wootsome

I arrived in Kuqa last night, dead-of-the-night 1.30am off the stinky bus (seriously, I don’t know what would give off such a foul smell?) to the opportunistic reception lady at Jiaotong Binguan who claimed all foreigners must take up standard rooms because “foreigners are not allowed to share dorms with Chinese nationals per new PSB regulations in Xinjiang”. I told her to show me the legal document otherwise don’t give me crap. I got my way - 30rmb to a bed in an empty two-bed dorm without bathroom.

Given its history as an important Buddhist city-state on the Silk Road, Kuqa should have been interesting with ruins and monuments (LP states “when the 7th-century monk Xuan Zang passed through, he recorded that two enormous 30m-high Buddha status flanked Kuqa’s western gate”). Yet, it sadly isn’t.

Today I’d walked a few kilometres to Qiuci Ancient City Ruins only to see some earthern mounds amid weeds from the stairs of a Uighur residence next door to the walled ruins.

Guy at internet cafe I’m in now just told me I’m not supposed to surf overseas sites (Chinese sites only!) because “tension is high now and PSB is fervently enforcing crackdowns”.  He just came by again to check that I’m not sending emails - not too tough when he can’t read English.

It’s bazaar day tomorrow in Kuqa, actually the main reason for why I had stopped by the town. Let’s hope it’ll be fun and wish me luck in picking up some cool souvenirs. I haven’t bought anything yet so far. Next up, onward to Kashgar.
 

True to its namesake as the world’s second lowest depression in the world at 154m below sea level, I’m experiencing Turpan’s infamous summer heat. The temperatures rose to over-50 degree celsius, not sure exactly how high as it had exceeded the range (50 degree celsius max) on my thermometer.

I’m fending off amorous advances from A’s friend who has a Chinese-Canadian girlfriend in Shanghai. Why are most men jerkfaces?

Even after a shower, my body reeks of yesterday’s alcohol - the sour fermented odour of cheap beer - for most of the morning. I wonder if it has to do with the heat and I’m trying to drink as much water as I can to rid myself of it. I can’t believe that I had at first mistakenly thought it was wafting off my taxi driver (“Omg, drinking already so early in the day!”), oops.

What is with the Uighur female’s obsession with high heels. i.e. 3-4 inch heels impractical for walking on uneven dirt roads?

Four bottles of mineral water, these are the farewell gifts from my Uighur friends in Turpan. Two from A and two from ST, even after I told them I could get them myself later on. I miss Turpan already.

I waited nearly 4 hours on a minivan for a RMB 7.5 ride to Turpan proper from Daheyan train station. In the end, I hopped onto a taxi instead. RMB 15 well-spent because I refuse to spend any more time with skanky Han Chinese men in the parking lot of the train station.

I really don’t like the deep-rooted distrust Han Chinese have of Uighurs. More than once, the skanky Han Chinese men had warned me of Uighurs who would “persistently follow me if I don’t want to take a day tour” or “hike up prices the moment I’m in their cars”.

Now that the Chinese government is cutting down on all sorts of visas (tourist visas inclusive) to foreigners in view of the “upcoming Beijing Olympic Games”, I’m witnessing the brunt of it as I travel: I’m the only foreign backpacker in most places and for the first time ever, I don’t see lao wai (golden haired Caucasian) backpackers everywhere I go. The bad part, no one to share my transport costs should I need to head out to sites.

I had no choice but to hire a driver to see the sites around Turpan (RMB 150 - much more than I’d allocated for though well below the standard rates of RMB 200+) not covered in standard tours. A, my Uighur driver turns out to be really decent and nice. We had delicious honeydew melons en route at a local house in Tuyoq. I gave him as much as I could spare this part of the journey, an extra RMB 20 as tips.

A, also my first Uighur friend on the trip then took me to dinner with a few of his friends. Dapanji (literally, big-plated chicken; a traditional Xinjiang dish of chicken, vegetables and handmade noodles) and loads of beer later, I’ve learnt how to say gan bei in Uighur with passable accuracy - “Houshek!”

The cave art, architecture and sculptures at Mogao Grottoes are indeed spectacular, though a little lost on me as I got abit bored by the sixth, seventh, etc. cave. No photography allowed plus a compulsory guided tour didn’t help. Maybe I like Yungang Grottoes a little better.

Delicious mala tang and liangpi (alot more garlicky than the ones in Shanghai), accompanied by an ice-cold can of coke plus the excellent novel I’m halfway through, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, make for a nice lazy lunch break.

I’m seeing rampant use of disposable food containers and plastic-bag wrapped bowls here. Granted it is the same everywhere in China, maybe a ban on this to follow the recent plastic bag ban?

I headed off to a small Sichuan restaurant bustling with people near the train station for a quick dinner before my train to Turpan at 9.52pm. Some drunken man in a dirty uniform came over to sit at my table and attempted small talk. As with drunkards, minimize all talk and eye contact. I don’t want trouble and I don’t want to miss my train.

Train station staff mistakenly thought the train had left and refused a fellow passenger and I entry into the station. Got a little pissed at her, she didn’t even apologize after she realized her blunder.
 

At 7.35pm the train is leaving Lanzhou station, the furthest that I’ve ever been in China. I’m starting to embark on new territories Westwards.

My journey westwards will start off in Dunhuang, Gansu. As it is located in the far Western reaches of Gansu province near Xinjiang province, it makes more sense to visit it this time that I’m bound for Xinjiang than last May when I was in Gansu.

33h on a train (hard sleeper) shouldn’t be too tough, I’ve done the same from Beijing to Ulaan Bator and Xi’an to Shanghai a few years back. Not to mention, more than 24h on a hard seat Shanghai to Xi’an once.

I’d exchanged my lower bunk bed for a mid bunk with a lady who was travelling with a young child. Good karma for the rest of the trip as she fed me constantly, strawberry-flavored milk packets one moment and cup noodles next.

• Off to Xinjiang for two weeks. Later.

Another talk, this time with my hiring partner.

• Design is honest. Advertising is lying. (via FFFFOUND!)

Two pairs, woolly and thick. Read more about the project here.