Tag: Mongolia

Mongolia surprised me completely. I expected vast landscapes and nomadic culture, but I didn’t expect to fall in love with the warmth of the people or the profound silence of the steppe. From learning to make traditional dumplings to staying in ger camps, Mongolia taught me about resilience, hospitality, and finding beauty in simpleness.

  • A Trip Across Mongolia

    My borderline obsession with railway journeys was a seed planted by my father. Moving overland feels like you’re putting in the miles to get somewhere. It gives you a sense of time and space, a glimpse of the legwork required to traverse between two places.

    Trans Mongolia Express, Departing from Beijing

    Up until this point I’d taken some overnight and long distance trains, but nothing which was quite as well known as the Trans-Mongolian. On first impressions, the train is exactly how one would expect. Forest green, each carriage embossed in gold with its final destination. A long beast of a locomotive that knows its place as one of the world’s greatest railways.

    Much unlike its Chinese counterparts, hard sleeper is soft and somewhat luxurious. Each sleeper cabin houses 2 sets of bunks, and we got the good luck of no room-mates for our entire journey, leaving us with an entire cabin to ourselves.

    The halls are narrow with intermittent fold down single chairs and coveted electrical outlets, perfect for recharging phones and kindles throughout such a long journey. Long doesn’t even quite describe it – We booked in to travel for 26 hours. The train would continue on without us for another 5 days through Siberia and on to St Petersburg and Moscow.

    A Cozy Carriage Home for Two

    A sliding door reveals our home for the night – a cozy cabin with a large window, a luxurious two whole blankets per person, and a table situated between the two bottom berths. Where each carriage joins to the next houses a bathroom, hot-water boiler for topping up endless cup noodles and flasks of jasmine tea, and a coal range stove to heat the carriages through the wintery depths of Siberia.

    After making ourselves comfortable, the cabin attendant arrived with a voucher for two complimentary meals in the dining cart. A welcome surprise.

    The cart ambled out of the station, and we began to inch our way out of Beijing city & toward the Chinese border. We were treated to forest green hills with deep creases etched in, cavernous gorges, valleys and bright yellow fields of blossoming rapeseed as the sprawling metropolis of Beijing faded into the distance.

    A Journey from China to Mongolia

    As we approached the Gobi, mainland China gave way to Inner Mongolia (deceptively named, it is still a part of China). The landscapes morphed into dusty vistas. Small villages feature dilapidated camel-coloured houses, co-ordinated to match the surrounding sands. Disappearing deeper into China’s final frontier, we were enveloped by an orange sunset dissolving into an inky sky, and the ominous silhouettes of wind turbines before finally lurching into darkness.

    The dining cart resembled an old film. Regal, foreign and heaving with people grasping meal vouchers, fluttering in the breeze. The first day’s meals are included, and then you’re on your own. Fine by me, I thought, as remembered that we would be departing the following day. Whisked away in a manner of efficiency not uncommon in China, we were wedged into the next two available seats. Moments later a hurried waiter appeared, serving up a plate of flavourful vegetables on rice. After a rushed dinner, I retired to the cabin with my latest purchase under my arm – a cheap bottle of unusually flavoured Great Wall wine to complement our equally unusual bottle of Chinese Plum Wine (spoiler alert : nothing at all like the delicious Japanese plum wine I’d been hoping for)

    China, Mongolia, Russia – One Train, Three Different Types of Track

    In the glow of questionable Chinese alcohol and an evening of trying to remember card games, I drifted off to sleep in my bottom bunk, somewhere before the Mongolian frontier. One of the curiosities of this particular journey is the varying sizes of tracks between the three travelled countries. The bigger question is why they haven’t invested the time and money in remedying this. Instead, with each crossing, three hours is spent hoisting the train up, carriage by carriage, and changing the entire wheelset.

    For many arriving unprepared, it is at this precise moment where hilarity ensues (for readers and spectators, that is).

    As the train heads for a wheelbase change, it first stops at a station platform with a small, enticing cafe. Many an unsuspecting tourist has hopped off, to be left in dismay as the train pulls away. Without a word of warning, it leaves the passengers stranded for hours in the night, unsure if it will ever return for them. Eventually, it does. Leaving a trail of legends whispered through the carriage.. “don’t get off at the border station cafe”.

    Snoozing through the border crossing

    I dozed as customs and quarantine officers came in to pick up and drop off various paperwork. Each time opening the door and leaving the light on as they leave. The visitors subsided and I drifted off into a very comfortable sleep for the night.

    Light peered through the window and I craned my head up to check that I wasn’t missing anything. It was before dawn and I was in time to catch the moon setting outside my window. Venturing out into the carriage hall, I stopped to watch the sunrise out of the other side of the cabin, warming myself by the roaring coal range. The temperatures in the Gobi desert were well below zero, but the train was so well heated, I never even used the thick extra blanket.

    • Corridor-of-trans-mongolia-train
      Corridor-of-trans-mongolia-train
    • Wheels-getting-changed-at-china-mongolia-border
      Wheel changing time!
    • Train-wheelbase
      More wheel changing

    Arrival into Ulaanbataar

    The rest of the journey was relaxing and uneventful. A brand new dining cart awaited us for breakfast – it’s not just the wheels they change here. The car is of traditional Mongolian style, with intricate dark wood carving and Mongolian artwork. A new menu has appeared with its prices in Tugriks. I enjoy many coffees and fried eggs on toast while watching the Mongolia desert stream past.

    As we got closer to Ulaanbaatar, the view became less sparse. Tiny, weary villages; herds of horses and the odd speck of a nomadic Ger or two materialize out the window. As we careened past frozen rivers it was difficult not to imagine that this is the kind of country where time moves differently.

    After another few hours of rolling, sparse grasslands and frozen rivers, we slowed our pace and rolled into UlanBaatar station, the capital city of Mongolia, where we were being met outside our carriage & escorted over to our rental apartment for the week.

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  • In Tirana, a Journey from Mongolia

    After a few traffic jams, a perpetual skyline hazy with pollution, and a rather large power plant out the window spouting billows of fumes into the sky, we arrived. After handing over our 25,000 Tugrik we were on our way out of Mongolia, bound for Tirana.

    The Ulanbataar airport is as easy as they come. Very few people, infrequent flights, and a short list of operating airlines. This means that the queues are short, the security is thorough and the customs officer friendly – all things I appreciate in an airport.

    Mongolia to Albania – The Road Less Travelled

    We split a rather uneventful chicken sandwich and a sticky honey & sour cream cake with coffee before boarding a flight bound for Tirana.

    If you are under the impression that Ulan Bataar to Albania is an unusual flight route, you are not wrong. It involved a Full day of travel. Watching out the window fascinating countries that I would rather be traversing overland than cruising in the air above.

    Flying over the Urumqi mountain ranges, pointing toward Yining. To the south of here lies India, to the North the far reaches of Russia. I’m spoilt with views across mountains of intricate origami folds and dusted with confectioners sugar. Of ore-red valleys and rivers snaking through the ancient landscapes. I feel a strong pull back to earth, to explore lands that so far only exist as myths and fairy tales in my mind.

    Views out the window of a plane across Central Asia

    Ancient and Mythical Lands Underfoot

    We pass across the patchwork fields and frozen lakes of far west Mongolia, and coast overtop the expanses of Kazakhstan and the Caspian Sea.

    Deserts, hillsides, mountains and frozen lakes monopolise the view. The lines of unpaved roads are stitched into the ground and incite unexpected longings for road trips through foreign lands. Watching such a spectacular view of such empty scenery, for such a long time leaves me in awe of those who traded on the treacherous Silk Road all those years ago.

    The kaleidoscopic colours of Iran, with its ancient city of Persepolis, the nomads of the Zagros Mountains. How I wished to descend right this moment to explore the delights of ancient Persia. Perhaps the incredible architecture of Uzbekistan, the infamous hospitality of Kygerstan, the bizarre political history of Turkmenistan, or the natural beauty of Georgia. The Latter which is said to be so remarkable as to be one of the most beautiful countries on earth (and of course, the birthplace of wine)

    Alas, no. I was to daydream from my perch, high into the sky as we flew overhead bound for Albania.

    A Quick Stop in Istanbul

    Our final flight of the day departed out of Istanbul at sunset. The marvellous mosques glinting under a mauve sky. My desire to remain with a foot firmly on the ground only intensifying with each passing moment. Expanses of northern Greece gave way to darkness, as we entered the final stretch of flight.

    Tirana was nothing more than a tiny cluster of lights on our evening descent, giving very little away about our impending destination. Belonging to a country most commonly associated with mafia and crime, dictatorships and oppression. I was greatly looking forward to experiencing it for myself, and being able to see Albania in a more favourable light.

    A Glorious Arrival into Tirana

    I awoke from a long, jet-lagged sleep on the second floor of a charming guesthouse in the centre of town. Large wooden window frames looked out to a treelined street, a warm springtime day with a gentle breeze. Strikingly European, Tirana was, in almost every imaginable way, the yin to Mongolia’s yang.

    Streetside vendors peddled fresh fruit, and the city was a haven of bakeries and French cafes. The atmosphere felt like a cleaner, less crowded version of the Parisian neighbourhood of Montmartre.

    Diverse and gorgeous, flourishing with planters of geraniums and the wafts of espresso.

    Tirana has endured a fascinating cultural history, becoming an integral part of the Roman empire for a number of years. Because of this, many of the older generations of Albania speak Italian. It also ensures that in any given moment, you are never far from a delicious pizza, gelato, or espresso.

    A Country with a Troubled Past.

    Besides the distinctly Mediterranean feel, the fascist regime of Benito Mussolini and the communist regime have left a mark on the architecture. This provides a multifaceted city, shaped by both victory and tragedy.

    I had intended to bring a more positive light to Albania amongst my friends and family, but I had never realized it would be quite this easy. I enjoyed many sunny days admiring the gorgeous streets, leafy parks, and lakes that make up the Albanian capital.

    Cuisine with Influencers all Around

    The food is like that of neighbouring Greece, as well as the other Balkans countries to the north and west. Typical Albanian cuisine starts with fresh bread, oil and vinegar, with a local red wine which, despite the initial surprise, grows on the taste buds. To follow come endless plates of grilled meats and vegetables, each one more delicious than the last. Halved chickens and lamb koftas, spicy sausages and grilled aubergine. Everything arrives with a side of tzatziki and dessert of sweet fruits drizzled in honey.

    Of course, no Albanian meal would be complete without a serving of Rakia to finish. A locally produced fruit brandy served in a shot glass. It is of exceptional strength and is most often produced by the restaurant owner themselves from grapes or plums, and in some cases mulberries. Initially reminiscent of paint thinner, it is one of those things with time and patience, becomes delicious.

    Leaving Tirana is another matter altogether. With no centralized bus station, it took half a day to chase clues around the city to our departure point. Luckily for us, in the end, we found it and boarded a bus bound for the Southern end of the Albanian Riviera. Tirana leaving a delightful impression in its wake.

  • Mongolia in the early spring, Life in a Ger Camp

    Ever since I can remember I’ve found myself enamoured with far-off lands. Jungle explorations, desert treks through the Sahara, far away Nepalese mountain ranges and small Himalayan villages. So it comes as no real surprise when I locked eyes with the possibility of Mongolia, and even less unusual that I found a Ger to sleep in.

    Attracted to the remoteness of it all, a long journey by rail into the heart of one of our world’s most unforgiving landscapes. To cap off the tail end of an emotional overland Journey across Asia, from Malaysia up to Beijing, it made sense to continue on northward, and make our way into the centre of Mongolia.

    Gorkhi Terelj National Park

    We arrived into the steppe in the morning from Ulan Bataar, the capital city of Mongolia and home to almost half of Mongolia’s total population. This was a trip into Gorkhi Terelj, A National park that despite its proximity to the city, still feels a million miles away. Mongolia is a land unknown to many, and even in the modern day, around 30% of the population is still nomadic, or semi-nomadic.

    These lands have passed hands many a time, the area of what we now call Mongolia has been ruled by various nomadic empires such as Xiongnu, Turkic Khaganate, Rouran, and the Xianbei.

    On our arrival, ravens were perched about the place, as shiny as an oil slick. The air smells of coal fires and a sub-arctic wind whipped through the vast, dusty plains. A glacial valley slopes down the hill with a cluster of bare birch, mostly hacked down for firewood.

    Mongolian landscape spring

    Enormous, Vast Landscapes dotted with Gers

    Shaggy cows and yaks nibbled upon whatever sprouts they could find, and occasionally, a solitary purple flower burst from the most unexpected of places. The land was unimaginably vast, I’ve never felt so remote.

    Towering rock formations gaped at the edges, and small slushes of snow still decorated parts of the hillside. This was the very beginning of spring, and the day our ger camp was due to switch on it’s running water wasn’t until tomorrow. Winters are brutal in the Mongolian steppes, and the luxuries of plumbing are not practical whilst it is so cold.

    The land around us was lumpy and laden with marmot holes, and the lolopping silhouettes of the creatures bounding across the hillside provided an unexpected novelty. Small, round Gers dotted the landscapes, reigned in by the bordering fences that designated each small camp.

    Lands Beyond the Gobi, Life in Gers

    If you are not already familiar with Mongolian vernacular, and let’s face it, who is? Then you might have heard of the Gobi desert, of the Mongolian steps, of frozen tundras. All vasty far away and hostile destinations. But the name ‘Gobi’ is actually a Mongol term for a desert steppe of a very particular kind. One with enough vegetation to support the life of a camel, yet not enough for that of a Marmot.

    Judging by the prolific existence of marmots, I expect we were beyond the Gobi and now into something more life-sustaining. Not that you’d know by looking around at this vast and inhospitable landscape.

    • Grazing Yak in Mongolia
    • Horses outside Mongolian ger camp
    • Tea in a ger
    • Horses waiting Mongolian ger camp

    A Changing Way of Life

    Mongolia is the worlds most sparsely populated country after Greenland. Up until recently, a majority of the inhabitants lived nomadic lives, existing off their herds who live off the land. Following them around the country in tune with the seasons. Yet, the country is now in a period of rapid urbanization. More and more people are seeking out a permanent base in the capital city in the name of education and professional careers.

    This exodus into the unfolding comparative metropolis of Ulan Bataar is leaving those back in the countryside with fewer people to do the work required of them, making things more difficult for the hundreds of thousands of Mongolians choosing to preserve the nomadic way of life, one that spans back at least a millennium.

    Mongolians share a close relationship with the land and the creatures that inhabit it. Depending on the region, all manners of farming, hunting, and hoarding can be found. Here in the steppes of central Mongolia, the nomads raise horses, yaks, sheep, goats, and camels. If you traverse far toward the northwestern border of Mongolia and Siberia, you will find the Tsaatan people who raise reindeers. Further afield, thousands of kilometres in the far western Bayan-Ölgii Province, the Kazakh community of eagle hunters live.

    • Herd of horses in mongolia
    • Mongolian ger ceiling
    • Marmot holes in front of ger camp
    • Traditional ger hut

    Life inside a Ger

    Inside our Ger is spacious and colourful, the walls decorated with blue, satin fabric and painted orange supporting beams. The many small poles that lead up to the highest point are hand-painted with bright, traditional patterns. The centre-piece of our living space is a small coal stove with a chimney reaching out beyond our ceiling.

    Our host would silently enter through the day and night, sometimes with a small, playful boy in tow, and top up our fire with more wood and coal. This was protection from the springtime air which hovered around -8C throughout the night.

    The walls of our sanctuary are flanked with 3, large, single beds made up with soft blankets and pillows filled like beanbags. A table sat between the beds and the fire, above knee-height with three tiny stools, one painted orange to match the beams. Over the days, we would come to appreciate those quiet, cool moments before the fire was once again re-stocked with blazing hot coals, bringing our small space back up to roasting temperatures.

    Mongolian Buffalo

    Living a Nomadic Life in Mongolia

    These Ger’s are designed to be moved frequently. Four times a year is normal in most parts of Mongolia, although only twice in this park. Traditionally the Ger’s are packed down and shifted by horses, cows or camels. Nowadays, with cars – regardless, a home can be re-assembled in just one hour – the sheer act leaves my mind boggling.

    Gers resemble quarantine huts, bizarre alien formations dotted across an already alien landscape. The food choices were limited but freshly prepared and delicious. The main restaurant was closed, as were the shower blocks. Although this camp often caters to tour groups, we were the only guests so they would make up a table for us in the kitchen next to the warm, wood-fire stove. In this manner, we felt a more a part of the local landscape than part of a group. The season was still far too early, and cold, to welcome the larger groups of visitors.

    Adventures in Mongolian Cuisine

    Traditional Mongolian food is mostly meat based. Wherever you go, you’ll find meat-filled Buuz and delicious Khuushuur, a deep-fried meat pie, along with soupy noodles,. One particularly savoured delicacy is whole marmots roasted from the inside-out with hot stones. And let’s not forget Airag, the traditional drink made of fermented mares milk. I grew up in a land of British influenced foods. A cuisine mostly devoid of strong flavours, and without the organs of animals or anything too unusual. It wasn’t until I stepped out into the world, wanting to sample it all, that I realized I can struggle when it comes to the world of wild foods.

    Each meal, a table would be set with napkins, a large flask of hot water, and facilities for tea and coffee. The food we ordered was always beef (or, perhaps yak). Tough but tasty and cooked into our choice of goulash or casserole. It would be served with two scoops of sticky rice and a small bowl of shredded carrots and beetroots in a creamy dressing. For breakfast, plates of sliced salami, cucumber, quartered fresh tomatoes and a fried egg, with a basket of bread on the side.

    Our meals were far more Westernized than what true nomadic families live off during the wintertime. The cuisine is rooted in nomadic history, with a heavy focus on meat and dairy. They frequently leave out vegetables due to their difficulty to grow and preserve in such an unforgiving climate. I suspect we were particularly fortunate to be served up a side of salad, and fresh wedges of tomato with our meals.

    dinner at the ger camp

    Return to Ulan Bataar

    The days passed by at a crawl, between our roasting hot get and the biting cold outside. Each day we would go for a few short walks, bundled up in all our layers. Our schedule revolved around mealtimes. As a visitor, I had the luxury of chewing through a new novel each day. Although, I’m certain for those who live here the daylight hours are precious and there is little time for leisure.

    By the time I finished my fourth book, departure day was upon us. A young, English speaking host arrived as if from nowhere in a modern SUV to pick us up and drive us back to the city.

    As we pulled out back toward the real world, people began to appear once again. Weary travelling animal keepers displayed giant eagles and camels on the side of the road. The frozen river began to thaw as it snaked through tiny villages of gers. After some more time driving, the few colourful buildings gave way to a McDonalds. The landscape returned to Soviet-style office blocks, a train station, and an abandoned fairground. It quickly became evident that we were back in Ulaanbaatar.

  • Khuushuur in Mongolia (Making Mongolian Dumplings)

    I first discovered Khuushuur in a typical Ulanbataar restaurant. I sat and devoured while the snow fell outside and the rest of the world felt like it was tucked off a million miles away. Enough research had warned me of the local cuisine and prepared me to lower my expectations significantly.

    You see, Mongolia is not a country famed for its enticing cuisine. All the inhabited corners of the country are remote and with a climate that swings wildly between inhospitably cold and scorching hot. It makes sense that it’s difficult to grow fresh produce and that most of the diet is focused around the meat of hardy animals.

    Before arriving, I’d spent a long while sitting on a very long train journey thinking about what the food might be upon my arrival. I’d expected something more akin to neighbouring China. Yet Ulaanbaatar appears to take much more influence from nearby Russia, not only in the look and feel, but also the food. Borscht and sour cream complement the mostly stodgy, fried, meaty diet of dumplings and beef noodles.

    All kinds of Dumplings feature predominantly in Mongolian cuisine (thanks to China and Russia right on the doorstep) and everywhere I ate offered some variation on a dumpling.

    Yet, if you cast your mind away from the more unique of offal and fermented horse milk, Mongolia offers some superb comfort food suitable for even the picky eaters. Being such a frigidly cold country for a large part of the year, means that the food is generally high fat and meat content, often fried or preserved.

    Take, for example, khuushuur. Meaty, lightly spiced filling, wrapped in a golden fried pastry. A fried version of the more famous steamed Buuz dumpling. Sometimes with some potato inside, sometimes with a dollop of sour cream on the side. Each maker has their own special way of pleating and folding them, like a signature. A universally tasty, crispy, and comforting. Perfect for cold winter days. Of all the Mongolian foods I tried, this simple fried dumpling (which reminded me more of a crispy pie) was one of my favourites.

    Making Khuushuur at home

    When I was a child, my mother used to make us pies that although not fried in the same way, reminded me so much of khuushuur that I instantly wanted to make these for myself and have them again and again. As it turns out, it’s not at all difficult to make at home, and I have a recipe you can try yourself.

    Mongolian Khuushuur

    Khuushuur is a large, fried, meat dumpling popular across Mongolia. Wrapped in a golden pastry with a steaming meat inside, it’s a perfect comfort food for those bitterly cold Mongolian winters.

    Filling

    • 500 grams beef (mutton, or potatoes (or a combination) (either minced or finely diced for the meat. Finely diced or mashed for the potato.))
    • 1/2 onion (finely diced)
    • 2 cloves garlic (minced)
    • 1-2 teaspoons salt
    • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
    • 1/2 teaspoon either dried marjoram or cumin (the choice is yours!)

    Pastry

    • 2.5 cups flour
    • 1/4 teaspoon salt
    • 1 cup water (enough to mix the dough)
    • vegetable oil (enough to fill a frying pan to around 2cm)

    To Serve

    • 1/2 cup sour cream
    • 1 wedge cabbage (Shredded)
    • 1 beetroot (Shredded)

    Making the pastry

    1. Mix together the flour, salt, and enough of the water to create a kneadable dough.
    2. Knead dough until it’s elastic and smooth, then set it aside to rest for 15 mins

    Preparing the filling

    1. In a large bowl, mix together the meat (and/or potato) along with the onion, garlic, salt, pepper, and herbs/spices. If the mix is too dry, add a little water.

    Putting it all together

    1. Once the dough is rested, split the dough into four pieces, then cut each piece in half again. Roll each piece of dough into circles, leaving the edges a little thinner than the middle.
    2. Working quickly to prevent the dough from drying out and becoming difficult to work with, hold the pastry circle in the palm of your hand and spoon a dollop of the filling into one side of the circle, leaving plenty of room around the edges to seal everything together.
    3. Fold the circle in half in your hand, using fingers and palm, so that the edges come together creating a half moon shape. Squeeze out the air and flatten the filling as you work around, pinching the edges closed and tucking them under as you go.
    4. Repeat the process for each khuushuur

    Cooking

    1. Add around 2cm oil in a frying pan and heat until hot.
    2. Fry two to three of the pastries at a time, cooking until they are a golden brown. This usually takes around 2 minutes per side.

    To Serve

    1. Mix together shredded cabbage and beetroot, along with a small dollop of sour cream to create a salad.
    2. Serve the pastries alongside the cabbage and beetroot salad, along with the remainder of the sour cream on the side.

    Khuushuur is a large, fried, meat dumpling popular across Mongolia. Wrapped in a golden pastry with a steaming meat inside, it’s a perfect comfort food for those bitterly cold Mongolian winters.

    Main Course
    Asian, Mongolian
    Mongolian, Pastry

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