Inner Mongolia

Thursday evening, everybody in the foreign student dorms is looking up travel plans for the national day vacation. It’s only the first week of class, and we call up a small travel agency in Beijing University to set up a trip to Inner Mongolia. There’s only one minor detail that might cause a stir, we have to leave the next morning at 8:00 because this weekend and the following weekend are the last opportunities to go. Since the following weekend is the beginning of the National Day Break and many already have travel plans, leaving the next morning was the only option.

The trip was only going to be for Friday through Sunday, so packing wasn’t an issue. I grab five pairs of socks, my hiking shoes, four pairs of underwear, my beat khakis, and a few warm shirts. It’s September and it’s warm in Beijing, so I don’t bother bringing a jacket. Up until the time I went to bed I started skipping ahead in my Chinese lesson book. Chapter four is called “Alcohol is good stuff”, while in another class one of the dialogues teaches us how to say, “I’m not crazy, I’m drunk and I also vomited.” Alcohol is a commodity that unites the people of the world but I would hope it isn’t the only thing. I thought maybe I could find something in Mongolia that reminded me of home while also exposing one of the hidden wonders of China. Would I find anything authentic in Mongolia relative to my search for fortune and glory?

The car ride took several hours. Our tour guide whom we picked up in a small town two hours out from the site explained to us that we were all descended from Mongolians. Despite the fact that their skin was more yellow, and some of us were white, we were all originally from Mongolia. I imagined what a western anthropology professor might argue, but tended to focus on the sense of pride our tour guide had for his own people. His argument, despite its plausibility was a way for him to relate to us. I thought about the way Mongolians could have spread out to inhabit the rest of the planet while the tour guide explained the first custom at the Mongolian site: we had to drink the local alcohol before we got off the bus, three shots of it.

We arrived at a place that was perhaps as much as 45 minutes from any other city or town, a small chain of about 50 yurts, and much colder than Beijing. The first sip of alcohol was strong, and sour. It was as bad as any other cheap alcohol I’ve tasted. But for the sake of gaining one more cultural experience I took the three shots they demanded. After dropping off our bags at our yurts and locking the door we sat down to dinner. The alcohol was passed from person to person, nobody had any idea what it was but it must have been between Japanese sake and Vodka in strength. At the dinner table, the Mongolian host urged us to drink as much as we could, not stopping at the three shots we took getting off the bus. While this was an experience I could relate to at home, it led to one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life.

I bought a couple of Tsingtaos with one of my yurt mates to wash down the foul tasting Mongolian alcohol bombarding my digestive system. We sat around a fire outside, in freezing cold weather and ill equipped of clothing. There were other groups at the site who had come from Tsinghua and Beida as well, including many American students. We talked about the authenticity of the site, all of us a little skeptical, but for 250 Kuai we agreed it was probably worth it. I went to use the restroom, which was full, and I couldn’t wait. I stumbled outside of the gate to find a bush and when I finished I heard some scampering. Some of the dogs from inside had gone out, four of which were running back and forth playing some game of cat and mouse. I couldn’t really make it out, I was about 80 feet out and it was really dark. I turned to walk back and caught glimpse of the horizon. Just over the tree line was the big dipper, practically at eye level with me. I looked up further and saw more stars than I’d ever seen in my entire life. It was a truly amazing view, one that I can’t imagine I could’ve gotten elsewhere. Sure there were places in the United States without electricity where you could get an amazing view of the stars, but not with the big dipper just over the horizon. Not anywhere I’d heard of anyway. I grabbed the other guys to point out my find and went to bed within an hour.

The sunrise on day two left me with a similar feeling of amazement as I stood outside the gate where I was star gazing the night before. After the sunrise I went back to bed, skipping breakfast and sleeping until nine in the morning when we paid to rent a horse each for three hours. I was incredibly nervous. I’d never ridden a horse before, and I didn’t think it would be an easy thing to learn. Our tour guide suggested I looked adventurous and he convinced me. The horses galloped slowly, and within a small caravan. Sometimes one would get too close to another irritating it. The other horse would kick and they would jump up and down frustrated. We were all a little frightened but nobody got hurt.

The tour guides led us to a small hut where we could buy souvenirs. I bought a couple packages of beef jerky, which I never had an appetite for in the United States. I sat atop my horse waiting for the tour guide to start leading us, chewing on beef jerky while my hat blocked the sunlight from getting in my eyes. Looking around I felt proud of my friends for persuading me to ride the horse. I chewed my jerky vigorously and patted my horse with the other hand. I was hoping he’d gained respect for me and didn’t want to throw me off. Then the tour guide whipped my horse and it took off. The horse wasn’t merely jogging this time; it sprinted for about 50 yards while I stood up squeezing the body with my legs. When we returned to the campsite, I dismounted proud that I learned to ride a horse and proud that it took off running. I was also proud of the scars on my legs from bumping the stirrups due to my lack of horse-riding knowledge.

That weekend I learned that we were all descended from Mongolians; I saw the stars and the sunrise from a perspective I’ll probably never see again, and I learned to ride a horse. The next day we got back in the evening just in time to take an eight o’clock shower. I learned to appreciate my shower at Tsinghua as I showered off the horsehair and dirt I put on over the last two days. Inner Mongolia wasn’t quite what I expected but that’s exactly what I was looking for when we decided to go. It was time to plan my trip for national day week while I worked out a new budget for the remaining 11 weeks of the semester.