Backtracking again, I took the fast train (25 hours) from Kashgar to Urumqi and found it just as nice as the first time. Maybe it was because the national holiday just ended, but I have never seen a Chinese train so empty—none of the hard sleeper compartments had more than two people in them. My roommate was a middle-aged Chinese woman who spoke no English. Of course this didn’t stop her from feeding me grapes, oranges and pears and forcing me to take a nap during the day. She even covered me up with a blanket when she thought I was asleep. I must have kept her up during the night with my cough because in the morning she forced me to take some dubious-looking medicine and insisted I keep an entire package of throat drops.

My next door neighbor was a 21-year old girl who spoke basic English. Her language skills were better than most “English speaking” Chinese I meet although she apologized throughout the hours we spent talking. Everyone I meet asks me what I like about China and what I think about it. It’s hard to say, the third time around I’ve decided that it seems to be getting a little cleaner and a little more organized. This change of tune may be influenced by the bureaucracy of Central Asia and may be due to the Muslim influence on hygiene in Xinjiang. I did say that the main thing that I don’t like about China is that it’s dirty. The next morning she came back to tell me that, when discussing what I said with her grandfather, he told her it’s not just a social problem but an economic problem. Maybe, but there are a lot of rich people in China these days.

Even though Urumqi, China isn’t a huge tourist destination I really enjoyed my four nights here. Just like the eight days I spent waiting for my Kyrgyz visa two months ago, I spent my time getting massages, buying DVDs and eating some KFC. The longer I travel the more I appreciate these little Western luxuries.

My second time in Urumqi was better than the first, mostly due to the fact that David was in town this time. Most people make fun of me for my internet addiction but many good things come of it. I have met quite a few travelers through my site and David is one of them. He’s been living in Urumqi for a few years now and opened his apartment (and wireless internet!) up to me while I was in town. Although we first met through our mutual blogs (check his out here) we met in person in Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia during the Naadam festival back in July.

Because I was in a comfy apartment with internet access and good company I stayed two extra days in Urumqi. I have to admit, I think I’ve been fooling some of you out there who don’t know me well. While I’ve been writing about the madressas of Uzbekistan and driving around remote Tajikistan I’ve been preoccupied with something other than my surroundings—the new fall TV season. It’s true, I miss my shows. There’s a few that left off on a cliffhanger, Supernatural and The Office come to mind, and I just had to know what happened.

So while I had the opportunity I downloaded some TV, like the first new episode of The Office, off of iTunes. It wasn’t that easy—to download the episode I first had to download the newest version of iTunes and to play the episode I had to download the newest Quicktime. All of this takes a lot of time on a Chinese internet connection and m y old G3 computer. To add insult to injury, once I downloaded everything I discovered that my five-year old computer’s processor isn’t fast enough to play anything on the new Quicktime.

After all of that time I’ve only managed to listen to the new Office, but even that made me feel a little better. It’s okay, besides, I spent a bit of my time in Dushanbe, Tajikistan reading up on spoilers for all of my shows anyway. That goes to show that as far away form “the real world” I get I’ll always find a way to keep up on the little things that remind me of home.

Besides getting my TV fix I took care of other pressing matters, like getting a massage. My first night in town David and I went out for dinner and massage. I didn’t know that you could get an actual massage at a massage parlor until 2am. His friend met us and we opted for the foot wash, which turned out to be a foot soak in Chinese medicine and a leg and back massage lasting 90 minutes. Not bad. We went back for another massage a few days later, this time with one of his roommates and her two sisters. We all got the 90 minute massage, which was unlike any massage I’ve had before. Because “I’m not too thin” I was given the massage almost completely by foot. The young girl stood above me balancing on metal bars attached to the ceiling. It was great because a lot of pressure was applied without the squeezing that always leaves me a little sore. She even did a little twisting and pulling, much like thai massage. At the end she used hot sandbags on my back while scratching it and then cradled me on the front of her legs, rocking me back and forth on the hot bag.

Staying near the University and Uigur district I enjoyed a lot of restaurants and city life I would otherwise not seen. It was especially interesting to spend time with his two Uigur roommates who were more Western than many of the Chinese girls I meet. I even think I managed to get one hooked on Supernatural after she professed her love of Buffy. We also met up for a game of ultimate frisbee with some of David’s local friends and expats who are either in town teaching English or studying at the University. I didn’t think I would do very well with a frisbee, let alone in the rain on asphalt but I didn’t sabotage our team too much. Overall my time in Urumqi recharged me after being worn down by the bad roads, the bad internet and the bad governments of Central Asia.

After sitting around in Osh, Daniel (the Australian thrid of Team America—the name they made up for our three-person travel group in Tajikistan), flew into town and in a whirlwind I was on a bus to Kashgar. Because there was an actual bus we were pretty sure that the border was open. We never got a confirmation on the border re-opening date but we were on schedule to cross into China on the 9th.

Around 8pm, when the bus was supposed to leave, we began to get on board. Another passenger who was late tried to make me move to the back of the bus, where five beds were laid out, but I refused. I was not about to spend the night squished between four smelly Kyrgyz, Uzbek or Chinese men. You’d be surprised what shrugging your shoulders and shaking your head can do when traveling—it’s gotten me out of some uncomfortable situations.

Around 9:30, after negotiating the sell of the remaining beds and filling up with gas, we set off toward Sary Tash and the Chinese border. Neither of us slept much at all because the road is only technically paved and it’s pretty bumpy in most places.

Somewhere around 3am we stopped and I peed in a frozen ditch on top up a mountain pass surrounded by snow and illuminated by a nearly full moon.

At 4am the lights were suddenly flipped on and everyone arround me began to furiously devor loafs of bread and bottles of Fanta—fasting for Ramadan was about to begin. A little while later a bit of music was played to signify sun-up. I was glad Daniel suggested one Snickers was not enough, encouraging me to buy more. One Snickers is never enough in Central Asia.

Although every long-distance bus I take stops all the time, this one barely stopped at all. We didn’t stop to eat (because everyone else was fasting) and we didn’t have many toilet stops because the fasting even includes water. By 7:30am when we arrived at the first Kyrgyz border checkpoint I knew I should go to the bathroom but didn’t think a militray zone was the best place to go off along the road. We were stopped for an hour while the bus driver delieverd a huge stack of passports, each filled with a 500com bribe. Daniel and I refused to put a bribe in our passports. We waited.

The drive to the Kyrgyz border was only thirty more minutes and I was excited to get there so early. I nievely assumed that because we got to the border when it opened we would get through both borders before lunch. While we waited I ran off into the shanty town near the border to deliver photos of the local kids I had taken exactly two month earlier. People in Central Asia rarely have photos of themselves and family photos are cherised. But the town was nearly deserted and the trailer of the little girl who stars in my photos was padlocked. I found a woman nearby who seemed to agree to deliver the photos—the family had gone to Osh for the winter.

The border gate opened and we drove inside, only to be ushered into a shed to wait for passport control. A bus full of people can take a long time to cross a border and we waited for everyone to be checked. There is about 10km of “no-man’s land” before reaching the Chinese border where we were stopped at a Chinese checkpoint. Usually you just show your passport and are logged into a book but we were all required to get off the bus.

Looking back toward Kyrgyzstan, a Chinese tower with a bright red flag billowed in front of a panorama of white mountaintops. All of the passengers were lined up in single file and told to put their luggage in front of them. I joked to the man next to me that it looked like they were going to shoot us but he was busy taking all of the contents of his bag out and spreading them onto the pavement. Apparently we had been instructed to take everything out for inspection but I decided to play the foreigner card and leave my bag closed. Besides, I prefer not to advertise how many expensive things I carry with me.

The Chinese military guards moved down the line looking at everything. The man next to me had what looked like a jar of mayonaise. He has to take a tast of it for the guard. Another man to my right sat while the guard took everything apart, reading personal letters and even then notes from medicine packaging. When he came to me I opened the main compartment of my day bag and pointed to a few things and opened the lid of my camera bag. He pointed to my big backpack and I made a bid deal out of opening it up for him, like he was really requiring a lot of me. He looked at the bag at the top (my toiletries) and let me go. It was all for appearances.

We pulled up at the Chinese border around 11:30 local time (1:30 Beijing time) and filled out the required forms, proclaiming not to have SARS. Daniel got as far as passport control but as the officer began to lower the stamp to his passport he stopped and declared that the border was closed for the next two and a half hours. I tried to explain to the English-speaking offical that we were tired and hungry and that he should let us go. With that everyone in the building cleared out, leaving us sitting on our bags. Four Swiss bicyclists rode up and had to wait was well, jeapardizing their plans to make it 50k into China that day.

The time passed quickly. I wrote in my journal, tried to get the muslim women to eat grapes (aka contraband plant matter in China) and didn’t use the public toilet. When the time came to line up everyone pushed to the front and I was suddenly at the end of the line. I was a little worried that I would pass the temperature test because I had a bit of a cold lingering from Tajikistan. But when I looked into the 6 foot tall scanner my temperature was well under the required 38 degrees.

It took a while to x-ray and then load up everyone massive luggage and we waited in the sun to finally leave to Kashgar. It turned out that over half of the bus passengers decided to take taxis from the border to Kashgar, saving themselves an hour or so. It amazes me that these people decided to take the bus but then were able to afford guard bribes and Chinese taxis.

The rest of the ride to Kashgar was uneventful, aside from a Japanese man being repremanded for peeing on the side of the road in front of a Chinese border control post. Good thing I held out! The bus ride was expensive ($50) and quite a hassle. If I ever find myself crossing that border again I’m taking a taxi.

Could it be? There’s new maps up! Okay, the Mongolian flag sucks and there’s no data for NW China or Kyrgyz but it’s something. If it makes you feel any better, I took a ton of souvenir and sketchbook photos for the relevent sections but haven’t gotten around to writing the code and resizing the images yet. It’s coming eventually.

There are two passes through the mountains separating Western China and Kyrgyzstan. After a lot of research I decided to take the Southern route from Kashgar, China to Sary Tash (and eventually Osh), Kyrgyzstan. This route gave me the opportunity to see the Southern, less Russian, part of Kyrgyzstan. It’s also a lot cheaper and less complicated, the Northern pass requires permits and expensive pre-arranged transport.

After looking around Kashgar for travel partners I finally found two German girls who had already paid for a ride to the Chinese border. Despite the horrible deal they had negotiated I decided to join them because no one else was heading that was any time soon. With my negotiating skills I could have arranged an entire cab to myself for less than I was paying to join them but I figured it was safer to travel through this remote area with two other people. They agreed to share transport all the way to Sary Tash, a small town at the junction of the only roads leading between China, Tajikistan and Osh.

We left Kashgar before sunrise and stopped along the way to take pictures of the beautiful glowing canyons. When we arrived the Chinese border post was deserted. I popped my head in three rooms before finding an official to help us—apparently they don’t get too much foot traffic coming through. We weren’t allowed to walk to the Kyrgyz border, quiet a far distance. Instead, a border guard stopped the next truck passing through and made him give us a ride. The young Kyrgyz driver didn’t seem overly excited about sharing his cab with us and sat behind the wheel staring vacantly ahead. We crept along the winding mountain road behind a long line of trucks. Once we got to the first Kyrgyz checkpoint the guards informed us they were shutting down for lunch. One of the German girls spoke fluent Russian and managed to persuade him to let us through. We grabbed our bags and jumped into another truck which took us to the immigration and customs checkpoint and border post.

Despite the remote location, the Chinese buildings we left were typically sterile and covered in tile. The Kyrgyz buildings, on the other hand, were small trailers and brick halls covered with rusting tin roofs. Beyond the complex’s chain link fence was a group of thirty dilapidated trailers, spare tires and colorful washing lines. Where the Chinese side had been lifeless and sterile the Kyrgyz side had grown a small village around the border. A man waited just beyond the customs doors with his minivan ready for us. There weren’t many people crossing that day and he wanted to get going. Because of the remoteness and lack of passengers we agreed on $50 to Osh. The other two had a ride meeting them in Sary Tash to take them into Tajikistan so they would only go half way with me. At first the girls wanted me to pay more to make up for them, because they weren’t going as far, but I was having none of that. Whenever I try to travel with people like this I always end up in frustrating situations.

We set off and didn’t make it more than five minutes before the minivan broke down. The owner and male passengers stood around looking at the engine while I enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery. Someone even shared their assertive little girl followed me around, showing me interesting things and gathering people for me to photograph. Her sidekick was a small girl with a plastic bag over her head who was bashful but curious. I asked her to take a photo of me and, despite her size, she wielded me heavy camera with ease. She asked to take more pictures so I placed the strap around her neck and smiled. We walked through the dark alleyways formed by the trailers until we reached a small courtyard. The girl motioned for me to follow her inside up the stack of old tires that formed her house’s front steps. It was dark inside but I could make out two women sitting on the floor with bright headscarves covering the tops of their heads. My new friend cried out “mama!” and snapped the shutter. I was invited in for tea but declined, worried that the car might leave without me. Tea can take a long time when you have to first gather something to burn and then wait for the water to boil. I shouldn’t have worried because the car wasn’t fixed but we did manage to leave before dusk. The five hours I spent at that border post were a surprisingly good introduction to the hospitality of the Kyrgyz people. When I traveled back through the pass two months later I brought prints of the photos for those kids—a small gesture that probably meant more than I can imagine to them.

After an hour of driving we came upon another military checkpoint where we all got out and presented our passports to a soldier inside of a small shack. It was already getting quite cold and I was dismayed when the soldier looked at me and then picked up a heavy black phone right out of WWII to talk to his supervisors. We were eventually waved on and headed back out. It wasn’t much longer before the van slowed and we all got out again. The van was broken again. The owner and his friend were already upset about losing the two Germans earlier in the day and the other paying customers quickly found rides with infrequently passing trucks.

By now it was dark, cold and we couldn’t hope for much traffic to pass by. My attempts to pantomime myself into another ride weren’t working out and the others decided to start pushing the van. At first I rode in my seat next to the open door but we weren’t getting far with only one man pushing while the owner drove. I got out to help and we made some progress, but pushing a minivan up a mountain in the freezing night air without a coat wasn’t easy. Once we got to the top of a hill we would run alongside the van and jump in for the ride down. It was fun to try to catch up and jump in, especially negotiating among the seats which weren’t actually bolted down to the floor. Sometimes the van would go too fast and we would give up and walk quietly toward the van breathing the crisp air and taking in the incredibly bright stars illuminating the mountains.

That’s the last thing I remember.

I woke up the next morning inside the cab of a Chinese truck. It was a bright morning and I lifted my head to see that I was surrounded by snowy peaks. I felt tired and my neck was sore—I could barely move it—but my only thought was “this must be Sary Tash. I should take a picture.” My bags and camera were beside me and I took a few photos. Checking he exposure in the LCD I came upon a photo I didn’t recognize—a crashed minivan. Putting two and two together I realized that was my minivan and I must have been in that crash. I couldn’t remember much of the previous day at all after leaving the border and trying to connect the dots made my head hurt.

Looking around I noticed a man sleeping in the back of the cab. It wasn’t long before he woke up and showed me an outhouse and a small home where I could eat breakfast. I was still confused and my head was throbbing to the point that I could barely concentrate on walking in a straight line. The rest of my body was fine apart from a few scrapes on my hands and legs. The blood on my jacket wasn’t my own. I passed on breakfast because I only had Chinese and American currency. Someone in the middle of rural Kyrgyzstan wouldn’t have change for a twenty dollar bill.

My savior turned out to be a Uighur from Urumqi, China so we were able to communicate with my bare bones Chinese vocabulary. He showed me the long trail of China Aid trucks we were a part of and I watched while he talked to other truckers and motioned toward me, telling a story I would soon become familiar with. During the story he made a rolling motion with his hands and said something about a “machina”—the Russian word for car. Once the caravan was ready we climbed into the cab, he handed me half of his traditional bread smuggled from China and we started toward Osh.

The ride was slow through the mountains but I had great views of the countryside from the cab. We passed green valleys dotted with white yurts and men in traditional white felt hats riding tiny donkeys beside the road. When we passed through small towns the locals ran out to watch the procession. Some even threw flowers down in front of the trucks full of shinning red tractors. Most farmers in this part of the world till the land by hand or with small animals so tractors are a great luxury.

At lunch the driver refused to let me pay and made sure I got enough to eat. He even commiserated with me on how bad Kyrgyz food is through a combination of basic Chinese and facial expressions. When we started to get close to Osh we stopped and I saw him talking to another driver, making the “machina rolling” gestures and pointing at me. He was stopping for the night and put my bags into this other truck, which was going closer to town. The driver had taken care of me, fed me and found me further transportation but he wouldn’t take any money, not even Chinese Yuan, which he certainly could have used back home.

My new truck driver immediately grabbed two large white balls of fermented cheese off his dashboard and offered me one. I tried a few small bites so he wouldn’t think I was rude. Fortunately I had already experienced the interesting flavor and texture of fermented cheese balls in Mongolia and didn’t throw up on the spot. We got closer to town as the sun dimmed when the driver found a local minivan bus to take me to the neighborhood I wanted to stay in. He shooed my money away and put my bags into the standing room-only van. The van stopped on a busy four lane street and the driver got out to talk to a cab driver. These buses barely stop to let passengers jump out but the driver parked the bus full of passengers to make sure I was taken care of. Finally, the cab driver looked down at the small slip of paper with my hostel’s address and took me to a phone kiosk. He paid for the phone call to get directions and carried my bags through the alleyway full of garbage and up three flights of stairs. I left two US dollars in his car and followed him up, only to find the hostel full. Although I was invited to stay on the living room floor I decided to get a real hotel room where I could look for any more injuries to myself and my electronics. Through the enormous generosity and caring of the local people I managed to travel across the width of Kyrgyzstan speaking no Russian or Kyrgyz and with a concussion for only two dollars. Sometimes it takes experiences like these to remind you of the inherent good in people.

The next morning I returned to the hostel and sat in the living room deciding what to do with myself. Someone walked into the room and I felt them standing over me. Then I heard a voice say “Megan?” It was Sema, who I had met in Chengdu during Phase I! We had kept in touch over the past year and she was the one who had first planted the idea of visiting Central Asia in my head. It was truly fate that we had ran into each other at that moment and she spent the next three days taking care of me and introducing me to Kyrgyz culture.

Continued in Is There a Doctor in the House>…

Kashgar is an interesting place, but like most interesting places in China I have stayed far too long. I have been in town for five days (at least two days too long) and am ready to move on to Central Asia. The Monday bus to Osh, Kyrgyzstan was sold out and I have gotten no bites from my postings for a taxi share around town. I ended up paying far too much to join two German women tomorrow morning. Because they booked the taxi through a cafe here it is about three times the price it should be. But I paid it and am no longer complaining.

Tomorrow at 5am we leave to cross the border to the Kyrgyz Republic. The two women are only going as far as Sary Tash (about 3 hours from teh border) where they will meet a truck taking them to Tajikistan. So, after we arrive, I have to either find a place to stay for the night or a ride on to Osh. Hey, maybe I’ll be lucky and find a big group sharig a ride to Osh at the border… but I’m not counting on it.

Luckily, I met a German man to hang out with at the Sunday Bazaar and spent part of the last two days bumming around with a Canadian woman and her son. We took the bus out to an intersting Uiger graveyard and met the nice of a friend of hers for shopping today. I did’t buy any of the hats I wanted because I should be coming back through here in October if things go to plan.

As I sit here and type we are getting our first rain storm. Of course, I did laundry a few hours ago and all of my clothes are outside getting soaked right now. Lets all hope I have better luck in the next country!

I’ve added a Kashgar gallery so take a look when you can in the usual place.

Today is my third day in Kashgar and it’s gotten pretty hot. The old town is amazing with winding streets with mud houses and interesting residents. An old man invited me into his house for tea and I sat there for an hour with his wife and mother drinking tea and showing them my family photos. The insides of the houses are very interesting with a tiny courtyard. The wife even let me roam around the upstairs and showed me the front room where all of the family heirlooms are kept.

I also made friends with some local kids in front of the mosque and compared drawings with a little girl who was carrying a sketch board. I will never get used to Chinese tourists standing two inches behind me, breathing on my neck while I’m drawing.

Today was the Sunday market and I really hate to say I was underwhelmed. I went to the animal and main markets and it wasn’t very busy and there were very few nationalities. I’ve spent a few days trying to get a bus ticket to Osh (sold out) or a share taxi (no one’s interested) so it’s been pretty frustrating. Let’s hope I get to Kyrgyzstan soon!

I had a hard time figuring out where the consulate to The Kyrgyz Republic (Kyrgyzstan) was located in Urumqi since no maps or guides include it. Here’s some information to consider if you’re looking for it’s new location at The Central Asia Hotel (no longer next to the Kazak consulate).

Because I had such a hard time, based on information from message boards, I took a taxi from the railway station to the Hua Ling Binguan, which most drivers should know, for 13 yuan. It’s a fancy, large hotel Northwest of Hongshan Park. I went inside and asked at the front desk where the Kyrgyz Consulate was and the woman took me outside and pointed me in the right direction. It’s located in The Central Asian hotel, a 6- ish story mustard yellow building at the crossroads of the two large highways. Because it’s basically on the highway frontage roads it seems hard to get to but you can follow the main road South from the hotel, keeping on the hotel-side of the street, and follow the frontage road that wraps around until it reaches the hotel. The road is small and filled with welders and shops selling tubing and sheet metal.

Alternately, you could take the 109 bus. I can not advise on any of the other buses, because I didn’t ride them and the routes aren’t evident on maps. From the train station I took the #2 until it’s running North and the stops match up with the #109. I switched and the bus heads North and turns quite a bit before getting on the expressway. When it turns East to head onto the expressway you can see the consulate behind you. The bus turns back and exits the roundabout onto the frontage road right in front of The Central Asian Hotel. There is no bus stop here and I’m not sure if buses will stop if you ask. The bus turns into a small bus depot where it ends and you can get off. From here you need to go out, turn left and hike 5-10 minutes back to reach the consulate.

I was told that the consulate is open Monday through Friday from 11:30–1:30 (Beijing time) for applications with pickup at 1pm. A 3-day turnaround costs $112 and 5-day turnaround costs $56. Weekend days don’t count, however, when I applied on a Thursday he told me he would give me the visa on Friday if I paid the higher fee. Because I only paid $56 (in RMB) I had to wait the whole weekend and the full 5 business days.

Please note any changes or information you might have that would help in the comments.

Most people pass through Urumqi (pronounced wOO-loo-moo-chee), the capital of Xinjiang, as quickly as possible. I suspect this is because most guide books describe it as an awful place with nothing to see. Although it isn’t teeming with tourist sites, besides it’s excellent museum, the town is an interesting mix of Chinese and Uigur personalities and customs. Even so, I probably wouldn’t have spent more than a few days here if it wasn’t for my need to apply for a visa to The Kyrgyz Republic (sometimes referred to as Kyrgyzstan).

After arriving by bus in the early afternoon from Turpan it took me nearly four hours to find a hotel that would take me. At the time I was still traveling with Angela, a woman from Taiwan I had met in Jiayuguan, which made it easy to take the public bus to our preferred hotel. They told us they were all full (which later was almost confirmed as a lie to keep foreigners out) so Angela talked to the travel agent near the entrance. She booked a tour to the far north and checked with two German travelers who confirmed that 650 yuan for four days was the cheapest price in town. I waited while the negotiations took place because each hotel she called seemed to be full or not take foreigners. Because the Chinese view her, a Taiwan native, as a foreigner she was in the same boat as me. We finally set out on a bus to the train station where the two Germans were staying. They claimed it was cheap and clean and with a phone call they confirmed they would take us.

The hotel turned out too good to be true. When we arrived and called for more directions we were told that we would be met by a “military-looking man” to take us to the hotel. Each time Angela called she was asked where she was from and she said “here” not wanting to get ripped off. Soon a man in military uniform arrived and told us that the hotel was not sanctioned to take foreigners and that everyone staying there were being kicked out. Apparently the owner had been getting tourists from the train station even though the hotel was not licensed for foreigners. The military was tipped off when he saw four Americans walking out that morning. I have heard of the government run hotels in the 1970’s and the limited hotels open to foreigners in the past but I have never run into this problem before, not even two years ago traveling during Phase 1.

We gave in and stayed next to the train station because it was of the few places left that would accept foreigners. We were told the dorms had no access to showers so Angela and I shared a double room. She was told that 120 yuan was the absolute lowest price but I managed to get them down to 100 somehow, everyone else seemed to be paying 120–180. I think that her Chinese actually makes bargaining harder for her. I usually just shrug and smile because I have no idea what they’re saying to me.

By the time the hotel situation was sorted out it was too late to visit the Kyrgyz consulate (open M–F, 1:30–1:30 Beijing time) and I still had no idea where it was. Angela and I went on errands and had KFC for dinner before I found an internet cafe to look up directions to the consulate. All of the guidebooks say there isn’t one but I had been told by many people that there is one and was able to find vague directions on a message board.

By day two Angela had left on her tour and I was desperately trying to figure out where the Kyrgyz Consulate was on my Chinese language map. The girls at the hotel’s front desk had no idea, and didn’t even know where one of the largest hotels in town was. The travel agent was also no help and shooed me away. I gave in and took a taxi to the Hua Ling Binguan (hotel) for 13 yuan and asked at the front desk. The great thing about expensive hotels is that the staff usually speaks English and is extremely helpful. A woman took me outside herself and pointed out the building and the path I should take. Inside were only a few applicants and English-speaking agents who offered me the choice of getting the visa in 3 days for $112 or 5 days for $56. Either way I would be stuck over the weekend (three days turns into five and five into seven) so he offered to process the 3-day visa overnight for $112. I was tempted, but looking on the calendar, if I got the visa on a Friday afternoon I would miss the day’s train to Kashgar which would have me arriving on Sunday, a little late for me to really take in the famous Sunday market. The bus to Kyrgyzstan is on Monday so I would be pushing myself to make it. I decided to stay a week, having time to relax, get over my cold and coordinate my time in Kashgar a bit better.

With so much time in Kashgar I thought about taking a two day trip to the mountains but decided that I would be seeing that sort of thing (sans Chinese tour groups) in Kyrgyzstan. Instead I rationed out the tourist sites in Urumqi at no more than one a day. The museum covering local ethnic groups was excellent, with a large amount of costumes and objects that I always enjoy seeing. This wasn’t written about in any guides, but I found it the highlight of the museum. Artifacts from caves and tombs in Xinjiang were also represented as well as the famous Loulan Beauty and her other mummy friends. The descriptions of a “fair haired beauty” are exaggerated—the woman had dark brown hair and a Western (ie “big”) nose and looked of Middle Eastern descent. I thought the other mummies were more interesting, especially their clothes and painted faces.

One of the days I had decided would be a “computer day” got turned around completely. I was sitting outside my hotel eating a popsicle and waiting for the maid to clean when I met two students from Harbin who spoke surprisingly good English. Toddy and Vivi (their assumed English names) were traveling on break and wouldn’t spend more than 10 yuan each for a room and were talking to me while they took offers from the train station touts. I haven’t seen anything less than 40 so it must be so much cheaper to travel as Chinese (or at least mainland Chinese). Vivi hadn’t told her parents she was traveling during break and they certainly didn’t know she was traveling with her boyfriend because she hadn’t told them she had one. They were both very scared to be traveling in Xinjiang and thought that everyone would rob them.

The couple invited me to go to The International Bazaar with them after they got a hotel and I decided it was best to change my plans and take advantage of the free interpreters. Vivi told me her major in college is Dutch, to which my reaction was “why?” It took me a few hours to figure out she was saying Deutche, as in German. Her rationale was that not as many people learn German as English so she would have a better shot at the German companies in China. She had lots of questions about German people’s “character” and sadly noted that her German teacher was “a gay” and that made her sad. She wanted to know if this was normal and I tried to explain that the majority of people are not gay but that some people are and it’s pretty widely accepted these days, especially in Europe. She acted very young for a 21-year old and pouted a little and repeated that she didn’t want him to be a gay because he is alone and the rest of the school’s teachers are women. I decided that she was mostly upset that he didn’t have enough dating prospects and had some sort of romantic idea about life in general. Still, she didn’t understand the concept of “being gay” which was pretty funny. I tried to explain that some people just like different people and she just couldn’t grasp the idea. Toddy was a bit more reserved and usually had a little smirk on his face when conversations like this one came up.

I mentioned Tibet when I was talking about my trip plans and they laughed when I said many people think of it as a different country. Their reply was that it was a different country a few thousand years ago. When I mentioned the 1950’s they had no idea and replied that I probably think that Taiwan is a separate country too. I replied “of course it is!” They laughed really hard at that. I didn’t push the conversation at all, they were openly talking about it, but with the expected Chinese opinions. Besides the serious discussions we also talked about pop stars (the only Chinese band I know is S.H.E. which disappointed Vivi) and I watched them eat a lot of fruit—mainly watermelon. We ate at a noodle shop where the staff gladly posed for photos and the promised “not spicy” dish had chilies in it. They told me many times that this bazaar was very famous and I had to see it. They even made me pose for a picture in front of it. It looked brand new to me and they agreed that it had only been built a few years ago—which explains why it’s so famous in China I suppose. They love to see touristy things but not real things. In my experience most Chinese prefer to see a replica of something rather than the original.

The rest of my time in Urumqi was taken figuring out the train schedule, getting two massages and spending an afternoon at Hongshan Park. The park is on a large hill in the center of the city with lots of trees for shady picnics and good views from the top across the city. I found a young Chinese tourist with a professional-looking camera to take my cartwheel photo at the top of the hill while an Uigur couple looked on in amazement. A man was selling photos with a monkey dressed in a costume for 5 yuan but I didn’t go through with it. Although I love trained animals dressed in clothes I still felt like it was mean to the poor monkey and didn’t want to support his abuse.

I wrote a wonderfully long post about The Gobi (finally!) but somehow forgot to put it on my thumb drive to upload today. In any case I can give you backdated entried about Naadam here and Lanzhou here. You’ll find some more photos from Urumqi in the gallery and a few more food and design photos. There’s also a new poll in the sidebar.

This morning I woke up around 11am Beijing time and got things together to pick up my passport at the Kyrgyz consulate. Before I left I remembered that I had been given a reciept but hadn’t seen it since. When I was standing at the counter a week ago I specifically remember getting the reciept, thinking “this is important” and then putting it either in my wallet or with my envelope of money. I remember this because I almost put in my passport and then realized that would be stupid because I had to turn in my passport to get a visa. Anyway, I searched everywhere, even in my books and the reciept was nowhere. So I rushed out of the hotel with a photocopy of my passport in hand and hoped they wouldn’t be too hard on me.

When I got off the bus and hightailed it to the big yellow hotel where the consulate is located I held my breath. I was about 7 minutes late and the man behind the counter was waiting for me. He looked at me and said “where is your reciept?” Before I could finish “I lost it but I have this…” he handed my passport over to me. So, there you go. I have my passport and even stopped to make photocopies of my new visa on the way back. It doesn’t start until August 7th (there’s no buses to Osh before then anyway) so don’t expect to see any beautiful mountain photos until well after then.

Although I have been using the same internet place this whole week today I was confronted with a slip of paper asking for my passport. I said “no.” Then she asked me my name. I asked why. She went onto the computer, using her translator and came up with the word “passport.” My answer to that was a shake of my head and the word “yuan.” I took my money and found another place. Although I am a little paranoid I refuse to give my passport to use the internet. That’s ridiculous. At least my last city in China, Kashgar, should be more interesting.

Can you believe I’m updating again? I’m sure you’re starting to get sick of me. But you’ll all be complaining again once I’m in Central Asia on a mountain somewhere staying in a ger with no electricity.

I’ve updated the gallery. Now, NW China is up to Urumqi! The Urumqi, Food and Design galleries will probably be added to but I’m putting up what I have so far. Now you can get an idea of the landscapes I’ve been traveling through for the past week or so.

Today was hot and my hat came in useful. I took a bus up to the Xinjiang Museum which had loads of costumes, jewelry and musical instruments from each minority in the region. I did some drawing and walked back almost the entire way to the hotel, stopping for a coke in a park and to get my first batch of cartwheel photos developed.

The actual cartwheel photos often don’t live up to my expectations but these were pretty good. Not too much stomach (the key is to tuck your shirt into your underwear!) and not obviously over x-rayed. I’m slowly amassing more things to ship home even though I just sent a package from Hohhot.

I will admit that I had KFC for lunch and also bought overpriced cola flavored gummy worms. Even though it’s 11:45 pm I haven’t had dinner yet but I may pick up some ramen on the way across the train station plaza to my hotel. My cold feels better today and I’ve been drinking the medicine/tea the pharmacist gave me. When I tried to take a shower this morning there was no hot water (but I have an electric tea kettle in the room for my ramen) so I really hope there’s some tonight so I can finally get clean.

Just before coming to the internet place I bought my train ticket to Kashgar (Kashi on the ticket but called “Kashker” by the Chinese). First I went to my hotel room and emptied all of my pockets and left my bag. Pickpockets are horrible at Chinese train stations. I wrote down the date and Chinese name for Kashgar on a piece of paper to give to the clerk.

At 9:45 the station was much more empty than usual but there was still a group of 20 people pushing in a crowd to stick their hands in first for a ticket (instead of standing in line). I waited a bit and finally got to the front and asked what time the train to Kashker was. She told me “no” and pointed for me to leave. So I checked the schedule on the wall, compared Chinese city names/characters and figured out there was a train that left around 4pm.

With that train number written down I pushed my way in and slipped the paper to the clerk. She pointed to the next window—I guess she was returns only. Finally I pushed my way through my third line, holding my pockets, and the woman was very nice and explained that the train was at 12pm. I picked the other train on the schedule because I have to pick up my passport and visa at 1pm and can’t leave before then. She spoke English, surprisingly, and told me in not so many words that the train I wanted was from Kashgar to Urumqi so it wouldn’t work.

I had to buy a ticket for the train on the 3rd instead, meaning I will be here one more night than I thought. All middle beds were sold out (already!) so I had to buy a lower bunk. They’re slightly more expensive but I’ve been enjoying them on this trip. my last time in China I bought upper beds but I don’t want to have to take off my shoes so much. I’ve since realized that the train is 24 hours and will have a lot of lounging/non-sleeping time which means I will have to share my bed with the other passengers as a bench a lot of the time. That doesn’t thrill me so much but at least I have a ticket. It’s already Sunday here, I hope everyone’s enjoying their weekend and keeping cool.