Mongolia Journey Conjures Up Thoughts
of Genghis Khan, Nomads and Yaks

  ULAANBAATAR, Mongolia – The road from the airport to the capital city evoked images of the American West. Vast plains of grasslands as far as you can see. Herds of horses running free.   A big, blue forever sky wallpapered against a backdrop of mountains that are more like large, brown hills.

  The sun was hot. The air dry.

  This is north-central Mongolia in summer.

  After a 22-hour journey, I was ready to explore.

Mongolia?

  As often happens when I announce a reporting trip to an obscure nation, a familiar question emerges: Why?

  In this case, while visiting my well-traveled cousin Allison Abraham in Portland, Ore., last fall, our conversation went something like this:

  Allison: Where you going next?

  Me: I have no idea. I’m running out of places.

  Allison: How about Mongolia?

  Me: The home of Genghis Khan. That sounds intriguing. I’m there.

  In fact, I wasn’t sure I could find Mongolia on a map. I thought it was part of China, similar to Tibet.

  Some probing revealed I wasn’t totally clueless. Once, there were two Mongolias – Inner and Outer. They were part of a larger Mongolian territory that eventually became controlled by China. Today, the former Outer Mongolia is the Mongolia I’m visiting, an independent nation with a multi-party system and free market economy.

  Meanwhile, Inner Mongolia is an autonomous region in northern China. The two Mongolias share the same language, a similar culture and a border stretching 2,880 miles – about the distance from New York to Seattle. But that’s the extent of the relationship.

  To the north lies Russia, Mongolia’s other border nation. More on that in a bit.

  Today, Mongolia is a landlocked country of 3.4 million people, about the size of Alaska. Around 40 percent of its people are nomads who raise horses, cattle, yaks, goats, camels and sheep and live off the country’s vast public grasslands. It’s rich in coal, gold, iron ore and copper.

  Half the population lives here, in the capital.

  That’s a problem.

The City

  We entered the city from the west. Two things became immediately clear. The sky was no longer a bright blue, and Ulaanbaatar [ooh-lan-bator] was as appealing as a debt collector in a cheap suit.

  In 1990, Ulaanbaatar's population was around 500,000. Today, three times as many people are living in a city that has been unable to keep pace with the growth. The result is a lack of housing, overcrowded roads and unhealthy air.

  The suburban cityscape is dominated by utilitarian high-rise apartments, most of them built in the early '90s when Mongolia emerged from being, effectively, a satellite state of the former Soviet Union.

  The pollution crisis was explained by our driver, Ebo. [In Mongolia, last names are insignificant, an ages-old custom.]   Coal is king here, supplying the country with most of its energy.   As if on cue, dirty smoke poured out of four massive towers that looked like nuclear power plants.

  Compounding the problem, according to Ebo, is the presence of clusters of nomadic-style homes on the city’s outskirts that burn coal for fuel.    During Ulaanbaatar’s long, harsh winters, it’s the world’s coldest capital city. The resulting fumes blend with those from the power plants, creating a toxic haze.

  This led to a discussion on the country’s leadership and efforts to effect change. Mongolia ‘s Soviet period [1921-90] was followed in 1991 by a move to a democrat form of government.

  As with many of the former Soviet satellite nations, and Russia itself, much of Mongolia’s cast of politicians remained mostly the same, resulting in considerable corruption.

  I asked Ebo his opinion of the latest news: Prime Minister Oyun-Erdene Luvsannamsrai resigned on June 3 after he lost a vote of confidence in the country’s Parliament. The deciding factor: The extravagant spending habits of his son, who blatantly documented his spending sprees on social media.

  Mongolians spent much of the spring in the streets protesting Oyun-Erdene’s four-year reign amid growing discontent with economic issues and widespread corruption, particularly in the country’s lucrative mining industry.

  His replacement, 55-year-old Gombojavyn Zandanshater, a veteran politician, won’t be much better, Ebo said.

  He hopes that a new generation of leaders elected last year, many of them millennials like himself, will bring much needed reform.

  “I support the protestors,” Ebo said. “But I believe that, in general, more people are living much better than before.”

Have Friend, Will Travel

  Did I mention I have a sidekick on this trip?

  Tom Kattar, a Lawrence, Mass., native and fellow Lebanese-American, joined me on the flight from Turkey to Ulaanbaatar.

  Tom was an aberration since I’ve always traveled solo on my reporting trips. Pals since our time as roommates in Beirut in the ‘70s – we endured the early days of Lebanon’s civil war together - I’ve since visited him and his wife Deborah in their subsequent homes in Singapore, London, Scotland, Dubai, Houston and, finally, Florida, where they have stayed put.

  I dropped in on Deborah and Tom, a retired investment broker and seasoned traveler, in March.

  This is how that conversation went:

  Tom: Where’s your next trip?

  George: Mongolia

  Tom: Ulaanbaatar

  George: What?

  Tom: Ulaanbaatar. That’s the capital.

  George: How in the world did you know that?

  Tom: I used to teach my kids world capitals. I always liked that one and have wanted to visit. Take me with you.

  George: I’ll think about it.

  Two months later, I told him he was in.

  How can you say no to a guy who knows the name of the Mongolian capital?

City Tour

  Later in the day we connected with our interpreter/guide, Maralmaa, for a short city tour. Our first stop: the National Park, which, frankly, is nothing special in terms of scenic beauty. Its significance is the fact that the city used almost a quarter of its greenspace to build it in 2009.

  More impressive is the view to the south of the Bogd Khan Uul Mountain. At 7,418 feet, it rises high above the city and, in 1778 became the world’s first protected peak.

  The park was mostly empty, surprising for a Sunday afternoon in summer. Maralmaa explained that the country’s most important holiday, the four-day Nadaam Festival, concluded on July 15 and that many locals were still celebrating with their families elsewhere in Mongolia.

  A lack of people was not the case at our next stop, the city’s Narantuul Market, widely known as the Black Market. Covering 54 acres and home to 15,000 workers, the outdoor bazaar is one of Asia’s largest.

  This is the nomads’ candy store. Everything they need to build and furnish their portable homes, called gers, care for their animals and dress themselves, can be found here. Other shoppers come for bargains and hard-to-find items. If you’re looking for a custom-made horse saddle, a fox-hair hat or a 100-liter, stainless steel water container, this is your place.

  We left the market and drove back through the city center to our rented apartment. Despite its issues, Ulaanbaatar has a number of pluses. Yes, it’s polluted, but the city is virtually devoid of litter – unheard of in developing nations – and it has a strictly enforced smoking ban.

  Although the downtown area still has some of the older, drab buildings, many new modern ones dot the skyline while others are in various stages of construction. By coincidence, two of them involve Maralmaa’s husband, Batzul, project manager for the construction company that built them.

  Like Ebo, our taxi driver, Maralmaa - a bright and ebullient millennial - believes her generation and the ones to follow will turn Ulaanbaatar around.

American Road Warriors

  One thing is clear: Mongolia is firmly on the road-less-traveled list.

  That was confirmed when I connected last month with Tyler Carner of Denver, who had just returned from a two-week, self-guided backcountry trip here. He was joined by his brother Ned, of Seattle, their wives and five children between the ages of 5 and 15. Their mode of transportation? A pair of Land Rovers filled with supplies.

  “During the entire trip we saw one couple traveling on their own,” he said, underscoring the reason for choosing this destination.

  “I come from a family of well-traveled adventurers. Everyone is looking for that last undiscovered place.”

  He was not disappointed.

  “I would describe it as a true adventure,” he said. “Once we were out of the city there were no roads and no land ownership. We could camp anywhere we wanted. Very little English was spoken by the nomads we encountered. It may have been what travel was like in the ‘40s. We truly parachuted into a different culture.”

  Although our agendas were considerably different, our reasons for choosing Mongolia were the same.

  Since I boarded my first overseas flight in 1974, everything about international travel has changed. 

  Except this: 

  The stories of the everyday people I’m privileged to meet remain as intriguing and compelling as ever.

  Editor’s note: First in a series from a reporting trip to Mongolia July 27-August 2 2025

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Reported and written by: George J. Tanber

Edited by: Michael Gordon

Photo editor: David Kozy