Nadaam Festival

For the last three days we have been participating in the Nadaam Festival and Mongolia's 800th Anniversary. The opening ceremony was an amazing display of color, music, traditional costumes, and wrestling. Think the Native American Gathering of Nations meets the Super Bowl halftime show, combined with an ethnic version of the Olympic opening ceremonies and while you're at it, throw in the Renaissance Fair.

At one point a child rode into the stadium on a horse at full speed, shouting, "Genghis Khan is coming! Genghis Khan is coming!" This is the way he was announced in battle and in peace, and it was an awesome sight. The Mongolians have preserved his original flags, which are actually made of horse manes. They preceeded a massive ox-drawn chariot, and Genghis himself stepped out to the delight of the crowd. The sight even gave us non-Mongolians goosebumps.

Speaking of horses, we've eaten one. Tasted like chicken. NOT. We've also eaten sheep innards, and mutton stew, mutton dumplings, mutton soup, and mutton with rice. And noodles. Two nights ago, in a fit of politeness and impeccably bad judgement, David put away a bottle of Mongolian vodka with Zolzaya's dad. We don't know what the word for "puke" in Mongolian is, but they both did, and now we're officially family. And David is officially off of Mongolian vodka. Forever.

Yesterday we all went to the countryside for the annual horserace. Unlike American races, this is held in 30 miles of open space, and the riders must be YOUNGER than 11 years old. Thousands of people drove on-road, off-road, no-road, and into each other to get there. It was quite a scene.

Speaking of driving, there are no rules here. Suggestions maybe, but no one pays attention to the lane markers (when they're present) or any of the 4-5 stoplights we've seen. Pedestrians, run for your lives! Like the Mongolian language, a car horn can mean different things at different times, but the beeping is constant and usually without malice.

We've picked up a little bit of the language, but pronunciation is difficult and spelling is out of the question, so you'll have to wait for us to spit-- speak, rather-- when we return. Think Russian/Chinese and charades. Our host family is also picking up some English.

The six of us are living in a 2-bed 1-bath apartment, and somehow it works. We've been given the master bedroom, the only room with a door. The Damdinsurens are warm and gracious, and we love to laugh together (and once in a while at each other).

Today we visited the Ulaanbaatar Monastery, the largest monastery in the country. We learned a great deal and were allowed to visit the monks' library, where they keep original texts used to train young monks. Afterward we prayed to the gods of commerce at the cashmere factory store (who's been naughty and who's been nice, hmmm?). This afternoon we drove into the countryside to see the remnants of Mongolia's first temple. We learned that it was one of more than seven hundred temples destroyed by communists in the 1930s. It is set in the mountains, and we had a picnic before being rained out. The weather is ever-changing here, and there always seems to be something beautiful and interesting right around the corner. But look both ways twice, or you'll never make it.