Return to Urumqi
The train ride from Kashgar to Urumqi was not quite as eventful as the trip to Kashgar. We were somewhat familiar with the train system by this point, so the most complicated part was merely a matter of telling the cab driver to bring us to the train station. This was accomplished by the relatively simple task of showing the cab driver a train ticket and smiling. Not difficult at all!
The three of us shared a coupe on the trip back to Urumqi, which made it easier to relax and enjoy the ride. We didn’t have to sit in the hallway to converse—instead, we could sit in the coupe and read, talk, or take a nap. Several hours into the ride, a police officer came into the coupe. It was an interesting conversation, if you could call it that. We spoke no Chinese, and he spoke no English. He kept pointing to my camera—we had been taking pictures out the window—and my initial thought was that we had taken pictures of something that we should not have. But how can that be the case when you are traveling through the desert? It turned out that he was simply trying to warn us that someone might try to take the camera. He motioned to see our passports and visas, and then left with a smile. All things considered, a much better experience than my encounter with the police in Kazakhstan (after my apartment was robbed).
The scenery we saw on the return trip was very different than on the trip to Kashgar. It had been dark when we had traveled through the southern reaches of the Taklamakan Desert earlier. This time, we were able to see amazing scenery—the bands of vivid colors in the Flaming Mountains, irrigated cotton fields in the desert, unusual rock formations, small villages in the middle of nowhere—with satellite dishes on some of the roofs.
As before, the lights on the train were turned out at 10:30pm. At least this time we were expecting this to happen! The following morning, I was able to see a remarkable sight—sunrise over the edge of the Turpan Depression (one of the few areas with relatively fertile lands in Xinjiang). Soon afterwards, we passed through China’s largest windfarm. It was the first, and only, sign of environmental consciousness that I noted in Xinjiang.
Arriving in Urumqi, we took a bus back to the same hotel where we had stayed before. It was surprisingly easy to arrange for a room—we just showed our receipts from before. After a quick shower, we left to arrange for our return to Almaty. We called Jackson (our guide from before) to find out where the bus station was. When we initially arrived in Urumqi, the bus stopped at a hotel rather than the bus station, so we did not know where the actual station was located. Jackson told us to hail a cab, and then he would tell the cab driver via cellphone where we needed to go. This being accomplished, we waited to see where we would end up. Imagine our surprise when we were brought back to the train station! We called Jackson again, and he told us that we were in the correct location. Yes, it was another instance of Jackson not listening to our questions. We hailed another cab, and called Amelia’s sister this time. She told our driver that we needed to go to the international bus station—which turned out to be a block away from our hotel.
We ran into a problem at the bus station, though. Apparently, the border was closed for several days due to holidays. The man with whom we spoke was not sure when it would be possible to take a bus back to Kazakhstan. Train tickets were also sold out (the train only runs twice a week).
We needed some time to discuss our options—so decided to go to the bazaar to do some final shopping while we thought about what to do. Train tickets were not an option, we didn’t know when the bus would run (and the bus station was closed for the night), and we weren’t sure about hiring a driver since we would have to hire someone from Urumqi to Khorgos, and then another person from Khorgos to Almaty. Eventually, we decided to figure out what to do in the morning—and go back to the restaurant we had gone to the first night in Urumqi to have more “Beijing Roast Duck”.
Much of the next day was spent trying to arrange for transportation back to Almaty. We had to go across the city several times to different transit offices. Everyone with whom we spoke had a different answer when we asked about when the border would reopen. Would it be the next day? Perhaps the day after? Or was it sometime after Christmas? We really needed to get back to Almaty, though—Sarah’s visa expired on the 28th, and it would take about a week to renew. We eventually agreed to spend a little extra money and hire a car to bring us to the border. It would be about $35 each, and the car would pick us up at our hotel in the morning.
By the time transportation arrangements were settled, it was late afternoon. We decided to spend the last few hours in the city at one of the many banyas. And this time, we were determined that it would be a legitimate one! The banya we found was remarkable. For the exorbitant (?) sum of $42, we spent five hours relaxing in hot baths, getting facials and body wraps, enjoying the sauna—after the dinner that was included—having a Thai-style massage, where the masseuse literally walks on your back. Wow! What a difference from our first “massage” in Urumqi!
The following morning, our driver picked us up at our hotel for the drive to Khorgos. The drive was relatively uneventful—it was dark when we left, and I slept for much of the ride. Most of the drive was on a fairly decent highway. When we approached the Kazakh border, though, the situation changed. The ‘highway’ was essentially a two lane semi-paved road that went through a mountain pass. Along the way, we passed Lake Sayran in the Tien Shan Mountains—our driver stopped to allow us to take pictures. While we did so, several groups of herders came through the area, with a flock of sheep and a large group of horses. It was amazing sight, particularly on a ‘highway’.
When we arrived in Khorgos, our driver helped us to find a relatively inexpensive hotel. We had a few hours, so we explored what we could of the city. We stopped off at a Uyghur restaurant for an early dinner (where we had the ubiquitous langhman), then found our way to Starbucks. Yes, there IS a Starbucks in Khorghos. It just isn’t a real Starbucks—the only similarity is the ridiculously high price for a cup of coffee. We had “cappuccino”—which was essentially instant coffee with a whipped topping that has a slight resemblance to Redi-Whip.
We knew that there would be a line at the border the next day, so we decided to leave as early as possible. The border had been closed Monday and Tuesday due to Independence Day in Kazakhstan—and it would be closed again on Thursday and Friday for one of the Muslim holidays. When we left the hotel, there were several vehicles out in front—each driver offered to bring us to the border for what seemed rather high prices. We declined, and went to the main road to hail a cab. Unfortunately, the only cabs that stopped were too small to handle our luggage. We would up taking a rickshaw to the border—for the ridiculously high price of $4.50! It was by far the most expensive ride we had taken in China—most cab rides cost no more than $1.50, and lasted longer than ¾ mile. But how often do you get to take a rickshaw?
The border itself was packed—hundreds of people crowded around the gates to the customs building. Several men were taking money to expedite the process—but we didn’t think paying someone in full sight of embassy guards in China would be particularly smart. When the border eventually opened, it was a mad dash to the gateway. People were pressing in on all sides, and the men who had been taking money were lifting people (and all of their vast amounts of luggage) over the gates. One man apparently thought that Sarah had paid for this service—so we had the visual of seeing her lifted and thrown over the gate. Amelia and I were right next to the entryway, so were able to squeeze through without too much problem.
We had no problems clearing Chinese customs—but then had to wait for the shuttles between the Chinese and Kazakh sides of the border. It would have been no problem, but it took about 30 minutes for the shuttles to arrive from the Kazakh side. By that time, the number of people waiting for the shuttles had swelled from a few dozen to a few hundred. But…the experience of driving in Boston combined with several months of living in Almaty definitely helped. As we say over here—“elbows out, side to side”. I was successfully able to block the door to the second shuttle, so that the three of us could board. The meek might inherit the earth in most places—but in Kazakhstan they would be trampled underfoot. It is going to be hard to move back to Kansas—where everyone is so polite—after a year and a half in Kazakhstan!
After clearing customs on the Kazakh side of the border, we next had to arrange for a cab to take us back to Almaty. Prices were higher than usual, due to the border closure. We negotiated with a driver to take us back to Almaty—only to find out that he was not our actual driver. He took us to another location, where we met our actual driver. After loading our luggage into the car and beginning what should be about a six hour drive, our driver told us that he was going to stop to pick up one other person. That wasn’t in the agreement! It was only after Sarah told him that we would just get out of the car and hire someone else that he agreed not to stop for anyone else.
Initially, the drive was uneventful. We had hired a typical driver from Kazakhstan—which meant that he drove fairly fast and did not pay attention to the rules of the road. Not always comfortable, but not unexpected. His Russian was absolutely atrocious—but he was convinced that we could not speak the language and just didn’t understand his eloquence. After about 2 hours of driving, our driver went a little (a lot?) too fast over a bump in the road—and broke the exhaust pipe. But…he was prepared to fix the problem. Pulling off to the side of the road, he jacked the car up to check out the problem. Of course, the road was covered in ice and he failed to block the tires. Our job—to direct traffic around the car. We were no where ANY sort of assistance—you can see this ‘road to nowhere’ in one of the earlier postings. Sarah offered the driver some duct tape—and he wrapped this around the exhaust pipe. The tape held for about 10km, then melted. It was time to watch the car be jacked up once again. This time, several other cars stopped and we were treated to the fascinating site of a group of Kazakh men standing around discussing the problem. Eventually, they ran the tow rope under the bottom of the car to prevent the pipe from dragging (it had broken near the front axle).
The next few hours were spent trying to find a place to have the car repaired. Apparently, the problem had happened four or five months previously—and the driver never had it properly taken care of (you can see the ‘garage’ in one of the earlier postings, too). In between trying to find a garage, our driver was determined to make an impression Sarah. Amelia and I were all but ignored, as he attempted to convince Sarah to convert to Islam (seriously!) and give him her phone number. There are times when I am incredibly thankful that men here really don’t bother me—because I am clearly too old to have nine or ten children (although I’m still told not to sit in a draft, since it will freeze your ovaries)!
Eventually, the car was repaired and it was time to head back to Almaty. Except I wasn’t sure if we would make it—since our driver was hurtling down the road at about 100 mph. Every time he passed a car, he would wave at the other driver. Periodically, he would pray—and would pass his hands over his face in a traditional prayer. The problem was that he was still driving when he did this. There is NOTHING like driving 100 mph down what would be considered a secondary road back home, with no one steering and the driver covering his eyes. Did I mention that seat belts don’t exist over here?
It was pretty clear that our driver really didn’t have any actual driving skills. At least we didn’t realize how lacking his skills were until we arrived in Almaty. It was about 10 degrees F outside, but he kept opening the car windows. When we asked why he kept doing so, since it was pretty darned cold, we found out that the reason was to “hear where the other cars were”. Mirrors apparently weren’t adequate for the job—or he just didn’t know how to use them. I suspect that it was the latter.
I was the first to be dropped off, and gladly stumbled up to my apartment to take a shower and a nap. Apparently, though, the adventure was not over for Sarah and Amelia. The driver stopped to use the restroom en route to their building—but left the car running with the keys in the ignition. From what I understand, there was serious temptation to drive off and leave the driver behind. I can’t say that I would have blamed them!
All in all, it was an eventful trip! We traveled by just about every method of transportation available—bus, train, taxi, camel, and rickshaw (too bad we didn’t get to ride a donkey cart, though!). We ate strange and exotic foods, experienced an entirely different culture, saw amazing scenery, and had a wonderful time. It was an adventure in discovering exactly what we could do, and how adaptable we could be to unusual circumstances. What is next? Well, if all goes well—hiking to Kyrgyzstan, and then going to Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. Who knows what will happen on those trips? But…it just won’t be the same as Xinjiang, since we all speak Russian and won’t have the same communication barrier in other parts of Central Asia.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
China-Camel Riding and the World's Freshest Chicken
It is a frigid night here in Almaty, with temperatures well below zero. Definitely a good night to stay inside and drink tea—and perhaps catch up on some of the writing I have been intending to do.
The trip to go camel riding started well before dawn, at 10am Beijing time. It is rather strange to think that 10am is before sunrise, but it was only 8am local time—and during winter in these latitudes, sunrise is rather late. Before we left, we had breakfast in the hotel. I am usually willing to try different things, but the Chinese-style breakfasts are a bit beyond me. Pickled vegetables first thing in the morning can be a little hard to stomach—even for someone who likes rather non-traditional breakfasts.
Our guide met us in the hotel lobby—it would be an interesting trip, since she spoke no English and we only had a few phrases in Chinese. We had agreed (through Amelia’s sister, who interpreted via cellphone) to pay a grand total of 600 quai ($80) to drive us to our destination and bring us back. The camel ride would be an additional 100 quai ($13) each. So, for around $40 each, we would have a day of camel riding and exploring the Taklamakan Desert.
It was a drive of about 150km from Kashgar to the camel reserve. In Kazakhstan, the drive would last no longer than 70 minutes. After the kamikaze drivers in Almaty, it was something of a surprise to have a driver who obeyed speed limits. Within towns/villages, the speed limit was 40km per hour and outside of towns/villages speeds increased to 80km per hour. I actually found myself wishing that our guide would speed up! The drive was fascinating, though. We had left early enough to be able to see children on their way to local schools. In each village that we drove through, we first encountered what appeared to be the wealthier children riding bicycles. They were usually several hundred meters ahead of the remaining students—who had to walk to the village school.
The region we drove through was clearly dominated by Uyghur families—we saw small mosques, signs written in Arabic script (Uyghur is written in the Arabic alphabet), and even a Muslim cemetery. Our guide stopped to allow us to take pictures of this cemetery, which was fascinating (there is a picture in a previous blog). It was just after sunrise and the morning fog had yet to burn off, which made it seem rather unreal. I am not familiar with Uyghur burial customs, but the cemetery appeared to consist of numerous above-ground crypts.
Traffic on the highway was fairly heavy. However, cars were not the only means of transportation—or even the most popular means of transportation. That honor would have to belong to the donkey cart. At one point, our guide stopped to ask one man driving a donkey cart (with his wife sitting in the back of the cart) if we could take his picture. He appeared to be amused, and agreed. I am sure that he had no idea why we thought the image was so fascinating, since donkey carts were part of his everyday landscape.
Before arriving at the camel reserve, we had one more stop to make. Our guide showed us a willow tree that was over 1000 years old. As you might expect, it is absolutely massive. Many of branches have fallen due to their weight, and lay in a twisted mass on the ground. To reach the tree, we had to walk along a narrow path that falls between an irrigation canal and a school. We attracted the attention of the students, who gathered by the school windows and repeatedly called to us—in English. It was rather charming.
Eventually, we reached the camel reserve. By this time, it was nearly 1pm. We were to ride camels for two hours, and then have lunch before returning to Kashgar. The camel ride itself was incredible. Since I’m sure that people are going to ask what type of camels we rode, I should note that they were Bactrian camels, not Dromedaries. Bactrian camels have 2 humps, and are much better adapted to extreme cold and heat than Dromedaries. I should also note that the aroma of camels leaves something to be desired. Although I would imagine that they smell even worse during the hot summer months.
Camels are rather ungainly animals. They don’t appear to be particularly coordinated, and riding a camel can be rather like being on a boat in rough water (they are called the ‘ships of the desert’, after all!). We rode in a convoy, with a guide walking alongside us. It was an incredible way to see the desert—the swirls of sand, the sharp peaks of some of the dunes, a man herding his sheep in the scrubland at the edge of the desert. The Taklamakan is the 2nd largest shifting sand desert in the world—although Xinjiang is the largest province in China (1/6 of the country’s total territory) and has a relatively small population, population densities are as high as those in Eastern China because so much of the region is encompassed by the desert. Traders along the Silk Road would have had to skirt the southern borders of the desert to reach Kashgar. This was the same portion of the desert where we were able to ride camels. Before leaving for Kazakhstan, I commented that one of the things that I wanted to do before returning home was to ride a camel in the desert. To have done so along the ancient Silk Road was truly a phenomenal experience. There will be some great stories to tell the next time I teach about Central Asia!
I don’t know what our guide thought of us, though. Especially when we decided to start singing. It was a little hard to decide on what song to sing—since we couldn’t seem to find a song that all three of us knew the words to. Eventually we found a song we could agree on—I leave it to you to imagine three women riding camels, singing “Goodbye Earl”.
By the time our camel ride was over, the three of us were hungry and, once we were away from the warmth of the camels, freezing cold. Since we had made arrangements for lunch to be served, we thought that it would be ready upon our return. That did not turn out to be the case. Using a combination of hand signals and pictures, our guide asked us what we wanted for lunch. Eventually, we settled on the appropriate menu and then we were shown into a small room heated by a coal brazier. Initially there was a problem with the chimney and the room was filled with smoke. So…we were outside for the next stage of the lunch preparations. When we had been deciding what we wanted for lunch, our guide had indicated a cage filled with chickens. Initially, we thought that she was pointing to the chickens so we knew what sort of meat was available. As it turned out, that was NOT the case. We were being asked if we wanted one of the chickens in the cage. Before we quite realized what was happening, one of the men working at the reserve was inside the cage and having a debate with our guide about which chicken to serve us for lunch. In the past, I have been able to pick which lobster or fish I’d like for dinner—but never which chicken.
When lunch was finally served (at around 4 pm, by which time we were all glad to have eaten breakfast at the hotel), we were a little uncertain as to what we were eating. There was clearly chicken in the dish, but there was also another meat. Given the freshness of the chicken, and the fact that the only other animal we had seen was a dog, we weren’t quite sure what we were eating. But the dog was still sitting outside, and we eventually figured out that it was goat. Thank goodness! It would have been difficult if it had been dog, especially since it was pretty tasty.
Eventually, it was time to head back to Kashgar. It had been an exhausting day, and I was more than ready for a shower and to take a nap. But the day was not over yet. Our guide had one more stop for us on the way back. We were able to visit with a Uyghur family in their farmhouse. It was like walking into a living museum. The house only had two rooms—a living area and a kitchen. Carpet-covered pallets lined one side of the living area, and a dombra (traditional stringed instrument) hung on the wall. It was clearly the gathering place in the house, and also served as a bedroom at night. The only other room was the kitchen, which was significantly warmer. There was a cradle on the floor in the room, but it bore little resemblance to cradles in the US. This cradle had no sides and would be considered an antique by western standards. The farmer’s wife went over to the cradle and pulled back several layers of blankets. After she did so, we realized that her infant son was sleeping in the cradle. She untied a band of cloth that prevented him from falling out of the cradle, and proudly showed him off to us. His father came into the kitchen and played with the baby while we were there. It was clear that they were a happy family. It is a difficult life, though—with no running water, no electricity, none of the amenities that we are accustomed to in the west.
By this time, we thought that the adventures were over. But then we started hearing noises from the back of the car. Eventually, the noise became loud enough for our guide to pull over and open up the trunk—so she could quiet the three live chickens she had bought back at the camel reserve. Apparently, city prices for live chickens were rather high and these chickens were less expensive. The truly strange thing about the situation, though, was that it did not seem to be strange at all. It was just another day in Central Asia.
The trip to go camel riding started well before dawn, at 10am Beijing time. It is rather strange to think that 10am is before sunrise, but it was only 8am local time—and during winter in these latitudes, sunrise is rather late. Before we left, we had breakfast in the hotel. I am usually willing to try different things, but the Chinese-style breakfasts are a bit beyond me. Pickled vegetables first thing in the morning can be a little hard to stomach—even for someone who likes rather non-traditional breakfasts.
Our guide met us in the hotel lobby—it would be an interesting trip, since she spoke no English and we only had a few phrases in Chinese. We had agreed (through Amelia’s sister, who interpreted via cellphone) to pay a grand total of 600 quai ($80) to drive us to our destination and bring us back. The camel ride would be an additional 100 quai ($13) each. So, for around $40 each, we would have a day of camel riding and exploring the Taklamakan Desert.
It was a drive of about 150km from Kashgar to the camel reserve. In Kazakhstan, the drive would last no longer than 70 minutes. After the kamikaze drivers in Almaty, it was something of a surprise to have a driver who obeyed speed limits. Within towns/villages, the speed limit was 40km per hour and outside of towns/villages speeds increased to 80km per hour. I actually found myself wishing that our guide would speed up! The drive was fascinating, though. We had left early enough to be able to see children on their way to local schools. In each village that we drove through, we first encountered what appeared to be the wealthier children riding bicycles. They were usually several hundred meters ahead of the remaining students—who had to walk to the village school.
The region we drove through was clearly dominated by Uyghur families—we saw small mosques, signs written in Arabic script (Uyghur is written in the Arabic alphabet), and even a Muslim cemetery. Our guide stopped to allow us to take pictures of this cemetery, which was fascinating (there is a picture in a previous blog). It was just after sunrise and the morning fog had yet to burn off, which made it seem rather unreal. I am not familiar with Uyghur burial customs, but the cemetery appeared to consist of numerous above-ground crypts.
Traffic on the highway was fairly heavy. However, cars were not the only means of transportation—or even the most popular means of transportation. That honor would have to belong to the donkey cart. At one point, our guide stopped to ask one man driving a donkey cart (with his wife sitting in the back of the cart) if we could take his picture. He appeared to be amused, and agreed. I am sure that he had no idea why we thought the image was so fascinating, since donkey carts were part of his everyday landscape.
Before arriving at the camel reserve, we had one more stop to make. Our guide showed us a willow tree that was over 1000 years old. As you might expect, it is absolutely massive. Many of branches have fallen due to their weight, and lay in a twisted mass on the ground. To reach the tree, we had to walk along a narrow path that falls between an irrigation canal and a school. We attracted the attention of the students, who gathered by the school windows and repeatedly called to us—in English. It was rather charming.
Eventually, we reached the camel reserve. By this time, it was nearly 1pm. We were to ride camels for two hours, and then have lunch before returning to Kashgar. The camel ride itself was incredible. Since I’m sure that people are going to ask what type of camels we rode, I should note that they were Bactrian camels, not Dromedaries. Bactrian camels have 2 humps, and are much better adapted to extreme cold and heat than Dromedaries. I should also note that the aroma of camels leaves something to be desired. Although I would imagine that they smell even worse during the hot summer months.
Camels are rather ungainly animals. They don’t appear to be particularly coordinated, and riding a camel can be rather like being on a boat in rough water (they are called the ‘ships of the desert’, after all!). We rode in a convoy, with a guide walking alongside us. It was an incredible way to see the desert—the swirls of sand, the sharp peaks of some of the dunes, a man herding his sheep in the scrubland at the edge of the desert. The Taklamakan is the 2nd largest shifting sand desert in the world—although Xinjiang is the largest province in China (1/6 of the country’s total territory) and has a relatively small population, population densities are as high as those in Eastern China because so much of the region is encompassed by the desert. Traders along the Silk Road would have had to skirt the southern borders of the desert to reach Kashgar. This was the same portion of the desert where we were able to ride camels. Before leaving for Kazakhstan, I commented that one of the things that I wanted to do before returning home was to ride a camel in the desert. To have done so along the ancient Silk Road was truly a phenomenal experience. There will be some great stories to tell the next time I teach about Central Asia!
I don’t know what our guide thought of us, though. Especially when we decided to start singing. It was a little hard to decide on what song to sing—since we couldn’t seem to find a song that all three of us knew the words to. Eventually we found a song we could agree on—I leave it to you to imagine three women riding camels, singing “Goodbye Earl”.
By the time our camel ride was over, the three of us were hungry and, once we were away from the warmth of the camels, freezing cold. Since we had made arrangements for lunch to be served, we thought that it would be ready upon our return. That did not turn out to be the case. Using a combination of hand signals and pictures, our guide asked us what we wanted for lunch. Eventually, we settled on the appropriate menu and then we were shown into a small room heated by a coal brazier. Initially there was a problem with the chimney and the room was filled with smoke. So…we were outside for the next stage of the lunch preparations. When we had been deciding what we wanted for lunch, our guide had indicated a cage filled with chickens. Initially, we thought that she was pointing to the chickens so we knew what sort of meat was available. As it turned out, that was NOT the case. We were being asked if we wanted one of the chickens in the cage. Before we quite realized what was happening, one of the men working at the reserve was inside the cage and having a debate with our guide about which chicken to serve us for lunch. In the past, I have been able to pick which lobster or fish I’d like for dinner—but never which chicken.
When lunch was finally served (at around 4 pm, by which time we were all glad to have eaten breakfast at the hotel), we were a little uncertain as to what we were eating. There was clearly chicken in the dish, but there was also another meat. Given the freshness of the chicken, and the fact that the only other animal we had seen was a dog, we weren’t quite sure what we were eating. But the dog was still sitting outside, and we eventually figured out that it was goat. Thank goodness! It would have been difficult if it had been dog, especially since it was pretty tasty.
Eventually, it was time to head back to Kashgar. It had been an exhausting day, and I was more than ready for a shower and to take a nap. But the day was not over yet. Our guide had one more stop for us on the way back. We were able to visit with a Uyghur family in their farmhouse. It was like walking into a living museum. The house only had two rooms—a living area and a kitchen. Carpet-covered pallets lined one side of the living area, and a dombra (traditional stringed instrument) hung on the wall. It was clearly the gathering place in the house, and also served as a bedroom at night. The only other room was the kitchen, which was significantly warmer. There was a cradle on the floor in the room, but it bore little resemblance to cradles in the US. This cradle had no sides and would be considered an antique by western standards. The farmer’s wife went over to the cradle and pulled back several layers of blankets. After she did so, we realized that her infant son was sleeping in the cradle. She untied a band of cloth that prevented him from falling out of the cradle, and proudly showed him off to us. His father came into the kitchen and played with the baby while we were there. It was clear that they were a happy family. It is a difficult life, though—with no running water, no electricity, none of the amenities that we are accustomed to in the west.
By this time, we thought that the adventures were over. But then we started hearing noises from the back of the car. Eventually, the noise became loud enough for our guide to pull over and open up the trunk—so she could quiet the three live chickens she had bought back at the camel reserve. Apparently, city prices for live chickens were rather high and these chickens were less expensive. The truly strange thing about the situation, though, was that it did not seem to be strange at all. It was just another day in Central Asia.
Friday, January 18, 2008
China--The Magic of Kashgar
Kashgar is by far one of the most magical cities I have ever seen. It is a very old city, located at the juncture of the north and south routes of the Silk Road (The Silk Road was actually a series of trade routes. The southern routes went through what is now Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan [areas such as Bukhara, Samarkand, and Merv], while the northern routes went through current-day Kyrgyzstan and the southernmost portion of Kazakhstan. These routes joined in Kashgar and then extended eastward. When Islam was introduced into Central Asia, it first took hold in cities, and today there are still a large number of Muslims (mostly Uyghurs) in Kashgar. The Id Kah mosque in the heart of the old city is considered to be one of the most sacred sites by Muslims in China.
The downtown area of the city is divided into two distinct sections. The southern half is clearly non-Uyghur (and probably mostly Han Chinese). There are stores that sell alcohol, restaurants, and shops that follow a more western style. It is even possible to order pork in restaurants (We had one dish that actually had bacon. Sheer bliss! It was the first bacon I’d had since August, since it is not readily available in Almaty). The northern half of downtown Kashgar is the original city center. Everything is centered around the Id Kah mosque (pictured in a previous blog). There is a large square in front of the mosque, with a covered bazaar opposite. Small stores and vendors line the streets, and it is not uncommon to see a man leading a donkey cart laden with goods down the street. There is a large square in front of the mosque that can accommodate upwards of 100,000 men for services on holy days. Men in green uniforms patrol the entire area, ensuring that people adhere to the strict code of behavior. No smoking or drinking alcohol, no gambling, no spitting, no littering. Even animals are affected by these rules. There are several places along the side of the square for tourists to pose with a camel, a donkey, or a pony. All of these animals stand on some sort of carpeting to keep any effluents from falling directly on the square. The poor pony even had a bucket tied around its girth to catch any urine.
When we first arrived at the mosque, it was shortly before the muezzin (call to prayer). Within minutes of hearing the call, the square was full of men dressed in black. I don’t think there was any religious reason for the prevalence of black clothing, though. It is a common choice for clothes in this region, where washing machines are scarce and dust is plentiful. Sarah, Amelia, and I definitely stood out in our brightly colored, western-style winter coats.
We spent a fair amount of time exploring the narrow alleys and warrens behind the mosque. It was absolutely fascinating. Many of the buildings have complex geometric patterns, and some of the buildings were clearly once mosques. Vendors sell all sorts of ‘street food’. My favorite? A bar made of walnuts and some sort of honey/sugar coating. Absolutely delicious-but expensive. It cost all of 30 cents for the walnut bar! The ones made of cashews or assorted nuts were only 15 cents.
Walking around for a while, we came across a street full of artisans creating their wares. Metalsmiths making copper ornaments, woodworkers carving dishes, other artisans making/playing traditional Uyghur musical instruments. It was possible to stop at stalls along the street and buy loose tea, nan (bread), just-picked tangerines, and many other items. Restaurants dotted the street—recognizable by the mutton hanging outside the door, as well as by steaming trays of manti and braziers with grilling meat out front.
English is not a very common language in Kashgar, and the city also appears to be divided by language. Uyghur is spoken in the Muslim area, and Chinese (probably Mandarin) is spoken in the remainder of the city. Unfortunately, we did not speak any Uyghur—but that did not prevent us from trying to communicate with store owners and waiters in restaurants. One restaurant we went into had a food that we couldn’t wait to try—pumpkin manti. Usually, manti is meat (m’yasa) without vegetables. To order our meal, I had to take the waiter out to the street and point to the manti, then show him 3 fingers (one order for each of us). They were nearly out of pumpkin manti, so we augmented our order with regular manti. The cost for this delicious lunch? 7.2 quai—just under $1 for three meals.
Shopping in the stores was definitely a unique experience! Bargaining is expected—but how do you bargain when you don’t speak the language?? Our technique was quite simple. We knew three phrases in Chinese (‘hello’, ‘thank you’, and ‘how much does it cost’), so we would ask the cost and then give the shopkeeper a piece of paper and pen. They would either write the price down for us, or would punch the numbers into a calculator (or cell phone) and show it to us. We would counter by writing a lower number down—if they shook their head to indicate no, we would start to walk away. Usually, the shopkeeper would follow us and agree to the lower price. It didn’t always work, but often had the desired result.
There was one store where we all agreed not to bargain. There are about five or six stores selling traditional musical instruments on this particular street. In the first store we went into, we were surprised to be greeted in English by a young man tuning an instrument. Amelia was interested in several of the different instruments, and I wanted to find something for my nephews. The young man (Kurbanjan Ablimat) spent substantial time explaining the different instruments to us, and ensuring that quality of the gifts for Ryan and Campbell (he wasn’t happy with one of the instruments, and found a better one to replace it). He also gave us directions to a store where we could buy CDs of traditional music.
We went into some of the other music stores afterwards, but the prices were all higher, the instruments weren’t as nice, and the storekeepers were not particularly friendly. We really had no intention of buying anything in the other stores, though—our plan was to go back to the original store for any other purchases. Before doing so, we went back to the hotel to drop off our bags and to make arrangements for a camel ride in the Taklamakan Desert the following day. [Thanks to Amelia’s sister, Sybil, who lives in China and speaks the language, we were able to communicate with the front desk at the hotel. Amelia called her sister, told her what we wanted, and than gave the phone to the receptionist. It took a little while, but it worked!].
By the time we returned to downtown Kashgar, it was getting late—about 5:30pm Beijing time. We weren’t sure how late the stores would be open, and needed to finish shopping for gifts that afternoon. There wouldn’t be time after camel riding, and we were returning to Urumqi the following day. Fortunately, the first music store we went into was still open. Kurbanjan greeted us and immediately began telling us more about the instruments. Amelia wanted to look at a qushtar (a stringed instrument played with a bow), and Sarah was interested in a rawab (another stringed instrument, but which is more similar to a banjo). The qushtar that Amelia selected did not have a bridge, so Kurbanjan constructed the bridge while he told us more about the store and his interest in the instruments. His family has handmade traditional Uyghur instruments for five generations. Each instrument is carefully inlaid with different types of wood, and elaborately decorated. Even the small models of these instruments are handmade. He spent time showing us how each instrument is played, and demonstrated several traditional Uyghur songs and also played some Mozart for us. It was truly a fantastic experience. We were in the store for nearly two hours, listening to music and learning about each instrument. When it eventually came time to pay for our purchases (and I am not saying what I bought, since they include several gifts), none of us even thought of bargaining. It wasn’t just a shopping trip, but an amazing cultural experience—by spending the time to explain the instruments and music to us, Kurbanjan gave us a gift that won’t soon be forgotten. Before we left, he also presented me with a CD of traditional music—which is simply beautiful.
Our day in Kashgar ended at a Chinese restaurant. It was my turn to order dinner from the menu—ordering consisted of turning several pages and pointing to items in a different range of prices. And, yes, I did manage to order hot and spicy intestines (a picture of which is in a previous post). Fortunately, the prices were very reasonable—if we didn’t like a dish, we looked around the restaurant and indicated to the waitress that we would like what another table had ordered (this is considered normal behavior in China). The total bill for the five dinner entrees? 97 quai—or about $13. When we returned to the hotel, we calculated how much we had spent on food for the entire day—the total for each of us was about $5.25, including that pricy dinner.
As enjoyable as Kashgar was, we were all excited about the next day and camel riding. We had no idea just what an adventure it would be!
The downtown area of the city is divided into two distinct sections. The southern half is clearly non-Uyghur (and probably mostly Han Chinese). There are stores that sell alcohol, restaurants, and shops that follow a more western style. It is even possible to order pork in restaurants (We had one dish that actually had bacon. Sheer bliss! It was the first bacon I’d had since August, since it is not readily available in Almaty). The northern half of downtown Kashgar is the original city center. Everything is centered around the Id Kah mosque (pictured in a previous blog). There is a large square in front of the mosque, with a covered bazaar opposite. Small stores and vendors line the streets, and it is not uncommon to see a man leading a donkey cart laden with goods down the street. There is a large square in front of the mosque that can accommodate upwards of 100,000 men for services on holy days. Men in green uniforms patrol the entire area, ensuring that people adhere to the strict code of behavior. No smoking or drinking alcohol, no gambling, no spitting, no littering. Even animals are affected by these rules. There are several places along the side of the square for tourists to pose with a camel, a donkey, or a pony. All of these animals stand on some sort of carpeting to keep any effluents from falling directly on the square. The poor pony even had a bucket tied around its girth to catch any urine.
When we first arrived at the mosque, it was shortly before the muezzin (call to prayer). Within minutes of hearing the call, the square was full of men dressed in black. I don’t think there was any religious reason for the prevalence of black clothing, though. It is a common choice for clothes in this region, where washing machines are scarce and dust is plentiful. Sarah, Amelia, and I definitely stood out in our brightly colored, western-style winter coats.
We spent a fair amount of time exploring the narrow alleys and warrens behind the mosque. It was absolutely fascinating. Many of the buildings have complex geometric patterns, and some of the buildings were clearly once mosques. Vendors sell all sorts of ‘street food’. My favorite? A bar made of walnuts and some sort of honey/sugar coating. Absolutely delicious-but expensive. It cost all of 30 cents for the walnut bar! The ones made of cashews or assorted nuts were only 15 cents.
Walking around for a while, we came across a street full of artisans creating their wares. Metalsmiths making copper ornaments, woodworkers carving dishes, other artisans making/playing traditional Uyghur musical instruments. It was possible to stop at stalls along the street and buy loose tea, nan (bread), just-picked tangerines, and many other items. Restaurants dotted the street—recognizable by the mutton hanging outside the door, as well as by steaming trays of manti and braziers with grilling meat out front.
English is not a very common language in Kashgar, and the city also appears to be divided by language. Uyghur is spoken in the Muslim area, and Chinese (probably Mandarin) is spoken in the remainder of the city. Unfortunately, we did not speak any Uyghur—but that did not prevent us from trying to communicate with store owners and waiters in restaurants. One restaurant we went into had a food that we couldn’t wait to try—pumpkin manti. Usually, manti is meat (m’yasa) without vegetables. To order our meal, I had to take the waiter out to the street and point to the manti, then show him 3 fingers (one order for each of us). They were nearly out of pumpkin manti, so we augmented our order with regular manti. The cost for this delicious lunch? 7.2 quai—just under $1 for three meals.
Shopping in the stores was definitely a unique experience! Bargaining is expected—but how do you bargain when you don’t speak the language?? Our technique was quite simple. We knew three phrases in Chinese (‘hello’, ‘thank you’, and ‘how much does it cost’), so we would ask the cost and then give the shopkeeper a piece of paper and pen. They would either write the price down for us, or would punch the numbers into a calculator (or cell phone) and show it to us. We would counter by writing a lower number down—if they shook their head to indicate no, we would start to walk away. Usually, the shopkeeper would follow us and agree to the lower price. It didn’t always work, but often had the desired result.
There was one store where we all agreed not to bargain. There are about five or six stores selling traditional musical instruments on this particular street. In the first store we went into, we were surprised to be greeted in English by a young man tuning an instrument. Amelia was interested in several of the different instruments, and I wanted to find something for my nephews. The young man (Kurbanjan Ablimat) spent substantial time explaining the different instruments to us, and ensuring that quality of the gifts for Ryan and Campbell (he wasn’t happy with one of the instruments, and found a better one to replace it). He also gave us directions to a store where we could buy CDs of traditional music.
We went into some of the other music stores afterwards, but the prices were all higher, the instruments weren’t as nice, and the storekeepers were not particularly friendly. We really had no intention of buying anything in the other stores, though—our plan was to go back to the original store for any other purchases. Before doing so, we went back to the hotel to drop off our bags and to make arrangements for a camel ride in the Taklamakan Desert the following day. [Thanks to Amelia’s sister, Sybil, who lives in China and speaks the language, we were able to communicate with the front desk at the hotel. Amelia called her sister, told her what we wanted, and than gave the phone to the receptionist. It took a little while, but it worked!].
By the time we returned to downtown Kashgar, it was getting late—about 5:30pm Beijing time. We weren’t sure how late the stores would be open, and needed to finish shopping for gifts that afternoon. There wouldn’t be time after camel riding, and we were returning to Urumqi the following day. Fortunately, the first music store we went into was still open. Kurbanjan greeted us and immediately began telling us more about the instruments. Amelia wanted to look at a qushtar (a stringed instrument played with a bow), and Sarah was interested in a rawab (another stringed instrument, but which is more similar to a banjo). The qushtar that Amelia selected did not have a bridge, so Kurbanjan constructed the bridge while he told us more about the store and his interest in the instruments. His family has handmade traditional Uyghur instruments for five generations. Each instrument is carefully inlaid with different types of wood, and elaborately decorated. Even the small models of these instruments are handmade. He spent time showing us how each instrument is played, and demonstrated several traditional Uyghur songs and also played some Mozart for us. It was truly a fantastic experience. We were in the store for nearly two hours, listening to music and learning about each instrument. When it eventually came time to pay for our purchases (and I am not saying what I bought, since they include several gifts), none of us even thought of bargaining. It wasn’t just a shopping trip, but an amazing cultural experience—by spending the time to explain the instruments and music to us, Kurbanjan gave us a gift that won’t soon be forgotten. Before we left, he also presented me with a CD of traditional music—which is simply beautiful.
Our day in Kashgar ended at a Chinese restaurant. It was my turn to order dinner from the menu—ordering consisted of turning several pages and pointing to items in a different range of prices. And, yes, I did manage to order hot and spicy intestines (a picture of which is in a previous post). Fortunately, the prices were very reasonable—if we didn’t like a dish, we looked around the restaurant and indicated to the waitress that we would like what another table had ordered (this is considered normal behavior in China). The total bill for the five dinner entrees? 97 quai—or about $13. When we returned to the hotel, we calculated how much we had spent on food for the entire day—the total for each of us was about $5.25, including that pricy dinner.
As enjoyable as Kashgar was, we were all excited about the next day and camel riding. We had no idea just what an adventure it would be!
China-Taxi Ride from Hell-Pictures
1. Road to nowhere
2. "Fixing" the car--we put the blocks on the tires, not our taxi driver
3. Directing traffic around the car
4. Waiting for the car to be fixed
5. Area right by the 'garage'--note the repairs made to the broken telephone pole. Just stick two concrete posts into the ground, and tie the pole to them. Yikes!
China--Urumqi to Khorgos--Pictures
1)Lake Sayran
2-4)Herding on the highway around Lake Sayran
5)Amelia at an overpriced "Starbucks" in Khorgos
China-train ride from Kashgar to Urumqi-Pictures
A few pictures from the train ride from Kashgar to Urumqi. 1)Highway in the Taklamakan Desert near the Flaming Mountains 2)Settlement near the Flaming Mountains 3)sunrise from a plateau above the Turpan Depression 4)largest windfarm in China, near Turpan
Thursday, January 17, 2008
China-Train Rides and Love Hotels
Having become accustomed to the chaos of transportation systems in Kazakhstan, the experience of taking the train from Urumqi to Kashgar was quite a surprise. We left for the station rather early, as we anticipated that there might be some problems finding the appropriate platform. Fortunately, we knew which bus went to the train station (having made a careful note the previous day so that we could get to the station without our guide). En route, we stopped at a small grocery store to buy food for the trip and also found an open street stall selling fresh Uyghur-style bread (flat bread encrusted with sesame seeds or onions—delicious and addictive). It was definitely better than the hotel breakfast!
Arriving at the station, we were required to show our tickets in order to enter the departure hall. However, tickets were clearly not necessary. The woman in line in front of me blatantly slipped the security guard a few banknotes and had no problem entering. The departure hall was quite large and very well organized. Most of the signs were in Uyghur and Chinese, but the train numbers were clearly marked. Each train had a specific waiting area, and it took just a few minutes to find the correct place for the train to Kashgar. As we waited for the train to begin boarding, we could not help but notice a large number of Chinese soldiers. Some were apparently receiving awards—they were the ones wearing large red flowers pinned to the front of their uniform. As it turned out, they were traveling back to Kashgar on the same train as us. However, they were in what is called “hard seat”, or standard train seats without the option of lying down and sleeping. Not too much fun on a train ride that is over 24 hours long!
We soon boarded the train, and through a combination of smiles and showing train tickets, we found the correct carriage and berths. We all had upper berths, in 2 adjoining coupes. Each coupe has four berths—two upper and two lower. The people with the lower berths also have a table to share, and a little more room. However, there are seats in the hallway that can be used by those in the upper berths. This was to be where we spent much of our waking time on the train. The train was scheduled to leave at 12:09pm (Beijing time, of course). Imagine our surprise when we pulled out of the station at exactly 12:09pm! That would NEVER happen in Kazakhstan.
I should note that the presence of three foreign women (especially when one has curly red hair, and another is 5’10”) is extremely noticeable in Xinjiang. The other people in our carriage were rather amused by us. People would peer around the side of their coupe to look at where we were sitting, and they would smile and laugh. Western tourists are apparently a novelty—and we provided entertainment for quite a few people. Except for the times when we were trying to eat, it was rather charming. I don’t recommend trying to eat a bowl of ramen noodles as people stare at you, though.
The scenery on the train ride was fascinating. The train first headed further east, to the city of Turpan. We were able to see the largest windfarm in China before the train turned south towards Kashgar. For several hours, we traveled through increasingly desolate landscapes. Periodically we would see the remnants of what looked to be either military outposts or detention camps that had clearly been torn down by human agency. It was not unusual to see camels, horses, sheep, and cows grazing near the train tracks. There were few signs of human habitation, though. Occasionally we would see smoke coming from the chimney of what looked (by western standards) to be an abandoned building. The route between Turpan and Kashgar also skirted the edges of the Taklamakan Desert (the 2nd largest shifting sand desert in the world) as well as the lower reaches of the Pamir Mountains (the “Roof of the World”). Unfortunately, we traveled through these areas after nightfall—but hoped to see them during daylight on the return trip.
The train ride was also enlivened by a constant barrage of music. This music was mostly classical and Chinese pop music, with periodic bouts of communist anthems. However, it was turned off promptly at 10:30pm—when the lights were turned off. Clearly, it was bedtime. So…we all climbed into our berths and did as directed. At 8am the next morning, the music was turned on again—a soft classical piece this time. Then, at 8:05, when we had had sufficient time to wake up (?), the lights were turned back on.
We arrived in Kashgar just after 1pm—and then had to navigate to a hotel and check in. All without speaking the language. Using Russian as a backup language would not be an option, either (as it could be in Urumqi). We were fortunate, though. One of the passengers on the train spoke some English, and had given us the names of several hotels with approximations of their rates. Armed with this information, we found a taxi driver to take us to one of these hotels. It was surprisingly easy to arrange for a room—which cost $25 per night for a triple (including breakfast). However, the first room that we entered was already occupied—so we were shown to another room to wait until they had a room ready for us.
Eventually, we got settled into our (correct) room and were ready to leave to find someplace to eat. Just a short walk from the hotel, we came across the Id Kah mosque (more on that in the next post…). The mosque is surrounded by a myriad of narrow streets, all with small shops and artisans crafting their wares. We found a “Uyghur fast food” restaurant (yes, that is what the signs in front of many of these restaurants say!) for lunch. The shashlik grilling out front looked fairly appetizing, and the sheep carcass hanging by the front door looked rather fresh—clearly a good choice! The restaurant did not have a menu (which turned out to be the case with all of the Uyghur restaurants we went to), so we used a combination of hand gestures and smiles to order. At least we could point at the shashlik and hold up three fingers!
When our food arrived, it was the usual langhman (noodles with some sort of meat). But…the waiter brought out something that we hadn’t seen before. It looked like some sort of spicy pepper sauce—so exciting after the lack of seasoning common to Kazakh food. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very spicy after all. The shashlik looked (and smelled) delicious when it arrived. It turned out to be a very special type of shashlik, too. This restaurant was clearly a step above most other Uyghur restaurants, since each skewer of shashlik contained a piece of organ meat.
After several hours of walking around the city (which I will describe in more detail later—there is so much to include that it really deserves its own post. Kashgar really is a magical city), we returned to the hotel. Earlier, we had seen a sign in the lobby for a foot massage, and we were all ready to relax and indulge ourselves for a little while. So…we went back to the hotel room, put on our tapotchki, and headed up to the 7th floor (where the sign said we could find a foot massage). When we got to the 7th floor, we were unable to find any type of spa, though. So we went to the 2nd floor—the sign had a misprint and actually said “foot massage—7nd floor”. Maybe the spa was on the 2nd floor, instead? But there was no access to the 2nd floor. Clearly, it was time to try to ask at the desk.
Fortunately, the hotel had one employee who spoke a modicum of English. Just picture the following conversation.
US: There is a sign for foot massages on the 7th floor, but we couldn’t find the spa.
ATTENDANT: Foot massage?
US: Yes, foot massage. We’ve been walking quite a bit and are tired. We’d really like a foot massage.
ATTENDANT: Oh, foot massage. That is a specialty service.
US: Okay, so do we need to make a reservation? Do they come to our room? What do we need to do?
ATTENDANT: Um…that is a specialty service, ONLY for men.
US: (turning bright red). Oh. (run to the elevator).
Clearly, we were at another love hotel. And after being in Kashgar for less than 6 hours, we once again tried to hire prostitutes. Who knew “foot massage” was code for…something else??? Judging from how our trip started, the next few days would be quite interesting!
Arriving at the station, we were required to show our tickets in order to enter the departure hall. However, tickets were clearly not necessary. The woman in line in front of me blatantly slipped the security guard a few banknotes and had no problem entering. The departure hall was quite large and very well organized. Most of the signs were in Uyghur and Chinese, but the train numbers were clearly marked. Each train had a specific waiting area, and it took just a few minutes to find the correct place for the train to Kashgar. As we waited for the train to begin boarding, we could not help but notice a large number of Chinese soldiers. Some were apparently receiving awards—they were the ones wearing large red flowers pinned to the front of their uniform. As it turned out, they were traveling back to Kashgar on the same train as us. However, they were in what is called “hard seat”, or standard train seats without the option of lying down and sleeping. Not too much fun on a train ride that is over 24 hours long!
We soon boarded the train, and through a combination of smiles and showing train tickets, we found the correct carriage and berths. We all had upper berths, in 2 adjoining coupes. Each coupe has four berths—two upper and two lower. The people with the lower berths also have a table to share, and a little more room. However, there are seats in the hallway that can be used by those in the upper berths. This was to be where we spent much of our waking time on the train. The train was scheduled to leave at 12:09pm (Beijing time, of course). Imagine our surprise when we pulled out of the station at exactly 12:09pm! That would NEVER happen in Kazakhstan.
I should note that the presence of three foreign women (especially when one has curly red hair, and another is 5’10”) is extremely noticeable in Xinjiang. The other people in our carriage were rather amused by us. People would peer around the side of their coupe to look at where we were sitting, and they would smile and laugh. Western tourists are apparently a novelty—and we provided entertainment for quite a few people. Except for the times when we were trying to eat, it was rather charming. I don’t recommend trying to eat a bowl of ramen noodles as people stare at you, though.
The scenery on the train ride was fascinating. The train first headed further east, to the city of Turpan. We were able to see the largest windfarm in China before the train turned south towards Kashgar. For several hours, we traveled through increasingly desolate landscapes. Periodically we would see the remnants of what looked to be either military outposts or detention camps that had clearly been torn down by human agency. It was not unusual to see camels, horses, sheep, and cows grazing near the train tracks. There were few signs of human habitation, though. Occasionally we would see smoke coming from the chimney of what looked (by western standards) to be an abandoned building. The route between Turpan and Kashgar also skirted the edges of the Taklamakan Desert (the 2nd largest shifting sand desert in the world) as well as the lower reaches of the Pamir Mountains (the “Roof of the World”). Unfortunately, we traveled through these areas after nightfall—but hoped to see them during daylight on the return trip.
The train ride was also enlivened by a constant barrage of music. This music was mostly classical and Chinese pop music, with periodic bouts of communist anthems. However, it was turned off promptly at 10:30pm—when the lights were turned off. Clearly, it was bedtime. So…we all climbed into our berths and did as directed. At 8am the next morning, the music was turned on again—a soft classical piece this time. Then, at 8:05, when we had had sufficient time to wake up (?), the lights were turned back on.
We arrived in Kashgar just after 1pm—and then had to navigate to a hotel and check in. All without speaking the language. Using Russian as a backup language would not be an option, either (as it could be in Urumqi). We were fortunate, though. One of the passengers on the train spoke some English, and had given us the names of several hotels with approximations of their rates. Armed with this information, we found a taxi driver to take us to one of these hotels. It was surprisingly easy to arrange for a room—which cost $25 per night for a triple (including breakfast). However, the first room that we entered was already occupied—so we were shown to another room to wait until they had a room ready for us.
Eventually, we got settled into our (correct) room and were ready to leave to find someplace to eat. Just a short walk from the hotel, we came across the Id Kah mosque (more on that in the next post…). The mosque is surrounded by a myriad of narrow streets, all with small shops and artisans crafting their wares. We found a “Uyghur fast food” restaurant (yes, that is what the signs in front of many of these restaurants say!) for lunch. The shashlik grilling out front looked fairly appetizing, and the sheep carcass hanging by the front door looked rather fresh—clearly a good choice! The restaurant did not have a menu (which turned out to be the case with all of the Uyghur restaurants we went to), so we used a combination of hand gestures and smiles to order. At least we could point at the shashlik and hold up three fingers!
When our food arrived, it was the usual langhman (noodles with some sort of meat). But…the waiter brought out something that we hadn’t seen before. It looked like some sort of spicy pepper sauce—so exciting after the lack of seasoning common to Kazakh food. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very spicy after all. The shashlik looked (and smelled) delicious when it arrived. It turned out to be a very special type of shashlik, too. This restaurant was clearly a step above most other Uyghur restaurants, since each skewer of shashlik contained a piece of organ meat.
After several hours of walking around the city (which I will describe in more detail later—there is so much to include that it really deserves its own post. Kashgar really is a magical city), we returned to the hotel. Earlier, we had seen a sign in the lobby for a foot massage, and we were all ready to relax and indulge ourselves for a little while. So…we went back to the hotel room, put on our tapotchki, and headed up to the 7th floor (where the sign said we could find a foot massage). When we got to the 7th floor, we were unable to find any type of spa, though. So we went to the 2nd floor—the sign had a misprint and actually said “foot massage—7nd floor”. Maybe the spa was on the 2nd floor, instead? But there was no access to the 2nd floor. Clearly, it was time to try to ask at the desk.
Fortunately, the hotel had one employee who spoke a modicum of English. Just picture the following conversation.
US: There is a sign for foot massages on the 7th floor, but we couldn’t find the spa.
ATTENDANT: Foot massage?
US: Yes, foot massage. We’ve been walking quite a bit and are tired. We’d really like a foot massage.
ATTENDANT: Oh, foot massage. That is a specialty service.
US: Okay, so do we need to make a reservation? Do they come to our room? What do we need to do?
ATTENDANT: Um…that is a specialty service, ONLY for men.
US: (turning bright red). Oh. (run to the elevator).
Clearly, we were at another love hotel. And after being in Kashgar for less than 6 hours, we once again tried to hire prostitutes. Who knew “foot massage” was code for…something else??? Judging from how our trip started, the next few days would be quite interesting!
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