The Finnish scholar Gustav John Ramstedt had one hell of a life. As a linguist, he founded a whole new branch of study – Altaic philology – and as a prominent public intellectual, he served as Finland's ambassador to Japan between the world wars. But it is his seven linguistic fieldwork trips to exotic parts of the Russian Empire and China that his memoirs describe.
In 1898, the young graduate student and newlywed sets off with his wife and infant daughter to study the Mari people of the Middle Volga region, whose language is related to Finnish. While there, he gets an offer he can't refuse: a Finnish learned society offers to send him to faraway Mongolia to study the Mongolian language. He spends a year in turn of the century Ulan Bator (then known as Urga) when it was only a ramshackle collection of yurts and monasteries. What an unique depiction Ramstedt gives! Most accounts of Mongolia date from the Soviet era and after, but here we have a colourful portrait of a city still dominated by a corrupt Tibetan Buddhist clergy, where the only foreigners around are a handful of Russian merchants and missionaries and Chinese traders.
In subsequent years, Ramstedt made further trips to study the Mongolic languages. In 1902, he visited the Kalmyks of the southern Russian steppes, the westernmost Mongolic community, and then went to Afghanistan where he discovered descendents of the Moghols. In 1905, he visited Eastern Turkestan (now better known as the Chinese province of Xinjiang) and had a long stay at a royal court. He returned to Mongolia again in 1909 and 1912, this time seeking out ancient Turkic inscriptions on worn stones in the wilderness.
Ramstedt's story doesn't go very into detail about the scientific discoveries he made – for that, see Harry Halén's biography Biliktu Bakshi: G. J. Ramstedt's career as a scholar – but instead focuses on the rigors of travel and the possibilities of finding something new in the exotic East. Ramstedt did have some real adventures complete with gunplay and running for his life, such as getting from Eastern Turkestan back to Finland during the chaos of Russia's abortive 1905 revolution, and political intrigue in newly independent Mongolia. The only downside of the work is that it does dwell too much sometimes on the negatives of travel – bumpy roads, drunken and corrupt officials, etc. It would have been nice to get a better sense of what kept Ramstedt going in spite of all the hassles. He mentions that his wife sometimes accompanied him, but we get no idea of how she felt being taken to these faraway places.
This book, produced from reminisces that Ramstedt delivered to a stenographer in 1943, was originally written in Finnish and published as Seitsemän retkeä itään. An English translation was produced by John R. Krueger in 1978, which isn't much to look at with its flimsy binding and cold type, but reads smoothly and even reproduces some of Ramstedt's photographs from his trips.