1. Almas Diaries
September 9th - Professors of Film
We take our seats behind old wooden desks in a classroom decorated with black and
white stills of movie greats, directors and writers. In a quirky Mongolian way it felt
familiar, like being in an old grammar school in England.
The wise old professor seated before us, removes his heavy duty, outdoor spectacles
which he substitutes with a pair of sophisticated, gold rimmed ones. With one eye
squinting behind the bent left lens, he begins his discourse on remote filming
technique. Speaking in a gravelly voice, with a gleam in his one open eye, and a gold
wedding ring deeply-embedded on the knuckle of a superstitiously crossed finger, he
informs us of what to expect when working with the Tsataan Reindeer herders.
After giving us his time-honoured points of view he once again changes spectacles,
placing the thick framed pair on his nose, above a well-groomed moustache. Standing
a little over five feet tall, he leaves the classroom dressed in a black shirt, plaid sports
jacket and striped tie. Great affection is shown towards him by his female students.
Aside from the aesthetic wonders of this lesson, we leave the professor with little to
help us in terms of film technique. He has instilled in us worries of having to buy a
car and lighting equipment.
We walk down the back of the dilapidated film school and down an alley between the
crude rustic fencing of semi-permanent ger camps. A husky dog rolls out his tongue
and yawns. We pass a large animal skull of some kind, then a line of heavy duty steal
doors, designed to keep out harsh weather. A poor little kid passes us, his head
bandaged up, a small hand in his mother’s. They have tough faces, but a gleam in the
eye.
2. Professors of Film
In contrast to the professional techniques and caution advised by the other professor,
our meeting with the second professor highlighted a far more down-to-earth, rough
and ready approach to film making. He suggests that we use only natural light.
As the light of day fades to dusk, we eye a map spread out on the table in front of the
tenement block where he lives. The professor wears black horn-rimmed spectacles -
the kind that have stretchy rubber to hold them behind the ears - below a head of fine
swept back hair. In a corner seat and with his arms spread out on the veranda he
exclaims enigmatically ‘you can find the shaman!’
The next day I visit a Siberian Shamanistic costume exhibition at the National
Museum. There are many pagan amulets and intimidating costumes of steel and bone
objects hanging from deer-skin cloaks. Strange head pieces adorned with animal faces
and feathers and voodoo-like dolls. Very primal and supernatural, fascinating, yet at
the same time ominous.

2. (We are later to encounter ‘Ghost’, the most revered shaman in the taiga (forest) of
Khovsgul, where we hear tales of footprints the colour of blood in snow and howling
devil birds)
September 11 - ‘State Palace, Deputy Prime Minister Finds Yeti Footprint’
Our good friend and interpreter Batmunkh, from the UB Post arranged an impromptu
interview with the Deputy Prime Minister of Mongolia. We hurriedly purchased
white shirts and explorers khaki trousers then rolled up to the State Palace with our
cameras.
We were apprehended at the door since Batmunkh was wearing a pair of casual shoes.
It seemed that our dusty brown leathers would not be suitable to entertain a meeting
with the Dep. After several minutes of apprehension we were granted access on the
premise that this was after all an interview about a YETI’S FOOTPRINT!
From here it was a crash course in journalism for me, since I had never interviewed
such a powerful figure before. With jokes and humility, but to be honest a total lack of
confidence I completed the interview. My final question to the Deputy Prime
Minister, Mongolia’s third man in charge was…”Do you think the yeti walks on all
fours?”
Until this point we had no idea that we would be making a film on yeti folklore. There
was no turning back though.