GROUP JOURNAL FOR

MONGOLIA, CHINA, KIRGYZISTAN, KAZAKISTAN
THE SILK ROAD
Aug.28, 2003 - Sept. 15, 2003

Day 13 - TUESDAY, September 9, 2003
WEST CHINA AND ON TO KIRGYZISTAN

From China to "Heaven"
by Mary O. Reinhart
MOReinhart@aol.com

Or flocks in rocks,
borders, bags and bureaucrats,
"Goodbye" & "Hi" and
dust, dust, dust as we bump, bump, bump!

Waving goodbye to the whispering ghosts of the Great Game lingering in the old British Consulate behind our hotel, we rushed to the earliest buses yet. Shaking the dust of yesterday's ride through the Pamir Plateau from our shoes, we set out on our travels from fabled Kashgar to little known Naryn, from vast China to remote Kyrgyzstan.

The city was waking up as we turned out of the hotel drive and headed north. Just a few donkey carts were about; the pretty little animals - who keep that part of the world rolling - hopefully refreshed after a night's rest.

Soon we were also rolling along on the city's outskirts and I noticed, for the first time since Beijing, green clad men of the Chinese Army. They were marching in the dust apparently leaving their barracks for a hard day doing whatever it is that they do there. We saw more later and learned that soldiering is a highly prized job but the TV news had just reported that great cuts in their numbers are coming.

We made our way along those roads that are so appealing because of the bubbling irrigation channels and the tall poplar trees that crowd their shoulders. The trees form a green screen through which one can glimpse the threatening desert - the northern reaches, I believe, of the Taklamakan that we experienced in the Turpan Depression.

We paused in our trip at a large adobe compound, the home of a very small, very cheerful woman who was glad to say Hi and have us all in for a visit. She treated us to small green pears from her orchard and graciously showed us about. She answered all of our questions and posed for all of our cameras. She explained that she is 53 and the relative there with her is 70 years old, adding, "We look older because we work so hard." She has 3 kids - the youngest in 10th grade - 6 sheep and no donkey. She walks to the Sunday Market and sells everything when she needs cash. Abdul spoke with her in Uighur and Meli used Turkish. She understood both.

The environment she has created is warm and inviting with lots of bright colors in the painted wall designs (done by a son- in-law), a big showy chest of drawers and lots of nice fabrics. Sparkling clean, clutter-free and opening onto a central courtyard containing lots of plants in pots decorated with panda paintings, the house is a lovely retreat from the harsh landscape around it.

After our good-byes, back on the bus, we felt the desert encroaching again. We soon found relief in Abdul's discussion about his insights into life in Xinjiang. He answered all of our questions thoughtfully and also shared a little about his family. He has lots and lots of siblings and, so far, is the only unmarried one. There may be a little pressure on him in that regard from Mom! He did tell us that he was engaged but that things have not worked out yet due to difficulties with the family of the bride-to-hopefully-be. We wished him good luck and asked if we could do anything to help!

We were now in an area of dun colored stones.

Looking closely, we could spot
Lots of flocks
In those rocks.
Despite our continual mutton meals
There are a few sheep still left in those fields.

We now began to encounter another characteristic feature of that area, Chinese border out-posts, one after another. They lined the road leading to the no-man's land before the actual border between China and Kyrgyzstan. Frankly, I lost count of how many we had to deal with before we got to the BIG ONE. We had to enter some but not others. At one a soldier stood out in the sun under a festive canopy of purple, yellow, white, olive and fuchsia. Should I try a photo? No, no, no, no!

At the BIG ONE we unloaded our luggage and dragged it all into a shabby building full of empty rooms. Then we had to go through the scanners, visa check, customs declarations and an odd device with an unknown "agenda." At that point we each (except Doris who ducked it) had to walk beneath a metal frame and look up at what appeared to be some sort of outlandish device peering down into the whites of our eyes. Was it reading our temperatures? "No", said Larry. "You would have to be on fire for that thing to tell anything!" SARS warning cards were available too. Symptoms? "Then delay your travel!" (Luckily we did not have to leave anyone behind!)

The border bureaucrats in big hats opened bags seemingly at random. Meli had warned us that reading materials always seemed a focus of their searches. Sure enough one seemed to love Sharon's Beijing pop-up book, asking how much she paid. Another read lots of last year's tour journal which I had with me. Diane got through OK! Meli had to undergo a thorough search - vindicating her assessment, she said, that she had purchased "good pieces!"

Finished with that phase, we dragged our luggage through the back door past a big wonderful warning sign about smuggling:

Legislation

Anyone smuggles precious wildlife or its products would be liable imprisonment and to a fine and even to death sentence.

Urumqi Branch, The Endangered Species Importing/Exporting Authority

Saying goodbye to the Chinese customs ordeal, we stuffed our stuff back on our Chinese buses under the amused gaze of Kyrgyz drivers whose huge trucks, loaded with scrap metal, waited their turn. They are exporting every ounce of scrap from their country into the endlessly unsatisfied maw of Chinese industry.

Now we entered the dust bowl of the no-man's zone up toward the high narrow Torugart Pass that was our way into Kyrgyzstan. The lovely cool weather felt fine although Kim did not. She didn't utter a word - neither a "Goodbye" nor a "Hi" - waiting for her sore throat to recover from her cold. Everyone else certainly made up for her silence! And Meli discussed the Shanghai 5 and its potential impact on the economies of these countries.

Smooth highways now. Gravel ones a moment later. Workers using wooden triangles lifted great rocks as they did repairs to the roads. Here we met yet more flocks in rocks. These sheep and goats were being driven down from the high mountains - its getting cold up there now and, besides, school is starting down here for their families' human kids.

Camels were all around too. Our familiar, "Like trying to pass a camel through the eye of a needle" has a counterpart, we learned, in Turkish. It's "As hard as having a camel hop a ditch!"

Most who live here at the edge of the formal border are ethnic Kyrgyzs who are Chinese citizens. They have special passports to allow them to easily cross over to see relatives and retrieve their animals, too, since their flocks don't bother with formalities but plow through the barriers at will.

The road now wound past cliffs on the right and a wide river and flood plains at the left. The passing scrap trucks hurled huge clouds of dust that engulfed us - as did our dust, them!

We saw bleating baby goats on a hill, smiling baby donkeys on the road and a herd of horses lined up - as if they were going through customs! An occasional lone soldier sat among the boulders too. We also came upon a corral full of yaks - apparently brought together for dating (read "mating" here!)

We enjoyed a picnic lunch, prepared by Abdul's Mom, and posed for a photo with a big map of China as a prop - part of our goodbye to this country.

Finally there was the high lonely border with watchtowers on both sides and a nice neat marker in the middle!

Across the dusty expanse we saw the big Kyrgyz bus at quite a distance. The Chinese would not let it park near the line so we had to unload the Chinese buses and drag our stuff far across the boundary. Meli called this power play a new form of Chinese torture.

Abdul helped but could not cross the line. There we said goodbye to him - a fine intense bright man and a fine intense bright guide!

Now we said "Hi" to our new local guide, Kuban, a young bespectacled university student and a would-be international journalist perhaps.

All aboard the new bus -
After its brakes were bled
And Kuban took Excedrin -
We began the border checkpoint dance all over again!

Again, I lost count there were so many places. We stopped at all. Sometimes Kuban took our passports in and sometimes Kyrgyz bureaucrats bordered the bus to look at us - but not our bags.

Then we reached the BIG ONE - a wooden building in a ramshackle Russian style complex surrounded by razor wire. They directed the bus into a huge shed - with big doors at either end ready to clank down if we got out of line? But the good-looking relaxed soldiers inside were kind and funny and spoke English too. They laughed at the bubbles we blew and let us quickly through.

What a desolate place! Not another tourist did we see here - or anywhere throughout this long day. The big Sky Lake nearby - whose bottom never thaws - added one small welcome touch of color.

Kuban enlivened the beginning of our new trek with discussions about his country's history and ethnic make up - the 40 rays on their flag represent all of the groups. He told us about the Manas Epic, eagle hunting and natural history. We discussed the "Sum" and its exchange rate and the fact that it features poets, authors, dancers and thinkers instead of just politicians.

The weather got warmer and warmer. The road got bumpier and bumpier. Ze kept her Polaroid in its case for, despite the fact that 60% of the population is rural, no one appeared in the sweeping countryside except huge animal sculptures, including snow leopards, indicating the reverence for wildlife the people thus celebrate.

Louise, making the most of this time, studied Kyrgyz phrases! The rest of us chatted - in English - between verses of "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and rounds of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" led by the choir star Nancy. Jacqui was perky and pulled together as she always is. We were all amazed at Sasha's skill in driving over the impossible road! Fred felt for sure that Marco Polo had refused to come this way when tales of this route reached him!

Yes, the road was very rough and very tough. We traveled 300 miles plus at perhaps a top speed of 15 mph but often much slower. No wonder that Kuban had needed medication. We learned that the guys had driven down all this way from Bishkek just this morning to pick us up at China!

People coped and chatted, told jokes and napped (Jeanette curled up in her seat like a kitten) and remained cheerful though anxious to reach our destination, far away Naryn.

For a while bubbles bounced with every bump the bus hit in the dust. Darkness descended. The only illumination came from our own headlights. From the back of the bus the big windshield up front looked eerily like a big-screen monitor showing a strange reality TV show.

Then the peace was shattered with the horrible twang of a stringed instrument poorly played and the shriek of amateur Mongolian long song singing (or was it Chinese Opera poorly presented?) and a fair imitation of throat singing! The audience - amused or annoyed or appalled, delighted or dismayed or disgusted - was stunned into silence! No one joined in and even those who could really play and really sing remained mute! Too bad.

On and on and on we went. Had we been born on this bus? Did we grow up in these seats? Would we whither away right here? Oh, my! But the hard long 14 ½ hour ride was a must. No other way there to proceed from one place to the other. And finally through the dark there was a spark! Then another and another! Oh, yes, here appeared the lights of the town we wanted to reach!

Thank Heavens!

Hurrah for the relief represented by the innkeeper in her bright red dress! We rushed from the bus toward a warm bowl of soup, a hot cup of tea and a good long shower at that little gem of an oasis, Naryn!

Yes, I was thrilled to experience that long, long trip from China to "Heaven", The Celestial Guest House of Naryn!

And now it was done!

I shouted "Goodbye dusty bus!" and "Hi heavenly bed!" and put down my head!

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