Post by Owen on Jul 15, 2024 9:51:37 GMT
1 ~~~ Getting lost in Mongolia, the world's last truly nomadic realm
Stanley Stewart revisits the Mongolian steppes of his past and immerses himself again in a world of wild horses, chain-smoking shamans, and the haunting songs of nomads.
When people ask me what is my favourite place in the wide world of places to which I have travelled, there is never any hesitation.
I love Mongolia so much that I once spent five months crossing a thousand miles of it on horseback, the baggage horse loaded with a rattling collection of gear, from a temperamental stove to a rapidly disappearing bottle of whiskey.
I wrote a book about the journey that was translated into a dozen languages.
I fell in love with a Mongolian, an intense affair that unwound over years.
It ended two decades ago. She has moved on, wisely. But Mongolia is still there. And it was time to go back.
From the air, the emptiness is always startling.
Flying over Mongolia before dawn, I saw no lights below, just unfolding landscapes: a spooling river, a range of mountains surging across steppelands, an empire of grass tipping to undisturbed horizons.
Only Greenland and the Falkland Islands have a lower population density.
The one sign of habitation were the occasional encampments of round white yurts, known here as gers, which appear suddenly and mysteriously in the grasslands like overnight mushrooms.
In a few weeks they will vanish and spring up elsewhere, leaving no trace other than pale circles on the grass as the nomads move to winter pastures.
Mongolia is the world's last truly nomadic realm.
www.cntraveller.com/article/getting-lost-in-mongolia-the-worlds-last-truly-nomadic-realm?
Stanley Stewart revisits the Mongolian steppes of his past and immerses himself again in a world of wild horses, chain-smoking shamans, and the haunting songs of nomads.
When people ask me what is my favourite place in the wide world of places to which I have travelled, there is never any hesitation.
I love Mongolia so much that I once spent five months crossing a thousand miles of it on horseback, the baggage horse loaded with a rattling collection of gear, from a temperamental stove to a rapidly disappearing bottle of whiskey.
I wrote a book about the journey that was translated into a dozen languages.
I fell in love with a Mongolian, an intense affair that unwound over years.
It ended two decades ago. She has moved on, wisely. But Mongolia is still there. And it was time to go back.
From the air, the emptiness is always startling.
Flying over Mongolia before dawn, I saw no lights below, just unfolding landscapes: a spooling river, a range of mountains surging across steppelands, an empire of grass tipping to undisturbed horizons.
Only Greenland and the Falkland Islands have a lower population density.
The one sign of habitation were the occasional encampments of round white yurts, known here as gers, which appear suddenly and mysteriously in the grasslands like overnight mushrooms.
In a few weeks they will vanish and spring up elsewhere, leaving no trace other than pale circles on the grass as the nomads move to winter pastures.
Mongolia is the world's last truly nomadic realm.
www.cntraveller.com/article/getting-lost-in-mongolia-the-worlds-last-truly-nomadic-realm?