Food in Mostar: Sadrvan & Hindin Hanby Randi / August 31, 2013 Early one morning after several days in Sarajevo, we took a rickety, smoke-filled train (again!) to the tiny town of Mostar, down in the Herzegovina region of the country. This route had even more beautiful views.
I know!
This is the reason for going to Mostar
Mostar is most famous because of its devastatingly beautiful bridge, Stari Most. Because of it, and because it’s a pleasant (now) little town, it is a very popular tourist stop. In the old city section and of course on the bridge, you’ll be caught in throngs of tourists, most of whom are over from Dubrovnik for the day. (It makes an easy day trip from there, which all the tour companies can seduce you with, but I recommend coming down from Sarajevo so you can see more of the country.)
I didn’t care about the crowds, because this site is so lovely and so historically interesting. Stari Most, or the Old Bridge, was built in the 16th century and was a marvel for its time, “the longest only single-span stone arch in the world” (so says my Rick Steves guidebook in an unattributed quote). The strong bridge stood up during the World Wars, becoming a lasting symbol of Herzegovina.
Despite having withstood so many foes, the 1990s war proved too much for the bridge. As bombing hit Mostar in 1993, the bridge suffered direct hits. Then one final shell hit, and the people watched as the symbol of their history and home collapsed into the Neretva River.
I didn’t care about the crowds, because this site is so lovely and so historically interesting. Stari Most, or the Old Bridge, was built in the 16th century and was a marvel for its time, “the longest only single-span stone arch in the world” (so says my Rick Steves guidebook in an unattributed quote). The strong bridge stood up during the World Wars, becoming a lasting symbol of Herzegovina.
Despite having withstood so many foes, the 1990s war proved too much for the bridge. As bombing hit Mostar in 1993, the bridge suffered direct hits. Then one final shell hit, and the people watched as the symbol of their history and home collapsed into the Neretva River.
The view from the bridge in Mostar (not to be confused with the play Scarlett Johansson won a Tony for #trivia)
Although the destruction of the bridge was strategic, as it cut off supplies for those living in the city, it really was a brutal symbolic devastation.
Thankfully, the bridge was reconstructed after the war. Stones from the original bridge were salvaged from the water (by divers from the Hungarian army) and used in the rebuilding. The rest was cut from the original quarry, and workers rebuilt using the same technology as used in the 16th century, to guarantee authenticity. It’s one of those rare cases where the reconstructed monument is just as impressive as the original would have been, but perhaps even more meaningful.
Thankfully, the bridge was reconstructed after the war. Stones from the original bridge were salvaged from the water (by divers from the Hungarian army) and used in the rebuilding. The rest was cut from the original quarry, and workers rebuilt using the same technology as used in the 16th century, to guarantee authenticity. It’s one of those rare cases where the reconstructed monument is just as impressive as the original would have been, but perhaps even more meaningful.
Walking around the old town, you’ll probably feel like you do in most heavily touristed European city centers, with vendors trying to hock whatever goods they can sell you with the town name written on them, and at least one gelato cart on every corner. (The good news – several of the carts had accidentally vegan fruit flavors! One English-speaking vendor even answered my “Does this flavor have milk in it?” with “No, all of our fruit flavors are made with water.” Pretty awesome. Just ask, though, because just a few yards away another vendor told me, “All ice cream has milk!” with a dumb look on her dumb face.)
As in Sarajevo, it’s worth paying for a short tour, because odds are your guide lived here during the war. I called Alma Elezovic (aelezovic@gmail.com), recommended in the Rick Steves guide, but she was busy so she sent her son Yaz. He was fantastic. He seriously spoke English better than I do, and spoke it with a perfect (and east coast?) American accent. I asked where he spent his time in America and he said he’s never been. Linguists, go study him. It was only 20 euro per person for more than 2 hours (which is all it takes to get around the old town), and included entry into a mosque.
As in Sarajevo, it’s worth paying for a short tour, because odds are your guide lived here during the war. I called Alma Elezovic (aelezovic@gmail.com), recommended in the Rick Steves guide, but she was busy so she sent her son Yaz. He was fantastic. He seriously spoke English better than I do, and spoke it with a perfect (and east coast?) American accent. I asked where he spent his time in America and he said he’s never been. Linguists, go study him. It was only 20 euro per person for more than 2 hours (which is all it takes to get around the old town), and included entry into a mosque.
The former front line of Mostar
This street was the front line during the war. Yaz said that on any day, bodies would fill the streets. Relatives were too scared of being gunned down by snipers to retrieve the bodies.
The future site of the Mostar Synagogue, on the former front line
This lot is the future home of the Mostar Synagogue. During the war, Jews acted as intermediaries, crossing the front line to transport supplies and information. As thanks for their heroism, the city offered to donate any piece of land the Jewish community wanted, and they chose this symbolic spot right on the former front line.
Doesn’t get old
Don’t try this!
You’ll probably see young men in bathing suits (*cough* Speedos *cough*) on Stari Most hustling tourists for money. They are soliciting donations to jump into the river, which is dangerous not only because of the height but because the temperature drops about 50 degrees from the bridge to the water. The divers will wet themselves first to reset their body temperature (and probably will again after they jump heyoooo!).
Outside the old town, you’ll see what is so prevalent around Bosnia-Herzegovina – the juxtaposition of the new, modern rebuilding and the decrepit, destroyed buildings from the war. It’s quite shocking to see such buildings next to each other, isn’t it?
The food isn’t great for vegans, but here’s a recap of what I ate.
It’s worth spending a night here so you can take your time, walk outside of the touristy center, and enjoy Mostar in the evening. We stayed at a lovely pension just a few minutes from the bridge, called Pansion Cardak. The woman who runs it, Suzana, is the nicest ever. The rooms (four in total) are clean, simple, and affordable.
I highly recommend that you fit a trip to Mostar into your itinerary. Stari Most is really so beautiful, and the interesting history of the small town is worth learning about. Mostar makes a great day trip from Dubrovnik, or better yet a stopover from Sarajevo to Dubrovnik or Montenegro.
It’s worth spending a night here so you can take your time, walk outside of the touristy center, and enjoy Mostar in the evening. We stayed at a lovely pension just a few minutes from the bridge, called Pansion Cardak. The woman who runs it, Suzana, is the nicest ever. The rooms (four in total) are clean, simple, and affordable.
I highly recommend that you fit a trip to Mostar into your itinerary. Stari Most is really so beautiful, and the interesting history of the small town is worth learning about. Mostar makes a great day trip from Dubrovnik, or better yet a stopover from Sarajevo to Dubrovnik or Montenegro.
One last view of Mostar, taken at dawn
Related Posts
Madeira, Portugal: Lovely Little Island Paradise (for Oldies and Old-Adjacents)
Not just a fortified wine! The small island of Madeira, off the southwest coast of Portugal, is a popular resort-holiday spot for European vacationers, and for dern good reason. One of two autonomous regions of Portugal, Madeira is gorgeous, relaxing, and manageable enough to see in a short visit. Quiet but not boring, the best thing to do there is enjoy the scenery and the vibe, not run to check off a list of museums and sights that tourists must *absolutely* do like in many places, so you are free to enjoy your time in a stress-free and carefree manner. Because it’s one of the most popular cruise ship ports, it’s hella filled with white-haired people at all times. Also, the resorts tend to cater to families more than young adults, but happily that means nightlife is not the focus (i.e. you don’t hear awful house music emanating from clubs when you are in bed at 10pm). My kind of place!
The largest city on Madeira is Funchal, and we spent our whole time exploring this great city. If you like to hike and climb mountains and be cold and stuff, the hills outside the city might be cute for you, but Funchal was a perfect base to learn about the culture and people of Madeira (and to swim in an indoor pool (honestly my fave)). Although the weather in Funchal is pretty much always pleasant, it doesn’t get very hot (especially in December, when we were there). But that’s fine because, despite being an island, it’s not a beach town. Madeira was formed of volcanic eruptions and so is rocky and volcanoey, without the sandy beaches you might be thinking of when you hear ‘island paradise’. Kind of like the pretty side of Santorini. Unless you’re visiting via cruise ship (and so more aware of the ocean aspect), it’s best to think of Funchal as a lovely, pleasant European town that just happens to be an island closest to Africa.
Like all lovely and pleasant European towns, Funchal is best introduced through a stroll. We walked around with no particular aim on our first day and found beautiful city gardens open to the public, lots of fountains and statues (and stories!), and lots of cruise passengers. Walking in view of the marina (but not super close to it; marinas tend to be more industrial looking close-up) and thus the ocean was beautiful and instantly transporting. I love getting to know a city through aimless strolling, and Funchal is one of the best for that.
oh this piece of shit
In our strolling, we chanced upon various Christmas markets, which European towns hella love having. I guess saying we ‘chanced’ upon it is kind of misleading because it was almost Christmastime so it should have been hundo p expected at every step of the way. If we didn’t see one it would have been weird. There were long parts of main streets overtaken by street vendors (mostly with alcohol) as well as kid-friendly areas repping that north pole spirit.
When I said before that most of the street offerings were alcoholic, I bet you thought of Madeira wine. And while that was everywhere, the real star of the market stalls was ginjinha, a traditional Portuguese liquor made from ginja (sour cherry) berries. We became acquainted with ginjinha during our first trip to mainland Portugal, where we saw little shops selling the stuff on every block and saw Portoguesers line up outside to drink it in little shots. It’s a potent sumbitch, and trying it once what, 8 years ago? would be enough for me, especially considering that might have been the last time I had alcohol, but these vendors were Christmassing it up by serving it in little chocolate cups. After one vendor confirmed that the chococups were dairy-free, I had to get one.
|
|
you can see I tried to just eat the chocolate but then realized that wasn’t going to work |
The ginja (for short) wasn’t my favorite match for a little cup of chocolate (that would be peanut butter) but it was nice to get chocolate and an experience in one go.
The festive spirit spread all over town, with amusement parks popping up in the center and art installations or what have you, I’m not really sure what to call it but there were THINGS and we walked INTO THEM like this cool jawn:
so pretty right but what to call it? an inside out xmas tree? cool cool cool
Although strolling and chilling are great, we did have a list of things to do and see in Funchal. First up was the Madeira Botanical Garden. It’s open to the public now but was previously part of an estate belonging to William Reid, the founder of Funchal’s premiere hotel, Reid’s Palace, which you can stay in if you are Jeff Bezos I guess. (#billionairesareinherentlyimmoralandshouldntexist) It’s fancy and expensive like a real lot, is what I’m saying. Anyway the Botanical Garden, or in Portuguese the Jardim Botanico da Madeira (much better if only because I love the word ‘jardim’ for garden a) it sounds prettier and b) it sounds like what happens when my mom tries to say Javier Bardem too quickly) is a great place to explore on a sunny afternoon. Funchal, and Madeira in general, has an exorbitant number of beautiful gardens to visit, and this one features mainly non-flower specimens like trees and succulents, which sound delicious.
little lizard friend!
all of Eleanor’s files
While it’s cool to be on Madeira but have it look like you’re in Arizona, the Javier Bardem Botanico isn’t my top garden recommendation unless you really like cacti. No, the best garden in Funchal is my favorite place of the whole trip, the Baller Gardens. Oh that’s what I wrote in my notes. It’s apparently actually called the Jardim Tropical Monte Palace.
up in the treetops of the jungle area
Whereas the Jardim Botanico was reminiscent of a desert climate, the Tropical Monty will make you feel like you’re in every other part of the world, from Africa to China to the jungles of South America. It’s an enormous town unto itself, with exotic plants and extravagant design elements that make for an endless maze of mind-blowing views.
you bet i hopped across that !
This sign stands in front of an olive tree that the Romans planted in 300 BC! That’s super long ago! |
Hey super old tree! Did you know Cato (obvs I mean Cato the Elder) |
like a scene out of a GOTTAMN FAIRY TALE
|
|
These pictures show maybe half the grounds. It goes on forever and I highly recommend leaving a whole afternoon to explore and relax. There’s even a whole museum of Zimbabwean sculptures on the grounds!
Both of the gardens I’ve shared are located to the east of the city center, and they’re both up Monte Funchal. And when they say Monte, they mean Monte, as in, the top of a mountain. All of Madeira is very, shall we say, bumpy, so you need to plan how you get to the outskirts of the city center. We took a local bus to the Jardim Botanico, and it was a harrowing journey. It’s bad enough when you’re trying to navigate those super narrow cliff-face roads going round and round and round and hoping no opposing traffic comes. It’s worse when you are doing this on a big public bus. Man alive!
Happily, we had a different plan for the Tropically Monty, as I call my new fave place. Funchal has a cable car, and it goes from the center directly to the grounds of the Tropical Monte Palace! We love a good cable car or funicular, but this one is EXTRA. Funchal’s teleferico, as its called, is one of the longest ones in the world, with a ride over the gorge of 15 minutes! It doesn’t sound like a whole lot but it feels like a whole lot when you are that high about mountain crevices. Luckily the views distracted me from the impending sense of doom.
We picked out a lot of ‘future houses’ on these rides up and down! How cool would it be to have a lovely little terracoota roofed home on the side of a cliff with NO NEIGHBORS MAKING NOISE sigh that’s the life.
At the top of the Monte Palace (Monty Hall?) there’s a cafe and fortunately the only thing I could make out was vegan is also the best thing: fried semolina wedges. It was the perfect little snack before all the gardening.
|
why yes i DO have a bomb appetite |
Not everything was perfectly loverly though. We did a thing that seemed like The Thing To Do so we did it, but it was Not the Thing For Me. I’m talking about a whale-watching boat tour. The boat, the company, the accommodations all were great. But. Apparently I get seasick! I enjoyed the amazing views for about 20 minutes and then I spent the remaining hours bent over the side of the boat. SO GROSS. So not fun. At least I wasn’t the only one; we were dropping like flies. The worst part is that we didn’t see any whales! Booo-arf!
boats are monsters
my main view
But one unfortunate experience of the trip is still a pretty great ratio, and now I know that boat tours are my enemies. And we still have so much to talk about! Namely, lodging and, namelier, food! That’ll be the next post. Until then, my dear-a! DO YOU GET IT.
Naadam in Mongolia: The National Festival of the Three Sports of Chingis Khan
Once we decided to do the Trans-Mongolian instead of the Trans-Siberian (Mongolia and China instead of just lots more Siberia? not a hard decision), we knew we had to line up our dates so that we landed in Mongolia in time for Naadam, the most important festival and event in the Mongolian calendar (I mean it’s the only festival and event in the Mongolian calendar that I know, so I could be wrong about that but I’m probably right). The three-day festival is like the country’s own Olympics, celebrating the Three Sports of Men, or the Three Sports of Chingis (Genghis) Khan, something like that. In our English language pamphlets handed out in the stadium it says “Three Manly Sports” which is hilarious so let’s say it’s that one. Those three exalted sports are wrestling, archery, and horse-racing. Seems straightforward enough, right? Ha!
Naadam is held from July 11 to July 13, although the closing ceremony occurs on the night of July 12 and stuff still continues the next day or so but don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Naadams are held all over the country like each little town’s and region’s own little special olympics (lowercase for both is really important). But the big deal is in Ulaan Baatar, and it is CROWDED. All the city’s 1.5 million residents seemed to be in that stadium meant for maybe 5,000, plus all the people coming in from the countryside to see it. The three sports of men are a huge deal, apparently.
we’re men manly men we’re men in tights! yessss
We got tickets to the opening ceremony, the closing ceremony, and wrestling. A whole lot of wrestling. We would learn that you don’t actually need tickets for the sporting events, so we rocked up to watch a good amount of archery and the Mongolian version of beer pong as well.
The opening ceremony was very exciting — outside, milling about the endless rows of food and drink stalls (mostly selling khuushuur, the meat-filled empanada looking traditional food that is apparently like the official food to eat at Naadam), were TONS of people, and mostly Mongolian people, so there was this strong air of patriotism and excitement and just overall camaraderie – that is, until we went to our seats. We had seats in the so-called ‘tourist section’ because it’s in the shade (bless whoever made that happen), but it was as unorganized and chaotic as you could ever imagine. People were sitting in the wrong seats, in the aisles and on the bases of pillars and on the barriers to the entrance/exit. And I don’t just mean people. Whatever number you are imagining in your head as composing this crowd, multiply it by 10 at least. We had to literally climb over dozens of people to get into the entrance (like a regular stadium gate-by-gate open entrance, but in a stadium from medieval times)and then do the same through the aisles to get to our seats, where tourists were sitting because they don’t know how to read tickets but who even cares when Mongolian and foreign people are just sitting wherever the hell they want with no regard for safety? And there were plenty of stadium staff, volunteers, and police everywhere, so the people you hoped would get things in order – or at least form a path for when people had to exit – didn’t bat an eyelash at the scene. It was a terrifying thought, but we realized during this ceremony/scene of absolute dire chaos how, you know whenever you hear about a terrible accident in a third world country where hundreds or thousands more people die than seems correct or possible for such a building or type of accident? We realized that if anyone at all went wrong in this stadium, there was no way we or anyone could get out. It was really scary, actually. I couldn’t even leave to pee! I mean I tried eventually and stepped on or over 57 people and the only bathroom was halfway around the entire stadium (cool designing, guys) but I waited for so long. I was not eager to return afterwards because what if there was a fire!
the crowd just trying to get in
Luckily, there wasn’t! Thank you Chingis! Aside from the constant fear and the terrible bladder pain, the opening ceremony was pretty entertaining! The organizers had conscripted literally every single Mongolian child, teenager, and really adult to be a part of it. Every time we thought the performer crowd had reached its limit, another group of 100 people in a different costume would run out onto the field. There aren’t that many Mongolians. I really mean it, every single citizen was either on that field or sitting in my aisle.
I’m not really sure what story the ceremony told because the voice booming over the speaker system for two hours was of course speaking Mongolian but I’m going to try my best to relate what I saw. First, lots of men in costumes reminiscent of the dolls working for Lord Farquaad in Shrek came out on horseback for celebratory lap around the track. People lost their shit seeing horses gallop, I’m not kidding. I was sitting next to a midwestern American woman who was either on drugs or just simple because every little thing made her squee with glee. She also had the loudest clap I’ve ever heard and like it actually hurt my ears sitting next to her. That’s enough about her. So after the cavalry, 100 tweens dressed in white came out and did some weird modern dancing for a bit before they released doves, which made people lose their shit even more than the horses. I was the only person not screaming my aggressive approval, because that shit is super cruel. How long did you have those doves crammed in your pockets, you little shits? Some of the doves weren’t able to fly out of the stadium because their wings had been so damaged, so for the next two hours there were half a dozen doves just on the field. It was heartbreaking. I’m sharing all of this so the monsters among you reading this who are planning an event and want to release doves decide not to. For those of you reading who would never dream of doing such a bullshit thing and are as sad as I am now, I’m sorry and here is a picture of my doggie:
HI I’M THE CUTEST BEST DOG IN THE WHOLE WORLD YES I AM
that bird is a liar
So then lots more men in hilarious I mean very stately and regal period costumes came onto the field. We’re talking hundreds. As far as I could tell, they were telling the story of how Genghis/Chingis inspired his armies to fight against the Roman legions, and he brought about the fall of Rome. I’m not sure the dates line up for that to be historically accurate, and again I have no idea what was being said so the chances of this being what was actually on display are extremely low, but you try figuring this out.
After the Romans were sufficiently vanquished, Chingis and his manly men had to deal with the, um, wizards, and their dragons. Chingis whistled for a giant silver bird to lead his men to victory, and the giant Chingis float and the giant dragon floats moved about slowly and awkwardly but overall impressively until the Mongolians cheered their approval and another round of horse riders took a victory lap around the stadium. The only good part about the frequent horse laps is the group of men who come out behind them with brooms and poop-collecting pans.
WATER FIIIIIGHT
Then they had to vanquish the um gold alien men? So they called back upon the giant silver bird to help win that battle. Guys I really had to pee.
I LOVE GAAAAAAHHHHLD
But then it got even more exciting! Somehow they set up a huge stage in the middle of the field and DOZENS of people came out from underneath. How long were they cooped up in those holes!! Oh my god! Much worse than the guy in Ocean’s 11 and I’m sure much hotter. Dayum they just kept coming and coming more and more out from under the stage I feel bad for them but it was kind of hilarious in the pure clown-car aspect of it. BUT IT GETS BETTER. Because guess who Chingis had to fight next?
DINO-MITE
THAT’S RIGHT THE DINOSAURS! He didn’t even move from his giant float seat; Chingis was all ‘get out of my kingdom, dinosaurs! Go back to chilling in the Garden of Eden with Adam & Eve like they teach happened at the Creation Museum in Kentucky!’ And Chingis is so powerful and manly that they listened.
this one guy managing the tiny white bird is my fave
But the hell demons loved the dinosaurs and the dino banishment made them angry! Hellfireeee!
It’s okay! We will dance the demons back to hell!
But then that damn Roman army returned!
But then that damn Roman army returned!
And again, dancing will be the answer.
To celebrate, the bull and the elephant statues rocked around and then hundreds more people in various costumes danced (how did people remember all this choreography!) and balloons were released (don’t do that either!) and all these medieval-looking army people waved flags and then literally 200 tweens with rainbow umbrellas came out just to stand with their umbrellas around the track for everrrr. It was so hot and boring for them, just standing there. One little boy was not about to waste his time standing still when he was a part of Naadam. He twirled his umbrella, he danced, he did the funniest poses – peace signs, waves, even dap lol. He was my favorite part. He was everyone’s favorite; the whole section was laughing and loving him. It was so funny.
Next, I just still can’t believe. It was the presentation of all Mongolia’s animals. They literally walked oxen, camels, horses, sheep, goats, ibix (what is the plural of that…is that plural?), cows and bulls, freaking yaks, all around the track. Real ones. Those poop scoopers were busy. I thought we were being punked by this point. But it got even better! Just like at the Olympics, small groups of representatives from various organizations paraded around the track, each waving their banners and holding their signs. But instead of it being the athletes from each country, here it was just representatives of the companies sponsoring Naadam. At least I think it was sponsors. It might just have been all the Mongolian companies. Oh my god. Like all the airlines walked by with their flight attendants and pilots in their uniforms, various restaurants. Even Harley Davidson wheeled by, at which I overheard the most nauseating conversation from the old white American men sitting behind me: “You know, the Harley Davidson corporate office is now just a mile from where Julia lives!” “Oh that’s GREAT!” IS IT???
Just when you thought it was over, hundreds of young girls dressed in ice blue costumes came out and danced more.
Then everyone, all ten thousand participants, danced together and everyone was joyous and we figured that was it.
But then this guy came out.
I can’t make up a reason for this guy.
Okay, on to the Three Manly Sports! First of all, let’s forget about the horse-racing. It takes place 30km or so outside the city, so we weren’t going to see it anyway, but more importantly horse-racing is a cruel and inhumane torture method masquerading as a ‘sport’. Second of all, the three sports of men are really, apparently, four sports, because there’s a pavilion for ankle-bone shooting. What the hell is ankle-bone shooting, you ask? How can you not know? It’s when non-athletic men lounge around and flick sheep’s literal ankle-bones at targets. It is a drinking game from a USA state university gone official.
As for the two remaining and more legitimate sports. I was super excited. Not that I like wrestling, but it would be interesting to see it in a country that adores it so much. And archery! I liked doing archery at camp. And I like Robin Hood: Men in Tights. It would be just like that, right? Lol no. The rules for the Mongolian versions of these sports are unlike anything you’d have guessed. We’ll start with wrestling.
We were sitting in our seats in the tourist section of the main stadium (the second day was like a whole different place; no aisle sitting or anything! so much better!), waiting for some matches to start, before we realized…it had started. What looked like men in diapers and boas just wandering around and warming up was actually Mongolian wrestling. See, there is no time limit to their faceoffs, and no boundary limit, and they had multiple pairings going at once! So like 30 Mongolian men were on the field all walking around the entire length and width of it, biding their time before making a quick move that would knock their opponent down. They can go on forever! And it was hard to know who was actually going because there were so many at once. So awkward!
Every once in a while the crowd would roar and we’d catch the tail end of a brief but exciting bit of actual activity. It was interesting and so unlike any wrestling you’ve seen. Unless you’ve seen Mongolian wrestling. So the English language pamphlet we received says this: “Many foreigners are confused by Mongolian wrestling and may find it boring or too long. On the contrary, wrestling is actually the most interesting and entertaining Naadam sport.” OKAY I GUESS THAT’S THAT THEN.
I can’t even tell if the pics I’m posting are different
All the wrestlers are wearing speedo underwear and a frilly shrug around their shoulders. The goal is to have the biggest bare skin-to-clothing ratio, apparently. The wrestlers also wear important hats – red, with yellow stripes. The yellow stripes signify how high their ranking is. They take the hats off when they are about to actually wrestle, which helps you realize that they actually started the match and aren’t just still standing around. But they still are. Little bursts of action happen every now and then, but despite how long the matches can take and usually do take, the match (is it called a match? squirmish?) ends as soon as someone’s elbow or knee touches the ground. So it’s not like the man-on-man-on-mat type wrestling you may be imagining – it’s mostly just like pushing with hands while standing, and as soon as someone goes down at all, it’s over. And they are allowed to touch anywhere they want – except the head.
As for archery, we had even less of an idea what was going on. This was mostly due to the hour and a half of interpretive dance (soo weird) that began the archery trials on Day 1. We hurried over in hopes of seeing an arrow or two hit a target, and it was like two hours before they started actually shooting arrows and even longer before we realized that they don’t shoot at targets like we know archery to do. They shoot their arrows in high soft arcs that land in a pit of little red and brown leather jars! And they try to knock them over. It’s like bowling but with archery! It was so ridiculous!
the interpretive dance at archery
The archers have 40 shots, which seems like a lot! They have to get their high soft arc to land on the cylinders – any of them, there are no extra points for hitting the red ones in the center, which seems wrong – and push the cylinders away! They don’t get any points unless the arrow pushes cylinders at least eight centimeters away from its starting position! It is SO bowling!
archery bowling
The best part of both of these sports is that there are teams of judges dressed in traditional costume that surround each of the wrestlers, like their little entourage in their corner of the ring. But instead of smacking them and toweling off sweat, they are singing traditional phrases and songs about their performances. And in archery, the Greek chorus of judges stands by the targets and sings and does certain hand signs depending on whether and how many clay jars the arrow hit. HILARIOUS.
We heard that the champion of wrestling was given a Land Rover, another car, and an APARTMENT. No idea what the archer got.
Okay, so about that Mongolian version of beer pong, or when boys fold up paper into little paper footballs and shoot them at people during high school. Ankle-bone shooting is a team game, like bowling, so says the pamphlet, though I wanna be like, your archery is the bowling. Anyway, teams are crowded into tiny spaces and everyone is super friendly and sportsmanlike, to the point that no one is allowed to curse or get angry or say anything rude, and instead of disappointment when someone messes up, everyone – you guessed it – SINGS!!!
As you can see, Naadam was really interesting, overwhelming, and mostly fun. I’m really glad we got to see so much of it. Now I don’t need to go back to Mongolia. Despite how much fun it was to fear for our lives in a poorly constructed and managed stadium and how interesting it was to learn about new sports, my favorite part about Naadam was that one of the stalls had bubble tea. I had a strawberry tea one one day and a mango tea the next. I love bubble tea. I also had this super fun potato tornado!!
NO OMG my favorite part was this amazing Mongolian baby! He was so cute! I made Z pretend he was taking a picture of me so we could sneak a pic of the baby. Enjoy!
