The Most Beautiful Highway I've Ever Seen

It’s been an interesting few days.  The “dorm” room I’ve been staying in at the Qini Bagh Hotel (on the grounds of the old British consulate) has three beds.  When I arrived on Thursday, one bed was free (the other two taken by myself and the Israeli guy I’d met in Turpan).  That night a guy from Canada took the third bed, and he, the Israeli guy, two British girls, and four French guys had all made plans to go to Karakul Lake the next morning.  I was out exploring at the time, but when I got back I asked to join them, and figured that I’d wake up a little earlier in the morning to go buy my bus ticket.  (I should at this point mention that arranged tours to Karakul Lake run about Y700, but that there is a Y30 public bus that goes there as well.  Unfortunately, the kebabs that I’d eaten on Thursday evening didn’t quite agree with me, and I found that heading out early the next morning wasn’t going to be possible.  Since there was only one bus each day (leaving at 9:30am Beijing time), I took my time in the morning, and then went out on my own exploring again.

I first got a little light food, and then went to the bus station to buy a ticket for the next day.  Because I was a bit tired, I took a taxi, and had him drop my off a couple blocks away (I always like to walk a little, even if I ride a taxi most of the way—otherwise you don’t see much).  As chance would have it, he dropped me off right in front of an elementary school right as class was letting out for recess.  The children, who’ve all been studying English (sort of) in class, took the opportunity to yell “CHELLO!!!” at me.  When I got to the bus station, I bought my ticket for the next morning to Karakul, and then was approached by a small middle-older aged French woman, who’d obviously been having troubles buying a ticket and had heard me speaking Chinese.  I could tell she wanted my help buying a ticket, so I translated for her.  Part of the problem was that the ticket saleslady didn’t really seem sure of the ticket she wanted even though she acted as though she did.  This French woman wanted a ticket to the next town on the Silk Road for Sunday afternoon.  The ticket saleswoman first told me that there was only one bus on Sunday and that you could only purchase it the day before.  I clarified a few times, and explained to the woman, who asked about other times.  For the sake of it, I asked about Monday.  She said that there was a bus every hour on Monday.  So I reconfirmed, “Monday there’s a bus every hour, but Sunday there’s only one bus?”  The lady thought for a moment and said, “no, there’s a bus every hour on Sunday too, but you can only buy tickets on Sunday.”  Had I not clarified so many times, I’d have thought that I’d misunderstood the first time, but I really think she was just unsure.  I explained the situation to the French woman, who thanked me, and then I headed back out towards the Old Town to explore.

At some point, I wandered past a ticket booth without realizing it.  A Uighur girl (probably about my age) came after me, and explained in Chinese and English (together) that to enter this portion of the Old Town I needed to buy an entrance ticket.  I asked how much it was, and if they had a student discount.  They did, and she offered me a free tour, so I accepted and paid for the Y15 student ticket.  She showed me a couple mosques, some traditional homes, a carpet “factory” (where she told me that it takes 6 girls 7 years to complete a large carpet by hand!!!) , and explained some aspects of traditional Uighur life.  Since she gave me the tour mostly in Chinese, I was happy that I was able to understand most of it.  She said she was impressed that I knew Chinese and English, but I said, “What about you?  You speak Uighur, Chinese, and English.”  She modestly added that she’d been studying Japanese and German on the side to be a better tour guide.  So I told her she had no right to be impressed by me.  We talked for a while about the differences between families in America and in Kashgar, and then I thanked her and headed back out.

By this time I was very tired, very thirsty, and a little hungry.  So, I set out in search of the same café I’d thought had been removed for new construction the day before.  Since the maps in the Lonely Planet guide aren’t that detailed, I thought I might have made a mistake.  Indeed I had, walking a bit farther, I found Indy’s Café down a side street.  So, I got an iced coffee, some walnut cake, and wrote for a while, escaping the heat.  Then I went back into the Old Town and found a traditional Uighur musical instrument factory, where I sat with the owner as he played all the instruments for me (violin-like, guitar-like, clarinet-like, tambourine-like, etc. instruments), and I tried to reproduce the intriguing sounds he’d made (to no avail).  I asked about prices and cases, and decided that while I’d love to have one, I really had no way of bringing one back to Beijing, let alone back to the States.

After that I headed back towards the hotel, and since my stomach had settled down a fair bit since the morning, I ate at a Pakistani restaurant, which was very good.  (Since Kashgar is relatively close to Pakistan, I figured it’d be worth a try.)  With the Canadian and Israeli guys out at Karakul Lake, the two other beds in my room were replaced by a German guy, who’d been studying in Finland, and his Finnish friend, both of whom spoke English.  We talked a bit, and the German guy had unfortunately been a bit more unlucky than myself in eating, and spent a fair deal of the night by the toilet.  I departed early the next morning for Karakul.  The road to Karakul is the Karakoram Highway, which eventually goes through the Khunjerab Pass into Pakistan.  The ride to Karakul, which isn’t quite that far, took about 5.5 hours and was amazing.  After a lunch break in a small town, we encountered fields of boulders set against low mountains of all different colors, before cutting through a river canyon, running strong with melting snow water.  A Chinese couple from Henan, who I’d been talking to for a bit, pointed out our first sight of the brilliantly white snow-capped mountains of the Pamir range.  Then we arrived at a Chinese checkpoint, with big signs saying “NO PHOTOGRAPHY”, and we were all asked to get off the bus.  I showed them my passport, walked through the checkpoint, and got back on the bus on the other side.  Then we continued through the canyon, ascending up into the mountains as we went.  A n hour or two later we came out of the canyon into a big lake-centered plateau, encircled by magnificent mountains of sand (rippling surreally in the sunlight below the perfectly blue sky with big fluffy white clouds).  We wound around the water, and continued on for another hour or so. 

After a while, the bus stopped and the driver yelled “Karakul!” in Uighur.  I got off and found a local by the road.  I negotiated with him to stay in his yurt by the lake for the night with a few meals included.  So, he led me to his yurt and gave me some tea and bread, while we talked a bit.  I asked what minority group he belonged to, and he informed me that he and all the people in this area were Kyrgyz, and that a few hours more on the highway and I’d encounter lots of Tajik people.  The lake itself was not very large, but was truly amazing.  It was definitely the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen in my life.  The water in the afternoon light reflected like a mirror the blue sky and the grand display of white mountains beyond it, crowned by Muztagh Ata (the second highest mountain of the northern edge of the Tibetan Plateau).  Wanting to mix it up a bit, I hired a motorcycle, and rode around the whole lake on footpaths in about 45 minutes.  This being my first time on a motorcycle, I was stupid and wore shorts, burning my leg on the motor.  Still, it was a fun experience.  Around the lake are herds of sheep, yaks, horses, and camels, making for some interesting sights.  When I got back to the yurt, I met a Spanish couple who was also staying with this Kyrgyz family.  They were from Barcelona, and were both school teachers (having taken a year off for sabbatical), he a high school biology teacher and she a elementary school special-needs teacher.  After that, they went for a horse ride, while I decided to hike a bit.  Wanting to change into jeans, it was at this point that I realized I had somewhere lost the keys to the locks on my bag.  So, I went back to the yurt, and asked them for help.  We used two big rocks and a pair of pliers and managed to get them open.  Waiting for dinner, I hiked about an hour out around and past the lake until I was sufficiently alone (there weren’t many tourists there at all—I counted only ten including myself the whole time I was there), found a big rock sat done, and wrote, read, and thought for a while.

Then I headed back in for dinner with the Kyrgyz family and the Spanish couple.  The meal was good, and then we talked a bit.  I translated for the Spanish couple from Chinese into English, while we Spanish tried to pick up a bit of the Kyrgyz language.  Since the family I was staying with had a few yurts, we talked for a couple hours, and then headed to the ones we’d be sleeping in (the Spanish couple had one to themselves, and so did I).  I settled down a bit, and was making a bed for myself, when two men from a nearby village came and said that I had to buy an entrance ticket to the lake for Y50.  I thought an entrance ticket to a lake was a bit absurd, so I questioned them about it, and seeing no way around, asked if they had student tickets.  He examined my student ID, and said he’d have to come back in the morning with the student tickets.  After that, locked the “door” from the inside, read for an hour or so by candlelight, and then went to sleep.

At some point in the night I was awoken by a knocking.  In such a strange place, I immediately awoke, but was still not quite awake.  I stumbled to the door, waking up, and seeing that it was still dark out.  It was the youngest brother of the Kyrgyz family, telling me in Chinese that two people were here.  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but I opened the door.  It turned out there had been two backpackers who’d just been let out of a bus by the lake, and needed a place to stay.  I checked the time finding that it was nearly 2:00am Beijing time.  He apologized for the intrusion and for waking me up, and I said it was no problem, introducing myself sleepily to the backpackers.  It turned out they had come into China that day from Pakistan, and their bus had been chased down an hour or so after the border and asked to return for a more thorough inspection.  So, they were late getting to the lake.  The woman said she was from Vancouver, while the man was from the Netherlands, and they were traveling together.  I said goodnight and went back to sleep.

I woke up in the morning to find that the woman from Vancouver was already awake (while the man from the Netherlands was still sleeping—she said it was better to let him sleep), so we talked for a bit and walked over to the family’s main yurt for some tea and bread.  Since the bus back to Kashgar wasn’t expected for a few hours, and the Kyrgyz guy told me it was possible there might not even be any seats on it, I paid them for the night, grabbed my bag, went out to the road, and hitched a ride back to Kashgar.  (I made it away before the two men from the night before returned with the entrance tickets. :))  Hitchhiking in this part of China is still a primary means of transportation, and isn’t free (you’re expected to negotiate a price with the driver).  So, I paid the man Y40 for the 5 hour trip back to Kashgar (which turned out to only be a 4 hour trip in his pickup truck).  Along the way, we picked up a guy in camo and dropped him off at the checkpoint from the day before. 

Back in Kashgar, I asked the hotel facilities to help me remove the locks on my other bag, and then went out to buy my bus ticket to Hotan for the next day, some new locks, and stopped in a pharmacy to get some cream for the burn on my leg.  Then I went back to Indy’s Café, where I’m currently writing this entry.  All in all, it’s been an interesting few days.  Tomorrow morning I’ll get up to go to the big Sunday Market outside the Old Town in Kashgar, explore a little bit more, and then take an overnight bus to Hotan, leaving at 9:30pm Beijing time.  My other friends who were supposed to meet me in Kashgar bailed out because the plane ticket was too expensive, and my one friend who was considering going the rest of the way with me decided to visit her family in southern China instead.  Anyway, I’m meeting lots of people, and having amazing experiences.  The US consulate says there shouldn’t be any earthquake related problems outside of Sichuan, and other travelers have told me their trips near the areas I’ll be going to were pretty smooth, so I think it’ll be okay.  I’m not sure of the next time I’ll have an internet connection, but I’ll try to keep up with posts.

Xinjiang: It ain't Beijing... (But it's still China)

I woke up early on Saturday morning and met one of my friends to head out to Wudaokou to eat a western breakfast at Lush (I got eggs and coffee, mmmmm…).  Then we went over to Zhongguancun, the technology area, to shop around a bit.  (I was considering buying a new camera for my trip, and she needed a digital voice recorder to do interviews for her research).  After an hour or so, we both decided we could wait, and then left heading in the direction of Wangfujing (where the night market is), to visit the bookstore there and the flagship Beijing Olympics store.  After a slightly too pricey lunch, she realized she really did need a recorder, and headed back to Zhongguancun, while I headed to the Forbidden City (having not made it there all semester).  The Forbidden City (the Imperial palace) lies just beyond the North gate of Tian’anMen Square.  I entered in this way, under the giant picture of Chairman Mao, past all the tourist-trap vendors, flashing my student ID for the discount price, and entering with my guidebook and camera in hand.  I made it about half way through (the Forbidden City is HUGE), and was really starting to enjoy it when my camera broke.  Knowing that I had to leave for Xinjiang first thing the next morning, I decided I too had to rush back to Zhongguancun.  So, I bolted back through the Forbidden City, back under the picture of Chairman Mao, away from Tian’anMen Square, and into the first taxi that would take me in my sweaty condition. 

This taxi driver was a particularly interesting one.  (Having a conversation with the taxi drivers is an excellent way to practice your Chinese, and learn about Chinese people.)  We started our conversation about sports, and somehow started talking about driving, and then taxes.  He told me that he had been driving a taxi since he was 19.  He was now 46.  He told me how much he disliked the Chinese government, and how he’d love to go to America (labeling it the lesser of two evils), and I quietly agreed.  It’s always surprising when a Chinese person is willing to tell you how they really feel about the government, but I guess driving a taxi every day for 27 years will do that to you.

I woke up Sunday morning at 4:30 am, packed all of my stuff, and found a taxi to the airport.  The flight was a bit unwieldy (really not too bad at 4 hours), and the weather in Urumqi when I arrived was slightly cloudy.  I think the best way for me to describe Xinjiang might be to quote my Lonely Planet China guide.  (I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but the Lonely Planet China guide is the premier guide for traveling in China, can’t be found in Chinese bookstores because of government censorship, and is sometimes confiscated at checkpoints—while traveling, I guard it like the Bible).  In any case, Lonely Planet China has this to say about Xinjiang:

“Xinjiang means ‘New Frontier’ and the province’s far-flung geography has placed it in the bull’s eye of competing powers for centuries. Fiercely independent, the people of the region have never really been independent.  Today, Xinjiang ‘belongs’ to China, having been inextricably tethered to the Middle Kingdom for centuries in an endless push-pull relationship, one which China today  maintains in strict form.

Xinjiang is like a whole other country enclosed within China’s borders.  Here the language is not just a different dialect, it’s a completely different linguistic family; and it’s no longer whether you dip your dumplings in soy sauce or vinegar, it’s how you want your mutton cooked.

What lies within such desolate lands that motivates faraway Beijing?  A thumbnail sketch: it’s larger than Alaska (one-sixth of China’s territory); hyper-rich with Silk Road history; populated by a mixed salad of nearly 50 ethnic minorities; geopolitically crucial, as it borders eight nations; and encompasses a geographical palette of shimmering desert aquarelles, taiga pastureland dotted with flocks of sheep and grand mountain ranges.  Oh, and it sits atop 30% of China’s oil reserves.”

Assuming my trip plays out as I’ve planned, I will make my way from Urumqi in north-central Xinjiang, down towards the Taklaman desert to Turpan, and around following the Northern Silk Road towards Kashgar, towards Tajikstan to take in the amazing views of Karakul Lake, then back into Kashgar, before setting out on the Southern Silk Road all the way through the southern portion of the Taklaman desert, into Qinghai province via mountain passes, then to Xining in eastern Qinghai, visiting Qinghai Lake, into Gansu province visiting Dunhuang (maybe), Xiahe, and Lanzhou, and finally to Xi’an (where the Terracotta Warriors are), and back up to Beijing—taking me all the way across the country, covering a distance of over 3,600 miles in about 2.5 to 3 weeks.

As I said, the weather in Urumqi was cloudy when I arrived at 11:45 am.  Xinjiang, however, is geographically two time zones away from Beijing, but the Chinese government insists on having only one time zone for the whole country.  So, Xinjiang people have two times, Beijing (or official) time and local time.  This 11:45 weather (really being 9:45) just turned out to be morning clouds.  I made some phone calls, found a hostel, and headed out to put my stuff down.  The hostel, which was a bit north of the city center, was nice enough, and reasonable cheap.  My next task was to get to the bus station to buy my ticket to Turpan for the next morning.  I took public transportation, and got off a few stops away to walk and enjoy the city.  On my way, I grabbed a bagel (yes, that’s right, they have bagels!!!), some chuanr (kebabs), and an icy Pepsi.  One Uighur (local Muslim people) girl ran up to me, counted to ten in English and ran away.  I was definitely not in Beijing anymore.  Chinese faces seemed to be beat out by Uighur faces, and mustaches were all the rave.

When I got to the bus station, I found that my trek out had been in vain, since buses to Turpan run every 30 minutes and tickets are sold only the day of.  So, I walked back outside, my Lonely Planet in the side pocket of my bag, with my camera and Pepsi in hand.  Pulling out my Lonely Planet, I replaced it with my Pepsi and camera, and stood there trying to figure out where to go next.  The next thing I knew, I felt something at my back, and turned around just in time to see two men, one running across the street.  I felt for my camera (which I had just bought the day before), and found that it was missing.  I grabbed the one man, pushed him against a wall, and padded him down, letting him go to run after the other, across the intersection, dodging cars.  I caught up with him, held him down, and padded him down, but he didn’t have my camera either.  Obviously, they’d already handed it off.  I cursed at the man, yelling, punched him in the stomach, and let him go, finding a policeman standing nearby.  Unfortunately, he didn’t want to help.  So, I trolled the market near the station, examining all of the stolen cameras, with a look of extreme anger, scaring more than one vendor with my gaze.  I finally settled into the fact that my camera was gone, and that it had been my own fault for being so careless, and moved on.  What’s more, they stole my Pepsi, as well.  My only consolation is that I’m getting off of a cold—so, maybe they’ll drink my Pepsi and then get sick. J

By this point, a group of my friends from Beijing, who had planned a different trip through northern Xinjiang had arrived in Urumqi.  So, I tracked them down, and drank some beer with them in a park, being ever more vigilant about my belongings.  We walked around for a while, and got dinner at a Caribbean restaurant (which somehow had made its way to Urumqi), and then I said goodbye to them as they headed back to the airport for another flight.  At this point, I walked around a bit more, and then found a Carrefour, at which I bought a new (cheap) camera.  Then, went back to the hostel.  The dorm room I was in, had two girls there when I went back, one from England and one from California/Hawaii, who’d both been studying for the year in Hong Kong.  We made introductions, and decided to go together to a night market in the city.  We split the cab fare, and sat to eat at a Uighur barbecue stand, ordering beef, chicken, and vegetables doused in spices.  (Since Urumqi is literally the farthest place in the world from an ocean, we skipped the seafood.)  We walked around a little, got some traditional ice cream, and went back to the hostel.

In the morning, I said goodbye to the girls from Hong Kong, took care of some errands, and went back to the bus station.  I hopped on the first bus to Turpan, getting there in the early afternoon.  The ride from Urumqi to Turpan is interesting, first encountering fields and fields of electricity-generating windmills, set against snow-capped mountains, then dried salt lakes, down through cliffs, and into the city.  In Xinjiang, you can generally wave down any bus and hop on.  This happened a number of times, the last time as we entered the city by a whiter looking man, with combed back hair, and a calm look.  He didn’t pay as the others had, took a look around, and then sat in front of me.  He turned to me, and in nearly perfect English said, “Hello.  Are you here to see the sites?  How long are you staying?”  Startled, I responded in Chinese.  He continued in English, “do you have a hotel?”  I finally gave in, and talked to him in English. His job was to find the tourists, and arrange tours for them. 

Because I knew public transportation was a hassle in Turpan, I listened to what he had to say.  He offered to get me a hotel room with air-conditioning and a shower for Y70 (around $10).  I asked to see the room, and he took me around the corner into a hotel.  (The advertised price was Y200.)  I looked at the room, was satisfied, and said I was short on cash, and couldn’t pay any more than Y60.  He called the desk to ask them, and said that as long as I promised not to tell any other tourists, he’d agree.  I promised, and sat to talk to him about hiring a driver for the day.  I told him where I wanted to go, he told me it could be done in one day (where I had originally planned two), and we negotiated a price.  A little nervous about the room, I locked my bag, and put a chair on the inside of the door, and went to by a bus ticket to Kashgar for the next day.

My driver was a 38 year-old local man, with two kids.  Since it was an hour drive out to my first stop, we talked a bit.  He asked about my family and my hobbies, and I asked about his.  He said he used to like to race cars, but now he was 38, and didn’t have time for hobbies.  I asked him if he had any other jobs, and he said “no.”  So, I asked what he did when there were no tourists.  He said, “when there’re no tourists, I’m still waiting for tourists.”  I indirectly asked what he thought of the government, and he said that the Chinese government’s policies were all in the best interest of the people.  We talked about school and traffic cops, and finally made it to Tuyoq, a grape-producing village in a valley in the Flaming Mountains.  The temperature was a dry 42 degrees Celsius (that’s only about 108 degrees Fahrenheit), so I bought a lot of water, and went exploring through the village, bought some raisins (the grapes were out of season), and climbed up into the mountains a bit.  Then, went back to my driver, and headed back towards Turpan, and out to Jiaohe.  Jiaohe is an ancient city that is said to be one of the world’s largest, oldest, and most well-preserved ancient cities.  Indeed, it was large and well-preserved.  I spent an hour or so navigating the ancient streets, and then departed, paid my driver and went back to the hotel. 

Then, I set back out to find some food.  I found a huge square with a big fountain/light show, talked to some vendors, and sat down for some cold noodles.  Then, I found an internet bar, checked my e-mail and went back to the hotel, and went to sleep.  At 6:30 am (Beijing Time), I got a phone call from the English speaking man from the day before saying, “We’re waiting for you, where are you?”  I instinctively responded in Chinese, “What?  Why?  What’s going on?”  He sounded confused, said “Okay, okay” and hung up.  I’m assuming he was trying to call another number, because I went back to sleep, and didn’t get up until 10:00.  I packed my bag, and went downstairs to find some food.  As I exited the lobby, I saw a friend of mine from Beijing standing outside with two other foreigners negotiating with a tour guide.  I walked up, and he was just as shocked to see me.  We compared itineraries and agreed that we might be able to meet up for a little in Kashgar.  Then, I walked a bit, found a Uighur food market, sat down for some soup with dumplings, bought some dried fruit, some water, went back to get my bag, and headed to the bus station.  The bus to Kashgar will take me some 26 hours.  It is a non-air-conditioned sleeper bus.  In the station, I made an Israeli guy, arguing with one of the officials in English.  I went over to help, and introduced myself.  He had flown into Bangkok, Thailand, and was traveling all throughout Asia.  We boarded the bus and headed out.

The 26 hour bus ride was pleasant enough.  I wrangled up a bottom window bed in the front, going most of the way with the window open, enjoying the scenery and the mostly fresh air.  The bus would stop every hour or so to pick someone up, and every few hours for a snack and bathroom break.  My electronic dictionary with my music on it died about 5 hours in, so I resorted to playing solitaire, writing a bit (though the bumps made this difficult), and reading up on Kashgar.  Around 7:00 am Beijing time, the driver woke me up suddenly.  Saying “huan che, huan che!”  (change vehicles!).  Anyone who was in Yunnan with me will know that my immediate response was “weishenme?”  (why?).  It turns out that the bus had decided to cut across the desert to Hotan, exchanging myself, the Israeli traveler, and one other man (we being the only three heading towards Kashgar) to another bus.  And when I say “exchange”, I mean that there was actually money involved in getting the other driver to accept us.  What’s more, there was no room underneath for our bags.  So, the already small bed, became even smaller with my pack on it.  And, my nice lower window bed became a middle upper bed.  So, the last leg was a bit rough, but I made it through alright.  Arriving in Kashgar, that Israeli traveler and I split a cab to a hotel situated on the grounds of the old British consulate.  The “dorm” room turned out to be an old hotel room with two beds and a cot, a broken shower and toilet, and only one key for three people.  Still, it was Y35 (not that bad).  So, I’ll make do.

Kashgar is the farthest possible Chinese city from Beijing (as far as I’ve been able to discern).  It is a Muslim city, that could easily in parts be mistaken for Baghdad (10 years ago), besides the cooperation of Chinese script with the local script on signs.  Women not only cover their arms and legs, but their faces as well with brown scarves.  The men wear slacks rolled up about 6 inches to show their socks (or stockings) and “leather” shoes, with button-down work shirts and suspenders and a cap.  Still, the city is unmistakably Chinese—signs boasting the upcoming Olympic Games in Beijing are plentiful, and the city center is a place called People’s Square laid out in front of a giant statue of Chairman Mao.  The park that corresponds, “People’s Park”, is a somewhat depressing, unkempt park, with small amusement rides for children scattered throughout.

I tried to find the café listed in my Lonely Planet book, but it’s apparently been removed for construction.  I’ll explore the Old Town for a day or so, wait for my friends to arrive, and then head towards Tajikstan to see Karakul Lake, before heading back on the southern Silk Road.  I’m enjoying my freedom—not having anyone to report to but myself, and I’m looking forward to the rest of my trip.

 Click here to see a map of my trip

Well, it's over... what next?

What’s next?!?!?!?!?  I’ve gone from plan A to plan B, and now to plan C for what to do after the end of my program.  Originally, I had planned to ride the train from Beijing into Tibet, and then trek around Tibet, visiting monasteries and the base camp of Mt. Everest, before heading down into Nepal.  Then from Nepal to India to see the Taj Mahal, and finally to Hong Kong for a week, before returning to Beijing for my flight back to the States.  Unfortunately, the Tibetan uprisings and visa issues has made that trip impossible. What’s more, because the Chinese government is being very strict about giving out visas, I could not even go to another country and then come back into China.  This includes going to Hong Kong.  One of my friends got a scholarship to work in Beijing over the summer, but she has to fly back to New York City in order to get her visa extended, before coming back to Beijing a week later.  In any case, it seems my travel is restricted to China.  That’s where Plan B came in.  Plan B took me from northern Xinjiang (the western-most and most other-worldly province in China), down around the Taklaman Desert, following the Southern Silk Road (an ancient road used by traders to transport silk and other goods), through the mountains into Qinghai province, down into Sichuan, then up to Xian and back to Beijing, taking me all the way across the country.  Of course, the earthquakes in Sichuan have made plan B impossible as well.  After some thought, however, I’ve decided to stick with Plan B, going directly from Qinghai to Xi’an rather than going to Sichuan. 

My program has now ended, and I’ve rented a room on the first floor of the building that served as my dorm all semester.  Tomorrow, I’m planning to finish getting all of my stuff in order and to go see the Forbidden City.  I’m pretty tired physically (little sleep and helping people with bags all day) and emotionally (just said goodbye to a lot of really good friends), but I’m trying to get hyped about my trip, even though I’ll be going alone.  But if I get too lonely or too bored, I’ll hop a bus to the nearest town with an airport and head back to Beijing.  This trip will be the biggest adventure of my life thus far, and I’ll try to keep up with my posts throughout.  I’m unable to post pictures here, because of the speed of my Internet connection, but I’ll put them all up when I can.

3 of 3 - Inner Mongolia: Sand, Grass, and Crowded Trains

I suppose I really do need to start catching up with my posts or I’m really gonna be behind.  Let me start where I last left off.  Three weekends ago was the IES Beijing Do-It-Yourself (DIY) weekend.  This is basically a three day weekend during which time they encourage you to plan and go about your own travel in China, providing you with Y1000 per person (after the fact) if you organize all of your receipts correctly.  While Y1000 is really only around USD140, it does go a long way for travel within China.

I had decided earlier on in the semester that I wanted to go to Inner Mongolia, the part of Mongolia currently held as a province of China.  So, I put a trip together and ran it by four of my friends (Matt, Rona, Mae, and Alba).  The plan was this: three cities in three days—focusing not on the cities themselves but the nature and sites around the cities, using them only as bases to get to other places.  Before we left, my teachers told us that they thought we didn’t have enough time for the trip and still make it back for class on Monday morning (we didn’t get any money from IES if we were late on Monday), but I remained confident.

So, Thursday evening after classes, we headed to the Peking Airport for our 9:00 flight to Baotou (only about an hour away by plane).  I had made reservations for a hotel for Thursday night via text messages in Chinese.  The five of us arrived at the Baotou airport only a little bit tired, but ready for an adventure.  Despite the fact that the airport is only 2km south of the city, all of the taxi drivers refused to use their meters instead asking Y50 (anything under 3km should be Y6 in Baotou).  We finally determined that we had no other choice, since it was 11 pm by that point.  What’s more since there were 5 of us, we had to take two taxis.  Before I go on, let me just thank IES for planning this trip on the weekend of May 1^st, a Chinese national holiday.  We got to our hotel in no time at all, only to find that they had no rooms.  We discussed with them for a few minutes, showing them the text messages and asking them what they wanted us to do.  They told us that the text messages had been from a staff member in the cafeteria, and therefore they weren’t responsible for it (WHY SOMEONE FROM THE CAFETERIA WOULD BE MAKING ROOM RESERVATIONS, I DON’T KNOW!!!).  They offered us a suite for about three times more money than we were willing to pay.  Seeing that we were desperate, they finally offered to call around to other hotels to see if they had availability.  After a few minutes on the phone, they told us that there was a hotel about 15 minutes away by foot that confirmed they had a few rooms, but couldn’t promise anything.  So, we walked in that direction and finally found it.  They had two rooms available for us, so we checked in and settled down just before midnight. 

The next day we woke up at 7:30am and ate breakfast at the hotel, before heading to the train station.  The plan was to get train tickets to Hohhot for that evening and bus tickets to the city closest to the desert for that day.  Unfortunately, the train station only had standing-room tickets for the train to Hohhot.  We discussed it, and agreed that since it was only a two hour train-ride it would be okay.  At the bus station we were hounded by local drivers offering to take us to the Resonant Sand Gorge (our desert destination) for a fairly high price, claiming that we wouldn’t be able to get taxis from the bus station in Daqi (the city closest to the gorge).  We found it very hard to believe that there  wouldn’t be taxis, so we took our chances and went with the bus.  An hour later, at the Daqi bus station, we found that we had chosen well, since there was a lot full of taxis waiting to take us. We arranged a price with two drivers and set off further towards the gorge.

The Resonant Sand Gorge, according to Lonely Planet China is “a slice of the Sahara dropped into the Inner Mongolian grasslands…,a section of the Kubuqi desert with sand dunes up to 110m high,” so-called because of the sound that the sand is supposed to make when you step on it (we didn’t hear anything).  In any case, the Resonant Sand Gorge is a desert area with many fun activities in addition to just enjoying the desert itself.  So, after stealing five pairs of brightly colored shoe-coverings, and grabbing a quick lunch, we ascended the gorge by foot (there was a chair-lift, but we’re too lihai [hardcore] for that, or maybe just too cheap).  We decided to first go for a 30-minute camel ride up to an outpost a bit away into the desert and then back.  Then, we broke IES policies (which state that we’re forbidden to operate motorized vehicles in China) by going for an ATV (all-terrain vehicle) ride over the dunes.  I had never ridden an ATV before, and besides the time that I went too fast, got stuck, and had to push, it was a lot of fun.  Finally, after fully enjoying the desert, we went sand-sledding back down into the gorge (definitely a fun sledding experience), before heading back up to the entrance to head back to Baotou.  Arranging all of this transportation was especially difficult since we needed to have official receipts for everything in order to get refunds from IES.

The restaurant that we had planned to eat dinner at in Baotou had still not opened, so we took a walk, found another restaurant, emptied the sand from our shoes, then headed to the train station for the standing-room only ride to Hohhot.  Standing-room only turned out not to be that bad.  We were able to sit on our bags, and get reasonably comfortable.  About an hour in, I was approached by two Chinese girls, asking if they could practice their Chinese with me, and offering seats to my friends and me if I agreed.  So, I agreed, and we went and talked with them for the remaining hour.

We had arranged to stay at a hostel in Hohhot, run by a Mongolian man named Zorigoo, for two nights.  When we arrived at the train station, Zorigoo’s friends and three Australian girls (also staying at the hostel) were waiting there to greet us.  We walked to the hostel, and settled in.  Anda Guesthouse, was really just an extra apartment, but was cozy enough.  They had Mongolian tea waiting for us upon our arrival, and we talked a bit with them before arranging a trip with them to the grasslands for the next day and then going to sleep.

There were 6 American, British, and Australian people, all currently teaching English in China, also staying at the hostel.  So, in the morning, we all headed north towards Xilamuren (the location of the grasslands closest to Hohhot).  On the grasslands we had a traditional Mongolian breakfast and lunch, and walked down to a dried-out lake.  The grasslands are called the grasslands, because in the right season all that you can see for miles and miles in any direction is the grass and the sky.  We knew before we went on this trip that it wasn’t the most ideal time to visit the grasslands, since the green season had just begun.  As such, the grass was minimal, but the feeling of nothingness was still the same.  On the lake, one of our hosts showed us how to Mongolian wrestle, and I gave it a shot with one of the other visitors (I won…).  Then we decided to go horse riding.  Because the family that we were visiting only had 3 horses, one of them rode over to a nearby family to have them bring more horses over.  We went riding for an hour up to a hill, which was a Mongolian holy site, and then back to our starting point.  Somehow I managed to pick the fastest horse.  Instead of letting me figure this out for myself, one of the Mongolian guys rode next to me the entire time.  I was a little annoyed since I didn’t really feel like I was leading the horse, even though we were in front of everyone else.  So, I told him in Chinese, “you know, I’m from America.  I’m a cowboy.  I ride horses all the time.  No worries.”  That, of course, didn’t work.  So, I rode with this Mongolian man and talked with him.  He asked me where America was.  I wasn’t quite sure how to answer, since he obviously didn’t have a great grasp on geography, probably never having left the grasslands, or maybe only having gone once or twice into Hohhot.  I told him, “you know that big sea next to China?  The Pacific?”  He said, “I’m not sure.  I may have seen it on television once.”  I said, “well, it’s really, really, really big.  Much bigger than China.  And if you cross that sea, you’ll get to America.”

That night we returned to Hohhot, and had ate at a Mongolian restaurant before walking around for a while and heading back to the hostel to rest.  When we got back to the hostel, we played with Zorigoo’s 10 year-old son, who insisted on telling us a ghost story in Chinese.  Of course, the power went off in the middle, which actually gave it some weight.  Then we took the opportunity to play in the dark, before going to sleep for an early departure for Datong in Shanxi province.

The bus to Datong was an early one, and took five hours.  We got in around 11:30 am, and went immediately to buy our train ticket back to Beijing.  Remember how I complained about IES having scheduled this trip on a holiday weekend?  Well, here’s where it matters.  When we got to the train station, we were informed that everyone and their mothers were trying to get to Beijing, and there were no more seats on any of the trains.  There were, however, standing tickets.  But this was no 2 hour ride from Baotou to Hohhot—this one was 6 hours in the middle of the night.  We quickly ran to the bus station to check if they had any seats.  They had few seats on the next bus out, but that wouldn’t give us enough time to go see the Yungang Grottoes (the first Buddhist carvings in China).  So, we took a vote, and opted to buy the standing tickets for the train, holding out hope that, just like our Baotou to Hohhot trip, we’d have room and be offered seats for speaking English with someone.

Our tickets in hand, we went and got lunch before making the one hour trip out to the grottoes.  The Yungang grottoes were very impressive, and worth the visit.  The Buddha statues carved into the hills were gigantic towering through their caves.  While we were there, we were even approached by a probably 80-some year-old woman to sign a petition for Taiwan’s Independence.  Not quite sure what to do, my friends signed “Harry Potter” and “J. Hancock”, knowing that this was probably not the best document to have our names on.  On the way back to Datong, we stopped to walk up through a mining village to search for Mongolian beacon towers and a piece of the Great Wall.  When we reached the top of the hill above the mining village, we realized we’d climbed the wrong hill, seeing a gigantic beacon tower and a piece of the Great wall over on a neighboring hill (but at least we saw them). 

Back in Datong, we ate dinner and headed back to the train station.  Our train was schedule to leave at 11:30pm.  When it finally approached, and it was our turn to board, we thought that there would be no way.  People were literally hanging out of the door, and inside there was not even enough room to lift an arm. If anything, I’m playing down the situation.  I turned to the train attendant and asked, “how do we get on?”  Her response was: “Push!”  So, we did.  We pushed and pushed, and were pushed, and just as our last group member made it into the mess, the train started off.  For the first 15 minutes, we thought that we were going to die.  Six hours in this situation would have been enough to make all of us go insane—even sardines would have felt uncomfortable.  No air-conditioning, no space, no comfort whatsoever.  Fortunately, we were able to keep pushing and find an aisle with not too many people (meaning while I still couldn’t lift my arms, I could at least put my bag down.)  So, we did our best to stand.  A couple hours in, it started to clear out a bit more as we hit more train stations, and a few people offered to let us sit while they went for smokes.  Then, one of my friends found a small corridor, which was a bit cooler and more spacious.  So, we migrated there, and tried to get some sleep.  Of course, each time that somebody passed (which was probably at least every five minutes), they woke us up, even if they could have stepped over us.  This was probably one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life, but it was a true China experience.  We got into Beijing at 4:40 am, tired, sore, and glad to be back. 

 

 The next weekend, I went on an overnight trip to the Great Wall.  We drove two hours from Beijing out to Jinshanling, from which point we spent the day hiking towards Simatai.  Some great views and good inclines, made the hike a good one, and we made it to our destination, a village just beyond the Great Wall at Simatai, in the late afternoon, in time for dinner.  The night was cold, especially since I had woken up late, and forgotten to pack long pants.  But our hosts started up a couple of bonfires, and set off some fireworks to keep us entertained.  Since we planned to get up at 3:30 am in order to hike to the highest part of the Great Wall in China to see the sunrise, we headed to bed early, sleeping four people per bed.  The morning hike was difficult since the incline was fairly steep and it was still dark.  We made it up to the top in time, but the weather was such that the sun didn’t rise.  A lot of people were upset, but it was still a fun time.  We headed back down for breakfast, as it started to rain, and then boarded the bus back to Beijing.  Unfortunately, what should have been a two hour bus ride turned into a 6 hour bus ride, since the roads were closed because of a bad accident.

I'm alright...

I just wanted to write a quick note in light of the current situation in China.  I am okay.  The effects of the earthquakes on Beijing were minimal, and although some people did report feeling the tremors, I didn't notice them.  Life goes on in Beijing as usual.  However, the sentiment of Beijingers towards the devastation of the earthquakes is probably much the same as where you are: one of dismay and helpless remoteness.  One of my teachers' families lives in Sichuan (the province hit directly by the quakes).  She has as yet been unable to contact them, since the telephones are still down.

I am in the middle of writing final papers and preparing for final exams, which is why I've yet to tell you about my trip to Inner Mongolia and my overnight stay and hike at the Great Wall.  What's more, I was not surprisingly told about a month ago that my trip to Tibet had been canceled.  Since then I have been working to put another trip together myself, and had just about finished working out all of the details when the earthquakes hit.  Since a good deal of my planned travel was to take place in Sichuan and surrounding areas (including towns directly at the epicenter of the earthquakes), I have to go back to the drawing board to figure out Plan C.  What's more, with little more than a week left in my study abroad program, I'm rushing to figure out my travel, spend time with my friends, see all those sites I forgot to see, and buy all those last minute souvenirs.  So, I'm busy. -- But okay.  (Now, back to my 3000 word sociology paper...)

2 of 3 - Shanghai: Out of the sea and back to reality

POST 2 of 3 – (last week)

When I said that I had gone to play capture the flag last Sunday, I actually meant two Sundays ago.  I’ve been extremely busy with classwork and planning travel.  The Friday before this past Friday, we had to write and perform a play instead of having a test.  Ours, which I’d rather not discuss the topic of (J), was fairly good.  I played a Chinese mother/owner of a brothel, and won the prize for best actor (as well as doing fairly well in the best actress category too).  That evening, I headed to the train station with 6 of my friends (coincidentally all girls: Persephone, Cory, Alba, Rona, Mae, and Fei), for a self-determined long weekend trip to Shanghai.  We arrived around 10am on Saturday morning, and headed to our hostel.  I had booked the hostel (Koala International Youth Hostel) online, and it exceeded my expectations.  Despite the fact that it was a cab ride away from most of the interesting places, the rooms were great, with private bathrooms (better than most Chinese hotel rooms I’ve stayed in). 

While some of the girls went shopping, I went with two of my other friends exploring the touristy area near the river known as the Bund.  Shanghai, in contrast to Beijing, is a western-style city, and it feels more like a city you’d find in the west than in China.  We walked down a popular shopping and tourist street called Nanjing Lu, being called to from every direction by street salesmen holding small pictures of products that could be obtained after following them to another location, “Watch, T-shirt, DVD?!?”  Then, on the recommendation of a friend, we took a “ride” called the sightseeing tunnel.  Expecting it to be interesting, we were disappointed and a little upset to see that our ridiculous 40 kuai ticket had bought us no more than a light show and a way to the other side of the river.  We ascended to street-level to find the Oriental Pearl Tower, the tallest tower in Asia and 3^rd tallest tower in the world.  After looking around for a while, we walked back down to river, and walked around a little before heading to the subway and back across the river to go to the Old Town.  Later, we went back to our hostel to get dressed up before heading out for a nice dinner and night on the town.  We went to a Morrocan/Middle-Eastern themed restaurant and bar in the park next to the Shanghai Museum, where we met up with my friend Persephone’s friend who is studying in Shanghai and 10 of her friends.  The dinner was expensive, but that’s Shanghai.  Then we walked down to the Bund to go to some clubs.  The first club, which supposedly had a great view, also happened to have a really high cover for guys.  So, my friends said they’d only go up for 10 minutes to check out the view while I went across the street with two of the other guys we were with for a beer.  (Of course, I forgot that when girls say 10 minutes they actually mean an hour.)  An hour later, they showed up at the bar, and we had a few more drinks before heading to a techno/house club on the other side of town, complete with lasers, glow sticks, and fairly sketchy dancers.

The next morning we headed back to the old town, ate local specialty foods and explored a park.  Afterwards, we headed back to the other of the river.  While some of the group, went up the Oriental Pearl Tower (I was dismayed by the 150 kuai ticket price), I went for a walk with my friend Alba to a large and upscale mall and then down by the river.  The mall was filled to the brim with western stores and prices, as well as a skating park and side Olympic event for children.  (I had a good time playing in Toys ‘R Us for a while.)  Then we hopped the subway back towards the People’s Square to look for a market.  After walking around for a pretty long time, we met up with the others for dinner.  Once it got dark, we walked back to the river and bought tickets for a boat ride.  Meanwhile, my camera had been acting up all day, and a lot of my pictures didn’t come out properly. 

On Monday, while the others went to the Shanghai Urban Development Museum, Alba and I went over to the French Concession (a largely French-influenced area with parks and shopping).  We walked around for a while and then headed back towards the museum area to meet the others at the Shanghai museum.  Then, we all went down to the Bund and bought kites from street vendors, flying them for a while by the river before cabbing it back over to the hostel and then to the train station for our return to Beijing.  The soft-sleeper cabin that we had on the way back was really nice, and we got into Beijing on Tuesday morning just in time to be slightly late for our 8am class.

With our Do-It-Yourself (DIY) weekend approaching, we spent Tuesday night making phone calls, reservations, and plans.  On Wednesday, I went to Zhongguancun (a big technology area near my school), to try to get my camera fixed and to look at new ones.  Since it was purchased in America, they wouldn’t fix it.

Whatever the case, they had pushed our weekly test to Thursday since we had off on Friday for the DIY weekend, and I needed to go back to school to study and pack.

1 of 3 - Busy Times in Beijing

POST 1 OF 3 – (this one’s a couple weeks behind—I’ve been very busy.)

One more week down.  Last Sunday I went with a bunch of friends up to the Old Summer Palace to play Capture the Flag.  For any of you who don’t know how the game works, you basically split up into two teams, divide the playing area into two parts (one for each team), give each team a flag, and then each team individually hides their flag, sets up a prison area, and goes to work trying to both protect their own flag and capture the other team’s flag.  If a member of the opposite team crosses into your team’s territory, you can tag them and then bring them to your jail, until they’re set free by a fellow team member.  The Old Summer Palace area extends in the Northwest of Beijing as a series of archaeological parks and lakes.  In the back, however, the main site of the Old Summer Palace is contained within a fence, probably slightly larger than a football field and has many pits, pillars, crumbling ruins, trees, and Chinese tourists.  You can image, therefore, how amazing it would be to play capture the flag there.  Besides the extensive hiding areas and the natural obstacles, the Chinese tourists just made things all the more fun, whether it was trying to blend into their groups to sneak over to enemy territory, or chasing the other team through a large group of them, and seeing the fear and surprise on their faces as two big white people lunged past.  Anyway, after a few rounds, we decided it was time to pack it in, so we headed over to the Kro’s Nest for some pizza.

On Tuesday night, I sat and watched my friends play Mahjong for a while, until I picked up the rules, and then tried my hand at it.  Having played gin rummy growing up, I took to it naturally, and really enjoy playing.  On Wednesday, I was woken up by my RA at 11:30am, telling me that we were leaving in 10 minutes for Houhai to film their Chinese class project, which I had forgotten I’d promised I’d help them with.  So, we spent the day at Houhai.  They were required for their fifth year Chinese class to make a 30-45 minute movie on any topic.  The basis of their movie was an ancient Chinese philosopher named Zhuangzi, who was famously quoted having the following discussion (roughly): 

                Zhuangzi says to his friend by a lake, “Look at those fish, they are truly happy.”  His friend replies, “You’re not a fish, how do you know what makes fish happy?”  Zhuangzi replies, “You’re not me.  How do you know I don’t know what makes fish happy?”  And so on.

Anyway, their idea was to have Zhuangzi at Houhai (a fairly touristy area), searching for happiness.  So, naturally when they thought about who to have play Zhuangzi, I was their first choice (?).  We basically spent the entire day walking around asking people in Chinese if they knew what happiness is, and if they were truly happy.  Once Emily, my RA, put it together, it was really an amusing and impressive film, and if I manage to get a copy, I’ll put it up.  On Friday, they screened it in their class.  So, I skipped part of my class’s activity to go watch.  Later that day, I tried to do some work.  The weather was nice, so I went outside with my computer to sit by the small store near our dorm.  It might have been very nice, but a little boy came running over as soon as I’d turned on my computer, and sat next to me, randomly pressing my keyboard.  He also took the liberty of pulling out my headphones to see what I was listening to, which he said in Chinese was “bad to listen to”.  While he was very cute, I did have to get my work done, so I apologized to him and headed into a café.  After a few hours I went with a few friends to eat hotpot down the road.  I don’t remember if I’ve given a description of hotpot, though I did mention going to an all-you-can-eat hotpot restaurant earlier in the semester.  Anyway, hotpot is a Chinese specialty in several different regions, including Beijing.  The basic functioning of the meal is that there is a big pot of water and seasonings in the middle of the table on a built-in stove.  The water boils and they bring you raw meat and vegetables to your specifications, which you then put in the water to cook.  They also give you sauces on the side, which you can use for dipping.  We got a big pot, with half regular water and half spicy water, and ordered a bunch of meats and vegetables.  (Definitely much better than all-you-can-eat hotpot.)  Then, we headed to an all-you-can-snack/drink tea house to play Mahjong.  We played for a couple hours, until they came over to us telling us that we weren’t allowed to play Mahjong out in the open, because they assumed we were gambling, and if the authorities came in, they’d be fined.  So, we switched to Chinese poker before heading back to campus.

On Saturday, I went on a trip to the Great Wall at Jiankou.  Jiankou is not the usual touristy Great Wall experience, and in fact, it is off limits to tourists (we had special permissions).  There has been very little efforts to preserve the Great Wall in this area, so rather than a nice walk or hike, the trip becomes a brisk hike and climb, and can be fairly dangerous-going at times.  (I accidentally displaced a rock while descending one portion of the wall, which jettisoned down towards another group and almost took out a man’s leg before shooting through one of the look-out windows—fortunately, it just missed him.)  We got back to Beijing just in time for me to get dressed up and head to Chaoyang for the first night of Passover and a Seder with the Beijing Chabad.  The seder was held in a nice hotel just north of the embassy district, and the guests managed to fill the ballroom.  I sat at a table with a friend of mine who’d gone with me, two men from America who were in town for the International World Wide Web Conference, and an Israeli expat who was working in Beijing.  It was nice to be among so many Jewish people, and only a little disconcerting to hear them all speaking English.  Since it was a Lubavitch service, it was long and traditional (besides the additional reading of the Four Questions in Chinese).  While I didn’t feel that I would be able to keep to the Passover kashrut laws as closely as I would at home, I devised my own system that would have me make an effort without starving me.  I also ordered some food from Chabad, which helped to hold me over.

The next morning, I woke up early for a badminton tournament.  The tournament, which was held at the Beijing Normal Studies University, was an all-IES Beijing doubles double-elimination tournament.  I partnered up with my Chinese teacher, Zhang Laoshi, and we won our first match and lost our second.  We were on our way to winning our third game (two more wins after that would have put us in the finals), when we looked over and so Xiao Zhao, the head Chinese teacher, with whom I went to Yunnan, on the floor.  Evidently, she and her partner had collided, and her ankle at twisted the wrong way.  One person went to get ice, while someone else looked for a taxi to go to the hospital, and the older calligraphy teacher (who is a very interesting man), Fang Laoshi, used Chinese pressure points to keep her from fainting in shock.  When the taxi finally arrived, Fang Laoshi carried her over, and I followed, realizing that no one would be at the hospital to help her when they arrived.  So, while the others went back to the tournament, I rode with her and our other teacher, Lu Laoshi to the hospital.  Chinese hospitals are not like American hospitals.  The nurses do not take care of you like they do in America—family and friends are expected to attend to the sick (even during long-term stays).  We spent a couple hours there, having her leg inspected then carrying her back to the waiting room, then over to the radiology room for X-Rays.  It turned out that her bone was fine, but that the surround tissue had been torn.  The doctor said she shouldn’t walk at all for a day or so, but that she would be back on her feet in about a week.  So, we hopped another taxi, and helped her up to her apartment before returning to school.

***MORE POSTS COMING VERY SOON***