China by train

Nadaam is a national holiday, celebrated throughout Mongolia. It is a festival of national identity which centres around the Three Games of Men; wrestling, archery and horse racing. This is slightly misleading however, as we saw quite as many female archers as male, the horses were ridden exclusively by children and there are four games rather than three.
Having missed pretty much everything the previous day I was determined that we should see some events. We had already resigned ourselves to the idea that we would not get into the actual stadium during Nadaam. Tickets for the opening and closing ceremonies can only be bought in person the week before, through a tour agency as part of a package or else from touts at a mark-up. Around the stadium however there is a very festive scene with hundreds of ordinary Mongolians who also did not have tickets and were there for the free events and the general atmosphere. Apart from the ceremonies which by all accounts are very good, the only sport practiced in the main arena is wrestling. Mongolian wrestling is a little like Cumberland wrestling crossed with Sumo. The competitors are enormous, the ritual elements complex and the rules utterly arcane. We watched some of it on the television and it seemed to involve three or four referees for every bout, which only occasionally resulted in any definitive conclusion. Though I am sure it is all quite fascinating to the initiate,we all felt we could quite easily give this interminable dance of fat men a miss. What I was not prepared to miss was the archery and the knuckle-bone shooting. The latter mainly because I had absolutely no idea what it was. I had done my research of course, but Wikipedia, Google, YouTube etc. had left me really none the wiser. We were fortunate to be well in time to witness the final rounds of the competition and at least improve our understanding, even if the finer points continue to elude.
We were to discover that knuckle-bones, or rather more accurately ankle bones, particularly of sheep, hold a fascination with Mongolians. We encountered four different games that can be played with them and perhaps there are more. This particular game is somewhat like skittles. A number of bones are placed in an ornate box with the open side facing a seated shooter some 5 meters distant. The shooter has a wooden runner, on which is placed a sort of counter. This counter is the projectile which must be flicked along the runner and knock down the ankle bones. The number of targets decreases as the game progresses and it seems that competitors are eliminated when they fail to hit. It appears to be a team game, though the precise mechanics of how this works escapes me. The two teams are seated, ranged between the shooters and the target, creating a shooting gallery. Once the shot has been made the projectile is returned to the shooter, being lobbed from hand to hand by his team mates, occasionally rubbed for good luck. All this is accompanied by a singing chant with ululations. As there were several matches being played concurrently the sound within the hall, or tent as it is euphemistically described, is cacophonous
Feeling that we had got as much the measure of knuckle-bone shooting as was likely without expert guidance we headed for the archery field. Our programme advertised a "display of national archery". Given that we were visiting a nation who pride themselves on having once conquered half the world by dint of their skills with bow and horse this seemed unmissable. Indeed we were not the only ones who thought so. The archery field has an open fronted stadium at one end and bleacher seating at the sides. We installed ourselves half an hour in advance in the stadium and by the time the display started there was not even standing room. In fact the standing crowd made it rather difficult to see the event unless one also stood, thus blocking the view from those behind. Much calling and shouting at those in front ensued and in the end an intermittent view of the proceedings was possible.
As this first event of the day was a display rather than a competition there were many preliminary announcements, a singing of one of the more catchy national anthems of the world and shuffling around of the crowd by the police. Proceedings commenced with a sole archer firing off a shot, whether it actually hit the target I cannot tell as the view was severely compromised by later comers standing at the railings. This was followed by riders in historical warrior garb racing onto the field in spectacular fashion and then shooting from their galloping horses at a boss. I am sorry to say that the skills of the Mongolian horse archer must rather have deteriorated in the last half millenia or so as very few shots found their target. In spite of this it was an impressive sight. The warriors returned from whence they had come and things came to a close. We returned once more to the field for some competitive archery later and once more the following day.
Standard competitive archery in Mongolia involves a recurve bow shooting at a distance of 75 meters for men and 60 for women, at a row of blocks some 30 by 10 centimeters large, placed on the ground with the central blocks being painted red. Depending on the type and stage of competition there are between 4 and as many as thirty umpires impressively close to these targets, who will indicate to the archer and score keepers how the arrows have fallen by semaphore. A good strike is signalled by raising both arms and slowly gyrating whilst singing. It is all rather jolly, particularly in the later stages of the competition where the eliminated archers have now taken position around the target and are now acting as extra umpires.
We returned to the archery field the next day for the final rounds of the competition , taking a more advantageous position in the bleachers along the side, which afforded an equally good view of both archer and target. For me this was the highlight of the Nadaam festival. All the competitors were dressed in the most beautiful individual interpretations of traditional dress and the level of skill was sometimes extraordinary, with women regularly outperforming their male colleagues. Most of all what I enjoyed was the feeling of witnessing a supportive community. Although I imagine that the caché of having won at the capital's Nadaam must be great I never felt that there was any ill-will or jealousy. Everybody seemed genuinely pleased for the more successful archers and by the time the last arrows were being fired a large crowd of those who had been eliminated had gathered around the targets gesturing towards the centre to help the arrows on their way and singing heartily when they found their mark, turning with their hands aloft.
Where there is a festival there is fast food. By far the most popular food on offer at Nadaam is khuushur, minced mutton deep-fried in batter. It is surprisingly moreish, Helix and I consumed quite a few over the few days we were there and even Lila, a part time vegetarian had to admit that they weren't too bad. Is suspect that my final one might have been a little suspect however and my digestive system informed me in no uncertain terms that enough was as good as a feast.
The first day's proceedings were rounded off with the postponed concert in Suhkbataar Square. Although I am a little ambivalent about Mongolia's obsession with its ancient history I was lead to think that their nostalgia industry was rather more impressive than their pop music. Even our own teeny-bopper was decidedly unmoved by the terribly derivative drivel. Still, we managed to have a little shimmy, much to the bewilderment of the locals who seem a very reserved bunch, almost totally resistant to exhortations by the bands to get up and boogie. Perhaps they found the music as dreadful as we did. When the band launched into the national anthem however everyone was back in their comfort zones and joined in with gusto. Similarly uninhibited was the firework display, choreographed to the theme "make everything go now".
It was not only our dancing that evening which had drawn stares. Ever since arriving in Mongolia we have been asked to pose for photographs. It is Lila who seems the most fascinating but we have all been asked, both in Mongolia and China to pose with various people for their albums. The requests come from both the young and middle-aged and what might sound quite creepy is requested with such innocent smiles that there seems no reason to refuse. I have even been asked for a photo because I was eating kurshur, so odd must it have seemed to see a Westerner eating this food.
As I mentioned, Nadaam is celebrated throughout Mongolia and many regions and communities hold competitions of the Three (Four) Games. Many people will tell you that the festival is best witnessed outside of the capital, where one can get closer to the action and there are no ticketed events. This may well be true, but with nearly half of the entire country's population living in the capital the city's Nadaam is a genuine example of how "real" Mongolians live.Read more