(Please backdate to 1/26/13)
In the end I found no internet in Turpan and so this post will have to be backdated as well until I get settled in Dunhuang.
I spent much of my first full (and last) day in Turpan by doing some casual sightseeing from places within walking distance of the hotel as recommended by Lonely Planet. I spent the morning walking to the Emin Minaret. It was a three kilometer walk east on the fringe of the town. To get there required a walk down a long, dusty street within a quiet neighborhood of old style Uighur homes. These homes are made of clay and straw mostly and are conjoined with their neighbors’ homes. Each is modeled in just about the same way but just as in Kashgar, each home had a unique door. These doors were different though in that above each one was painted a mural of some active and beautiful scene. Most had Muslim themes: a mosque surrounded by flowers or a palace along a river bank, etc. But many also depicted, in some form or another, the minaret that was located on the outskirts of this neighborhood. Also unique to this area, and just beyond the limits of the neighborhood, were acres and acres of vineyards - grown to disuse due to the winter off-season period - but it is here and just beyond to the east of Turpan that much of Xinjiang’s famous grapes are grown. Apparently the climate is very dry and hot in the summer making it the ideal place to grow grapes. And of course, naturally, Xinjiang produces some very fine wines which it exports all around China - although to be honest I’ve never seen any.
The minaret itself was very impressive. Built by the son of the local king of the Uighurs in the region as tribute to the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty (the Uighurs and the Emperor were having difficulties getting along), the minaret remains in rather pristine condition and when combined with the walk through the quiet neighborhood and vineyards made for a very pleasant morning.
Then I went to the local museum. This museum was built only a few years ago and is by the far the most impressive building in Turpan from a modern architectural standpoint. And it was quiet inside so when I walked in I was approached by a young Uighur who spoke English named Murat Mohammed (or Murat Mumat which I was told is short for Mohammed). He walked with me through each exhibit and in excellent English told me everything he knew about each display (which was a lot because he had just graduated from a master’s program on local history). I was excited to have met such an interesting person (he likes American movies and TV - especially “The Fast and the Furious” and “Gossip Girls”) and to have received a free tour by a local and he was excited to get the chance to speak English and show off his knowledge and pride for Turpan. It was win-win.
I took another round about through the local night market, bought some naan, barbecued liver, and roasted mutton-filled buns for dinner, and returned to the dungeon.
The next morning I checked out of the awesome Turpan Hotel, found the local bus that could take me the hour and half back to the train station, waited for a few hours in the waiting hall, and hopped my last non-sleeper train bound for Liu Yuan (and eventually Dun Huang - my actual destination).
First of all, since I bought this ticket a bit last minute, it was a standing only ticket. Another one of those awkward find a place to put yourself so as not to disturb the real passengers kind of ordeal. So, preparing my legs for eight hours of torture, I located a spot just opposite the cabin attendant’s booth in between cars. It was nice because I had a bit of a lean-to with the sliding door (partially closed) that separated the cars and I could look out the window to the scenery beyond from the cabin attendant’s booth. The first cabin attendant to hang out in there was a skinny, elderly train employee who I later learned the other, younger cabin attendants called “Lao Shushu”, an affectionate term meaning old uncle. He was kind of grumpy and seemed to ignore a passenger asking for help over something I couldn’t understand. But the booth was later occupied with a younger attendant named Chen Zhiqi (陈治歧) who was quite interested in me and invited me to sit awhile in his booth (which the other standees didn’t seem to appreciate too much). He told me he was from Lanzhou (a future destination of mine) and told me there is nothing of interest there and that actually, Lanzhou is one of the most polluted, if not the most polluted, city in the world. But he also told me he was a soccer fan so we had something to talk about. We talked for an hour when Lao Shushu returned and promptly kicked me out, scolding his younger coworker.
I resumed my standing and had the opportunity to watch the goings on of the cabin full of comfortable sitters. Usually on these trains they have other attendants who walk up and down the length of the train with carts full of fruit, snacks, drinks, food items mostly. But this time, in addition to the food trolleys, a man came on three separate occasions to sell random items in which he must have been commissioned by an outside company to sell because they had nothing to do with train riding. Mostly though he was an entertainer. He spent at least a half an hour “selling” each product. He was exactly like the men in the old black and white films, the smooth talking salesmen who went on and on about their product in that funny salesman voice, never taking breaks to breathe. Just an endless string of words about why you should buy this thing, whatever it is. “And women love it to! Why? I’ll tell you why...” he said in Chinese about a belt he was selling. He was animated with hand motions and bulging eyes. He repeated the process at different times throughout the train ride for toothbrushes and children’s workbooks. Whenever he spoke, everyone in the car got up from their seat to go up to and watch the man give his spiel. And he sold a lot of useless stuff! I was very impressed.
Finally, around midnight, we pulled into Liu Yuan station. This was my brilliant plan: take the evening train from Turpan to Liu Yuan station (now in Gansu Province - goodbye beautiful Xinjiang!) which was the only train available to take when I bought the ticket. Then hop a “cab” from the station for a two hour drive straight south into the desert and arrive at the hostel in Dun Huang around two in the morning. When we pulled into the station at midnight in Liu Yuan, I was the only one on a train full of thousands of people to get off - literally, the only one. And it was midnight and cold. Liu Yuan is not really a place. It is just a station built for the sole purpose of providing a place for trains to stop in between dramatically distant stations across the desert. The only settled area nearby is Dun Huang, two hours into the desert. I didn’t realize this when I got off but quickly figured it out when I walked out of the station. Luckily, there were a couple of Chinese men waiting outside to corral any semblance of a passenger hoping to make it to Dun Huang in the night. Relieved by my luck, I took a seat in his public shuttle bus. What I didn’t realize was that he wouldn’t leave until he filled the bus with passengers and I was the first one in. And considering this was the middle of the night, the trains pulling through this station were few and the disembarking passengers fewer. After three hours of waiting, we left the station bound for Dun Huang. I was too sleepy to remember much but I do remember we drove across drastic landscapes of sand dunes under direct illumination by a full moon. That was pretty cool. We got to the hostel in Dun Huang around 5 in the morning and I crashed.
I’m typing this now after my first day in Dun Huang - I’ll save today’s experience for another post. This one is too long.
I’m in Gansu Province now, also famous for its Silk Road roots. Overall, I give Xinjiang Province two thumbs up but, for anyone considering their own trip to the province, I would definitely recommend a trip during the year’s warmer months to get a more nostalgic version of the historic Silk Road. The warmer months also bring more travelers and more opportunities to wander into the hinterland to see the real desert and camels and all that.
Onward!
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| Mural painted above the door of a Uighur home |
I spent much of my first full (and last) day in Turpan by doing some casual sightseeing from places within walking distance of the hotel as recommended by Lonely Planet. I spent the morning walking to the Emin Minaret. It was a three kilometer walk east on the fringe of the town. To get there required a walk down a long, dusty street within a quiet neighborhood of old style Uighur homes. These homes are made of clay and straw mostly and are conjoined with their neighbors’ homes. Each is modeled in just about the same way but just as in Kashgar, each home had a unique door. These doors were different though in that above each one was painted a mural of some active and beautiful scene. Most had Muslim themes: a mosque surrounded by flowers or a palace along a river bank, etc. But many also depicted, in some form or another, the minaret that was located on the outskirts of this neighborhood. Also unique to this area, and just beyond the limits of the neighborhood, were acres and acres of vineyards - grown to disuse due to the winter off-season period - but it is here and just beyond to the east of Turpan that much of Xinjiang’s famous grapes are grown. Apparently the climate is very dry and hot in the summer making it the ideal place to grow grapes. And of course, naturally, Xinjiang produces some very fine wines which it exports all around China - although to be honest I’ve never seen any.
The minaret itself was very impressive. Built by the son of the local king of the Uighurs in the region as tribute to the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty (the Uighurs and the Emperor were having difficulties getting along), the minaret remains in rather pristine condition and when combined with the walk through the quiet neighborhood and vineyards made for a very pleasant morning.
 |
| Emin Minaret |
I took another round about through the local night market, bought some naan, barbecued liver, and roasted mutton-filled buns for dinner, and returned to the dungeon.
 |
| Chinese notice painted on a wall of the Uighur neighborhood promoting Han-Uighur cooperation |
 |
| Detailing above the entrance to a local mosque |
First of all, since I bought this ticket a bit last minute, it was a standing only ticket. Another one of those awkward find a place to put yourself so as not to disturb the real passengers kind of ordeal. So, preparing my legs for eight hours of torture, I located a spot just opposite the cabin attendant’s booth in between cars. It was nice because I had a bit of a lean-to with the sliding door (partially closed) that separated the cars and I could look out the window to the scenery beyond from the cabin attendant’s booth. The first cabin attendant to hang out in there was a skinny, elderly train employee who I later learned the other, younger cabin attendants called “Lao Shushu”, an affectionate term meaning old uncle. He was kind of grumpy and seemed to ignore a passenger asking for help over something I couldn’t understand. But the booth was later occupied with a younger attendant named Chen Zhiqi (陈治歧) who was quite interested in me and invited me to sit awhile in his booth (which the other standees didn’t seem to appreciate too much). He told me he was from Lanzhou (a future destination of mine) and told me there is nothing of interest there and that actually, Lanzhou is one of the most polluted, if not the most polluted, city in the world. But he also told me he was a soccer fan so we had something to talk about. We talked for an hour when Lao Shushu returned and promptly kicked me out, scolding his younger coworker.
I resumed my standing and had the opportunity to watch the goings on of the cabin full of comfortable sitters. Usually on these trains they have other attendants who walk up and down the length of the train with carts full of fruit, snacks, drinks, food items mostly. But this time, in addition to the food trolleys, a man came on three separate occasions to sell random items in which he must have been commissioned by an outside company to sell because they had nothing to do with train riding. Mostly though he was an entertainer. He spent at least a half an hour “selling” each product. He was exactly like the men in the old black and white films, the smooth talking salesmen who went on and on about their product in that funny salesman voice, never taking breaks to breathe. Just an endless string of words about why you should buy this thing, whatever it is. “And women love it to! Why? I’ll tell you why...” he said in Chinese about a belt he was selling. He was animated with hand motions and bulging eyes. He repeated the process at different times throughout the train ride for toothbrushes and children’s workbooks. Whenever he spoke, everyone in the car got up from their seat to go up to and watch the man give his spiel. And he sold a lot of useless stuff! I was very impressed.
Finally, around midnight, we pulled into Liu Yuan station. This was my brilliant plan: take the evening train from Turpan to Liu Yuan station (now in Gansu Province - goodbye beautiful Xinjiang!) which was the only train available to take when I bought the ticket. Then hop a “cab” from the station for a two hour drive straight south into the desert and arrive at the hostel in Dun Huang around two in the morning. When we pulled into the station at midnight in Liu Yuan, I was the only one on a train full of thousands of people to get off - literally, the only one. And it was midnight and cold. Liu Yuan is not really a place. It is just a station built for the sole purpose of providing a place for trains to stop in between dramatically distant stations across the desert. The only settled area nearby is Dun Huang, two hours into the desert. I didn’t realize this when I got off but quickly figured it out when I walked out of the station. Luckily, there were a couple of Chinese men waiting outside to corral any semblance of a passenger hoping to make it to Dun Huang in the night. Relieved by my luck, I took a seat in his public shuttle bus. What I didn’t realize was that he wouldn’t leave until he filled the bus with passengers and I was the first one in. And considering this was the middle of the night, the trains pulling through this station were few and the disembarking passengers fewer. After three hours of waiting, we left the station bound for Dun Huang. I was too sleepy to remember much but I do remember we drove across drastic landscapes of sand dunes under direct illumination by a full moon. That was pretty cool. We got to the hostel in Dun Huang around 5 in the morning and I crashed.
I’m typing this now after my first day in Dun Huang - I’ll save today’s experience for another post. This one is too long.
I’m in Gansu Province now, also famous for its Silk Road roots. Overall, I give Xinjiang Province two thumbs up but, for anyone considering their own trip to the province, I would definitely recommend a trip during the year’s warmer months to get a more nostalgic version of the historic Silk Road. The warmer months also bring more travelers and more opportunities to wander into the hinterland to see the real desert and camels and all that.
Onward!
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