Sylvia's Journal

Saturday was a day of play and rest for Maggie and me while our trainers completed their last day. Our guide and interpreter took us to the Gandan Monastery which is located on the edge of the city. It was established at its current location in 1838 and grew over the next century into a complex that included 9 dastans or institutes, a library and housing for some 5000 monks. It attracted people from all over who practiced the Tibetan form of Buddhism. I recognized the similarity with the monasteries Axel and I visited in Sikkim some years ago.

In 1938 the communists destroyed most (some 900) monasteries in the country. Five of the Gandan monastery temples were destroyed and what was left served as barracks for Russian soldiers or barns for their horses. The monastery did continue to function, although under strict supervision and on a very small scale during the rest of the communist era until the Democratic Revolution of 1990.

Now the place is thriving again and expanding. There are 10 temples and some 900 monks. Our guide keeps calling them monkeys, not out of disrespect but because she confuses the words. After all, if one is monk, two might well be monkees. It is a logical mistake.

An enormous golden statue (my guess: some 3 stories high) of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Janraisig (Chenresig in Tibetan) stands in the center of the biggest temple which has become a symbol of independence for Mongolians. The original was carted off to the USSR and can be seen in the Hermitage we were told. How they got it out of the building (and how the Mongolians got a copy back in) is a miracle, the latter attesting to the craftsmanship of the Mongolians.

In other temples monks were reciting from the (Tibetan) books of prayer, rocking back and forth. They received gifts, like boxes of Choco Pies which were placed next to religious artifacts, creating some dissonance for me but apparently none for the locals.

We followed our guide and received blessings from several monks by bending over in front of their seat. They placed the prayer book on our forehead. Leaving the temple is a bit tricky with the uneven stones and high thresholds because once cannot turn one’s back on what is inside the temple. It occurred to me that for wheelchair users a visit to this temple is at least for now, out of the question.

An American gentleman started to follow us and listen in to our interpreter’s explanations. We invited him to join us and discovered that he is a visiting OB/management and strategy professor at a Chinese university and was in Mongolian to cross one item of his bucket list, a motorcycle ride across the steppes. He had already done one from the most southern tip of South America to Alaska. He is a circumnavigator, an elite club of people who have gone around the world a few times. It includes many celebrities, among them the former queen of Sikkim, who I knew about from our Sikkim travels.

Outside the temple complex are souvenir shops that sell trinkets, mass-produced art and amulets for protection against the dangers of the world. We decided that our new friend needed to buy some protection against the dangers of traversing Mongolia on a motor bike. Maggie and I bought a charm to protect me against flattery and her against interferences to doing a good job. For a dollar and a quarter each, we also bought 9 hedge hock quills in a shaman’s shop. A dollar and a quarter is not much, we reasoned, to protect us against the dangers of travel. We did not buy the more powerful protection, in the shape of an embroidered roll, for 25000 Mongolian Tughrik (about 14 dollars), considering this a tad too much for superstition.

At the end of Saturday we returned to the Rehab Center to be part of the graduation ceremony. We found the students and trainers sitting in a circle and sharing the impact of the week of hard work. Our trainers were sitting each next to a translator so they could follow the heartfelt words from the participants. It was very moving to hear how people had been affected and obscured all the hassles and frustrations of the week (and believe me, there were a few).

Since Maggie had done the speechifying at the beginning, I got to do this at the end. It is always easier because the group has bonded and I could talk about the difference I had witnessed and do some exhorting which now made sense to everyone. The institute’s general director handed out the certificates, we applauded a lot, made the group photo, exchanged contact information and cleaned up the room to set up for Monday’s managers workshop. This is an important part of the package because these newly trained providers will need a lot of management support to apply what they learned.

We treated ourselves to a dinner at Modern Nomad, a chain of Mongolian restaurants in the region. The UB restaurant featured a daily show of traditional music and dancing which we didn’t want to miss. It was also the last evening here in UB for our Indian trainer who was leaving the next morning.

The first thing that struck me when the players entered was their ‘indian-ness’ (as in Native American Indian): the woman’s headdress with the dangling turquoise and silver beads, the rain tube, the fringed skirts and shirts, the animal symbols, the throaty songs and of course the facial features. The instruments, especially a one by five feet lap harp with many strings, the felt boots, the fur coats and the drum made from a Chinese tea box indicated that we were in a cold place near China.

But now (urban) Mongolians dress in North Face and drink coffee (lattes) which the Russian introduced quite successfully, taken out from Starbuck-look-alikes in paper cups. Their music comes out of their smart phones through ear buds. A large Times-Square-size TV screen on the main drag advertises for shades and blinds that are controlled by an app from one’s iPhone. I was asked whether Mongolia was connected to the world. Urban Mongolia clearly is, but there are 1000s of miles in each direction where nomads still roam and life is probably the way it has been for ever. Although I have a suspicion that they may have iPhones with an app that tells them the weather and where the grass is greener.

The cousins who traveled across the Bering Straits millions of years ago must have dropped some of the habits and clothing traditions as they moved closer and closer to the equator and beyond. I wondered whether the rain tube, which I associate with the Amazon Indians, travelled south or if not, how and when did it get here?

The musical instruments were variations on traditional Western string instruments but more angular, with the strings being made from bunches of silk strands, the bows not that different. The cello had a bull’s head at the top; later I also saw them with horse heads. Like the Native Americans, animals feature prominently in the traditional lives of Mongolians.