One evening after having steamed mutton dumplings (buuz) for dinner, Arghun asked me in her sweetest voice: ‘What would you like to do most in the evening in Ulaanbaatar?’
Good question, I said. The first thing that came into my mind was going to the cinema!
‘You know Tengis Cinema? Next to the Liberty Square?’ I asked them.
‘Yes! That’s the best one in town! Let’s go and see a movie!’ Arghun spoke with her entertaining, slight North American accent that she acquired from her Mongolian teacher. I could see that Urnaa and Gunge were basically dragged along there by us. ‘We just have to follow the youngsters,’ I teased them. ‘Anyway, it’s got to be good for you! You haven’t been home for a long time. You should see a local film.’
But when we got to the cinema, I realized that Tengis Cinema only shows two films at any one time. There were only two possible choices: Mama Mia, or Don’t Die, Empire of Chinggis Khan. I’m definitely no fan of ABBA. But the Chinggis Khan film is in Mongolian language. This is the biggest and best-facilitated cinema in Ulaanbaatar and we wouldn’t find more choices elsewhere. I decided to leave the decision to the hostesses.
I could see that Urnaa fancied the idea of Mama Mia – she studied the poster for twenty minutes. She’s a Christian, converted before leaving Mongolia seven years ago and apparently doesn’t mind Hollywood much. Also, she’s not that keen on historical epic films. But despite being the decision-maker in the family, she didn’t want to impose her choice on this occasion – I guess because I was here.
Gunje said typically to us: ‘I don’t mind. You decide.’ Arghun was much more outspoken: ‘I think we should go for Don’t Die, Empire of Chinggis Khan. Because it’s about our history and it will be very interesting not just for us, but for our guest!’ She smiled at me. A good student in tourism. Chinggis Khan it is then.
Arghun was pleased, and felt like celebrating the victory of her choice. She suggested that we went for a glass of fermented mare milk (airag, or koumiss) sold in a ger next door.
So we sneaked into this ger already filled with people. We were given a bowl of airag each. Gunje and Arghun downed the drink within a few seconds. ‘It’s only a few percent (of alchohol)!’ Gunje told me, urging me to drink it all. I wasn’t worried about the alcoholic volume but the poignantly sour taste. I tried it before and decided then it wasn’t my thing.
A group of Mongolian journalists were making a programme about the national drink. I thought it was amusing that the airag seemed more exotic to them than to me – they were tittering around and filming the act of drinking airag. Each of them was giving me a thumb up when I finally downed the drink in my throat.
To make the evening an utterly and doubly Chinggis night, we went to drink Chinggis beer in an over-decorated pub next door. I wasn’t sure what theme it looked, but it has huge windows, super-large tables and sofas. Loads of Mongolian youth with dyed blonde hair were chatting in there. Everyone was drinking Chinggis beer – it’s much more trendy than vodka here. (In fact, drinking vodka is seen as a middle-aged, old-fashioned thing.)
When Don’t Die, Empire of Chinggis Khan finally started, I realized I wasn’t going to really see the film – Arghun had decided that she will ensure my understanding of the entire film by simultaneous interpreting!
It was a Mongolian version of the ‘Mongol’ by the Russian director Sergei Bodrov. The story line is very similar – it recounts the life of Chinggis Khan from the birth of Temujin by the Onon River in 1162, to when he became a slave, to the days when he conquered half the world in 1206. The differences are that the Mongolian version is richer in dialogue, which gives a clearer sense of the historical context.
When the light was lit up again after two long hours, I saw Gunje and Arghun with red eyes. Many others in the audience were also drying their tears. I almost felt embarrassed that I didn’t cry.
Photo: Arghun drinking a bowl of airag.
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