Archives May 2009

Soviet Chair Lift

We left mid morning for the lake, in Tashkent province, about an hour and a half north-east of the capital. The drive was peaceful and from the SUV we watched women sell their morning’s fruit harvest as old men and boys continued harvesting behind them in the fields. We passed through several small towns with large cathedrals, mosques and an abundance of butcher shops (comically called a ‘go-shit’ in Russian).

The protected area includes a lake at the center surrounded by rolling green hills with mountains in the distance. The lake was created when the river, which originates in Kyrgyzstan, was dammed. Thousands of people live in the area selling their harvests or living off the small tourism industry.

On the winding roads through the park we were occasionally surprised as children (average age of about eight) would jump out of the tall grass surrounding the road to wave purple and yellow bouquets of wild flowers at the car. At several large bends in the road women had congregated to sell their goods, and it was at once such bend that we found a young businesswomen selling burnt-sugar peanuts. These were easily the best snack I’ve ever had and she was the best bargainer I’ve ever encountered.

We stopped the car often to jump out and admire the view, which changed so drastically with ever turn in the road that it was almost like a new drive began every few minutes. Finally, after my eyes were so overloaded with beauty and newness that they felt strained, we pulled off the road to an old Soviet-era chairlift that went up the side of a large hill and into the snowy mountains. It was ill maintained but functional, and as we watched for several minutes not one car detached itself and fell to the jagged rocks below.

We went through the cattle wire to the ticket booth and bought a ticket each for about 2USD round trip. The chair lift was set up as a two-seater deal where it was obvious that each seat on the contraption had been replaced or reattached at some point or another. My chair set, for example, had one blue chair with no arm rest and one yellow one with rust discoloration. Under the chair, before one did a quick prayer and sat in the lift, there was painted two sets of footprints, the one on the inside larger than that of the outside. I sat on the outside, as I’m smaller, and when I sat down the chair swung in towards oncoming traffic- aka, those who had made it up and were now death-gripping their chairs on the way down. As the chair lifted off (not so gracefully, I might add) the chair attendant gave a surprised but jolly wave and cheer. The lift took around ten minutes from bottom to top, and as I am writing this I obviously lived through the adventure. At the top a large burley man who smelled of beer and lamb pulled me from the chair so forcefully my feet didn’t touch the ground until he let go well out of striking range of the pendulum-like chair. The attendant and his friend/co-worker/man drinking in the corner laughed at each other when they saw our petrified smiles.

The summit was beautiful and well worth the harrowing ride. Within seconds of summiting it began to snow and I donned my fleece and scarf. Previous pilgrims who had survived the Soviet chair lift had ripped pieces of fabric from their shirts and, with a prayer of thanks, tied the fabric to the fence at the summit. I felt compelled to do likewise but decided not to tempt fate- I’d tie on a thank-you at the base once I’d made it safely back down. Mama didn’t raise no fool!

After a tour of the summit we descended (much less terrifying) and drove down the hill a ways. From the summit we had seen a plane which, from our vantage point, looked to have crashed nearby. We drove down a bumpy dirt road to find the plane, which turned out to be an Aeroflot (I’ve always felt they were an unsafe fleet) plane surrounded by weeds and trees but guarded by a house and warehouse nearby. I still have no idea what the plane was there for, or, more puzzlingly, how it arrived in that position. It sure did not land there, and it could not have driven down the bumpy road.

We then drove to the lake where we walked down and stuck a toe or finger each into the icy water. We discovered a floating rock, which I stabbed with my knife to discover was actually a floating piece of filthy bread. We drove around the lake and stopped again at a high point before the dam, overlooking the entire lake and beyond. We climbed up into the rocks and gazed out at the truly beautiful green hills, jagged mountains and herds of goats, cheep, donkey and cows.

Driving now above the dam we stopped at a small café called the Golden Deer in Russian. We parked and sat in a local-style booth. No sooner had we sat down than every man, woman and child in the restaurant and outdoor café ran into the street to watch two young men drag race their cars up and down the strip of curved road where everyone had parked their cars. The boys peeled out, gained speed then slammed on the brake and e-braked as they threw the wheel into a firm 180. The crowd cheered them on while we sat in our outdoor booth wondering if they would smash into our car. This went on for half an hour. Meanwhile, we had ordered two Big Macs, which were on the menu in Cyrillic. How they heard of a Big Mac out there is beyond me. It was a double-decker hamburger with mayo. Copyright laws need not apply. This was also the site of several scenes which caused me to utter sentences that should not be said aloud, including, “That man is combing his stomach hair” and “Now he is playing with his mullet.”

Back in the car we drove around the dam (surrounded by guards) before heading back to the capital. It had been an adventurous, harrowing, peaceful and puzzling trip into the Tashkent countryside.

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.

1. A marijuana plant growing on the side of the road in Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

Uzbek lake

2. Multiple people on the train shaking the border guards hands full of money to avoid having their bags searched in Kazakhstan.

3. Illegal money traders on every train in every country so far.

4. Kazakh guards patting Mike down for money, official theft.

5. Elderly man on Kazakh train with drugs taped to his stomach.

Honorable mentions:

6. Everyone driving in Central Asia is breaking a multitude of laws every second on the road.

7. Kazakh woman transporting goods illegal from China using our train cabin.

8. Racing cars down a public road in Uzbekistan, using the e-brake to pull 180s.

Naturally, some of you are wondering how we can afford to be unemployed and yet pay for train tickets all over the continent. Here is how I afford my share of the travel expenses. Mike has saved for over a year to pay for his half while I saved less and am working from the road.

I have one writing contract, which I acquired in the summer of 2008, which pays around $500USD a month. I have a good working relationship for the company, and because of my tenure with them, and because I turn in assignments on time and with additional features, I am confident the relationship will continue indefinitely. However, I have a contract which stipulates a one month notice should they terminate, giving me one month to find another contract should this one expire.

I also do a bit of travel writing for an online travel and trip planning company. I work on an assignment basis which produces an average of $150USD an assignment (roughly every other month). More importantly, this is a link for me to build new contacts and a gateway to future contracts.

I have also been writing, on a by-article basis for an online magazine, which pays a confidential amount per article and is based in Thailand. My relationship with this company is great, and they love that some of their writers are also on-the-road travelers.

In addition to this, I am a frequent visitor to various online writer’s boards where companies pay by the article or by the word for content on various topics. Because of competition and constant undercutting, many writers do not get paid as well as I do. I work to cultivate working relationships with people at each company to ensure my stability with them, but also because a writer is more than the content they produce.

In addition to the above, between March – April of this year I earned a 100 hour TOFEL certificate which will enable me to teach in any country in the world for profit. Should we run into financial troubles or decide to settle in a place for a while, this will be an additional source of income.

Thus, while I am not making a fortune right now, I am breaking even and traveling the world, which is more than I could have asked for. I do have some University loans that cost me about $200 USD per month to maintain, but I put away savings expressly for this purpose beginning in early 2008 so that I would not have to worry about my loans until the summer of 2010.

After sleeping in the Almaty-1 train station we boarded our first Kazakh train at 5:12am bound for Tashkent, Uzbekistan. The train arrived a bit early and no one knew which car or cabin we were meant to be in, and in our limited (ok, non-existent) Russian we had a bit of trouble finding our births. Once situated in car number 9 we discovered we were meant to be in bunks 13 and 16. A very old, very sickly man who was thinner than a pencil and paler than paper was sleeping fitfully in my bunk while a giant, fecal-covered bag was resting on Mike’s bunk. The train attendant/scariest looking man on the planet approached us and heaved the heavy bag up over his head and threw it atop the birth above ours and ordered us up into two bunks. He came back five minutes later and demanded 700T from us to buy sheets for the bunks. I doubt anyone else paid but seeing as he was the largest shirtless Russian we’d ever seen we forked over the money (we later learned everyone did indeed pay for their sheets).

I’ll pause here to describe the train. Once in car 9 we were met with the most pungent aroma of vomit, human sweat, excrement and burnt hair. The smell was so string it made the skin around my eyes itch. The interior was paneled in fake wooden siding with bunks 2 high with a third bunk for baggage. Nowhere were there safety rails or hand grips. The tiny isle held additional bunks which doubled as benches. The bathroom was a tiny room with a stainless steel western toilet that was so stained and textured from years of use that it looked like a rusty old ship port hole.

Somehow, and probably because we had not really slept in the train station the night before, we fell asleep in our tiny bunks (so thin in width that you had to lay on your side or you’d roll onto the floor and get hepatitis. Throughout the night we made long stops in the middle of nowhere, literally the train would stop in a field and then, at random, take off again. By 8am the lights were flicked on and we rolled into a station for a brief stop only to discover that we had only gone about 20 miles down the tracks. Amazed, Mike set off to ask someone when we arrived in Tashkent. We had heard that it was a 12 hour ride, but that turned out only to have been true several years ago. Instead of arriving 12 hours later at 5pm we found out we would arrive 24 hours later at 4am the next day. We had no food, only a little bit of money in Tenge and the smell of vomit was making us nauseous.

Around late morning we made a stop and watched as everyone looking out the window panicked and dashed into their bunks. Even the sick old man pretended to be asleep. Several guards in elaborate uniforms got on board and talked briefly with the giant train attendant/giant before marching straight up to us. “Passport! Declaration.” We showed him our passports and he forcibly took mine out of my death grip on it and rushed down the isle. We could not both chase after him and leave all our bags, so Mike followed him. What ensued turns out to be a common occurrence on Kazakh trains. The man took Mike into the giant’s cabin and closed the door. He then patted Mike down and took all the money in his pockets, which turned out to be about $2 USD. Luckily the bribe-seeking Kazakh did not find the money belt containing hundreds of RMB. Mike took the event in stride and laughed about what a crappy bribe the guy got away with as he snatched my passport back from the cop and quickly returned to our cabin. From there after, at every stop we would watch for guards and, if we spotted any, we jumped into our bunks like everyone else and pretended to be asleep.

Around 10pm the giant (he had acquired a shirt now, but had it unbuttoned) gave us declaration forms. He found a translator who asked us if we had any money, any at all. Obviously after the bribe incident we lied and said no. This turned out to be a brilliant idea. They said we had to write something so we listed the guitar and computer (after he asked several times if we had one). We later found out the “translator” was a guard who was trying to get close to us to find out how much money we had left, as well as what other valuables.

When we approached the border of Uzbekistan, Kazakh officials border the train and again asked if we had money. Again we said we didn’t. Having not slept or eaten in almost 24 hours our sense of humor was weaning. They made us open our bags (but did not notice three of our 5 bags so did not search them and only ended up looking in the most boring bag full of clothing). They did a swine flu check and inquired again if we had any money or valuables. We kept saying no, insisting that we were planning on using our credit card (I had a deactivated card to show them just in case they stole the card). After a ridiculously long search of everyone’s bags on the train minus those of ours hidden on the top bunk, we saw a young Russian boy of about 17 taken into the back room and frisked. He lost several hundred T. We saw another man walk right up to the Kazakh guard and put a wad of bills into his hand and then point at his bag and walk away. The guards did not search his bag. We saw the old man from our bunk hide a box under his bunk and a boy of about 20 kick a black bag out of site while being searched. As we rolled away from the Kazakh border I had the feeling that everyone was transporting something illegal except us.

Fifteen minutes later it was 4am and we were rolling into the Uzbek guard station. The people on the train seemed less stressed and said the Uzbeks were not as hard to get through. Everyone stashed their secret packages and the old man revealed, mid-stretch, that he had stuff taped across his entire midriff. The Uzbeks had a nurse come take our temperatures and check our passports while a drug dog went around and terrified everyone. This was the first drug dog of the trip. The Uzbeks were friendly and efficient but again only searched one of our bags. They took no bribes and did not intimidate anyone. After we rolled away from the border we arrived in Tashkent thirty minutes later.

Zoom!

The Statistics Are In
7 Cities
4 Trains
3 Countries
2 Buses
2 broken backpacks
1 Car
$ 464 USD Per person (3,175 RMB)*
11,896 miles
Shanghai to Tashkent
Twenty days

*20 Days of normal living in Shanghai = 3,573 RMB ($523 USD)

Cathederal

We arrived in Almaty, the former capital of Kazakhstan, at 6:00am after 36 hours on the train. We immediately realized how screwed we were when we tried to buy train tickets to Tashkent for the next day using charades, smiles and Pictionary-like drawings. We both studied Russian for the month before we left, and discovered that knowing how to ask someone’s name and where they are from is useless and unpractical, albeit friendly. Finally, I figured out that there was a train, from another nearby station, leaving at 5:12am the next day. I promptly bought two tickets for 12,000Tenge after speedily changing my RMB into Tenge at a nearby counter using a similar method of charades and Pictionary.
From the train station, we hopped in the back of someone’s car for 400T to So Young’s Youth Hostel. It was hardly 8:30am, but So Young was awake and set about making a nice breakfast of fresh peppers, bread, popcorn and tea. A New Zealander woke up and joined us, and a bit later a boy from Holland joined in. We discussed everyone’s travel plans and how So Young, a S. Korean native, had ended up in Almaty (logistics expert for rail transport).
While we have many legitimate gripes with The Lonely Planet guidebooks, the section on Almaty was decent and set up an 8k ‘walking tour’ through the key spots in the city. We decided to add ‘buy Russian phrase book’ to our to-do list for the day. We walked all around the city in honest awe of the cleanliness, greenery, modernity and friendliness of the city and debated settling here for 6 months or so to learn Russian in a comfortable and interesting metropolis. This is still a possibility, although we would also like to see what Uzbekistan has to offer.
We had a fine 6USD lunch at a bier garten and then walked to the city bazaar and mosque, as well as an old cathedral in the middle of Pavlov park. We walked to the cable car, but decided not to take it to the top because of impending rain clouds. An hour later it poured so ferociously that the streets soon filled with water. We ducked, quickly, into the town’s biggest expat bar in an attempt to meet a few locals to hear what they think of living in the city- but the bar was deserted. Dashing through the rain, we reached So Young’s and settled in for some quality time with the other travelers and So Young, and a nice evening prepping for our border crossing tomorrow and uploading pictures.
More from Uzbekistan soon to follow.

Top Five Things I Wish We’d Brought

Almaty

• More carabineers. So far, carabineers and rope have been two of the most useful items in my pack. On the 48 hour train we needed the rope to secure the guitar to my travel pack, I locked it in place with two of the carabineers. I used a third carabineer to lock the food bag to my pack. All of the carabineers are also lockable, so everything is secure and safe. If we had another rope and a few more carabineers I would have used the rope on the top bunk to construct a mini table to preserve space and to set the laptop on. Laugh all you want, but when you are confined to a bed that is only one foot wide adding a tiny rope table to put your bag on would make you smile from ear to ear!
• Face-soap. One of the most irritating things about getting ready for bed on a moving train is that it is hard to get out soap and wash your face because there is no where to put the soap down without losing it via slippage or getting it filthy. I wish I had brought some of those individually wrapped, pre-moistened face washing cloths that you can toss afterwards.
• Video-recorder. While this is bulky and we are already traveling with an excess of electronics, it would be nice to capture the absolute silence of Lake Karakul, or the breathtaking majesty of the Tian Shan Mountains.
• Lens-cleaner. Dust storms, sand storms, rain, hail, smoke and smog have all induced my camera lens into looking like a streaky, splotchy mess. The same goes for my glasses and sunglasses, and for Mike’s laptop screen.
• Less stuff. Our bags are too heavy and there are items in our bags we don’t actually need. We’ll be leaving a large portion of our stuff in Turkmenistan once we arrive.
Top five most useful things we brought
• Pillow. I am so happy I brought my pillow. I store it, when moving, in a compression bag so that it takes up very little space. Its made me so much more comfortable.
• Head scarf. Every woman on the train who isn’t Chinese is wearing one. I put mine on and it feels amazing, it holds my hair out of my face and keeps it untangled. Its also nice because it has stopped some of the staring.
• Laptop. While it adds extra weight, it is a real luxury to have a laptop along to get work done and also keep blogging and journaling. I discovered that I write very slowly by hand.
• Compression bags. While it makes for more space (and hence more weight in the bag) its great to be able to break down one weeks of clothing into a bag the size of a shoe box.
• Vitamins. We packed at least 1/8th of our bags with vitamins and medicine and already I’m glad we have the vitamins as the only food on the train is unhealthy and oily.

We took the 11:58pm train from Urumqi to Almaty, a 36 hour adventure across the Chinese border to Kazakhstan. Arriving early (as is my custom) we waiting outside a bit before being allowed into the terminal. You can only bring 36kg on board the train, and everyone’s bags were weighed, X-rayed and probed at the station. Once on board (car 5, room 6, bunks 23 and 24) we discovered that this was the nicest train we’d ever been on in China. The bunks actually left enough room for you to sit up straight and the hooks were facing up, instead of down and the toilet actually flushed! We fell asleep almost immediately and slept well because the rooms have doors (another improvement)!

At 7:00am I awoke knowing I should get up before we got to the border. I must have fallen back asleep because promptly at 9:00am a Chinese military official swung open the door to our room and motioned me off my bed. Thirty seconds later, when I was still blinking away sleep he came back and motioned again, a bit less humored than before. A second uniformed set of officers came in after the military cleared out. These men (in blue) collected our passports and put them in a metal briefcase and then sauntered off to a nearby building. After a moment, a third string of officials came through. These I did not recognize.

A Chinese official in white and blue walked up to Mike and held a small, white machine up to his forehead. It displayed a red dot directly above and between his eyes. Another official did the same thing to the woman across from Mike in her bunk. No one seemed perturbed by this. I was a bit terrified though, and when the guy came at me with the mystery devise I jerked back until he started laughing and pulled a thermometer out of the inside of the machine to demonstrate that he was only taking my temperature. Apparently (and, my guess would be from fear and paranoia) my temperature was a bit high. No kidding, officer?! He saw that we were American and then began to freak out a bit, he pulled out extra thermometers and made us stick them under our arms. The lady in our cabin motioned for us to remove them when he turned his back, so we did. When they came back they were at 36 and 37 degrees and then, suddenly, the officer spoke. I responded in Chinese and he nervously laughed, “I didn’t know you understood!” after a pause he added, “Excuse me, do you have the swine flu?” We said no, and a group of five officers showed up to listen to our story. We explained that we had been living in China since December and thus had not been in proximity to Mexico.

I’m impressed, honestly, with the way the government organized for mass border health checks including training the officers and explaining the origins of the flu. They did it professionally and quickly, and targeted the correct people for further inspection. I applaud. Its no small thing to halt a pandemic, and the government does away with PC measures to get stuff done.

After the swine flu check we had a baggage check. Here, I give a one thumb up, one thumb down. The Chinese guards only searched our bags and no one else’s. They made a big show of making us unpack every item in our bags. I suppose it is their job, but while we were showing them how an electronic toothbrush works the lady in our cabin was subtly kicking a duct-tapped bag under her bed. Whatever she was transporting was not 100% legit.

We finally chugged along only to stop five minutes later while they changed the wheels. Apparently Russian tracks are not the same distance apart as Chinese tracks, and this means all the wheels have to be replaced when entering Kazakhstan (also true with Russia and Mongolia).

Now to go through Kazakh customs. While the Chinese side had been entirely large, intimidating but finely groomed males the Kazakh customs officials were petite, gorgeous women in fish-net stocking, mini skirts and fluffy white blouses. A brunette came directly to our cabin and batted her big brown eyes, “You are American?” she asked. Mike nearly fell over himself as his jaw dropped and I responded, “yes.” She told us to give up our passports and show our bags to her friend, a red-head in a shorter skirt and more elaborate fish-net stockings. Mike responded with, “whatever you say!” and they walked away. However, after two hours of waiting, much to Mike’s disappointment they never came back. A burley alcoholic-smelling man came to return our passports and, after picking up new Kazakhs we headed on towards Almaty after one very successful and ultimately hassle free border crossing.

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.

The Best and the Worst – so far.
Here are a list of the best places along the route and their contact information, we highly recommend these establishments and, unfortunately, received no knock-backs for passing on the good word.

Fubar, Kashgar branch.
This place is amazing! It is the only foreigner-run eatery in Kashgar, and their attention to detail meant that nothing was left undone. Here we dined on Pizza, Gin&Tonics and played board games. Conveniently located in central Kashgar, all the cab drivers know the spot. After multiple days in the desert, this oasis is worth the visit.

Kashgar Old Town Hostel.
This hostel was once a mosque, now converted into a multi-room dorm house with 6 or 8 beds per room. The Chinese youth who runs the place is a wealth of information and has great local contacts if you are looking for travel information. We definitely recommend staying here over the Semen Hotel, as rooms are 35RMB a night rather than 150. Meanwhile, the location is primo- a 5 minute walk from Edgar Mosque in central Old Town.

MaiTian Youth Hostel.
Located near Renmin Park in Urumqi, the Maitian youth hostel is a bit more rugged than others but for 40RMB a night it is passable. A bit pricey for what you get (6,8 bed gender-divided dorm rooms) the place has a decent location and is a wealth of information. The Chinese running the place seem hesitant to be helpful and are dismissive of any problems, but if you are a survivalist, this is a good spot to sojourn a few nights. Just be aware that the staff run this place like their personal club house and will be on the internet at all hours (rendering it useless) and screaming up and down the halls when they get on duty (promptly at 8).

Windows Scoreboard, Shanghai, China.
I am hesitant to write about this gem because I do not want it flooded with tourists. However, if you want a taste of home check out this hard-to-find windows location on HuaiHai lu (Near Sinan Lu). The lowest prices of any bar in China and a great atmosphere with a mixed crowd of Chinese, Thai, Western and African. A beer will set you back 10RMB.

The Worst:

And, sadly, here are a list of establishments to be avoided, and explanations as to why they definitely do not rock.

Fubar, Urumqi branch.

Old Mosque Youth Hostel

While the Kashgar branch rocks, this one is located on a bar street and competes with other, better equipped bars. Meanwhile, their serve a lousy pour, the staff are rude, loud and negligent, and the published address all over the internet is not correct. Meanwhile, they were without power when we arrived and had a noisy generated sitting, chained, to the front door as a back-up plan.

Silver (White) Birches Youth Hostel, Urumqi, China.
This shoddy establishment was hard to find and quite a jaunt from the train and bus stations, and from the airport. Once you finally arrive you will be disappointed by the piles of trash and dirt that occupy every corner, and the scurrying cock-roaches that act as permanent residents of the bathrooms and dorm rooms. The beds are hard and sheets and blankets are not guaranteed. Meanwhile, you will be close to a park, but nothing else in the city and will spend money on buses or cabs for transportation. Better to stay somewhere closer to downtown that is not infested with insects. Also, this hostel is in the running for ‘worst bathroom in China.’

Captain Hostel on the Bund, Shanghai, China.
This hostel, while nice enough, was massively overpriced. Located on the famous ‘bund’ are of Shanghai, we could not contest the price based on the better-than-expected location, but the service was horrible, there were few additional benefits like laundry, and the location meant a very noisy night. For one night, it was okay but we would not recommend multiple evenings here.

U-Cool Hostel, Shanghai, China.
While the lovely woman who runs the establishment is friendly and sweet, the hostel itself leaves much to be desired. The 6-8 bed dorm rooms are 40RMB a night and there is nothing in the way of additional services like a laundry facility, internet or a bar. We stayed here two weeks (out of necessity and because the owner, Anna, was very friendly, but we missed out on meeting new people and having entertainment. On the up side the location near the Bund was fantastic. Be prepared to spend your time in this hostel with Anna and her two sons as a partial baby-sitter.

Tashkurgan Stone City - Princess Fortress

At the end of a tree-lined street, we stopped at an old clay fortress. We discovered that it was over 1300 years old. Middle Eastern / Central Asia in design, the fortress stood watch over a beautiful green valley. It was easy to envision the structure being the only building in the area protecting the furthest boundaries of various dynasties or empires. After getting some pictures on the fort, I turned to look at the Pamirs. It was almost crazy to imagine that just over that range was Afghanistan. The valley below the fortress was full of small huts and streams going through the lumps of green sod. We ventured out into the valley and found that all of the streams were fed by bubbling springs all over the valley. A quaint wooden bridges arched over several sections of the stream so herders could cross their fields. We then collected some food and water and headed back for Kashgar.

After several hours on the road again, seeing the same scenery – which was equally beautiful in reverse – our driver suddenly jerked the wheel off the road. We started a bumpy ride toward a massive mountain range across a small desert. Initially, I thought we were just going off-road a little ways to get a picture. After about 15 -20 minutes though, it was pretty clear that we were going all the way to the mountains. Somewhat of an unscheduled stop, the driver turned around smiling and said, “We are going to that peak right there. You can see some ice.” At least that is what I got in Chinese. The road got even worse and we started jumping rocks and small boulders with the jeep. And by “road” I mean middle of nowhere randomly driving across a desert.

After an hour or so, we started inching our way up and down hills and valleys to find a safe pass to the mountain range.

Suddenly, the driver dropped the jeep into a rocky Spring melt river bank. The jeep immediately became stuck in the snow. Everyone exited the vehicle, and started to help the driver dig it out. I was wondering, “Are we going to spend the night up here because, even if we do get it out of the snow, how do we get out of the river bank?” However, to my amazement we got back in the jeep and continued across the boulders and rocks. The driver was insistent that he drive us to where we needed to be. We requested that he stop so we can hike up the rest of the way. With a sigh of disgust, he stopped in the bank and we hiked for about 1 ½ hours to the edge of a glacier.

The landscape was beautiful. A beautiful white glacier was dipping into a valley between the mountains. We climbed around the glacier and took pictures for a while. Looking around in the other directions was equally amazing. Looking at the towering peaks above us, the clouds swirl by so quickly. However, maybe I was just dizzy as we were now well over 4800 meters or about 3 miles above sea level. As I turned West, there were dust devils whirling in the desert and a snow storm approaching through the middle. We quickly made our decent and headed back to the jeep. It took us about 30 minutes to build up a rock ladder for the jeep to get out of the melt bank. I am glad we did not blow a tire or hook the frame on a rock. It would have been a very cold way to end it all, but at least the scenery was nice. We eventually made it through a small sand storm and were back on the road to Kashgar.

We have a video but it will not upload, we will do our best to add it soon.

If you are interested in doing a trip like this from Kashgar, it will talk about 1 full day from Kashgar to Lake Karakul, and then another day to Tashkurgan, the glacier, and back to Kashgar around 9 or 10 at night. Don’t forget to bring your passport as there was at least one document check before we got to Lake Karakul. There were several Chinese police stations policing this “Autonomous” Tajik Region of Xinjiang, China, so there may be more checks in the future.

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.

Old Town Doorway

We spent the day today walking around the Old Town districts of Kashgar. Around the mosque, one of the largest in China, were rows of marketers selling a variety of local hand-made wares. Across the street we entered the bazaar and were in awe as all Chinese aspects of the city disappeared and stalls of herbs, fruits, nuts, and spices covered the streets ahead. It was almost as though we were on the silk road again, which Marco Polo and Aurel Stein spoke of in such great detail. We walked for hours in what is most easily described as a photographers dream. Children ran up to us in the streets and alleys asking us to take their picture and then show it to them.

Around 7:00 this evening we experienced a large sand storm that engulfed all of Kashgar. People were running around the streets, shop owners closed their stores, and I got a fist full of sand in my eyes. There is some video of this, but we are having some issues with the Internet capabilities. There are still some really strong winds and I just heard the sound of several pieces of pottery breaking outside as a gust of wind blew them off their perch. If it is this bad in the city right now, I can not imagine what it is like in the Taklamakan.

Tomorrow we are taking a bus down / up the Karakorum Highway, which goes along the the border of several of the “Stans” and we will spend the night at Lake Karakul in a ger or yurt. The Karakorum has come highly recommended to us by our friends as well as a few fellow travelers we have met along the way. It will be a great photo opportunity as the highway will take us well over 3000 meters into the mountains. The last leg of this two day journey will take us to the base of the border with Pakistan. Apparently, we can stand next to a disgruntled member of the Chinese border security with one foot in Pakistan.

Mr. Friendly in Alley

As our night train rolled in from Urumqi today (24 hour sleeper train), we came upon a very Chinese station platform. Although I had not awoken to the rolling sand dunes of the Great Taklamakan that I had dreamed of, there was an ocean of a desert that spread as far as the eye could see. We found a driver to take us into town and found a nice hostel in Old Town near the local Mosque.

Xinjiang province was predominantly Uighur until the last 5-10 years as Han Chinese were integrated into the region. The Uighur are a combination of Central Asian Kazak, Tajik, Uzbek, and Mongolian – they are also a Islamic culture. The 2500 + kilometers of desert preceding, slowly faded into a lush desert oasis tucked away in between the Taklamakan Desert and the Himalayas.

We walked around the surrounding alleys leading to the centralized Mosque for hours taking several great pictures.  The 500 year old city wall, which used to surround Kashgar is literally a 3 minute walk from where we are.  It is amazing that anyone could send an army out here to conquer anything, but Russia and China have throughout the past.  In the next few days we will take a camel tour into the Taklamakan Desert and take a bus up the Karakorum Highway.

If you are interested in staying here:

233 Wusitangboyi Road – it is very difficult to find, but most taxi drivers know the street and you just have to find the random unnamed alley ways to this destination.  It is near the Edgar Mosque and West Renmin Road and has two large red doors with a very small “Youth Hostel” sign on the doorway.  I will update later with more information if I can.

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!

Step one:  Leave with too much stuff in your bags and pull every muscle in your back and neck.

Step two: Backpack to post office to mail a laptop and other stuff that is too heavy. Why did Mike pack a history textbook?

police

Step three:  Hail a cab during rush hour on the Chinese May 1st holiday.

Step four: Share a bottle of Jamison with friends.

Step five:  Forget to eat dinner while consuming Jamison.

Step six: Try to hail a cab again during rush hour and then bribe the driver to drive on the sidewalk to get us to the train station.

Step seven: After bribe attempt, realize that your train leaves at 6:25 not 6:45.

Step eight: Arrive at train station at 7:00 and sit on bag with beer until police blow whistles in your face for loitering.

Step nine:  Laugh when girlfriend gets in whistle blowing contest with the police using your emergency whistle.

Step ten: Convert to Buddhism after they exchange tickets for the train for the following day for free.

Step eleven:  Check into hostel in the city in which you have lived for the last year and a half.

Step twelve:  Get lost in that same city looking for friends who are still drinking from the Jamison incident, and find them at local all-you-can-drink brewery to discuss the tenants of libertarianism and wind energy.

Step thirteen:  End up at a classy bar in travel pants that zip off in three different places to have someone tell you that you really need to get your life together…after noticing aforementioned zip-off pants.

Step fourteen:  “I’m sure something else will happen so lets leave this one open.”

Travel tip:  You can exchange your train tickets!  I never knew you could do this.  You definitely could not do this in the states, at least for free.  Perhaps we just looked that pathetic.  Go to window 13 at the shanghai ticket office to exchange your tickets.