Steve and I flew to Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang Province, on Friday. Trivia: Urumqi is the farthest city in the world from the ocean. We arrived around midnight and checked into a very rundown hotel for a little over 10 dollars. When we woke up the next morning and stepped out onto the street, we felt like we had left China. The street vendors called to us from behind carts piled with thick bread (naan), and the air was filled with the fragrant smoke from the sizzling lamb kebabs. We sat down to a breakfast of a bowel of noodles and two large lamb kebabs. Then, we boarded a 20 hour sleeper bus to cross the desert to Hotan, a city on the South Silk Road.
We arrived in Hotan on Sunday just in time for the Sunday market. The best thing about the market was that it was not at all touristy. The market was where all the local people could go to socialize and pick up anything they could ever need or want. Besides the usual clothing and food, there were also stands selling tools, knives, rope, bedding, locks, even a whole stand that only sold metal bowls of all sizes! I bought a headscarf to fit in better since the majority of the women in Xinjiang cover their heads.
After strolling around Hotan, we boarded another bus to Karkyland, a half-way point along the Southern Silk Road between Hotan and Kashgar. Karkyland is a very small city that has done a great job of preserving its Islam culture and old-town feel. We strolled down narrow streets between traditional clay houses and took pictures of the donkey carts and dust-covered children who called out "Hello!" to us. For dinner we bought snacks from the stands that surrounded the large square. In the large empty square, women in colorful headscarves strolled arm in arm, children ran around, men squatted in groups to chat and smoke.
Monday morning, we took another bus to Kashgar. Kashgar is definitely a Muslim city. The large square in the center of the city dominated by China's biggest statue of Mao Zedong is empty. The square in the Muslim section of the city headed by the city mosque is where everyone congregates. We strolled through the old section taking advantage of each narrow alleyway to get a look at the traditional Muslim architecture. At 5:00, the call to prayer "Allah-hu akbar" echoed through the streets and crowds of people streamed into the mosque.
Tuesday morning, we boarded the bus that crosses the border to Pakistan. However, we got off before the border at Karakul Lake. As the bus flew around the curves that wound up to the lake, the mountains loomed over us. It had snowed the day before, so snow-covered peaks glinted in the sunlight. Karakul Lake sits at an elevation of 3600 meters, and the mountains surrounding it are over 7700 meters high. As soon as we stepped off the bus, we were greeted by a crowd of people. One man shouted, "You live with me tonight, yes?" He showed us a letter of recommendation written in English, so we agreed to follow him to his yurt. Steve rode on the back of one man's motorcycle, and I rode a horse down into the basin that surrounds Karakul Lake.
Two men offered to take us on the backs of their motorcycles around the lake, so we spent the afternoon taking in the rugged terrain under the shadow of imposing mountains. The lake was mostly frozen over, and as the wind whipped us, we realized how unprepared we were for low temperatures. Fortunately, yurts, though simple, are surprisingly warm. The yurt is a one-room mud-brick house whose sole energy source is the fire stove that sits in the middle and burns dried cow dung for fuel. The yurt has a dirt floor, but most of the yurt is a step up from the ground, forming a large platform covered with rugs. During the daytime, we sat on the edge of the step near the stove, but at nighttime, the large platform is covered with heavy blankets and rugs, and the whole family sleeps side by side.
Our hosts were Analdin and Buliza, a couple of Kyrgyz nationality. Analdin spoke a bit of Chinese, but Burliza spoke none at all. However, we managed to communicate effectively with a lot of repetition and gestures. As the sun set, we huddled around the stove to keep warm, and Analdin played a guitar he had made himself while Burliza sang along. Analdin played some simple songs and encouraged us to sing along as well. For dinner we ate large bowls of rice with some vegetables. After dinner, we drank more tea, and Analdin and Burliza rolled cigarettes. When we finally crawled between the thick blankets, we slept soundly until sunlight from the small window woke us up the next morning. Outside the yurt, the sky was so clear that the mountain stood out against the blue sky, and the sun reflected off the icy peaks and blinded us.
We hitched a ride back to Kashgar with a friend of Analdin’s. We got back to Kashgar in half the time it took us to ride up on the bus, and we took advantage of the timing to immediately board another 20 hour bus to Turpan, a desert town near Urumqi. The woman who sold us the bus ticket told us that the bus would take us to Turpan. The bus driver said that we would pass by Turpan. However, the next morning, the bus stopped on the highway in the middle of the desert and told us to get off for Turpan. When we questioned him, he arranged for a cab sitting on the side of the road to take us. However, we did not realize how far away from Turpan we actually were. The cab took us to a bus station, where we had to board yet another bus for Turpan.
When we arrived in Turpan, we were a bit disappointed. We had expected another small, Muslim city like Karkyland, but instead, we found a crowded, dirty, semi-developed city. We quickly discovered that we were pretty much the main attraction within the city. As we walked, people shouted out the usual calls of “Hello!” but we were also approached by students of English who asked politely “May I practice English with you?” and then followed us spouting out questions from their textbook. One boy, Oslam, whose English was better than the others’, offered to help us find bicycles to rent. When we could not find a store that was both open and willing to rent out bicycles for a day, he offered us his own bicycle and said he would ask his friend to lend us his.
On Thursday, we woke up early and met Oslam, who had two bikes waiting for us. We paid him and his friend 30 kuai each and then set off to find the site of ancient ruins outside the city. We rode through the old parts of town and passed by low clay houses surrounded by the empty trellises that would bear up grape vines in the summer. The ancient city ruins were larger and better preserved than we had expected. The ancient city of Jiaohe predates the arrival of Islam in Xinjiang and sits on top of a table-top plateau in the middle of the desert. We walked through the dusty streets between the mud buildings under the brutal mid-day sun.
On Thursday night, we ate some lamb kebabs in the square at the night market and then enjoyed the fountain show. Although the fountains were pretty, I couldn’t help thinking that this small desert town should be conserving its water.
On Friday morning, we took a bus back to Urumqi. We found a great Caribbean café, where we enjoyed some curry and rice and yogurt drinks. Then, we took the afternoon to explore the city. We had thought of Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang, as just a built up city that had lost its culture in development. However, we found that Urumqi is a great mix of tradition and modernity. Despite the high buildings and fancy stores, the presence of Muslim Xinjiang is definitely felt. Friday night, we found the only foreign-owned establishment in Xinjiang – a great bar complete with foreign beers, hookah, pool, foosball, darts, and tons of board games. We hung out and met an American teaching in Xinjiang. All in all, it was a nice, relaxing, end of our trip.
Saturday morning, we boarded the plane back to Hangzhou. I think one of the nicest things about the trip was getting back to Hangzhou and feeling like I was coming home.
