Kashgar: Camels and Donkeys and Goats, Oh My!

The remainder of the week was spent in the city of Kashgar in Western Xinjiang, a stop over for people traveling from Pakistan, Kyrgyzstan or Tajikstan into China, or the reverse. I arrived after my hitchhiking adventure and, since my phone was dead, borrowed a cell phone to get in touch with my friends.

I found them at the hotel and managed to get a bed in their room (after a bit more arguing at the reception desk). I showered and we compared Karkoram Highway experiences and pictures, before strolling through part of Old Town on our way to dinner. Kashgar is a small place, and they’d already spent a day in the city, so they’d pretty much seen all that was worth seeing of the old, Muslim city center, but humored me by pointing out the elaborately decorated musical instruments, various foods they’d tried and the buildings of aptly named Old Town, a rundown set of alleys and brick houses with vendors selling naan and bagels, grapes and other fruit, and junk that, within any given store, would range from embroidered purses to beaded jewelry to “antique” rice bowls and tea pots to communist memorabilia.

Dinner featured, among other things, lamb chops roasted on grills on the front sidewalk, spicy stewed chicken and rice, and cold, spicy chick peas (we passed on the 500 yuan whole roast sheep). The lamb was wonderful and very different from anything I’ve had while in China. The evening took us to the night market to search in vain for some yummy sounding desserts we’d read about in Lonely Planet, and on the way back we paused at the square in front of the old mosque where a giant screen was showing movies to crowds of spectators.

Thursday was a trip to the desert which meant long but entertaining hours in the car, with a stop briefly in nearby Yengisar, a town known for its many expert knife makers, and another town where we had lamb kebabs and pumpkin dumplings, sitting on a large day bed with a short table in the middle.

The desert appeared suddenly, a huge expanse of sandy hills emerging from a wooded are with grape vines and trees. We were put on camels and led a ways in to look around. It was fun, but on the downhills I had to brace myself and close my eyes, as there were no stirrups and a rather crude saddle. Camels are not the nicest animals, but ours were at least complacent, except for Bamu’s which refused to sit, forcing her to have to climb up. Overall lots of fun, though my leg muscles were less than comfortable in the evening.

Dinner we had at the night market, sitting on benches in front of food carts and moving from stall to stall, trying one or two of each thing (we passed on the boiled goat heads), and actually found the sweet, fried raisin pastries we’d been looking for the day before. We finished the meal off with freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, which was served in small glasses set out in front of the juicer, meant to be finished in a few quick gulps. It was so good I had two more glasses on Friday.

Friday morning Bamu and Huijuan left for Urumqi and I had the day to kill before a late evening flight. I went to the Sunday market, operational (even on weekdays) for about 2000 years, saw the old mosque, and spent a good bit of the day wandering around Old Town, though I wasn’t in the market for much of what was for sale (carpets, big gaudy knives, fur hats, etc.) I bought some golden raisins and pistachios, both foods I can’t find in Hangzhou, and admired some brass tea kettles, though as a coffee drinker without a kitchen it’s probably better I ended up not buying one. I spent some time at a pretty cool upstairs tea house on a balcony overlooking the streets of old town. The place was crowded and by default I ended up getting seated with the only other tourists in the place (everyone else was Uighur, male, old, and wearing a dark coat and green embroidered cap), an American couple who had just crossed in from the West having spent several months in the former Soviet Union as part of an epic tour. I gave them what wisdom I could about Chinese practicalities, and was glad for a bit of conversation. The rest of the day consisted mostly of wasting time: I sat in the main square for a while perusing Lonely Planet and watching the men slowly pack into the mosque for afternoon prayers. When they all came pouring out, however, an old woman sinning near me started trying to read words aloud from my book, and I suddenly became the focus for LOTS of passersby, looking an my book and sounding out words (the Uighur script uses the Arabic alphabet, but it used to use the Roman). I obliged for a while, flipping to the part on Kashgar and pointing to the name of the mosque, but when it became clear that no one was losing interest and new people wanted to know what the excitement was, I pulled out my cell phone, looked at the time, feigned surprise and set off.

In all, Kashgar is a very cool place, but only for a short stay unless you have something to do there. Anyone who reads this and decides to go, I’ll gladly go with you, and give you the name of a nice guy with a yurt on Karakul Lake.