Moving Mongolia I caught the train from Beijing in the early morn, the mid-February dust glistening in the brisk dawn blurring the station, leaving it a dreamy impression in my mind. I was on a mission of sorts, how it happened was a matter of chance circumstance beyond my comprehension. I never thought that Hip Hop music was alive and flourishing in a country that as recently as 1991 was under communist rule, with a long tradition of nomadic culture and so separated from the rest of the modern world. I was dead wrong… See, I myself am a Hip Hop nomad, travelling and performing wherever life takes me. Even if it’s 30 hours by train through the Gobi desert to Ulan Bator for the Tsagaan Tsaar Spring Festival. Nothing beats taking the train, meeting people and soaking in the surroundings as they fly by with each click and clack. If you have the time… Time was on my side and the experience was well worth it, not to mention cheaper than flying.From what I learned before embarking on my quest, UB (Ulan Bator) is the coldest capital on earth. Now, I come from Toronto, and it gets pretty darn cold here too so I figured I was well prepared for the journey ahead. But, upon arrival I realized that it was a different kind of cold, featuring a nasty, biting wind that winds its way down the semi circle of mountains and pours into the valley that is UB. Though not the best time to visit this vast expanse of a country, the timing couldn’t have been better. In the days of communism the Spring Festival (Tsagaan Tsaar) had been banned, along with numerous traditions as well as the destruction of Buddhist temples and burning of images of Mongolia’s greatest hero – Genghis Khan. How things have changed. The Spring Festival marks the end of winter, and the beginning of change. It is also a time for visiting family and relatives, sharing drink and food and celebrating the coming summer. Shortly after I disembarked I was greeted by a group of burly young Mongols clad in the latest North American street fashion. Without many words they escorted me through a bustling parking lot and into a Toyota sedan, which like all the other cars and trucks in the lot was covered in a layer of black dirt, a result of the coal burning Ger (traditional Mongol dwelling) tent settlements. The road, also black, was covered in ice and the event of what was to become normal took me to the hotel. Driving. Mongolian style. It’s amazing how music has the capacity to unite people, even when proper language fails and cultures differ. The Mongolian tongue is hard on the western palate and being in Cyrillic text is indecipherable to most English reading natives, but music and the bond it creates is what allowed us to overcome all those obstacles. It’s not like there wasn’t anyone who spoke English, Yobo, the man who invited me to come and perform at the Festival had a small but firm grasp on it. That made our interaction all the more fun and entertaining. Back to the mission… I had been invited to perform for a 2day concert organized by the local Hip Hop Association and the manager (Yobo) of the local Hip Hop group Ice Top, and to work on some musical collaborations. So when the first day of the concert came I was pretty much ready for anything. To my amazement, over 3000 kids poured into the UB Palace and literally packed it to capacity. When Ice Top and I hit the stage it was unreal. Thousands of hands in the air, voices screaming, the audience was throbbing. To go into detail would take too long so I’ll keep it short and sweet. Hip Hop is alive in Mongolia. A culture that rose from oppression and poverty in the Bronx, New York had found its way into the hearts of a nomadic culture with a 13year old democracy. It was a beautiful thing to behold. The utter enthusiasm displayed during the course of those 2 days rejuvenated my musical spirit. I was ready to collaborate, ready to learn more about Mongolia and its people. One of the most famous Mongolian traditions is that of Khoomi. Khoomi is what we know as throat singing. Khoomi singers are known to resonate different layers of tones with their throat, often imitating the sounds around them in the countryside (a desert wind for example). I am no expert on throat singing but I have my own version of it known to the western world as the art of Beatboxing (creating drums beats and sounds with the mouth). I was delighted to have the opportunity to work with the only other Beatboxer in Mongolia, Nasaa. Not only is Nasaa a Beatboxer, he is also a Khoomi singer and when we collaborated on his up coming album we combined elements of traditional Mongolian musical tradition with modern vocal tradition creating a unique and uplifting sound.Aside from the musical element of my journey to Mongolia, I was able to see the country not as a tourist but as a guest, treated with unmatchable hospitality. On February 21st, when the festival got underway, Yobo, our translator and I took a trip to the country to visit the family of one of his friend’s. This is the true Mongolia, the rural setting, Ger tents, horses and farm animals. The one we see in pictures. I was treated to Buuz, a Mongolian dumpling containing mutton. We drank vodka ceremoniously as we sat together inside the stove heated Ger, chewing on hard milk curds. We greeted the elders with our arms under theirs, smiled and drank more vodka. We snorted snuff (like powdered incense) when offered and made small talk about the weather and family. It was another world compared to hanging out with Mongolian rap stars and going to the disco almost every night. I enjoyed the peacefulness and serenity of it all. As I sadly wrapped up my final night in UB I watched as my new friends unwrapped the gift they had gotten me. A carpet embroidered with the image of Genghis Khan. They held it up against the wall and began explaining the meaning of the all details on it. As they honoured their ancestor I acknowledged their sense of pride for their roots, even though they embraced western culture with passion and zeal there was no denying who they were and where they came from. Proud, they each bowed to the image as they told to me to place the carpet on the most important wall of my home, so that I could call upon the strength and power of the most feared man of the 13th century to help me in my times of need. I was moved beyond words.