by Megan Riordan
December is probably not the ideal month in which to explore the roller coasters of Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia. If the eye-watering, frostbite-inducing wind doesn’t get you, the snarling, rabid street dogs might.
Despite the Lonely Planet traveler guide’s warning, “Ulaan Baatar is the coldest capital city in the world,” my husband and I were not deterred, and set off to ‘honeymoon’ in Central Asia. With my younger sister serving in Mongolia as a Peace Corps volunteer, we had all the impetus we needed: a free place to stay and a Mongolian speaker to show us around. Neither the prospect of freezing nor the possibility of rabies could put a stop to our plans. What follows is part travelogue, part theme park guide and insight, and part encouragement to explore both the roller coasters and cultures beyond the United States.
Surrounded by mountains, Ulaan Baatar (UB, to the expatriate) cradles coal smoke in the valley of the city. Since many local Mongolians continue to live in traditional gers (circular felt yurts) fueled by coal, the scent hangs heavy in the air, clinging to clothes long after going indoors. Although smoke from coal burning may obscure some long range views in UB, Mongolia is nonetheless known as “Land of the Blue Sky,” with over 260 sunny days a year (Lonely Planet, 2001). The day we visited UB’s National Recreational Park, called Nairamdal Park (also known as Friendship Park or Children’s Park) the sun beamed in the sky even as we inhaled -16 degree coal-infused air.
Entering through a wrought iron gate from a rather obscure side street, the park was – for good and obvious reasons – empty. A thin layer of snow frosted the ground and wild street dogs ducked in and out of sewer pipes seeking warmth. Unlike the large, commercial parks in the U.S., this one has no special signs, no football field-sized parking lots, no banners or flags, and no admission charge – even in the summer. It’s a “pay-as-you-ride” kind of park wholly under the thumb of Mongolian government control. That last bit might explain why, after countless attempts via email correspondence with locals in UB, we came up empty handed in our quest to find out the price of each ride. However, when one US dollar buys 1050 Togrog (the Mongolian currency), and admission to a nearly 200 year old Buddhist monastery is 2000 Togrog, I don’t image a roller coaster ride would break the bank.
My husband and I counted five rides clustered together in one area: a Ferris wheel, a small roller coaster in the rough style of a wild mouse, a twirling tea cup-like ride, an “aerobicycle” sort of ride that resembles a bike on a monorail track, and a decrepit roundup type ride.
In addition to rides, we also spotted a small, graffiti-splashed movie theater and snack bar combination. Since popcorn, licorice, funnel cakes, and cotton candy haven’t made it to UB just yet, and the favorite local dish consists of fatty mutton tucked inside dough and boiled, I can’t quite imagine what this snack shack serves up. Not surprisingly, in mid-December, it too was closed.
Although our off-peak season travels meant we weren’t able to sample any of the park’s offerings, for the adventurous soul, Nairamdal Park should land a spot on the radar. While perhaps not as sexy or glamorous as parks in the U.S., Mongolia’s scene provides something much more rare: an unfiltered experience. No fantasy castles with pastel spirals greet the customer. No promotions plaster brochures. No vendors hawk T- shirts or stuffed animals. In Mongolia, one simply walks into a real park, with real (though admittedly 1970’s Soviet era) rides. That is the atmosphere of a park in Ulaan Baatar; just as the street dogs, icy winter winds, and lingering scent of coal are part of life in Mongolia as well.
Since the park only offers a small handful of rides, even the most gung-ho park enthusiast might start looking for something else to do. No worries, for Mongolia offers a wealth of other adventures for travelers. In UB, as mentioned above, there are several impressive Buddhist monasteries worth a visit. The most significant is Gandantegchinlen Khild (called “Gandan,” for short), which houses a gold statue that stands over 80 feet tall and was consecrated by the Dalai Lama. Gandan is the largest active monastery in Mongolia, and on the day we visited our senses were treated to a feast: bald-headed monks cloaked in orange robes chanting, frost-bitten red cheeked children tossing crumbs to hundreds of pigeons, gray wings flapping, and local Mongolians dressed in traditional clothing spinning silver prayer wheels.
Having made our journey specifically to visit my sister, we were also treated to Mongolian hospitality in the countryside near Choibalsan, the small eastern city in which she lives. As writer Jonathan Maslow said, “the line between ‘guest’ and ‘hostage’ becomes vague” in Central Asia, and our experience held this to be true. Picked up in a narrow van by my sister’s friends, we bumped off of the main road onto what can only be described as dirt: endless, far-as-the-eye-can-see craggy dirt steppe meeting a vast horizon. We were welcomed into a traditional ger where the following scene took place: our host offered (read: demanded) we drink vodka shots. Being a non-drinker, my husband and sister bravely stepped up, consuming 8 large shots in the space of two hours. Food was piled on a low table before us: gazelle meat stuffed into boiled dough, hard chunks of fermented mare’s milk, white cheese, candies, a thick side of mutton (or was it yak?), and steaming cups of buttery, salty tea. My slightly inebriated husband and I were dressed up in traditional clothes and colorful hats, and led outside into the bitter winter air to ride horses and camels while our hosts looked on, smiling (and no doubt laughing).
Clearly, the magic of Mongolia includes far more than a stop in Ulaan Baatar’s Nairamdal Park. If roller coasters are your driving passion, you will likely be better served by a Paramount Parks or a Disney trip (unless, of course, you are deeply passionate about ‘old-school’ rather sketchy rides). However, if the appeal of exploring a vast, wild country outside of theme park rides inspires you, Mongolia awaits. But, unless you happen to like dressing like the Michelin Man, I’d recommend waiting until springtime.
For more information on Mongolia, visit www.21DaysInMongolia.co.uk
