Genghis Khan and those marvellous men in their fighting fashions
's not a point I would have made to Genghis Khan, obviously - he was known to be a touch intolerant to criticism.
But bluntly put, the Mongolian wrestlers who had suddenly appeared in the stadium looked, well, a bit camp.
Perhaps it was something about those skin-tight long-sleeved jackets (called zodogs) oddly cut back to reveal their chests.
Not to mention the itsy-bitsy trunks (shuudags) and leather boots (gutals). And that funny, rather mincing, dance in which they pretended to be eagles.
Mongolia's vast Steppe is one of the wonders of Asia...
But that was just the beginning of the Naadam Festival, when Mongolia comes to a standstill to celebrate the Three Manly Sports. And by the end of the weekend my first impressions had been turned on their heads – along with many of the wrestlers.
In case you're wondering, that triumvirate of manly sports includes wrestling, archery and horse-riding. And there is a reason for the silly costume.
Long ago, a female wrestler dressed as a man walloped the opposition to win a major tournament. Deeply humiliated, wrestlers vowed it must never happen again – and devised the rather fetching cutaway cardy to prove their manliness.
With the uncomfortable bench seats of the national stadium in Mongolia’s capital Ulaan Baator, it seemed the tournament would be as much a test of endurance for the spectators as it is for the wrestlers.
Strangely, the contest can get a grip on you and before long I felt myself becoming something of an aficionado of this bizarre ritualistic sport as scrawny no-hopers were swatted aside by the muscle-bound top seeds.
Wrestlers in Ulaan Baator go through their eagle dance ritual...
During the combat, the wrestlers' seconds encourage them with the occasional manly slap on the bottom. One fall – defined as any part of a wrestler's body other than his hands or feet touching the ground – is enough to decide a bout.
The stadium is a sell-out for the two days of the festival, with the area nearby filled with stalls selling fast food, mostly in the form of Mongolian specialities including mutton pancakes or goat kebabs – each costing about 800 togrogs (less than 50p).
The rest of the nation sits at home enjoying special holiday mutton dishes (mutton is eaten in Mongolia for breakfast, lunch and dinner) as they watch the whole thing live on TV.
With an average temperature of just below freezing, Ulaan Baatar, founded in 1639 as a nomadic Buddhist monastic centre, is the world's coldest capital city. It is undeniably a ramshackle capital, but the country that the city inhabits has a former glory that rivals any in the world.
Although modern Mongolia is home to little over 2.5million people, a short journey from the city at Tsonjin Boldog is the astonishing 120ft-high stainless steel statue of the marauding Temujin - Chinggis Khan (the native name for Genghis).
My kingdom for a... giant silvery horse! The statue of Chinggis Khan, at 40 metres high it is the world's biggest equestrian statue...
Built in 2006 to mark the 800th anniversary of the dictator's creation of the Mongol empire, it epitomises the extent to which the its influence once spread.
Stretching from the Danube to the Sea of Japan and from the Arctic to the borders of India, the Mongol Empire was the largest contiguous empire in history.
The Mongolian psyche and persona, as well as its fledgling tourist industry, appears to be based almost entirely on Chinggis Khan and his exploits, from the name of the airport to his face on the currency and the most popular brand of beer.
Some question the merit of an extravagant memorial to a brutal empire builder who has become, despite his empire disintegrating 600 years ago, a nation's chief source of pride. The money, in such a cash-strapped country, would have been better spent on roads and schools, they say.
But the gleaming mounted Chinggis, the largest equestrian statue in the world, is dazzling in every way and well worth 10,000 togrogs (about £4.50) to take an internal lift to his horse's mane.
Nomadic: Gers pepper the steppe in Mongolia
From the gleaming statue of Temujin we left the paved roads and rattled along bone-jarring dirt tracks and over endless grassland in our amazing Russian UAZ off-road people carriers. Our drivers Turuu and his cousin Morchij somehow knew the way.
Occasionally we would pass small collections of 'gers' - the Mongolian name for a yurt - and when we stopped for advice on where to camp, we were invited by a nomad family to come in for tea.
Only we weren't offered tea. Following the advice of our wonderfully knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide Jessica – a tour leader for Imaginative Traveller, the specialist adventure travel firm which had put the trip together – we entered the ger to the left, and walked around it only in a clockwise direction, being careful not to step between the tent poles.
The ger was surprisingly big inside, with richly woven carpets and each ceiling strut intricately painted. A large pan of something giving off greasy steam was bubbling away over a fire. I prayed we weren't going to be offered bullock's testicles – a delicacy sometimes given to travellers, I'd heard. No expert on Mongolian livestock farming, I had no idea if this was castration season.
A lonely journey across the Mongolian Steppe. Mongolia is one of the world's least densely populated countries...
We sat down as liquid was being ladled into cups from a large churn and handed to us: fresh mare's milk. Following Jessica's instructions we put it to our lips and drank. In a land where it is difficult to grow vegetables, mare's milk is a valuable source of nutrition. It tasted like very sour yoghurt.
Next was hard cheese, also made with mare's milk. We escaped without bullock's testicles or 'airag', the highly-alcoholic fermented version of mare's milk, making an appearance.
Jessica gave the nomadic family a gift of biscuits and sweets and a little money in return for their hospitality.
Ger families are normally reluctant to accept money, but she persuaded them it was to buy something for the children.
We camped by the Tuul river deep in Khenti province, the birthplace of Chinggis. The following morning some of our diverse group – Belinda, a policewoman from Australia, Brian, a maths teacher from California and Theresa, a lawyer from Birmingham – climbed a nearby mountain, walking through high pastures thick with Alpine flowers.
From the 7,500ft peak, we gazed over mountains, valleys and rivers merging to form the endless steppes under the eternal sky – another profoundly meaningful concept in Mongolian tradition.
Traditional: A nomadic couple living on the Mongolian steppes milk their horses at the end of the day
For a people always on the move, criss-crossing vast plains, the ever-present sky is invested with spiritual significance.
As Mongolia seeks now to re-establish its identity – following its domination by Russia during the communist period, when monasteries were destroyed, monks killed and traditional culture discouraged – this philosophy is being actively regenerated.
At the top of the mountain we found an 'ovoo', a sacred pile of stones – you see them throughout the country – and did the customary three circuits of it, throwing a stone on the top each time for luck.
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