During the Cold War I visited East Berlin. One of the things that sticks in my memory is a visit to a bookshop. The travel section was notably circumscribed, restricted of course to communist brother countries. It was the first time I'd seen "Outer Mongolia" (the world's second officially communist state) highlighted as a travel destination. "Who'd want to go there?" scoffed the younger me. "How's that for scraping the barrel?"

Well, a much older me has now discovered what a unique and fascinating place Mongolia is, and I absolutely loved my two weeks there. Home to just 3 million people on a land area six times the size of New Zealand (or the UK or Japan), it does "uncrowded" in a really big way. And it's extraordinarily beautiful.

We went in the second half of June, when the days are long, and the weather is fairly clement (although still cold at night and in the early morning, and still liable to some biting winds on the grey days).

It's not that easy to do Mongolia independently, so we set ourselves up with a guide, a driver, a rough, tough, all-terrain UAZ, and a personalized itinerary, all courtesy of Goyo Travel.



We had this thing about only doing land travel once we'd got there, so we focused our attention on Central Mongolia, leaving the delights of the Gobi, the west, and the north to another time.

As always, it's hard to pick, but here are my favourite things (excluding the food, which was also a favourite thing, but has its own post here):

1. The steppe. This is quintessential Mongolia... It consists of rolling grassland, stretching apparently infinitely, but constantly offering up changing contours and colours, light and shade. The term "grass" sells it a bit short, actually. It's a melange of grass, herbs, and a huge variety of wild flowers. As you crunch over it, you often catch the scent of thyme or sage. The steppe is home to big, big skies, the song of the lark, and countless flocks: sheep, goats, cattle, horses, yaks... It was a never-ending source of fascination to us to watch the animals spread themselves out over the grassland, or watch their owners (often traditionally dressed) rounding them up, or driving them to new pasture. And the steppe has its wild animals, too. Our favourites were the reintroduced wild Mongolian horses, and the totally endearing marmots.











2. Gers. These are an integral part of the steppe. They are large, round, portable homes, which you can dismantle, load on the back of a large lorry (or a few camels), and set back up again once you've reached your next bit of pasture. Gers featured heavily in our trip (and how many times must one head-butt the low lintel before learning to duck before exiting...?). We photographed gers in picturesque places; we stayed at tourist-adapted gers (some tour operators are sniffy about these, and it's true that they're rather artificial, but they're a comfortable and easy way to enjoy some beautiful spots); we watched gers being assembled; we saw gers being turned into electioneering posts; we looked in at market stalls where you can buy ger components and accoutrements (a ger costs $2,000 -- about half the cost of a second-hand car). And we both visited and stayed with ger-dwelling nomadic families (see below). Modern nomads (who still make up about a third of Mongolia's population) tend to have solar cells, which power satellite-TVs or freezers (the former churning out lots of Mongolian-dubbed Korean soap operas, the latter switched off in winter when the whole outside world turns into a big freezer). The number of times herders up sticks and move varies according to circumstances, but families may shift three or four times during the summer, to avoid over-grazing, and all will make a winter move. I found this mobile, ger-centred way of life totally fascinating.











3. Staying with a pastoralist family. Some herders set up spare gers for travellers. We stayed a couple of nights in one of these places, and -- very basic toilet facilities notwithstanding -- it was probably the highlight of the trip. We watched the yak-milking, the mare-milking, and the making of the fermented mare's milk (this actually tastes refreshingly better than it sounds, although neophytes are usually warned to start with small quantities...). We rode horses to a beautiful waterfall (my first attempt at horse-riding, and probably my last -- my anatomy doesn't appreciate animal saddles, it seems...) We paced out the lush, stream-filled, flower-flecked valley. We went to sleep to the sounds of yak grazing just the other side of our felt walls, and the continued rhythmic churning of the mare's milk. I very much appreciated the chance to get to know this hardy, resourceful, hard-working family, and the others like them that we met. Their centuries-old way of life, and their efficient use of space and resources, offer lessons for us all.







4. Forest and desert. These terrains are more extensive in the north and the south respectively. But the central area provides a taste of both. Our very first hike was through the forest, and the smell of the pines and the sound of the cuckoo are now an inseparable part of my picture of Mongolia. Many of the central grassy areas feature larch forest, whose light cover spreads gracefully up over the lush green slopes. The patches of desert are also very beautiful, with their odd coexistence right next to pasture, or even wetlands. Camels are right at home here, of course. Unlike our pampered camel-riding experience in Rajasthan, here you sit directly on the animal, cushioned only by a couple of blankets. This is not the most comfortable thing (to put it mildly), but there's still something amazing about sitting atop a padding camel.







5. Road trips. The huge variety of scenery (see above), the mostly empty roads, and the feeling of infinity make Mongolia a spectacular place for road trips. There's always something to watch as you move; and we had coffee stops in some quite lovely places. It was interesting to pop into little shops along the way (marvelling at the copious supplies of bottled fruit -- and of alcohol). And lunches in small, unpretentious roadside cafes were among my food highlights. Of course, the term "road" trip overstates the case somewhat. Most of the roads we travelled were unmade tracks, and the journey involved fording rivers, striking out across country, and detouring round the odd collapsed bridge. Never dull...







6. History. How extraordinary that so many groups built extensive empires spreading out from this territory... Mongolians are obviously proud of the historical significance of this tract of land, and there's no shortage of monuments commemorating it. I was intrigued by the post-Cold War fascination with Chinggis Khan and his empire -- there are numerous statues and monuments, and you can buy Chinggis souvenirs by the bucket-load. I don't think for a minute that people are glorifying the massacres. It's the strong leadership, ability to wield power, and sense of Mongolian significance that people hanker for, I think, in a vulnerable country sandwiched between Russia and China. There's a strong desire to conserve Mongolian heritage, and dotted about the central region are some excellent archaeological projects and museums, with finds from a variety of periods (the Karakorum Museum and the Khushuu Tsaidam Turkic Museum deserve special mention here). John Man offers an accessible way in to Chinggis, his descendants, and their significance.







7. Monasteries. Many of these have sad histories, having suffered enormously in the communist purges of the 1930s, and often surviving only as ruins in picturesque places. But some managed to escape destruction, via a variety of expedients, and new monasteries or temples have now also sprung up near some of the remnants. Closely connected to Tibetan beliefs, this is a very different type of Buddhism from the one we're used to in Southeast Asia. I loved peering at the details of the beautifully executed tangkas and applique work, and learning about yellow-caps, taras, tsam masks, Buddha protectors, and other fascinating figures. I loved the riot of colour, against which the predominance of blue, green, red, and orange still stood out, like a strong, grounding bass in a complex rhythm. And it was quite something to listen to the chanting of the monks in the oldest monastery in Mongolia (in Karakorum).









8. Colour and patterns. Just beautiful...





9. The big city. Now, there are many qualifications here. Ulaan Baatar is home to no fewer than half Mongolia's population; the traffic is terrible; the roads drain really badly; and there's an insane amount of construction happening in an apparently uncontrolled manner (mind you, I could make that last point about KL or Melbourne...) But it's also home to a number of pleasant little cafes; the communist-era streetscapes are interesting; and it boasts some fine museums (the National Museum, the Summer and Winter Palaces, and the Zanabazar Museum of Fine Arts rated highest with us). There are some lovely places to visit quite close by. I could live here for a while, I think. In the summer, that is... In the winter it's freezing, and the air pollution is apparently terrible because all those who live in the (stationary) gers have no alternative but to burn coal in their stoves.







10. Taking the train to Beijing. The journey takes about 28 hours, and it's a fabulous experience. We had lunch in the atmospheric dining car; watched the grasslands slowly give way to the vast expanses of the Gobi desert; and followed minutely the process of bogey-changing at the border with China. Not to be missed.









Mongolia? Seriously loved it...