Today was going to be special. We were leaving the comfort of the city behind to visit a nomadic family, experience Mongolian food, and I could hardly wait to share this experience with the kids. Although I travel a lot for work, this journey feels special because I am with my family. I knew our daughters, with their boundless curiosity, would be fascinated by the new experiences awaiting them.
We packed up and set out in our Landcruiser 76, a car practically built for Mongolia. As we drove farther and farther away from Ulaanbaatar, nature slowly began to take over. The presence of people and manmade structures gradually decreased, giving way to open fields and distant mountains. The drive for the day was mostly on paved roads, making it an easy journey. The landscape around us was a blend of yellows, browns, and greens, with herds of livestock dotting the horizon and an endless sky above us. There was something liberating about being out here—no concrete, no traffic, just the vast Mongolian wilderness stretching out in all directions.
Driving in Mongolia to our first location
Traveling with my family is like this is a rare and special experience, and work was the farthest thing on my mind. The energy and excitement from my children just gulping up and gushing up the passing scenery was contagious and I felt like I was also traveling to the countryside for the first time.
It is around mid afternoon and the navigation app tells us to take a right turn onto dirt roads. As our first dirt road experience starts, we are all giddy with excitement. For children only ever used to cars going on the pavement, they almost have a look in their faces as if their daddy is doing something naughty. I must confess I also feel the same way, as offroad driving in Mongolia is one of the best parts of the Mongolian countryside experience. There are a number of dirt roads, meandering like rivers, all leading in the same direction and you have the freedom to choose whichever one you fancy. I start getting a good pace as my offroad instincts kick in, accelerating, breaking, and swerving to smoothly ride over the bumps. The site of my friend’s car kicking up dust alongside further to our right looks downright cinematic and we feel that our adventure has truly started. The kids have grins like they are on a rollercoaster ride.
Eventually, we arrived at the nomadic family’s camp with two Mongolian yurts, also known as gers, near the town of Dashinchilen. Sleeping in a yurt is a quintessential part of experiencing nomadic life in Mongolia. One was their primary residence, while the other was used as a support yurt for things like storage, cooking, and for hosting guests if the number was too many to fit inside the main ger, a few cows grazing lazily in the distance, and sheep scattered like fluffy clouds across the landscape. I think it is common for everyone that spends most of their lives living in urban sprawls to have a deep seeded yearning for nature, and being here felt like fulfilling that yearning. A young woman stepped out to greet us, her smile warm and genuine, as is Mongolian custom she invited us in to have some snacks and tea.
Nomadic life in Mongolia
Nomadic life in Mongolia is both challenging and rewarding. Mongolian nomads have adapted to the extreme climate and changing seasons, maintaining a way of life that has remained largely unchanged for thousands of years. Nomads live in harmony with nature, moving with the seasons to ensure their livestock have the best grazing grounds. This way of life has been preserved for thousands of years, making it one of the oldest continuing cultural traditions in the world. Today, nearly half of Mongolia’s population still follows this nomadic lifestyle. They rely on their animals for food, clothing, and transport, and their daily routines are deeply connected to the rhythm of the natural world. Life in the countryside requires resilience, especially during harsh winters when temperatures drop significantly, and survival depends on careful preparation. It is a lifestyle that is very much attuned to and symbiotic with nature. Despite these challenges, there is a profound sense of freedom and connection that comes with this way of life, which is why many Mongolians, even those who grew up in the city, yearn for the countryside.
Every nomadic family has their ger set up in a similar fashion, but each family is also different. I could see my kids entering the ger with quite foreboding, yet also with unbounded curiosity. The ger’s round shape, the intricate pattern and designs of the wooden frames, the layout of the furniture, as well as different customs and rules inside it can almost feel alien. For city people accustomed to living in the concrete jungle, passing through the door of the ger feels like you have just been transported into an unfamiliar and different world.
Entering a Mongolian Ger
Inside, it was warm, the stove providing both heat and a place to brew tea. The family served us salty milk tea and a plate of freshly made ‘boortsog’—fried biscuits that our daughters devoured enthusiastically. The kids were fascinated by everything. Our daughters couldn’t stop admiring the bright colors of the woven rugs, while our son tried his best, albeit a bit awkwardly, to chat with the family’s teenage son, who seemed to be around his age. In the city, even though we are together in the same house, we spend most of our time separated in our own individual rooms and spaces. But inside a ger, everyone is always together.
The host and their mother shared stories about their way of life—the constant movement, caring for their livestock, and the challenges they faced with each changing season. The family has a herd of sheep, goats, cows, and horses, each animal requiring a different pattern of care and nurture. The easiest are the cows, who roam free on their own during the day and return near sundown like clockwork. Someone always needs to keep an eye on the sheep and goats throughout the day, lest they start wandering too far, in which case the older child would be sent to turn them around. The goats are usually the troublemakers that lead the sheep towards higher and higher cliffs and ridges, taking them out of sight. The toughest are the horses, as only God knows where they are. One moment they can be next to the family’s camp, and then an hour later they can be 10 kilometers away, with their own plans to stray even further.
Children ride a horse for the first time
My older child, always full of questions, asked about the different types of livestock and, initially hesitant, ended up helping the family’s older child fetch water from a nearby stream. Watching them, I couldn’t help but smile—here they were, learning through experience, their hands getting dirty in a way that felt far more meaningful than anything they could learn in a classroom. After seeing the nomadic children ride their horses to herd the sheep, our children became adamant that they too wanted to experience horseback riding. Our hosts graciously obliged, and soon we plucked our children one by one onto their own saddled horses. The horses our younger children rode were led around by the older child of our host family, while our older child insisted on riding alone. I could see a worried expression on my partner’s face as our older child hadn’t ever ridden a horse before. It was only after a lengthy session of strongly worded warnings about not going fast on the horse that they were allowed to start riding. They took to it in no time and were soon riding around like a natural. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride seeing my children take up horse riding so fast. But I guess that’s just the way it is in Mongolia. Mongolians have a saying that Mongolian children learn to ride horses before they can walk.
Camping next to a yurt
The simplicity of the family’s life was striking. No screens, no emails, no deadlines—just the rhythm of nature and the daily tasks that kept them grounded. The children laughed as they ran alongside the sheep, and our son, who is usually glued to his phone, looked freer than I’d seen him in a long time. In the countryside, there is a certain ease you feel in just letting your children roam about, there is very little that is dangerous. My wife and I shared a knowing look as we sipped our tea, both of us moved by the experience.
The family offered us to stay inside the ger, but since this was our first night of the trip, our kids were excited to tent it up and have a camping experience. We packed into the rooftop tent like a can of sardines. The absolute silence and darkness felt extremely relaxing. Only the occasional sounds of animals could be heard, and they only added to the ambience.
As we drove away the next morning, our older child spoke up from the back seat, surprising me. “I think I’d like to stay out here longer next time,” they said. It was a quiet moment, but it spoke volumes. Sometimes, you need to take your kids out of their comfort zone to show them something different—something slower, something real.
We still had many more days ahead of us on our journey, but I already knew that this visit would be one of the moments we’d all remember for years to come.