and siblings are mostly here seems to me to indicate that this was her original home area, but I'm not sure. She has a brother who is either studying to be, or is a policeman, and a brother who lives in the other ger in this camp. Her youngest sister is the 13-14 year old girl who lives in her ger, and she has a sister who lives 6 kilometers away. Her father is dead and one sibling is dead. She and her husband intrigued me. They seemed quite happy together, although of course not demonstrative, being Muslim and conservative. She is very proud of her son, and I made an effort to make clear how adorable he is despite the language barrier. He grew accustomed to me by the morning, and allowed me to play with him a bit.

I went outside to talk to Daulet about the return journey and saw several members of the family herding the collection of goats, sheep and yak off to the day's pasture, and the cows separated for the same purpose. Later I saw the teenage girl coming back from milking the cows in the field (no barn in this arrangement). This group effort reminded me of our days on the farm in Wisconsin, when everyone pitched in to get things done, because it needed doing. I would have loved to participate but was unable to tell where they wanted to go, and the last thing I wanted to do was to get in the way.

In the morning light the eagles were preening and stretching their wings. In last night's rain they looked miserable.

As we sat having the morning chai, the door opened and in walked an older man, at which everyone sprang up with alacrity to welcome him, and immediately the seat of honor was vacated for him. By this I knew he was someone of stature, and eventually was told he is the grandmother's brother (Bonbau's uncle). He was poured a cup of chai and the conversation carried on. The men had by now all come in from the morning's initial work for their chai, and it was an interesting scene, albeit somehow familiar- again bringing back the days on the farm with so many parallels.

Walking around outside, I saw more evidence of the life in the ger.

Skins drying

One of a few caches of food

Bonbua told me they are moving tomorrow (today now, I guess), and this ger is already packed in preparation for the move.

raw wool waiting for processing

I had, as instructed, brought a couple of bags of small candy with me, which I gave to Banbau to distribute as she saw fit. In the morning when her baby fussed to get out of his bed, she placated him with a piece of candy, clearly not his first. The candy seemed to be a big hit with everyone, just one more thing to thank Norca for. She had also suggested I give the family 20,000 tugrik as a gift/payment for their hospitality, which I gave to Bonbau's husband as the head of the family. Then it was time to say goodbye and thank you.

Good morning

I slept the sleep of the dead last night, waking once to the sounds of my partying neighbors, but dropped right off again. I'm sitting in a coffee shop plotting my next steps, and enjoying a bit of leisure.

Last night when the power went out, I felt a lot less alarm than when it went out two nights ago- perhaps this is a routine thing. At any rate, it does not stay off long, and I can't do anything about it. Work deadline finished, I could just go to bed. But it was on again shortly.

No water this morning, which was a little surprising. But what's one more day without a shower, after all? I have bottled water for teeth brushing.

More on the adventures of yesterday, if the internet stays up (it too goes up and down with regularity).

Day of arrival

It was incredible to realize that this family lives so differently from anything I know. They make most of their own food products, other than tea and coffee. The women of the two gers work together on some projects, the men work together with the animals. The ger is about 30 feet across, with a metal pole in the middle next to the stove pipe to help support the upper circle. Smaller gers do not have this support pole. The stove is low and has a fairly large surface area to allow for multiple pans to be on the stove simultaneously. It is fueled mostly by dried dung.

Things I ate: mutton, mutton and more mutton; butter and cream on the fried bread that they use, some of what I thought was cheese, but turned out to be a milk solid of some kind-all of this was made by the women who live there.  When we gathered, chai would be made first, a bowl of bread and various other items set out on the low table, and we'd gather on the short wooden stools that are the only kind of chair they have.

I watched the dishes being washed- only with water, no soap was used. Various kettles and pots served back to back purpose without an interval, and the bowls we used for everything from soup to chai were washed in the same way.

The wife of Daulet's brother speaks a little English, which was quite a relief. As soon as we arrived, everyone gathered for chai, bread, etc, and I was given the seat of honor- the one at the back of the table and directly in front of the alter- also the coldest spot in the room. Meanwhile a couple of the women worked on sewing a felted design together (from their own sheeps' wool), the rest talked around the table, and everyone periodically redirected or cuddled the young ones. The hot stove stood in the center, and no one seemed to worry about the baby grabbing hold of it but me. I was lost in the sea of voices, knowing nothing that was said and feeling very awkward, when suddenly there was a pause and Bonboa (not sure of the spelling) said to me in English, "what's your name?" She became my link to whatever was going on, unfortunately for her. The ger in which I was staying is hers and her husband's, and her mother and youngest sister live with them as well.

There are beds around the perimeter- three total in this ger. At the very back of the ger, directly opposite the door, is the sort of family alter, where ancestors' photos are placed, and sometimes other mementos. This family is Muslim, but doesn't appear to be actively practicing, other than the women all wear headscarves.

The first time I needed to use the bathroom (I could wait no longer), I asked Banbua, who walked outside and pointed it out to me. That was quite an experience, as you will guess from this photo.

Later in the evening, Banbua asked me "toilet?" - I think she had seen me surreptitiously pulling some toilet paper from my bag. I said yes and we went out in the dark together with a head lamp. She directed me to a spot not as far from the gers, and explained that at night this was fine. I heartily concurred, I could not imagine navigating this one in the dark. It was a strange experience to be crouching in the dark with her though.

Going

The ride out was full of things to see- yaks along the river, sweeping mountains one after the other, rock walls, gers, stone cabins and outbuildings, adobe blocks drying in the sun, and once when we met and passed a truck, Daulet stopped suddenly and got out to talk and smoke with the driver of the truck- his 'family' he said.

These guys flagged us down to get some petrol. There were quite a few trucks loaded down like this- grass/hay for winter fodder being collected.

We saw a lot of families on the move-this time of year many families either return to town (and may live in a house or a ger in town), or move to winter pasture lands. This one was only the truck, but a lot had herds of animals along with the truck

We stopped first in Tsengel, to drop off  Daulet's family at home. I got lunch with the family, the first of several experiences like that. When it was time for Daulet's son to go to school, I got to go along. People sort of stared, but I followed close behind Grandma. People stopped her often to shake her hand, greet her, and comment on her grandson just now starting school. I couldn't understand the words, but it wasn't hard to get the gist.

And then we drove endlessly.We drove for hours in absolute silence other than the radio, because Daulet's English is very limited, mostly centered around things related to his work as a driver for tours. I would ask him something, or even make a noise in amazement, and this would start a spiral of misunderstanding that left us both dissatisfied. So I started having conversations in my head instead.

Around 3 pm we reached the vicinity of Khurgan Nuur (lake), and it was there the rain caught up with us. It was about then that I realized what I'd gotten myself in for and started to panic just a little. But we were far from Kansas, dear Dorothy, so I must soldier on. Still, I began to dread arrival at the ger.

The road traveled

I neglected to mention that there are no seatbelts in Daulet's van. His wife and two children are riding with us to their house. We stopped right away for petrol, for the cost of which I am responsible. That plus 140,000 tugrik are the cost for his driving, plus Norca suggested I bring some candies for the children, and give the host family about 20,000 tugrik. I left my pack at the hotel, and didn't want to leave anything of value there, so I am loaded down with dollars, yuan, tugrik, and some roubles.

Meeting Norca was extreme good fortune for me. She happened to be passing when I tried to ask at the hotel desk about a driver and the person working spoke no English. Norca immediately stepped in, explained the normal costs, and said she would call some drivers she knows. She works as a guide for a tour company, and went to the effort of coming to my room after she made some calls, arranged for Daulet to meet us in the hotel restaurant, and served as interpreter. Daulet's English is quite limited, but I'm pointing no fingers. I know no Mongolian other than thank you.

The day started off a bit ragged for me, because I had some work that I had to deal with and it meant setting my alarm for an hour later all night until about 5:30 am, when I got the email that said my part was completed. The first alarm was a serious jolt to my system, but somehow it got easier as the night wore on. The middle of the night thing was due to the time difference. At any rate, I was a little off kilter to start, but found coffee in time to race back and meet Daulet at the hotel.

We left the blacktop almost immediately, swerving onto a dirt track that appeared to go nowhere. It turns out there are miles and miles of these all over the area. When heavy rains wash out a track, a new one gets created- or the creek just gets forded.

To say it was rough is an understatement. I had to hang on tight, and was still thrown backward, forward, and sideways, sometimes lifted off the seat by the hard landings, and I'm pretty sure I got a little whiplash before I started using my jacket to bring my body more upright. Hours and hours of this took its' toll, but it was worth it. Daulet's van appears to me to be an old Soviet model, and I've read that they just keep going- today especially, that was true. We forded many streams, got through a lot of mudholes that I thought surely would be the end.