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Stuck in Turpan at the mercies of a sandstorm and a travel agentAug 14, 2007
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spices and grains for sale in the bazaar
All sorts of caps for the men to chose from
Dried fruit and nuts
| Well, as sometimes happens when you travel (though that reminder doesn't really make me feel any better), I got stuck in a city for longer than I had wanted to stay. I am in Turpan for an extra day. I had hoped to be a few hours into my 24 hour train ride to Kashgar right now; instead, I have to wait until 2 PM tomorrow to start the final leg of my journal across China. There was a sandstorm over this region a few days ago, and there were rumors yesterday that because of it, all trains were stopped. Because Turpan is in a basin and is not level with the desert, it was spared the worst of it, but supposedly buses out of town were having to turn around due to shattered windsheilds from the wind and small stones. The travel agent who was entrusted with buying my tickets clains that the trains were stopped for two days, and since today was the first day there were trains, it was sold out- everything was sold out, from a hard seat to a soft sleeper. Thus, I leave on tomorrow's train. The question remains, however, of whether he told me the truth, or just didn't couldn't get me a ticket for whatever other reason. Compared to what it was like a few days ago, though, Turpan is a different city today. It was like a ghost town when I arrived- few people were on the streets, the sky had a surreal grey color to it (like in Beijing almost, but without 16 million other people there to keep you company), and I really felt uncomfortable. Today, people are out, the sky is blue, and the sun is warm and shining. Looking back, I am pretty sure it's due to the sand storm (which at the time I did not know was occuring). With this extra day, I decided to relax. I wandered around the bazaar/market and sat at a table with locals for lunch. Everyone is pretty friendly- though I get stared at, once I settle down to eat most people don't give me a second look. I guess I do look pretty Uighur, with my backpack by my side and my clothes half-hidden by the table. I ate really yummy dumpling soup- it was a huge bowl, and I was convinced I couldn't finish it, but of course I did. I'm going to go back to that area tonight for dinner, because there were so many other foods I wanted to try. This afternoon I rented a bike (for anyone at Stanford who is reading this, it was like one of Bridgett's bikes got sent to China- that's how bad it was, but for Y3/hour, you can hardly complain). With a bag of fresh grapes in my backpack, I rode along back streets and among vineyards to a place called Emin Minaret, an Afghan-style mosque and minaret (tower) on the outskirts of town. The site itself was pretty, but the bike ride was the best part. Along the streets, I passed men shoveling raisins into the back of a pickup and numerous donkey-pulled carts piled high with grapes and multiple generations of family members. A boy walked down the street with a wiggling chickens in each hand. Every few houses had a metal-framed bed out front: we asked our driver about this yesterday, and he said that people sleep in front of their houses because "it's nice out there". We are still mystified why they don't sleep in back of their homes, or in their courtyards, but the beds have now become a sight I'm used to. On my way back to return the bike, I passed an open door of a dusty mosque where rows of men with square caps on their heads were bowing during prayer time. |
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