A Trip in Mongolia - Impressions of Sara

This trip was made possible entirely by Wolfgang's ingenuity and persistence. He had found out about a meeting being held in spring in Vienna on Traditional Mongolian Medicine, and arranged for us to go. We met many wonderful representatives of the country at this time, including Dr. Tsevegsuran of the Mongolian National University. Since this meeting, he had kept contact with Dr. Tseveg (for short), and gradually arranged that we would make a botanical expedition in western Mongolia together, through numerous emails and calls.Our flight was taking off from Vienna, stopping in Moscow, Russia, and touching down in Ulaan bataar, Mongolia (the capital city). I guess I should have had a premonition of how the trip was going to go when we arrived at the airport and no one had heard of the airline (Mongolian Air....). It turned out we were flying the first leg with Austrian Airlines, although I gave a wistful look at my bags as I checked them in, not sure if I would see them again. During the next three weeks, Wolfgang and I would be traveling with two of our European colleagues and several Mongolian researchers, collecting plants in the mountains, steppes and on the edge of the Gobi Desert!

On the first flight, we heard primarily (and understandably) Russian spoken, although the flight announcements were given also in German and English (thank goodness!). We would be meeting up with our colleagues, Gabriel and Michael, in the airport (they had flown from Zurich, Switzerland). During the flight, Wolfgang and I practiced a few words and phrases in Russian, and I tried to memorize the Russian alphabet. The language of Mongolian is currently written in Russian characters (with two additional characters), so I felt this would be useful for reading during the trip. I was a bit discouraged, however, when my first attempt to order coffee (hideously expensive) in the Moscow airport met with uncontrolled laughter from the waitress.

The second plane was much smaller than I had expected, considering that we would be flying almost 8 hours further east, with space for about 90 passengers. The leg-room was minimal and there was little space under the seat for baggage. Wolfgang and I had brought our camping backpacks as carry-on, and when I asked the stewardess if stowing our bags would be a problem, she answered ""You will have problem. Me, I have no problem."" Hmmmmm. I had forgotten the unique sense of humor of Communists. So, we held our bags stuffed between and as far under our legs as possible for the flight, an action made possible by the fact that security concerns did not seem to be high on the list of stewardess priorities.

In fact, as we roared off the tarmac in Moscow, the rattling and shuddering of our plane reminded me of the line from Scotty in Star Trek IV, when the crew takes off in a stolen Romulan spacecraft, “Captain, she’s given all she can! She can’t take no more! She’s breaking apart!” We were sitting in a row with an 89-year old Mongolian woman, who was returning from a visit to Budapest. She patiently tried to teach us the numbers 1-10 in Mongolian, for nearly an hour, with limited success. This was our first experience with the unbelievable stoicism, humor and patience of the Mongolian people, but not the last.

As landed, brilliantly green rolling grassy landscapes (seemingly endless) with scattered herds of sheep and horses were visible. We had planned to spend a couple days in the capital city of Ulaan bataar (sometimes written ‘Ulan bator’), before beginning our field collections. The leader of our expedition, Dr. Tseveg, picked us up at the airport and transported us and all our gear in a 20-year old purple Russian van to our hotel. As we drove through the city, I was strongly reminded of our experience in Tbilisi, Georgia – rampant construction was going on everywhere, air pollution was high, roads were bad, and driving was an aggressive and competitive process.

The hotel was fascinating…opulent red-gold curtains, plasterwork with gold gilding (that reminded me of Austrian apartments!), beds as hard as rock, and a scarcity of hot water. Curious, we bopped down to one of the local grocery stores to see what was available. A dizzying array of products with labels in Russian, Japanese, Mongolian, Korean and English met our eyes, including many interesting fruits and vegetables (jujube fruits!), meat products (ground dried beef), cheese (dehydrated chunks of goat cheese), etc. (kilograms of mayonnaise in plastic sacks).

"We met the other members of our expedition in the afternoon: Dr. Tseveg’s wife, Saraa (emphasis on the last syllable); a fantastic botanist, Ayuna; our driver, Amraa; and two young botany students named Polter and Ankha. Communication will be interesting since Dr. Tseveg speaks German, Ayuna speaks some English, and the others speak Mongolian. Together, we stocked the trusty Russian van with all the supplies that we would need during the trip, as many products would be difficult or impossible to find during the expedition.

Our first stop was a valley only a few miles out of Ulaan bataar, called the Gortsch Protected Reserve, with rich meadows surrounded by steep forested slopes. A small stream ran through the valley, and the diversity of flowers found both in the moist meadows and on the slopes sent Wolfgang and I (as well as the others) into a botanical frenzy of note- and photo-taking. I lost count of the new plants that we saw after about an hour…if this is just a taste of what we will experience on the trip, it was all worth it!

Now, a step by step recital of the events and botanical findings during our trip would probably bore you to tears, so I thought instead it would be neat to just write a few notes for each day. Each day, we collected plants for Dr. Tseveg’s research, and the European group wandered about at each site identifying (or trying) the plants. Our friend, Michael, recorded GPS coordinates of the stops throughout the trip and took photos, and Gabriel took even more photos with his super-professional level digital equipment. You can see some of these photos posted on Gabriel’s ‘in progress’ website (email me if you want me to send you the link…it’s long). We’re hoping together to set up a website with all the data, in which case you can explore to your heart’s content. Until then, here is a sample of some of the experiences!

Traveling through mountain steppe, slopes covered with undulating lush grasses and sagebrush. Today, I learned these words in Mongolian – Narmantach = sunrise; Narjaerach = sunset; Solongh = rainbow (we saw one today!). Ayuna and Saraa fried up the sheep meat we had bought, heavily salted it, chopped it, and pounded it down into several emptied liter water bottles. This will serve as our meat supply for the next two weeks. There is no ice and no cooler, and I wonder what it will be like in two weeks… . Dinner is noodles, vegetables and meat chunks…delicious, and a meal that will reappear with many slight variations during the trip.

Polter is very keen on learning German. Since we’re packed next to each other in the van like sardines in a tin, we play a language-exchange game to pass the time while driving. Fortunately, he knows Latin letters, but I am embarrassed by my poor recall of the Russian letters, and we try to write the exchanged words out in the two languages for both his sake and mine. Reading and writing are both not easy on these roads, which are some of the worst I’ve ever been on…. I have a terrible time with a ‘ch’ sound that is almost swallowed in the back of the throat, and he has a rough time with ‘b.’

We visit the old capital of Mongolia, Erdene-zuu, which was first built in 1586. Buddhist temples were first established here in 1770, and stood until 1940, when they were destroyed during a cultural revolution. Now, they have been rebuilt and serve as a holy place for Mongolia’s Buddhist monks. We have heavy rain while setting up the tents, but afterward are rewarded by another rainbow!

We are entering what is called the Khangai mountain steppe environment. There are endless fields of feathergrass and rolling hills topped with forest (nearly all larch). When the road passes over a hill, at the high point stands a large pile of rocks, usually decorated with blue fabric strips. We stop the van and all people get out to walk around the mound three times, tossing a few rocks on the pile. This, explains Amraa, will protect our vehicle from damage and guarantee success on our journey. Some of the hills are covered with ridges of limestone (interesting plants!) and while exploring one of these, Wolfgang and I see our first Mongolian hedgehog!

Our first flat tire! We stop in a tiny town called Cercerlek City to get gas and fix the tire. Both of these are fascinating procedures. The gas is still pumped by hand via a crank on the back of the unit, and Polter and Ankha take turns cranking until both tanks on the van are filled. Amraa rocks the van violently during this process to make sure the gas is trickling properly down in the tanks (so he says). Fixing the tire is (one would think, from watching them work) a snap, as Amraa pries off the outer tire with a crowbar, patches the leak on the inner tube, pops the outer tire back on, and then the students use a hand pump to refill the tire. This requires at least 1000 pumping actions, and the students alternate at each 100 strokes. Whew!

I draw an illustration of what I am seeing in the landscape, and label everything in English and German, then asking Polter to supply the Mongolian. Therefore, today I find out that Mardh = horse; Tema = camel; Honh = sheep; Yama = goat; Mot = tree; and Nar = sun. I have great difficulty with the ‘o' sound, which has many subtle variations. For example, Os = water, Orsch = mountain and Oo-isch = cloud, but these all sound exactly the same to my ear! I get frustrated, but the Mongolians are endlessly patient....

Tonight, we are camping along a deep river gorge that looks like a miniature version of Bruneau Canyon in Idaho, with volcanic basalt...unbelievably beautiful!

This is a long day of driving, as we are trying to cross a long stretch of steppe and get closer to the mountains. We enter the Khorgo-Terkh National Park, which includes within its boundaries a small sea. Although there are several major rivers in Mongolia, accessible water is scarce, and we decide to take this opportunity to wash ourselves and our clothes. There is no cover of any kind within a mile of the lake, and the ladies wade into the water partially dressed. It's not possible, due to cultural restrictions, to undress entirely. Washing hair balancing precariously upside down from a rock gives this experience an adventurous aspect! Tonight we camp in a place with huge granite boulders scattered about (a little like City of Rocks). The view from the rocks is amazing...you can see down onto a vast river plain, scattered with several yurts (traditional Mongolian dwellings) and animal herds.

We're running low on drinking water and stop to collect some that will be boiled later for safety. The scarcity of water combined with the uncontrolled access of animal herds to the rivers and construction of human dwellings nearby has, unfortunately, resulted in the presence of cholera, giardia and other water-borne illnesses. The Mongolians generally only drink either milk products or boiled tea, for this reason. Dr. Tseveg has encouraged us to drink at least two shots of Russian or Mongolian vodka each night...at first I thought this was to keep us in good spirits, but it turns out that it has the effect of protecting the digestive system against disease, as well.We're in the mountains now, and seeing some of the most beautifully lush and flower-filled meadows I've ever experienced. Some of the flowering herbs are taller than me! The forests along the edge are poplar and larch...I'm keeping an eye out for bears.... There are still many wild wolves roaming in Mongolia!

This morning, we pass through a small town, where the proprietors of a local hotel allow us to recharge the digital camera batteries. Access to electricity is not always easy to find. We are soon traveling again through rich hills of steppe-forest, stopping occasionally to collect. The plants have been bundled up in a giant waterproof tarp on top of the van, and the students are responsible each night for lifting it down and spreading out the plants so they can air-dry...hard work!

In the afternoon, we visit one of the yurts. Dr. Tseveg wants to buy some yak butter and allow us to meet some local people. Inside, the single circular room is decorated with needle-craft wall hangings, Mongolian and Persian rugs, and wooden chests. One of the chests has several pictures of Buddha, along with a prayer roll and incense. A cylindrical metal stove, with a wok resting on top, stands in the center with a smokestack poking out through the ceiling. The people are very nice, and several wide-eyed children come to inspect the funny-looking guests! They are fascinated by the digital camera, and Gabriel succeeds in winning their hearts instantly by taking their pictures to show them....

We are offered fermented mare's milk (ayrac) and vodka (made from distilling milk), then later Mongolian noodles (with sheep meat). It is considered rude not to at least try the drink, and we touch the metal bowls to our lips before giving them back to our hosts. We have been warned by Dr. Tseveg to be careful of how much we drink, as we may have digestive problems due to the active wild yeast cultures in the fermented milk. I think that the milk vodka is horrible....but the yak butter is heavenly!

We are now heading south along the Khangai mountain range, heading toward a drier area of steppe known as the Gobi Altai (region near the Gobi Desert). The plants are changing, too, and my list of new plants seen grows longer and longer.... We stop in a town to recharge our supplies, and I am fascinated to see for sale: wild onions, honeysuckle berries (edible fruit), wild poppy flowers (medicinal tea), and gentian roots (medicinal tea). We also buy some fresh meat for cooking. The meat market is a large room with tables on each wall, behind which stands a woman who presents the meat openly on the table surface. In the center of the room, whole carcasses are hung, and several severed heads sit on the floor (to demonstrate the freshness of the meat). It's an eerie, but fascinating, experience...

Back in the van, Polter and I continue our lessons. I am ashamed. Polter can count to 100 in German, and I can barely make it to 10 in Mongolian! We are now starting to try to learn a few verbs...it snows...it rains...get out of the car.

We enter the Valley of Lakes region, a seemingly endless series of dry, rocky hills and grassland, interspersed with depressions that hold water during the rainy season. In the afternoon, we visited the small town of Gurlan bulag, which is where Saraa grew up. A small log elementary school stands in the town center, with bright blue (protection) painted windowframes. Nearby is a small park with stone statues of a horse, yak, sheep, camel, stag, and goat - these were used as patriotic symbols during the time of socialism, but now during the communistic era, are not supported. Ayuna says wistfully, ""They are going kaput.""

Today is an exciting day! We are driving to the yurts owned by Polter's extended family. He has not seen them for eight years, since the day that he left to live in Ulaan bataar in order to attend high school and college. When we arrive, we meet his grandfather, uncle, uncle's father-in-law, and several female relatives. Shortly before we had arrived, a storm had thundered through the valley, dumping a large amount of rain in the area. The soil had not been able to absorb the sudden deluge and had washed down to the yurts, flooding the inside of one with a foot of mud, but luckily missing the other. Since the yurts have hard-packed soil floors, when we arrived the whole family was engaged in digging out the mud.

Despite this, within a couple minutes of arriving, we were invited into the second yurt and offered Mongolian tea (boiled black tea with horse milk and salt, actually very thirst-quenching), milk vodka (ugh) and ayrac (the fermented mare's milk). We wanted to help somehow with the flood, but this was gently discouraged. We learned that the yurt that we were currently in was a new one, prepared for a couple who were to marry the next week. The construction of a new yurt (the supports are from larch) costs about the equivalent of 750 € or approximately $1000. This cost, in a land where a well-paying job may provide $200-250 per month, is considerable. The groom's father was a wiry, active gentleman who had been stationed as a general in the army in St. Petersburg, Russia, for quite some time.

While talking to this amazing man and the grandfather, another of the male relatives carried in a small television and VCR and connected it with wires to a car battery sitting nearby for energy. Pretty spiffy! After a dinner of Mongolian noodles (+ sheep meat) we lined up with our sleeping bags like a row of caterpillars and slept.

Polter's family wanted to sacrifice a sheep and prepare it for us in the traditional method before we continued on our journey. After the horses and yaks had been milked, a sheep was slaughtered, skinned, disemboweled and cut into pieces. This was an amazingly efficient procedure, with everything saved for later use, including the blood. While the men were preparing the sheep, one of the women was cutting a large chunk of sheep cheese into pieces by drawing a twisted horsehair cord through the chunk. These pieces would be placed on the roof of the yurt to dry for approximately 2 weeks, and later used as a handy, easily carried food item. They were hard as rock once cured, but very protein-rich. The children had collected pieces of dung in a twig basket earlier and a roaring fire had been started to build up a bed of coals.

The men rolled out a large old-fashioned metal milk canister and added about 3"" of water into it. Fist-sized rocks heated on the coals were tossed in to bring the water to a boil, and layers of meat, onions, and salt were added, with each layer adding more hot rocks. The general closed the can and rolled it strongly from side to side, provoking a strong hissing from within, and then rolled the whole thing on top of the coals. After half an hour, it was ready to eat! As the steamed meat was taken out, we were encouraged to hold some of the rocks that had been included in the cooking process...this would bring health and good luck.

As we left, it was with a certain measure of sadness, as we may never see some of these people again. That night, we came to the edge of the Gobi Altai, a broad reddish-sandy plain with rippling strands of grassland and jutting formations of igneous rock.

The semi-desert steppe along the edge of the Gobi Desert brought a whole new host of plants to identify and collect! Our bundle on top of the van was getting larger and larger (and harder for the students to lift down each evening). The land is dry, but very beautiful, reminding me a great deal of the sandy semi-desert steppe in Nevada. Salt lakes are frequently seen, as are artistic formations from sandstone in sunset colors. Along the drive, we see our first Mongolian marmot! Running across the steppe toward its burrow, this animal was so fat it seemed to undulate, rather than run.... The marmot was often hunted and eaten in earlier years, but decreasing population numbers caused the government to place a ban on hunting them. ?Both Wolfgang and I had been feeling steadily more unwell as the day advanced, and by late afternoon, we were struck with a full blown case of stomach illness. We had been quite concerned about this possibility and had taken care with what we had drunk and eaten during the trip, that everything liquid had been either chemically treated or thoroughly cooked, but either food poisoning or a foreign flu bug had obviously gotten us. We were pretty miserable for the rest of the day, although our hosts did everything possible to make us comfortable.

The illness, and the danger from dehydration, was increased by the heat, which was extreme here on the edge of the Gobi. The sun was so strong that we wore dampened towels under our sun hats to protect our heads, but I still had felt dizzy when out in the direct sun for more than 10 minutes during the past couple days. Ayuna made us drink boiled green tea continually, which was a good thing, since we dehydrated so quickly it was frightening. As Wolfgang and I lay on mats in the shade of the vehicle (the only shade available), Amraa came by and said something in Mongolian. I imagined it to be something along the lines of ""Should we bury the bodies here or haul them to the nearest town?"" To distract us from how cruddy we feel, I make up a song about the Mongolian Marmot to sing to Wolfgang.

So, we survived the night, and by the next day were on the road to recovery. Wolfgang thought that the sheep meat had poisoned us. I voted for a flu bug picked up from one of the many children we had met. Who knows? Advancing toward the edge of the Gobi, the landscapes grew drier and drier, and the road more treacherous to stop along due to the deep sand. At one point, we stopped on a large flat plain of desert pavement...nothing to see in miles in any direction, except the road and a comforting line of electricity poles. We designated one side of the van for girls and one for boys, for restroom purposes, since there were no shelter opportunities. Even so, the other two women, Ayuna and Saraa, walked almost 10 minutes to make their forms less visible out of modesty...I thought I would explode! Once again, I am impressed by the patience of the Mongolians.

Amraa displayed his considerable driving skills as he negotiated an 18 km stretch of continous sand dunes (one of the largest in Mongolia), wending through huge clumps of feathery grasses and spiny shrubs. I was considerably relieved to see the camping place!

We start out the day by exploring a series of sand dunes with sand of a brilliant yellow-orange color. Wild onions and several small dandelion-relatives are found tucked away in small niches. Camel dung, looking like small white-gray golf balls, is spotted! All around the perimeter of the dunes are shrubs called greasewood with incredibly hard, sharp twigs. We discover just how sharp when, on our way out, the twigs puncture first one......then a second......and a third....of our tires. One after another. For each of these punctures, Amraa and the two students perform the operation described on July 30th. One of the most amazing memories is of Amraa getting out of the vehicle upon the third flat tire, looking at the tire, and just laughing!

We are very grateful to emerge from the dunes, the beauty of which has now taken on a rather sinister aspect.

On this morning, in addition to the normal routine of breakfast, spreading out plants to dry for a few hours, and searching for more plants to add to the collection, we spend a couple hours recovering from last night's storm. We had stopped on a flat steppe area between two low mountain chains, as it was quite late. I could tell that Amraa and Dr. Tseveg were not happy about the site, but it was too dangerous to continue on the roads that night. Around 11 p.m., after a strange period of muggy, hot stillness in the air, a storm rolled in with ferocious speed. A high whine filled the air, and I had the sense of something rushing at us. Then, huge gusts of wind hit the tent, seemingly out of nowhere, with such force that it nearly flattened to the ground.

Within seconds, the tent was filled with fine sand particles that had been blown in through the mesh. I struggled to closed the main door flap while Wolfgang held down the corners of the tent. I could hear yells from Michael and Gabriel's tent, and hoped that they and the others were doing ok. Just as suddenly, a period of dead calm fell. The air was so hot and still that it was nearly unbearable in the tent. These gusts and calm periods continued for the next hour or so. I put in earplugs to keep sand out of my ears and try to snatch some sleep, but the next morning was still trying to remove grit from between my teeth. The only casualty turned out to be a broken pole on Ayuna's tent....

Today, we headed again north away from the Gobi and re-entered the desert-steppe region, discovering several beautiful meadow grasslands and many plants!

This was our second to last official day in Mongolia, and was a strenuous one for Amraa, since it required long, hard driving over first dirt, and finally paved roads headed toward Ulaan bataar. The paved roads were worse than the dirt roads due to numerous, deep potholes and cracking in the pavement. Semi-trucks and other vehicles often raced along on dirt frontage roads that had been carved along the highway, passing each other at death-defying speeds. At some point, however, it became more and more difficult to change gears, and Amraa said we needed to switch out the flywheel. He happened to have a spare in the van. Of course.

This was an amazing operation to watch. While we sat on the grassy verge of the highway, far back to avoid getting run over by crazed truck drivers, Amraa and the two students proceeded to remove the transmission and repair it with just a few tools. Polter went under first and detached the bolts holding the linkage struts. When they unscrewed the gear box, Amraa got directly under it with his canvas jacket on his stomach and balanced it on his stomach until he could roll it to the ground.It was so heavy that Wolfgang and I together couldn't even budge it! Switch out the flywheel, roll and lift the gear box, tighten-tighten-tighten on the bolts and we were on our way again. Absolutely amazing.

We arrived in the capital and were dropped off at our hotel again. It was a strange thing to take a shower, and bliss that there was hot water! I had seen one toilet during the trip (at a restaurant), and it seemed weird now to go to the bathroom in a ceramic bowl&hellip. We went out for a beer at an Irish Pub (!) with Ayuna and her husband, who is one of the senior experts with the Mongolian Research Organization for Petroleum and Minerals.

The end... of our travels around Mongolia...sort of. It was difficult to part from this group of people, with whom we had shared such a wonderful experience! Believe it or not, we were 10 people crammed together in a van under rough conditions for more than two weeks, and we never conflicted with one another. The whole group saw us off at the railway station on August 11th, and I was very sad to realize that I did not know when, or even if, I would ever see them again.

We traveled by the Trans-Siberian Railway from Ulaan-bataar to Beijing, China - a trip that took more than 24 hours and carried us through the beautiful southern Gobi Desert region. The camels in herds turned in unison to watch the train pass. We were all so tired and so full of Mongolian experiences that this portion of the trip passed in a strange blur. There were some memorable experiences, such as seeing many herds of camel roaming the desert; being stuck at the Chinese border station for five hours while they changed the rail-width on the carriages (without access to bathrooms the whole time...this was inhuman torture); and transferring to a sleek, modern train at Jin-ning, which made the sound of a huge heartbeat as it moved over the rail sections.

We spent two days touring Beijing with an Austrian friend of ours, who works in China and had come to meet us at the West Beijing Station. If it had not been for his help and knowledge of Chinese, we would have had a difficult time finding our way out the station, much less catching a taxi or locating a hotel room. During the next days, we visited the famous Wangfujing Jie shopping district and the Forbidden City. It was all fascinating, but I found myself missing the open grasslands and friendly people of Mongolia in this teeming city of 22 million people.

So, coming back to Graz and our cats and apartment and work was a strange reverse-culture shock...simultaneously relieving and mundane. The cats were happy to see us and the remaining months of 2006 have passed quietly, the days filled with small adventures at work, experimental cooking, play in our garden, and some small weekend trips in Austria and Germany. It has been an exciting, fruitful and endlessly fascinating year...I am continually grateful to have been given a life that has such endless opportunities for learning and exploring!