In mid July every year, all over Mongolia, business in the boomtown capital of Ulaanbaatar and in the tiny towns dotting the country comes to a standstill — as day laborers, miners, shopkeepers and almost every man, woman, and child head to their yurts to prepare for the Naadam Festival.
(Photo: Mark Fischer/Flickr)
Photo by Getty Images. Design by Lauren DeLuca for Yahoo Travel.
Deep in the Gobi Desert is an explorer’s dream: a real life dinosaur graveyard. Sixty million years ago, velociraptors and other dinosaurs roamed this part of the earth, which was then a grassy, leafy area. Now a stark desert, it is filled with their bones.
This site, Byanazag, otherwise known as the Flaming Cliffs, is especially famous because in the 1920s, American paleontologist Roy Chapman Andrews discovered dinosaur eggs there — proving dinosaurs were reptilian and didn’t have live births. Today, discoveries are still made every day.
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The Flaming Cliffs of Mongolia are full of dinosaur bones.
Unlike sites in other parts of the world, in Mongolia you can still wander around unobstructed on these cliffs. What looks like stone may be bone, but you have to lick it to see.
My guide, Timur Yadamsuren from Intrepid Travel, elucidated: “You have to lick it — if your tongue sticks to it, it is bone. If it doesn’t, it is stone.” [Note: It is entirely possible Timur was messing with me and just wanted me to lick a bunch of stones, but some did stick and others didn’t so…]
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However, if you do find dino bones (and, according to my sticky tongue, I did), it is illegal to remove them.
“You must take them to the museum or alert the government,” according to Timur.
An added bonus to this graveyard is the landscape, which, not unlike the Badlands in South Dakota, is made up of red and orange sandstone. So when the sun sets and the light strikes the cliffs, they look like they are on fire (hence the name, the Flaming Cliffs). It is a truly magical, mythical place and not one to be missed, especially for those of us who grew up dreaming of dinosaurs.
Thanks to Intrepid Travel for showing us such a good time in Mongolia!
Want more? Check out me getting Hazed by a Nomad Family in Mongolia:
Last year, Mongolia topped many people’s bucket lists, and slowly but surely tourists have been streaming into the land of Genghis Khan — but upon arrival in the capital, Ulaanbaatar, many are shocked. In a city of 1.3 million, over 60 percent live in utter poverty in the ger (tent) districts, some of which are nestled right next to gleaming new high rises that house newly minted millionaires and billionaires. Continue reading
When one thinks of hazing, one usually thinks of college fraternities and sororities. But, my friends, the American Greek system has nothing on the Mongolian nomads.
During my trip to Outer Mongolia this summer, I learned about the Nomad Code — which, according to my guide, Timur Yadamsuren from Intrepid Travel, is basically, if anyone rolls up on your door, you have to give them food, drink, and shelter. “If you don’t, they might not survive. And the next time you are traveling, they will give you shelter — or you might not survive.”
The road trip started off so well… and sober.
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My crew and I called on this Nomad Code outside of the Singing Sand Dunes in the Southern part of the country, with a friendly ger (yurt) family headed by Ankhaa. We were quickly joined by his curious neighbors. But Timur had neglected to tell us about Mongolian hospitality — or, as Americans might call it, hazing.
The local poison sold at every kwickie mart in the country. Photo credit: Richard Hirst/Flickr.
After eating camel milk curd, drinking camel milk tea, and then milking said camels to replenish the liquids we had downed, my crew and I were about to go on our way when we remembered the bottles of vodka we had bought for presents to give out to helpful families during our road trip. Our host Ankhaa and his neighbors definitely qualified, so we whipped out a bottle of Chingghis Khan vodka for the families.
What we didn’t realize is that if you present a bottle, you are also expected to drink it with the host. We also were unaware that Mongolian “shots” are soup bowls, and you are expected to down it in one go … and that you cannot have just one.
My producer Nicola with her fifth bowl of vodka. Togtoy!
Because you just never know when you’re going to need this knowledge. Trust.
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This summer, I fulfilled a lifelong dream: visiting Mongolia. I’d read about Genghis Khan and his conquests for years and had always wanted to visit — a bucket list dream come true, if you will. I decided to do a road trip, as, 800 years after the Great Khan died, over one-third of the population still leads a nomadic lifestyle, living in gers (yurts), with their cattle (camels, cows, goats, and yaks) roaming the fields outside. Not much has changed over the years except for the method of transportation. In the older days, the ger would be wrapped up and put on a camel’s back for the move to fertile fields, while today, it is loaded up on a truck.
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My chariot on the ultimate Mongolian road trip — an old-school, soviet-style van with no shocks and no seat belts. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
And, as there are few hotels outside of the capital, Ulaanbaatar, one must rely on the Nomad Code to survive. Which basically means rolling up on an unsuspecting family and asking to spend the night.
My guide, Timor from Intrepid Travel, explained.
“If someone comes to your door, you must give them food and shelter,” Timor said. “Or they might not survive. And the next time you are traveling, they will give you shelter — or you might not survive.”
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Welcome. Yurts, or gers, like this are seen throughout the country. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
The first ger we rolled up to was outside of the singing sand dunes. It had been a long day and I had climbed a 50-meter-high sand dune. I was hungry, dirty, and tired. Thankfully, Ankhaa, the owner of the yurt, was hospitable.
Ankhaa in his ger, looking very Jean Paul Gaultier. (Photo: Paula Froelich)
As the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and poet Carl Sandburg once said, “Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.” This is how I feel about travel. While I plan the trip, the best part is meeting people along the way — and sometimes, very rarely, running into someone you adore whom you never thought you’d see again.
Candace and me, hanging in the Jordan Bar in Amman.
This was the case with Candace Lau. As you may remember, I went skiing in Afghanistan last year for the Afghan Ski Challenge and met Candace, an Australian woman who had set off to travel around the world for as long and as cheaply as possible. She is fearless, and cheap in the Middle East meant public transportation — so she cross-dressed her way across Pakistan and Afghanistan and parts of Iran. We met during her Afghanistan leg and have been Facebook friends ever since.
If you don’t remember Candace or her story (which was insane), watch this before you go any further; it adds context and will reintroduce my crazy pal:
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When I left Candace in Afghanistan, I wasn’t sure if I would ever see her again — not just because she was a Western woman traveling alone as a man in one of the most conservative Islamic countries in the world, but because the fact of travel is: You meet people on the road who change your life, and due to time, distance, finances, and opportunity, most times you have to carry them in your heart, as seeing them in person again is unlikely.
So I was beyond shocked when I ran into Candace — randomly, I might add — in Jordan last month. She’d escaped Afghanistan (just barely — watch the video at the beginning of this piece to hear the story; it’s shocking that she’s still alive) and taken a bus into Iran before heading to Israel, Palestine, and Jordan.
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I was traveling through Jordan in a tricked-out tour bus like a Persian Liberace on the loose and had oodles of room, so I invited her onboard for the rest of the week that I was in the country.
This was my bus. Not kidding. There were four of us riding in it — with Candace, five. I felt like Cher.
You may be asking, “What the heck? What kind of budget do you have over there?” The answer is none. We did these past few Jordan shoots with the help of the Jordanian Tourism board, and my producer, Nicola, had told them, “It’s four of us and our equipment — please make sure we have access to something larger than a Land Rover.” They gave us the ultimate party bus. We were in heaven. And ready to take on more passengers — like Candace.
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“Come on — you can take a decent shower, have awesome dinners, and we can hang!” I told her. “Besides, you said you always wanted to see Wadi Rum.” Candace, who’d been thinking of heading north instead of south, changed her plans and agreed.
And so we got a chance to really catch up.
“What was Iran like?” I asked.
“It was great — it had paved roads,” she said. “I was on a bus from Herat [Afghanistan], and it was so bumpy and awful I thought I was going to [vomit], and the second we crossed into Iran, it was paved roads and smooth sailing.”
Candace, me, and the “A Broad Abroad” crew arriving in Wadi Rum.
Hilariously, she also said that her mother (back in Australia) — who clearly had no access to the Internet or Facebook — had no idea what she’d been up to for the past couple of years.
“She thinks I’m in Austria working,” Candace said. “I didn’t want to worry her, so … but I will tell her everything when I go home at the end of this year.”
We also took Candace to Petra, on the way to Wadi Rum.
We got to Wadi Rum via Petra, and after two days, which included a hoedown in the desert, Bedouin style, and several camel treks, Candace left to herd goats with the family of a friend of a friend deeper in the desert for a week. It was surreal and magical running into a friend who had made such a big impression on me in such a short time — and it’s part of the beauty of life on the road, traveling.
Candace is now in India, still rocking and making her way (very slowly) back to Australia. We wish her luck!
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Once a year at the end of October on Inle Lake in Myanmar, there is a festival of epic proportions. The lake’s canals and surrounding waterways are jammed with long boats rowed by over 100 men, all wearing fishing pants and dress shirts. But the most amazing thing to witness is that they row with their legs. Not kidding.
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An over-the-top festival on Inle Lake. (Photo: Andrew Rothschild)
Four out of five golden Buddha statues from the Phaung-Daw-Oo Pagoda are carried on a royal barge and taken around to 15 villages on the lake. Hundreds of boats follow the two-week-long procession. As they squeeze through narrow canals with the music pumping and the rower’s legs churning, it turns into one heck of a party.
On the banks of the Irrawaddy River, several hundred miles north of Yangon in Myanmar, lies Bagan — a once secret and all-but-abandoned city, dedicated to Buddha. Covering an area of 40 miles are endless temples and stupas in varying degrees of disarray and decay.
Bagan is an ancient city that is perhaps the embodiment of one of the biggest lessons in history — all things must come to an end.
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You may not have heard about Bagan, but you’ll want to put it on your bucket list. (Andrew Rothschild)
While some locals claim that the city was officially founded in the 2nd century A.D., it didn’t come to prominence until the 7th century. From 1044 to 1287, it became a seat of power, and more than 10,000 religious buildings were erected – many by wealthier citizens hoping to get in good with the Buddha. The theory was that if you built a big stupa or temple, you wouldn’t be reincarnated again; you would go straight to nirvana.
Buddhist nuns are everywhere among the streets of Myanmar — of all different ages, some as young as 5. Dressed in pink loose-fitting shirts and pants with orange scarves, they have shaved heads and rely on alms to pay for their schooling, food, housing, and other basic needs.
The nunnery is a safe place in a country where poor girls have very little hope for a safe future. (Andrew Rothschild for Yahoo)
Monks don’t have the same economic handicaps. The large temples pay for their needs, but that’s not surprising. In Myanmar, being a woman is hard, more so if you are poor and live in the north of the country, where tribes are still battling the government.
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Girls in these areas are in a precarious position, constantly in danger of being trafficked across foreign borders. According to the United Nations Inter-Agency Project on Human Trafficking:
“Myanmar is a source country for women, children, and men trafficked for the purposes of forced labour and commercial sexual exploitation. Myanmar people are trafficked to Thailand, China, Malaysia, South Korea, and Macau for sexual exploitation, domestic servitude, and forced labour.”