wootsome

I was at People’s Park waiting for V, my HK roommate in Kashgar that I’d bumped into again here in Urumqi. I see Uighur old folks dancing Uighur-style dances with Han Chinese old folks and Uighur families picniking/ strolling about in the park. Maybe Uighurs today are content to be Chinese, who are we to interfere?

The Uighur teacher sitting next to me on the flight back reminded me that it is the policy we should be wary of, and not the Han Chinese. Good point to ponder over, since it is innately communism at work. A new friend made just as I’ve least expected on the last day of my trip.

Ironically, the first thing I did when I reached home in Shanghai was to head straight to the Uighur kebab stall for a few sticks of tasty vegetable kebabs.

I’m finally in the world’s most landlocked city, and I can’t stand it already. It reminds me too much of the typical grey (maybe in this case, brown), characterless city that is all too familiar in China today.

No time to head to Tian Chi, I suppose it is ok since I’ve already been to Karakul Lake. Tian Chi is for Chinese tourists who take the lazy man’s tour of Xinjiang.

However well-intended China’s free museum entry policy is, if in practice it causes opening hours to be restricted (free tickets distributed at two stipulated times everyday, visits restricted to 1h+ per time), then I would rather pay to loiter in my own time without constraints.

The foreigners’ registration procedures prove too much of a hassle at an internet cafe. The owner lets me have internet access without proper registration, yay!

For the first time in this trip, I’m craving for company - would be nice to be with friends having dinner drinking cold beer at the Wuyi Road Night Market.

More than once I’ve witnessed this, so I don’t think I’m too far wrong to say that Uighur men make great dads.

Sadly like Yarkand, Hotan is swiftly losing its charm. Such is the sad reality bidding the depressing end to all the ancient Silk Road cities.

My travels through far flung villages in Philippines, Mongolia and currently now in the Westernmost province of China have allowed me to appreciate the opportunities that I have as a female born in a modern society. I am thankful, I mustn’t forget that.

Chanced upon very delicious laghman on Nawag Road, I wished I had ordered the bigger portion instead.

Sleeper buses are rather cool and practical inventions for long hauls on the road. Why don’t I see them in Singapore, should be good for plying the Singapore-KL route, no?

This may come across startling or extreme but let’s have a go at this. Given the Han Chinese fascination with everything Caucasian/ Western, I suppose it should not be too difficult for Uighurs with their exotic Eurasian looks to rule ’superior’ or to interact more with foreigners. Then does it make sense that there seems to be a systematic isolation of Uighurs by the Chinese government? Why else would the government revise written Uighur from Roman alphabetical form to its current Arabic script? Or to subject Uighurs to constant humiliating police checks almost like criminals in their own country? We don’t see this practiced elsewhere in China, does the common Uighur on the street know better?

I need to save money to travel more.

The interesting bit with regards to Xinjiang where so many people are remarking they don’t feel like they are in China anymore - doesn’t anyone notice that all the Uighurs are adept at using chopsticks?

I like Yarkand’s old town. Blacksmiths working over fires and a taste of Uighur everyday life.

Strangely but maybe not strangely so, I find myself being taken care of by Han Chinese folks everywhere in Xinjiang. If in doubt or encountering a problem, trust a Han Chinese stranger to help. I think they find it their duty as a fellow Chinese to assist. This is the only thing that doesn’t put me off toward Han Chinese.

Usually, I just can’t help but dislike Han Chinese because of their blatant distrust of Uighurs. Racial harmony is such a farce in China! Unfortunately so, my heritage causes me to inherit this baggage - Uighurs are sometimes distrustful of me as a result as much as I am a clean slate, sympathetic of their cause and position in Chinese society.

Karmic it is, I surprise myself in unexpected ways as I now am finding the other kind of Uighur men (the Eurasian looking ones have always been appealing thus far) attractive - Chinese eyes, high/ rosy cheekbones, straight noses and moustached (!). S is having the last laugh I’m sure.

So many police checkpoints as I travel by bus in Xinjiang. I wonder if the heightened security not seen elsewhere in China is a result of “Uighur separatist elements” or the ever-tiresome Beijing Olympics fervor.

The Khunjerab Pass is indeed currently closed to both Chinese locals and foreigners alike for sightseeing. It’s only open if I’m traveling onward to Pakistan, but the problem is I’m not. The morning I’m due to leave Tashkurgan, I made a last ditch attempt to venture out to wherever as close as I could to Khunjerab Pass. I walked along Route 314, past a checkpoint that was surprisingly unguarded but had to turn back for lack of time (bus to Kashgar leaves at 11am Beijing Time) and onward vehicle. Damn.

Loudspeakers affixed to streetside lamp posts started blaring announcements in Tajik early in the morning. My casual enquiries informed me that these are propaganda messages instructing the locals how they should behave during the Beijing Olympics period.

I’d met quite a number of Han Chinese who have the same opinion of Tajiks, most of whom (some 28,000) reside in Tashkurgan, China’s only Tajik Autonomous County - Tajiks are reputed to be honest.

Interesting Tajik customs to note here. When greeting friends, men clasp each other’s hands and kiss the back of their friend’s hands. The maximum number of kisses: 4, for very good friends. Women cheek kiss twice, not unlike their Western counterparts.

I’d decided to do the Southern Silk Road turn to Urumqi and so would travel next to Yarkand. There are no direct buses from Tashkurgan so a 4h bus journey to Kashgar then 4h more to Yarkand.

No motels, guesthouses would take me in Yarkand. Apparently only three hotels are licensed to receive foreigners, and they charge RMB 100-200+/ night. Nice one, Chinese government under the pretext of ensuring the safety/ comfort of your foreign guests. Talking to some Han Chinese at a hotel that couldn’t take me, they actually sincerely believe that this policy is what it is at face value. They told me of a brutal murder that had occurred just all of two weeks ago committed in a hotel by a Uighur and advised “it’s not safe for a Han Chinese girl to wander in Uighur districts past night fall”. While searching for non-sleazy bathhouses (a last option as suggested by the helpful Han Chinese), I stumbled upon a better solution: all-night internet access in the private booth of an internet cafe for RMB 20.

I spent the morning at Karakul Lake strolling lakeside and eating my slightly-stale nang for breakfast. I feel recharged being able to spend time alone in the midst of nature.

AR, a fellow backpacker from Italy and I waited by the side of the road for 1.5 hours in the scorching afternoon heat for the bus to Tashkurgan that would pass by the lake. I’m feeling burnt-out as it is, it must be worse for her as she is feeling a little unwell from the effects of altitude sickness.

The smell of nature - of dirt and grit that becomes so obvious when I spritz water on my face - is something that I think I’ve grown to love. It’s a smell one will only acquire after days on the road, after a lack of the usual comforts we are so accustomed to i.e. no showers, rugged travels without the familiar bed. I’m glad I’m experiencing it again this time in Xinjiang. It reminds me of those days in Mongolia.

It’s inspiring to meet fellow backpackers. I wish I can travel for longer like them too.

Experienced a little over-zealous friendliness from the Tajik gatekeeper at the stone city ruins. Shook hands, said byes and I’ll still send him the photo I’ve taken of him regardless.

Say hello to the world’s slowest internet connection (dial-up) at the internet cafe that still operates on the basis that it is the only one in Tashkurgan. I left after 15 min because all my pages are refusing to load.

I got on a bus to Karakul Lake that leaves on time. Nothing to be too chirpy about though as the driver had trouble fueling up for the journey at petrol stations. All the petrol stations down the road were out of diesel. We only saw lines, Uighur men, motorbikes and tractors. A German backpacker commented that there had been a price hike two days ago that led to over-refueling and hence the shortage.

Lunch today is delicious mutton dumplings at Upal, an hour from Kashgar. One thing that I know I’ll miss about Xinjiang will be the tea. It’s fragrant and not diluted like the crap they serve at Chinese restaurants. The only unpleasant bit, the cashier tried overcharging me by RMB 0.20 just because I don’t look local, bah.

Do the Kyrgyz eat fish? (No.)

Karakul Lake is gorgeous, flanked by Pamir Mountains and the Muztagh Ata (7546m). I’m staying in a yurt with a local Kyrgyz family tonight, which going by past experience, also means the-wilderness-is-your-toilet and don’t-bother-about-brushing-your-teeth.

I’ve just realized there is something incredibly sensual about galloping horseback with a male. Gosh, what else is there not to like about horseback riding?

I asked the Kyrgyz village chief if he would want to go visit Kyrgyzstan one day. He tells me he is Chinese and the visa would definitely cost too much for him to afford.

First I’d forgotten to pack my lip balm, then I lost the crappy Chinese hanyupinyin-brand lip balm I’d bought in Dunhuang. My solution: when lips feel dry, sip water. Seems to work fine for now.

Kashgar’s famed Sunday bazaar actually comprises of two bazaars, Mal Bazaar (Livestock Market) out in Southeast Kashgar and Yengi Bazaar (Sunday Market) closer to town center in the Northeast. I prefer Mal Bazaar more with its share of rugged men, bleating animals and dirt roads. I wish I had more guts to go sit down with the Opke-eating men. Yengi Bazaar turned out to be a little more commercialized than what I’d pictured in mind (Uighurs touting and hawking their wares out in the blazing heat like in Kuqa) but I shan’t complain ‘cos I got cool Uighur knives for the males in my life that I care about.

I had a hard time trying to leave a fur products store because its charming salesman (such lovely eyes) kept piling on fur hat, a stole, another hat, something else… pulling at my hands and refusing to let me go. If he had been selling something else (maybe non-fur hats or knives which I have a bigger weakness for), I’m sure I couldn’t have left empty-handed.

For the first time ever, I have to register with my passport in order to access internet at the internet cafe. I don’t like this.

Sichuan people are everywhere, in the far reaches and armpits deep in the heart of China and what naught. Here I met the owners of a small Sichuanese restaurant, a couple who has uprooted their family (kids and parents) and who has been here for 10+ years and going strong. Kashgar is and will be their home.

Traveling alone is not too bad considering I have all the time in the world to soak in the new scenes and to think.

I’m glad Kashgar still has its old town intact, though I’m sure it is due for redevelopment in time to come.

Everything that traveler’s health guides warn you against, to partake at your own risk - streetfood and ice. Dogh, the Uighur dessert of shaved ice, yoghurt and honey perfect for Kashgar’s almost intolerable sweltering afternoons is worth every bit of potential travelers’ diarrhoea (thankfully, none).

Must propaganda be more strong-handed and blatant the further away provinces are from Beijing? Toward Kashgar I witness plenty of propaganda yet it is here in the Westernmost city that I see one of the largest Mao statues in China and propaganda messages recklessly handpainted on the lovely walls of old town.

My only contact with the world-at-large comes in the form of watching football on the telly with my Canadian roommate, Euro2008 France vs. Netherlands (great game, Netherlands).

Why do I feel like I’m constantly being overcharged for food everywhere? (Note: Can polo, priced at RMB 5, really cost RMB 12 if I have a chicken drumstick too?)

Walking around the bazaar is good fun. I’m the only foreigner around and I wish I could have picked up some fresh produce like the locals.

Kuqa appears to be the last place in the world where one will crave for sex. There are HIV/ AIDS awareness posters everywhere, from the door of my hostel room to painted Arabic/ Chinese bilingual signs on the walls in the streets.

Preventing a man who is trying to enter the shower room when you are half dressed and all you’ve got is brute strength pressing your body against the door is no laughing matter.

No direct bus from Kuqa to Kashgar so I’m hopping on a bus to Aksu (yet another town with its history erased) first then to Kashgar.

Popular Chinese TV serial classic, Journey to the West theme song plays the moment I enter Aksu bus station. Absolutely hilarious, I can’t help but grin to myself.