If you are curious, the Groovy Yurts website is http://groovyyurts.com/ I would make this guy a fortune if I were so inclined, but ain't my forte. So we travelled up to Canada on a Friday and arrived in this rural village 30 minutes out of Montreal. It was becoming dusk. This tall rugby playing son of a Swiss lady greets us at the driveway. He plies us with brew and shows us the compound. In the yard he's just finished putting up a 19 footer. This is his demo version. We intend to sleep in it. He seems genuinely happy for that. On the grounds is an ancient looking board and concrete house, that is big thick boards squashing layers of concrete between them. Inside, he'd begun the remodeling project. It is what I imagine the rural french come lately would like with ample amount of natural patina. Bev & I both understand his love for the place though it was probably only somewhat inhabitable by harsh winter standards. Maybe the yurt might even stand up truer to that. Out at the end of the driveway stood a 25 foot high stone barn. Inside was like a treasure trove with hand carved chests, hand woven and dyed rugs and tapestries, all of an informal but supremely noble looking design. I imagined that in here is the handed down craft skill of an old and nomadic culture & you know it is not just imagination. Oh, and yes, the various ingredients for constructing a yurt was there too in droves. There were also beds, stoves and tables. This man, Yves, then showed us the yurt he had just finished putting up. Just before we had shown up he had shaved the plywood sticking out from the hay bails which were the foundation and floor insulation. He wasn't sure how the hay would stand up to years of weather, but it seemed like a suitable foundation, though the plywood was a bit squishy when you walked. We helped assemble a table for the stove to sit on and another table and tried putting together a few beds he pulled from his truck. They were untested and needed some work before being suitable for sleep. The general idea was that you could set up the inside of the yurt for easy comfort in under an hour. We then rushed off to the grocery store for food to prepare, wine and beer to tide us over until slumber. Yves treated us to a simple fish, cheese, salad and bread meal he prepared on the Mongolian cook stove which also heated the October night up inside. We also had store bought custard pie that brought my hungry wolf fangs down.
As we sat around drinking copious amounts of wine and beer, Yves told us of his initiation and encounters with Mongolians. I do believe he feels it a prerequisite to understand a little Mongolian culture to fully appreciate the bounty we were about to receive. His first foray into the steppe life of this ever ebullient and soulful culture was when he and a fellow adventure and philanthropist minded friend decided to drive from Switzerland to Mongolia with a truckload of school supplies. Yves told us that the Mongolian people could very well be 90% literate, as they do not have TV and the ills of consumer culture breaking down their doors like so many big bad wolves. By his description they also are not weighted down by and oppressive fundamental religion, they do thirst for knowledge. Now, it is true you can't generalize about a whole sector of people, but how Yves tells it, they are very clan oriented, and so make it there purpose to watch out for the whole. My little knowledge of that part of the world and how the Chinese and perhaps even Russian governments look upon nomadic people, not to mention Western society (for example, Berlusconi's draconian laws recently drawn up against the Roma population), wanting to displace them from anywhere they might want to settle, makes it hard for me to know for sure what it is like there. At this point it seems that a democracy has taken form in Mongolia, though the predominant Tibetan Buddhist religion would not bode well with a Chinese neighbor. Long distance horse racing seems to be a national craze. From what Yves told us about the families he stayed with, music and family with the love of jovial partying seem to be the past times. From our perspective the yurt is the optimal party hut. From their perspective, and I'm sure of this, it is home.
Well, anyway, we are hanging out in the yurt drinking, trying to break the language barrier, him speaking three or four languages us speaking one, of course, being American and all, when we got on to what Mongolians like to do after dark, beside the obvious adult activity of the boudoir.
Oops! There's no boudoir. A Mongolian family lives together in one studio apartment. So how do you riddle that one out little man? In Yves mind this is another reason the literacy rate is so high. More attention is giving to the child. Love making would more likely happen when there was event or reason for the children to be with relatives I suspect. The Mongolian nights are often clear, and in the winter, crisp. I imagine them taking advantage of the wood stove heat or an open fire, decked down with wool and fur, singing songs to keep the demons away. We too sang some songs that night. Well, Bev sang one of her songs and maybe I accompanied her, but Yves was coaxed into singing his Rugby songs at full volume and with much gusto. This guy is our kind-a peeps.
As we sat around drinking copious amounts of wine and beer, Yves told us of his initiation and encounters with Mongolians. I do believe he feels it a prerequisite to understand a little Mongolian culture to fully appreciate the bounty we were about to receive. His first foray into the steppe life of this ever ebullient and soulful culture was when he and a fellow adventure and philanthropist minded friend decided to drive from Switzerland to Mongolia with a truckload of school supplies. Yves told us that the Mongolian people could very well be 90% literate, as they do not have TV and the ills of consumer culture breaking down their doors like so many big bad wolves. By his description they also are not weighted down by and oppressive fundamental religion, they do thirst for knowledge. Now, it is true you can't generalize about a whole sector of people, but how Yves tells it, they are very clan oriented, and so make it there purpose to watch out for the whole. My little knowledge of that part of the world and how the Chinese and perhaps even Russian governments look upon nomadic people, not to mention Western society (for example, Berlusconi's draconian laws recently drawn up against the Roma population), wanting to displace them from anywhere they might want to settle, makes it hard for me to know for sure what it is like there. At this point it seems that a democracy has taken form in Mongolia, though the predominant Tibetan Buddhist religion would not bode well with a Chinese neighbor. Long distance horse racing seems to be a national craze. From what Yves told us about the families he stayed with, music and family with the love of jovial partying seem to be the past times. From our perspective the yurt is the optimal party hut. From their perspective, and I'm sure of this, it is home.
Well, anyway, we are hanging out in the yurt drinking, trying to break the language barrier, him speaking three or four languages us speaking one, of course, being American and all, when we got on to what Mongolians like to do after dark, beside the obvious adult activity of the boudoir.
Oops! There's no boudoir. A Mongolian family lives together in one studio apartment. So how do you riddle that one out little man? In Yves mind this is another reason the literacy rate is so high. More attention is giving to the child. Love making would more likely happen when there was event or reason for the children to be with relatives I suspect. The Mongolian nights are often clear, and in the winter, crisp. I imagine them taking advantage of the wood stove heat or an open fire, decked down with wool and fur, singing songs to keep the demons away. We too sang some songs that night. Well, Bev sang one of her songs and maybe I accompanied her, but Yves was coaxed into singing his Rugby songs at full volume and with much gusto. This guy is our kind-a peeps.
The next morning before we drove back to Western Massachusetts, passing through beautiful Lake Champlain, across Hero Island, we set up our yurt on the driveway, that is we set-up the door, walls, tono (center piece) with ceiling poles set in place. We did this in under an hour. The driveway was level and Yves is an expert at setting up yurts, but still, this was a remarkably short amount of time to see a dwelling go up. I only wish he could have been with us to set it up on our land.
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