Tea Time in Mongolia*

Written July 9, 2008

A few days ago, we were blessed with good weather, yet simultaneously faced with a brief pause in the research. The whole group took the chance to drive up the bumpy road (called the worst in Mongolia!) to see the four other valleys that line the lake besides our own (Dalbay).

The scenery was stunning. After the recent rainfall, rivers were gushing, fish were spawning, and flowers were blooming from mountaintop to sand dune. But despite the majestic views of the lake and mountains, the highlight of the trip involved a single elderly woman.

Although I never learned her name, this native Mongolian knew our traveling companion, Dr. Clyde Goulden (ANSP), from his years of work in the region. When he stopped to say hello, she invited us inside.

Outside, some members of our party chose to play with the herd of goats, but I jumped at the chance to enter her circular ger.

Careful not to step on the threshold, we stepped inside and moved in a clockwise pattern, sitting on some tired-looking beds across from the blazing wood stove (it must have been about 80F outside!). As she began to warm some milk, she told us (through our translator/guide/grad-student, Anarmaa) that she has lived with her son-in-law in this valley for the past 10 years. Before her husband died, they lived in the neighboring valley with their herds of goats and yaks.

Although the wooden frames of this ger were not a selaborately painted as our rental gers, a vibrantly colored cloth (think: wallpaper) hung from the ceiling. Also hanging from the ceiling were racks of lamb and other chunks of meat, slowly drying (and attracting flies) in the heat.

When the milk finished heating, she added tea and salt and poured it into cups (think: small bowls) for each of us. As we drank the traditional (and ubiquitous) milk-tea, she cut up some freshly made bread and filled a bowl with yak butter, surely the best butter I've ever tasted. In addition to the bread, she also served aaruul, which is essentially dried cheese curd. Impossible to chew, the aaruul had to melt in your mouth before you could taste the (stale) milky goodness. Once we finished our snack, we said "bayerlaa" (thank you) and began to leave. But our hostess wasn't done. She handed over two fresh jars of yogurt and butter, and then proceeded to take her bread and aaruul our to the five or six Americans who hadn't entered the crowded ger.

As we left, we all just couldn't believe the amazing hospitality. This woman did not know us, would never see us again, and got nothing from us (apparently, it would've been rude to pay her). She was simply friendly and kind. What a trip...