Naadam

Eriin Gurvan Naadam (three manly games) is a three day holiday in mid-July that commemorates the nation's 1921 revolution and their declaration as a free nation (though it's been said to have existed for centuries). The three manly games include wrestling, archery and horse racing and competitions occur all over the nation. The largest celebration is in Ulaanbaatar city, while smaller towns and regions will host their own games.

Lacking money myself (my grant has all but disappeared) I decided to stay in the city for the holiday period despite my original intentions of visiting the countryside. Tickets for the opening ceremonies at the Sports Stadium, which hosts the archery and wrestling events, were $25 for foreigners, which I unfortunately couldn't afford. So I joined a couple of my friends to wander the perimeter of the stadium. Tons of booths were set up, half of which sold khuushuur (a favorite food typically consisting of chopped mutton inside flour dough and deep-fried) and half of which sold anything and everything from Narantuul, a huge open air market which sells goods that are mostly from China.

After wandering around for about an hour we found the Luna Blanca tent and ordered some delicious vegetarian khuushuur. Not much else was happening and the clouds were looking ominous so we grabbed a taxi to a pub in town.

A friend of a friend had invited us over to his apartment that evening at nine. It was two. So we talked the bartender into opening up the karaoke bar for us and proceeded to sing The Beatles, The Cardigans, Madonna and a little Britney for the next four hours.

Essentially nothing was open that day, restaurants included, so we grabbed some produce from the only open grocery store we could find and made our own dinner. At nine we met up with the friend of a friend who's apartment was about as luxurious as you can get. He had half of the ninth floor with some huge windows framing some pretty amazing views, including an unobstructed view of Sukhbaatar Square. A huge concert was taking place on the square with Black Rose among others, which we watched from above and on TV. An impressive fireworks show was set off across the road from the apartment building and we had a great view from the balcony.

The final World Cup match was at 2:30 and I couldn't help but stay up to watch it. Twas a mistake on my behalf 1) because Netherlands lost and 2) because I had to get up early the next morning for the horse races. I got a call from my friend Tulga at 7:30am informing me of an 8am departure. We met up, grabbed a taxi out to the edge of town and transferred into a micro bus (a.k.a. cramped travel). In order to make the trip profitable, about 15 people have be on board. I was lucky enough to have a window seat, but the heavy traffic out of town meant that any breath of what should be fresh air was just a gulp of diesel fumes.

It was still worth it. About an hour later we made it to the incredible site of the horse racing finish line in the empty rolling hills about 20 kilometers out of UB. Hundreds of people were gathered around the finish watching the young jockeys gallop in.

We arrived just as the winning horse was crossing the finish line and saw the crowd of people rush to dab the sweat from the horse, a gesture to bring good luck. Others stayed in the bleachers to watch the runners up cross the line.

Depending on the age of the horse, races can stretch between 10 and 20 miles. It's a vigorous race and unfortunately too vigorous for some. As I was standing on the bleachers about 20 meters from the end, I saw a horse struggling to the finish. It picked up its front leg, but couldn't put it down before it collapsed. The jockey jumped off to the side looking helpless and afraid. Several policemen rushed over to the horse and started kicking its chest, presumably to get it's heart beating again. Unfortunately they had no luck. A few minutes later it had stopped breathing and went stiff. It was so sad to watch.

As the racing was winding down and the rains picking up we decided to call it a day and took a micro bus back into the city. I was so exhausted from the two days that I passed out as soon as I got home, awaking only for a few hours to join a friend for an Indian dinner at Hazara.

See more photos from the races on my flickr site.