We next found ourselves hurtling along a brand new highway through vast open grasslands in pursuit of the “authentic” Mongolian lifestyle. From our tour buses, we could look out the windows and see ethnic Mongolians（满族）tending cattle or sheep in large rolling pastures. Overall, it appeared something like a cross between Ireland (for the lack of trees and open grass) and Montana (for the way that the sky dominated the landscape). The locals were certainly not nomadic, as fences dotted the landscape intermittently, though periodically they would be on horseback. More strikingly, the distant landscape was dotted with coal-fired electric plants and power lines scattering in all directions. Periodically we would drive by enormous open coal mines that ruptured the landscape, only to be further ruptured by large billboards displaying a pristine Mongolian steppe in the background with a environmentally-conscious Chinese businessman in the foreground, demonstrating how traditional agriculture and modern technology will be able to seamlessly integrate into Inner Mongolia.
At last, we were welcomed into the Mongol “village” – a collection of newly-constructed round sheds (蒙古包) and a string of ponies lower down the hill. By this time, our tour guides had disposed of their own Mongul attire and gave us a quick lesson in how-not-to-offend the locals. We would be welcomed with the traditional shot of white liquor （下马酒）. Before drinking it, we had to take the fourth finger of our right hand and dip it into the cup, flicking once to heaven, once to the ground, and making a crescent on our foreheads. Failing this, we might be run out of the place for being culturally insensitive. But it was all part of the touristy game, as the locals who welcomed us to their lodge in song reminded me of the greeters at TGIFridays. Nevertheless, we partook in the customs and walked three times around their religious site （喇嘛台）, then tossing a ribbon-clad rock onto the large stone marker.
Before lunch, we took turns riding on horses and a grumpy camel. The horses and riders were certainly authentic, and there were certainly no release forms to be signed. However, even the most experienced riders in the group were led in a tame walk by one of the locals. The camel ride cost 30 RMB extra for a ten minute jaunt, but it seemed worth it to have done once. Once I was airborne, the gait was surprisingly comfortable, and I found myself thinking that I would rather ride a camel all day than a horse.
At lunch, we scattered to about a dozen tables surrounding a central dance floor in the “lodge”. Several of the Mongolians had changed into performance attire, including one lady in cow girl boots. Two different men played the Ma tou qin (马头琴) for us. Their skill was exquisite. This particular instrument is Mongolian, and resembles the erhu, although its sound is much more pleasant. Unfortunately for our Western sensibilities, they amplified their instruments with a strategically placed microphone while playing along with a synthetic back-up recording of drums and other instruments, such that it might be mistaken for a rock ‘n’ roll concert. Several Mongolian folk songs later, we finished chewing on the boiled lamb and slowly worked our ways back to the buses.
Five minutes out of the cluster of homes and huts, our director had the buses pull up for a photo opportunity. This portion of the road was nearly pristine. There was green grass in all directions, no factories to be seen and only the distant hills separating us from the Russian border. After the photo, two students decided it might be nice to quickly jog to the top of the nearby hill and take a photo. Within two or three minutes, the entire group was charging up the grassy incline in a long beeline. For some, the sprint quickly turned into a jog which turned into a slow walk; others charged the entire quarter-mile distance. I was impressed to find such a strong masochistic streak in the group, and perhaps it can be chalked up to the type of people who are attracted to studying Chinese.
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