Preserving a Way of Life:  Responsible Tourism in Western Mongolia

Better to see something once than to hear about it a thousand times.

– Asian proverb quoted by a young Kazakh traveler

“People need to know that Mongolia is much more than just Genghis Khan,” said the young Kazakh student sitting next to me during the long, 28-hour return bus trip from Ulgii to Ulaanbaatar. “My country has so much more to offer than just its Mongol history, and I want people to see that,” Ulpan Shynbolat told me with a hint of pride in her voice.  Already a speaker of Kazakh and English, Ulpan was on her way to Ulaanbaatar to participate in a Russian language competition.  When we weren’t speaking or resting, Ulpan was reading Le Père Goriot, a well-known piece of French literature, translated into Russian.

Western Mongolia’s Increasing Number of Tourists

Demonstrating eagle hunting is a highlight of each year’s Bayan-Ulgii festival, which seven other travelers and I had come to see.  The festival attracts many local people and more and more tourists, according to Bahu Etang, who mentioned that last year, only five foreign tourists attended.  On the day we were there, fifty tourists were present.  How this increasing tourism might impact the nomadic lifestyle in Western Mongolia is a subject Bahu discussed with me at length.

From Horseback to School to Head Guide

Bahu grew up in the countryside, riding a horse to primary school each day, and upon graduating from university in Ulaanbaatar, he started working as a guide for his uncle’s company, Altai Expeditions, in 2009 and is now the head guide. 

Bahu remembers when tourists came to Mongolia in the 1980s in search of adventure, more as explorers than as tourists.  Infrastructure was poor at the time, and the overland trip from Ulaanbaatar to Ulgii, a distance of 1,689 km (1,050 mi), took five days. “That was real adventure travel,” stated Bahu. Now, those who prefer luxury can take VIP tours, often organized by companies for employees as a way of team-building. Although such tours bring revenue, Bahu feels that such visits to western Mongolia do nothing more than give VIP visitors a glimpse of what life in this remote country is really like. 

Bahu, however, is pragmatic and discussed the positives of the increasing number of tourists coming to experience Kazakh culture and all it has to offer. “Tourism provides jobs – guides, drivers, cooks, and managers.  Many city and local restaurants make money from tourism, too.” Bahu added that local people on the migration routes also earn money by preparing meals for tourists and helping where needed, doing arduous work such as gathering snow into plastic-covered burlap bags for tea-making and dishwashing. His earnings from tourism are allowing Bahu, his wife, Lina, and their young daughter to embark on a vacation to Kazakhstan in May, something neither of their parents could have done.  When asked whether he would like to have his own travel company someday, Bahu answered, “No, I like being outside too much.  I couldn’t sit in front of a computer all day.” 

Other Kazakhs with whom I spoke expressed similar sentiments about the increasing number of tourists. Nobikopur Altinbek, a speaker of Kazakh and Russian and former classmate of Bahu, explained that as a driver and all-around helper with the spring migration for Altai Expeditions, he earns more in ten days than he did in thirty days at his former job at a supermarket – “and it’s a lot more enjoyable,” he added.

Five Days of Migrating Livestock

An owner of three hundred sheep, one hundred goats, fifteen yaks, and three camels, Marat Togaai, forty-three years old, married, and the father of four boys, led us in the migration of his livestock to the spring grass, an annual trip made by Kazakh nomads. This was the first time that Marat had tourists assist him with the migration, and he laughed when I asked him if we helped or hindered him. “You made a few mistakes,” he said, but he did not specify what those mistakes were.  Marat added that last year he only had two helpers and that this year our group of eight made the migration much easier. With the money earned from having us with him and giving us an experience we will always remember, he will be able to buy food for the animals and, eventually, he hopes, provide a warmer winter home for his family.  This is not trickle-down economics. This is grassroots economics that can make possible what Marat wants in his life and the life of his family. 

A Desire to Make Nomadic Culture Known

“Most people are nomadic in their hearts,” Marat said to me when I asked him what he wants to share about Mongolia with the world, “and I want more people to join our nomadic life, to share how we cook and eat, our life in summer and in winter, to know about our culture and traditions.”  The nomadic lifestyle is the only one that Marat has known, and his sense of place and pride in his culture were evident as he spoke. 

Baibolat Bugibarj and his wife Alpam have lived all their lives in the Sumdairah Khudikoik region, located about an hour from Ulgii on unpaved roads through spectacular scenery,  and are neighbors to Bahu’s parents.  Baibolat is one of the eagle hunters in the region, and one morning, he showed us his eagle and how well it is trained. Not an easy feat.

Tourism as a Way to Preserve Nomadic Culture

Both Baibolat and Alpam have very positive feelings about tourism, not only for the added income the region receives but also for helping to preserve the Kazakh way of life, especially eagle hunting. “Without the tourists,” Baibolat said, “our Kazakh culture would end.” 

Bahu concurred that tourists are helping to preserve a way of life, though ever the pragmatist,  he voiced concern that in ten or twenty years, the current generation of eagle hunters will have aged and no longer be able to train or demonstrate the skills of their eagles. “After high school, young people do not want to be nomads, and the nomadic way of life will be lost,” Bahu added.  He did, however, express optimism for some of the young ‘seasoned’ eagle hunters we saw at the Bayan-Ulgii festival.   Whether other children will follow their example and keep this tradition alive is a question Bahu is not yet able to answer.

The Push for Responsible Tourism

Self-proclaimed travel addict and fellow photographer Julien Beraha from Perpignan, France, stumbled upon Kazakh culture traveling on the Siberian Express between Moscow and Beijing, when he decided to get off the train in Mongolia. In true Kazakh form, Julien was immersed in Kazakh culture by the local people and experienced how much they wanted to share their culture with him.  He assisted Marat in the migration last year and, with the help of Altai Expeditions,  arranged our recent trip, which, in all ways, was organized as responsible tourism – respecting the local culture, its environment, and perhaps most importantly, its community.  We became part of the life of the Kazakhs, even if only for a brief time.

Mongolia and the Hopes of its Youth

Ulpan, my young travel companion from the bus, expressed some concern regarding over-tourism in Mongolia, particularly Kazakh culture, which has become more popular in recent years. “If tourists want to see Mongolia, they should be responsible for themselves and respectful towards the country,” she said. “Without responsibility, it won’t be tourism. Tourists should experience nomadic life and learn from it.”  Ulpan plans to have her own travel agency one day, focusing on responsible tourism, preserving nature, not destroying it, as she explained. Her goal is to share the country which she loves and of which she is so rightfully proud.

Ulpan and I have stayed connected.  She did win the Russian language competition, coming in first and receiving a gold medal.  Turkish and French are the next languages on her list.

Time to Say Goodbye

Indeed, my young Kazakh friend on the bus was right. Mongolia is much more than the history of the Mongol Empire and Genghis Khan.  Mongolia is eternal blue skies,  unspoiled culture and landscapes, dumplings made and shared with warmth and kindness, stark breathtaking landscapes, the warmth of sleeping in yurts, herding sheep, goats, and yaks.  And, finally, Mongolia is vodka toasts where each of us spoke to our new friends, no longer just our guides, cooks, drivers, or hosts.  We spoke to Marat and Aigerim with the help of Baku’s translating, about the warmth of our experience in a country not overtaken by tourism, but real and unspoiled. “Come back next year,” Marat said. Few eyes were dry during those vodka toasts and shared words as we said goodbye.