Saddle Up Little Doggies

I've never been to a horse race in the US - at least I don't remember going to one. Both my parents grew up on farms in the midwest, so I have lots of memories of farm animals, and I have photos of me riding horses (usually accompanied by an adult) when I was a child. I took a "Horsemanship" to complete my Physical Education requirements during my undergrad years. It was, for the most part, a really great experience. A couple days a week, for a couple hours a day, I drove out to some ranch and took care of and rode horses.

But none of that could prepare me for today.

I'm not sure that there are enough pictures in the world to provide an accurate account of this surreal experience.

Tushig arrived at our apartment this morning. He is from UB originally, but lived with his sister in Indiana for a few years, so he speaks fairly good English. He's quiet though. Scary quiet. We hired him to drive us to the Naadam horsemanship races today (and we hired him to drive us around the countryside over the next three days/two nights - more on this later). So we headed out of UB - a relatively ugly Soviet-era influenced city, filled with pollution, dust, and lots of people. We drove passed the powerplants and factories that line the edge of the city - signs that read in Mongolian and English the benefits of mining.

We drove passed the "suburbs" of UB until we reached the empty spaces - well, almost empty, several cows, goats, sheep, telephone/electrical wires were parallel to the road for a little while. Every mile or so there would be a person selling something on the side of the ride - usually cassette tapes or piles of dirty, bloody sheep skin. The further we drove from UB, the worse the roads became... and then we took a left and went off roading on country dirt roads through hills and valleys for miles. How any normal car could survive that terrain is beyond me. (We're in a jeep).

The Nomadic lifestyle fascinates me. I think it's a combination of ultra simplification - what am I willing to pack up and leave, what things in my life are unnecessary, and the idea of community and what makes a home. Mongolians historically have lived in gers - these are felt tents - they are light and mobile. Typically, nomads move 8-10 times a year. Still today. Part of me wishes that I could simplify my life that much - that I could pick up my house and move to whatever piece of land called my name. Another part of me wonders what my life would be like without community. I lived without community for many years in California. It drove me crazy.

Anyway, we off-roaded for miles, passed domesticated and wild animals, passed gers and families who live this nomadic lifestyle, until we reached the "race track".

I suppose I've seen pictures of race tracks over the years. Maybe some derby was on television while I was sitting at a bar, so I guess that's what I expected: some kind of circle, bleachers, a start and finish line, a hot dog booth or two.

On a side note, as if you're not used to my non-sequiter thought process by now, I've been thinking a lot about why I travel, and today, I realized that it's about expectations. Some cities, I arrive and have no expectations - I feel lost, or confused, or I have it all figured out, but whatever the case may be, my expectations are always met. Even if I travel some place and I don't like what I've seen, experienced, whatever, I can just move on. In my real life, I have so many expectations (especially for myself) so today, I thought, this is yet another reason why I jump on these crazy adventures - to simplify my expectations.

So no hot dog booth, no cotton candy, no large, organized circle. What we saw was this:




Ben throws a fast ball to a pile of empty cans:


Obviously there were horses and people and dust everywhere. I hate to use the word again, but as Amanda and I walked over the hills to find the "track" I could believe what a surreal experience this was.

But we found the... line, we weren't sure if it was the starting line, finishing line or what. There were some make-shift bleachers, and a crowd of people - drinking their fermented milk, greasy meat pancakes, and enjoying the dust.




I had no idea what was going on, what race was taking place. There was an announcer bellowing in a load speaker, but of course, it was in Mongolian. There were horses everywhere so I thought maybe they just started running. Amanda overheard some woman speaking Mongolian, but pointing and gesturing that the horses started in one direction (point far off into the hills to our left) and ended where we were standing. Excellent. We found the finish line.

So we waited. And waited. An hour. Maybe longer. Hot, sweaty, dirty. We waited.

I was waiting to hear "on your mark" or maybe a shot gun. What happened instead was the energy of the crowd started to pulsate. Amanda and I tried to make our way to the front of the fence. Large trucks watered down the dusty finish line:



And we waited.

Over an hour later, I could see a dust cloud forming on a distance hill. Out of nowhere. I wish this picture was better, but I have never seen dust like that before:



The crowd got louder and bigger screaming "choo, choo". It was really exciting. And out of the dust came hundreds of little boys and girls on horses. This was the winner -- he was WAY ahead of the pack:




This poor little boy's horse was foaming at the mouth (we found out later, the kids race for 30 kilometers) so he jumped off the horse and was dragging it passed the finish line:



This entire experience was awesome.

Amanda and I walked through the dust and crowds of people and horses, listening to the throat music of the Mongolians and we tried to capture what we just experienced. We found Ben and walked around to grab a bite to eat. My only requirements were shade and meat. We walked through 10's of ger-style "restaurants" - little families welcoming us to sit and eat. They have no menus. We've discovered the staples in this area - greasy pancakes filled with mystery meat and mystery meat kabobs. We found a shady table at a ger and were asked to sit down. The two ladies offered us hot tea (it's 85 degrees and humid) and we made the hand gestures to order some of those tasty greasy pancakes. Here's a picture of me trying not to burn my mouth on the hot tea:


And this is lady Amanda enjoying her pancake:



The family asked that we take a picture of them. We complied. And without words, communicated that we wanted photos of them as well.




Right after we finished our lunch, the wind picked up, which left a little bit like a dusty tornado, dropping ice-cold rain. The family immediately invited us into their ger where we sat in a large circle and tried to communicate using Ben's Mongolian phrase book, their REALLY fragmented English, hand gestures and smiles.






When the dust storm passed, we said good bye to our new friends and headed back to UB.

Our driver is picking us up early in the morning to take us to the country for the next three days - no electricity, no internet, no bathrooms, no shower. We will be sleeping in gers along the way. So I'm sure I'll have plenty to write about in a few days.