Bananas Don't Travel Well

Id Kah mosqueOur experience of Kashgar was all backwards. For most visitors, it is the end of the road, as far west as you can go in China, an exotic outpost nestled between the mountain ranges of Central Asia and the far edge of the treacherous Taklamakan desert, peopled by Uighurs whose culture, language, and appearance are entirely un-Chinese. But after two months in Central Asia we were more inclined to appreciate—for purely selfish reasons—the creeping development that has transformed Kashgar into a modern and increasingly Sinified city. Though the advantages to the Uighurs of all this Chinese influence are far from clear, in Kashgar, we found street life, night markets, good food, low prices and down-to-earth service. And, however rustily, I could communicate!

The reach of progress

Despite, or because of, Kashgar's remoteness, it has always been a critical juncture on the Silk Road. Kashgar was where the two main trade routes out of China, which skirted the northern and southern edges of the Taklamakan, converged with the various routes over the mountains to Pakistan and Central Asia. Today, it is still an important junction on these same routes, although the caravans have been replaced with Chinese trucks exporting cheap manufactured goods.

land of opportunity: shoe shine and eyebrow pluckingDespite what the Central Government might say, Kashgar, and indeed all of China's Northwest, was not historically part of China, nor are its people Chinese: the Uighur majority are Muslims related to the tribes of Central Asia, whose lands were occupied by the Chinese in the same way their western relatives' were by the Russians. The Chinese government's policy of "development”, which involves infrastructure building and encouraging ethnic (Han) Chinese to go west seeking economic opportunities, was in full force in Kashgar. Although we were expecting this, we were surprised at just how much the town had changed. Here, on the edge of the world's most remote desert, a large Chinese city has sprung up around the old Uighur town, with all the trappings of the modern world; the Kashgar we visited bore little resemblance to the remote, time-forgotten outpost that fellow travelers described to me fifteen years ago.

Homecoming

None of this was lost on us, but although we had little experience in mainland China, we’ve lived in Taiwan and have a good deal more familiarity and comfort with Chinese than Central Asian (or Russian) culture. “Bring it on!” was all we could think. We headed straight for the Chinese food stalls. Though not, by any stretch, the best food in China, after the culinary dearth of the previous months we scarfed down the steam tray offerings with relish. We also found noodles, dumplings, and more formal restaurants, all offering greater variety and flavour than we'd experienced for months, at much lower prices.

they learn Chinese at schoolThe second best thing about being in Kashgar was that after months of sign language and guesswork, I could communicate using my mouth. I’d heard the common refrain that “Chinese is not useful in China,” and half believed it. The logic goes that there are hundreds of dialects in China and most people outside Beijing don’t speak Mandarin. But I had to conclude that whoever came up with this assessment must either not speak Chinese, or had never tried it out. While for many Mandarin is a second or third language, most Chinese and many ethnic minorities speak it passably. And if I couldn’t understand them, they could usually understand me. My biggest impediment was not the locals, but my own language skills, rusty from seven years of neglect. But I bought a dictionary and found no shortage of opportunities to practice. Over time it came back, recalled from some dark recess of my cranium, and made our travels in China that much more enjoyable. Aside from the obvious practical benefits, speaking Chinese in China makes you lots of friends.

Goodbye Ramadan

dancing in the squareFor all its changes, Kashgar was not entirely devoid of romance. We happened to arrive at the end of Ramadan, and the party went from pre-dawn prayers until well after dusk the next day. Musicians atop the city's main mosque led the celebrations, with men dancing in the square below all day. Children were out in the streets playing with their new toys (toy guns were a popular gift), and everyone was dressed in their finest.

executionerThe next day was Sunday, time for Kashgar's famous markets. We went to the livestock market on the edge of town early: too early, it was another hour before it got going, but we got to see the animals being unloaded. Although the sights were fascinating—sheep and goats roped by their necks into neat lines, a man trimming the fur around his sheep's fatty rumps, horses being test-ridden, old men weighing and haggling over sheep, an escaped bull wreaking havoc among the tethered animals, and lines of shaggy Bactrian camels—the tourist-to-local ratio was far too high for our comfort, and we felt awkward and embarrassed joining the ranks of gawking, camera-clicking tourists.

inspecting livestockAfter a few hours, we headed back to town for the other Sunday market, where everything except livestock is sold. We had heard much of this market's madness and chaos, and seen photos suggesting all manner of bustle, but got there to find half the stalls closed and shuttered. We weren't sure if people were sleeping in after the previous day's festivities, or if the market had been sanitized—the stalls looked newly improved and we wondered if the locals were perhaps being shut out by higher rents or competition from the new Chinese shopping malls.

We spent almost a week in Kashgar, filling our bellies, catching up on some chores, fraternizing with other travellers, and generally recovering from our journey out of Kyrgyzstan. For our onward journey, we opted to take the northern route around the Taklamakan desert, mainly because the rail line made it an easier journey. We were feeling a bit worn out, not to mention tired of deserts and mountains, and were happy to put some miles behind us.

More signs of progress

We headed down to the train station, bracing ourselves for the infamous ticket-buying ordeal. Over the years we had heard much of the mobs of elbowing Chinese and unhelpful ticket sellers, but Kashgar’s railway station turned out to be a cinch. It’s the end of the line, so the place was virtually deserted, and the woman behind the window sold us a ticket on the first try. We put it down to beginner’s luck, but in fact we had very few problems getting tickets anywhere in China. Speaking Chinese helps, of course, but we met tourists who spoke none and were still able to get tickets. The legendary “mei-you” (“no have”) seemed to be reserved for when tickets truly weren’t available (Chinese trains sell out quickly), and most ticket agents were polite enough to help us find alternate seats.

Although the Chinese are not known for their manners in a crowd, the elbowing problem has also been largely solved with a technical solution. In the busier railway stations, the mobs are now corralled into queues by steel barriers positioned in tight lanes so it is physically impossible to jump the line. This does the trick quite well, and doesn’t require changing the behaviour of 1.4 billion people, and counting. Not that this isn’t being tried: we heard that, in preparation for the Beijing Olympics, volunteers have been enlisted to stand in busy areas one day each month to show people how to queue. Will they manage it? Will one day of practice a month really be enough to instil Western manners into the Chinese? We spent two months there, and we doubt it.

We left Kashgar on a train bound for Beijing, obeying the sign at the railway station urging us not to bring kindling or other dangerous items on the train. It was a tourist train, roomier than most, and practically brand new. We shared a compartment with a couple from Beijing. The man was very friendly and extended his invitation to show us around Beijing several times. “I own three cars,” he boasted. The train skirted the Taklamakan desert, the Northern Silk Road, whisking us along at unprecedented speeds for this trip. We were happy to be moving eastward.