Five Go Off To A Ger Camp

On Saturday afternoon, me, my host sisters Saruul and Enkhzul, their sister Tumi and her friend, all piled into Tumi’s car and drove out of Ulaanbaatar to the countryside beyond.

“What’s your favourite music, Ros?” Tumi called back to me as we were hurtling along.

“The Beatles.” I replied. The car swerved violently to the left as Tumi delved into her CD compartment and unearthed a 28 track Beatles compilation. After the car was realigned with the oncoming traffic, I could relax to the sound of ‘All My Loving’ and ‘From Me To You’.

We arrived at the ger camp at dusk, having taken three wrong turns and driven through a massive sprawl of gers and huts.

Ger unlocked, we hauled our supplies inside, then stood around shivering uncontrollably until a little man came along with a bucket of coal and fired up the stove for us. Within minutes, Saruul had a pan of pak choi and noodles hissing away on, Enkhzul was playing Teddy Pendergrass from her portable speaker, and Tumi had broken out the Mongolian beer. The party had started.

After we had eaten, we had a few rounds of cards. The girls’ Mongolian card game, however, counted 2 and 3 as ‘high cards’, and this totally messed with my head. To make matters worse for me, the punishment for losing a round was to have the others actually inflict physical pain on you, either by whacking you on the wrist, or by flicking you really hard on the forehead. As a result of this, and the aforementioned Mongolian beer, I woke up in the morning feeling quite tender.

I don’t think I could have felt any further away from home than I did when I was sat on my bed looking up at the stars through the top of the tent, whilst the girls all sat around in the dark singing Mongolian folk songs for me. Perhaps more surreal though was when Tumi, remembering my love for The Beatles, led them into a rendition of ‘Yesterday’.

Sleeping in a ger is one of the cosiest experiences you can have. Tucked up under several blankets, with the stove spilling out warmth, the dogs howling in the distance, and the tent flapping quietly in the wind, I fell asleep almost instantly.

I was woken up at 1am by the little man returning to top up our stove with another bucket of coal, and then again at 6am by my alarm – I wanted to get up and see the day break. I took my coat and camera and headed outside, where all was still and silent. It was so beautiful.

After crunching around in the snow for a while, I headed back to the ger. It was at this point that I was thankful for my Rabies jabs, because I turned around to find five or six scraggly dogs loping along behind me. Another was sat on the doorstep of our ger like he’d just knocked and was waiting to be let in for breakfast.

With cold hands and toes, I crept back under the covers and lay looking up through the top of the tent until the others stirred around me.

The little man came back in and had breakfast with us (I don’t know who invited him) and then we all headed out to play basketball and volleyball in the snow. A little while later, we filed back inside to warm our hands around mugs of milk tea. Then we packed up and set off for Terelj.

We had to leave this little guy behind.

Horse-trekking in -18

Yesterday I rode a horse through a snow-cloaked valley at such a speed that it was a miracle I managed to stay on. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and probably an experience I’ll never have again in my life – in England, they don’t tend to put beginners on top of horses which run like they’re escaping wildfire.

We (me, two other volunteers from England and Germany, and an American man and his daughter) hired a van to take us out of the city and into the Mongolian countryside. Unfortunately, this van had no seatbelts, and the potholes were big enough for a full-grown man to lie down in. We drove for miles and miles without seeing anything except for mountains, and a herd of camels surrounded by four enormous eagles. Lord knows what they were doing there… I’ve stopped questioning what I see in Mongolia…

Finally fell out of the van at the ger camp, which looked like this:

Here we were helped onto our horses by a man wearing what looked like an entire fox on his head, the ‘deel’, and curly-toed Mongolian boots. He grabbed my arm to help me up and almost launched me clear of the horse entirely.

I don’t think I will ever forget our horse-trek between the white mountains feathered with trees, partly because that Mongolian may have permanently altered the way my arm hangs by my side, but mostly because the scenery was just so fantastic. It was freezing cold but the sky was deep blue, as ever. Not a sound could be heard in the valley except for the soft moan escaping our guide’s lips. At first I put this down to the Mongolian saddle, which is made out of wood, with no padding whatsoever, but by riding closer to him I realised he was quietly singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.

Here is our guide, Zulaa. His Mongolian saddle forced him to shift his weight continuously.

This Mongolian came thundering through the valley towards us. He had seen us approaching in the distance and was keen to invite us inside his ger.

Having already ridden for 2.5 hours, we gladly accepted his invitation and tied our horses up outside the ger, where we were greeted by two rosy-cheeked children dressed in their ‘deels’. Inside, the stove was on, and we gladly filed in to receive milk tea, sweets, buuz and curds (or in Zulaa’s case, what looked to be the whole hind leg of a sheep which he cut from the bone.) The nomad and his family watched us with intrigue.

This is a particularly terrible photo of Tom, who looks like he’s just been sentenced to death by hanging, but it gives you an impression of  what the inside of a ger looks like.

And this is the outside.

Then we rode back to the camp, where we met a group of people from the international school. As we sat chatting in a ger, we heard a blood-curdling yowl, and a dog staggered in with its ear hanging off its head. The dogs are always fighting each other out there in the wilderness.

Driving home, we had to stop the van whilst a herd of cattle crossed the road. We also stopped to get photos of ourselves holding an eagle. It was the evening by then, and the sun was setting behind the beautiful Mongolian mountains. As we were about to enter Ulaanbaatar, a full moon rose up behind them.