Part 3 of the Arhaingai travel blog. Again, this more or less straight form my journal while bouncing around central Mongolia. You may read the previous two entries as well.
And now day 3...
Morning - Well it did rain last night, but I stayed warm and dry. The tent works well!
(The view from my tent)
I was thinking this morning about a conversation I had with a lady coming off the volcano (the one who spoke some English). There are a a series of ovoos (a pile of rocks with roots in shamanism that are on every high place in Mongolia. They are thought to be the dwelling place of various sorts of spirits and/or dead relatives.) coming off the volcano. The Mongolian people will throw rocks or money or some other trinket on top of the ovoo and walk around it three times. I waited as a group of folks did this while we were coming down. The lady said she needed to do it, but she went on to say that she had no idea why she did it. She shrugged her shoulders and said that maybe it was just the Mongolian way. I have come to the conclusion that for the majority of Mongolians this is the case. They don't know why they do what they, particularly as far as spiritual things are concerned. She went on to tell me that during the days of Communism it was illegal to celebrate cultural events. Not even Tsagaan Sar (the big celebration during 'Chinese New Year') was allowed. It made me realize how truly fragmented this culture really is - and yet how deep it flows, in that even after being suppressed and persecuted, it still has found a way to rise again. The issue being that the meaning behind the events and the ritual has been forgotten by many.
Evening - Well, this day did not go as expected! I had wanted to have a quiet day, maybe climb a peak or two, do some reading, do some writing - but none of that, really. I spend most of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon with my new Mongolian friends celebrating both Naadam and their 15 year class reunion. There is one lady who works for the Peace Corps who knows English fairly well. However, this has been some decent language practice - I've heard quite a bit of regular colloquial Mongolian. I was not really able to follow conversations with out help from my Peace Corps friend, but it did come in bits and pieces. In any case, I ended up being the 'guest of honor' when it came time to start the toasts. Of course in Mongolia, when the toasts start - they don't really ever stop. Interestingly enough, as the vodka flowed (for the Mongolians, not for me - just to be clear) so did the conversation. I learned what this 80 year old math teacher (the man pictured below) thinks about the changing educational and political system in Mongolia. Others shared about what they think the real purpose in life is - or should be. My Peace Corps friend asked me if I think spiritual comes before material, or if material comes before spiritual. In her mind, the capitalist system - and the people who are brought up in that system - will always place material things over spiritual things. She says Mongolians are not wired that way. Mind you she doesn't like socialism either. She (and the others I was talking with) feel that Mongolia needs to find her own system that works for Mongolia. I said that I would tend to to agree. However, I also told them that I am a Christian and that people who are really Christians believe that the spiritual will always take precedent over the material - because we live for what is to come. She seemed quite surprised and didn't know that Christians believed like that - I guess she thinks we're all capitalist money-lovers. It seems to me that some of these folks had never really been exposed to real Christianity. The vodka went around again and the conversation moved to other subjects like rain and how to make good airag and the lifestyles of sheep herders.
I don't know if it was because of the liquor, or if my name is really that difficult to pronounce in Mongolian. However, they asked my name several times. I would tell them - and they would make some effort to pronounce it - but with quite a bit of difficulty. At which point they decided I needed a Mongolian name. At first they transcribed my name to it's closest Mongolian words which ended being: Bor Nyam - which means "Brown Sunday". I don't think they liked that too much - which was fine because I really didn't like it either. So they just made it "boroo" - which means "rain". Now, lest you think they were insulting me - in Mongolia, rain is actually looked upon as a good weather condition. The rain turns the grass green and that means food for the livestock. Rain is considered a good thing when it arrives. Mongolians actually like rain (verses our concept of "raining on the picnic"). So I guess they thought it an honor to call me rain - and thus they did all day long.
We shared their airag and goat meat - I shared my peanut and M&M trail mix. They liked the goat meat and the horse milk much better. Sometime after 3:00 PM it actually did begin to rain and I think they went to sleep off some of the day's celebration. After the rain cleared out, I climbed a nearby mountain and came back in time to eat some supper and crawl into my sleeping back before the next rain comes. It has been quite an interesting day. These folks have offered to give me a ride back to Tsetserleg tomorrow. I am quite pleased to have made their acquaintance.
(The view from the peak of the mountain <around 10,000 feet>. You can see the volcano in the foreground)
(Small man on the summit - Tsagaan Nuur behind, just prior to sunset)