Snoring orchestras, unending wind farms and a slice of Turkey

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After the tiring day in Dunhuang, I looked forward to the night in the train back to Urumqi. The soft sleeper with its clean sheets, its gentle sway just enough to let me drift into sleep and no noise whatsoever. I lay on my bunk, the Mogao caves flooding my mind with the mythical images floating in one after the other. I was basking in my thoughts, feeling every bit of the tiredness that sometimes doesn't let you sleep too easily.

When a certain annoying sound made its way through the layers of images going through my head. It took over all my attention. And revealed itself as a full fledged snore orchestra. I have travelled on night journeys several times. Have had many snorers around me. But never have I wanted to kill one of them. There was a soft purring beat contributed by the man on the lower bunk. While the main artist continued to provide the most dramatic of renditions. It wasn't monotonous. It started slowly but with a strong tone. Slowly the beat picked up. There was snorting, blowing, spurting and coughing. And at the most unexpected time, a crescendo ending a long whistle with reducing volume brought an end to this piece. 2 minutes of silence. Only breathing sounds. the mythical creatures of the mogao caves began to come out of hiding. With caution of course, they were weary after the way they were sent running with the coming of the jarring snore orchestra. But the orchestra had only just started ! With its introducing piece having received so much attention it was only gathering its breath to go for the next round. This time with even more panache. This continued the entire night, each time a little different. With splutters, snorts, whistles and shrieks sprinkled in different places. In between two pieces, the silences only promised for more.

I tried everything. I imagined strangling him, pushing him out the window so he could vanish into the night. I wished the train wasn't so noiseless and that some other noise could drown out the snoring. But nothing worked. I wondered of this man's life, how his family must be sick of his snoring. His wife has probably left him by now and his parents either have lost their hearing or have kicked him out. I just couldn't believe, how could he do this to us. How can he be allowed to make anybody suffer his snoring! After an entire night of this, he finally got off at a station at 6 am and I could get at least 2 hours of sleep.

Back in Urumqi, after a refreshing, bath and breakfast at the hotel, we were on our way to the next destination. Heading to the dustbowl close to Urumqi. The city of Turpan(tulufan). All the way there we were witness to China's wind farms that stretched across the entire landscape. They are producing so much energy out there in the countryside! After looking up wind farms in China I got to know that, China became the largest producer of wind energy in 2010. They have plans of tapping more and more of this resource. Impressed yet again with China's scale (Everything is done in such a big way!) we dozed our way to Turpan. The bus had quite a few Uigher women, one of them voiced her anger about the bus leaving later than the official time. I was very impressed. This Uigher woman who is part of a minority community in China, had such clear ideas about what won't do. Her sharp tongue, I could understand none of the words. But her tones, expressions, body language made it very apparent as to what she was angry about. Here was a woman who wouldn't stand for injustice! I felt very proud of her, even though it was only a matter of the bus leaving ten minutes late.

Our passports/ids and bags were checked somewhere along the highway between Urumqi and Turpan. Xinjiang is still a sensitive zone and the Chinese party is leaving no stone unturned to avoid any more rioting. Everybody having to get off and get ours bags through the scanner was so strange. Felt like we were in a real war zone. It makes me wonder how the first people who went through airport security felt. We're so used to it now, that its part of a routine. But when the same thing happens in a different country at an unexpected place one could feel a little disturbed.

Turpan feels like a desert town in the silk route, though I'm sure there are more authentic places to see that, if you are a silk route enthusiast. Dusty old roads, clay and brick homes and roofs. Grape farms very close to the city center. It had a quaint, slow, lost feel to it. Felt more and more like an Indian town. There hung grapes to dry on their way to becoming ripe raisins. And the air of the town was filled with a sweet, delirious heaviness. Felt like taking a nap in a grape farm under the vines as they filter the harsh sun. A chilled drink was definitely called for.

We hired a cycle and rode to a minaret close to town. It's across some grape farms and can be seen standing tall among the green ground and against the blue sky very clearly. The mosque is in perfect condition and feels like you've been transported to Turkey. It is made of clay, clay bricks and wood. For even though the mosque is all clay on the outside, has nothing of the stones, gems, or marble, or even scale of any of the architectural marvels in Turkey. It does have an elegance which I haven't seen anywhere else. It has very little decoration or motives, only the minaret has 8 different brick patterns. Those too all made with the same rectangular clay brick which made this mosque so beautiful. It felt like a carefully made sand castle having simply risen out of the earth. The massive exterior gave no clue to the secrets within. The first domed space led to the prayer hall at the back. The wooden columnar hall carefully held within all the mass makes for a wonderful spiritually charged space.

On our way back, one of the cycles got punctured and we got a lift from an old woman riding one of the indigenous, fruit cart-tempo hybrid vehicles. She couldn't understand a word of the Chinese my dad tried to speak but understood the problem. She allowed us to put our cycle on to her vehicle, while I sat with her upfront. I showed her the way back with my hands. We rode on, on that hot day on a wide tar road with the sun shining bright. When we entered the complex back to where we'd hired the cycles from, I removed the cycle from the back and before I could even turn to offer her some money or at least a thank you, she had already turned back to go. She didn't even wait for a picture ! I like to think she would think of me at some point in her life, I wish her well all the same.

Back to the bus station from there and to Urumqi. A lovely dinner on the streets, had vegetarian food despite the smells of yummy bbq sizzling on the grills right in front of us! Mom and dad are both vegetarian and I am glad for it. I always end up eating meat when with anybody else in China. Its so obvious to do so, its what their food is. But when eating with my parents the simple foods provide quite a relief. I could feel my stomach's thank you echo right up to my head. I enjoyed a bowl of hot soupy rice and vegetables. And later, was more than happy to fall into the clean and comfortable bed of our hotel.

I'd wished we could have stayed for longer in Turpan. Felt much closer to the silk route-Xinjiang i'd imagined to see. Well, maybe another time.

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Photos

Streets of Turpan
dusty, this one particularly reminded me of Indian villages.

Mosque entrance
Standing strong, beautiful and pure

Urumqi Outskirts
One of the many factories while getting out of the city

The Uigher caps
What lovely shapes and designs

An inside courtyard in the moque
The minaret can be seen behind

The domed space
This leads further to the prayer hall with wooden columns

Sequence of spaces
The corridor next to the prayer hall

Comments

[swaroopa]

Very nice
This is so great. This architecture was so good. I am glad to be here in this place. Doing this sculpture was very hard. Rarely we can find this type of sculptures in India. Thank you.