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From the old capital of Karakorum to the new capital of Ulaanbaatar, it’s a six-hour drive—a journey that took the Mongols nearly a thousand years.
Ulaanbaatar was originally called Urga, once the seat of Mongolia’s Living Buddha and regional princes. After Mongolia gained independence in 1924 with Soviet support, the capital was given this very Soviet-sounding name, meaning “City of the Red Hero.” In the 1950s, a city once dominated by yurts was also rebuilt on a large scale into Soviet-style blocks with Soviet assistance.
Sükhbaatar Square and the landmark buildings around it
Today, whether you’re walking the streets of Ulaanbaatar or taking a lap around Sükhbaatar Square, the city’s heavy Soviet architectural influence is impossible to miss.
In the new capital, you see a different side of Mongolia. In the words of Teacher Qi, Ulaanbaatar is chaotic, quirky, and fashionable.
A café started by young entrepreneurs on the street is about to open
Street graffiti in Ulaanbaatar
You can catch the latest movie releases in Ulaanbaatar too
To me, like any Asian country with a long history, Mongolia is pushing forward while carrying the marks left behind by multiple eras.
Although the city’s overall level of development is roughly comparable to a third-tier city back in China, the dense cluster of high-rises stretching west along Peace Avenue stands as proof of Mongolia’s brief golden age of growth.
After Mongolia’s democratic reforms in 1990, society became much more open. Economically, Mongolia is rich in mineral resources, and mineral exports naturally became the main engine of growth. During the commodity boom, Mongolia rode the wave, and GDP growth once reached 17%.
The luxury hotels and designer-brand stores near Sükhbaatar Square, the expensive cars on Peace Avenue, and the nightly revelry in the clubs gave Ulaanbaatar a bit of a “Dubai of the northern steppe” feel. From then on, the city’s nights became exceptionally lively.
But after that brief peak of prosperity passed, the downturn in the commodity market dealt Mongolia a harsh lesson. At the same time, in the confidence of the boom years, it made the arrogant decision to restrict foreign investment—largely aimed at China—which sent the economy tumbling from the mountaintop into the valley, to the point of needing international financial assistance.
The more places you visit—especially after seeing and only superficially understanding those ancient civilizations—the more you realize that history is really just humanity’s story (his-story). Different people at different times treat the story very differently, and which chapter gets written in the boldest strokes depends largely on the politics of the moment and the needs of those in power. That is true in Jerusalem, true in Samarkand, and true in Ulaanbaatar.
That contrast is especially stark in Mongolia, which over the past century-plus has passed through feudal monarchy, socialism, and capitalism. In what was once Genghis Khan Square, the tombs of the socialist revolutionary leaders Sükhbaatar and Choibalsan stood in the most prominent central spot, much like Lenin’s Mausoleum on Red Square. Now they have been quietly removed, replaced by statues of Genghis Khan and his two sons. A tyrant once condemned during the Soviet era has once again become the embodiment of the chapter of history Mongolians are proudest of.
Then there is Mongolian Buddhism. The lamas, once treated like a scourge, have once again become a force for preserving ancient Mongolian culture and tradition. At Gandan Monastery, a splendid new religious school and temple had already gone into use that month. The traditional Mongolian script, once suppressed with great effort, now has to be revived with even greater effort to avoid a break in language and culture.
The old gate and new temple at Gandan Monastery
Nearby, lamas ring the bell as part of their daily practice; in the distance stands an international-brand hotel, where tradition and modernity meet
In the end, all of it can be summed up in two words: constant upheaval. The bleakest part is that, as tiny individuals, we seem never able to escape being swept along by it. Life is like a quest card in a game—you never know what the next round of turmoil will be.
On the second morning after returning to Ulaanbaatar, after visiting Gandan Monastery, I walked north and saw another side of the city. The northern part is a bit like the favelas of Rio, with one stretch after another of makeshift houses and even felt yurts.
Chaotic shantytowns, each plot claimed like its own little kingdom
Life in a yurt in the shantytown
Mongolia’s single-track economy, centered on mineral resources, can easily lead to excessive concentration of wealth and a widening gap between rich and poor. Like many former Soviet states, Mongolia’s social reforms and privatization created many mysterious tycoons who came to control the country’s resources and economic lifelines.
As for most herders, after selling off their pastoral assets and flooding into Ulaanbaatar during the boom years, many found they could not gain a foothold in the city, yet could no longer return to their former way of life. All they could do was claim a tiny patch in the city’s north and put up simple shacks themselves.
Ulaanbaatar, home to more than half of Mongolia’s population, tells its story of inequality silently to every traveler—from Blue Sky Tower and the Shangri-La Hotel by Sükhbaatar Square to the ger districts in the north.
Apartment buildings in the foreground, vast shantytowns in the distance
I’ve heard that improved market demand has finally given Mongolia a glimmer of hope, and that the government is rethinking its earlier decisions and trying to build a better investment environment. Hopefully our northern neighbor can take off again soon, and hopefully Ulaanbaatar’s nights will never grow quiet again.
Shared bikes as a symbol of the new economy—and a way to ease traffic congestion?
But I still have one question, one that speaks to the deepest needs and desires of all Chinese people:
Ulaanbaatar—can you buy property here?
Mongolia Bonus Chapter: Meat Lovers Need Not Worry
During five days in Mongolia, I felt very deeply that this country, where sheep outnumber people, will absolutely not disappoint any meat lover. Every meal in Mongolia is some permutation of beef, lamb, chicken, rice, stir-fried shredded potatoes, and noodles.
The most common beef/lamb rice plate at fast-food spots on the streets of Ulaanbaatar
A more upscale combo version
A dish that tasted a lot like beef with green peppers—Mongolians really do like strong flavors; it was incredibly salty
Looks like fried noodles, but is actually a plate of stir-fried shredded potatoes
The most lavish meal I had in Mongolia—a chorus of beef and lamb—and it was only a little over 60 RMB
Pre-meal dessert; I never did figure out what it was
I was on the way from Moscow to St. Petersburg when I wrote this article. My family told me that an elderly woman had peacefully gone to join the husband with whom she had shared decades of devotion. I dedicate this piece to her. I miss her.