A Visit To The Countryside, Day 1: Ramen, a Latrine, and Amarbayasgalant Monastery

Rushing through the apartment, I collected every last minute thing I could think of. I never stayed in the countryside before; what was I supposed to bring? What would be provided? I grabbed a bar of soap and an empty bottle of body wash, then poured shampoo into it. Was it 9:40 am already? I made a quick decision and ditched the cardigan. I didn't need that. 

"Diana, they're waiting for us!" But it was only 9:45 – they were supposed to be here at ten! Where was my phone? I swore I just had it. How much money should I bring? Sarnai said 50,000 tugriks would be enough. But what if – I counted out 80,000 and put it in my backpack. I swung my borrowed duffle bag over one shoulder, then heaved by backpack over both. 

"Okay, let's go."

We walked toward the elevator, only for Ella to run back. Grandma had told her she needed boots. We got in the elevator, but at the the bottom Ella handed us our bags then ran back in the elevator. She returned a few minutes later with her original pair of nike sneakers in her hands. 

"What's going on?"

"Grandma said I need both." 

Well, thanks for telling me. I ran back in the elevator and dashed into the apartment. Sarnai tsk-ed when she saw I was there – "How much did you guys forget?" I picked up the shoes in one hand and a deck of cards in the other, then ran out of there. I spent the rest of the week very glad I had taken both. 

We tossed our bags into the back, then climbed into the four-wheel drive (I have 0 idea what car it is; I don't know cars). It was large and roomy and, counter to what I had thought, we weren't taking a bus; the tour consisted of just the three of us: my sister, my cousin, and me. Ok, now I understood why Ella said she was nervous we were going alone with a 50-some male driver. 

And so our trip began. We passed by the more run down outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, then left the city, and began seeing more and more grazing animals. Our first stop is shallow lake where horses graze nearby. We breathed in the air, wandered for a bit, then got back in the car. We continued on for several more hours, eyes glued to the windows as the landscape changed before us. Buddhist statues rose, gers advertised huurshuur, and the rolling hills appeared increasingly often. 

 

 

We stop for tea, and then for food. By then it was two pm and we were all starving. We pull over to a small house, where we get.... ramen. Yep, just-add-water ramen. Okay, this was fine. It was actually quite tasty. 

Our bathroom options? The tiny little brick construction in the left of this photo (below). It was just as gross as you might imagine, consisted of wooden planks you had to squat over, and included an abundance of flies. This was the moment I realized I had forgotten something very, very important: toilet paper. Luckily Ella and Bashi, my cousin,  saved the day (or perhaps the week). 

After our meal, we bought some snacks, then climbed back in the car and continued further west. About an hour later, our driver made a right turn onto an unpaved road. For the next two hours we bumped and tossed our way over the steppes, occasionally honking at sheep, goats, and cows that blocked the way. We passed the time by taking turns playing word chain, twenty questions, and who am I? There was a lot of fun but also a lot of frustration. Anyone know what animal is furry, has spikes, and can climb trees – but doesn't live in them? My similar decision to choose "bacteria" was met with exclamations of disgust.  

Finally, around 5 pm, we spotted a large, red monastery in a picturesque valley. We had arrived at our destination. By now the sun had reached its peak in the sky and it beat down on us mercilessly. Making our way toward the monastery, we felt our clothes grow heavier and heavier. Why oh why had I decided to wear a warm sweater and boots? The monastery was a brownish-red tone, but the paint that covered its surfaces was chipped and in decay. The stones underneath our feet were old and broken. The yellow prayer wheels squeaked loudly, as if in protest to us spinning them.

Inside the central buildings, young monks, dressed in traditional garb, stared at the tourists. It was clear this room had been repaired; the ceiling was covered in vivid reds, blues, greens, and golds; beautiful tapestries hung from the columns. In the back of the room was a painting of the monastery as it had been when it was first built in 1727. Now, much of it was in disarray and disuse. Outside the monastery and to the left were several shingles and bricks. It was clear that they were trying very hard to fix it up. Ella explained that Mongolia was far more Buddhist before communism. When the Soviet Union took over many monks were killed, sacred books destroyed, and monasteries – if not outright destroyed – abandoned. 

 

We explored the monastery, at one point finding an empty room with several small wooden statues lined along the floor. "That is real creepy" Bashi commented. Ella and I agreed. Leaving the monastery, we set our sights on reaching the Buddha statue at the top of a hill behind the monastery. To the left of the statue was another Buddhist structure with similar stairs accompanying it. We wanted to go to both. 

Shedding out outer layers, we drudged up the stairs to the statue. Why didn't I pack shorts? I wondered. Every so often a large prayer wheel appeared, along with shade. We spun them three times, then caught our breath until we were ready to again brave the heat. 

"What's that say?" I asked, referring to the words decorating the prayer wheel.

"I don't know, that's monk language." 

Reaching the top, we circled it three times. "Is three times a Buddhist thing or a Mongolian thing?" I asked Ella.

"Mongolian? Hmm, maybe both," she responded. 

And so we trekked over to the neighboring shrine. It was far larger and had dozens of prayer wheels arranged around it. Bashi and I spun the prayer wheels and circled the structure three times, burning our fingers as we touched the wheels subject to the sun. Ella broke tradition and rested in the shade. As we moved down the hillside we talked about what we would do for ice cream. 

Whether it was chance or luck, there was a mini market in town and they did have ice cream bars. We devoured them, savored them. Oh, who knew ice cream could be so good? We moved into where we were staying for the night, at a ger camp. Dinner would be in an hour. And oh, did they mention they have a bathroom? A real bathroom with running water and toilets that flushed. We were overjoyed. 

Dinner was delicious and we ate our meal ravenously, with no words. Our ramen lunch had not filled us up. Sitting in our ger after dinner, we played cards. Ella and Bashi made it their personal mission to get rid of every bug in the ger. It didn't work. As it got dark, it grew colder and we lit a fire. But gers are excellent at capturing heat. It grew so warm that we couldn't stand it. Laying in the dark, all the blankets pushed to the side, I draped half my body off the bed and away toward the fire, craving the cool air that blew in from where the walls of the ger met the ground. 

"I can't sleep like this," Ella exclaimed, extinguishing the fire. Under the soft pillow and warm blanket, I felt sleep pull me away.