desert of the east

okay, i know, i know. string of inadequate excuses, pitiful groveling... and i'm back again. now for the rest of my trip.

it's kashgar, and jay and i want to see a real market. on tips from travelers we convince a confused taxi driver to drop us off along a desert road. once we shut the door and he drives away, the exhilaration sets in. men wearing green and white square shaped skullcaps and dark colored suits, hands clasped contemplatively behinds their backs, huddle around vendors who talk loudly about the groups of sheep they have tied together in the center of the circle. more wandering reveals cows, horses, yaks, goats. outside the livestock area, there are piles of watermelons by the road and vegetables on the backs of carts. one man gets his head shaved outside while a young boy watches.

turns out though that we're the strange ones. more people are watching us than we are watching them. doing double takes, looking at our clothes, probably wondering what we're doing there. i like to take this as a sign that we're being good travelers.

still, just as we're starting to feel kind of uncomfortable, the amazing happens. out of nowhere, a bus of tourists from japan arrives. not just any tourists, but a full procession of tourists on a photo vacation-- many draped with huge lenses over outfits that appear to be able to protect from the most extreme conditions: khaki fishing vests, cargo pants, bucket hats and surgical masks.


back at the hotel, a rundown former british embassy, jay and i have a few beers with our new friend marcus, a swiss guy in his forties. we recount our stories of the sheep, the yaks, and everything we've seen.

'yes, but this place is nothing like it used to be,' he says. 'before, there were no taxis, just horse drawn carts that would drop you off right here in front of the hotel. i walked around town today and i couldn't find a single horseshoe welder.'

the concrete buildings are rising up from the dusty streets of kashgar slowly and steadily like weeds. development a la 'shake and bake.' lined with neon signs, nights are something out of blade runner in the middle of the an empty blazing hot for miles and miles.

even still, it's all new to me. predominantly uigur muslim, xinxiang, in the northwest of china, is nothing like the china that you would imagine. duck into a back alley in the old town and you can lose yourself in a maze of adobe alleyways, ducking under wood beams, turning corners that lead down more alleyways. each humble home exudes pride, bearing an elaborately carved wooden door in bright colors that stand out against the desert streets. women in hijabs, turn down the streets, bringing home groceries, gossiping with friends.

if you think you've never heard of it, xinxiang is featured in several films, including crouching tiger, hidden dragon (jen runs away to the desert of xinxiang, where she meets her love interest), and the kite runner (afghanistan, uh, wasn't an option).

check out the xinxiang pics if you haven't seen them yet.