Ger Etiquette
(Our ger for a couple of nights.)
As we traveled through northern Mongolia, we began to pick up some basics of Mongolian etiquette. We were traveling in the countryside, so one of the first things we needed to learn was how to behave when visiting a family in their ger. A ger is what we commonly call a “yurt,” but “yurt” is a Russian word. After saying “yurt” and getting blank looks a few times, we learned to say “ger,” which rhymes with “hair.”
Our first ger visit came on a stormy afternoon in Hovsgol Province. Thunderheads marched across the valley, dropping more rain on the already drenched grassland. Tulga drove his Land Cruiser like a tank, crawling up slippery hillsides, and lurching down again, sending sheets of brown water flying when we plowed through the potholes at the bottom.
Around lunch time we saw a ger coming up, by the river, with smoke trailing from its stovepipe. Tulga turned off the road and drove across the grass. We climbed out of the car, happy to stretch our legs. A sodden dog woofed at us half-heartedly. Tulga called out “Nokhoi khori!,” just like I had read in books. It means “Hold the dog!” You say it even if there is no dog, and the dog in this case was tied to a post. Really it’s like calling, “Hello! Anybody home?”
A couple of teenage boys came out the door, and then a young girl, and then a middle aged woman. After a brief conversation, the woman waved us into the ger. Hospitality is a way of life in rural Mongolia. It’s considered good luck to have strangers stop for shelter during a storm.
As I entered the ger I reminded myself, when you step into a ger, don’t tread on the threshold. Once you’re inside, you see a small stove in the middle, and behind it against the far wall are several low chests with pictures, incense, and things arranged neatly, a sort of informal altar. Low beds are arranged around the sides, and they also serve as sofas to sit on during the day.
As a guest, you go into the ger to the left, clockwise. The owner and family sit on the right. Clockwise is the way you go in lots of places — in a ger, around an ovoo (a sacred cairn), or around a sacred tree. At the Buddhist temple in Ulaan Baatar, everyone walked around clockwise inside the main hall, and they even turned the prayer wheels clockwise. Of course this custom has nothing to do with a clock. Someone told me it’s the direction the sun’s rays shining in through the smoke hole move around on the floor of the ger as the day goes by.
There was a big pan of milk by the stove, and within minutes our hostess handed each of us a bowl of hot milk tea. You’re supposed to give and receive things with two hands, but in our eagerness to drink the tea we forgot. It was delicious and comforting on a cold, wet day. Everyone seems to keep milk tea or a big pan of milk at hand to make into tea. You just add a little water, a touch of salt, and some green tea, and let it steep. I’m not sure what kind of milk we were drinking—goat, sheep, yak, cow, or horse—but I’m guessing it was a blend in all the households we visited, except of course at the reindeer village, where it was reindeer milk. Whatever it was, it tasted great each time we had it. You often see big pans of milk turning into yogurt near the stove, too, and I think Mongolians make the best yogurt in the world, rich and creamy.
Our cook, Namuul, got busy by the stove, making lunch for everyone. Several more children arrived on a motorcycle, from a nearby ger. We all sat and stared at each other for a while, trying to make conversation through Tulga as our translator. I decided to get out some of the gifts we had brought along. I went out to the car, forgetting that as a guest I should step out the door backwards, to avoid turning my back to the altar. I don’t know whether anyone noticed or cared, because—of course—my back was turned.
I brought colored pencils and pads of paper for the kids, flashlights for the teens, and some lotion for the mom and older daughter, plus candy for everyone. The kids didn’t look too excited about the paper and pencils, so I went around to their side of the stove showed them how to fold a little box. That involved a lot of sign language and laughter, and when everyone had made a box, we decorated them with the pencils.
A few more tips we picked up — Don’t step over anyone’s feet or legs as you move around in the ger. When you go out to the privy, cough as a signal to anyone inside it. If you’re in the privy and someone approaches, cough so they won’t barge in on you. No one pets the dogs in the countryside, but cats are for kids to play with: I’ve never seen such laid back, kid-tolerant cats. And here’s my favorite: If you step on anyone’s foot, grab their hand and shake it. In Ulaan Baatar at a shaman’s ceremony, a woman stepped on Morley’s foot, then grabbed her arm and shook it vigorously, with a big smile. It turns an embarrassing mistake into a humorous greeting.
(There’s a great list of “Do’s and Don’t’s” at Tulga’s website, nomadictrails.com, on the “Travel Advisor” page, No. 10.)
