Naadam round-up

Although there is one more day left of the Naadam summer festival to come tomorrow, the main events at the Central Stadium have now drawn to a close, so I'll offer a brief overview of my experiences at this seminal Mongolian cultural date (from 11th-12th July).
Like Wimbledon for the British, Mongolians associate Naadam with rain. As on cue, as Altaa and I arrived at the Central Stadium yesterday, there were drips that became heavier with incessance neccessitating the deployment of an umbrella, but it soon eased off and one hour later blazing sunshine was beating down.
The opening ceremony was grand with people dressed in traditional Mongolian clothes, pop stars, performing artists, bikers, Tsam dancers and Miss Mongolias (nine are named each year, though one is supreme) parading around on a race track. When the performing artists did their thing, it was a grand view from the VIP section. Unfortunately, I was not in there. The action was largely obscured by the banners on sticks (incidentally bearing swastikas with a squiggle underneath, though there were no untoward events at what might be misconstrued as a rally) and the vehicle floats that had driven onto the field of play. In this respect the stadium could do with two giant indoor screens at either end of the oval ground so everyone could see what was happening.
Altaa was working with some Danish film-makers who had come to film the routine of a small boy durng Naadam. So we spent most of the rest of the day with them. Peace Avenue and other streets were quite quiet but this was explained by the gridlock of cars at the outskirts of the city trying to either get to the horse-racing event or beyond to visit their families in the countryside in this holiday break. Eventually, our jeep driver, like plenty of others decided at the next turning to drive on the wrong way along the dual carriageway to the worried consternation of the Danes. This was packed as well, but at least we were continually moving. Getting out to the countryside with its fresh, clean air was a must after this, though I had gone for the air anyway (the Danes had gone to film the boy at his ger, a case of a family getting out of the city to live in the countryside when most choose the opposite).
Once in the countryside, we were surrounded by vast open sky and around our feet wildlife of all descriptions, including massive grasshoppers, crickets and beetles, the latter regularly climbing small sprigs of vegetation to get a better vantage point. With the Danish photographer while the two female Danes were filming an interview we went walkabout, partly because even from twenty feet away the sound equipment was sensitive enough to pick up our voices. During this, we saw black beetles mating and stallions gratuitously showing off their black members. In the distance we could see the stragglers from the horse-racing amid the dust they kicked up. Finding some free time for myself, I chased a flying cricket until it was so exhausted and slowing down if I wanted to I could have reached out my hand and caught it. Eventually, it was so tired, it couldn't be bothered to fly anymore and scurried away, at which point I left it. That was also good exercise for drawing the clean air deep into my lungs.
On the second day of Naadam today, Altaa was away again with the film-makers in the countryside, so I went to the Central Stadium by myself. I stayed for an hour and a half from 11am for some wrestling. Compared to the opening ceremony the stadium was now sparsely filled and the policemen seemed to outnumber the VIPs in that section. The sun was once more bright and hot and my umbrella doubled as a parasol. There were many bouts going on all over the field so it was hard to know which to look at - basically, keep open eyes and look for movement and you might be rewarded by a wrestler tumbling another to the ground. One tense, equalising encounter was yielding nothing and maybe for entertainment the judge slapped the bottom of one of the wrestlers on two different times. It might have been for an infringement, but certainly not for holding which is integral to Mongolian wrestling. Victorious wrestlers get to raise their arms aloft and swagger around an imitation of the five banners Chinggis Khaan used on his campaigns, before jogging back to the rest area. The banners are cermoniously guarded by four soldiers in traditional military costume, with sword swept back in scabbard. I saw a changing of the guard so at least they don't have to spend all day sweltering in their outfits outside.
The wrestling was interesting but I chose not to stay all day watching it. I went to the archery range but they were already finished, so I progressed to the anklebone shooting tent. It was a bit like airborne shove ha'penny, but with anklebones. The children and tourists launched their tiles off a handheld ramp at a bottle cap on a shelf, but the competitors had real anklebones to aim at, the idea being to hit the anklebone off the shelf. They could be knocked off quite spectacularly.
I walked back into town via Children's Park which is open for half the summer. As far as I could see they haven't done anything to it since I last visited it in September. So they put up massive fences, bar entry for most of the year, but don't actually do any work. The facade but not the substance. Talking of facades, they are still finishing building the one infront of the Parliament House, a year after it was supposed to be finished. They should complete it by the end of the year though. I read somewhere that Mongolia might make a tilt at the 2036 Olympics. With the current sporting infrastructure, 2136 may be more realistic. A lot can happen in 29 years however; it's just that Mongolians are better at doing traditional Mongolian things than western things which is natural. There are always two side to globalisation and the consequences.