Mongolia is one of those places that rearranges you. Not gently. What to pack in your head before you land in Ulaanbaatar.
Nomin Batbayar
Mongolia is one of those places that rearranges you. Not gently. A country the size of Western Europe, home to three million people, most of whom still move with their animals when the season turns. You do not arrive in Mongolia. You arrive into it.
First, the sky. They do not call it the Eternal Blue for nothing. It sits above you like the lid of a blue bowl and stays there from June to September. The daylight lasts until almost eleven in the summer. You will adjust to this within two days and never again be satisfied with the sky at home.
Eight hours of driving can cover one valley. Four days can cover half the country. The itinerary your guide built for you is a guideline, not a clock. If a ger family invites you in for milk tea on day three, you go in. That is the whole point.
Boiled mutton, airag, khuushuur, buuz. It is not fusion cuisine and it is not trying to be. What it is, is the food that keeps nomad families alive in winter. Eat it with the family that made it, and you will understand something about the country that a guidebook cannot give you.
You will not hear a car after dark in most places. You will hear horses cropping grass fifty metres away. You will hear the wind move over the felt walls of your ger like a hand over fabric. You will hear your own thoughts in a way you have not heard them in years.
The Mongolian word for guest is zochin. In the nomadic code, every zochin is sacred. You are fed first, given the warm side of the fire, and offered the first cup of tea. This is not theatre for travellers. It is how families have lived here for thirty centuries.
Come prepared for cold nights, even in summer. Come ready to have plans interrupted by weather, animals, and invitations. Come with an open calendar for two or three days longer than you think you need. Mongolia will do the rest.