It's a draw. A herder's Tibetan mastiff dog "trees" a raven. Near Hustai National Park, Sept. 2006
I just finished Henning Haslund’s marvelous book “Tents In Mongolia”. As mentioned in a previous post, he was a keen observer who was fascinated by everything about the Mongols and their culture. He also seemed to be able to put aside his cultural biases much better than many of his contemporaries and describe what he saw with no moralizing and a minimum of judgment and off-the-cuff interpretation. For example (his spelling of Mongol words was clearly his best guess and was not consistent, which is why the word for “raven” is spelled two different ways):
“A pair of screaming ravens sailed over our heads towards the valley in the south, and this had an encouraging effect on Batar (his Mongol traveling companion), since the black khiltai shobo , “talking birds”, as the Mongols call them, conducted themselves in a manner which satisfied him.
“The ravens play for the Mongols a like important role as they did in the ancient north of Odin. The black widely-traveled birds are equipped with keen intelligence and are able to understand human speech. It is vouchsafed to certain favoured human beings to understand the ravens’ language, for ravens have a language, and these favoured human beings can acquire unbelievable wisdom and learning by listening to the communications of the sagacious birds.”
There are also a few pages of interesting notes in the back of the book:
Kiltai shobo, “the talking bird”, as the Mongols call the raven, may bring the traveller good or ill omen. Some of the auguries attributed to the bird are:
If a raven crosses you in its flight from left to right, the omen is good; if from right to left, it is evil.
If a raven croaks behind you when you are on your way, the omen is good.
If it flaps its wings and croaks, you are approaching great danger.
If it pecks at its feathers with its beak and croaks, it signifies death.
If it pecks food and croaks at the same time, you will find food for yourself and your horse on the journey.
If many ravens gather at sunrise, it signifies difficulties on the journey.
If a raven croaks at sunrise it foretells a fortunate journey during the day and that you are about to reach your goal.
I’m currently about 60 pages into what is already one of the best travel books on Mongolia that I’ve read. Henning Haslund went to Mongolia with a number of fellow Danes in the early 1920s to establish a farming and mining colony in the north not far from Khosvol Nuur. “Tents In Mongolia” is his account of that journey. It was re-printed by Adventures Unlimited Press in 1995 and retitled “Secret Mongolia”.
Henning has already demonstrated a flair for observation, so I thought that I would share this wonderful description of his and the party’s first personal contact with a Mongol in Mongolia. I really wish I had been there.
“Suddenly the caravan dogs gave tongue….Down a long slope to the eastward, a billowing cloud of dust was rolling towards us…..One, two, three, four, five riders galloped out of the dust and- we were completely disarmed.
“A sunburnt girl with a smile as fresh as a steppe morning reined in her fiery steed before our shamefacedly lowered rifle barrels. Her teeth were pearly white, her eyes as clear as day, her smile disarming, her grip on the reins strong and her movements in the saddle full of grace. She was a daughter of Mongolia, she was herself the free, wild, captivating steppe.
“She was dressed in bright-colored silks, and when she moved there was a ringing of silver and a rattling of precious stones. She shone with the joy of living, and her demeanor bore witness to pride and noble birth. Over her forehead she wore a wide, massive silver band in which were set five large pale red corals. From this diadem half a dozen small chains of coral hung down to the boldly curved and sharply drawn black eyebrows that marked her race. From the sides of the diadem and from her ears hung chains of silver ornaments and strings of corals, pearls and turquoises which fell jingling over her small strong shoulders. Her hair was kept in check by a coral-studded black veil, fastened behind by a jewelled sliver diadem.
Coral necklace, Museum of National History, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
“Her long robe was of pale blue silk, and over it she wore a short, sleeveless waistcoat of crimson brocade in which were interwoven dim symbols of fortune and long life. The waistcoat was fastened in front with golden laces attached to buttons of chased silver.
“Her cloak reached to her knees where it met her long black velvet riding boots. Her small, neat feet were shod in boots whose elegance was enhanced by the sharply unturned toes. Her hands were strong, but small and shapely. Her fingers were studded with coral ornaments and heavy silver rings, and thick bracelets clashed upon her wrists.”
It’s been too long since I’ve presented any Mongol poetry. It’s another aspect of their culture that is almost unknown to westerners, even though examples survive from over 800 years ago.
If you would like to learn about and read more poetry, visit previous posts here and here and here.
This one has a subject dear to the heart of pretty much every Mongol…horses:
The stories of my people soar with horses, With wings they reach the golden sun. The wind riffs through their untrimmed manes, And, down the skyroad of Khormast, They return to the lake like migrating birds, According to the customs of the golden earth. The poems of the elders soar with horses, With wings they reach the vibrant stars. From the herds of letters formed within the month, We have taken these migrating steeds. And, from the hitching posts of our poets’ horses, We have taken off for distant roads. My horse, fly high, oh my horse, Fly high, into the worlds of my desire. From our wise elders’ heights of brilliance, I offer my song to the spacious earth. My horse, fly high, oh my horse, Fly high, into the worlds of my desire.
By Ochirkhuu (1943-2001), translated by Simon Wickham-Smith
As I wrote last week, we had decided to leave the Ganchen Lama Monastery at Erdenesogt and go on to the Shargaljuut Mineral Springs Resort. Our route took us up a beautiful valley of green hills, gers and…yaks!
Domestic Mongolian yak
Mostly they were just wandering around grazing in small groups, but we also happened upon a young boy carrying out his herding duties.
Yak herding
The herder’s gers were scattered along the river which wound through the valley. We were, by now, well off the usual tourist routes, traveling on what Khatnaa said were “local roads”. Indeed. We were almost the only moving vehicle I’d seen all day.
Setting up housekeeping, Mongol-style
Khatnaa stopped at a number of gers as we moved up the valley, including the one below, to ask directions. The situation we’d found ourselves in was that the recent storms, which caused the flooding of the rivers down south in the Gobi, had also washed out a number of bridges in the mountains and therefore, to get to our next destination, we would have to retrace a lot of our previous route back south down the valley, then do a 70km loop to the north where the resort was located. Since one can often only travel a distance of around 100km in a day, this was a long detour. He had been told at one point, however, that there was an alternate, more direct route. We pulled up to what turned out to be one last ger and Khatnaa got out and spoke with the herders.
Ger we stopped at before the fun began
He got back in the car, turned to me, smiled and said something I’ll remember for as long as I have two brain cells to rub together, “Now we will go on very local roads”. He turned the car to the east and headed up a slope that looked no different than any of the others that we had passed.
Looking up at the "very local road"
We went higher and higher, leaving the river valley far below. There was definitely an earth road, more like an earth trail actually, but it sure didn’t look like it got much use. Was I having fun yet? You bet!
Tuy Gol valley, looking back toward the direction from which we came
Up and up we went, passing interesting rock formations, until we reached Hujirt Pass which, of course, had a ovoo.
Ovoo on Hujirt Pass
We now started going down, down, down, surrounded by wonderful scenery. There had been storm clouds to the west and north most of the day, but the weather was fine along our route. No problem, right? Well…..
Coming down out of the mountains, looking north
We reached the river valley and I could see the road we hadn’t taken on the other side. Then I spotted something I’d never seen in Mongolia…wild iris. I asked Khatnaa to stop and jumped out to take some photos.
Wild iris
In less than a minute, he leaned out and told me that I must get back into the car and when I had, explained that the rain we saw in the distance could cause the river to rise very quickly and that we had to get across it. Now.
When there's no bridge available....
And, as it turned out, there wasn’t just one channel to cross, but three or four. I kind of lost count.
The final water crossing. Our destination is in the distance. Notice the grey Russian fergon van on the road, middle right
Picking his spot, Khatnaa got the Land Cruiser up onto the road and we continued on to the mineral resort as it got darker and the wind started to kick up.
Shargaljuut Mineral Springs resort; well-known in Mongolia
Although this was a camping trip, Khatnaa decided that, for this night at least, we would see if we could stay in the ger camp. He was concerned about the storm and how high the water might get. No argument from me, that was for sure.
We were able to get two gers, one for me to stay in and one for Khatnaa and Soyoloo that also doubled as our “kitchen” and “dining room”. It was a pretty wild and rainy night, but the next morning was fine. And, to our amusement, we found that the Rimpoche we had decided not to worry about seeing at the Gachen Lama Museum was staying at the resort!
View from the ger camp, looking up the valley; thermal springs are on the left side of the river, reachable by a foot bridge
We still never got to see him since it turned out that he skipped breakfast and left early for the monastery, but I did end up having a nice chat with a Mongol man who had called out to me in perfect California English “Where are you from?” when I stepped out of my ger with a cup of coffee. It turned out that he was a famous wrestler who had retired with the rating of Garuda and was now a businessman living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Khatnaa knew who he was and, of course, we had to have our picture taken with him. He was on vacation, he said, and was volunteering as a driver for the Rimpoche and his entourage.
The next great thing that happened was that we got to take our first showers since we were at the Onglyn valley in the Gobi. We had to wait our turn in the very busy sanitarium, but it was worth it. If there were any other Westerners anywhere around, I never saw them. Just the way I like it.
Before we left, we walked across the bridge and explored the thermal area. The different springs have different mineral content and are used to treat specific ailments, some physical, some mental. One consults a doctor before beginning treatment.
Thermal area
Our departure from Shargaljuut was much less eventful than our arrival. A short way down the road, though, we came across evidence of how powerful the storm run-off from the mountains can be. Just to the left is the “detour” across the now dry riverbed.
Badly damaged bridge; other pieces were strewn around nearby
Here is what it would have looked like before the flood. All but a couple of the bridges I’ve crossed in my travels have been built this way, out of logs and lumber.
Intact bridge
Where were we going next? I had no idea, but I knew it would be worth the trip, so I simply kicked back and enjoyed the scenery.
While our original intent had been to spend two nights at Orog Nuur, the combination of heat, mosquitos and there being very few birds around in the morning caused us to decide that we would travel on north instead.
After having lunch on the north side of the lake, where we did see some shorebirds and demoiselle cranes, we worked our way through heavy vegetation on a really rough earth road to get to the main route to Bogd, a soum center, where we re-filled our water containers from the local well.
Shorebirds, Orog NuurDemoiselle cranes, Orog Nuur
Then it was up and away from the Gobi toward the Hangai Mountains, another part of Mongolia that I had never seen before.
Ovoo with a Soyambu, the National Symbol of Mongolia; very unusual
We stopped for the night a short way off the road, after having passed through three changes in vegetation as we went up in elevation. It was cold and windy, quite a change from our previous campsite by the lake, but I slept well.
Upland campsite, with visitor
The next morning we drove into Bayanhongor, an aimag center which was quite a substantial town. We trekked around town buying petrol, eggs, bread and meat. It was an energetic, busy place which had nice tarmac paving in the central area.
Bayanhongor comes into view, backed by the Hangai MountainsHorse-drawn water delivery service, Bayanhongor
On the way out of town we found that the road Khatnaa wanted to take was washed out by the recent flooding. Consultations with a number of locals ensued and an alternate route was found. And what a route it was!
Perfect scene- an earth road leading deep into the Mongolian countrysideTuy Gol valleyTuy Gol valleyYaks, horses and gers; it must be Mongolia!
Our destination was the soum center of Erdenetsogt, home to the Gachen Lama Monastery, neither of which I had ever heard of, much less knew anything about. The soum center was typical, except for the lovely setting above the Tuy Gol. The monastery was anything but, as you will see below.
This is one of the most jaw-droppingly beautiful buildings I have ever seen. And what makes it almost unbearably poignant is that it is the sole surviving structure, other than the entry gate, that is left on the site from the destruction of the monasteries that took place in the late 1930s. There were originally ten temples.
The entry gateGachen Lama Monastery, old temple
But today the monastery is alive again and it was bustling with activity when we were there in anticipation of a visit the next day by a prominent Tibetan Rimpoche (teacher), who was going to preside over the dedication of two new statues that were to be installed in the new temple next door, which was built in 1990, making it the 20th anniversary celebration.
Temple porch with the two new statues
The old temple was filled with people, many of them elderly women wearing beautiful brocade del. Upon entering, we found that they were preparing hundreds and hundreds of printed Buddhist sutras which were to be placed in the statues. There was a real assembly line going. Some monks were rolling the small strips of paper up very tightly. These were handed to the women who then wrapped them in sewing thread. After a few minutes of watching, Soyoloo reached down, picked up three of the rolled sutras and handed one each to Khatnaa and I, keeping one for herself. Then she got us each of spool of thread. Suddenly we weren’t on-lookers anymore, but participants, truly a gift. We each conscientiously wrapped our sutra and added it to the growing stack. Amazing to think that I’ve left a little bit of me in such a special place.
Preparing for the RimpocheOne of the two statuesThe new temple, just past the row of prayer wheels
As an artist, the temple was pure eye-candy, being covered with a riot of decorative carvings and paintings on almost every surface. Stylistically it is probably mostly Tibetan, with some Nepalese influence. I’m posting most of the best images I took because when I googled the monastery, I got no hits at all and this place is too special to not share.
Peacock detail,, old templeUnknown deity or creature, old templeElephant at corner; for strength- old templeOne corner of old temple; the fretwork gives this large building a delicate, airy feelingGachen Lama Monastery; the old temple
After we left the monastery grounds, we walked toward the river to see the seven stupas which overlook the river valley.
Three of the stupas; cue Jantsannarov’s “White Stupa No. 1”
This seems to be one of the most beloved pieces of music in Mongolia. I love it, too.
We debated whether to stop here for the night in the hope of seeing the Rimpoche the next day. But we really had no idea when he would arrive and were a little uncomfortable being conspicuous as the only non-locals around, so chose to travel on. And that resulted in one of my favorite parts of the entire trip.
I think that in order to communicate with some immediacy one single day that had enough incident for three, I’m going to simply quote my journal entry for July 15, adding images as needed.
“What an amazing day. Went south-west with Orog Nuur as our goal. Khatnaa knew there was the Taatsin Gol to cross, so stopped at a petrol station to ask about it. Also there were two van loads of Mongols from Togrog who were heading west to mine for gold. Usual Mongol socializing and information exchange ensued.
A third van showed up and all headed towards the river, which was flooded due to rains in the Hangai Mountains.
Assessing the situation
We got across one stream, but were stopped by a broad ribbon of streams and mud. The main channel was moving fast and pulsing with even more water.
Went back up to the bluff overlooking the river and had lunch, watching the three van loads of Mongols look for a way across and mess around in the water.
Lunchtime for us
Went back down to the river. Khatnaa walked a long way to see if he could find a crossing point, but came back and told us that the last stream of water was the worst of all. So we were faced with going north 100 km to the closest bridge. Such is travel in Mongolia.
Suddenly, there was action with one of the vans. A bunch of guys had formed a line across one point of the main channel and the van charged into the water, started to stall, but the guys all got behind it and pushed it on through!
First van crosses the river
Well, if a van could make it, our big Land Cruiser certainly could and did, without even needing a push. We did end up with an extra passenger, a little eej (mother) who wasn’t about to miss her chance to ride in our big car.
Our turn. Halfway across.
We got out on the other side and I photographed the other two vans making the crossing. Then said our good-byes.
Third van goes into the river.
We followed one van up a soft sand slope. It promptly got stuck so we rolled back down and went around it and on up the hill.
The entire “adventure” of the river crossing was a perfect example of Mongol practicality, improvisational skills and good humor. No one at any point got angry, showed frustration or swore. When it looked like things had stalled out, the guys took a break and goofed around in the water. Or so it seemed. They were clearly having fun but they were, in retrospect, also searching for a crossing point.
The spot they found was one where the channel wasn’t too wide or deep and where they felt the bottom was solid enough for a vehicle to get across with a minimal chance of getting stuck.
Without winches, cables or even rope, they simply used the same solution they always do – push.”
——
Once across, we were really able to roll for awhile on good earth roads.
At this point we knew that the lake, Orog Nuur, was 2/3 full and that the river flowing into it was impassible due to run-off from the mountains. But we had also been told that there was a road on the opposite side of the lake.
Khatnaa spotted a ger and drove over to it. I usually just stay in the car while he asks directions, but his time he gestured me to get out and said “Let’s visit.”
We ended up spending around two hours with Batsuuri and his family.
When we entered their large, comfortable ger, the first thing I noticed was two boys sitting on the floor watching Star Wars:The Phantom Menace on a small flat screen tv. Batsuuri was sitting on the floor, a couple of older girls were going in and out and Javhlan, his wife, was just starting, I found out later, to make suutai tsai (milk tea). I’ve drunk a fair amount of it by this time, but had never seen it made before.
A bowl of small squares of fried bread and sugar cubes was placed in front of us. The movie ended and the two boys, both Mongol but one had blond hair, started playing with a bunch of nails they had pulled out of a bag. I watched them happily amuse themselves for over half an hour, arranging the nails in various patterns and finally using a closely lined up row of them as a little hammered dulcimer.
At one point a wrestling competition came on the tv and I knew that we were going to be staying for awhile because Khatnaa is a BIG wrestling fan.
Javhlan asked if we would like to try camel milk airag. We all said yes. It was delicious, of course.
As we sat, and Khatnaa and Soyoloo chatted with our hosts (Besides camels, they have about 300 other animals. They lost 10-15 in the zud, nothing, really.), Javhlan made a meal of rice with meat in it and we ended up having dinner with the family.
Then it was time for her to milk the camels. They have 40 camels, seven of which had babies. So I found myself with another amazing photo opportunity.
Javhlan milking one of the camels
I was wearing one of (local Humboldt County artist) Bekki Scotto’s hand-dyed rayon t-shirts and had Khatnaa take some pictures of me standing in front of the camels. I think Bekki will like that.
Soyoloo, our great cook, and I
Once the milking was over it was time to leave, but it turned out that there is more than one road around the lake. Batsuuri offered to take us part of the way on his motorbike. Khatnaa provided petrol from a jerry can he had in the car. They had almost finished syphoning when who should pull up but one of the three vans! They had taken the main road to the river, found it flooded and had come back to the only ger for miles to find out if there was an alternate route, so Batsuuri showed them the way also. Once he’d gotten us to the correct road, we waved goodbye and drove on into a large saxaul forest, much of which was in light, almost white, sand. Many stops for pictures. And berries!
Batsuuri shows us the way around the lakeThe saxaul forestEdible berries in the Gobi
Finally we could see the lake, Orog Nuur, in the distance. The passing clouds were creating gorgeous spotlite areas on the mountain range to our left.
Ikh Bogd UulRuddy shelducks, Orog Nuur
We made one more quick stop at a herder’s ger and then found a track down to the lake. We parked, got out, walked down to the shore and Khatnaa announced that we had arrived at “bird heaven”. Indeed. The shoreline had birds from one end to the other. The lake edge had even more mosquitos. I observed that it looked like we had also arrived at “mosquito heaven”, which Khatnaa thought was pretty funny.
But we sure weren’t going to be able to camp there. So we moved away far enough to be out of the worst of it, put on insect repellent that Soyoloo had handy and set up camp.
My tent with Orog Nuur in the background
It ended up being cook’s night off since we were all pretty full from the meal at Batsuuri’s. Lunch had been a delicious white fish from Khovsgol Nuur. We all had some leftover fish with rice and a few cookies and we were fine.
In the meantime, the mosquitos were getting pretty annoying. We had no netting, so , once again, Mongol ingenuity rode to the rescue. Khatnaa went out and gathered a small bag of animal dung which he piled up and set smoking with a small blowtorch. We put our chairs in its path. Problem solved. Until the breeze kept changing direction. Soyoloo came up with a brilliant solution. She turned a metal flat-bottomed bowl upside down and had Khatnaa got a small dung fire burning on it, which meant that instead of moving our chairs to stay in the smoke, we simply moved the smoke. We dubbed it our “nomadic dung fire”.
Setting the dung smokingThe Nomadic Dung Fire
We sat until dark, watching a lightning storm across the lake from us, a spectacular sunset to the north and listening to the Javhlan CD I’d brought from UB, finishing off the last of the bottle of Chinggis Gold vodka and chatting about all kinds of things. A perfect ending to a perfect day.”
This time I finally did something I’ve been wanting to do in Ulaanbaatar for my last couple of trips to Mongolia – sketch on location.
I got started right away since I had a couple of hours before I left for the countryside on July 10, having arrived on July 8. The Naadam celebrations had begun at Sukhbaatar Square, so I walked over from my hotel and did this page of quick studies.
Naadam 2010, Sukhbaatar Square
Back in UB after the camping trip, I met up with a new Mongol friend I had originally connected with on Facebook and we spent part of a morning at Gandan Monastery. It was fun to have a sketching buddy. He hadn’t drawn since high school, but must have still remembered something, because he immediately turned out some nice work.
I got an interesting comment on the stupa drawing. An older man came by, looked at what I was doing and told me, through my friend, that there HAD to be nine smaller stupa shapes below the main one. I couldn’t really explain that I simply couldn’t see them from the angle at which I was sitting, so just had to let him walk off in a minor huff.
Stupa, Gandan Monastery
There are a number of these big (close to 8′ high) incense burners around the Monastery grounds. Visitors circle them while trailing a hand along the surface.
Large bronze incense vessel, Gandan Monastery
After I returned from the countryside, I went back to Sukhbaatar Square and sketched some of the buildings. The Palace of Culture is one of my favorites. The top of the tower is metallic gold and sparkles beautifully in the sunshine.
The Palace of CultureMongolia Telecom
I started to draw some attention at this point, particularly from a nice young man who wanted to practice his English, and had to give it up. Yes, that’s a giant Coke bottle on the left hand side of the building.
I also went back to Gandan Monastery for another morning of sketching. This time I tried adding some color with my water-soluble colored pencils.
Gandan Monastery
The preceeding sketches were all done in a small Strathmore premium recycled sketchbook. But I also wanted to experiment with working on location on toned paper. These were done during the second stint at Gandan Monastery and also at the Museum of the Chojin Lama. I never do architecture, really, so it was a challenge to try to keep things in reasonably decent perspective. On the other hand, unlike animals, the buildings, at least, don’t move.
Gandan Monastery templeMuseum of the Chojin Lama temple gate
Next Friday, I’ll post more drawings, this time from the journal that I kept during the trip. Dogs, dinosaurs, the desert and…..
Leaving Baga Gazriin Chuluu meant that I was now traveling south into a part of Mongolia that I had never been to and really knew very little about. Perfect.
Our first stop was in the soum center of Erdenedalay, home of the Gempildarjaalin Monastery, which was built in 1910. The main temple survived the destruction of the late 1930s and there are now ten monks in residence.
Our road then continued out across the Gobi. The landscape was rolling and surprisingly green. We could see a storm front with rain off to our right.
Earth road in the Gobi
Our final destination for the day was the river valley of the Onglyn Nuur (River), which is also home to the ruins of Onglyn Monastery.
Onglyn Nuur valley
Khatnaa and I went for a birding walk in the early evening and saw some hoopoes, one of the most elusive birds to get close-up photos of.
Hoopoe
The next morning we walked the short distance to the monastery ruins, which were actually two separate establishments, one founded by a prominent lama in the 1760 and the other by one of his students in 1800.
Tourist ger camp with ruins behind it on the hillside
They were two of the largest monasteries in Mongolia, capable of housing up to 1000 monks. All the buildings were destroyed in 1937. Two hundred monks were killed. Many were put to work for the communist government. Some escaped by becoming farmers.
Ruins with sacred spring
A new, small temple has been built and there are now some monks in residence at the site again. There are also ambitious plans to re-build a major temple.
Small temple interiorThe main altar
Not far from the temple is a ger which houses a small museum of artifacts that have been recovered from the ruins. I found it very poignant. So much beauty, wantonly destroyed.
Decorative stone work recovered from ruinsWood beam with raised decorationKhatnaa speaking with the museum host
On a happier note, we stopped in at the Secret of Onglyn ger camp and Khatnaa arranged for us to take real showers! It being the morning and the water being heated via a solar system, they were going to be cool, not hot, but it really felt good to remove a few layers and get my hair washed.
Back on the road, the green had disappeared and become the almost bare, gravelly ground that the Gobi is known for. We also drove up and over rock formations that reminded me a little of those at Ikh Nartiin Chuluu.
Rocky upland area
In the late afternoon, we stopped at a town called Guichin Us to re-fill our water containers from the well. This became a regular feature of the trip, stopping at a local well for water, which Soyoloo then boiled so that we could use it for drinking.
Water refill from a town well
We drove a few kilometers out of town, onto the open plain and stopped for the night. One of the remarkable things to me was the spots that Khatnaa often chose for campsites. He almost never sought out a sheltered spot of any kind. What seemed to matter was having a slight slope so that if it rained, the water wouldn’t gather under the tents. So here’s my tent out in the “middle of the Gobi”, complete with my drying laundry. It was really, really quiet and we sat after dinner watching a distant thunderstorm, hoping that it was dropping badly needed rain on the land beneath.
My tent (with clean socks)
Next up: crossing a flooded Gobi river, bactrian camels and “mosquito heaven”.
I’ll get back to The Camping Trip, but I really want to share the news on the women’s felt crafts collective. Notice the change from “cooperative”. There are a number of words used in Mongolia for legally constituted groups, each of which has different requirements. I need final confirmation from him, but my scientist friend Amgaa, who has been instrumental in helping me help the ladies, believes that this is the correct term, which is almost surely a holdover from socialist times.
Stuffed toy camel in progress
I spent a fun and productive week at Ikh Nartiin Chuluu Nature Reserve. There will be more about my argali and ibex sightings in a future post, but for the moment I’ll just say that I finally, after five trips there, got the reference photos I’ve really wanted – both species in great light and close enough for me to really capture details like head structure. Paintings to follow.
I’ve been so anxious to see Boloroo, the collective director, the other women and to find out how things are going for them.
Boloroo and Tuvshin
I’ll quote from my journal:
Tuesday, August 10-
Great reunion with Boloroo and some of the other ladies. Learned that what started last year with 14 ladies from one Bag (the smallest administrative unit in Mongolia; “bag” means “small” in Mongolian) has now expanded to 30 members in four of the five bags in the soum (the equivalent of a county). Some of the new members came along and it was fun to meet them.
Tuvshin (Boloroo’s son, my little buddy from last year) is now a sturdy almost 2 year old. One lady who was pregnant last year came with her baby and husband, who brought a nice little ibex carving to sell. (I’ve got a probable donor for good quality steel carving knife blanks. I’d like to encourage the men, too.)
Two folding tables were set up and covered with lots of merchandise. The collective has expanded beyond felt crafts, too. One lady now has a knitting machine and brought a variety of tops and sweaters to sell.
Crafts
Selenge (the research camp manager and my translator) had me explain it all to the Earthwatch volunteers. By close of business, close to half of what had been brought had been sold.
A wonderful follow-up in every way to last year’s launch.
And customers
I was also able to have a private meeting with Boloroo, Selenge translating, about ideas for the kinds of things I think would sell in the US and some possibilities I’m working on for sales outlets. Many of the women will be perfectly happy to make slippers, stuffed toys and small, simple items to sell to visitors who come to Ikh Nart. But I’ve seen a level of talent and creativity in some of the women that I want to encourage. They can take their work, with practice, to a very high level of fine craft and therefore command much higher prices.
I watched Boloroo switch from visiting mode to business mode and am really impressed by how thorough and professional she is. I am so very fortunate to have gotten involved with a group that has her as the leader.
One of the new members and her family
I had also brought over a stack of sketchbooks, plus pens and pencils, so that young local artists would have the materials they need to create designs for things like purses. I believe this is better than having a westerner like me do them, although I’ll be happy to help if asked.
Office interior
The following afternoon, I visited the soum center, Dalanjarglan, for the first time. Boloroo was there and we got to spend three hours together. She showed us the collective “headquarters”, a small free-standing building which used to be a gas station. It turns out that she bought the building herself. Amgaa had a banner sign made and donated some large informational posters from a past presentation about Ikh Nart. These have been hung on the interior walls. I saw the felt presses and they are clearly getting used regularly.
The felt presses
I had also paid for training earlier in the year in UB for Boloroo and one other lady, Lhagvadelger, the Bag Governor’s wife. Boloroo is now doing training herself. I also learned that there are four more levels of training available, so I will be looking for funding to cover that in the future.
Boloroo and I in front of the "Ikh Nart Is Our Future" office building
In UB a couple of weeks ago, I paid a visit to Tsagaan Alt, a store run by the Mongolian NGO from whom we got the felt presses and training. Everything they offer is of very high, consistent quality. Eventually, the collective will be able to sell their work there.
Selenge is going to try to keep up with what is going on with the collective and send me occasional reports. Stay tuned. The ladies are clearly just getting started.
Susan Fox, American Artist 
