Good Times

The Kazak Journey not to be missed

The Mongolian Derby Immerse yourself in the race

Sanctuary: A tibetan journey bask yourself in distant peace

Discover China

China Issue

Through the eyes of the travelers:

The Mark of Friendship Experience true friendship

About the Author

My name is Max. As a 24 year old travel writer, (naturally) I love to explore the world. For me, it is much more than just a job or a hobby. It’s a passion. It is a part of me that will forever be there. Wanderlust. You could say I have it, and you would be right. To me, there is no greater prize to be won than to see new cultures, meet new people, and (my favorite) eat new foods. You simply can’t put a price on that. I graduated early, as a Lit major out of Yale University early last year. I realized that I honestly didn't need the most fancy of degrees, or the best-paying of jobs to be happy with my choices in life. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve made the best ones I ever could’ve had.

Hello, my name is Rohan. Throughout my life I have loved traveling. Whether it’s to China, the Philippines, or even Brazil, if you are going on a trip you can count me in. I was born in Manilla, Philippines on July 25th, 1989. Other then traveling I enjoy: reading, writing, eating, cooking, playing tennis, and spending time with others. However, I only started to truly pursue my love of travel after graduating from Princeton University. Following my passion for travel, I became a travel writer. I haven’t looked back since.

Hello! My name is Michael, and I am the writer of the Kazak people in the magazine. I graduated from Yale University. I was born in Houston, Texas on December 20th, 1989. I have been traveling all over the globe for over 5 years now, writing about the experiences that I have. Other than traveling, I enjoy: swimming, eating exotic cuisine, reading, and spending time with my friends and family. I enjoy writing these articles because I get to explore new cultures and places.

Joe, a Brooklyn native, spends his time playing basketball. He moved to Washington D.C. to play pursue a future basketball career, at Dematha High School. This move was a major success and he was a top sought after high school prospect. Quillin, a top notch player, had many choices of where to play college basketball, and in the end decided Notre Dame was the best fit, to fulfill his basketball and writing careers. After 4 years at Notre Dame, Joe decided to become a travel writer instead of further pursuing a basketball career, due to injury.

Table of Contents

May 2015The Kazak Journeyby Michael

Kazak Minority

The Mark of FriendshipBy Rohan

Dong Minority

SanctuaryBy Max

Tibetan Minority

The Mongolian DerbieBy Joe

Mongolian Minority

• The Kazakh people are mostly located in the northern part of Xinjiang province.

• Xinjiang province is to the northwest of Beijing.

• You can get to Xinjiang by plane in about 3h 25 minutes.

KEY: Kazakh People: BlueBeijing : YellowAbsolute Location of Kazakh People: 41°N 85°E

I watch the

beautiful sun set as I trek across the green

pasture. I had

decided to take some days off

from the polluted city of Beijing, to get some fresh air and see the some of the culture of the country that I live in. After flying in to Xinjiang

province, I meander around

the grassy plains in northwestern

China, hoping to find the Kazak people, who beforehand I had

researched.

Then, in the

distance I see a cluster of small houses with people walking around, as if they were small ants doing their work. Around them there were horse riders,

perfectly in sync with

their horses. Galloping

around with pure skill and concentration, it was as if they were flying across the grass as one with the wind. They seemed to go across the large plain

of grass in a second, with that speed it was revealed to me straight away that they used horses because they were swift and easy to breed. I watch with

awe, then remember why I am here.

I race over

in my jeep to the nomadic people, the Kazak, and

introduce myself. I meet Nurasyl, the village leader. He wears a large coat made out of sheepskins, because of the enormous amount of sheep

that they herd. He also had a belt with heavy decorations and

a glimmering, well polished,

white straight sword hanging

on his right side.

He takes me

outside and I see the yurts. A yurt is a small, movable, and

comfortable house. They are made from

three main elements: a base, a dome made of poles, and a round

top. It is easy to take apart, and can be carried by horses and

camels. They are decorated beautifully, with a symbol that looks like a snowflake on the sides of them. The yurts are quite big, with about four to five people being able to sit down and eat. There are furs, like the ones on their clothes on the ground

serving as carpets. Inside it is beautifully decorated by handmade wall carpets and multi-colored embroideries.

The Kazak Journey By Michael

Why is Kazak Important

Nurasyl

invites me to eat with his whole family inside of his yurt. As we sit down I smell the aroma of lamb chops, beef, horse, and

many more types of meat. There is also a large amount of dairy products, such as butter and milk, because of the cows and goats grazing on the pasture. I also see that there is a lack of vegetables. Looking around I find that there is no pork on the table, and then I

remember that the Kazak people being

very pious people, are Muslim people.

I then quickly notice that everyone is staring at me. Nurasyl briskly motions to me, “You must cut the cheek off the sheep’s head

then put it back onto the plate. It is a sign of appreciation. Then you must cut an ear off

the sheep and

offer it to that the youngest person, or that little boy sitting

to the left of you. Then hand

the head back to me.” I nod in

thanks and

understanding. I do so, and then

we start the feast.

When I woke

up the next day, Nurasyl told me that he would

guide me around

the camp. I got out of my bed, and in surprise I saw on the top

of my clothes, was a pair of soft sheepskin

pants with an

overcoat made from camel hair. They feel so skillfully made and it was as if I was riding on

the animals themselves.

After

receiving my

new clothes, I was pondering

about something. It was part of the reason I needed

A standard Kazak yurt.

“I closely study each horse. Then, I finally made my choice. I selected a sleek black horse with

a mane as soft as a pillow.”

to come here. I went up to Nurasyl and

said, “I need to ride a horse on

your lands.”

Nurasyl

looked up, and

saw the need in

my eyes. He told

me, “Very well, you may ride a horse, but you

must find a horse first.” He led me to a small and

enclosed area about a quarter of a kilometer, where dozens of horses were grazing. “Choose any one,” he said. a

Walking

over to the grass, I closely study each

horse. Then, I finally made my choice. I selected a sleek black horse with

a mane as soft as a pillow. I could feel the Climbing onto him, boom

boom, boom

boom, I could

feel his heartbeat. As I sat up on his body, immediately I felt the wind

breezing onto my face. I galloped

towards Nurasyl, who was on his own horse. He led the way as we raced across the plain.

As we flew

through the grass, I could

feel the hot red

sun radiating its heat onto my back, the cool soft wind hitting

my face, and

touch my horse’s soft black hair. I loved every aspect of it. All of my senses were overloaded

on how much I could feel. I felt free at last from

my life in

Beijing.

Sadly the

next day, it was my time to

leave. I thanked

Nurasyl for all his help and

support. I looked back and

saw the field, and remember when I first saw

the riders around the yurts. I feel sad, but also happy at the same time. Sad that I have to leave this amazing

place, where they showed me how to live their lifestyle, but happy that I can

reflect on the beauty of where and how they live, and the new

friends I have bonded with.

Kazak

Human Environment Interaction

The environment has impacted the way Kazak’s live their lives. An example of this is how the Kazak's are nomadic people. They migrated seasonally to find pastures for their herds of: sheep, horses and goats. They needed to do this as goats and sheep were there main source of protein. Because of this Kazak's live in tent like structures known as Yurts. Yurts are round shaped structures that were very useful as they could easily transport them and the Yurts were able to protect them from the harsh plains in which they live on.

How Does the Environment Impact the Way They Live?

How Do They Impact the Environment?

Near to where the Kazak people live is a former nuclear testing site. Due to this that area has been exposed to radioactivity. Because of that there is a significant radioactive pollution that damages the environment and

the animals there. Although this is not the Kazak’s peoples doing it is still something that happens in there area and alters the environment. The only way the Kazak people alter their environment is that there large animals that they have in numbers eat a lot of grass in their area which alters the eco system especially in a time where finding pastures to feed on are scarce.

1- -C- 1 1

1 1--C- 1

1 - B1- - .1-

- - 1 -1 1 11- B B

.1-1 -C-1 1

-

1 A 1- -C-

1--C-

- 1 1 - 1 1- B 1 1 1

-C- 1 1 - - 1 1 B A

-

-The Hunan province is where the majority of the Dong villages are located.

-Hunan is: south of Beijing, north of Hong Kong and west of Shanghai.

Key: Hunan Province: Blue Beijing: Yellow

Bridge cracking,

beads of sweat dropping, it felt as if the next step I took would bring the entire bridge down

crashing into the pond below. I was an

elephant walking on

eggshells. Each step

I took on the weak, old and cracked

wooden bridge that went over a small murky fishpond

made an alarming

creaking sound. It didn’t help to have a half a ton backpack on adding to my weight. Finally, after what seemed like an

eternity I had

reached the end and

immediately rushed

off. I was so nervous about breaking the weak old bridge that I had not even

gotten the chance to take in the quiet and

peaceful village

scenery. I could hear birds singing to the quiet hum of the wind that smoothly rushed through the massive Fir’s trees leaves. I continued

forward. The bird’s song pulled me towards the ancient alluring village.

The Dong

villagers smiled at me as they continued their daily commute in this small village of only 20-30 households. Like bees, they knew

what they had to do and flew around the village with a purpose. None of them meandered in

the village. I casually followed my local Dao Yu as we strolled through the uneven narrow dirt streets of the village. On each of my sides, there were strong

and weak, old and

young finish

carpenters polishing

off cabinets, tables, parts of boats and

chairs. It was a popular job there as their village was nestled in the forestry region of southern China that had a surplus of Fir trees. Throughout my stroll in the small packed village on

flat land in front of a range of hills, I kept on seeing a collection of grass wrapped and

secured together in

random places. I kept on wondering

what they were. Before I could ask, the village suddenly opened up into a massive semicircle like area right at the river’s edge. It was the largest open area of land that I had

seen so far in the village. I realized

why. It was the

The Mark of Friendship

By RohanWhy is Dong Important

center of their hive. The river in its self was beautiful but that was not what caught my eye. The grand drum tower, tall and

monumental, sat perched at the crystal clear river’s edge and demanded

it to be noticed. I continued walking

forward not looking

at the path but looking up at the towering 16 story tower. Its beauty mesmerized me,

calling me towards it. I noticed small rows of pictures of a female like person

on each level of the building. The hushed

river and the elegant drum tower made for a peaceful beginning

here in the village especially after my journey.

It was tranquil start after a two-hour plane ride, a five-hour ride in a toaster on wheels then a uphill then

down hill climb

through the hilly area of Hunan. To top it all off, I had to trudge through a dense forest of the Hunan province that put my thigh

muscles to the test. I was not actually meant to go here. It was more of a pit stop. I was traveling

from Beijing down

south to the Philippines but our plane had to stop

here in Hunan for three days due to technical issues. So I decided to go around and explore Hunan and the Dong

people while I had

time. So far it was definitely a good

choice to come.

Jerry, my friendly guide, led me under the tower to begin

my first activity there: Carpentry. I had rarely done any sort of woodwork at

A traditional Dong Drum Tower

my own house so the very idea of doing it here did not seem so exciting or interesting. Jerry began by showing

me how to make the main body of the table that would

support all the things put on top of it. He started out with a large rectangular piece of dark brown Fir wood

with a smooth

texture. From then

on, he cut it into a circle using a saw

like tool then

polished it off using

a brush with black bristles and a wooden handle. It reminded me of shoe polisher. Jerry made the whole process look easy. But when he handed

me my own piece of wood it was quite the opposite. I was expecting it to be light so when he

handed it to me I had not prepared for it and my legs almost paid the price. With my muscles tensing, nerves popping, I struggled to lift it up. Jerry, seeing how

I was struggling, quickly rushed in

and helped me lift it. He laid it down on

the floor and

brought in a stand to put it on. He then

gave me his saw that I would use to cut it in a circle. I could

not even start to cut the table. I just added a bunch of scratches that and

marks that made it looked like an

aggressive cat had

just attacked it. Watching Jerry just sink his saw into it and cut it as if it was butter made me jealous of his carpentry skill. Jerry, seeing how mad I

was that I could not even complete a simple task, decided

to do something

else. Jerry and I sauntered out of the tower and to an altar to in an attempt to take my mind of carpentry. It was a peaceful

corner of the village that was untouched

by the hustle of the rest of the village. Just as we arrived an

old man with a prayer stick that he had just lighted, tottered away. You

could smell the incense of the burned out prayer stick. He wore a piece of cloth

wrapped around his head decorated with

black line patterns and colored green

strings at the each

end of the cloth. His

“… tables in this village are what bring everyone together. It was what made them a family.”

body was clad with a sleeveless brown

shirt that had a white line down the middle with green, white and blue patterns decorated

throughout it. To top

it all off, he wore short plain brown

shorts and slippers. The clothing was ideal especially for the hot climate that they get all year round. Due to their location the weather is also convenient for farming and

fishing which are also popular jobs besides carpentry. I smiled at the man

and he smiled back at me, showing off

his set of crooked

yellowish teeth that were missing in

some areas. But nonetheless, it was a smile that somehow

made me feel as if I was accepted here in

this village. Jerry

brought me to the altar and told me about the Dong

people’s main deity Sa Ma Qing Sui. The altar assaulted my eyes with an

avalanche of gold

decorations. The predominantly wooden village juxtaposed with the gold altar was very unusual yet eye catching. Jerry went on to tell me that she is a land

goddess and that they pray to her a lot to make her happy and receive a good

harvest.

To my shock,

the day had gone by so fast and it was already time for dinner. Fishing had

gone by in a blur and I had not really spent that much

time on carpentry. In

the center under the drum tower there was a pit with a fire

going and a fish

being roasted. I could hear the crackling sensation

of the fire and the quite laughs and

chatters of the Dong

people in the back round as I gazed up

to the top of the drum tower. The atmosphere was vibrant yet it still did

not cheer me up

after my failure earlier that today. As much as I love the gregarious Dong

people, I was still feeling ashamed of myself. Jerry caught my attention then

brought me to a table and we sat together with rest of his family. His wife and two twelve-year-old sons were at the table. As I came to sit down, both brothers immediately stopped

poking and bugging

each other as if

someone had flicked

a switch in their brain. Throughout the rest of the night Jerry was talking

about funny family stories that I only laughed half-heartedly at. I was given rice, fish and

corn, the staple food

of the Dong

minority. They eat it a lot there, as it is so convenient to get, they get the fish

from the river beside the village and the

rice from there farming land.

Throughout

dinner I could only think about how I could not make a simple table today. It was a definite blow

to my “manly” ego. Jerry knew that I wasn’t happy. So he asked me if I have any questions about their community. I thought back and

realized that I did

have a question. I asked him about

those pieces of grass lying around. “The mark” he said. He probably saw my confused face, so he explained further. He told me that they remove grass or other plants from

the ground and wrap

them together, secure them with a tie and place them

somewhere. The mark is left in a significant location

to someone. The mark can signify love, friendship,

Corn hanging in the Dong Village

danger and even

disdain.

After dinner, I thanked Jerry for the meal and did not stay for the dancing

and singing which is a traditional thing

that the Dong people enjoy doing

especially during

festivals. Instead, I quietly and tiredly walked back to the small hut. The strong wind aiding

me and pushing me forward towards my hut. The hut was built for visiting

representatives of other villages. All houses in the village are small due to the amount of space they have in in this region that has very dense forests, which

do not allow much

space.

Although, in

comparison to the other houses the hut

was so very small that it could only accommodate one person. The only thing in it was a bed

and a side table. Half of the hut was in the shallow end of the river and half it was on land. The only thing that kept the hut from getting wet was the stilts that it was on. When I came into the one room

shack I heard an

eerie creaking sound

that the stilts had

made. I was half paranoid that it was going to break, but I decided to just call it a day. I laid my head

down on the rock that was a pillow and

drifted off to sleep.

I suddenly woke

up after hearing the unnerving creaking

sound that the stilts were making. It sounded like a violin

playing the wrong

note at a very high

pitch. Thinking that the hut was about to collapse, I started

panicking and was about to jump out of the hut. But I lifted

my head only to see Jerry smiling and

gesturing me to come out. He signaled me to follow him. He wasn’t talking to me as it was midnight and everyone in the village was fast asleep. I wouldn’t have been able to see anything but the perfect circle that was the full bright white moon that shed light on the pathway. When we had finally reached

our destination, I looked up and

around and

recognized this place. I was in the in

the drum tower in

the exact same place where I had

attempted to make

the table. When I realized what he was doing a smile slowly grew on my face from ear to ear. He was going to teach

me how to make a Dong style table before I leave. He showed me the technique of how to cut the table, then

how to polish it and

do the same for the four legs. Jerry explained to me that tables in this village are what bring

everyone together. It was what made them

a family. He told me that when people are sitting at a round

table they are not doing their own

thing they are talking and laughing. Jerry led me through

all the steps. It was like riding a bike for the first time. It is deceptively simple but with proper guidance you can

master it as fast as you can snap your fingers. As he led me through the carpentry, his hands were touching mine and smoothly guiding them

through the table then he let go and

let me continue. We did this for the entire table. Working

under the moonlight, it felt as if the full bright moon shone its light upon us and

bonded us together. We were complete opposites like Ying

and Yang but we bonded together to create something

beautiful. I looked at the small table with

pride. I could not thank Jerry enough. He acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. However, he yawned

and still smiled back at me.

The intense heat

of the morning sun

beat down on my skin as trees provided little shade as I exited the village and prepared to cross the bridge. Jerry, his family and

the rest of the village waved

goodbye as I started

my dance across the creaky, old wooden

bridge. However, half way through my dance the bird’s song and the quiet hum of the wind, the rustle of the Fir’s trees leaves was calling me back. Yearning for me to come and listen to their symphony. I was struggling to say goodbye. It was as if there was a magnet in the village attracting me and

pulling me back. Even though I had

only been there for one night, it felt as if I had met family members there

because that is what they treated me as. Family. Even though, it was unintentional and hard to get here, it was worth it. I was about to continue on

but I felt a light tap

on my back and

turned around to see Jerry with the same warm and kind smile on his face. He pulled me in and

hugged me and just before I could say anything he handed

me something. It was slightly poky, malleable and there was a lot of it. He had handed me a mark, a memento of my time here. I knew

exactly where I was going to put this. I would put it beside my table at home to remind me of my friendship with him. It was a mark that would remind me of how we bonded

together over the

creation of a simple table. He once again

smiled but with a hint of sadness knowing that I had

to leave.

“You must go on

your way now”. I smiled and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I looked back one last time then

continued on with

my foxtrot over the wooden bridge.

A creaky old wooden bridge that was the main

entrance and exit of the village.

n

ENTER TO WIN A

FREE TRIP CALL 1-800-2932-1923

ENTER USING OUR WEBSITE at goodtimestravel.org/china/events/contests/dongtravelexperience

“WIND-RAIN BRIDGE” IN A DONG VILLAGE

THESE BRIDGES

ARE COMMONLY

USED FOR EVERY-

DAY PEDES-TRIAN

TRASNPOR-TATION

IN A TRADI-TIONAL

DONG VILLAGE

MODERN VS. TRADITIONALTRADITIONAL RIVER BOATS &

WATER TRAVEL - WIDELY COMMON BEFORE MODERN TRANSPORT CAME INTO USE

DONG��������� ���������

KAZAKH

DONGS primarily live in the People’s Republic of China. Has total pollution of 2,960,293 people.

KAZAKHS primarily live in the People’s Republic of China, Russia, Kazakhstan, and Mongolia. Has total population of 17,000,000.

Most people of the Dong minority are traditionally polytheistic (even in modern day) with elements of animism.

In modern day, after the USSR collapse, most people of Kazakh became unreligious, which is a consistency lasting to today.

Kazakhs are descendants of the Turkic tribes ‒ Argyns, Khazars, Qarluqs; and of the Kipchaks and Cumans, and other tribes such as the Huns.

Modern Dong People are descendants of the ancient Liao people who once occupied southern China. Legends say that other ancestors of the Dong migrated from the east.

The Dong culture is often most prominently recognized for its unique architectural patterns (one example being the “Wind-Rain Bridge”). The Dong people are also recognized for their special carpentry skills.

Important parts of Kazakh culture include their traditional music. Many Kazakhs are skilled in the performance of their cultural songs. A uniquely used instrument identified to the Kazakhs is the dombra, a plucked instrument with two strings.

.Beijing

• The Tibet region is located at 32 degrees North, 87 degrees East

• It is located southeast of Beijing, a flight to Tibet would take around 5 hours.

• This is a cold region with many mountains, which results in high altitudes.

• The Inner Mongolia region is located at at 44 degrees North, 133 degrees east

• Located north of Beijing. • very flat terrain, in some of the region, but some

mountainous areas

���

he everyday scene in the metropolis of downtown

Beijing, China is not a peaceful one. The buzz of cars, the rush

of commuters, an

endless stream of people exiting and

entering subway stations, shopping

malls, and office buildings. It was all one mammoth, endless crowd. As a travel writer, I simply taught myself to absorb all this, to filter the noise, and unearth

the meaningful bits in

between. That’s my job: to see the beauty in things, and to amplify them. In their own ways, even the crowds possess a kind

of beauty. Despite this, still, it was not until I decided to take a jaunt and go away for a bit that I found

my own peace. When I began

choosing where I would go, I thought about the things I don’t care much for in

this dense, urban

jungle. The heat, for

sure, was one. And on

top of the sweltering

35+ degree temperature, the air was often polluted. Not nice. The crowds, for another, I honestly couldn't care less for. Trying to wedge your way through a subway station during rush

hour is zero to impossible (without being trampled, that is). And the redundant everyday life wraps up

the count. I have no particular grudge against getting up, getting dressed, eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, and leaving for the office, but it all just becomes tediously monotonous after long

enough. As I pulled up

webpages on the region of Tibet, I knew

at once that I was onto something. It was a perfect choice for me. It is almost like a sanctuary. Mostly situated in

mountainous areas, the Tibetan terrain is pleasantly brisk. Attributes of their culture are strongly influenced due to this.

For example, the animals they herd and

crops they cultivate are tailored to the natural conditions. Therefore, the foods they eat are elegantly and uniquely different from what we may be accustomed to. The more I read, the more I fell in love with the place. I truly began to see its beauty before my eyes even left the computer screen. A few days later, I

arrived in Tibet just past midnight in a simple, travel efficient jet. After debarking

the small, seven-seated plane, I found

myself on a grassy plain clear for miles around. As I stood

there, basked in the dazzling shine of the scintillating moon and

the diaphanous glow

of the stars, it felt as if I were the sole human

on earth. After a few

minutes of being

wrapped up in my own

moment, I was picked

up and driven to a local village on a rickety and somewhat ancient pickup truck. I’ll have to admit that

SANCTUARY

By MaxWhy Is Tibet Important?

T

riding through the rocky mountain roads was not the most fun

thing to be doing on

the back of a car that felt suspiciously like it had no break. Plus, I tend to get quite carsick. Nevertheless, it was all worth it. When we finally

arrived at the village, it was early day. The sun was starting to rise, and my face felt like it had gone a light shade of green from

the truck ride.. But then, a pure, delicately beautiful breeze blew

by, something like the way snowflakes would

on a peaceful winter’s eve. I breathed it in

and closed my eyes, once again wrapped

up in the moment. My mind was clear of everything. And for the first time in a long

while, I was calm. More than that, content. It was one of those moments when

you simple didn’t need

a reason to want to love everything in the world. As I unloaded my

only backpack from

the back of the truck, a kind local man

named Chodak greeted me. He was clad in the classic colorful “chuba” robes of traditional Tibetan

dress. In his halting, yet strangely beautiful English, he told me he was going to be my guide. Smiling, he led

me down the streets of his village, giving

quick gestures here and there. The buildings were stacked tightly together, one upon

the other, like a queue of dominoes frozen in

time. These buildings all ran down by the sides of busy, stone-paved roads. Shops, homes, and

restaurants alike began to bustle with a hum of morning life; men and women going

to breakfast, children

playing in the streets, shops beginning to open up their doors. Mouth watering scents came flowing in as Chodak and I neared a lot of small restaurants. “Meat shop! Very nice yak.” or “Tibetan cheese, you should try!” he would say. He led me inside one of the

restaurants, a small cozy eatery. “Hungry?” he

asked me. “Here you

can eat breakfast.” I nodded in

thanks. “Yeah, I could

use a bite.” I told him. Chodak smiled

and said something in

Tibetan to a man in

the back. He looked

back at me. “Food be here soon.” A couple of

minutes later, I was served a pancake-like dish I was told is called “balep korkun”. This is easy to make and commonly eaten

in Tibet due to its barley-based recipe. Chodak told me early on that barley is the most important staple food in the region, because most areas are too high up to grow crops like rice. My “balep

korkun” was served

with a bowl of rich

spicy stew called “de - thuk”. The “de - thuk” had pieces of meat that are important to keeping up energy. All of this was accompanied by a cup

of warm, buttery, salty tea. The locals call this

“ja srub ma”, or simply “butter tea”. Chodak told me

the tea is important because it contains butter, and butter provides a lot of energy, like the stew. This is essential for high-altitude regions like Tibet. Because the minority is settled

high up in the mountains, the air and

conditions will be harsher, and energy-providing high calorie meals help provide higher sustainability for the human body. After thoroughly

getting to know my meal, I proceeded to eat all of it, slowly savoring every delicious bite. When I had

completed my breakfast, Chodak and

I thanked the shopkeepers and

politely exited. We continued walked

through the main

streets of the village together. I took pictures of the amazing sights, while he cheerily narrated

the elegant scenery. Finally, we

reached a quieter part

of the village. As I was looking around, taking

snapshots, Chodak said, “Look down in

this way!” He gestured

downwards toward

something I could not quite lay my eyes on. I followed him closer to where he was pointing.

“I cannot describe the feeling that washed over me when I saw it. A sheer and beautiful mass of dark, lush green, the whole of the Tibetan plains snugly settled in at the base of the mountains, a sight to remember forever.”And that wasn’t even

the best part. Chodak excitedly pointed to something moving

through the grass. “Look here!” he exclaimed. Whatever it

was, it seemed like nothing but a tiny, black speck. But its power and strength

was evident in the way it adroitly drove and

bolted thorough the grass like a striking

tempest. When I locked my eyes on it, I followed its movement. Then, I immediately saw the others just like it. Suddenly, it was as if they were everywhere. From a distance,

they looked like cows peacefully grazing

amongst the clear green plains. But then

I remembered. We were high up in the mountains. These were no cows. These were the only cattle that could survive the conditions of a mountainous habitat. These were none other than the formidable yaks. Chodak went on

to tell me how these yaks center many elements in the lives of Tibetans. Because of their more than

plentiful population in

the region, the people were able to fashion

them to many uses, such as food, clothing,

and recreational decorations. Fish and chips.

You ever try that? Hopefully, you have. If not, you are so missing out. Now, picture the crispiest, freshest batch of fish

and chips you have ever had. Got it? Now, replace the fish with

yak meat. Oh, I'm

sorry. Forgot to give you a heads up. That's right. Fried yak and

chips is a common, popular dish in

Tibetan culture. Sound

strange? It should. It is simply so elegantly unique. And delicious. Later, I would be offered to try some in

the same restaurant where I enjoyed my breakfast. Other uses for

these mighty creatures include fashioning

clothes (including their traditional “chubas”) out of their hides. Their hides are also used to make rugs, which are a big part of their culture. More often to hang on walls or something of the like than to keep

people warm or to make floors

comfortable, Chodak told me that blankets are widely used as decorations in Tibet. His own home (which I would visit later) had

some very beautiful works of the tapestry. After about 50

photos, and sufficient time to just soak in

the utter beauty, Chodak and I began to walk back towards the main village. When we got back, the streets were once again busy with people getting to and from their meals. It was lunchtime already! I had not realized

were gone for so long. But as always, time passes the fastest in

the most beautiful moments. Chodak motioned

for me to join him at a table in one of the restaurants. I, however, was not so hungry. I told him no thanks, and that I was going to go take a walk, just wander for a while in the village. Chodak nodded, and

told me he would wait for me there. I took my camera,

and set off on the

road. I meandered

through the village, taking pictures all the while. On that walk, I saw some extraordinary sights. In one shop, beautiful tapestry was hung on

the walls, with elegant traditional Tibetan text inscribed on them. Another shop

sold only Tibetan

scarves the shopkeeper said were called “khatas”. Chodak would later explain to me what they were. He told me that Khatas are common gifts in

Tibetan culture, and it symbolizes purity. Because of this symbolic meaning, a dirty, or “impure”, khata is impolite to own, and rude to give as a gift. In a small square,

I watched a group of monks chanting an

enticing rhythmic ritual in a language I don’t understand. Chodak, once again, would be the one to later explain to me that monks often

perform complex religious music in

collective groups as worship. After they

finished their song, I began to walk back to where Chodak was

waiting for me. By the time I got back, it was later in the afternoon. “Good, good.. I thought maybe you

get lost!” exclaimed

Chodak when he saw

me. “No, I didn’t get

lost” I assured him. “I just saw so many

beautiful things in the village.” I went on to tell him all that I encountered. Chodak explained

to me all the bits in

what I saw that I did

not understand. Afterwards, he said to me, “Come, I want to show you my home.” He led me back

out into the street, and we walked

together until we reached one of the doorways further

down the buildings. Chodak opened the door and welcomed

me to enter. It was a small, but warm and

homey place. In his living area,

there were some chairs and a shrine, with a gold Buddha statue, some lit candles, incense, and

a picture of what I assumed was his family. “Is this your

family?” I asked him. Chodak looked

over. “Ah, yes.” he replied. “They are out in the fields now, will be back tomorrow.” I looked over to

his walls, which were covered in the rugs I mentioned earlier. They were so intricately beautiful. Tibetan text covered

the front, while small, delicate designs lined

the borders. “These are so

beautiful.” I told

Chodak. “The rugs? Yes, they are quite nice.” “Did you make

them?” I asked. “No,” he replied. “They were first my grandfather’s,

The square in which the Tibetan men chanted in

musical prayer.

then my father’s, now

mine. A lot of history.” “Yeah, a lot.” I

whispered to myself in

awe. A while later, the

sky began to get dark. “Chodak,” I said.

“My plane is coming

again to pick me up

again early tomorrow

morning. I might want to get some rest.” “Yes, sure.”

Chodak said. “Sleep

anywhere comfortable.” I found a thick

rug close to a window, and laid down, thinking about the short, but amazing

day I had spent with

Chodak and this different world. As the sky became darker, so did my mind. Before I knew it, I drifted off to sleep. The next

morning, Chodak awakened me with a big pot of rich stew

for breakfast. “For before you go.” he said. “Eat this. Is very good for energy.” He and I sat together and

finished the stew. I enjoyed every last bit of the spice and the yak meat. When we both finished, I thanked Chodak for

everything he did for me in the past day. “My pleasure to

meet you,” he replied. “You are good man.” I smiled at him,

and said, “I’m going to miss here a lot. It’s only been a day, but still, this is so much

better than where I come from.” Chodak smiled

back at me with his wisdom. He led me

outside, where that ancient pickup truck was once again

waiting for me. I shook his hand and

thanked him one last

“Prayer wheels” that Tibetans use as a part of their religious culture.

time. I packed my backpack and myself onto the truck, and

the driver started that rickety old engine. As we began to

drive away, I looked

out the window, back at the village, where the beauty lives. I waved one last time at Chodak and he did the same. I couldn’t quite see his face, but I was almost sure there was a wise old smile on it, like there always was. As we drove out

of view, I put my arm

back into the truck, and thought about the past day I spend there in Tibet. As a travel writer, I am taught to filter the noise, and

unearth the meaningful bits in

between. That’s my job: to see the beauty in things, and to amplify them. With Tibet, there

was no need. Every bit was an individual beauty in its own

right. I was deeply saddened to leave, and my eyes began to get misty. I knew I had

no reason cry. There was no need for sadness that it was

over, just happiness and gratitude that it happened. Gratitude for what its beauty has taught me, gratitude for having met Chodak, and

happiness for having

gotten to know this elegant culture. The everyday

scene I am returning

to in the metropolis of downtown Beijing, China is definitely not a peaceful one.

“Tibet, however, was a whole other world.”

Colorful Tibetan flags strung above the stunning scenery.

��������

Mongolia is a landlocked region located in the eastern-central part of Asia, surrounded by mainland China (to its east, south, and west), and Russia (in the north). Much of Mongolian borders and boundaries have fluctuated over time due to its prior rule by nomadic cultures and aggressive war factions.

The Mongolian capital city is Ulaanbaatar, which is also the region’s largest city, and it houses up to 45% of Mongolia’s population. Much of the population is densely located in cities due to the southern and northern/western regions being taken up by the Gobi Desert and mountain ranges, respectively.

My daily

life in the Big Apple consists of be awoken

by tired work commuters, that always seem to be angry, based on how

much they honk at one another in their cars. After this rude awakening, I usually proceed to take a stroll around the corner, to my local Starbucks, where I get my daily dose of coffee, then my ride to work in a New York City corner stone, a taxi. My job as a travel writer is truly a blessing, but it can be a burden. My days consist of researching

locations, and then

planning trips that I could take to write my next feature article. After my workday, I

journey back home to my couch, where I plop down and watch

some good old

basketball.

I have been

blessed with a life that I wouldn’t trade for anything; however, my life does lack one thing, pure, uninfluenced by money, entertainment. There are not many places in the world

today where you can

find this; however, there is one competition that takes place in Northern

China, in the Inner Mongolian Province

that has stayed true to its roots through

centuries. This unique event is, the Mongolian Horse races.

Horse racing, a sport that I had

associated with rich

businessmen and

gamblers, is not exactly what I had

expected out of a minority in China. When I began

researching which

minority would be most worth my time to visit. I read across the line, “Horse racing has major cultural

The Mongolian

Derby

My homestay’s beautiful grass fields

significance to the Mongolian people”, and I put my glasses on and contemplated

over that sentence over and over again. After stumbling upon

this line, I couldn’t take my mind of this idea of these horses galloping across the giant, green fields. I booked my trip to one of the most breathtaking places in

China as soon as I got the chance.

Almost exactly a

month later after booking my trip, I touched down in Inner Mongolia. I was picked up in what I assumed to be a rare car in this community. I would be staying

with this man for the next day. On the car ride back we rode in

almost complete silence, as I stared out at the open green sea off grass fields. I felt as if someone had

placed me in the

former Microsoft default background.

After the long

ride, I popped right out of his car, closed

my eyes and let the soothing wind blow

over me, wiping me of all of my worries and

concerns. After a second of this peace, I stared out at the man’s property, which

happened another ocean of grass, before we strode towards the man’s home. The houses that the Mongolian people live in are called known to the Western world as yurts, however; the Mongolian people know them as gers. gers, are essentially tents with that are essentially tents, that are held up by a wooden structure. The Mongolian people choose to live in these structures, because it can sustain the climate of Northern China, and

the Mongolian people are nomadic, so

having tent like structures makes it very easy for them to move place to place. I took a second to stop

and stare at the amazingly durable houses that were also breathtakingly beautiful.

The Mongolian

people are known to be incredibly kind, polite people and my homestay did not break this stereotype. After a long

conversion filled with

laughter and drinking

of the surprisingly delicious, self produced Mongolian

milk wine that my homestay gave me, I asked the my amazingly generous,

“Son, what do you think I do with the beautiful pasture that you see?”

friendly home stay, “What do you do for a living?” Despite asking this question in

a curious manner, I knew that there were only a few legitimate possibilities, because of what the Mongolian

life-style took to live. They need their food, their shelter, or other furniture or clothing

and accessories. Therefore, the only possibilities were stockbreeder, handicraft producer, or other industrial producer.

The man warmly

responded with a smile stretching ear to ear, “Son, what do you

think I do with the beautiful pasture that you see?”

After our

conversation, the man

served me a dairy product called Airag. Because of my adventurous nature, I instructed the man not to inform me what animal this drink had

come from. The liquid, pungent yet delicious, turned out to be the milk of a horse. The profusion

of grasslands in the Inner Mongolian it region creates a dream

like scenario for raising sheep, goats, and horses. For generations, Mongolian people in

China have used these grasslands to raise sheep, to supply them

with dairy and meat, two of the most important foods in

Mongolia.

After our

distinctively Mongolian

meal with scrumptious food, it was time to go see the event had

came to see: the Mongolian horse racing. The beautiful, open fields not only served as a perfect location for raising

cattle, but also a prime center for one of the most famous forms of entertainment in the

Mongolian culture, their horse races. Many have described it as more intriguing and

interesting, than the most famous horse race in the world, the Kentucky Derby. These horse races are over twenty-five kilometers long, all the jockeys being

children; as it is a right of passage in the Mongolian culture.

Exchanging looks

of nervousness, the racers got in to starting position, preparing to start the race. The horses all seemed to be surprisingly healthy, proving how serious the race was. As the racers were getting set to start, you could feel the intensity building

up higher and higher as if we were anticipating, the NBA

Finals. The crowd

gradually got quieter, as we inched closer to race time, until there was complete silence.

A wise looking

Mongolian man, yelled

to signal the start of the race.

I could’ve been

placed in the Super Bowl stadium and I would feel the same intensity, if not more, than I felt watching

these Mongolian horse races. The hundreds of horses and their jockeys surged

forward, the horse’s hooves thundering

across the plains. Soon the soothing

green of the grass, had transformed into a sea of brown horses magnificent coats. My homestay and I drove alongside the racers in

his car and the intensity did not drop

one bit. Racers were yelling harsh sounding

words at each other, which my homestay translated to me as, “You’re garbage you’ll never win”. This was a true sign of utter competitiveness. There was no prize

money or sponsorship

deal for the winning

racer, but these young

jockeys participated

for the pure pride, of winning the horse race. After a long, passionate race, one boy and his Mongolian

Mustang claimed

victory. Beaming with

joy, the boy pumped

his fists with joy, as if he had just won the lottery. This is one of the last true competitions going on

in the world today.

Departing from

the beautiful region

was not easy on me. I miss the wind

whispering in my ears; instead I have the noise of the city outside my apartment window. I miss the yurt, the coziness and

the feeling of comfort; which I may call home, but will never really earn that title. I miss the dairy heavy meals that I ate; instead I will go back to my caffeine heavy Starbucks runs. But above all, I miss

A view of my homestay’s village

the thunder of the horses’ feet, the grass ocean being flooded

and turned into a brown sea of horses, and the true spirit of competitiveness.

"Hunan in China." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 05 May 2015.

"우즈베키스탄에서의 경험을 토대로 본 카자흐스탄의 라틴 문자 개혁 성패 전망." 좀좀이의 여행. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Citelighter Is the Fast, Fun, and Easy Way to Do Research." Will Smith. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"China Southern Airlines." Flights. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Create Easy Infographics, Reports, Presentations | Piktochart." Piktochart Infographics. Piktochart, n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"File:URSS Aviation White Bordered Red Star.svg." - Wikimedia Commons. Wkipedia, n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Blank Map of China, China Blank Map, China Outline Map, Outline Map of China, China Travel Map." Blank Map of China, China Blank Map, China Outline Map, Outline Map of China, China Travel Map. Map Of China, n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Ethnic Groups - China.org.cn." Ethnic Groups - China.org.cn. China, n.d. Web. 14

May 2015.

"Wikipedia." Wikipedia. Wikipedia, n.d. Web. 14 May 2015

"Kazakh | People." Encyclopedia Britannica. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Traditions - Folk Residences." Wind-Rain Bridges of the Dong Minority. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"VOC's Travel BLOG." A Trip to the Dong Minority Area, Part ?, China Travel Blog, China Blog. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Tibetan People and Life: Inhabitants, Language, Population." Tibetan People and

Life: Inhabitants, Language, Population. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

"Tibet Travel Resources." Tibetan People, People of Tibet, Tibet People. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2015.

Citations

Hike. Talk. Laugh.

Take the trip you deserve.