It's been a while since I wrote,
so I thought I would keep you all posted of my movements over the past couple of
weeks.
In Kashgar, where I last mailed
from I generally took things easy, wandered about town a little, round the
bazaar and took the opportunity to get a little drunk, it may sound pathetic,
but the availability of alcohol makes a difference, prohibiting it doesn't work
as there is nothing so tasty as forbidden fruit, furthermore abstention makes
one a bit of a light-weight so not able to handle the appropriate levels of
booze. I have been working quite hard recently to get my blood/alcohol balance
back in order as after travelling through Iran and Pakistan the amount of blood
in my alcohol stream was reaching dangerously high levels.
From Kashgar went by train to
Urumqi, a thirty six hour journey on a hard sleeper that I really was not
looking forward to. I had the pre-conception that Chinese hard sleeper was
similar to Pakistani hard sleeper (a sheet of ply-wood above the hard seats). In
actuality it wasn't too bad there are about twenty door-less booths to a
carriage with beds on either side of the booth, stacked three high, bedclothes
and hot water is provided and the toilets weren't as rancid as popular mythology
led me to believe. There is no privacy though, but people generally keep
themselves to themselves and the staff are constantly mopping the floors and
selling watermelons. So, all in all the journey was pretty uneventful, the
scenery was undulating rocky desert that got rather repetitive after the first
few minutes. I managed to read and sleep most of the time and a mother and
daughter in the same booth kept me fed. I didn't stop in Urumqi but went
straight to Turpan, an oasis a couple of hours from Urumqi.
In Turpan I met a few other
westerners travelling about, mostly English teachers in China travelling about
during the summer break. After a few drinks John (American), Gaz (Brummy) and I
decided to take a tour around the local sights. Turpan, as is most of Xinjiang
province, is predominantly Uigur (a north-western Chinese Muslim ethnic
minority). As a result many of the sights are not typically Chinese, this was
also a little beyond the Great wall so wasn't really China until relatively
recently. The first stop was Jiahe an old mud brick city. It was rather
picturesque and very large but compared to Bam in Iran it seemed a rather
amateur attempt. We then skipped the Asanta graves where several mummies were
found as the entrance cost was unreasonably high. So next stop was Grape Valley.
As is probably rather obvious from its name it is a fertile valley covered with
vineyards. Whilst the Chinese tourists were busy looking round the vineyards -
something which held very little interest to us, particularly as it entailed
another exorbitant fee - we wandered round the village. It was interesting to
see a little bit of how the rural Chinese live. Next stop was Flaming Mountain,
another semi-self explanatory name. It is a mountain with peculiar strata in
waves from top to bottom, which when the sun is strong makes it appear to be
flames, unfortunately by the time we stopped by it, the sky was overcast. After
a lunch break back in Turpan for a little while we headed off again to the
Gaochang ruins, another mud brick city, much better than Jiahe, but still not as
impressive as Bam. After that we skipped the Karez well, as none of us had a
great interest in ancient water wells, and went to the last stop, the Emam
Minaret. This being an old mosque with an unusual tapered minaret, more
interesting and picturesque than it sounds. After a hard day imbibing the local
culture John, Gaz, Whitney (a Shanghainese girl we met) and I did the
appropriate thing, namely drank cheap beer and talked crap until two in the
morning.
The following day we all decided
to take it a bit easier, Whitney started teaching me basic Mandarin (Chinese)
and in the evening John and I went to Uigur music show. For the most part it was
very interesting and the music was good (especially the drummer who played a
frame drum, balanced on his thumb tips and hitting it with his fingers ad
palms), unfortunately good things don't last and the show went totally touristy
with a rendition of some Japanese song that all the Jap tourists loved and sang
along with, then they sank to new depths with a really chronic version of
Edelweiss for the Germans. Apart from these two bits the show was interesting,
enjoyable and worthwhile, and the musicians were exceptional.
John, Gaz and I decided to go to
Urumqi together and to bring down the cost of the shared taxi an Italian called
Mario also jumped on board. The journey should have been only a couple of hours,
but the cab driver was being a cheap-skate trying to avoid the faster toll roads
we had agreed he would take, and Mario was profusely ill, which necessitated
several stops. He didn't really seem cut out for life on the road as most of
what we heard from him was moaning and groaning. As a result, by the time we got
to Urumqi, the buses to Tian Chi (Heavenly Lake), where John and I were headed
next were all gone. So we stayed the night in Urumqi. After getting a bite to
eat at Best Burger (a franchise owned by McDonalds, originally used to test the
Chinese fast food market now just a lower class fast food joint - yes, I know it
may sound incredible, but it is a lower class fast food joint.), we went to find
an internet cafe. After twenty minutes and a great deal of shouting we got a cab
to drop us in the right area of town, according to John's "Rough
Guide" however it took another half hour to find the actual place. A very
nice, cheap, quick, internet cafe. John decided with his Mandarin (which is
moderate, as he has been teaching in Shanghai for the past six months) to tell
the girls who ran the cafe they should advertise at the hotels as it took us
ages to find the place. After a little while they got us to write them an advert
complete with map, English and Chinese. In the evening we went around the night
market, got some dinner and then latterly found after all our efforts, there had
been an internet cafe one hundred metres just around the corner to our hotel all
along, bloody typical. At least I learned internet in Mandarin (Wong Ba - if you
care). So the following morning we got the bus to Tian Chi, after arriving we
then trekked a few kilometres around the lake to where some Yurts (Kazakh tents)
are to stay in. The scenery is very alpine with Spruce trees all around the lake
which is a jade green, rolling hills and further in the distance, snow capped
mountains. The yurts were surprisingly comfortable and the Kazakh people were
very hospitable and good fun. When we arrived there was a big American guy
(Vince) curing a horse skin from a horse that had just recently broken its leg
(and provided the meat in breakfast lunch and dinner), kids running about, women
cooking and working and guys riding horses and herding cattle and goats - all
very rustic and relaxing. The food wasn't bad but after a couple of days was
getting repetitive. With our relaxation done we all headed back to Urumqi, John
and to get our previously booked train to Dunhuang and Vince to head West
towards Pakistan. As we were almost back at the car park to get the bus, I
realised I had left the book I was reading in the Yurt so jogged back to get it.
After showing the folk there what I was looking for with sign language, I
couldn't find it anywhere and after a few minutes was giving up, but when I
emerged from my fruitless search of the Yurt, one of the women just held up her
and implying I should wait, went to the kitchen tent and emerged with my book,
albeit with the bookmark missing (I have actually had the book-mark since
Malaysia last year, so it was a little annoying), then I jogged back to the car
park, deciding on a short cut through the woods that didn't really seem to work.
So that evening after a couple of drinks John and I headed off on another
hard-sleeper to Dunhuang. Fortunately many of the passengers got off about half
way, so the journey was quiet, peaceful and I managed to sleep quite a bit.
Dunhuang is unfortunately very
much on the Chinese tourist trail which has made it trashier in points and also
made the locals greedy at times. Whilst I had a much needed shower and shave,
John went to see if he could get us booked on a train to Lanzhou for two days
time. He came back confident that the travel agent he had spoken to would
provide the tickets as promised the following day, for the day following that.
He had also met a couple of Japanese girls who were heading out to Mingsha Shan,
some massive sand dunes in the desert just outside town who wanted to share a
taxi. So we all went out to the desert.
Unfortunately, as previously
mentioned Dunhuang is firmly on the domestic tourist trail, so the approach to
the desert is flanked by tacky tourist stalls and touts and there is a wall
around the desert area (sounds unbelievable, but remember the Chinese are famous
for building long walls). Thinking the thirty Yuan (about 2.50GBP) entry fee was
rather exorbitant, we decided to sneak through a gap we found, unfortunately the
local constabulary was also aware of the gap, so one of them escorted us to the
ticket office to make sure we paid. This site was a prime example of what is
different about what Chinese tourists (and are Japanese friends) want. Very few
of them walked anywhere, but got camel rides or went in a tractor pulled train
to see the tacky constructions, whilst the international tourists trekked up the
massive dunes. The Chinese also found it rather amusing to throw all their waste
(bottles, bags, paper, etc.) down the dunes and watch it get buried in the sand,
which made a potentially beautiful site look at points like a rubbish tip, still
the views in most directions were lovely.
The following day, we went to
Mogao Caves, supposedly the best of the grottoes in China. These being caves
with a Buddhist statues, paintings, carvings and the like. The belligerent staff
refused to give the student discounts we were entitled to as we were foreign,
despite the fact that there were prices advertised for Chinese and foreign
students. I reluctantly paid up and got my guide. The caves were very
interesting in so far as they chronicled changes in artistic style over the
course of more than one thousand years, the earliest painting looking rather
Indian, whilst the later was definitely Chinese. The paintings, sculptures etc.
were also spared the ravages of the cultural revolution as the transport
connections were rather bad, back in the fifties. After seeing the site and
discussing the situation regarding the lack of student discount (that my fake
ISIC card entitles me to) with my guide, who agreed with my argument I decided
to press my case further. Unfortunately the Chinese, particularly those with any
modicum of power are notoriously racist. I decided though for the sake of future
travellers, on principle, and also as I had nothing to do that afternoon to make
the point as emphatically as possible. This involved going round all the offices
and shouting my point at anyone who might have any influence, I also managed to
learn a little Mandarin through repetition of my demands. By the end of my four
hour tirade the ticket office agreed to give all students the appropriate
discount, but would not refund me the difference in price for the ticket I had
bought that morning. Feeling a modicum of satisfaction I returned to Dunhuang.
To several beers and some chips, that we forgot to pay for. We then went to see
the travel agent John had placed his faith in. It would be an understatement to
say that he didn't inspire confidence, he couldn't even remember the fact that
we had asked for the tickets and was almost blind, when we showed him the
receipt he had given for the deposit paid the previous day he had to hold it
about an inch from the half inch thick glass that made his spectacles. He then
remembered
what he had promised and said he would have the tickets in a few minutes. After
half an hour of procrastination we decided that this Mole man was probably less
likely deliver our tickets than Readers Digest are to give their oft promised
major cash reward. We got our deposit back from him, and went off to make
alternative arrangements. After arranging the transport we went and had a nice,
cheap meal in the night market. So, the following day the first leg of the
journey to Lanzhou started with a bus to Jiayuguan. Upon arrival there we
managed to book ourselves on an overnight train for that evening to Lanzhou,
this time soft sleeper. As we had several hours spare we took the opportunity to
have a nice lunch and visit the fort that marks the end of the Great Wall. The
fort itself was moderately interesting (being heavily restored), but the setting
is dramatic, with mountains and desert surrounding it. Also, as Jiayuguan is not
so firmly on the domestic tourist trail the people were much friendlier and the
ambience was generally better than many other sites. John and I both took the
opportunity to shoot at some dummies in the archery range and the place made a
welcome break in the journey. After the train was going we decided to go to the
dining car to read and relax, but some stupid racist waitress decided we were
unwanted. When we tried to order tea, then beer, then food, in order to justify
our stay in the dining car she told us they didn't have any, despite the Chinese
customers around us eating and
drinking. Once again we decided to kick up a bit of a stink to make our point
known, which also gave us the opportunity to practise our Chinese. In the end
she got a PSB (Public Security Bureau - basically police) officer to half
heartedly tell us to leave. As we were leaving ten French tourists on an
organised tour came into the car, we explained that they were unlikely to get
much service from the racist staff, they decided to try anyway and most of them
were kicked out two minutes later for no apparent reason. The rest of the
journey was less dramatic and more enjoyable. Two young Chinese girls decided to
chat with us to try and practice their English and we used them to learn some
Mandarin. That night I slept like a log and woke up only just before we pulled
into Lanzhou.
We weren’t staying in Lanzhou,
but were merely passing through to get to Xiahe. We did however take the
opportunity to sort some things out and have some great food. We then managed to
get a bus for the five hour journey to Xiahe. The journey started odd and got
odder. After an hour long delay the bus finally left, but as John and I had not
purchased "insurance" (actually a waiver of liability to the Gansu and
Chinese government that runs the buses) we had to hide under with a coat wrapped
over us until we were out of town. Then after a couple of hours we came to a
traffic jam in a small village. Seeing that all the transport ahead of us was
stopped for some distance, we decided to walk down to see what had happened. It
turned out that a bus had hit and killed a sixteen year old boy who was crossing
the road. The body being covered with a blanket and a small impromptu awning.
The delay being caused by the fact that the bus driver was now liable for 30,000
Yuan to the victims family, nearly 2,500 GBP - about three years salary. Also
this being China the officials all had to get involved and both PSB and
government officers were arriving over the course of the five hours we were held
up for. There was however a positive side to the delay. We being Laowai (white
folk) were quite a novelty in this little village and in no time we had quite a
following of both young and old. It was also a great opportunity to take a
number of photos of some really characterful faces. A couple of Tibetans who
spoke good English kept us company and helped us find some food and were
generally interesting to talk with. When the traffic
eventually did move on it was half past ten. It took more than another two and a
half hours to arrive in Xiahe, and the town was totally dead. The bus staff
showed us a place to stay and then left, what he didn't now was that the guest
house had an eleven o'clock curfew, so we could not get in or even rouse
somebody. We got out the guide books to find somewhere else and it was rather
odd, as whilst we were looking for somewhere there were Tibetan monks gliding
about and lurking in the darkness in their burgundy robes, rather eerie. We
eventually found somewhere and woke the guy running the place, there were only
two beds left, one in a room with an Italian - that John took, and the plank
with a blanket in the office that I took from the guy we'd woken. I slept
surprisingly well, and was only woken when at six this morning they came to
start the business day, at seven they found me a proper bed where I managed to
get a little more sleep and then we left as the place was rather run down, but
they got us out of a spot at the time. So we moved to a nicer more backpacker
place, for a little more money, but much more comfy and it actually has
bathrooms, albeit shared. After settling in their for a while, we wandered
around the Tibetan part of town (Xiahe, although now in Gansu province was part
of Tibet until the Chinese occupation. It is also the seat of the third most
important Lama (whose name I currently forget, but recently escaped to
Dharamsala in India) in Tibetan Buddhism). John decided to trek into the hills
and I went for a wander round the prayer wheels that form a circle around the
Tibetan part of town, met a monk and tried to teach him to count in English and
was invited back to his place. Although he speaks no English, little Mandarin
and my Mandarin is extremely basic, we managed to muddle a conversation that
covered how he finds it difficult to learn English, which he is currently
learning from tapes and books (the Chinese government does not allow Tibetans to
be taught English in school, the official justification being they already have
two languages, Tibetan and Mandarin, if they were allowed to learn a third it
would be unfair.), how at twenty eight he has been a monk for six years and
wants to see the Dalai Lama, the oppression of Tibetans by the Chinese and
finally an invite for lunch for John and I tomorrow. He also played some music,
made some tea and Tu Dou Si (garlic potatoes).
That has brought you up to date
with most of what has gone on, as to my feelings on China, they are mixed. The
ethnic Chinese are generally nice enough but are extremely racist against the
minorities here and generally to a lesser degree western people, something which
is supported by the government. Those in positions of even limited power are
usually lazy as they almost invariably achieved their positions through Ganxi
(connections, nepotism), they have the most polluted places in the world, the
accommodation is comparatively expensive and the places of interest are often
prohibitively expensive. There is a positive side however. There are some
fascinating sites, beautiful landscapes and interesting cultures. It is just
that in this place more than most one must take the rough with the smooth.
Anyway that's me done for the while, once again it seems I have to remind many
of you to write, as I haven't heard from a lot of you for some time.
____________________
Several of you have commented on the epic length of the previous newsletter,
well you can't say I don't try and keep you posted of what's been going on. I do
and will try to mail more regularly to try and keep the length down for my sake
and yours.
Taking up where I left off in
Xiahe, as mentioned in the previous mail I was invited back to the monk I met's
place for lunch the following day. John and I went along to a basic meal of tea,
bread, tea, water-melon and a lot more tea, and some strained conversation. We
were then invited to another monks quarters which had a poster of the Chinese
football squad on the wall, apparently he's a big footy fan and he and the monks
quite enjoy kicking a ball about.
Later that afternoon John,
Geraint (a Welsh guy) and I did the full circle of the prayer wheels which takes
about three hours, including visiting some temples en-route. Then Geraint and I
had a wander round the monastery, quite interesting with some nice architecture
in places. It was all rather tranquil until we came across a couple of young
monks fighting the younger of the two (who looked about fifteen or sixteen) was
throwing small stones quite violently at the other monk (who appeared to be two
or three years his senior). The older of the two was throwing stones back it
seemed to keep the younger one at bay. The younger one then ran into the temple
and re-emerged with a broom which he started beating the older one with, after a
minute or so the older one managed to wrest it from him, whereupon he went back
into the temple re-emerging with an eight foot lead pipe which he was smacking
the other with. Again the older monk managed to wrest this from his grasp, as
the older one went into the temple the younger picked up a big rock which he
threw at the other, we couldn't see whether or not it hit but there was a
definite groan from behind the temple walls. The older monk then tried to lock
the younger in the temple but couldn't, eventually some more senior monks calmed
the situation down a bit, but the younger monk kept shouting at his adversary,
and I'm pretty sure he wasn't reciting sutras. Just goes to show there must be
different paths to nirvana.
After having a look round more
of the monastery we then saw an examination, whereby a monk trying to go up a
rung in the hierarchy recites sutras by rote in front of a large audience, if he
makes any mistakes they all laugh at him. The monk in question seemed not to get
anything wrong as nobody even tittered whilst we were watching. The next stop
after Xiahe was Langmusi, a small Tibetan village. We arrived there about
midday, heard about a good place for a Yak burger (Lesha's) and ended up there
drinking and eating until late. Lesha, a nutty Tibetan and her husband Tony a
6"6'giant kept us well fed and entertained. We then went to a
"Disco" which involved a VCD player, playing cheesy tracks in
someone’s living room whilst Tibetans danced badly, a different take on the
night club theme.
The following morning I got up early and myself and a couple of Israeli girls
trekked up the hill behind the village where we heard there would be a sky
burial. We waited and chatted for an hour or so, when the rest of the mob from
town turned up, the girls then left deciding it wasn't going to happen. The rest
of us decided to wander over to where a tractor had pulled up near some prayer
flags. I checked the trailer, there was nothing in it, the ten or so men who'd
ridden up in it got a fire going and started drinking beer. A couple of their
crew were busy getting the fire going, chopping wood for it. We noticed they'd
been working on one log for quite a while (between drinks), it was only when one
of them lifted a grey hand, his accomplice swung his axe into the armpit and the
first threw the arm over his shoulder that we realised that it wasn't a log, but
the corpse of what we later established to be a twenty-four year old girl who'd
died of a "bad head" (could mean anything). They proceeded to chop off
each of the limbs and head in the same sort of manner as previously described.
They then wrapped the head in a coat and smashed it using the back of the axe.
From then on they just hacked away at the various parts, breaking from time to
time to have a cigarette and some beer, which they offered us as well. In the
end they just jumped back on the tractor and went back down the hill, rather
drunk. We went to inspect the remains, careful not to tread on bits of the
deceased. It wasn't actually too gruesome, although the smell was horrific. The
buzzards that had gathered "in order to take the body the body to
heaven" didn't seem too peckish, probably because there had been another
sky burial the previous day. We decided after a while to leave them to their
dinner and Geraint and I went to Lesha's to have a Yak burger, and once again
ended up staying there until the small hours.
The following day, Geraint and I
went to Lesha’s for a coffee and were planning afterwards to walk twenty
minutes up the road to look at a religious cave. Mike (a Kiwi) said he'd join us
so after our breakfast we set off for the short walk. The cave was nice, small
with prayer flags and offering all over. We then decided to go for a short walk
up through the valley behind it. We decided to climb up to a vantage point from
where we not only disturbed some young lovers, but could see quite some way to
what looked like nice countryside, complete with paths. After walking uphill for
a short while the path ran out, but we decided to carry on, then the undergrowth
got thicker and thicker until we had to push our way through rhododendrons and
thick heather. Eventually reaching the top of that mountain, we realised that
what we thought was the top was a long way from it, despite only having my
sandals on, I agreed we should press on, by the end we'd run out of water as we
reached several false bluffs, eventually getting to the top of the tallest peak
around. Mike had an altimeter accurate to 4,000 metres, that stopped working by
the time we'd got to that point. As we were out of water we were pleased to
start the descent, en-route I twisted my ankle (again) but we were fortunate
enough to find some wild strawberries, we managed to get back to Lesha's in one
piece, although absolutely shattered, but with a sense of satisfaction from our
six and a half hour slog, wit me vowing never to go anywhere with Mike without
my walking boots on.
From Langmusi five of us decided
to get a jeep to Songpan, however on the way the jeep had a flat tyre and as the
spare was also shot, the driver tried to fix it with two pick axes, two
screwdrivers, a hatchet and a bit of super-glue. We could tell that the prospect
of this working was limited so we sent the girls off to Songpan with a family
who we pulled over. As the mad drivers ideas continued to get more mental we
flagged down a bus to take the three of us remaining to Songpan. The driver
objected to us leaving him and threw a fit, getting us kicked off the bus. We
flagged down another gave the jeep driver a bit of money for how far he had got
us and told him what he could do to himself. I'm still curious to know whether
or not he ever made it out of there. Upon arrival John and I arranged for a
three day horse trek to leave the following morning.
So as you no doubt gathered we
set off the following morning on our horses. As we set out the heavens opened,
fortunately the guide had ponchos for us. We rode for about three or four hours
to our first camp, near a waterfall. We pitched the tent which John and I
sheltered in whilst the guide somehow got a fire going. We had tea and slightly
cooked salad and read waiting for the rain to retreat, which it eventually did.
The guide then gave John directions on how we could reach the waterfall, so we
set off on the path which was pretty easy to follow as there were no forks and
when we came to a clearing I managed to find the path continuing on the other
side. After continuing for about an hour and a half and becoming more and more
disillusioned with our route and having got so wet from the dripping brush, we
suddenly heard some shouting from behind us, the guide came bounding towards us
and managed to tell us we were in completely the wrong place. He then led us
pretty much straight down the mountain side on to a path back to our camp. John
had chosen the wrong path leading out from camp, hence the fact that we seemed
to be constantly climbing uphill. The guide made some good curry and we cooked
our wet clothes over the fire wrapped up in nice warm yak jackets.
The following morning it was a nice day, so we set off to see the waterfall with
the guide and horse in tow, just to make sure we got there. The waterfall was
very pretty, cascading over a series or rock for about a hundred and fifty feet.
We also sent Nutter, the name we'd given the guide, to get us some beer for the
evening. We then set off for a lake where we were to camp the following night,
arriving within a couple of hours. Nutter made some lunch and we chilled out in
the tranquil surroundings. At one point some yaks invaded the camp, but were
easily shooed away. John and I decided we wanted a raging inferno for a camp
fire that evening so went off to find some good firewood. Nutter who had been
sleeping with the horses, decided to do it his way, which involved climbing a
tree and hacking its branches off. We went back had dinner and nutter built the
fire up to a ridiculous height. He then got drunk on one and a half beers whilst
John and I played at pyromaniacs.
The following day we set off
early to get back to Songpan, which didn't take too long but we were rather
tired by the time we arrived. We had some lunch and checked into a hotel, then I
went and e-mailed you, which is right now. So once again you are up to date.
________________________
Just a brief note to say what I've been up to recently.
Basically since arriving in
Chengdu, where I am about to leave (after nearly three weeks), I have spent most
of the time at Paul's Oasis, a bar/cafe, with a number of recently made friends.
The excursions and sights seen
have been limited (unlike the beers). The first thing I did was to go and see
the Wenshu monastery, not very interesting, then to Renmin park to go on an odd
train ride through the former bomb shelters. The train is glass panelled and the
tunnel has numerous peculiar clay models of cavemen, ET, small elephants, large
walruses, alien creatures and the like - all very badly crafted, very amusing.
The next thing I went to see was
the Pandas, which was fun especially when the babies were pulling each other out
the trees and dropping on each others heads - looked kind of like the Ewoks in
star wars. Last excursion was to Leshan to see an incredibly big Buddha.
Apparently seventy two metres, and that's when he's sitting down. Another
interesting site, made so in part by the folks I went with (Annie - from the USA
and Mauro - from Argentina). Otherwise, it has generally been relaxing, about
ten days ago Khapre and Wendy (a Kiwi couple) gave me there spare room to use so
I didn't waste money on a hotel, Wendy has been very good, feeding me and when I
awoke in the afternoons having a hot coffee ready for me - part of the reason it
has been difficult to leave.
Anyway, five in the morning
tomorrow I am on my way to Lhasa, Tibet. So, it was unanimously decided that we
should spend the night drinking at Paul’s until the bus is ready to take me
away.
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