The Land of Blue Sky, Part 4: Naadam

A week after we arrived in Mongolia, we came back to Ulaanbaatar for a weekend to celebrate Mongolia's biggest festival of the year, Naadam. Naadam means "games" and refers to the "three virile sports" of wrestling, archery and horse racing.

Ariuntsetseg met us bright and early at the Bayangol Hotel on a chilly, overcast Saturday morning. The streets were packed with people ready for the three-day holiday as we made our way to Sükhbaatar Square. There the nine standards of the Mongols -- lances with long horsetail tassels -- were paraded around Government Palace and then marched down to the National Stadium for the opening ceremony of Naadam.



Ariuntsetseg got us to the stadium about an hour before the ceremony was to begin, so we were able to get good seats. Our section seemed to be the favorite of all the tour companies, as were surrounded by many, many foreign tourists. Still, the Naadam festival is definitely a Mongolian affair -- the stadium was packed with tens of thousands of people. It seemed to us that half the city had come out to watch the games.


The horsetail standards made their way into the stadium and took their place on the field. Throughout the weekend we would see athletes coming to pay their respects to the standards. An honor guard surrounded the standards at all times -- day and night. When it rained (as it did often that weekend), guards came out with special rain covers to keep the standards dry. It would have been easy to dismiss all of it as something put on for us tourists, but it was obvious that every Mongol took the matter very seriously.



The highlight of the opening ceremonies was the appearance of Chinggis Khaan, with his mother descending from the heavens (via zipline) to present him with a sword.




Famous athletes from previous Naadam competitions paraded around the stadium as the military band played. The President of Mongolia gave a brief speech. And then ... the games began.




We stayed in the stadium to watch the first couple of rounds of wrestling. The object of Mongolian wrestling is to get your opponent to touch the ground with a knee and elbow, or torso. Unlike other forms of wrestling, there is no time limit and no weight classes, which makes for some interesting matches. The wrestlers wear a tight, sleeved jacket called a jodag. The front is open to expose the wrestler’s chest -- supposedly dating back to a wrestling contest in which a wrestler defeated every opponent on the field, only to reveal that she was a woman. Wrestlers also wear tiny briefs called shuudag and traditional Mongolian leather boots, or gutul.


When wrestlers enter the field, they perform a dance that looks like an eagle in flight. The winning wrestler in a match helps his opponent up; the loser unties his jacket and ducks under the winner's arm. Then the winner repeats the eagle dance. Some wrestlers are only perfunctory dancers, but most of them take it very seriously.


Ariuntsetseg was amused at how engaged we were in the wrestling. We both like combat sports, and with so many matches going on simultaneously, it was easy to find interesting and exciting fights to watch.

We later made our way out of the stadium to the archery pavilion. Mongolian archery features the infamous Mongol bow, a recurved composite bow that was used to deadly effect by Mongol warriors for centuries. Today's bows are not as powerful, but a good archer is still highly respected.


The purpose is to hit a target of wicker baskets 75 meters (246 feet) away. Archers usually wear traditional Mongol clothing: the standard Mongol wool or silk robe called a deel, tied with a silk sash, over wool or silk pants and gutul. Archers also wear a traditional hat that may bear a badge showing their rank as competitors.


Women are also allowed to compete as archers. They seem to opt for fancier footwear.



Mongols also play games with shagai -- the anklebones of sheep. Shagai games were set up next to the archery pavilion. The most popular shagai game at Naadam is anklebone shooting, where players flick a rib bone of a sheep at a set of two or three anklebones set up in a target. Rib bones that miss the target are thrown back to the shooter, but those that hit are handled by each of the other shooters, who toss the bone into the air and then pass it down the line.



We spent most of the day on the stadium grounds. As it got colder and rainier, we decided to head back to the hotel and get some rest for the next day's event -- the horse races.

Horse races are the highlight of Naadam and are held on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar. These are cross-country races of distances from 15 km (9.3 miles) to 30 km (18.6 miles), depending on the age of the horses running. The horses are trained for months beforehand to build their endurance. Like human marathon runners, the racing horses don't have a spare ounce of fat on them. Horse trainers judge the fitness of the horse by the quality of its sweat -- a "mud sweat" indicates a horse that cannot go the full distance, but a well-trained horse will have a sweat so clear that it can be drunk like water.

The jockeys are children. This was the first year that two new rules were implemented for Naadam: all jockeys had to wear a helmet and none could be younger than eight years old.


The race is about the horses, not the jockeys, so even a horse that loses its rider can still complete the race. Of course, the winning horse is celebrated with songs and the ritual sprinkling of mare's milk. People compete to touch the winning horse's sweat, which is lucky.

However, the last horse to complete each race is also celebrated. He is called the "full stomach" horse, and a special song is sung for him to wish him better luck in the races next year.

The races are held in the steppe about two hours' drive outside the city. Hundreds of cars joined us on the trip, and thousands of people covered the hills surrounding the finish line. A carefree, carnival atmosphere pervaded the scene, with children flying kites, mothers setting up picnic lunches, and men comparing the merits of various horse training techniques.


Because the races are so long, people wait along the finish line to see the last couple of kilometers. This race was for the two-year-olds, the youngest horses to race at Naadam. As the horses neared the finish line, thousands of spectators cheered them on. Chase vehicles with camera crews broadcast the race live on television.





However, the race did not end well for all of the competitors. This horse collapsed about a kilometer from the finish line. He never got up again. His jockey (in the pale blue jersey) stayed with him until the race organizers pulled him away. At least one or two horses die every year in the races.


Near the race grounds was an area called the Culture Naadam Nomad Arts Festival. It featured a series of tents and kiosks with displays on all aspects of traditional Mongolian culture, such as clothing, calligraphy, felt making, and the like. It was obviously set up more for tourists than for Mongols, but the Mongols still crowded each of the displays.



In the calligraphy tent we could hear an American woman trying to explain what she wanted written:

"'Culture of Nobility.' Can you write that for me? 'Cause that's what Mongolia is for me -- a culture of nobility. Nobility? You know what that means? 'Culture of Nobility'...."


Horse acrobats put on a show -- they had been at the opening ceremonies the day before, but we were much closer this time.




Horses were everywhere -- here we could see that Mongolia truly is still a horse culture. People used horses the way we would use bicycles or cars or even our own two feet. Teenaged girls gossiping ... on horseback. Teenaged boys cruising for chicks ... on horseback. Drunk guys causing trouble ... on horseback. It was a lot of fun to watch.







These two guys wanted to get into the Culture Naadam area. "What do you mean, no horses allowed?!"


That afternoon we drove back into the city to return to the stadium. As it turned out our tickets weren't good to get into the main stadium that day, so we wandered around the stalls and kiosks outside. It was a little like a state fair, with food and souvenirs. Of course, the people-watching was excellent.





A massive rainstorm blew in, so we ducked into a tent to eat khuushuur and drink salty milk tea, while watching the wrestling on television. It was one of our favorite moments of the trip.


That evening we watched the last two rounds of wrestling in our hotel room. The commentators all agreed that it had been a very successful Naadam festival -- in the 803rd year since the birth of the Great Mongolian State (roughly, the time when Chinggis Khaan became ... well, Chinggis Khaan).

Monday was still a holiday. We walked over to Sükhbaatar Square for the "Deeltei Mongol National Costumes Festival," a show of traditional clothing from all of the various ethnic groups in Mongolia.










Like so many of the other events around Naadam, we would've thought this was something for the tourists, but almost all of the people there were Mongols. Everyone came out for the show wearing their best.




Even this guy.


There was also a display of different gers, complete with price list -- sort of like a "Parade of Houses," except without the pushy real estate agents. We were sorely tempted by the hobbit-sized "Garden Ger."



It was neat to see how easily the gers are put together -- two men can assemble a small ger in less than an hour. After all, nomads need mobile housing.



So easy, even a child can do it!


Soon it was time to head back to the hotel and pack our bags for our evening flight. At 8:00pm we planned to be on a plane to the Gobi Desert.