First Sunrise of 2013

First and foremost, Happy New Year!  Unimpossible Life hopes that your 2013 is full of peace, joy, and great memories!

This Unimpossible Life kicked off January 1, 2013 by climbing into a taxi at 5am—not after a long night of partying, but after a good night’s sleep—for the purpose of traveling to the countryside to greet the first sunrise in spectacular fashion.  My current city of residence, Ulaanbaatar, offers most of the conveniences of modern urban life, but the occasional return to more natural surroundings provides needed respite from the smog, traffic, and icy sidewalks.  So, along with 2 coworkers I climbed on a train in the dark, early hours of January 1 to visit the Mongolian steppe and watch the sun rise.

At the Ulaanbaatar train station in the early hours of January 1, 2013

The first surprise of the trip came shortly after boarding the train when we realized we would be riding in a private cabin—a normal seat in the train would have been just fine, but we quickly got comfortable in our cabin.  Settled into the cabin and chugging down the tracks in a southeastern direction outside of Ulaanbaatar, we were informed that breakfast would be served at 7am in the dining car. 

At the appointed time, we made our way to breakfast.  In the dining car, we were first presented with cake; then we were served bread, meat, cheese, and jam.  Next we were served a plate of eggs and a choice of tea or coffee.  Finally, we were given champagne so we could toast the New Year properly.  And because the tables sat four people, the three of us shared breakfast with a young woman from Japan who came to Mongolia to celebrate the New Year.  The big breakfast was our second surprise of the morning.

With our bellies full and bodies warm, we were ready to reach our destination—Khangai station.  As passengers poured out of the train onto the Mongolian tundra, three tall pyramids of wood were lit ablaze—offering heat and inspiring the sun to climb over the horizon.  A strong wind played a dual role of dropping the temperature but also fanning the flames of the bonfires until they were impressive raging blazes.

Bracing the cold weather and winds of the Mongolian steppe

Soon, a performance started on the snow by the largest of the bonfires.  Dancers wearing traditional costumes and large masks showed their reverence to the fire; and a drummer kneeled dangerously close to the bonfire beating his drum.  The performance was accompanied by music, singing, and storytelling, but it was all in Mongolian so I could only guess at the significance of the song and dance.

As the performance finished, the crowd of several hundred—which had largely been milling aimlessly trying to keep warm—agreed on a common purpose and became transfixed on the eastern horizon, which was quickly transitioning from deep blue to light blue in anticipation of the impending sunrise.  When the golden sun finally broke the horizon, the cheering began—as did the third surprise: people greeted the rising sun by flinging milk—frozen and liquid—and tossing candy toward the east.  One of my fellow travelers was approached by a young man with a carved wooden utensil that resembled a large spoon but with a flat square end.  The young man poured some milk on the end; after some instruction and encouragement, my colleague flung the milk toward the sun.

Flinging milk toward the rising sun

As the sun continued to reveal itself, people held their arms out as if preparing to hug the sun itself.  Many were saying a phrase in Mongolian that I could neither pronounce at the time nor remember now.  Despite language barriers, the significance of the moment and the reverence shown to the first sun of 2013 was clearly understood.

Welcoming the first sunrise of 2013

With the sun well established in the sky, my attention was drawn toward a nearby ger, which is a nomadic house that Unimpossible Life readers might call a yurt.  I stepped inside and saw a busy scene—a lama was chanting early morning prayers while traditional Mongolian snacks and milk tea were being distributed.  Soon, I found myself accepting a small paper cup—it was not filled with tea but with vodka which I drank without hesitation despite the early hour.

After enjoying the relative warmth of the ger, I returned with my traveling companions to the actual warmth of the train.  After less than an hour outside, we were frozen from head to toe but exhilarated by the early morning events of the New Year.

Unimpossibly cold toes, but enjoying the comfort and warmth of the train

When the train got underway again, we trekked to the bar car for a folklore performance.  The performance was spectacular, featuring live music, singing, dancing, and most incredibly—Mongolian throat singing.  When the Mongolian throat singing began, I honestly didn’t know what was producing the sound, even though the performer was standing 30 feet away from me.  When I realized he was producing the sound, I decided he must have something in his throat—but that didn’t make sense because he had just finished introducing his song in his normal voice.  Quickly, I understood that he simply had an amazing talent for throat singing, so I stopped trying to figure out how he was making the noise and simply enjoyed it.

After the folklore performance finished, we returned to our cabin to enjoy gazing upon the Mongolian landscape from our cabin.  There was a lot of open space, but there was also a wind farm, the occasional village, and a few small herds of cattle—with some cows wearing blankets to protect against the extreme cold.  After a relaxing ride, we arrived back in Ulaanbaatar.  And although I yearned to enjoy more of the open landscape of Mongolia, I was also pleased to return to my warm apartment and a comfortable sofa, which welcomed me for a much-needed nap.  Through my drowsiness, though, in the early afternoon I woke up briefly to call my family to count down their final seconds of 2012 and once again welcome 2013.