Cigarettes and Vodka

Mongolia. I arrived over a week ago in a bone chilling -16 degrees amidst swine flu's grip on the country. I wear a mask in the city, although it is more against the coal-filled polluted smog that hangs in the air and the biting chill of the wind than against swine flu. I met my translator Jenya, who later divluged that when he first saw me he thought that I had 'arrived naked'. Travelling light, I thought I had brought plenty of layers with me, but this is cold so cold it freezes your bones from the inside then works it way out to your skin. Vodka is drunk readily to warm the insides, and cigarettes are common place in bars, restaurants, shops, everywhere.

To combat the Mongolian freeze I purchased sheepskin boots, camel hair socks (very itchy), fox skin hat and a large traditional del. Animal skins are by far the best for keeping warm, and despite my reservations at buying them I have found them to be invaluable in keeping what little body warmth I have left in.

Just under 3 million people live in this landlocked country, one third living in its capital Ulaan Baatar. The rest are in smaller towns or spread nomadically across the countryside.

The 'Countryside People' are nomadic returning seasonally to different camps. With them they take their home (a Ger, or Yurt) and their livestock of horses, sheep, cows and yaks (yaks - cows with skirts on). Their camps are simple; a Ger or two, sheds for storage, and fenced enclosures for smaller animals. The whole family shares the one room in the Ger which is kitchen, living room and bedroom. There is no toilet, and no shower or bath.

The family lives without privacy. All together in a single Ger, three single beds placed around the edges of the tent, everything is visible, everything is shared. Visitors let themselves in, tourists come and stay. This is where I found myself on the first day of my trek in the country, sharing a three bedded Ger with no toilet and 6 other people.

It is the start of the winter and time to kill livestock for winter food. As I arrive at the family's camp a large black Yak is being taken for slaughter on the snow next to the Ger. Slaughtered, then skinned and butchered before my eyes. Freezing temperatures (did I mention its cold here...?) allow the meat to be stored out in wooden sheds. The diet is predominantly meat as well as dairy. Yaks, cows and horses are milked. Fermented mare's milk (Irag) is a sharp milk drink with a smell that works its way into everything. Yak milk and cows milk are brewed into a clear vodka like home brew. Mongolian milk tea, loaded with salt, is offered to every guest when they arrive. At the start of the week I enjoyed trying these new flavours.

Customs abound here in traditions passed down from family to family. If you step on someone's toe, shake their hand; always pass or accept a gift with your right hand whilst simultansously holding your open left hand to your right elbow to show you are not concealing anything. Gender roles are well defined and the same across all families. Respect is the corner stone of the family unit. Men smoke, and drink vodka to keep warm. Women tend the home and milk the animals. Men chop wood and herd the animals. Each respects the other's role.

At night in the country there are no artificial lights. Inside the Ger the darkness is perfect; even my hand infront of my face is not visible, such is the thickness of the felt-lined walls and the density of the darkness. There are no windows and the hole in the roof where the chimney goes during the day is covered. Bringing myself to leave the Ger in the middle of a freezing night in need of a pee I stumble out of this complete darkness into a bright wonderland. The night sky is alight with a whole universe of stars, and a half slung lazy moon puts out enough light to see the unspoiled snow-covered gossamer hills. The sky isn't black; it is silver and alive. The blackness of the trees on the white hills is darker, much darker, and so are the shapes of the animals in the valley below.