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It was pure happenstance that we experienced our first country Naadam, way out in left-field of the Mongolian Gobi. A day after enjoying UB’s Naadam, and just five days after arriving in Mongolia, we rushed out to Altai City, to fill two English-teaching positions, that seemingly materialized before us. Shrouded by dust and distance, Altai City registered as a stop-over for weary travelers to rest and refuel, before proceeding to, or returning from, the more ‘touristy’ portions of Mongolia in travel guides. As such, we expected nothing but eager students, from the sparse unheralded capital of the Gov-Altai Province. However, while we were settling into our teaching schedules, we noticed a buzz of expectation in the air. Locals congregated in the evenings, gestured, and spoke with urgency. Signs, buildings, and roads were efficiently repaired, and their sun-beaten facades given fresh coats of vibrant hues. Children practiced choreographed dances in the public square, to the cacophony of brass instruments. When our observations came up as classroom discussion, our students excitedly blurted about not only the approaching Naadam, but also the 70th anniversary of their hometown! We were delighted that our otherwise uneventful stint would culminate in a cultural and historic extravaganza for Altai City!
Our wonderful students kept us busily entertained in and out of school. We were the first native-speaking English teachers in Altai City, so they bombarded us with questions about the States, and our travels, while they proudly enlightened us on every aspect of country life, on their little patch of the Gobi. One blustery evening, after classes, a pack of enthusiastic teens gave us a guided tour of their town, raising eyebrows of the older denizens, toiling to transform their abodes to Naadam standards. We paraded through patched-over streets lined with old pastel shoebox buildings, causing a rare traffic jam. We were led to the First School, built by Russians seventy years ago, during Altai City’s inception, where many of our students do their regular schooling. We roamed it’s multi-leveled hull, lined with trophy cases and coated in fresh muted tones, intoxicated by the fumes, and swept up in the energy of our spirited guides. They scattered through the halls, stomped up staircases, pulled us in and out of classrooms, despite firm protests of the construction crew still putting on final touches! It seemed every unlocked building in Altai City was ripe for invasion!
Many grand structures circling the City’s center sat in stoic silence, behind their frowning caked-on facades. We flooded their concrete cavities, with shuffles of tennis shoes, gleeful giggles, and a jumble of Mon-glish, before gradually funneling into Janchiv Square, dedicated to the Gov-Altai hero of World War II. Young trumpeters bunched under the massive bronze sentinel, and tooted through their regimented routines from dented silver trumpets. We crossed the square and headed towards a hill crowned with a golden temple, shimmering on the fringe of town. Our giddy students suggested we make a rock-offering, and recite a quick prayer, at one of the small pagodas, lining the Shuteenii Undurlug Temple, before proceeding up the hill. Sunbaked, dust-caked workers scurried the grounds in a final surge to complete construction, a week before Altai City’s milestone anniversary and Naadam.
Mongols of all shapes, sizes, and stations, from other aimags rolled into Altai City in a steady dust cloud over the next week. Once vacant hotels and restaurant brimmed with jolly vodka-laced patrons, piping out folk-songs till dawn! The wait time at Altai City’s only public bathhouse, where we took our daily showers, increased considerably. Seniors strutted around in vivid silken deels, ornamented with shiny medals, and exchanged scents, from ornately carved snuff bottles, with their peers. There were several ancillary events: banquets, dedications, and medal presentations, to attend. Most of our students hosted friends and/ or relatives from all over the country through the festivities. Our teaching program winded down, so we had more free time to appreciate the anticipatory air, with our students, their families, and familiar locals.
