Of border crossings

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On September 10th, we left the idyll that was Arslanbob for Osh, 2000km to the south, and the 2nd largest city in Kyrgyzstan. We travelled with an Irishman and a Scots man( there must be a story there..). Sharing a taxi that took us through the Fergana valley, a very wide, flat area of fertile, productive land. It was very hot, hazy and humid, and we were relived to reach Osh after 4 hours in a car that sounded as if it were in its death throes. Whilst planning the journey, our impression had been of an exotic city steeped in antiquity - "Osh is older than Rome" -and boasts the biggest bazaar in Kyrgyzstan. In fatc, it looks like all the other cities we've been to, and so were not overjoyed at the prospect of staying til sunday (5 days), when the Kashgar bus leaves. Whilst the bazaar is certainly vast, the difference is in stature only, as what is on sale is the same tat that you could probably see in any sunday market, apart from such peculiarities as the absurd Kyrgyz hat -the Ak Kalpak -which resembles an embroidered clown's hat in felt, with an upturned brim - worn proudly if a little absurdly by the older men. Another oddity, unique to this region is Kymys, fermented mares milk. It comes in 2 colurs, brown and white, and tastes somewhere between vinegar and lemonade. Not unpleasant, certainly interesting, and very refreshing, taken in small doses. Kyrgyz cuisine had seriously begun to pall by this time. It is based on mutton and onions, and served up as variants of that theme. It's wholesome and tasty but so limited. We've now tried all the local dishes - plov, a pilaff type dish; manty - stuffed dumplings; samsa - a samosa or pasty type pie; and laghman - a pasta and meat & veg mix; but now we're ready for the exotic cuisine of Xinjiang, and the very catholic palate of the Chinese.
One of the joys of travelling in this fashion is meeting fellow travellers from all over, and just how impressive some itineraries are. There's a young Japanese guy staying here who's cycling round the world. It's taken him 3 months to come from Shanghai and he expects the whole ourney to take three to four years... We met another interesting traveller - an American whose job is leading groups on white-water rafting expeditions. He's been on rivers all over the world and has been doing it since 1969! Another young Frenchman, Bruno, who subsequently travelled with us to China, had a darker story to tell. He was beaten up and robbed by two off-duty policemen in Bishkek. He was relieved of his watch, camera and 400 dollars. Our overall impression of Kyrgyzstan was of a run-down, soulless and chaotic country that could be so attractive, as the landscape, its greatest resource, is spectacular.
After 4 days of kicking our heels in Osh, since the Chinese border is closed at weekends, we were very pleased to be leaving. The taxi we had agreed to share with Bruno , was due to arrive at about 1.30am in order to get us to the border by 9.00am, when it opened. In the event, it arrived at 12.30 and we staggered out of bed and down the four flights of stairs in the dark - there was a power cut again. The taxi was a 4WD, and after we'd stowed our luggage and settled ourselves, we realised there was an eagle's claw hanging from the mirror and there were bars at the windows - 'like Jurrasic Park' as Bruno said.
The road to the Irkeshtam Pass was amazing. Just a rocky track, at times completely petering out into tyre tracks across the plains. And this is a route used by enormous Chinese container trucks.. At dawn, we stopped at the highest point of the pass - 4500m - to watch the sun appear from behind the Tien shan mountains in the East. As we watched, to the South the first rays of sunlight caught the snow covered peaks of the Pamir range.
From then on, as daylight grew, the landscape was phenomenal, with constanly changing rock formations. We arrived at the Kyrgyz border at 8am to discover it was closed due to a Chinese public holiday! We'd waited in Osh for 4 days, as we knew the border closed at weekends (and lunchtimes and public holidays!). Someone had obviously forgotten to check the Chinese Public Holiday schedule in Osh, and it looked as if we were going to have to wait at this border point for 24 hours til it re-opened. We were not overjoyed at this prospect. The 'town' consisted of a conglomeration of assorted soviet mobile homes which were just old lorry containers in various states of dilapidation. Dotted amongst them were parking lots for the many chinese trucks that were equally marooned on this side of the border. The whole place was situated in what looked like an old quarry, and had the atmosphere of a gigantic breakers yard: filthy, industrial and marginal. We were stuck, and there was nothing to do but wait............
And then a minbus turned up with a group of assorted europeans on a tour, who were doubly messed up as their Kyrgyz visas ran out that day. After an hour or so of intense negotiations by the tour leaders, the border officials allowed us all to go through and we were taken through the Kyrgyz controls and customs, the barrier was lifted, and then we were on our own, left to drag our bags uphill through no mans land. We were a funny sight - middle aged and sweaty, apart from Bruno. We staggered to the top of the hill, rounded a bend, and there we were at the chinese border - another barrier across the road.
We had been concerned about the chinese officials. Many stories circulated about their slightly hostile approach to foreigners, especially in relation to their interpretation of 'seditious' material in books. It was of course entirely intheir power to refuse entry, which for us would've been a party pooper indeed, to say the least. The Chinese were very thorough, but to our delight were very friendly and gracious. At the last desk of immigration control, there was a device on the desk and you were invited to press a button to select your degree of satisfaction with the service received from the immigration team. We had no qualms about pushing the "highly delighted" button.
As the border was officially closed, transport options to Kashgar were severely limited. the first taxi offer of $150 each was immediately dismissed. The second, $50 for all 3 of us, was happily accepted, and triumphantly we made our way to the vehicle. Suddenly, a bitter row broke out betwen the 2 drivers, and finally our driver apologised and said his 'manager' couldn't let us ride at that price, filled up with soldiers instead, and was off! We wren't prepared to pay the exorbitant sum of $450, so we were stuck. Again, like the other side of the border, it was grim. A couple of rows of tatty lock-ups, a lorry park, and a woman rinsing out some large intestines, while 2 men blow- torched the dismembered head and feet of a cow. It was horribly macabre, and again we thought we were going to have to stay there for the night. Luckily Bruno got pro-active, and wandered off in search of a ride. He came back having found someone who was prepared to drive to Kashgar for $70. Hooray!
His family waved us off, and we relaxed. Not for long. A few kms down the road, he slowed down, and started demanding more money. He spoke Chinese very loud and very fast! It looked as if it was going pear-shaped again but we stuck to our guns, he gave in, and we were on our way again. It was a fantastic road after the dirt tracks we had been bumping along on, but there weree still moments of anxiety when he'd slow down as if reconsidering his decision, and we had visions of being dumped in the middle of nowhere......
As we drove ito the outskirts of Kashgar, we passed factories, warehouses and industrial estates, just as in any big conurbation. A haze of fumes was also apparent, and once more our hearts sank as our fantasy of an ancient Silk Road town was dashed by the grim reality. Driving further into the centre just confirmed it. A huge, wide-laned metropolis appeared before us. Our driver turned up trumps, and we were taken directly to our hotel, and with smiles we said goodbye. A good end to a long and unpromising day - with a Chinese meal at the end of it, and cold Sinkiang beer!
We had a preliminary 'reccie'the next morning, and discovered a great contrast between old and new Kashgar. 'New' is Han Chinese, and built as a celebration of Maoist ideology with very much the same feel as the ex-Soviet towns (there is a huge statue of Chairman Mao in People's Park Square)
'Old' is Uighur the indigenous culture, and the back streets are narrow, with Islamic influenced architecture and a myriad little shops and workshops, with crafstmen making their wares and displaying them for sale: metal workers; musical instrument workers; bakers; apothecaries selling dried snake and tortoise, antlers and other mysterious objects, all ingredients for some medicinal potion. We wandered into a shop full of beautiful inlaid stringed instruments - some with long slender necks to be plucked, others like tiny banjos again with long necks and snakeskin sound boards, and some violin like instruments to be played with a bow and rested on the knee. We asked the instrument maker where we could hear the instruments being played and he gave us the addresses of two restaurants.
We went to one in the evening, and not only was the music good - three musicians, the men singing in Qawwali fashion - but also the Uighur decor was very sumptuous and the food was wonderful with an endless supply of fragrant green tea. On leaving the restaurant and driving back to our hotel, we were astounded to see the city lit up like Las Vegas - every street lamp adorned with a pulsating strip of running coloured light. This culminated at the end of the boulevard with the Kashgar equivalent of the London Eye, exploding in a cascade of light flashing down every spoke.
In contrast to all the Kyrgyz cities we have spent time in, Kashgar is extremely clean and well swept, but the sands from the Taklamakan Desert blow in periodically, filling the eyes and the mouth, and making sweeping a fruitless task.
On the 18th, we left our hotel and headed out to the International Bus Station to catch the 9.00am (Beijing time) bus to Pakistan, travelling down the iconic Karakoram Highway!

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Photos

osh bazaar
tajiki beauty: full eyebrows and gold teeth

Comments

[Steve]

What's a "Qawwali?"
Osh? Gosh! These blogs really do the trick, don’t they? It’s almost like being there with you, not that it would suit me! Crikey no! Still, I bet a nice cup of tea in a Chinese tastes really good after a week on horse-vinegar! You two do know how to have a good time. But this chap Bruno; is he kosher? Doesn’t sound a very French name to me, but what do I know? He might say Stephen doesn’t sound very English. No, that doesn’t work. Anyway, what I mean to say is do please be careful. I expect he’s fine. Nice of him really, to take you two old things under his wing. And the Jap cycling round the world! Fancy that! He wouldn’t want to do it on my old bone-shaker. It’s got four gears, but they’re Sturmey-Archer, tell him. He’ll know what I mean. Heavy? Phew! Anyway he’s probably literally miles away by now, knowing him. What was it like in Jurasic Park? I think I’d enjoy that as long as I was in the car, but my wife says “Don’t be so bloody daft!” and she’s probably right. She couldn’t even get me into the reptile house at Paignton Zoo last Saturday. I like the sound of those instruments you saw. You could bring me back a banjo. “I’m leaning on a lamppost at the corner of the street…” Did they do that one? It’s a favourite of yours Penny, I know. Oh no, that’s a ukulele . I get mixed up. Anyway, that all my news for now. “Carry On Up the Karakoram!” eh?