For the better part of one long-ago century, Mongolia stood on the world's center stage. From around 1211 to 1294, under the leadership of Genghis Khan - "lord of all peoples dwelling in felt tents" - his son Ogotai and grandson, Kublai Khan, the Mongols built the largest empire the world has even known. Territory extended from the Yellow Sea in eastern Asia to the borders of Eastern Europe, including at various times China, Korea, Mongolia, Persia, Turkestan, Armenia, parts of Burma, Vietnam, Thailand and Russia.
It was a time of historic cultural exchange. Roads were built, connecting Russia with Persia. Europeans, among them Marco Polo, came to China. Printing, paper, gunpowder, the compass and other Chinese inventions were introduced to Europe during Mongol times.But the Mongols were warriors, not administrators. They were nomads, not builders. And after the death of Kublai, the empire began to splinter and crumble, and Mongolia slipped back into obscurity, to be the ruled instead of the rulers.
By the early 1600s, Manchu rulers of Manchuria had divided Mongolia into Inner and Outer regions and eventually seized control of both, as well as China. During the 1700s and 1800s, Mongolia had little contact with other nations.
Not until 1911 did the Mongolians drive the Chinese out of Outer Mongolia, seeking help from Russia in the process. And by 1913, Outer Mongolia was under Russian control. (Inner Mongolia was, and still is, under Chinese domination.)
Only when the Soviet Union cracked, did Mongolia shake free. In 1990 a multiparty system was adopted and free elections were held, and for the first time in centuries Mongolia has begun reaching out to the world.
Roughly three times the size of France, Mongolia today has a population of 2.2 million, making it one of the most sparsely populated countries in the world. Lying along the central steppes of Asia, it is a country of extremes: hot summers and cold winters; high mountains and arid desert. Animals outnumber people about 12 to 1.
About half a million people live in Ulan Bator, the capital and one of only three cities of any size in the country. Sometimes written as Ulanbattar, the capital was a nomadic city itself, moving around for 140 years before settling in its present location.
Mobility has been a trademark of Mongolian society, although movements were based on landscape and family tradition rather than random wandering. Even so, the country and the people retained their own language, writing and traditions. But in today's Mongolia, as in other parts of the world, times are changing. And while many still follow the traditional nomadic way of life, their numbers are growing fewer, giving way to a more settled lifestyle. Under the communists, farmers were encouraged to settle on agricultural cooperatives, and today about 50 percent of the Mongolian people live on these farms.
But that's not to say the old ways are gone. Half the people of Ulan Bator still live in yurts or ger, the portable felt tents that are the most popular form of housing in the country. City-dwellers have adopted Western clothes, but out in the country you still see the del, the long, sashed robe that is the national outfit. And given the fact that the country has few of the resources needed to build an industrial/manufacturing state and an abundance of sweeping grassland that caters naturally to livestock, agriculture will always be an important part of the economy.
Mongolia, they say, is the land of five animals: horse, cow (and yak), sheep, goat and camel. On these five depends the prosperity of the country. All five animals are milked, and that milk is coaxed into endless varieties, shapes and consistencies. From airag (fermented mare's milk) to a variety of curds and cheeses, milk is combined with a little meat to make up a substantial portion of the national diet (at least in the countryside). In fact, the art of milk-drinking is such that Mongols can tell by the taste what type of grass the animal ate.
But of all the animals tended by the Mongols, chief among them is the horse. Mongolians are born in the saddle. "A Mongolian without a horse," they say, "is like a bird without wings." And "the greatest misfortune is for one to lose his father while he is young or his horse during a journey," or "the way to heaven is on the back of a horse."
In the early days, the success of the conquering hordes was due in large measure to their ability to fight on horseback, to move quickly and strike fiercely, shooting arrows at a full gallop.
Mongolian horses, slightly smaller than Western breeds, are well-suited to the grassy plains. Sweeping like the wind across the central steppes of Asia, horse and rider move as one. Grace and elegance blend with power and speed.
Even today, no ceremony or holiday in Mongolia is complete without a horse race, a tradition dating from the 13th century. Racing conditions have changed little, although today's riders tend to be young, boys of 14 or 15. The Naadam Festival, for example, the annual festival that has been celebrated for three centuries, showcases the "three manly games: archery, wrestling and horse racing." And of the three, the highlight is the marathonlike horse race. Thousands come from all over to line the last stretch of the race and cheer at the finish line.
The winning horse is serenaded and christened "Leader of Ten Thousand." The losing horse is named "Full Stomach," for surely the failure in the race was the fault of the training, not the horse itself.
Mongolia has always seemed about as far away as you can get before you start coming back again. And it pretty much is. And while it is hardly on the main tourist thoroughfare, a surprising number of visitors (a few Americans, more Japanese) are making their way there now. There is even a Utah connection: six non-proselyting missionary couples from the LDS Church are serving as special advisers to the university and government in Ulan Bator.
Our group arrived by train, having survived a day and two nights on the Trans-Siberian Railway. We were excited about the opportunity to experience firsthand this far-away blend of ancient and modern culture, and we were not disappointed.
Although the tourist industry is fairly new in Mongolia, we were welcomed with warmth and treated with hospitality. We found that accommodations and food fall pretty much in the middle range - below the high standard China has achieved in recent years but above most of what you find in Russia.
As a destination, Ulan Bator has much to offer visitors. There are museums with both contemporary and historic art, with plants and animals indigenous to the area, even with dinosaur bones. The Gobi desert, which covers about a third of the country, has been a rich storehouse for fossils, and the bones are put on proud display (even without the hype of a "Jurassic Park").
Folk concerts provide a feast for the senses: colorful costumes; an intriguing array of musical instruments and voices that send forth an amazing range of sounds, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Acrobats bend and sway in all kinds of positions; dancers perform steps and routines that have been performed for centuries.
There is the town square, and the statue of the national hero, Sukhe Bator (on horseback, naturally). And the war memorial, high on the hillside, providing a panoramic view of the city spread out below. And the Gandan monastery. One of the few "working" Buddhist monasteries left in Mongolia, it provides a step back into the days of simple faith and intense devotion. (As in most communist countries, religion was outlawed for years here but never truly died and is now experiencing a resurgence.)
But a highlight of our visit to Mongolia was a trip to a yurt camp, where we were able to stay overnight in an authentic felt tent, sleeping on authentically hard wooden benches, protected from the cool night air by a thick cotton wrapper (the choices were to sleep on it and be comfortable or under it and be warm).
And we were able to visit a nearby horse farm, to see how the typical Mongolian family lives, to see ways of the nomads before the winds of change blow too swiftly across the steppes.
We were invited into their yurt, to see how neat and compact life can be. The use of yurts as housing goes back to 2500-3000 B.C. And little has changed since. The walls are made from narrow birch willows formed into a lattice framework held together by leather strips, then covered by layers of felt and canvas. It is sturdy enough to resist strong winds, provides enough warmth to withstand subzero winters, yet is light enough to be carried by cart or pack camel and efficient enough to be assembled or disassembled in less than an hour.
Beds and chests line the walls; the cookstove is in the center. Nowadays, there is likely to be a television set or even a motorcycle parked outside. (No one ever said change was all bad.)
Even more interesting was the warmth and obvious delight of our host family, from the grandparents to the youngest toddlers, all of whom were as fascinated with their look at American tourists as we were with Mongolian nomads. Their pride in their home, their horses, their homeland was evident, and so was their eagerness to share it with us.
We met and mingled briefly surrounded by the velvet hills and grasslands, sharing our common humanity, knowing that we were privileged indeed to be here and to be here now. And when we left it was with another old Mongolian saying in our hearts: "Life is as beautiful and as short as a rainbow. Enjoy the journey between heaven and earth!"