The Ger Experience

The ger has figured into my imagination ever since I saw it on an ARTE documentary six years ago in France. The ger represented the lifestyle I aspired to: self sufficient, cozy, and nomadic. Imagine feeling at home no matter where your travels take you.

The Interior
A ger in real life certainly did justice to all the expectations I had. It even held a few surprises as I banged my forehead (hard!) on the low doorframe the first few times upon entering. Vertically challenged folks like myself rarely ever have to duck for anything. Once, my head hit the doorway so hard that one of the roof poles got jolted off its socket and fell down. Once inside, you were surrounded by a warm, colorful interior. Mongolian interiors taught me that being portable and resourceful does not mean having to be frugal about creating a nice home. The gers we visited were always decked out in painted furniture (bright orange was the most common color) with decorative trim in all colors of the rainbow. Fabrics of flowers or traditional motifs covered up the lattice frame and grey insulation felt. Oriental rugs and woven images of Ghengis Khan were also popular.

Modern conveniences
It wasn’t uncommon for nomads to have cell phones but electricity and running water were not matters to take for granted. Water was strictly a ”supply your own” affair. (As in, buy liters over the counter at a barely stocked Socialist style grocery store.) Electricity was something we encountered on our second night in a ger: a light bulb lit by a wire dangling from a little black box (later identified as a car battery). The same family had a small television in the main ger and as much as I begged to turn it on for the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, the idea was shot down. I suspect we missed out on the ultimate Mongolian-Habitaters bonding experience. These were, after all, people that had a photo of sumo champion Asashoryo taped up beside their family photo.

Brrrrrrr!
Because it was midseason, the Mongolian families we stayed with had not taken a decisive stand regarding the hole that was our ceiling. The wheel that crowned the top of the ger allowed the chimney pipe to poke through and for us, a view of the stars. At Orkhon, our ger family left the top mostly covered and kept us stocked with bits of wood to feed the stove to keep warm. The following night in the Mongol Els, the top was uncovered and we got a little sense of what it might be like to feel cold in Mongolia. (Until that night, we were spoiled with perfectly comfortable climate). I layered my remaining clean clothes onto my body, kept my dirty socks on my feet, and curled up in the fetal position inside the sleeping bag. The best decision I made was not using the foam pad as a mattress on the hard bed (it wasn’t noticeably effective anyway) but kept it rolled up as a pillow. My shoulders sighed ‘thank you!’ the next morning.

“What’s that?”
In the main family ger (which the family abandoned for our group to sleep in), I saw a small fabric something hanging next to a decorative banner. It had pockets which held toothbrushes and toothpaste. So stark and simple. To have around what you need and leave the excess behind. It was a contrast to my bathroom back home where 21 bottles of assorted creams and cleansers sit beside the sink. We were so lucky to have gotten a peek into life as a nomad. The experience of sleeping in a ger was not the comfort in the paradise sense, but that was part of what made it such a fascinating, beautiful experience.

This entry was posted on October 18, 2008 at 8:46 am and is filed under A first, Life-altering, Mongolia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.