There is little or no difference between a Yurt and a Ger, except, perhaps, the spelling. Apparently, Yurt is the Turkish name for what Mongolian's call their Ger. so what is a Ger, you ask? Basically a Ger is the tent of a Mongolian nomad. It is a cylindrical construction that uses a hub, like a convex wagon wheel, as the centre of the roof and the mainstay of the Ger's strength. The walls and roof are a combination on layers of silk and felt sheets that make it both waterproof and wind proof. The central 'wheel' is supported by two vertical stay that stand like pillars either side of the fire that would be lit below. From the hub radiate many wooden spokes that support the roof fabric.
Apparently, it is bad luck, to the married inhabitants of the Ger, to walk between these sentinels, as they are symbolic of the partnership, and the transgressor would be coming between husband and wife. The Ger's door always faces south, to avoid the harsh north-easterly winds blowing from the Siberian steppes. The western side is traditionally for the male(s) and the eastern, females. And, at the rear, opposite the door, is the shrine - many Ger inhabitants are Buddhist.
When I arrived at the Ger camp, at about 08:00am, the hosts proudly put me into one of their newest Ger's - with electric underfloor heating. The temperature outside was about -25. Inside the Ger, it still felt like sitting in a freezer! After some breakfast, the Ger was no warmer and I had to ask my guide, Gurlie (a discriptive name if ever I heard!), if I could possibly down grade to a Ger with a fire. The more traditional Ger's have wood and/coal burning stoves and this is what I moved too. Within minutes of stoking the fire, the Ger was so warm that I could start stripping off some of my innumerable layers. The smell of burning wood was quite heady and I took the chance to take an old man's doze.
I awoke at about 9:30 and, donning my cold weather cloths again, took my camera for a walk around the camp. I was the only inhabitant, other than my guide, the two camp staff and a large and very friendly dog. I walked through ankle deep snow towards the hill top behind the camp. As I trudged through the unspoilt layer of clean white snow, I could hear the rustle of my salopets and the 'polystyrene' like squeak of the snow beneath my boots. I dangled my camera about my neck as the casing was getting too cold for me to hold for more than a few seconds. When I stopped, the silence was sublime. Brilliant blue sky, virgin snow landscape and hardly anything to suggest the 19th, let alone the 21st, century.
I realised that this is what I was looking for. You can keep your cities, with their glass towers, overcrowded streets and 24/7 commerciality. Even with the plunging temperature, the scene and the scenario where near idillic. I stayed outside for as long as I could stand the cold and then headed back to the Ger for a cup of tea. Following that, my guide and I went to the 'restaurant' Ger (?) in search of lunch. This consisted of a very garlicy carrot salad and meat dumplings, both of which tasted delicious. I wasn't too sure what the meat was, but it tasted rather like venison.
In the afternoon, I was taken to an authentic Ger village and met an elderly woman who lives in one of these permanently. I can't say it is an life that I would chose though. The reality is that this is a harsh and relentless existence in the winter, although summer temperatures do get up into the +30’sl. Imagine a bedsit, with cloth walls and an outside loo. Your nearest neighbours are your cows and yak are regarded as entertainment! My host did, however, have some modern accoutrements, in one corner (if you can have such a ting in a round tent) was a large flat screen tv.
Returning to our own camp, we had dinner - which consisted of coleslaw, noodles and more of the I identified meat. Girlie then showed me how to play a Mongolian game using the ankle bones of sheep - a little like a cross between Mahjong and carom - and thence to bed in my toasty warm Ger. in the early hours, the fire had burned low and I woke up starting to feel the cold. I was starting to wonder if I should get up and do something with the stove when I heard approaching footsteps in the snow. My Ger door opened and one of the staff crept in a quietly re-build the fire and soon, the brazier ablaze, I slipped back into silent slumber.
A quick word about Ulaanbataar (various spellings and pronunciations between London and Beijing!) - very cold! In fact it boasts of being the oldest capital city in the world. A big one on my tick list as, along with the fabled Timbuktu, it is a place most of us only every come across in Lionel Bart songs and geography lessons about Siberian and Mongolian Steppes. Other that that, I can't say it had much going for it. UB, as it is known to us backpackers, is home to just over one million people - roughly half the Outer Mongolian population. Despite that I could feel the razor like wind through my clothes. It has a terrible air pollution problem due to a combination of traffic, burning fossil fuels and the fact that it sits in bowl surrounded by mountains that restrict the flow of fresh air across the city. Next stop Beijing, home of the famous Peking Duck, amongst other things.
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