Polo & Mongolia: A Love Story
By Isabelle de Braux
I heard something fluttering in the wind as I opened my eyes. It came from the tarp on top of my ger; I thought it must have been very windy for it to flap that much. Light poured into the room and scattered vibrantly to fill the interior with hues of orange, blue and red while the narrow slats holding the ger up were painted a rich crimson. When the breeze settled, it became absolutely silent till I heard a horse neigh and then I remembered where I was—Mongolia’s Orkhon Valley.
It felt like I was there for months but I had only just arrived. It was only two sleeps ago that we drove the six hours from Ulaanbaatar into the ancient capital of Genghis Khan’s empire. Famously untouched, Mongolia’s untarnished beauty became increasingly evident as we ventured out of the modern capital as ash-grey buildings vanished for verdant dunes and soft undulating hills. Just like that, I had left the busy, demanding, digital world behind.
“ЭР ХҮНИЙ ЖАРГАЛ ЭЗГҮЙ ХЭЭР” (“Man’s happiness lies in vacant steppes”) — Mongolian Proverb | |
My world then consisted of measuring my horse’s gallop, of restricting my boortsog (traditional Mongolian donut) intake at breakfast, and of avoiding the camp’s two ancient tombs demarcated by big, grey rocks. More notably though, my world revolved around polo.
“You don’t need to know how to play polo to come on the trip”, claimed my friend and organiser of the 25-person trip, it was good news to me because I am quite incapable with a mallet, let alone a horse. As part of Mongolia’s history dating back into the Middle Ages, the sport is more complex than I had imagined. I learnt that they used polo as a means to train the cavalry—it seemed a logical choice given the flat terrain and abundance of horses. With zero equestrian experience, I was drafted into the “noob group”, spending several afternoons off the field with a beverage in one hand and a khushuur (stuffed pastry) in the other, watching my newfound friends on horseback fight over a ball. It was exhilarating; against the backdrop of a glowing sunset, the illuminated mountain peaks and shadowed mounds made the experience both surreal and raw at the same time. The players moved with haste and grace while their horses bumped heads as they galloped, halted and turned—everything moved quickly and frenzy was the only constant. I heard the pounding of hooves on soil as the horses raced from one goal to the other, it mirrored the pounding in our chests whenever our team scored a point. I thought to myself, I want to be a polo player.
It became clear why polo was a method of training. Even standing on the side-lines I could recognise the challenge in making your horse a partner. What this game does is connect you to nature, it creates a bond between you and an animal and binds you to the mysteries of the earth. There was no better place to witness this other than the steppes, on the very land traversed by the one of the greatest riders in history. Journey with Amala to Mongolia. |
