On hearing the word "shamans," the sun-bathers raised their heads from their beach towels and were immediately rewarded with a sight of fully dressed Mongolian shamans dragging their life-size drums uphill. Soon a hundred-odd crowd equipped with all kinds of cameras, from Betacams to tiny palm-size mini-DVs surrounded the ritual spot in a dense ring, blending with about fifty ethnographers and journalists from our conference (the intended audience for the performance), so it was no longer possible to claim a special privilege.   The Mongolian shamanness, however, did not seem bothered at the very least by all this noise or the fact that she had not eaten and was preparing the altar with the help of her daughter and the shamans from our bus. The improvised altar consisted of a suitcase, on top of which they placed goblets with offerings, birch branches, and ceremonial blue scarves. The daughter helped her mother to put on the headdress, the most striking part of the shamanic costume. The headdress featured multi-colored strips of brocade on the back and a dense black fringe on the front with two large eyes sewn on the forehead. No one knows exactly why the shaman has to cover his or her face during ritual. Some say it is in order not to scare people when she is in trance while skeptics suggest that it is done to conceal the fact that the shaman is not really in trance. On top of the costume, the shamans wear a toli , a large brass disk: so-called shamanic "mirror," which serves to protect the shaman from evil thoughts by reflecting them back. The night before, the Mongolians gave presents of miniature tolis to all the Buryat shamans. To my surprise, I also received one.   I assumed it was because I was from America with which it was necessary to strengthen ancient cultural links. NEXT