Chasing the New Year

Mongolians gather for New Year celebrations

Article by: Michael Kohn, January 2006

Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia, may sound like an improbable place to celebrate the Gregorian New Year, but a long history of Russian influence has helped the Mongols appreciate this distinctly Western celebration.

The mayhem began around ten minutes before midnight when several thousand Mongolians gathered around a park in central Ulaanbaatar. The temperature was around 35 below but no one minded much. What else could you expect from the world's coldest capital? Piles of discarded Genghis Khan vodka bottles showed that the revellers had found a way to warm themselves.

Huge sheepskin cloaks, heavy jewellery and snow leopard skin sashes made some serious fashion statements.

Just before the clock struck midnight, an awesome display of fireworks ignited the sky. Bonfires were lit and bottle rockets flew in all sorts of directions, including horizontally. Entertainers dressed up like Genghis Khan and his merry mates mingled with the crowds.

At the stroke of midnight, train whistles blew and fireworks screamed. A group of Westerners maintained their usual traditions by drinking champagne and singing Auld Lang Syne, accompanied by the traditional New Year's Kiss.

As the rest of the Western world was settling into the New Year, Asia was just getting started. It was early February and I had ridden the trans-Mongolia railway into China.

It was the eve of the Chinese New Year (a 15-day festival) and I found myself in the northern city of Baotao, which marked the occasion by setting alight piles of coal around the city. The acrid smoke and flames were accompanied by unending firecrackers - it felt like the city was under siege.

The holiday had literally shut down the city and every hotel was boarded up. Sleeping options were either the pavement or the train. Mmm, festive. Needless to say, I bought a rail ticket.

By the time dawn broke I was in Dongshen, Ningxia Province, just in time for an all day festival and parade. The streets were filled with dancers and drummers while children dressed in red (for good luck) gorged themselves on candy.

The Chinese seem to use their New Year to celebrate culture and nationality. But in common with the West, the goal seems to be to make as much noise as possible. Two days of firecrackers had my ears ringing in the New Year.

A couple of days later I was in Bayan Khot, a small town the Gobi Desert portion of Inner Mongolia. I had arrived in time for Tsagaan Sar, or White Month, the Mongolian New Year. The Mongolians celebrate this lunar festival quietly: no fireworks, no noise makers, no parades and no insanity, thank you very much.

For Mongols, Tsagaan Sar is a time of reflection and family reunion. On the eve before the New Year, Mongolians dig into an overwhelming feast - the centre of which is a gigantic boiled sheep. It is important to eat as much as possible, signifying a prosperous year ahead.

On the eve before the New Year, Mongolians dig into an overwhelming feast - the centre of which is a gigantic boiled sheep.

On New Year's Day each Mongolian must get up and take their first steps of the year in a certain direction already instructed to them by their lama. The lama chooses the way to go consulting astrological charts or other methods of divinity.

Tsagaan Sar in Bayan Khot was centred around the Buddhist Monastery. I joined a crowd of locals at the monastery as they convened to hear monks chanting prayers for the coming year.

Later, they marched around town, visiting friends and relatives. They ate more mutton and gave each other a special New Year greeting (zolgokh) that required much clasping of arms and sniffing of cheeks. I think I zolgokhed half the town.

Three New Year's down and one to go. I arrived a few days later in Xiahe - the easternmost region of the Tibetan world. Here I found Labrang Monastery in the midst of the Tibetan New Year celebration (another 15-day extravaganza).

Tibetan pilgrims were streaming into town from the countryside wearing their best clothing. Huge sheepskin cloaks, heavy jewellery and snow leopard skin sashes made some serious fashion statements.

Over the coming days the pilgrims circumnavigated the long pilgrim route around the temples. Monks kept them entertained with song and dance routines, plus lively debates and lectures on Buddhist theology. At the height of the festival a special ceremony was held where a three story Buddhist tangka (tapestry) was unfurled on the banks of a river.

The eighth and fifteenth days of the New Year are usually reserved for pilgrimages around sacred mountains. I took mine with about 2500 Tibetans around the holy mountain Shutar, a two-day drive from Xiahe.

The pilgrims climbed the each point and shouted 'ALUTA LOOO! ALUTA LOOO!'

It was snowing when we set out on the long mountain walk. Despite some fairly tough inclines and icy conditions, the pilgrims navigated the trail in their heavy festival cloaks and jewellery.

At each mountain pass stood a stone cairn with prayer flags whipping in the icy breeze. The pilgrims climbed the each point and shouted 'ALUTA LOOO! ALUTA LOOO!' They launched fistfuls of colourful prayer papers in the air - a Buddhist version of New Years' confetti that symbolized gifts for the mountain spirits.

The hike ended at a monastery but after 15 days of hardcore temple time, no one was interested in praying. At a nearby field the pilgrims sat in circles, drank beer and danced in unison. When it was over they climbed back into their pilgrim trucks and lumbered home over the mountains.

Four New Years in six weeks - I was officially partied out - and the hangover was just beginning.