Emails From Xinjiang

Xinjiang, the Westernmost Province of China

The following is a post-edited (for grammar and expression) compilation of emails sent to Madeline and Joy

Sent: Wed, May 20 0646 Beijing Time

Urumqi1

Hi girls

Arrived safely in Urumqi, but went to bed early in the evening after a short walk exploring the city. It is just like any other Han Chinese city, except that it has a huge Uighur quarter. I tried to locate the hotel where we last stayed in 2006, but could not find it.

For dinner I went to the restaurant recommended by my guide book. I ordered pilaff rice (polo) cooked with chunks of lamb and carrots with raisins, two skewers of lamb kebab, and 酸奶(sour milk). I had expected the sour milk to be a sort of lassi drink, but it turned out to be more of a yoghurt form, to be eaten with a spoon and optional sugar. I had also expected the pilaff to be like our biryani, but I was disappointed. The rice comes soggy, with chunks of fatty lamb. I mistook the colourful but tasteless yellow carrots for capsicum. Initially I had asked for chicken polo, but they had no other meat but lamb. The strong smell of lamb can be quite off-putting, and will be especially so for Mum I am sure. The kebabs are a little better, spicy and tasty, but very fatty. I bit into a mouthful of fat, and quietly spitted it out when I thought no one was looking. I did not enjoy the meal, but will give the food another chance. In any case there is always KFC to fall back on.

Today I will go to the Provincial Museum to see the multi-millenium old corpse exhibits for which Xinjiang is famous.. And to continue to practice the Uighur language. There is a considerable amount of interest and goodwill when they know that I am not Chinese,. Besides, I never fail to let them know that. ‘Yahximu siz, men Singapurdin kelidim - How are you, I am from Singapore’ or ‘Rahmat sizge – Thank you’. It goes a long way to allay the suspicions of the locals towards me. Due to their unhappy history, the Hans and Uighurs are always wary of each other.To make matters worse, the Han immigrant makes no effort to understand the cultural practices of their Uighur compatriots. Is there any wonder then that there are independence seeking movements such as the Turkish Islamic Republic of East Turkestan (TIRET). I believe there are some lessons here about racial and social harmony that Singapore can offer.

Dad

Sent:Thu, May 21 0914 Beijing Time

Urumqi2

Hi

I had a good day yesterday, and overslept this morning, till 730. My one and a half hour flight to Kashgar will be at 1405, and I have checked out the free bus service to the airport. The China Southern Airlines office a few blocks away provide free shuttle. I stumbled upon it by accident.

After writing to you yesterday I took a bus to a place about 25km away. It was supposed to be the geographic centre of Asia, the point furthest away from all the oceans. How it was determined escapes me. It is much like deciding on who is the one millionth visitor to Singapore Changi Airport, not quite rocket science!

Of course I had lunch at KFC yesterday. I tried the black pepper beef wrap set. It was good but not adequate, so I ordered another piece of chicken and a blueberry egg tart. Yummy. On the next table sat five young lads from Turkmenistan, whom I mistook for their ethnic cousins the Uighurs. They are studying Chinese in Urumqi. Only one can converse in English. All have heard and thought well of Singapore.

When leaving KFC I found out that there is a food court on the 4^th level. The food looked good and the place very clean. I will surely come over for a meal.

Here it doesn’t get dark till 1030 at night. For dinner, at eight, I went to a local Uighur restaurant for their kebab and ban mian拌面. This time it is slightly better, but only just. There was plenty of liver and gizzard among the meat and vegetables. The evening was chilly and the food quickly became cold as I sat in the open portion of the restaurant, This well patronised restaurant was named after the Chinese singer Dao Lang刀郎 whose mournful song about Urumqi in winter topped the charts a few years back. Tuck On and myself each bought a CD in Chengdu when I visited him then. In Urumqi at least I have a choice of food. I think I may have a problem in Kashgar.

Dad

Sent: Fri, May 22 1751 Beijing Time

Kashgar1

Hi girls

I moved hotel this morning. Upon my arrival in Kashgar yesterday I checked into the new wing of the Chinibagh Hotel, the former British Consulate. Although it is supposedly in the new wing the hotel room is typical of those 3 or 4 star hotels in other parts of China. The room was stuffy, the carpet worn, the toilet leaked, and the wardrobe doors creaked. The breakfast is the usual substandard fare. Imagine my delight when I discovered a brand new Home Inn a few doors away. I wasted no time in moving. Besides it cost 80 yuan less, and everything about the place is brand new! This is clearly the best Home Inn I’ve lived in. Its really comfortable, with everything in place, even the exact position of the bedside light switch, just like in your own home.

The former British Consulate, the Chinibagh Hotel and the former Russian Consulate, the Seman are relics of the Great Game of the mid to late19th century, a period when China was at its weakest poltiically. They were then great centres for spying on each other. The likes of Francis Younghusband stayed at the Chinibagh, whereas equally well known Prejevalsky stayed at the Seman.

Yesterday I explored the city on foot and by bus. Food is a problem. I couldn’t find a clean enough restaurant. Finally I ate at an average looking restaurant near the famous Id Kah Mosque, with predictably disastrous consequence. I had 3 skewers of lamb kebab, yet again, and a bowl of laghman, a sort of kwayteow in meat sauce. Earlier in the evening I made friends with some locals at a tea kiosk, and was offered a complimentary ice-cream, since I was their honoured guest from Singapore.

In my few days here I haven’t once encountered anyone hostile as yet. All, including the old lady in the bus this morning to Opal, offered nothing but welcome and goodwill. They do look at you with suspicion initially, but you have only to make simple conversation with them to put them at ease. I do it with my favourite words – men Singapurdin keldim, I am from Singapore. They never fail to express compliment.

As they say ‘Hands up, those who have never crapped in their pants’.

It happened to me this afternoon, on my way back. Earlier I had taken the bus to Mahmud Kashgari Masouleum 45km away in the outskirts. The return fare is really cheap, and the sights along the way, interesting. Believe it or not, the total transport charges, by local bus of course, is only 14 yuan, $3. Its incredible. If I had joined a group tour, it would have set me back by more than 100 yuan!

On the bus back I started to feel the need to go, for the big one. After holding back all the way to the hotel, right up to getting off the lift on my floor level, I pooped! Okay, I know what you girls are thinking, but it just happened. Like I suspected, it was either the laghman or the ice cream. Never mind, my tummy would now have gotten used to the kind of new bacteria, so I should be OK from now on, but one can never be too sure.

After writing this I will take the bus to the nearby orchard garden where there will be traditional singing and dancing, and then to the world reknown Kashgar Bazaar, reminiscent of the ancient Silk Road. Ciao! As Marco would say.

Dad

Sent: Fri May 22 2259 Beijing Time

Kashgar2

Hi girls

I bought 1kilo of almonds, and 1kilo of raisins, after much bargaining. Who is going to eat them you might ask, I don’t know. I just had to buy something from the Silk Road Bazaar. Yes, I was also persuaded to buy two pieces of vanity mirrors by a smooth talking Uighur merchant: one for your wife, and one for your daughter, he suggested. Personally I think they are very pretty. See them for yourselves.

On the crowded bus leaving the Bazaar, I gave up my seat to an elderly lady. That caught the attention of two local men in their forties, seated at the back of the bus who nodded their approval. The bus was packed with lots of people, some of whom also lugged heavy bulky items with them.

It was time for the two men to alight, and one of them motioned to me to take over his seat. As I was barely seated, one of the alighting men was seen manhandling and verbally abusing a young man, accusing him of pickpocketing. I quickly checked my own pockets. Safe. I’m sure I will know if anyone tried to lift my walletJ I know what you both are thinking! I would deserve it when that happens, right?

Yesterday I witnessed another commotion, right across the Id Kah Mosque. Two men were fighting in the middle of the road, causing a gridlock in rush hour traffic. I wish I had the guts to film it, but thought the better of it. Unfortunately, I must be the only one there who didn’t know what they were fighting about.

Another thing worth mentioning. I saw two sets of twins today, and I am not talking about Copy and Paste. The set I saw on the bus reminds me of Satoshi Sato of Leedon Heights. Decked out in colourful Uighur costume, they have big lolling heads and sleepy eyes, chubby cheeks and a somewhat dumb look. I would have loved to take a picture, but I didn’t dare ask as there were so many people in the bus.

Another pair I saw walking down the street. One was playfully jaywalking, and her father took her aside for a sound spanking. Ha ha! So cute. I wonder if multiple births are more common amongst the Uighurs. I know for a proven fact that it is among the Nigerians.

Tomorrow I leave for the more remote of the Tarim Basin towns, Khotan. It is famous for white jade, carpets and silk. Not to worry, I wont be able to afford any of these.

Bye, and not sure of writing in the next few days.

Dad

Sent: Tue May 26 1255 Beijing Time

Kashgar-Khotan-Korla

Hi girls

I thought I heard a clap of thunder last night but was too sleepy to think too much of it. Thunderstorms in the desert? This morning I woke up to a power failure. I am not sure if it is city wide or only affecting the hotel. I am writing to you on battery power and will send this when the power resumes. Outside it looks dusty and hazy, with very poor visibility. I was told that this is normal in summer and will get much better in the autumn months.

I have not written since leaving Kashgar, so I shall continue from thenceforth.

The bus trip from Kashgar took 11 hrs, along the ancient southern Silk Road. It was worth every minute of the time. As I was early I sat on the front left window seat. My fellow passengers were mainly Uighur peasants travelling to other oasis towns along the way. Although it was a public bus, a group of Han military men seem to treat it like their own. They made the Uighur driver pick up their bulky belongings from their well fortified garrison in Shule outside Kashgar, and drop them off at the gates of their destination outside Khotan. That added more than an hour to the normal journey. I protested to the driver of course but he simply shrugged it off.

Outside the town of Yengisar, famous for their homemade knives, a Han Chinese farmer boarded the bus and sat next to me. He looked much older than his 51 years. He had two heavy sacks with him and I couldn’t resist asking him what they were. He showed off his 10kg bag of freshly dug potatoes which he got for only 2 yuan a kilo. He dug them out himself, he told me proudly. The other sack contained some sort of tuber(木薯) for his rabbits, which he is raising as a source of protein.

We were travelling generally northeast along the southern rim of the Tarim Basin. On the right are the mighty snow capped Kunlun mountains over which is Pakistani Kashmir, and on the left the empty Taklamakan desert, The road condition is quite good, with occasional long stretches under repair. When that happens the girl seated across the aisle from me will start to retch non-stop. Poor girl, she must suffer badly from motion sickness. She’s quite shy but friendly, and can muster a few words in Chinese.

Khotan

At Khotan bus station I booked my cross desert bus ticket for the next day, but not before yelling at the people for jumping queue. They were quite amused and at the same time puzzled by this old man who was gesturing wildly and speaking in a foreign tongue (English). Buying my ticket early ensures a good seat, I thought.

I checked into a decent hotel for one night. It was by far the most expensive for the trip, 228 yuan, about S$50. After a late meal of polo (pilaff) and kawap (kebab) I fell off into a good night’s sleep. No phone calls asking if I wanted a massage, or something more.

The next morning I arranged through Abdullah, the hotel security guard, to get me a cab to take me to 3 places for 100 yuan. Abdul Kadir took me to what was claimed to be the oldest walnut tree in China. Even President Hu Jintao was here, as evidenced by prominently displayed photographs. Another specious claim was that the tree was planted by the Tang dynasty monk Xuan Zang, who was on his way back to Changan via the southern silk road after collecting Buddhist sutras from India.

Next, to see traditional silk production and weaving, of the sort done since ancient times. Here they demonstrated the most primitive means of extracting silk threads from moth weevils. Deya’s mother Soma would be interested. Remember? she wrote a book on handlooms. Last destination was the Khotan River where I wanted to see ordinary people prospecting for jade on the river bed. Abdul Kadir did not understand Chinese, so we ended up just driving alongside the river. He dropped me off at the Bazaar ,100 yuan richer for two and a half hours work, a good day for him. The first driver I tried to engage on my own, a Han Chinese, wanted 150 yuan.

This bazaar is just like any oasis bazaar, except that there is one section where there were a lot of men milling around, with seemingly nothing to buy or sell. As usual I was curious, and let myself lose amongst them. Surreptitiously, they sidled up to me and produced from their pockets and sleeves tiny pieces of so called jade, which they confidentially showed to me, and were willing to part with them from 1800 yuan at first, to a low 300, or even lower. These stones looked pretty, especially the milky white ones (羊脂玉, lamb’s fat jade), but I am sure they are merely stones, as real jade cannot be so cheap. For sure, there are real ones. I just didn’t know the difference.

I hailed a cab back to the hotel just before checkout time. As fate would have it, the driver was the very same Han Chinese driver whose service I declined in the morning. He was from Chongqing, one of those resettled here more than 10 years ago due to the construction of the three gorges dam. He rued the missed opportunity of making easy money that morning!

Back at the hotel Abdullah wanted to treat me to lunch during his one hour lunch break, since I was his honoured guest from Singapore. I graciously accepted, but instead took him to a larger and more expensive (by his standard) ashxana. Here was an opportunity to know a little more of the Uighurs.

Abdullah’s identity card says he is 27, but he is really 25. He had to register as two years older because he wanted to marry. His daughter is now five, and his wife is expecting another child. He was a farmer, working on his father’s land, tilling cotton, wheat and a myriad of fruit trees. Life was hard under the harsh conditions. He knows a little of Uighur history, but not from official sources. He also taught himself Chinese, without which he will not be able to secure his present job as a security guard at this hotel. His monthly salary is 1200 yuan a month, of which 300 goes to rental in the town. Money no enough. I didn’t think he told me his story to get anything out of me. Not at all. They all have the same story anyway. The next time I come to Khotan, he pledged, he will take me to his village and many other interesting places where tourists seldom venture. I said ‘deal’. I like Abdullah because I had observed that he is hardworking, honest and sincere. Before I left I gave him 100 yuan ‘to get something for the children’.

Taklamakan Crossing

In summer the bus leaves for Korla at 1800hrs, a 13 hr journey. My seat was not only a good seat, it was the best seat in the bus, I reckon. It was much like seat 1A, First Class on SIA’s Boeing 747-400. The seat was a reclining lower bunk, looking straight ahead with an unblocked panoramic view of wherever we were headed. For 178 yuan that’s a steal. The entire bus was lain with carpets, and passengers must take off their shoes when getting on. Failing to do so will earn you a barrage of profanities hurled by the bus driver, albeit in unfathomable Uighur-accented Hanyu. There were 4 crew on board, though I noticed only 3 took turns to drive.

To be really honest, the crossing was a letdown, as it was done on a moonless night. By the time we reached the crossing point at Niya it was already pitch dark. Though having a front view seat I couldn’t see much, except that for the entire 400km stretch of desert road there was a line of bushes on both sides. This is to prevent the desert sand from shifting onto the road. I forgot to ask how the bushes manage to survive. Perhaps they were watered once in a few days, like how it was done in the towns. For hours we drove through the mostly straight desert road. I understand that it was designed to curve occasionally to prevent drivers from falling asleep due to the monotony of driving straight continuously. For a desert road I must say that it was pretty busy. I suppose most chose to drive through at night. Here lies the disadvantage of sitting in front. I was constantly awakened by the bright headlights of oncoming traffic, not that I tried very hard to sleep. Before we started our journey it was hot in the early evening. In the desert night the temperature fell into the teens. I might add that I had the honour and pleasure of peeing in the Taklamakan Desert under a clear star studded moonless night. I did not see the reputedly numerous oil rigs, nor did I see any correctional facilities housing political prisoners (the gulags). I was told that prisoners housed here have no desire to escape, as there was nowhere to escape to. My biggest disappointment however is not being able to see the Tarim River as it was still dark. This river is the longest in the Tarim Basin. It rises in the Kunlun mountains and ended ignominously in the sands of the Taklamakan. What a pity, on both counts!

Korla

Here I am now, the second day in this mostly Han city on the northern rim of the Basin. I arrived yesterday morning, without any idea where I was going to spend the night. The taxi driver took me to a decent hotel and I took down his phone number. I had intended to use his services in the afternoon. We negotiated to go to the Hawaii of Xinjiang some distance away. Foolishly I agreed to pay half of whatever the meter read.

I really should have known better. Hawaii of Xinjiang is a grossly exaggerated tag, deliberately coined to con the unwary tourist. It is on the shores of Lake Bosten, one of four huge lakes featured in the pioneer issue of English language edition of Chinese National Geographic. This part of the lake was acquired for tourist development, and turned into another nightmarish spot so typically Chinese..

The lake though is huge, much like a sea, complete with seagulls flying about. It is fed by snow melt of the Tianshan mountains, and is the source of the legendary Peacock River, which flows past the equally legendary lost (and found) city of Loulan. The lake is teeming with fish, of which my driver can readily testify. He used to be a fisherman on these shores for 10 years. He has not the faintest idea that we eat our fish from the oceans.

Meanwhile the meter was ticking away. It was reading more than 550 yuan and ticking away when it suddenly packed up and started from the basic fare again. I had a good hearty laugh, as the agreement with the driver was to pay him half of what the meter read at the end of the trip! You should have seen his face. Anyhow, I paid him 300 yuan for 5 hrs work, quite a fair price for him. Besides I allowed him to pick up two other passengers on our way back, and I saw him taking 20 yuan from them.

Just skyped with Joy and Alvin, but the connection was not too good. Heard that Amanda delivered her baby safely. Give her my regards. She’s such a nice young lady. I will leave now for an ancient Chinese fort 铁门关not too far away. I’m sure it won’t cost me another 300 yuan. Will take bus to Urumqi tomorrow morning and plane to Beijing the next day. Bye,

Dad

Sent: 2005 Beijing Time

Korla

Hi again

I am writing for the second time today. It is quite relaxing for me since I didn’t have to travel any long distances. I went to the old Chinese fort 8 km outside the town for the good part of this afternoon. Finally I managed to actually trudge, on foot, along a short part of the ancient Silk Road between Yenqi and Weili. The guide Ms Liu said that this track through the hills was part of the Middle Silk Road, the other two being the northern and the southern routes. I climbed at least a thousand double steps up one of the nearby hills, and as luck would have it, ran out of battery power for a panoramic photo-shot of the place. It was raining and the wind gusting up to 40 to 50 knots. At times I had to crouch real low to avoid being blown off the barren slopes. Besides the howling wind I could almost hear the tinkling of camel bells. I should be able to sleep well tonight.

Back in town I had lunch at a lamian shop, the same one I went to last night. It was clean, and the noodles comforting. This time the yoghurt tastes just like our sweet lassi. The rain actually washed out a lot of the dust, onto the streets and more visibly, onto the cars and buses. Today’s temperature is a lot lower. I needed a jacket to venture outside.

The town of Korla was actually lesser known than its neighbour Yenqi, which I have read about in ancient records. These days it is getting bigger and richer, growing to be the second largest in Xinjiang after Urumqi. This is because the prospecting for oil and the running of associated installations in the Tarim Basin are based here. It claims to be the best tourist city and also one of ten most liveable cities in China. The Shandong taxi driver I spoke to says that’s all humbug 全是骗人的. I agree wholeheartedly. The riverside promenade is very pretty though. Yesterday, when it was much warmer, I saw quite a few migrant workers stripping off the banks and going for a dip in the cool waters of the Peacock River.

I will be leaving early tomorrow morning. Will write if anything interesting crops up.

Dad

Sent: May 27 1833 Beijing Time

Korla-Urumqi

Hi

Korla

I am now writing from the bus station at Korla. My bus doesn’t leave till more than an hour later. All earlier seats are booked out, and mine is the last of 4. The seat assigned is 44, right to the back, for the 6 hour trip to Urumqi. The announcements here surely beat the record as far as announcements are concerned. They go on and on, first in Chinese, then in Uighur. I marvel at the people who are in charge of these announcements. Besides, no one pays any attention.

There was a minor commotion this morning when I checked out of the hotel. They claimed that a face towel was missing from the room. Of course, you know me. Do you think I’d pay? Instead I demand compensation from them for making me miss my bus schedule. I love these situationsJ One of the girls was very nice about the whole affair, not the other. By the way, I sent my jeans for wash and iron for only 5 yuan. Maybe they washed it in the Peacock RiverJ

As I got off the taxi at the bus station I heard someone call out to me. It was Arkhan, a 23 year old belt-seller I had met two nights before at the Uighur night market. He has greenish eyes, and reminded me of the Afghan woman portrayed in Nat Geo. In fact I saw another Uighur with sparkling blue eyes in Kashgar, an obvious descendant of Alexander. Arkhan speaks a little Chinese, though it takes some getting used to. Last night I had wanted to look for him at the bazaar again, but did not go because it was too cold. It is such an amazing coincidence that we meet again.

Arkhan comes from a small village near Kashgar, from a family of 4 boys. His 2 older brothers are policemen in Kashgar, and his younger brother, the most educated of the lot, has migrated to Kazakhstan.

To remember Arkhan by, I bought a nice leather belt from him, a BOSS, no less. I gave him twice the price he asked for. While waiting in the departure area, he came to me with two pieces of nan and a bottle of Pepsi for my journey. It was so thoughtful of him. I really didn’t want the nan but has not the heart to reject it.

Urumqi

I left my jacket in the taxi and the hotel staff is trying to get in touch with the taxi company. It’s the one we bought together in Shanghai, the light green Armani one. Other than that all’s well. Safely back at Home Inn and getting ready to fly to Beijing early tomorrow morning.

I have listed out my thoughts about my trip to the Tarim Basin:

1. The Uighur people are a very hospitable lot, especially when they know you pose no threat to them, and respect their culture and way of life. I always let them know that I have visited the tomb of Mahmud Kashgari, their famous poet and scholar.

2. They drink their tea using a bowl, and they eat their noodles with chopsticks, which to me looked rather odd.. They eat lots of noodles. The Han Chinese have a peculiar name for their polo, or pilaff rice. They call it 抓饭, which translates to catching rice.

3. The poplar tree interests me. In Chinese it is called 通天杨, and is everywhere in the oases. It started off as a spindly sapling, but grows into a sturdy multipurpose giant. I tried knocking on it, and it felt really hard. The toothpicks made from poplar wood is very very strong, not like ours. I kept some samples.

4. The oases along the way. It must be a welcome sight for the Silk Road travellers in the old days. Out of nowhere appear a green patch. It indicates that there is ground water available. Some of these patches holds only one village, but in this one village there are lots of fruit trees and grape vines. One enduring sight for me is the scene of the peasant-farmer sitting astride his mule cart, with the rest of his family piled on board, and urging the poor clueless donkey on with a whip. This is seen over and over again in the villages along the rim.

5. The dust devils forming in the desert. I saw one up close, whirling anti-clockwise.

6. The babies and the children. You should see their lovely faces.

7. I got to actually walk along the real ancient Silk Road.

8. The mountains in the distance. The Pamirs, the Karakoram or in Chinese, Kunlun mountains and the Heavenly 天山mountains. They are so beautiful in the distance, at the moment very much snowcapped. Over the mountains is Pakistani Kashmir, Afghanistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. I’d like to visit some day.

Now I will list out why you will suffer terribly if you had come:

1. The sun’s harsh rays, the heat and the dust.
2. The long distances travelled. One bus ride took 14 hours.
3. The toilets along the way. Luckily I wore dark glasses into the toilet, just enough light to make sure I don’t fall in. They were abominable..
4. The food. You will starve.

This should conclude my Xinjiang travelogue. Looking forward to making another one of these trips.

Dad

PS: Jacket not found.