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Uriankhai nomad in the Altai
Mountains greeting the day
with traditional droplets of milk
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Imagine a country where wherever you turn the scenery is astonishingly
beautiful and always different: immense, unending plains, windswept steppes
suddenly broken by a stream, a rock outcrop, sand dune or a mountain range
pushing up against a vast sky. Mountain passes that wind tightly through
gorges lined with grazing yaks, sheep and goats or low rolling valleys
where distant shapes magically turn into grazing two humped Bactrian camels
or herds of horses. Imagine a landscape across which you can spy a rider
perched high on his horse as he gallops across a green carpeted terrain,
or the occasional isolated cluster of two to three tiny white dots, which
as you approach, materialize into the traditional nomad homes or “gers”
bright with ritual colors inside. And imagine the warmest possible welcome
from the nomad inhabitants: Khalkhs, Uriankhais, Kazakhs, where
even before you enter the stove is already being cranked up to serve you
tea, and the traditional curds, cheese and sweets are already being laid
out. And imagine your visits always being a mutual exchange of smiles,
humor, culture, traditions and song. This is Mongolia. |
