Horses, Yurts and Blue Sky – A Delectable Sojourn as a Nomad in Mongolia

Buuz, Bansh and Khuushuur – or dumplings as they are known in Mongolia is my first vivid gastronomic memory of my maiden visit to the land of Genghis Khan.

Minor shockwaves rippled through the family, when I announced matter-of-factly that my next solo adventure would take me to remote Mongolia, perched high up in the north of the country – straddling the border of Russian Siberia – to spend a week with an elusive minority group – the Tsaatan reindeer herders.

Why would I embrace hardships of living in the wilderness – cut off from civilization as we know it – in sub-zero temperature, was a recurring question from friends and family synchronized by asymmetrical eyebrows and jawlines. To which, my answer was always -why not? There is a certain unhinged desire for the unknown for many a solo traveler – to revel in experiences – off-the-beaten track – gritty, elemental and sublime.

Anyways, coming back to the dumplings. At the moment in time – they seemed like a gift from the almighty. After a fairly uneventful journey via Beijing – I landed in Ulaan Bataar to a homely, little airport where my guide Eiggi was waiting to pick me up. Stepping into the biting cold, added to the travel exhaustion and the rumblings in the tummy. After a quick shower, Eiggi navigated me through bustling streets to an eatery tucked away in the heart of the city – known for its dumplings. The assortment of doughy packages of mutton, beef, chicken was a sight for sore eyes – and a source of comfort in an unknown, unexplored land. Food never fails in that respect.

Buuz is the general name for dumplings, Bansh is a smaller version of these dumplings, whilst Khuushuur are deep fried in oil and are served like pancakes. The dumplings are also a reminder of the connection between this beautiful, culturally rich land and its Chinese neighbours to the south, though the Chinese dim sum is very different – in every aspect.

The goodies filled up the tummy and soul rather quickly and each bite was a succulent delight that the taste buds wanted to hold on to. This was washed down with Suutei tsai – milk tea with salt – an acquired taste, I would say, especially for a palate conditioned to Darjeeling tea – in its pure brewed splendor.

One of the first things you notice about Mongolia is the blue sky – once you move away from the capital city. A calming blue that can have you lost in them. The sprawling tundra, the endless expanse dotted by steppes enigmatically beckons you to space – vast and limitless – that complements the blue sky.

The promising gastronomic start was a sign of more great food coming my way. The blue sky told me so.
The next few days were one of vicious off-roading – which I was lucky to survive without broken body parts. I mean there is off-roading and there is off-roading in Mongolia – which takes bumpy road to a new level.

The pain was quickly forgotten once you get drenched in the sights outside the van window – crisp air, patterned foliage, rugged mountains, the hollow silence, the epic blue sky, and an unexpected arousal of your taste buds by smoked fish – on the riverbanks. While, my memory plays truant (can’t recall the name of the fish), I don’t think I have enjoyed fish sans anything but fire and salt – ever before in my life.

While travelling for miles – out of nowhere – a yurt or a wood cabin – would spring up from the steppes to rest the aching limbs and help to sleep the night away. These usually belonged to the locals and were rustic much like the topography – and I had to ace an important life skill – using an open toilet (read hole in the ground).
After four days on the road – it was time to take a leap of faith – to get on horseback to continue the journey to reach the Tsaatan reindeer herders. Post, nine juvenile attempts, managed to reach my butt to the saddle. In the freezing cold, with enough layers of clothing to resemble someone from Genghis Khan’s clan in terms of girth, I considered that as a mammoth accomplishment.

The 8-hour long journey or so (among the nomads, there is no concept of time, you reach when you have to reach) is something that will be forever etched in my mind. Completely, cut-off from any form of communication, perilous, enchanting and hard to describe in words – it’s a feeling that will never be forgotten.
The journey culminates once you reach the remote taiga forests and you are instantly rewarded with the sight of the white reindeers. Fun facts – reindeers love salt, lose horns in winter by banging on them only to regrow them in spring. The herders are dependent on the animals for survival. Reindeer milk is a staple and used to make the local, hard candy which has a pungent flavor and meat is eaten when the animal dies of old age.

The other animal that symbolizes Mongolia is the horse. Even in the twenty-first century, Mongolia remains a horse-based culture and retains its pastoral traditions. Infact, its impossible to imagine the country without its beloved horses. Like the reindeer, nothing gets wasted and horse meat is commonly eaten once they perish. The meat is enough to last a family through the cold, harsh winter.

By this time in the trip, I had succumbed to my inner and outer nomad, aced “doing my business” in the prickly bushes of mother nature in spite of being a frozen popsicle, learnt how to cut wood and light a fire to keep warm, melted water from the icy rivers to make coffee, and drink vodka for breakfast. That, Mongols love their vodka, would be an understatement.

I had also begun to admire the self-sufficient especially when it came to food. Just like the cavemen – nature pretty much provides everything except for flour, which they purchase once a month by making a 10-hour journey to a lower altitude in the plains.

I had the fortune of witnessing a meal made from scratch – horse mince puffs – and it was spellbindingly fascinating. Horse meat is tough and rubbery and salt is used abundantly to soften the meat. The taste is more akin to lamb and equally delicious.

Infact every Mongolian meal came down to two basics – meat and flour – but prepared in myriad ways. The only meat that I missed eating (without regrets though) is Boodog: Marmot Barbecue. Boodog is an example of Mongolian barbecue which uses hot stones as a cooking method, where the stones are inside the animal – and the meat cooks from inside. Glugs of airag – a traditional alcoholic beverage made from mare’s milk – completes the meal.

Not for the faint hearted.

The Mongol nomads lead a difficult life, but they would not trade it for anything else and why would they – the freedom that comes with it cannot be compared to any urban life. Infact, when the trip ended – I had this irresistible urge of being a nomad forever. Not sure what the family would think of that…