This is an article I wrote after a trip to Mongolia. Unfortunately, Mongolia is not a destination that caught the imagination of travel magazines, so it wasn't published (though I have since published a major article on Mongolia in the Food Cultures of the World Encyclopedia and regularly do slide shows on Mongolia, so I know some folks are interested). If you want to see a few photos and maybe even try a recipe for hushuur, you can find those by visiting my food and travel blog— http://www.theworldsfare.org — and searching for Mongolia.
The original article follows.
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There was a time when, if you wanted to evoke the idea of the ends of the earth, of lands so remote that no news of the outside world could be heard, you might invoke the name “Outer Mongolia.” Even after I learned that such a place really existed, visiting certainly seemed impossible. However, since the fall of Communism, visiting Mongolia is not impossible. But it’s still not easy.
Actually, it’s not that hard to get to the country’s capital, Ulaanbaatar (often called U.B. by locals). Hop a plane to Beijing, catch a two-hour flight to U.B. (which will probably be late), and you’re in Mongolia. (What was once called Outer Mongolia is now simply Mongolia, Inner Mongolia having been subsumed by China.)
U.B. is surprising in that it’s not really an Asian city. It’s a Russian city. Grand scale and classical architectural elements reflect the imperial dreams of Mongolia’s long-time Communist rulers, at least in the important buildings at downtown’s heart. At the city’s periphery, the influence is seen in the grim, blocky, crumbling Soviet-era housing. However, the city is in transition, and boasts several modern, elegant, Western-style buildings, including a few lovely hotels, with construction sites promising more of the same. International cuisine is also beginning to appear in U.B., from a Viennese pastry shop to a number of Korean restaurants (but no Macdonald’s—they voted against it).
Only a few Chinese or Tibetan temples show a connection with Asia. However, the connection with the rest of Mongolia is immediately evident, as the older residential area of the city is largely made up of gers, the round, felt-covered tents of the country’s nomad population. (Ger is pronounced to rhyme with air, sort of, but leaning slightly toward gear.)
Outside of U.B., Mongolia becomes both more difficult and more Mongolian. It is a land that is defined, and defines itself, by horses, riders, and open spaces. The ruggedness, the mountains rising at the edges of every vast plain, the ubiquity of riders on horses, the feeling that the sky is immensely bigger than the land, plus Mongolia’s position at the top of Asia, makes one feel that this is sort of an Asian version of Montana, but with the cowboys carrying bows and arrows.
There are few paved roads, so most driving is over whatever this rugged, rocky land throws at you. The jeeps we rode in were Russian, which our guide explained were designed to be reliable, but with no consideration of the fact that humans would ride inside. But while comfort was missed, mountains, desert, and the seemingly endless steppe made reliability very appealing.
Our first trip was north, to Lake Khuvsghul, which is connected to Russia’s Lake Baikal. We flew in a Russian plane that surprised us by surviving our landing on a rough open field. A jeep and driver awaited us (there were three of us, all women, traveling together, plus our Mongolian guide), and we were off across grassy hill, rugged mountain, and rock-strewn river bed. In a couple of hours, we reached a ger camp perched on the edge of the glorious, deep, incredibly clear lake. (We lived in gers, which are surprisingly comfortable, whenever we were not in U.B.) Mountains rose up around us, some barren, some heavily wooded. It was a place of remarkable beauty.
