6 - From Beijing With Love (Beijing)

Beijing, CHINA - 24 june 2002

Beijing was a blurry, foggy mess when I arrived. I had expected searing-hot 40°C summer temperatures but I heard that a cold front had moved in a few days ago and it had been raining everyday since.

I found Jing Hua Hotel without much difficulty and was issued Bed 3 in the 20-bed dormitory.

Bed 11 guy was playing guitar in the room when I entered. He introduced himself as Raymond, from the Philippines. He is a musician and had been playing in bars around China for months. I recalled another Filipino musician Ato I met earlier in Dali and asked if Raymond knew him. Bingo. They had jammed with each other for years before in Manila and even here in China. What a coincidence!

Eager to exercise my limbs after the 48-hour train confinement, I checked out the massive city immediately. The place to start wandering would be the Tiananmen area. I soon realised that due to an internet bar fire incident a few weeks ago which killed 20+ young people in Beijing, the authorities had gone and shut down all internet bars in China. Well, I guess, travellers like me would be ‘shut out’ from communications with the outside world for a while.

Beijing is impressively modern. I could really feel the efforts put in by the government to improve its facilities and roads, etc… and be spiffy and ready for Olympics 2008. I mean, there are many FREE and CLEAN public toilets around the Tiananmen Square - something almost unheard of in other parts of China.

There seemed to be more toilet attendants than users. I had barely opened the cubicle door to depart before a toilet attendant stuck her head in and demanded to know if I had flushed. Yes, unlike the Chinese, I had been toilet-trained since birth to flush my rose bowl.

For want of a destination, I plucked the Silk Market from the map and strove to get there by walking. The map of Beijing in my guide-book looked innocent enough but Beijing is impossibly gigantic. It took 3 hours before I reached the Silk Market from the Tiananmen area, thoroughly exhausted.

The Silk Market sold Oriental costumes, fake NORTH-FACE jackets and outdoor backpacks and bags, ties, etc… By chance, I ran into Robin and Louise (from England) whom I had previously met on the horse-trek in Songpan! Woah, what a pleasant surprise! It was wonderful to see them again. Louise was buying two Oriental cheong-sams or qi-paos. I would never be caught dead in a cheong-sam but I guess, Western tourists found them exotic.

We caught up with our travels and had a great laugh over the silly things that had happened. Then, I went with them to a famous Beijing Duck restaurant and helped them order two sets of take-away Beijing Ducks as their form of thanks to the friends they had been staying with in Beijing. Y105 each. Wow… that was a lot of money to me. But Robin and Louise were heading home tomorrow and it was time to splurge. Great for them!








Beijing, CHINA - 25 june 2002

Bed 2 guy, Guillaume from Canada, invited me to join him to visit the Great Wall. We decided to head to a section called the Huang Hua Great Wall which we heard was wild and crumbling and which had very few tourists.

It had rained continuously since last night. We had chosen the worst day to climb the wall. But we were not alone in this error of judgement. We ran into two other room-mates, Matt and Tim from England, at the metro station and they had decided to camp out at Huang Hua Great Wall tonight… in this weather.

The company was great fun and the 4-hour metro-and-bus ride to get there did not feel that long.

Indeed, this section was absolutely wild. It was NOT set up like a kitsch amusement park catered for the packaged-Chinese tourists, with T-shirts and souvenir kiosks, a place to print certificates with photos stating ‘I climbed the Great Wall’, etc…

There was only one food stall selling drinks before and after your climb… and a handful of obligatory T-shirts for sale. Hang on, there was no admission fees here. This was incredible news to us.

We huffed and puffed up the Great Wall, scrambling up the rubble and meandering between shrubs in the rain. I was lucky. I had three guys to help lift me up the tricky bits. The view ahead was enshrouded in mist and fog. We could hardly make out the trail of the wall around the mountains. Sometimes, we thought we could see it but then, we could not be sure. Still, in a way, it greatly mystified the Great Wall.

Beijing, CHINA - 26 june 2002

Bed 6 Pablo from Argentina had overheard that I needed to make a trip to the Bolivian Embassy to try and apply for a visa authorisation. I explained to him that a Bolivian visa application for Singaporeans seemed to be long and tedious.

As he spoke Spanish, he had offered to go with me just in case he could help explain anything in Spanish to the Bolivian staff there. Also, he needed to pick up his passport from the Mongolian Embassy where he had left for the visa.

So, today was embassy-hopping day. I read somewhere I did not require a Mongolian visa if I stayed in the country for less than 14 days. At the Mongolian Embassy, I tried to get a confirmation. The lady surprised me by telling me I had 21 days free. Excellent!

We eventually located the Bolivian Embassy, which seemed to be undergoing some sort of renovations. Side-stepping the rubble outside, Pablo kindly opened the door for us and we entered.

Well, there was not a single Bolivian in sight. An elderly Chinese woman came out and frowned. I explained my intention to her in Mandarin. She barked back that Asians needed to wait 2 to 3 months before an authorisation could be issued. Was I willing to wait? Yes, that was why I came here 3 to 4 months ahead of my intended travel to try and get the authorisation.

She snatched my passport from me and retorted that my China visa would be invalid by then. I patiently informed her I was leaving the country soon and I would have to be contacted by email and with the (hopefully) APPROVE authorisation, I would go to a Bolivian Embassy in United Kingdom, for example, to process the visa. While she disagreed with this move, she grudgingly, very grudgingly, took out an application form and barked out the things I needed to provide - a letter explaining my intention of travel, where I was going, photocopy of my passport, a photo, contact numbers, etc… And I was to return on Monday, not tomorrow, not the day after… but Monday.

Pablo, stunned by the rapid exchanges of Mandarin between us, was once again put to good use by opening the door for us when we departed.

Argh, what an awful woman!











Beijing, CHINA - 27 june 2002

Another rainy day today. I spent the day wandering around the Forbidden City. I had thought I could visit a museum later but seriously, one could only do one thing in one day in Beijing. If you visited a sight, that was it… no chance for another. If you went to the embassies to stock up on visas, that was it too… no chance to visit a sight. Beijing is just massive.

The Forbidden City is vast. I must have spent 4 or 5 hours meandering in there and still, I probably only covered 70% of the things available.

As expected, the place was packed with tourists, many of whom were Chinese, many of whom were spitting on the precious Imperial grounds. And as expected, one could dress up in Imperial costumes and pretend to be the child emperor or the concubine or the mostachioed emperor on horse-back. Kitsch.



Beijing, CHINA - 28 june 2002

Yesterday’s tour of the Forbidden City thoroughly exhausted me for today. I am sorry to report today was a day off for me.

A few of us late-risers in the dorm did laundry together and then, returned and fought for space to hang our clothes.

Beijing was turning out quite fun for me because of the people I met in the dorm. The 20-bed dorm was great. There was always music in the dorm. One could not really sleep as the lights were on late and people were chatting and laughing in the corner. There was no room to hang your laundry. The bathroom was a 25 minute trek down the damp and mouldy basement and as I descended and headed down the long corridor, sometimes, I felt like I was going through a worm-hole and emerging as ‘John Malkovich’; sometimes, I imagined seeing a pair of twins standing at the end of the corridor, with blood flowing towards me. The hostel is located next to a very smelly river. When I was in the crowded bus, I always knew when to get off… you can smell the river before you see it. Like I said, it was a great hostel.

There were always new people popping in and out and new friends to make.

Bed 16 had a Korean-Japanese guy who came wandering in with his possessions tied in a small bundle at the end of a pole. He had untied his bundle and left his entire earthly possessions strewn around the bed. We veered near to check out his minimalist life-style and spotted two tiny souvenir toy-yaks. Yep, there was always room for yaks.

Bed 1 Jackie from New Zealand had been staying here for four months, studying Chinese and teaching English. She and Bed 11 Raymond won the long-stayer awards hands-down.

Bed 12 had Ben from USA. He had shown me his Russian visa invitation letter last night. As I already had my Russian visa, it appeared I was the one most qualified to peruse his invitation letter. He let out a sigh of relief when I nodded my approval of the Cyrillic letters printed on the letter. Today, he must have paid for the emergency processing of the visa, for he had apparently fled Beijing already.

My next bed, Bed 4, now slept Goretti from The Netherlands. Bed 17 and 18 were soon taken up by Slovenians Jus and Tina. They were all heading to Mongolia soon too.





Beijing, CHINA - 29 june 2002

It was the seventh month of Pablo’s 8-month trip around India, Nepal and now, China. Hence, for him, it was time to think of shopping for souvenirs for his friends and loved ones back home.

We headed down to Panjiayuan Market. Gosh, it was an immense market selling all sort of Oriental things. Perhaps some were antiques but I guess most were fakes.

The market had paintings, furniture, vases, giant Buddhas, brass sculptures, coins, wooden carvings, embroideries, ‘ancient’ scriptures, every Oriental thing that you could imagine. It was unbelievable.

We walked around for 4 hours and Pablo bought many items. At one point, we got down to a corner and shoved as many things as possible into his bag before we proceeded on. I was looking out for snuff bottles as presents for the friends whom I would be visiting in Europe. I finally spotted some which I loved and bought three.

About 1½ hours after we had stopped to repack, we passed by the same spot and Pablo eyed a ball of toilet-paper wrapped in a plastic bag lying on the ground. “Hey, that’s my toilet paper…” It must have dropped out just now when we repacked. Imagine, it had been lying there for the past 1½ hours. Incredulous and giggling away, he reached down to stuff it into his bag. As he was doing so, a few stall-holders started yelling at him, “Hey!! Wo de! [Mine!] Wo de!” “No, it's WO DE!” Pablo retorted adamantly.

Hmmm… Fighting over toilet-paper?



Beijing, CHINA - 30 june 2002

Today, Bed 11 Raymond would finally leave Jing Hua Hotel. He would attempt to hitch his way to Lhasa, Tibet via local trucks, without a permit. Bed 12 Ben had done the same in the reverse direction and had advised Raymond on certain tips. Best wishes to him.

I realised my Monday deadline to hand up my application form and letter to the Bolivian Embassy would be due soon. I usually got an A for Procrastination.

I hurriedly wrote a letter and requested for Pablo and Bed 5 Jack (from Spain) to help me translate into Spanish for the Bolivian authorities. I imagined if I submitted my letter in English, they would probably take another month to find someone who understand English to read it.

Then, I headed out to town to try and get my letters typed and printed. Sheesh, when I did not need the service, I would see the signs for ‘Typing/Photocopy’ all over Beijing. But now that I wanted the service, for the life of me, I could not locate these places.

Also, I needed to post my photos and guide-book home. But, first I needed money for the postal services and again, I could not locate an ATM that worked. This one rejected my card. That one had no cash. It was an ordeal as I trudged around Beijing, hunting for a working ATM.

Once armed with money, I then had no idea where the nearest post office was. Yeah, this was the story of my life in Beijing, wandering around in circles for hours.

At the end of the day, I must have walked for 6 hours today. So, I figured I thoroughly deserved a street-side foot massage done near my hostel.



Beijing, CHINA - 01 july 2002

I returned to the Bolivian Embassy gingerly. The same elderly Chinese woman came out to check out who had just walked in.

She looked at me with dead eyes, indifference and showed no sign of recognition. There was no smile, no flicker of life in her eyes. I cooed and purred as best as I could to try and ignite something in her. My charm failed miserably. Defeated, I proffered my application form and letter nervously.

She glanced at my photo and went, “Hey, this is a very nice photo of you. When did you take it?” She looked back at me, smiling. SMILING! WHAT THE?!?? I stared back at her, stunned beyond words. She continued to make little concerned noises, worrying about my travelling alone, etc…

Well, hey… what a difference my gorgeous photo made.


Beijing to Ereenhot, CHINA - 02 july 2002

Pablo and I had decided to head off to Mongolia together today. Yesterday, Goretti, Jus and Tina had gone to the bus station and attempted to get on the 5pm bus to Ereenhot (border town with Mongolia) and could not get bus tickets.

So, now I was worried that we could not get tickets too. I wanted to try for the earlier 1pm bus for if we could not get on that one, we would try for the 5pm bus. But Pablo had to pack all his souvenirs into his backpack and he suspected he would not be ready by then. He suggested I leave first. We guessed we would see each other across the border tomorrow.

Well, I did make it to the 1pm bus. But this stupid bus went to another bus station and stayed there until 5pm before leaving. Darn!! I should have gone for the 5pm bus instead with all my friends from the Beijing hostel. I was really angry with myself for making this stupid decision to try and cross the border alone. Well, I was not entirely alone. There was one other tourist with me, Barbara from the USA.

She was a peculiar girl. She is only 18 and she informed me that she intended to buy a bicycle in Mongolia and cycle around Mongolia for three months. She hoped that she needed not return to Ulaan Baator to renew her visa after each month, so her idea was to cycle way way way out from the capital. I had no idea how experienced her camping skills were but I had serious doubts about this stunt, especially since I learnt she was a vegan - no meat, no dairy products. Imagine that in Mongolia!

5 - Dial M for Mutton (Lake Karakul)

Kashgar to Lake Karakul, CHINA - 17 june 2002

Jane and I bade farewell. Our trip together had finally come to an end. She was heading back to Ürümqi this evening as she had a flight to Xi’an the next evening. Meanwhile, I had decided to go to Lake Karakul which is about three-quarters of the way from Kashgar to Tashkurgan (which is the last town towards Pakistan on China’s side).

This route would be part of the famous Karakoram Highway from Islamabad in Pakistan, across the Khunjerab Pass to Kashgar. The scenery, we had heard, was supposed to be amazing.

Sitting on the right side of the bus, I had fantastic view most of the time. However, the road was very bad. Many sections had caved in and the bus-driver had to keep steering the bus onto the rocky section, in order to bypass the disintegrated parts of the road. The trip, as a result, took a longer time than it should be.

After seven hours of rather harsh travelling, a lady next to me indicated this was Lake Karakul and we (a few other tourists and I) had to shout to the driver several times before he stopped for us.

At first glance, I did not think Lake Karakul was worth the effort to come out here specifically. OK, the weather was very cloudy today and spoiled the view, I supposed. With good lighting, the lake could be beautiful. But the people managing the lake had added barbed wires, which looked pretty useless to ward off anything, around the lake and there were even ten dilapidated pool-tables next to the lake. The one or two shops here were in ugly tin cans.

They had not only come and destroyed the view, they were the most unfriendly hosts I had encountered in a long time. We tried to negotiate for a cheaper price for the yurt but were unsuccessful. OK, we had no other choice. But after we paid, they simply left us there, with no hot water nor offers of extra blankets. It felt as if they knew they had had us. Where else could we go?

Before we went for a walk, we inquired the price for food here. Everything was more expensive. Rice was Y5 (usual, Y1). Veggies was Y10 (usual, Y3-6). Meat was Y20 and above (usual, Y6 and above). Fried rice was Y15 (usual, Y3-5). Once again, we knew we had no choice.

However, by the time we were hungry and tried to order food, they now informed us - Veggies was Y20 and meat was Y40 and above. This was ridiculous. I argued with them that this was really unfair as how could the price have doubled in the last 2 hours? Instead of negotiating for a compromise, they simply retorted, “Who told you the price earlier? Who told you?!?!?!”

We were all very cross and the people I was with - Andie from Wales, June from Singapore and Sin Hai from Japan - decided to flee the lake first thing tomorrow morning. I chose not to eat anything that night.

The altitude of Lake Karakul was probably 4000+ m. I had no idea! I did not even pack my sleeping bag. I was shivering from cold the entire night as I lost a lot of heat from the poorly-insulated mattress. I seriously was not sure if I could survive til morning.


Lake Karakul to Kashgar, CHINA - 18 june 2002

I did.

With an excellent blue sky the next morning, I decided to give Lake Karakul another chance. After we packed, June and Sin Hai headed out to the highway to try and hitch a ride at once. Andie wanted to sit by the lake and I decided to walk along the lake towards Tashkurgan and see if I could hitch a ride to Tashkurgan when things got boring.

Yes, now, away from the negative energy at the main yurt area, I felt very at peace and found the lake indeed to be gorgeous.

I passed by a Kyrgyz village after an hour’s walk. A family beckoned me over. The guys here wore hats that were new to me. They were made of felt, were white with black embroidery and pretty tall. Even a baby with no underwear was wearing a small version. I sat with the family, gesturing to the mothers that their babies were very cute. The teenage brother of the two ladies could speak Mandarin and provided translation for us. After a while, they invited me in for some naan and yoghurt.

I proceeded on my trek in the direction of Tashkurgan. For a long time, there were no vehicles going towards Tashkurgan. Most vehicles were heading towards Kashgar. I started to wonder if I ought to try and return to Kashgar instead. I rounded a bend and fought hard against the strong head-wind that nearly tossed me in the air. I had no choice now but to return round the bend and wait, to avoid the wind. So, now I could no longer head towards Tashkurgan anymore.

At 11:30am, I recalled that the daily bus from Tashkurgan to Kashgar would pass by here around noon and decided to forget about Tashkurgan and return to Kashgar. I just crossed the road and merely waited for 30 seconds before the daily bus came by. How lucky I was!






Kashgar, CHINA - 19 june 2002

Well, today would be a rest-day for me. I simply headed to the Ren Min Park, discovered it required an entrance fee as usual, refused to pay for it and and sat outside the park under the shade to update my journal.

Ali, who worked at the travel agency at my hotel, cycled by, recognised me and stopped. We chatted for a while and he suggested I visit the Abakh Hoja Tomb or Fragrant Concubine Tomb which contain 58 tombs or coffins from the Uyghur family of Abakh Hoja.

The story was that a grand-daughter of Abakh Hoja was called Fragrant Maid because she had legendary body aroma. She was so beautiful and aromatic that she later became the concubine of Emperor Qian Long, hence, the alternative name of the tomb. This became a famous Uyghur-Han Chinese union. Well, now I know how aromatic her body odour had been…


Kashgar to Ürümqi, CHINA - 20 june 2002

I had travelled from Ürümqi to Kashgar on the luxurious express train. On realising there was a regular train at half the price but with a travel time longer by 6 hours, I took it for my return trip to Ürümqi. I mean, there was not much difference if the train ride was 30 hours, compared to 24 hours. I just had to sleep longer. But the money saved sure made a difference. Well, good bye, shish kebabs…

Nothing eventful happened. As usual, when the attendants or police or fellow train commuters realised I was from foreign lands and could speak Mandarin, I was subjected to their vigorous interrogations and inquisitive queries. They would always ask me how much I earned. After my reluctant reply, the scene would turn ugly as they lambasted their poverty, their jobs, their government, their wives, etc… It often got quite embarrassing.

A train attendant appraised me carefully and asked, “So, if I marry you, can I enter Singapore?” Err…


Ürümqi, CHINA - 21 june 2002

When we arrived in Ürümqi, just before I got off the train, the train attendant from yesterday looked at me funny again. I feared he would really propose. But he did not. Phew… Or perhaps, I had just lost my last chance for happiness, you think?

I changed my travel plans and decided to go straight to Beijing on a marathon 48-hour train ride and skip all the places in between. I had quite a bit of administrative things to do in Beijing before I leave for Mongolia.


Ürümqi to Beijing, CHINA - 22 june 2002

Slept. Snacked. Stared at window. Read. Relieved myself. Slept some more. Was found out to be a foreigner by now. Fielded interrogations. Ate dinner. Drank orange juice.


To Beijing, CHINA - 23 june 2002

Brushed teeth. Stared at window. Hopped down to the platform for a stretch. Read. Slept again. Ate apricots. Handled more interrogations.

“So, will you RETURN to China?” my fellow travel-mate drilled at me.
“Huh? R-e-t-u-r-n??? No.” I replied.
“WHY NOT?!?! YOU HAVE CHINESE BLOOD FLOWING IN YOU!!!!” he turned beet-red.

Ooops. Interrogations had gone awry. Slithered away to sleep again. Beijing… Beijing… Beijing…

5 - Dial M for Mutton (Kashgar)

Kashgar, CHINA - 13 june 2002

One of the ladies in my cabin on the train to Kashgar was a Chinese local living in Kashgar. As we prepared to get off the train, I enquired about the taxi fare to town, so that I would not be ripped off. This, somehow, spurred her to perform her duty of a local extending her hospitality to a foreign tourist. She said we could go to her nursery (she imported and exported plants and in fact, had had four plants with her on this train-ride) together and then, she would buy me lunch and get me settled down in my hotel. “OK, xie xie, [thank you] Liang Dan.” I accepted graciously.

Indeed all the above were done with a lot of attention and extreme generosity and I was really touched by her actions. Very sweet girl.

After I got settled down and did some laundry, I decided to head out for a quick walk around Kashgar. As I descended down the steps, a Chinese man was shouting in Mandarin to the room attendants nearby, “I am looking for a guest in this hotel. She is from Singapore.” He paused to examine me, “Are you the one?!?!”

Hang on, what was going on here? Well, it turned out Liang Dan had mentioned me to her brother and now, her brother, who apparently had heard ‘what a wonderful country Singapore is’, wanted to extend his hospitality to me too. So, Liang Dan and her brother trooped over to my hotel to try and track me down.

They sat me down at the lobby and her brother proceeded to criticise the hotel’s condition and boasted he could get me to stay at his friend’s hotel (which normally cost Y100+) for free.

The hotel I was staying in seemed to be Uyghur-run as many of the staff were Uyghurs. In a way, it was an affront to them to have an Uyghur hotel criticised so openly by a Han Chinese man, within their ear-shots. I felt very embarrassed. Although I tried my best to thank him for his kindness and that it was unnecessary for me to stay in a fancy hotel, he refused to listen to a word from me and stated I would check out tomorrow and stay at his friend’s hotel. He proceeded to inform that his friend was buying them dinner and I was to join them as I was now their guest.

So, that was how I found myself in a Chinese hotel on the outskirts of town, staring at a set Western dinner (beef steak, soup, bread and everything) plus heaps of food ordered from the Chinese menu.

I was still having a little diarrhoea problem but they would not listen to my feeble protests against eating any oily food and insisted I eat to give them ‘face’. Later, I was also made to drink a shot of the local Chinese whiskey even though I did not know how to drink and did not think it wise to drink anything with my weak stomach condition. Nope, Liang Dan’s brother would have none of it.

He then informed the Hotel Guy to get a room ready for me and my Irish friend tomorrow (Jane would be flying in then). The Hotel Guy paused for a long time before nodding his head in agreement. Oh no, he was unwilling to do this. Now, I felt even worse.

I was finally released back to my hotel by midnight, after making me promise to call Liang Dan’s brother on Saturday so that he could take me out on a tour.

I felt terrible. They were trying to make me comfortable and happy with my stay here in Kashgar. They did not want money or anything. They were just being generous and thoughtful in their ways. But this was not what we wanted. We did not want to be in the outlying area of Kashgar in a fancy Chinese hotel with a Western Café and the Imperial Restaurant.

But, there was the problem of the not giving them ‘face’ if I rejected all their generous offers.



Kashgar, CHINA - 14 june 2002

I gave a call to Liang Dan and explained that my Irish friend, Jane, and I travelled so far out into the Kashgar area to be in the middle of, we hope, the Uyghur culture - eating shish kebabs, smelling the mutton body odour, seeing the wonderful variety of exotic faces, head-gears and dresses and wandering in the bazaars. Liang Dan said she understood. I thanked her profusely again. I was once again reminded to call her brother on Saturday for the ‘tour’. Ooook, I guess I could not reject that.

Throw all your romantic notions away! Kashgar is no longer the exotic remote oasis, which had been a major trading post of the Silk Road for thousands of years. It is 2002 now, after all. One would be SILLY to expect the same rustic charm as 2000 years ago. We learnt our lessons in Turpan by setting high expectations for it and then, feeling a tad disappointed about it. So, before we came to Kashgar, we aimed really low.

True enough, there were spiffy roads, a Mao statue, new shopping malls and Oriental-looking bridges in front of the Ren Min (People’s) Park. But once in the Uyghur areas, the whole place was a labyrinth of twisting alleys and mud huts, interspersed by bazaars and mosques.

Jane and I simply wandered round the Id Kah Mosque and the bazaars by the two sides of the mosque and across the road. It was truly a fantastic experience. The faces we saw here were as diverse as those in Turpan and the bazaars here were busier and more interesting.

Here, shish kebabs are huge, chunky affairs and really delicious! The way to stomach it without feeling too queasy or gross about the fat is to accompany the kebabs with the local Uyghur tea. I loved them.

I had three sticks of kebabs and a bowl of noodle. The locals were gobbling them up like ten sticks each. A bevy of babushkas - Uyghur middle-aged ladies and grannies - came and sat next to me. Some sat with one of their legs up on the seat, exposing their underpants. Soon, they were served a mountain-load of shish-kebabs and gnawing away at them in no time.

With the mutton intake came the ‘aromatic’ body odour among the locals. Sometimes, I could still smell an Uyghur lady 3 minutes after she left the toilet, for example. Well, what you eat is what you smell. In the Tibetan part of China, I smelled yak butter among the monks. And here, I smelled barbecued mutton. Why not?







Kashgar, CHINA - 15 june 2002

I knew it was Saturday and that I ought to call Liang Dan or her brother but I decided to procrastinate til as late as possible.

I spent the day wandering among the alleyways in the Uyghur area, getting lost in the labyrinthine alleys. I enjoyed it very much. Uygher children were all delightful and seemed more precocious than Tibetan children and definitely more so than Han Chinese children.

In the Tibetan part of China, when the children asked for photos, all the boys would pose excitedly but the girls would stand by the side awkwardly. The Tibetan girls needed more persuasion before they shyly agreed. But here, the Uygher girls, many dressed in frou-frou lacy dresses and looked like wedding cakes, had had their hair shaved (maybe due to head lice?) and were fighting with the boys for more pictures. Strangely, these girls also had a kick out of tiaras. They would wear tiaras on their heads proudly and march off to school.

While the locals were mostly Muslims, there were many interesting varieties in their dressing too. The babushkas with the see-through head-scarves were plentiful. There was a larger number of women who covered their whole head and face with a brown cloth. Some wrapped their nose and mouth with a white scarf and wore dark sun-glasses. These looked like they participated in the Invisible Man Project. Many ladies and some girls also had drawn a line across their eye-brows connecting them. It was really interesting to observe such varieties.

I called Liang Dan in the evening and well, she said she and her brother were too busy with their work today and could not meet me. I know this made me look like a really bad person but I actually felt quite relieved. Liang Dan was sweet but her brother was difficult.

By night-fall, the area around Id Kah Mosque was transformed into a food market, selling boiled goat’s heads and innards, spicy chicken and eggs, chickpeas and some deep-fried sweet desserts. It was colourful and extremely busy. Jane and I sampled different dishes that looked swallowable, i.e. we did not try the goat’s head and innards.

An Uyghur elderly man found us interesting and chatted with us in Mandarin. Soon, we were surrounded by a group of at least seven people who appraised us seriously, furrowed their eye-brows, puzzled over our replies and made further queries and clarifications with the Uyghur elderly man who acted as the translator. We felt like zoo animals but they were friendly and just curious.


















Kashgar, CHINA - 16 june 2002

Kashgar is famous for its Sunday Bazaar. The population can swell up to 50,000 as villagers from the surrounding region come to buy and sell. According to a local, today’s bazaar was the quietest in a long time. It was the harvest time now, apparently.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the day tremendously doing what I liked best - people-watching.

The Kashgar Sunday Bazaar is a fantastically huge market. Farming forks, melons, yoghurt drink, apricots, hats, cloth materials, dried fruits and nuts, house-hold items, bicycle-repair parts, etc… everything that could be sold was sold here. The main covered market was huge and confusing, although similar items were indeed organised to be sold at their special sections. I got lost many times - which was great.

Outside the market was just as chaotic. Barbers had set up stalls by the side. These Uyghur men, who had apparently worn their skull caps all their lives and now removed them for the barbers, actually had fair skin where the hats used to be. The contrast was incredible. They received a good facial massage after their shave or cut.

I saw old, worn shoes being sold as well. Many came to try on the least disgusting looking pairs. Donkey carts shoved past you as the owners ferried sheep, fruits, their families across the market. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. There was so much to see. I really enjoyed myself here.

The weather was very hot and I stopped frequently for home-made vanilla ice-cream and yoghurt drink. People always warned about avoiding food items with ice and glasses which were not washed after each use, because of the questionable hygiene. Jane was very careful about this. But, NOT to eat the vanilla ice-cream and yoghurt drink is NOT to get into the Uyghur action. They were sold everywhere and eaten by everyone. And I loved them too.