Go with the flow: Life lessons from a road trip in Mongolia

The first thing that struck me upon arriving in Mongolia was how much time I suddenly had on my hands. There were the long periods spent in our van, getting from one place to the next. The hours without mobile reception. The restless feeling of not having a packed schedule.

My friends and I had come to Mongolia in anticipation of a 15-day adventure exploring its volcanoes and vast steppes, and learning about its rich and storied nomadic culture. However, what we didn’t anticipate was having to unlearn our very Singaporean attitude of wanting to “optimise” our holiday by sightseeing as much as possible. By the end of the trip, we had fully unwound ourselves from this mindset, and learnt to relish the moments in between.

“We will get there when we get there,” was what Nara, our guide for the trip, often said to us, and this was not only an apt attitude for our trip, but perhaps also a fitting motto for life. 

An underrated destination

Flanked by China and Russia, Mongolia is a landlocked country, with mountains to the north and west, and the Gobi Desert in the south. Despite its long history as a power player on the Silk Road, a once-vital trade route that opened Asia to the West, Mongolia felt to me like a destination of mystery, one that was seldom featured in pop culture and rarely mentioned on social media.

My friends and I, being at the crossroads of our careers, were feeling the call of adventure. The five of us wanted to go somewhere different from the cities we had previously travelled to as a group. Planning the trip was relatively straightforward. We did some research and found a travel agency that arranges tours across the country with a guide, a driver and vehicle – these were essential as transport options are limited, and the weather in Mongolia can get extreme. We wanted an authentic experience, and so, for a part of our trip, we planned to stay with nomadic families in their homes.

Mongolia is one of the last great nomadic cultures of the world; 30 per cent of the population are still nomadic herders, living in traditional gers (yurts) and moving with their livestock as their ancestors have done for thousands of years, updated with modern touches like solar panels and satellite dishes. 

Having the opportunity to live with nomadic families and interact with this unique culture was what I looked forward to the most. Being a curious person by nature, I am drawn to encounters that allow me to catch a glimpse of lives not shown on television or social media. When I travel, I want to be able to walk in the shoes of others, if only for a few days.

Embracing tranquility

Our journey began in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s capital. Riding an old but hardy Soviet-era van, we would make our way to Kharkhorin, the ancient capital of Mongolia; Chuluut Canyon, home to dormant volcano craters and a crystal blue lake; and Orkhon Valley, where a nomadic family would teach us horseback riding. During the first few days, we found ourselves constantly frustrated by delays in our journey.

When changes in weather turned a three-hour car ride into five, thoughts like, “We did just one thing today? That’s what I paid for?” would spring to mind. It took us some time to let go of our expectations, and realise that nature was bigger than us; we had to respect the rhythm of nature and what it allowed us to do.

Doing so allowed us to become fully present and more deeply immersed in our environment. As we slowly journeyed through central Mongolia, we fell into deep conversations with each other, dissecting the dilemmas that burdened our minds. We bonded with our guide Nara and driver Dawa, getting to know about them and their lives. We rested, read, ate snacks, and watched aweinspiring views unfurl before our eyes, stopping for photos whenever we felt like it. There was so much peace in realising that the journey was the adventure.

Moments of extraordinary beauty found their way to us by pure chance. At Hustai National Park, we saw a herd of takhis, a species of wild horses native to Central Asia that had been hunted to extinction in Mongolia at one point, but were reintroduced in the 1990s.

We had been told that we might see them if we were lucky, but I couldn’t believe it when we did. It was pure magic – an animal back from the brink of extinction – and they came so close that we could take photos with just our phone cameras. We felt so lucky and privileged.

Steppes away from home

From hiking the strange rock formations and volcanoes of Chuluut Canyon, to trying our hand at archery, there were plenty of unforgettable moments in Mongolia. But the few nights we spent as guests in the homes of nomadic families are the memories that will stay with me for life.

Homestays with nomadic families are similar to camping in many ways. There are no hot showers and no running water, and the toilet is essentially a wooden outhouse with no flush. It’s a luxury to be welcomed into the homes of Mongolians with kindness, warmth and generosity.

Living with a family and meeting their children and relatives, and somehow conversing across the language barrier – with the help of our guide who doubled as a translator – is the kind of encounter that gives travel meaning. The gers themselves are a wonder: utilitarian on the outside, but cosy on the inside. And who could complain about having a vast steppe of mythic beauty in their backyard?

Learning about the lifestyles of nomadic families was fascinating. Our hosts were millennials like us, young and adept with technology; their homes are equipped with solar panels and satellite dishes. Their children, aged five to seven, have developed fluent English skills, largely from watching Youtube.

Yet, they still uphold their ancestors’ millennia-old lifestyle, relying on their livestock for food and nourishment – yak milk for their meals, ropes braided from the hair trimmed from their horses, and dried dung that’s used as fuel for their stoves.

When greener pastures are needed for their livestock, they could uproot their entire homes in two hours and be on their way. As Singaporeans, we are conditioned to value security and stability. Walking alongside nomadic Mongolians for a few days taught me to accept the very impermanent nature of life.

They have accepted change as a part of life, and I found it beautiful – the way they defy our natural human instinct to resist the fact that all things will end, and we must move on.

Embracing the unexpected also helped us get over the practical concerns that were initially a bit of a culture shock. It was one thing to see non-flushing wooden toilets in pictures, but a whole other sensory experience to actually use them in the height of summer. The food also took some getting used to. We knew going there that Mongolian diets were heavy on meat, but the reality of eating it three times a day took some time to digest.

Still, our palates adapted, and we grew to enjoy the nourishing qualities of our Mongolian meals. Dishes, like a simple milk and grain porridge for breakfast, were made from ingredients that felt wholesome.

The milk was always incredibly fresh, almost like water in consistency, and faintly savoury, with no lingering aftertaste. It is used in Mongolian milk tea – a staple in the local diet – which tastes like melted butter.

Spirited away

Buddhism is a significant part of Mongolian history, having been introduced as early as the 6th century. Today, about half of the population continues to practise Buddhism.

We visited two of Mongolia’s most famous Buddhist monasteries, including the Tuvkhun Monastery, which sits over 2,200m above sea level in the Khangai Mountains of Mongolia’s Orkhon Valley.

Built in 1653, it is one of the country’s oldest monasteries. We chose to hike there, and the trek was both exhausting and meditative, taking us through cedar forests and rocky formations. Near the summit, we found ourselves bouldering to reach the monastery. The second was Aryabal Temple, located on a mountain in the Terelj Tuv province. Founded in 1810 as a meditation retreat, it was restored in 2000 after being destroyed by communists in the 1930s.

Unexpectedly, both trips turned into spontaneous opportunities for introspection. We had the chance to chat with a resident monk at Tuvkhun Monastery, who invited us to “ask him anything”.

His dedication to his chosen path and his heartfelt responses to our questions were so genuine and filled with conviction that they brought me to the verge of tears. When asked how to find contentment in life, the monk explained that it is about treating others with generosity without expecting anything in return.

We were invited to meditate at Aryabal Temple. After so many days on the road, I could feel the shift in my mindset. I realised we didn’t need much to be content in life, but our busy lifestyles have conditioned us to think otherwise.

Back in the urban reality of Ulaanbaatar, we spent one of our last days in Mongolia at the National Amusement Park, which is actually a free park – you only need to pay for the rides if you want to go on them.

In my opinion, it offers a peaceful “third space” where you can relax with an ice cream and people watch, and take in the sunset. We did a lot in Mongolia, but the deeper memories are intangible. Under its wide open skies, amid the deep silence of its steppes, I found my voice, telling me what my heart was saying.

By connecting with nature and untethering from the expectations of modern life, I learnt to reconnect with my authentic self.