Kashgar, Friday, September 7
I spent most of the day traveling. First, I took a three and a half hour flight from Beijing to Urumqi. That's about the same distance as flying from New York to California. Urumqi is in the far northwest corner of China, in Xinjiang province. It's surrounded by mountains and deserts and is a hard place to get to by land travel. One of its claims to fame is that no city is farther for an ocean than Urumqi.

A couple of interesting thing happened on the flight. First, besides showing how to use the seatbelt and oxygen masks, the safety movie also shows how to operate the flush toilet. It made me wonder about my fellow passenger.

Then there were the two Chines guys in my row - apparently they had never flown. Even after attentively watched the safety movie, the stewardess still had to assist them with their seat belts.

Anyway, I had the window seat and the guy in the middle clearly wanted to look out. Stupidly, I invited him to do so and after that I had to deal with his bobbing head as he explained what he was seeing to his companion. This went on for as long as I could stand it and finally I got up and offered my seat to the guy on the aisle. After that they stayed glued to the window as we flew over the Gobi desert.

I had a 4-hour layover in Urumqi - not enough time to visit the city and way too much to just sit around the airport. Luckily I met a Swiss couple that had come in on the same flight and were also heading to Kashgar. We spent the time drinking beer and swapping travel tales in the airport restaurant.

The next leg of my journey was only about an hour and a half. We flew over dramatically eroded hills with snow-capped mountains in the background. In Kashgar we shared a taxi into town.

After checking into the Seman hotel, I set out for a quick walk. The streets were very dusty and full of insistently honking cars and trucks. It was starting to get dark and I was running out of energy, so I headed back to the hotel for a beer in the hotel's courtyard restaurant. After that, bed.

Kashgar, Saturday, September 8
I woke up before it was light - I was still on Beijing time. After breakfast I took a long walk in the old city. Immediately I felt I had left China and entered in Central Asia. The facial features and dress were completely different: the men were in scull caps and many women wore veils. Also the signs were written Arabic script along with Chinese.

First, I stepped into a vegetable market were I saw piles of melons and grapes, carrots and peppers. Then I walked down a street where there were woodworkers, tinsmiths, butchers, dentists, shoe repairmen and noodle maker all working side by side. Charcoal cook fires filled the street with smoke and donkey carts and tractors raised dust as they passed. I was in heaven - it was all the delightful chaos of Asia that I love so much.

At first I was a little shy about taking pictures - I wasn't sure how people would react - but I soon discovered that their was no problem at all. In fact, many people were flattered I wanted to take their picture. Once I got going, I shot two rolls before I knew it.

I soon arrived at the Id Kah Mosque and it gave me a few minutes rest from the dust and noise. The mosque is a modest building set in a peaceful garden right on the main square of the old town. The prayer hall was closed to non-Muslims, but looking in through the door I could see that it was completely unadorned.

On the west side of the mosque there were a few small stands selling jewelry and other trinkets. While looking, I found a couple of small silver stamps. They were conical shaped and had backwards Arabic script on the face. They were apparently used for signing documents, like a Chinese chop. I had never seen anything like them, so I bought two - 40 Yuan each ($5). I then took a taxi back to the hotel for lunch.

In the afternoon I set out to see a couple of the tombs on the outskirts of Kashgar. First, I got a taxi and explained to the driver the two places I wanted to go. When we settled on a price for the whole trip, I got in.

The first stop was at the Abakh Hoja Tomb about 2km northeast of Kashgar. It was down a lovely tree-lined lane. As soon as I saw it, I decided that I wanted to walk back when I had seen the tomb. When we pulled into the parking lot I paid the taxi driver and got out. I could see that this confused him - he had expected to be continuing on with me.

The tomb was a humble dome-covered building that sat in a rose garden. The workmanship was rather shoddy and the tiles didn't match, but it still had a kind of simple charm. Inside there were 20 or so tombstones covered with dusty green or red shrouds.

When I got back to the parking lot the taxi driver was still sitting there. I just waved as I walked by. Outside there were several horse-carts for hire, but I passed them up too.

Tall poplars lined both sides of the road and behind them there were high mud walls enclosing residential compounds. Several of the gates to the compounds were open and I could glimpse the garden inside. It was a very refreshing walk back to the main road.

From there I got another taxi to the Tomb of Yusup Hazi Hajup on the south side of Kashgar. It was also sat in a rose garden. The dome was covered with pale blue tile. Looking at it against the blue sky I felt I was viewing the world through blue tinted glasses. The inside was quite plain. After that I took a taxi back to the hotel and had dinner.

Just as it was starting to get dark I went for a walk. Around my hotel there were a number of restaurants and cafés, which were full of locals eating and drinking. Across the street there was an outdoor pool hall - there were six tables setup on the sidewalk and lots of young men playing. I walked over for a closer look and, as I was standing there, I heard someone say, "Hello." I turned to see a young man I had met earlier in the bazaar.

"Have you come to play pool?" I ventured. "No," he said, "We have come looking for a man who said he would help with our English." He was with two other lads about the same age. I held out my hand and said hello to them. We stood talking for a few minutes, but the street noise made it difficult. Also, I slowly realized what a great opportunity had just been handed me. Practicing English with them would allow me to ask about their lives.

"If you don't find your friend, I would like to buy you a drink," I said. They quickly forgot their other friend and accepted my offer. It was now quite dark and the vehicle headlights showed how dusty the air was. I asked where they would like to go. They debated among themselves for a few minutes before the first fellow suggested John's - it's an Internet café directly across from my hotel. I was hoping for something a little more traditional - maybe a local teahouse. This is often the difference between travelers and locals: travelers want to see the old life while the locals want to show that they are modern.

When we sat down I asked what they wanted to drink, purposely suggesting a Coke. They asked if I drank beer. When I said I did, they said that was what they wanted. I felt a little funny ordering alcohol for them - Xinjiang is predominately Muslim and I had expected they would want soda or tea. Again, the difference between how the tourist sees things and how they actually are.

The first fellow orders. As we were waiting I asked each of them their names. (I'm afraid I didn't get to my journal soon enough and have forgotten their names, so I will identify them by their occupations.) I also asked what kind of work they did. The first fellow said, "We are businessmen."

It turned out they were salesmen: the first one, the one I had met near the main mosque, sold rugs. He said he was 19 years old. One of the others, the same age, said he sold men's clothing in the bazaar. The last fellow, who was 18 years old, sold sweets in a shop in the downtown area.

Thinking back to myself at 19, I asked what turned out to be a pretty stupid question. "So, do you guy's have girlfriends?" "No," the rug salesman firmly replied, "They take too much time and money."

Still thinking in Westerner terms, I plowed in deeper: "If you don't have a girlfriend, how will you find a wife?" My question drew blank stares. Then a little light bulb went off over my head. I quickly retreated: "So, tell me how you will get married."

Now this was question they understood. The clothing salesman said that when they were about 22 years old they would get married. Their family would choose a wife for them and they would have a big wedding. From that point view I guess they were right: a girlfriend was a distraction.

They told me they were Uighurs (they pronounced it WE GARS), the predominate minority in Xinjiang province. They said that they speak their own language (which uses the Arabic alphabet).

All the time we were working on the four large bottles of beer. In particular, the clothing salesman was going at it pretty steady, always filling our glasses and emptying his quite quickly. Abruptly he stood up and announced, "Sorry, I have to go to the WC." In a flash he was gone.

I continued talking to the others for a while and finally realized I needed to go to bed - I was planning on getting up at dawn to visit the Sunday market. I inquired about our missing companion and was reassured that he was ok. It was then that I realized he might have drank too much. I made his friends promise to go find him. I then crossed the street to my hotel and went to bed.

Kashgar, Sunday, September 9
I got up while it was still dark and headed out to see the famous Sunday market. When I got there it was just getting light and still quite chilly. I wished I had worn a jacket, but knew it would soon warm up. The street was already full of donkey carts, bicycles, taxis, trucks and pedestrians. A few vendors were already set up, some selling firewood and others vegetables.

As I walked along several trucks loaded with ice passed me. I wondered where the ice might have come from. The dirty chunks were huge and looked more like they had been cut off a glacier than frozen locally - was that possible?

Down the road I stopped at a walled compound the size of a football field. At the entrance a man was charging a toll for the animals being herded in. Inside it was crowded with great wooly camels, long horned yaks, black restless donkeys and lines and lines of passive, bleating sheep. Meanwhile, men were unloading more sheep from a truck.

I had to watch every step - the ground was muddy and strewn with animal droppings. Also, I thought it best to avoid walking directly behind the larger animals. To add to the confusion, the tourist photographers were doing a delicate little dance trying to keep out of each other's way. Much to my surprise the locals were quite tolerant of the clicking fools and occasionally even posed for us.

Outside the compound I saw that more people were arriving all the time. The street café's were full of people having breakfast and the air was full of the smoke from grilling meat.

Next, I headed over to the market proper. It was a vast covered area with row after row of vendors selling everything from wool hats to silk carpets, from dried snakes to fresh bread, from toothpaste to bicycle tires. More and more people were pouring in all the time. The sun was getting hotter and the lanes were getting more crowded.

I saw a man dressed in a suit with a live chicken tucked under each arm, the alert heads peering out behind him. There was a smiling, toothless man cranking an ice cream maker. At a restaurant an old 55-gallon drum had been converted into a stove to cook steamed buns. There were barbers, herb salesmen and pool tables along the crowded lanes. It was a feast for the eyes and the lens.

The Kashgar market is reputed to be the largest in Central Asia. I don't know about that, but it was certainly one of the most lively and interesting places I have ever visited. And, the town of Kashgar is quite fascinating too. First, there is the dichotomy between the traditional Uighur town and the new Chinese city that has been grafted onto the south side.

The two places couldn't be more different. The new town was indistinguishable from all the other Chinese cities I had visited - new concrete buildings containing banks and department stores. That drab place was in great contrast to the wonders of the Uighur town, so lively and full of character.

Then there were the tourists. Kashgar is about as far west as you can go in China. I flew and it took me the better part of the day to get there. By train or bus it's 24 hours from Urumqi - and Urumqi is another two and a half days from Beijing. Undertaking a trip to Kashgar is no casual endeavor.

When I arrived at Kashgar, I was surprised to see so many other tourists. Tour groups and backpackers filled the 500 beds of my hotel and there were tourists everywhere in the Sunday market. Where did they all come from? Some probably flew in for the market like I did. Others were probably doing the silk route, either coming from or going to Central Asia. Still, to travel so far and to see so many other tourists was a surprise to me.

Finally, I got tired of the market - the crowds, the noise and the heat - and took a taxi back to the hotel. But, one trip wasn't enough - after a nap and lunch, I headed back to see more. People were still streaming in on donkeys, bicycles and on foot - how could there be room for all of them? Also, where did they all come from? I walked around and looked at all the carpet vendors, but didn't find anything I fancied.

As I was standing watching the flow of people, a young boy came up to me. He was carrying a small bundle. He unwrapped and held it up for me to see. It was a small black rabbit, its tiny nose twitching at me. The kid gave me a proud smile and walked off. I guess he has just bought it and wanted to show someone.

I walked some more until I finally had my fill and went back to the hotel for another nap. In the late afternoon I took one more walk, this time to the new city. Finally at about 11:00 P.M. a taxi arrived to take me to the airport - I was on my way back to Urumqi.

The flight was uneventful. Outside the Urumqi airport I was surrounded by shouting taxi drivers - it was 2:00 A.M. - so I chose the only woman in the crowd. It turned out that some guy was actually driving - she was just the shill - and he sped recklessly through empty streets to my hotel, the Hong Fu. I checked in and dropped into bed.

Ann Arbor, Michigan
November 2001

Part One: Beijing & Tianjin
Part Two: Beidaihe
Part Four: Urumqi & Turpan
Part Five: Details & Hotels

Read more of my travelogues

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