Tag Xinjiang

We have been extremely fortunate in who we have come in contact with through Abandon the Cube. We’ve met so many amazing travelers, as well as great writers, photographers and people on amazing missions across the planet. While we’d love to tell you about everyone we meet, there literally isn’t enough space for the high praise we’d want to laud on some of these worthy travelers. Nevertheless, here is a glimpse at two travel writing teams and how they have chosen to spend their lives on the road fighting for a cause.

~

We were recently contacted by two inspired travelers named Bernard and Danielle who have been traveling throughout Africa interviewing local farmers, NGOs, and community groups who are working to alleviate hunger and poverty. They operate a travel blog site called Borderjumpers. Danielle, who is a livestock and sustainability expert, is traveling across the continent for Worldwatch, a USA-based think tank. She talks with farmers about their ongoing projects, their efforts to combat hunger and poverty, and the sustainability of their work. Bernard is an expert on local labor movements and communication, and travels with Danielle helping to discuss important issues with locals in every African country. Their mission is to visit every country in Africa and talk about farming, labor movements and the future with everyone. You can learn more about these travelers by visiting their travel blog. While they are traversing the continent they are uploading blogs when they find internet. We encourage you to check out the duo’s work and link to their site!

~

You might also be extremely interested in learning about Josh, who created and runs Far West China, a travel blog and information site about Xinjiang, China. Xinjiang is a little mentioned area in the world’s most populated country, and one that is distinctly different. A primarily Uyghur, Muslim area, Xinjiang is home to Kashgar, Urumqi and Dunhuang– just a few treasured locations you’ve probably heard of. Josh writes extremely well researched guides to attractions in the area, like his ebook on Turpan. Josh not only keeps up with local news, local travel info and local culture, but he is an active advocate for the Uyghur people. His passion for China’s far west province has landed him an endearing spot in our travel hearts. Check out his blog, check out his site and definitely grab a peek at the newly released ebook.

Traveling is a great way to learn. Every new city visited is a deeper insight into the region’s past and why it developed as it did. We traveled from Shanghai to Seattle by land and sea, and all the while reading. While the books did not always reflect the location we were in, they were insightful in different ways along our journey and helped to paint a more clear picture of the past, and explain why some areas we visited were in poverty and others in plenty. History is the only real explanation for how diverse and varied our species is, and its an amazing story more fascinating than fiction.

COVER

A Peace to End All Peace, by David Fromkin. This telling Pulitzer price book finalist tells of the causes of World War I (on the Eastern front between 1914 and 1922) and how the policies before, during and after the conflict have resulted in the most tumultuous area on the planet– the Middle East. The book begins with a young Winston Churchill visiting the Bosporus and concluding that any army hoping to take the Ottoman Empire would only have to control the Aegean. This thought came to fruition later in Churchill’s life as he sent British troops during WWI up the straights in a failed attempt to destroy the Ottoman Empire and end the war. It is shocking how daringly close the plan came to success. The war rages on and the Ottoman Empire collapses, and is ruled eventually by Ataturk (Mustafa Kemal). They gain in power and reinforce the German’s advances, further prolonging the war on all fronts. Eventually the dust settles to reveal the Central Powers have been defeated, but what is less commonly known is that each government in the Allied Powers Alliance has fallen and their internal opposition parties came to power. Essentially, those who began the war were replaced in all cases except Germany, and the mission and goals of the war changed dramatically as a result of new voices in the arena post fighting. Thus, new faces sat around the table deciding how to divide winnings and the states of Iraq, Iran, Jordan and Lebanon were formed, and the Israeli homeland question was raised. The Allied Powers promised a homeland to the Israelites and set about making it happen, not knowing the cultural and religious currents they would stir in so doing with neighboring Arabs. This book explains the root causes of the Israeli – Palestinian conflict, as well as why modern Turkey is so different from other Muslim countries. This book does not touch on the wars in Iraq (Desert Storm of Operation Iraqi Freedom) or 9/11 or Afghanistan.

Guests of the Ayatollah, by Mark Bowden. This book about the Iran Hostage Crisis read like an adventure novel, but was in fact very well researched. Bowden interviewed countless survivors, read everything he could get his hands on about the Iranian student’s movements, and fully explains the reasons why Muslims dislike Americans. For an American, this book is almost a must-read simply because Bowden is able to get inside the minds of the students who took the American Embassy hostage, and reveals their motives, desires and, years later, what happened to these children. His subtitle is: “The First Battle in the West’s War with Militant Islam,” and Bowden explains why the hostage crisis was a precursor to events that transpired later between the Muslims and the West, and why westerners often fail to fully grasp the rationale and motivations of those militant Muslims in places like Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan.

These are just two examples. Other historical books we’ve read and would happily and confidently recommend to any history or travel buff are : Foreign Devils on the Silk Road, by Peter Hopkirk; Afghanistan, by Stephen Tanner; and Charlie Wilson’s War, by George Crile. If it seems all these books represent a trend, then you are an astute reader my friend. We’ve been traveling through predominately Muslim countries, and our books of choice reflect a desire to better understand the historical context of our culture clashes. We are historians, so naturally our interest in understanding the present lead us to the past. At any rate, all of these books were also page-turners that we think almost anyone could easily enjoy.

Yarkand Blacksmith in Old Town

Although our time was limited, I did not want to leave out our day trip from Kashgar to Yarkand. Albeit a late entry, Yarkand was a significant city and part of the southern silk road pass around the Taklimakan desert. We purchased tickets at the long distance bus station in Kashgar for the 3 1/2 hour ride to Yarkand on the outskirts of the Taklimakan Desert. This bus drove around Kashgar for over an hour looking for people for the one-way trip through the scorching desert basin between Kashgar and Yarkand. Rumbling along while listening to Chinese and Uyghur songs on repeat, we were surprised to see that the railroad was being extended from Kashgar to Yarkand. Migrant workers were digging up the desert in preparation for laying the rails.

I checked Marco Polo’s description of Yarkand and it was, like several other entries…brief. The most memorable statement he noted about Yarkand was that he was surprised by the large population suffering from goiter (a swelling of the Thyroid caused by a lack of iodine in the diet). I did not notice any issues several hundred years later as surprisingly, Yarkand looks similar to other modernized Chinese cities. As we pulled into the bus station, I was hoping to see rolling sand dunes and bazaars, but was disappointed as I saw paved roads and cars. Instead, Yarkhand was a moderately well-developed Chinese city. More than half of the population was Han Chinese and there was a large PLA (People’s Liberation Army) base in the North central part of town.

Yarkand can easily be seen in about one day. The gem of the city is the central mosque, which is located right next to the Old Town. There was more starring going on here than other places we had been recently and it was not surprising that these people didn’t see too many foreigners coming through. After seeing the parts of Old Town in Kashgar destroyed, it was refreshing to see that it will live on in Yarkand. Around the corner from the Mosque, there was a thriving Old Town bazaar. One can see rows of blacksmiths fashioning metal tools, furniture, birdhouses, and a variety of goods; most of this done in a way similar to several hundred years ago. Not much has changed since in this part of town.

Our return bus ride somehow took 5 hours, making it a pretty long day trip, but I would highly recommend going to Yarkand – especially if you appreciate the bazaar and the Old Town of Kashgar. Maybe one day we will return and cross the entire southern route of the Silk Road around the Taklamakan. Perhaps we may return through Kyrgyzstan or Tajikistan.

Lamb kebabs – Urumqi, Xinjiang. Urumqi has an amazing night market near the park with beer, kebabs, nan, plov and other Central Asian treats.

Pizza – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. There is a locally owned Pizza cafe called Bistro in Tashkent with amazing pizza, good beer and outdoor seating.

Coffee – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This is on the list at everyone else’s request as I don’t drink coffee. Cafe Jum is the best spot in Central Asia for an espresso.

Spiced Tea – Kashgar, Xinjiang. We ran into a man mixing tea in buckets by the mosque in Old Town. Amazing spices and knock-you-out tea.

Nan – Almaty, Kazakhstan. This is, by far, the best bread I’ve ever head, and it is totally different from Xinjiang nan.

Battered califlower – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Steamed, and then battered and fried. Creative and savory.

Fatush – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This Lebbonese salad is a mix of tomato, califlower, tortilla and vinigar. Amazing.

Donar Kebab – Almaty, Kazakhstan. The best donar this side of the Tian Shan.

Goat milk yoghurt – Kashgar, Xinjiang. Mixed with sugar and served ice cold.

A Hospital

Having decided months ago to avoid going through Kyrgyzstan because of reported troubles foreigners were having at the Chinese-Kyrgyz border, we found ourselves last week in Kashgar. We took a two day trip out to Tashkurgan on the Tajik-China border which was apparently equidistance from Kashgar as the Kyrgz-China pass. We met two travelers from Australia (“Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oui, Oiu, Oui!”) who had already attempted the crossing once only to find the pass closed without explanation from either side. They tried again the next day and we never saw or heard from them again, which probably means they are in Kyrgyzstan. We have heard rumors across the traveling community that it is a difficult move to make, with a pick-up required at the border by a certified Bishkek or Osh agency. We decided while still in Shanghai to avoid the headache and simply backtrack. It was not until we got to Xinjiang that we realized the backtrack was over 24 hours in length and requiring a great deal more money that was amusing, as well as a bit more irony and, once again, we would find ourselves waiting in Urumqi (as we did for a week in 2006).

Having spent our last day in Kashgar walking around Old Town and then enjoying a fine dining experience at Fubar, our favorite home-away-from home in Kashgar, we hopped the daily 3:20 to Urumqi, an overnighter that lands in Urumqi at 3:30 exactly. Our train was running two hours early so they pulled off the tracks for two hours to arrive on time. Very efficient!

Back in Urumqi, we easily acquired tickets for the train on the evening of the 16^th. We were incredibly lucky. We bought a 3 day transit visa through Kazakhstan from the 17^th to the 20^th. Our midnight train put us at the Kazakh border at exactly 9am on the 17^th, we could not have planned it better if we had actually, ya know- bothered to plan.

In Urumqi between the 14^th and the 16^th we spent a peaceful and quiet few days in one of our favorite cities walking around the parks, eating local cuisine and relaxing at the hostel. On the 14^th we went, with a friend from the hostel, to the Uyghur Wuyi Night Market. We arrived a bit early and watched as everyone set up their mini stalls. A sudden and severe flash storm swept through the market, causing customers to hide in nearby stores (as we did) and vendors to pack up their raw meat and head home. The next evening, the 15^th, we went back to see what the market was like without lightening and terror and had a lovely meal of lamb, nan (bread), and kabab veggies. The 16^th rolled around quickly, and we packed and headed for our train eagerly awaiting our trip to Kazakhstan and our border crossing.

Yurt on Lake Karakul

Sleeping at around 3500 meters was an interesting, if not involved exercise. The Kyrgyz woman bundled blankets and furs together to create makeshift bedrolls for us. The weight of the blankets was so much, it made it difficult to breath in the high altitude. We fell asleep to the soft flicker and glow of the dung-burning stove used for heat and cooking. The next morning, a rugged looking Kyrgyz man opened the wooden door to the yurt and was followed by a huge gust of mountain air. Standing at about 5’5’’, the man wore a leather jacket , a warm looking brown Russian style fur hat, and big black boots. With a half smile on his face, he clapped his hands, signaling it was time to wake up.

I crawled literally, under the weight, out of bed to put on my shoes and fleece, and then walked down to Lake Karakul. The water was a dark blue grayish color with areas of light blue from the phosphorous I assume – and hope. I knelled down next to the bank and stuck my hands in the water, then washed my face. The water was so cold I had never been so awake in my entire life. After returning to the yurt, we ate a quick meal of noodles and yak meat then got in the jeep and left for the day.

The jeep sped down the Karakorum Highway, passing several locals selling colored rocks they had supposedly found in the lake. As we rode for a few hours, we found ourselves in a narrow valley between two mountain ranges. Occasionally, these resembled rock canyons one may find in the Southwestern United States. At other times, massive jagged snow covered peaks jutted up into the sky resembling nothing I had ever seen…or probably ever will again. At two points during the drive, we saw massive green valleys between the mountains that looked like scenery from a fairy tale.

After about 3 hours from Lake Karakul, we arrived in the town of Tashkurgan. Tashkurgan is located in far Western China’s XinJiang Provence and borders Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and is very close to Pakistan. As we pulled into town, the Pamir Mountains (Pamirs) rose beautifully into the sky. Village women, mostly Tajik, walked around town in beautifully colored clothing and the men were dressed like shipyard workers from the 1930’s U.S. It was an amazing scene that was unlike any other parts of China I had ever seen – probably because other than the highway leading there and the electricity that came with it, it was entirely not Chinese.

This morning, after a bout of food poisoning which rendered us useless and hostel-bound yesterday, we decided to check out the famous Kashgar Sunday Market. According to our hostel owner/Kashgar guru the Sunday Market swells the city’s population by 50,000 people once a week. This morning, however, was a different story because of a freakishly random and intense rain storm which flooded part of the city and overturned potted plants and rattled the fragile wooden shutters.

We took the number 8 bus from the Old Town Mosque to the last stop on the line, which was 200m from the market…. across a giant puddle the size of one of the Great Lakes. After skirting the giant flooded road (effectively covering my black pants in yellowish-brown mud and clay) we found the Sunday market partially deserted. Apparently the rain and flooding was enough to scare away many an eager merchant.

The folks who did turn up were mostly selling livestock. We found a certain breed of sheep quite foreign to us, and a bit bizarre. The sheep had human-looking butts, no joke. They were pink, plump, and hanging off of the body of the sheep where a tail should be, almost like baboon butts. Buyers were inspecting the sheep’s teeth, utters, and then lifting and groping the plumpness of the sheep’s hind quarters, which were substantial.

Walking past the bizarre-butt sheep I nearly fell when my foot slipped on something atop the mud and water. I looked down and gasped to discover I had stepped on a goat’s ear that was attached to a goat’s head, but that is where the attachments ended- there was simply a pile of goat heads on the ground and I had managed, somehow, to step on it.

After jumping goat-ear-foot first into a puddle to rinse my shoes of the goat’s blood I turned to find Mike peering through a gateway into a giant field of mud and poo that was sectioned off into stalls where, on one side people were selling baked goods and spices and on the other selling big-butt sheep, goats and cattle. Strangely enough, amid the swine flu, there was an entire truck loaded down with large, pink pigs. Swine flu paranoia is at its height in Kashgar, with one French resident of our hostel having been forcefully quarantined at the local hospital for having a fever.

After slipping on severed head and watching people grope sheep butt we

decided it was time to eat. Still a bit quasy from the food poisoning (and raw meat and heads lying about) we decided to head to the only western place in town, the Fubar Cafe. We arrived and instantly felt like we were back in the states, a pool table was the center piece of this establishment, with a wall of board games, a bar and several menus that made my mouth water. We pulled out the risk game where we proceeded to play 5 full games (we were there about five full hours as well, as a result) while eating pizza and hamburgers and drinking captain cokes. When you are away from your homeland’s food and feeling ill, there is nothing quite as satisfying as something recognizable.

We spent the rest of the evening and well into the night walking around Old Town bazaars and getting lost (intentionally) in the old back alleys. The Old Town section of Kashgar is fading quickly, with some recent reports indicating that a full 2/3rds of the area has been leveled in the last two weeks. There is destruction all around us and I honestly think this place will be gone within the next two years, if not sooner. It is one of the nicest and most lively neighborhoods I’ve ever seen, and that makes this a real shame.

In central Old Town there rests an ancient mosque (build in 1442) that has been repaired countless times and currently remains one of the largest active mosques in China. We decided to take a peek at this ancient relic of religion.

After walking around a bit in the late afternoon on our way to the mosque we encountered a very lively group of men and women huddled around a man selling tea. The various herbs and spices were laid out in small silver bowls surrounding the man’s feet and he chanted about the health benefits of each herb as he poured small amounts of each into newspaper. He mixed the herbs and flowers and spices together and sold a bag the size of a softball for 5Rmb. We watched, amazed, for about ten minutes before I was convinced (though I understand no Uyghur) of the health benefits. We bought a bag at once before setting off to the mosque.

The mosque itself is open to everyone, though there was not a single other woman inside. All foreigners have to pay 20Rmb to see inside, so we dished out some coin before we were allowed past the first set of guards. I was intimidated by the openness inside the mosque walls. The interior was a large garden with several praying rooms, all facing East. We walked to the most eastern wall where there was a rug from 1570 hanging on the wall and a small throne with a Koran and clocks that showed the time on every continent (for call to prayer). There were other items as well, but I’m not sure what they were for. It was five to five in the afternoon when a man with a heavy beard and dark eyes motioned to us and ushered us into the garden where a mass of people had gathered. Everyone looked at my uncovered head (I had forgotten my scarf) and at my legs, which were in pants and not the required skirt that is customary in Kashgarian women. I felt embarrassed, but I’m not sure why now that I look back. Several very old men approached me and looked at my eyes, hair and legs before walking past and talking quietly with their companions. I was too shy to take any pictures of a place of worship so Mike had been walking around with the camera. It was something I’ve always wanted to see and experience, but if you plan on doing likewise don’t forget your head wrap or else be prepared for stares!

karakul

Lake Karakul, situated along the breathtaking Tian Shan Tajik-China border, is one of the most stunning and awe-inspiring spots on the whole of the planet. Standing in absolute silence atop a hill looking over Lake Karakul one is struck by how startling silence can be in the face of such massive and absolute mountain peaks, a turquoise lake surrounded by sand dunes and not a soul or creature in sight.

But getting to the lake required a near torturous traverse of the mighty mountain range. After finally falling asleep the night before at 3am, we awoke at 8am to meet our guide. Our guide was a Uyghur man who spoke fluent Mandarin; he smoked like a chimney, smells of bai jiu (liquor) and when he opened his mouth at least a few curses stumbled out before any nouns or verbs. We had heard that there was a driver with a 4X4 who had two people going to Lake Karakul and if we jumped on board we’d get a discount. We agreed the night before to 300RMB for the entire two day trip. The guide grabbed our bags and told us to load up. When we reached the Jeep, we found a Chinese couple already situated inside. Climbing in, we introduced ourselves and the lady responded with, “what do Americans think of Tibet?” Not wanting to get into a diatribe that early in the morning, I politely responded that most Americans, ourselves included, had not been there so we could not accurately form an opinion until after we had. She wrinkled her nose and launched into the most long-winded Tibet-bashing session I’ve ever listened to. She explained that the warm-hearted Chinese kindly donated their tax money so the Tibetans did not have to have jobs, they just laid in the sun all day and practiced their selfish (because you personally strive for Nirvana) religion. She went on and on about how lazy Tibetans are and then, in a shocking turn of events, she said that if the Dali Lama were to come back to China, “the Tibetans would be as if Negros.” I thought I misheard, so I asked her to repeat that last part and she said, “you know, like in America, the Negro.” The man in the back seat turned red and said, “I think she means ‘slave’.” So, I told her I would visit and make my own opinions about the region and then turned to stare, shocked, at Mike.

The man in the back seat, a pull-down jumper seat, was named Jason, a Chinese former cell phone company CEO. He was decked out in survival gear from head to two, all of which was brand new (his scarf still had the price tag). He was very friendly and spoke fluently in English and Mandarin.

Thus situated, we set off towards the Lake. The guide, in a fit of curses and Uyghur, screeched off the road after having stopped twice within the first hour to buy food, and ran into a field, disappearing into the bush. A few moment later he sprinted out of the grass and we screeched, going 60, into open traffic. He laughed and opened his pockets and passed out tiny green fruits that proved to be sour, tart and spicy all at once.

After several hours of bumping along we pulled off the road to the Kyrgyz Glacier Retreat, where, for 50RMB, we were obliged to hike a mile up the side of a hill to view a dying glacier. The glacier was pitch black, having accumulated dirt and rocks as it pushed its way down the mountain.

Back in the car hours later we continued down the winding, bolder-covered road until we came to a massive valley surrounded by snow-topped peaks. A single stream cut through the valley, attracting sheep, goats, camels and wild horses. We stopped to stare in awe for several moments before the driver began cursing and urging us good-naturedly on our way.

By 5:00pm we rounded a curve in the road and Lake Karakul came into view. Pulling off the road we stopped at a small Kyrgyz yurt camp where one family owned several yurts which they rented to passers-by. We paid 50RMB a night, which included dinner and breakfast. The wife was a friendly-eyed woman of 40 who looked 60. She was never still for a moment as she busied herself with cooking, knitting, cleaning or tending to th yaks, children, dogs, guests and her husband. The husband, also appearing to be in his 60s, was hospitable and friendly, and immediately showed us his small black and white TV – obviously something he was very proud of. He also pointed at the wooden ceiling to show us he had recently acquired electricity. His daughter, around 9 years old, keenly watched my every move. When I sat cross-legged on the rugged floor she copied my posture, when I drank tea holding the cup with two hands, she followed suit. Their two sons, about 4 and 2, were outside the yurt playing with two puppies. Meanwhile, the husband’s father was walking aimlessly around the lake, stopping frequently to watch a hawk or pet a camel – he was well into his 90s, if not older.

Wife made us a nice dinner or plov (rice, yak and apricots) with yak milk tea and nan (bread). We eat heartily, having not eaten since the morning. Wife then laid five sets of blankets on the floor for us and indicated that it was now time for sleep. We all crawled into our makeshift piles of blankets and, after listening to a donkey braw for sevel hours, fell calmly and serenly to sleep listening to the waves of Lake Karakul.

Kashgar

We arrived in Urumqi, Xinjiang,at exactly 4:10pm today (right on time) after a 48 hour train ride across China. From here we have purchased tickets to Kashgar for tomorrow at noon, and will arrive in the city around noon the next day (24 hour train through the Taklamakan Desert). From there we have no plan, but need to be in Kazakhstan between the 17th – 20th. We hope to spend quite a bit of the next 15 days in and around Kashgar where Mike hopes to get the famous dry-shave that Tim to heartily recommended.

The train ride was an amazing experience, and one of the best train rides we’ve ever taken. A Uyghur man and his wife were in the bunk below us and the man proceeded to play his violin into the evening as a small community of Uyghurs gathered in our car to sing along, suggest songs, and listen. The man, upon hearing we were American, played some Western songs for us, including Wagner and Gershwin.  We were fortunate to be in such a great car for such a long trip. On previous journeys we have had crying babies or spitting businessmen on their cell phones well into the night. A small boy was on the train with us and he did not cry the entire trip (as I would have done at age 2). Instead, he ran around the car making friends with everyone and sitting on every lap in the car. At one point he defecatedin the only sink in our car, but his mother lovingly fixed the problem with her only towel….which she then washed in the sink and used to bathe the child. At any rate, he was a happy boy and he cheered up the long trip.

Urumqi is as we remember it – a cosmopolitan city bustling with movement. It seems everyone here has luggage and is on the move. We have only this evening to spend in the city, so will head back to the Uyghur night market. Having spent ten days in this city in 2006 I am not upset that we cannot spend longer now, but it is a lovely place.

Of minor inconvenience, my original backpack broke on day one of the trip. I replaced the bag in Shanghai with another that broke this afternoon. The damage is not total, and because I am my father’s daughter I had enough rope and caribineers to fix the problem.

We have my guitar along on the trip, and I hope to improve quite a bit as we travel. Tonight we’re re-stringing the guitar with nylon strings so I can really learn the Spanish guitar songs I love so much. Watch out Gypsy Kings!