Kashgar Sunday market and onwards in mid-summer

  Urumqi, China
Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Sunday July 10 Kashgar Sunday Market
We're off to Kashgar's famed Sunday Market today. In recent years, under Chinese influence, the market has been "modernised", and the Livestock market is now a few kilometres out of town.
We're in Xinjiang, the largest province in China, comprising 16% of the country. It shares a border with eight other nations (Mongolia, Russia, Kazakhastan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan and Pakistan). Like Tibet, the Chinese government has been flooding the area with Han Chinese. The Uighurs once comprised 90% of the Xinjiang population, but they are now less than 50%.

The Uighurs are Moslem, and their language is part of the Turkic language family. All signs are written in Chinese and Arabic, which probably accounts for the fact that there is very little English, as this would constitute a third language. Relations between the Uighurs and the Han Chinese are pretty strained.
Up by alarm at 7.30 for an 8 am local time taxi to the livestock market for Y10, drops us right outside the entrance. "Local time" and "Beijing time" is another thing we have to watch here. Officially, all China is on Beijing time, which leads to some funny situations. At 6pm at night here, the sun is beating down, still with plenty of strength, but at 10am in the morning it is quite cool, as the sun is still low in the sky. The locals get around this a bit by having "local time" which is two hours different to "Beijing time", so you have to always check which time they are talking about.
The street leading to the Livestock market is a wide avenue full of traders and people with animals,

possibly waiting to go in, possibly avoiding the entry fee. Look at the street first, then front in (no need to pay). Find a large compound, with only about half of it occupied.
Up the right hand side are eating stalls, with meat being butchered,

bread cooking, large vats of goats heads boiling.

We get some good photos, then move further on to where fat-tailed sheep are being shorn in a manner which leaves them looking like French poodles.
At the front centre, against the front wall are harness, rope and saddlery shops. Further back are rails across the field to which cattle are tied. Further back again are smaller rails where sheep are tied with a rope looped into a series of nooses.
On the left side is a raised platform on which families have spread blankets, and smaller cooking operations are being carried out. The road in from the left hand gate is pretty muddy, with a big pool in it. Just past this, the cattle are being unloaded from small trailers pulled by lunger tractors.

Up to five large cattle are loaded facing across the trailer, with the largest at the front. Most of them are made to jump, reluctantly, a metre down to the ground. We watch one particularly large and well-conditioned bull (who had a blindfold on - so he wouldn't know what he was being made to do?) hurt his leg in the process. Obviously no-one has taken responsibility for building a ramp to speed up the process and protect the valuable animals. One particularly large bull took up a complete trailer, but was still made to jump. Others were unloaded by tipping the trailer, giving them no option but to leap for it. Watching a large bull leaping into a close crowd of people and cattle was pretty scary, but no-one was trampled (today that is).
Outside on the road,

we looked at vendors selling some sort of roll-milled animal feed, and watched a donkey being shoed by a farrier. The process involves a frame with two posts and a top beam, and the donkey is hauled up with ropes in front of his back legs, and behind his front ones, until he is almost off the ground. There is a fair bit of protest involved in this, but it confines the donkey enough to get him shoed.

We talked to an elderly cocky-farmer type from Walcha, who certainly hadn't seen animals shod like that in Australia. He was part of a group doing all the Stans, and had been to most of them with no problem, and friendly people.
Back in the market compound, we did the rounds again, seeing about 30 tourists altogether, and taking some close ups of people and activities.

Outside on the main road, we caught a taxi back to the main branch of Bank of China. It looked ominously quiet when we approached, but the doors were open, and about 20 people lined up in 3 queues at the counter. Only this section was open, and there were a lot of vacant desks in the office area, so it must have been just a skeleton staff on, it being Sunday. MP lined up, and DP checked the ATM's, and watched an Aussie couple try their card without luck, and talked to them for a while. Meanwhile, MP is asked to move to the right queue, behind a Chinese woman, and a French couple. The Chinese woman takes a while, then the French couple present a 500 Euro note, which is bigger than they are authorised to change on a Sunday, presumably when the trumps are not there. Eventually, with the help of their Chinese tour guide, they are allowed to use two passports to split it into an acceptable amount. MP then fronts up, finds that the Homeside card, in spite of being a Visa "Plus" card is not acceptable, but the Visa card is OK, provided we cop a 3 percent commission. It takes a long while to process, with the card details being sent to Beijing, but eventually we get our Y4000 less commission, and walk north and east toward the Sunday market. We pass the gate at the entrance to the old city where they collect entry fees from tourists, and turn right into the long street leading up past the market. There is a lot of activity in the service lanes along this road, but the market proper starts once we cross the river, where there are stalls out on the street proper,

and shoppers mixing it with the taxis, buses and 3-wheel delivery vehicles. It is quite interesting, firstly at the butchers' section right on the river,

then fruit, veg, spices, clothes and everything that can be marketed, along the road.

We spot a covered bazaar to the right, have a quick look at it, and back out to look for the real market. You wouldn't have seen this in Pakistan!

Walk a while, realise that we are on the left side of the market, and the modern structure with a blue, curved metal roof is the market. Venture in again to look at the clothes, souvenirs, knives, tea kettles, Uighur hats, and Pashmina Shawls. DP think it is about time she had one, so inspects a few to find one free of blemishes, gets a "best price", then decides on two, one for Lisa, and gets them for Y110. We assume they are the real thing, as they burn, rather than melt, but who knows? Certainly not us.
Back outside, we see a particularly grotty street with a big crowd of people in it. Turns out to be a more traditional market. Walk through to the second hand shoe

and clothes section before finding the cloth market, displaying dress lengths of amazingly bright and shiny fabrics, making excellent photos.

We had a break in a deserted section of the new market, watching a young Chinese couple, with a baby, and the glances of passers-by as she breast fed it in public.
We emerged into the street beside the river, and walked down it to the end of the market, looking at donkeys, loads of plaited garlic, dogs and savage cats for sale, plus a couple of sleeper busses. It must be either a tour group, or people coming a long way to market.
Back up the same street, MP inspects the machinery market while DP walks further up, and gets involved in a deal for nectarines.

First man wants Y10, next only 5, but talked her into peaches as change for a Y10 note. Catch a taxi back to the hotel for lunch and a break. Do Diary and Internet, wash and eat a fair number of green nectarines. Out again when it has cooled off. Walk into the old town, find the main mosque, take photo of people having Sunday out, and photographers, with props of a decorated camel and a fancy goat pulling an ancient style carriage for kids. Cross over the main road and plunge into the old city, walking through busy and quiet streets, with alleys and passages off into the labyrinth.

Eventually emerge near the Sunday market. Walk back in the next street, without getting hammered for an entrance fee. Walk up the street of the potters, then the blacksmiths, and have a conversation with an Uighur would-be money changer who knew Melbourne and Sydney, and can read our guide book. Takes a while getting it back off him, but he is a good natured guy, in spite of looking like Ghengis Khan's brother. It is getting pretty late, and dark when we get back. Do some internet, and have a meal at the hotel restaurant, last to leave at midnight Beijing time. Wash out our gear for tomorrow -will wear it wet if necessary, as it will dry pretty quick in the sun. We've bought tickets for tomorrow on the Kashgar-Urumqi overnight train with the Poles and Richard. Were originally going to stay here a bit longer, but decided to go with the others, as town is not that interesting. Christophe lent us the money to buy the tickets (324 Yuan each), and we paid him back when we finally got money from the bank.
Monday 11 July Kashgar - Train to Urumqi
Lazy morning. DP out to check what time we have to leave the room - local or Beijing, and look at the internet in the flash section of the hotel. Checkout is local time, so we have to get on with it. Pack to suit a long train trip with limited access to the packs, and find space for our travelling supplies. DP finds out we can cut CD's for a price at the flash hotel, so MP does this, DP internets, and we forget about checking out the People's Park. The CD cutting comes to Y50, a fair bit, but useful in clearing the camera for more photos. Back at the restaurant, we were joined for lunch by the Polish couple, then we tried our luck up on the 11th floor of the flash hotel for some panorama photos. A young Chinese woman seemed to be in charge, and took us into quite a number of penthouse rooms, opening the window for us so we could look over the whole town.

The rooms looked a bit sleezy, with lounges in black and white pseudo zebra print, and the staff looked like they made this their domain, with some sitting around watching TV. Our guide wouldn't take a tip. Back downstairs we did diary and waited for 2.45 local time to catch a taxi to the train station.
The taxdi-driver was a woman, and didn't understand where we wanted to go until shown the train tickets. On the way, passed the big ferris wheel we were thinking of riding to see the town, but it wasn't running. At the entrance to the station we were hammered Y2 for taxi parking, paid our Y10 fare, and headed into the station buying some cold Coke on the way in. DP cleared the baggage X-ray, but they saw something they didn't like in MP's pack, so had to open, and show them the two empty plastic bottles and the camera/Palm Pilot auxiliaries.
We stand in the waiting room with the other travellers as there are no seats spare, and t 500 people waiting. Try to figure out the train schedules from the board. There is a surprising number of trains, but can't see ours, 948. However, there is only one train at the station, and the number comes up on the electronic board, so we are confident when the doors open and the mob heads for the train.
Although we are fairly fast, by the time we find our bunks on the upper level of the two-decker sleeper,

the owners of the two lower bunks are already in residence, and, with the white sheet already made up into a bed on all berths, they claim the moral high ground, and it is almost impossible for us to get a seat in our carriage, or use the communal table. We manage to stow our bags under their beds.
Fortunately there are fold-down seats in the aisle, on the west side where most of the interesting scenery is. There are also small shelves between some of the seats, big enough to set out the Palm Pilot, guide books, and travel snacks. We claim one of these for a fair bit of the waking time, but it is like musical chairs, you don't have be up for long before you lose it. The Polish couple, Christof and Olga have the top bunks next door, Richard the Englishman we have been travelling with is down the corridor, and there is an American girl downstairs, but she speak Chinese, and we only see her in passing. Otherwise the vast majority of the passengers are Han Chinese.
In the lower bunks in our cabin, there is a Chinese man who doesn't acknowledge that we exist, possibly because he has the logical bunk for us to sit in during the day, facing forward, and he spends almost all the time on the train stretched out in the bunk.
On the other bunk is a woman and her 12-ish daughter, who are friendly enough, and offer us a seat on their bunk. The girl looks like she might want to exercise some English on us, but even the loan of the English-mandarin phrase book does not get any English out of her. There are a number of kids running around, two toddlers, one of whom is a champion squealer, who cries a lot. The other has a 6-ish sister who carries him around and plays with him a fair bit. A grandmother seems to be doing the child care on the squealer, and has a lot of tolerance, but no thought of the other passengers, making no real attempt to quieten or discipline him. When he is not crying or squealing, he and his totally spoilt older brother are playing fighting games with water bottles, slapping noisy plastic discs against the wall, or making scratching noises across the pristine melamine panels of the corridor with hard objects, with no restraint whatsoever put on them.
The bunks are comfortable, with quilts just the right thickness to handle the icy blast of A/C across the ceiling and down the walls to freeze the feet. This is definitely the best train we've seen in China, and explains why the tickets were pretty expensive. The line from Kashgar to Urumqi was only completed in 1999, and they obviously got some new rolling stock to go with the new line (unlike in India, where they used the old carriages on the new Konkan railway).
We start off on time smoothly, with no warning horn, pass through green, irrigated fields, with the homesteads and trellises we are familiar with.

Before long, we start to lose the green on the north side, where an increasingly high barren, eroded ridge appears.

This represents the edge of the enormous basin, and we follow it for hours until it get dark. There are chevron shaped run-off diverters directing water to culverts every half kilometer. These are faced with concrete or masonery blocks, and protected from drift sand by waffle pattern straw mats, rectangular brush fences, and walls of used railway sleepers. The scope of the project is immense, and the result is pretty good, as the ride is smooth and relatively fast, and the new rolling stock, such as our carriage, is world class, but not necessarily First Class.
At times the ridge to the north changed colour and height, and opened for watercourses, with kilometers of gibber desert disappearing into the distance.

At time there were pools of water collected beside the track where the ground had been scooped out to build up the roadbed. There was no sign of irrigation channels near these, so it must have been rain runoff or ground water.
To the South, the terrain varied from irrigated greenery and poplar tree, to expanses of gibber desert, and even occasional stretches of flat, sandy desert.
Occasionally the greenery extended north of the line, and at one point, possibly Aksu, a number of smaller, fast-flowing water channels, and a major river crossed the line, heading South. At a station near here, DP got out briefly, and realised that the A/C was doing a mighty job, as it was still very hot outside, even though it was coming on dark. Sat up talking and reading till late, and surprised when the lights went out without warning at 11 Beijing time. DP read for a while, MP rearranged his toes around the belted-in main daypack to get the quilt to cut off the breeze from the A/C. DP has a very traumatic night, with almost no sleep. At nearly fifty five, she's going through the menopause, and never knows what it going to happen next, except for the fact that Murphy's law usually comes into play, at the most inconvenient times. She had her periods, but during the night they came on exceedingly heavy, and she had to get up every hour. During this the sheets were marked. To make matters worse, couldn't get access to our bags, which were under the sleeping people. Finally solved the problems by covering the sheets with some towels.
Tues 12 July Train to Urumqi - Urumqi
Waking up in the morning, we were in completely different terrain, more like Pakistan, with high, barren mountains either side, and a fast flowing river.

There were signs of irrigation, fields and poplars. The railway repeatedly crossed the river, and in a couple of places entered a circular tunnel inside the mountain to gain height. In one place in a deep valley, there was an iron-ore mine, with an aerial ropeway to the railhead, and a small steelworks filling the valley with smoke and fumes. We had a number of stops at sidings to allow other trains to pass, as most of the way there is only a single track.
As we climbed higher toward the watershed, the mountains became less rugged, with a wide valley of short green grass

extending all the way up to the snow line.

There were a lot of horses in the valleys, and homesteads in the side valleys. In the main valley we photographed a number of evenly grouped half-yellow, half shiny metal rods, all inclined at the same angle, with about 20 groups spaced up the valley in a straight line. The angle of the rods indicate some kind of solar, or astronomical use, but their function remains a mystery.
Shortly after, we climbed out of the valley, past a small, new Chinese industrial settlement and railway station, after passing a completely destroyed and abandoned town of mud bricks. There are a number of such relics, and we are not sure if they are railway construction towns no longer needed, or the result of earthquakes. There is no-one to ask.
The climb involves a long, circular tunnel, and we emerge into a barren landscape, dropping down onto the sun-blasted gibber desert leading down to the 154 metres below sea level Turpan Depression. We can see a cement plant, and other industrial works in the distance,

and do a series of loops up what seems like a mild slope to get to the town of Daheyan, called Tulufan by the railway. This is only 58 km from our next destination after Urumqi, out in the heat haze somewhere down the slope, but we don't feel like getting off here. There are vendors on the platform, selling grapes, among other thing. DP gets off and buys some, washes them in train water, and rinses them in clean, boiled water, hoping they will be safe. They taste pretty good, even though a bit messy.
At this point we head definitely NW toward Urumqi, still through rugged, but not as high terrain. They are in the process of adding an extra track, and the road, which has run beside the rail for most of the way, is now a multi-lane expressway. There are still a lot of heavy trucks bumping along the free highway beside it. Pass a massive windfarm.

We were sitting in the corridor, a couple of hours out of Urumqi, when Dianne is "attacked" by the female attendant screaming at her "what is this, what is this" at the top of her lungs. Takes a while to work out what is going on. A lot of people are still in their bunks, but the attendant has decided to strip those beds that no-one is in. She's come across the marked sheet. She continues to yell, and then has a loud conversation with another attendant, all in Chinese. By this time we're in the carriage, and she's still pointing at the uncovered sheet, and yelling. Dianne doesn't know what to say or do, she's so embarrassed. Eventually say to her "what do you THINK it is!" and "why don't you tell the WHOLE train". The man in our carriage and the lady and daughter are sitting there through the whole thing as well. Eventually Dianne can take it no longer, and bursts into tears. Eventually attendant decides that 20 Yuan will fix the problem. Spend the next couple of hours till we can get off the train sitting quietly wishing I could be made invisible. This was the beginning of the end for us as far as China was concerned. From here on, we had a series of events that made the going hard, and very few high points.
Once at Urumqi, we get our gear from where we managed to tuck it under the lower bunks, and get ready to debark. MP experiences a sudden toilet urge that he manages to control with difficulty until we get to the hotel. We exchange our identification cards for our original tickets, and proceed very slowly in to the platform, too slowly, MP thinks. Debarkation is relatively orderly, and we make it through the turnstiles and out into the throng. The others are going to try their luck in the booking hall, so we head out to the taxi rank. Can't interest anyone for a while, then get two. Settle for a lady driver, who won't use the meter, and wants 20 Yuan for only a couple of kms straight line distance. She then hangs around for an additional starter, so MP threatens to get out, and this works, and we go. It is a fair walk to our "Peafowl Mansion" (think someone got Peacock and Peafowl mixed up), and takes forever for the desk girl with a little English to sort out our visa details. Needs the help of a mature-age Chinese English-speaking guest to convince her we have 60 days from when we came in. Meanwhile, MP has a fruitless loo search in the lobby, and is pleased to finally reach the room. For Y178, it is not as good value as the Kashgar for Y120, but it is A/C, and has a good bathroom with mixer taps, an intact WC, and hot water, plus breakfast thrown in.
From our 12th floor we get a good view down onto the colourful street and centre divider,

and an interesting view down on the decrepit rooftops and communist-era apartment buildings.
Urumqi, population 2,800,000, is the furthest place in the world from an ocean (2,250 kms), and is basically a transport hub, rather than a tourist town. Oil is a major source of revenue, and lots of Han Chinese have migrated here, giving it the same look and feel as most of the other Chinese cities.
After settling in, showering and resting, we head out looking for food. After negotiating the road underpass with an interesting courtyard in the middle of the road, we check out the KFC in the shopping centre we can see from our room. Looks like about Y25 for a chicken burger meal, but can't really work out what we'll get, and hope for better. Walk all the way into the main commercial area, and down to the eating area in Jianshe Lu, but can only find steamboat restaurants, and not in the mood for a big feed. Find what looks like an ordinary restaurant, but are conducted to a separate private dining room, the A/C is turned on, and we are presented with a Chinese-only menu. Decide this is not for us, so walk on to a drinks stand, where DP gets a Pepsi to help inject some energy, as she is feeling quite weak.
Walk to one of the only two Restaurants recommended in the book. This one rejoices in the name of "Vine Coffeehouse", is run by a black West Indian woman, and specialises in fruit drinks, coffee, and salads, not our first choice, but order a salad and an omelette, plus sprite and a peach juice, which never materialises. Get out of it for Y40, not bad value if we were feeling more in the mood.
We have spotted Richard at a table inside, so share with him, and talk about his options for seeing China, having been forced into a Xian ticket, rather than Beijing, because it was that or nothing for a week. Even so, he has 2 day to kill in Urumqi before he goes. The Poles had no better luck, so have gone to Turpan for a couple of days and will return for the Xian train.
We get a very fast and wild #7 minibus back to the hotel for Y3 total. Stand on the side of the road outside the hotel for a long time waiting for a break in the traffic, before walking along to a safer place and finding a dark, but safer underpass right to our hotel.
DP has a sleeping tablet to try and get some sleep, but we are disturbed jut before going to bed by a phone call enquiring if we need a massage. Tempted to leave the phone off the hook, but it makes weird noises. Consequently we get another offer at 1 o'clock, which DP answers firmly in the negative. Decide to leave it off the hook, in spite of the occasional flashing blue light and Chinese coming out of the handset, probably telling us to hang it up. MP up during the night for a few toilet stops, and turn off the alarm, having decided that a trip to Tian Chi (Heaven Lake, two and a half hours away) in our current condition is not a good idea.
Wednesday 13 July- Urumqi
MP drags DP out of bed at 9.45 to see what breakfast has to offer. She is feeling very lethargic, and feels she may have got an infection from the freezing airconditioning blowing on her during the night on the train. MP settles for boiled potato, boiled rice, some weird hot rice curd milk people seem to be using as a breakfast drink, and tea. DP goes more exotic, gets a wide range of mainly hot vegetables and a cake, but can't eat any, and leaves to go up to the loo, while MP finishes his potato, rice and tea, which stays with him for a couple of hours. Decide not to go to Turpan today either, and to visit the bank and local museum in the PM, if at all. Repair to the cot to repair, hopefully. It has been a pretty full-on travelling programme, and hopefully a rest will do us good.
By the time we get under way, we are too late and too disinterested to do the museum. It is fairly late, Beijing time, but still hot. Catch the #7,stay in one long stop too far, so walk back through the streets we walked last night looking for food. Found the Bank of China 24 hour section. Had Visa and Plus signs, but wouldn't talk to us. Were directed to the main entrance. MP lined up while DP checked out the internal ATM machines. No luck, no luck with the debit card, Deciding between paying the 3 % on Visa, and 0.75% on the Traveller's cheques. Decide we need the TC's more than the percentage points, so get out another Y3000. All of this is in 100's, so we now have quite a wad in the money belt. Get lost walking out a different door to the one at which we first arrived, so do a lot of excess walking in the savage afternoon sun. Overshoot the Email Cafe we are looking for, but find it following the instructions. This is typically, downstairs from a very nondescript entrance, but it is one of the largest we have seen anywhere, full of locals playing combat and other games.

The girl beside us spends about 3 hours playing a computerised "spot the difference" game.
The system is quite sophisticated, with Y10 smart cards inserted into the floppy slot, and the time read out on the chip at the end for a refund. The first computer DP found had Windows 2000 Profesional, which we thought might be good enough to accept the card reader, but no luck. Back at the desk, asked the girl if they had Windows XP on any of the machines, and was met with a blank look. She called one of the computer whizzes, but he didn't know either - so much for brand recognition. However, MP spots the Logo on the machine he was using, points it out, and he gave up the machine so DP could bring her card across. Uploaded the diary and a bunch of photos before giving it away at about 9 pm Beijing. Caught a #7 back to the hotel. Ate more of the bread we bought, but neither had much appetite. MP still on a regular dose of the runs, so starts a course of antibiotics. This leaves DP exposed, as it is the last course we have. Set the alarm for 8 am, and have a restless night' sleep, with the air conditioner on the blink, cutting in and out, and dripping water.