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Published: October 10th 2007
I've decided to put three seperate experiences into one blog, under one heading even though it's not strictly chronologically correct. But it sums up the wonderful hospitality we received from the Kazakh people nicely. The following events took place over a period of 9 days.
When we woke up after our first night in Altai hotel it was to crystal clear blue skies and only a little slush on the ground to show for the sleet the day before. It was still cold but it was that crisp, dry cold that is so much easier to cope with. We met our guide, Hatran, who would also be accompanying us into the mountains the next day. He had arrived with four horses and a camel. Since there were five of us, plus himself, and no one was going to be riding the camel, this was understandably our first logistics hurdle. After a brief but loud argument in Kazakh with Amangol it was decided that, yes, we did in fact need six horses for the day. Amangol leapt onto a little chestnut stallion, high heeled boots and all, and tore off down Altai's main street to procure us two more mounts. She
Altai Hotel
The hotel in the background, the hotel toilet in the foregroundwas back within an hour, record time in Mongolia, with two more horses in tow... one was a seriously ancient old bugger but he seemed lively enough.
We chose our horses - I seem to gravitate towards grey horses more than others, as proven throughout my life so far. Mine was a grey (surprise!) gelding of reasonable stature and impressive bulk. He was a solid little bugger, not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but willing enough to go faster than a walk. He had nice paces for a wee horse so I spent a lot of time trotting, which was not much slower than his canter and more comforatble. I named him Sir Gunther the Great, because he doth grunt-a-lot. I got used to the constant groaning and huffing and grunting during the day. At least it was less disturbing than the high pitched moan emitted at intervals by Cate's horse. That one sounded like it had sprung some kind of leak. Funny wee things, these Mongol horses.
We eventually headed out for the day to visit a nearby family of Eagle Hunters. It was pretty exciting. The only eagle I'd so far seen up close
on this trip was a sad specimen kept on a post outside Erdene Zuu in Karakourum. I was keen to see an actual hunting eagle up close. The family we visited is an important one in the area. The country is divided up into provinces, this one was Bayan-Ulgii. Then the provinces are split into cyms (pronounced suums), we were in Altai cym. Then the cyms are split into teems which are groups of families, usually nomadic people living in gers. This particular family was that of the headman of a local teem, about 300 families, so a pretty important guy. He was in charge of deciding when the teem moved from summer camp to autumn to winter to spring camps. He settled disputes and basically was in charge of the teem running smoothly. Quite an important fellow. You could tell, too. He had an immense aura of self confidence but without arrogance. He seemed an eminently capable person.
When we arrived at the ger everyone was sitting outside surrounded by horses and camels and 3 golden eagles. The eagles were all quite young and in various stages of training. The eagles are caught young and trained to hunt
small game and foxes by the Kazakh people. They're kept for 8 years and then released back into the wild to breed. At that time the Eagle Hunter might get another bird and start the process over again. There was a young boy at the ger, the headmans son, who was training his eagle. It was a beautiful thing, I think it was a year old. Either that or he'd had it for a year, I'm not sure. But I got to hold it! A real live hunting eagle, unhooded. It was a serious thrill.
The young boy's eagle had definitely been trained to hunt foxes. Hatran had a fox fur hat and it was a great game to get the eagle to pounce on it. He caught it once and it was an effort for them to get it to let go. I'm not sure how thrilled Hatran was. The hat lost a few tufts of fur to the eagles talons.
We were invited into the ger for suu-tei-tsai and snacks. I've definitely developed a taste for salty milky tea. Lovely. I don't know what I'll do without it when I get home. Cate, Sam and I
were given the distinct honour of sitting around the main table with the men. Kazakh women occupy a lesser social position than men, traditionally, but in practise I suspect it's different. Amangol is known as the 'local Indian' or boss-lady, of Altai and she definitely has a position of power in regard to her husband. The Kazakhs are followers of Islam, but I got the distinct feeling that it is more of a cultural issue than a religious one. It was Ramadan while we were there and there was plenty of food before dark and vodka in evidence. Along with the suu-tei-tsai we were given boortsig (a small fried bread) and a huge array of cheeses. The Kazakh cheeses are both more varied and more appealing than Mongolian cheeses. There was aurum, a kind of clotted cream made from yaks milk, a soft creamy cheese that tasted like cream cheese and gerkins, a harder version of the same cheese, a bland white yaks milk cheese and a few varieties of crunchy preserved yoghurt which were pretty tasty. After the cheeses we were given the most divine yoghurt I've ever tasted. It was like runny, lumpy Mahoe Farmhouse greek yoghurt but
Sir Gunther the Great
Named thus because he doth Grunt-a-lot. better.
Kazakh gers are wonderful. I've decided that I want to live in one. They're much larger and airier than the Mongolian counterparts and they are decorated with more style and pride. I got the impression that the differences between Kazakh and Mongolian culture runs that way, too. The Kazakh's seem far more vibrant and proud of their heritage. Everything is very colourful and alive - I guess that is the middle eastern influence. The handicrafts are more beautiful and more traditional and the people are much more outgoing (horribly stereotyping here, but speaking from my limited experience). I think the Mongolians have had a lot of their cultural pride beaten out of them by successive waves of foreign invasion. The Kazakhs were remote enough to escape alot of the cultural cleansing of the communist era and of course their religion has remained far more intact than the Buddhism of the rest of the country. If it weren't for the terrible meaty diet I could have stayed with the Kazakh nomads indefinitely. Everything about them seemed big and beautiful and exciting. And they're all very dashing, too, with their eagles and horses and fox fur hats.
I also
tried airag (fermented mare's milk) for the first time, at last. I was pretty sparing with it though. I've been told that the first time you drink it, it goes through you like a dose of salt. While something about that appealed to me after weeks of high meat diet and hardly any fibrous fruit and veges, with the hotel toilet being situated across the road I decided discretion was the better part of valour in this instance. It tasted like fizzy yoghurt. Not unlike some of those little probiotic yoghurt shots you buy at home, but moderately alcoholic. Not bad at all.
The second Kazakh cultural treat we enjoyed was a week later. It came in the form of a private concert performed by Amangol. She sang traditional Kazakh folk songs and played the dombara - a traditional instrument. She's an internationally award winning folk singer and has won competitions throughout central asia but especially in Kazakhstan. It was an amazing performance just for us. She even wrote a song for us, saying something nice about each of us visiting her. For my verse she said I had eyes like a baby camel (that's a good thing!) and
Hatran
Our wrangler, Hatran, in his fox-fur Kazakh hat. if she could have found a suitable husband for me she'd have liked to keep me there. I was pretty stoked with that. We were also treated to a song by her three children, with Amangol on dombara, which was sweet. Two of her children have won singing prizes at school competitions and the other boy was very talented at athletics, we were told.
Our third cultural treat was a visit to our wrangler, Hatran's, home after our trip into the mountains. We were invited out for lunch and to meet his family. While we were there we were told an amusing story about Hatran's past. Apparently he kidnapped his wife. He was riding past one day while she was out collecting dung for fuel. He didn't say anything to her then, but the next day he rode past again and swung her up on his horse and rode off to his ger, told her he would take care of her from then on and thus was richer by one wife. It seems that Borat was not so far off the mark when he tried to kidnap Pamela Anderson for his wife. It really does happen! They seem very
happy now, though.
After the requisite suu-tei-tsai and cheese we were given another suprise. We were ushered outside into the freezing wind to be confronted by a large herd of goats. It seemed we were to be given the opportunity of milking a goat or four before leaving Altai. First we were to catch the goats, which task Sam threw herself into with enthusiasm but to little effect. When she finally got hold of a goat it turned out to be a male and thus not much good for milking! I can say, with some pride, that I quickly caught the nanny goat I aimed for, earning a nod of approval from Amangol and possibly increasing my eligibility at the same time. The milking was another story though. It was so cold I couldn't feel my fingers, let alone a pair of goat nipples. I did manage to get a little bit of milk, eventually, but not enough to quench any kind of thirst. Sam managed to get about the same amount of milk out of her goat (not the billy goat she caught, of course) but most of it went on her jacket, not in the bucket. It's
quite a challenge to aim it. Cate had slightly more success. I suspect part of our trouble was due to the fact that the goats had already been thoroughly milked that morning, not only because we were useless goat milkers.
We also got to ride a bactrian camel, which was very cool.. While Cate rode the lovely sedate camel that had been our pack animal for the past week, we got to watch Amangol's husband try to ride it's little brother who wasn't having any of it. It was hilarious. He gave it a good go, go absolutely covered in camel puke and was thrown off twice. Hatran seemed unconcerned to be showered with the excess puke, but I guess you get used to that when you're a camel herder. I had a nice little ride on the nice camel, with no drama and no puke.
It was sad to move on from Altai and even sadder to say goodbye to Amangol and her family. It would be nice to think that I might go back there one day.
www.zavkhan.co.uk
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Brian
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emily's blogs
Absolutely fascinating. I'm going to read all your blogs about your travels, bit by bit. . What an accomplished storyteller ! Where do you get the time to write AND travel ??? My eldest daughter took her young son to Sabah recently on a packaged tour for a "cultural experience " as she termed it. I'm sending her your blog address to really see what can be done. She'll have to save some $$ though. Thankyou so much for sharing your travels with this old 1960's 3rd-class backpacker fellow. Brian. PS. I now make "Hikerswool" for trampers and Hikers etc. helps to keep me contected to people who are interested in "remote" places .