Ulaan Baatar - Nadaam Festival Day 2

The group was getting more than distressed about the hotel, now affectionately being called “The Slungie”, and the prospect of an 8 hour ride in a jam packed van- so we had a conversation with Flora to solicit her help in getting things fixed…
More Naadam…this time the finals of the horse racing.

The roads were jammed going out to the finish line. There are 6 categories of horse racing depending on the ages of the horses. There are no tracks or course- just open steppe. The jockeys are boys and girls between 5 and 13 years old. We unfortunately missed the finish- but it may have been just as well- the dust was horrendous and it was interesting to see the site after the races as the horses and riders raced through the crowds.

We stopped by a ger in the area and amazingly found a family with two women who spoke perfect English.

The father was a former MP in the government and a very regal man. The family had ‘city jobs’ during the year, but during Naadam, they head to their ger to be with their horses (champion racing horses). The daughter taught law at the university and her cousin was a judge. We got to try ayrak (fermented mare’s milk) and some of their grilled mutton and washed it down with some Absolut vodka.

John and Martin got to try the snuff and smoke from the father’s pipe. Mongolia has an amazing tradition of hospitality. Strangers will invite you into their ger, give you food and drink and never ask for anything in return- the culture of the nomad.
This is the land of 2 million people and 30 million livestock. According to ger etiquette, you should first knock on the door and say, “Knoch Nukhoi Khor”- translating to “Can I come in?”, but literally meaning, “Hold the dog”.
Before lunch, we headed to the Monastery-Museum of Choijin Lama, the home of the brother of the last king and 8th Living Buddha.

Once again, it was saved from destruction by the communists and made into a museum to demonstrate “the feudal ways of the past”. There are five temples within the grounds and they contain some beautiful tsam masks.

When the revolution of 1921 brought the communists to power, they realized that they were not strong enough to take on the religious establishment (at that time, there were over 110,000 lamas/ 1/3 of the male population living in over 700 monasteries). Today, there are about 1000 lamas in 30 monasteries. When the eighth Living Buddha died in 1924, they prohibited a successor from being found. In 1937 they began a purge on the monasteries. Choibalsan sent his secret police into the monasteries and over 17,000 monks were arrested and never heard from again. It’s presumed that they were executed or died in Siberian prison camps. The monasteries were closed, ransacked and burned. Only 4 were preserved as museums.


Lunch was at the Genghis Khaan Restaurant- a Korean restaurant with a rustic interior reminiscent of the old West playing American country western songs (like “North to Alaska”).

Finally it was on to the Winter Palace of the Bogd Khaan. It was built between 1893 and 1903 as the Palace of the Bogd Khaan, Mongolia’s eighth Living Buddha and last king. There are stories of the Bodg Khaan as both a great visionary and leader and as a man who was fond of women and wine and blind with syphilis. When he died in 1924, the communists prohibited any ongoing reincarnations, but for some reason spared the museum. There were 6 temples on the grounds, but the most interesting building was the Winter Palace itself. It was filled with gifts from foreign dignitaries (a robe made up of 80 foxes and a ger lined with the skins of 150 snow leopards.

We made a short stop at a “beer bar” to grab a cold beer and wash our feet off—the dirt from the horse racing was awful. Then we had a “cultural experience”- a performance of traditional Mongolian song and dance. The highlight was the throat singing, known as khoomi.

The city was active that night- the second night of Naadam. The men were glued to the TV watching the highlights of the wrestling finals and we grabbed some food in a small bar. On the way out, we saw the wrestler who came in 2nd place- and Christine got a picture of him with Martin. He didn’t look too amused when Martin jumped into the photo.
We coined a new term- flash food- for that food that leaves your body almost as quickly as it got in. I had a case of flash lasagna that night.
Our conversation with Flora must have put a fire under the hotel staff- we got back to our rooms to find fresh large towels, the rooms had been cleaned and they even put a vase of wild flowers by our beds. John was so pleased that he took the towels, the flowers and the toilet paper to Martin and Christine’s’ room and did an eagle dance.