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Published: February 25th 2010
Busy train station
I hate this photo of me but its worth putting it up - the queue goes back about twice the length out of the waiting room!It is almost impossible to describe the last two weeks in Xinjiang. I have tried to keep it brief but as you all know i have a heard time doing such a thing so it is now in two parts! I must first say that my heart goes out to Tom for being a fantastic host, guide and translator and for sacrificing the most important national holiday and the only time in 2 years he has seen his family so that I could enjoy an experience I will never forget...
...42 hours on a train went much smoother than I thought it would. I slept a lot and my spirit was high for the most part. There were a few scary moments when I thought the train had crashed; it came to a sudden halt a few times where bags were flown across the cabin and food/drink as spilt everywhere!
The scenery was quite striking. During the first day we entered the Gobi desert, one of the blandest places on earth. The second day we passed the Yellow River and Sky (God) mountain. Some of the peaks were too hard to distinguish in the landscape due to the snow
capped peaks and the white sky stretching above. We passed the most western point of the great wall, at the start of its 7000km journey weaving through the orient.
We arrived on the 12th, Toms’ mother came to collect us and we took a taxi back to her house on the outskirts of the city of Korla, dropped off our bags and travelled to Toms’ fathers in the centre of town.
He seemed much more delighted to see us than Toms mother had done (although she did not seem unhappy) He shook our hands, poured us tea and broke out a box of the areas’ most expensive cigarettes. He then presented us with a plate of chicken’s feet and I started to get reservations of our first hot meal in 3 days. His apartment was larger than Toms’ mothers, but did not seem quite as stylish. He had a TV, which his mother did not, and a larger second bedroom so we were told we were sleeping here. Both apartments had seating for at least 8 around the low table in the centre of the sitting room.
I was not disappointed with the meal as I kept
my expectations low; he bought out spicy chicken skewers, a local Vigor dish (the Muslim minorities caught up in the riot clashes) which tasted a lot like Mexican taco fillings, sweet and sour lamb (which Tom had specifically requested on my behalf) lotus flower root, a celery-chilli dish (the only enjoyable celery, not in soup form, I have ever experienced) a plate of lamb and vegetables, Vigor bread and chunks of pork. We ate as much as possible and then some, cigarettes and tea being constantly thrust in our faces. When I felt I couldn’t take anymore the dishes were swept away and replaced with nuts, seeds, fruit and a few western-style jelly-sweets that were obviously more rare and expensive and just for us. I ate and ate until I felt sick and was still bought more and more.
A local brand of whisky was poured into shot glasses and toast made every few mouthfuls. I am always dubious if whisky appears clear and was not let down in its strength; it was eventually confiscated by Tom as his father was ‘too drunk’. We were asked to sing an English song but as we couldn’t think of anything we
could remember the words to so we sang a Red Hot Chilli Peppers classic, which Toms father seemed very impressed with.
After dinner we went for a walk in the snow. The temperature was not at all as bad as we expected. We visited the peoples square, with its stature at its centre depicting the minorities and Han-Chinese races living in peace, and enjoyed the red lanterns hanging from every beam above. After a bit of Q&A with Toms’ dad we realised he obviously had a great admiration for capitalism and had a lot of good things to say about our government and politics.
The next morning we had a fantastic breakfast of different style breads, eggs and a bowl of local milk with fresh tea poured in (which was wonderful!)
We arrived at Toms mothers at noon, popped to the shops to pick up some wine and western chocolates for her gift and settled down to eat. Again the meal was an abundance of beautiful dishes. More lotus root and potatoes, this time battered and dipped in the most lush, sweet honey I have ever tasted, chunks of pork in a sweet sauce, lamb and veggies,
Firecracker aftermath
every 2m there were patches of the red plastic everywhere! broccoli and mushroom, an egg, lemon and milk soup and a kale/tree-fungus dish. All were lovely and to top it the wine was gorgeous.
We took a few hours to rest and digest our massive meal and settled down watch the New Years Gala show on TV. The dancing was incredible. Each province had a few minutes allocation for a sketch, acrobatic, Shoulin warrior kung-fu, dance, song or magic act. The lyrics of some of the songs were very striking; ‘the communist way is the best’ ‘the policies are great’, ‘socialism has changed our lives for the better’ etc. Rather than be reminded of the blatant brainwashing or totalitarianism of the media, this celebration only made me think how infrequent it is to hear a TV performance, film, pop song or speech praising our nation for being so advanced in medicine, free speech, democratic elections, free education etc (the list goes on) by any in our generation back in the UK.
Dumplings, the New Years Eve traditional food of the Northern provinces, were brought out close to midnight, followed by pumpkin bread and more of the delicious honey before we set out to start the fireworks.
These
were beyond anything I could ever have imagined. The smell of smoke was overwhelming and the noise was deafening and like nothing I had ever experienced. Long strips of red plastic fire-crackers are set off by every household at the stroke of twelve. The more wealthy families have traditional fireworks and almost everyone has bangers and roman candles.
There was nowhere to turn in the alleys and streets outside Toms without fear of being blasted in the face by something. They were streaming across the ground at your feet, people were backing into neighbours’ lit candles; you just didn’t know where to look, so the best course of action was to either stay inside for safety’s sake or just go with it, which of course I did. It is traditional for everyone to light at least one, so Fenner, Tom and I, with a lighter in our hands, wished each other a happy new year of the tiger.
On the 14th we were woken at 6am by the warzone-noise outside. It is traditional to set off another bout of fire-crackers before the early morning dumplings and is important to wear only fresh, clean clothes (a bit of a
more bloody dumplings
i think i made about 60+ dumplings by this point! struggle at this point) for luck in the New Year. 60+ dumplings were placed before us; I struggled through at least 20 on the search for the lucky coin which I feared I may have swallowed. Toms’ mother later put my fears to rest when she found it and exclaimed her stock would now do well this year. She is apparently very superstitious, having spent 100 RMB to have Toms’ fortune written for him as his New Year gift.
Tom and his mother walked us along the river bank to see the wild swans and then we went for lunch at a Vigor restaurant to sample some local food, which was delicious. We had lamb skewers, rice with ‘yellow carrot’ and a lamb/onion dough fried Vigor ‘dumpling’ thing which was brilliant.
We arrived at Toms’ fathers’ house where we will stay for next few nights in the afternoon, just in time for some local watermelon - probably the nicest melon I have ever had. We settled down for a few hours and wasted some time before the dough and mince/onion filling was bought out to make yet more dumplings, and a friend of Tom’s father arrived. We lit
some more firecrackers and the evenings feast began; gelatine pigs skin, beef sausage, black salted eggs, transparent rice noodles and boiled peanuts. I wasn’t a fan for the most part but the trusty dumplings would be on their way soon.
Once again, the clear whiskey flowed and this time we were also treated to a medicinal alcohol made from deer-antlers, which was sweeter but about 60% ethanol. Toms’ father and his friend got very drunk again and Fenner and I were slightly tipsy. We began impromptu Mandarin/English lessons (pointed at general household items and naming things) before we were treated to a native Vigor dance and song by the men. We were asked again to sing another ‘English’ song, so this time we sang another RHCP rendition; ‘Under the Bridge’!
On the 15th we left for Tom’s step-mothers family’s house. We were welcomed in true Chinese-style with a shit-load of treats, cigarettes and drink. We sat down to a meal of 15 dishes with 12 people crowded around a little table. There were lots of types of sausage, mushrooms, wonderful chicken and a lot of scotch. In addition to the edible food there were also pigs’ ears and
whole octopus legs, which were both disgusting but I gave it a go!
After the meal my mood began to take a turn for the worse. The pressure of constantly having food, drink and fags thrust into my hands was beginning to get to me. I was stuffed to the point of sickness; I had always dreamed of a life of endless offerings of food and cigarettes, without having to clear up after myself, but knowing that I must not refuse said food was making it barely enjoyable. I had tried so politely to refuse the whisky as I was far too drunk to enjoy myself anymore but there was nothing to be done. The room was so smoky and every few minutes I was being asked to dance by Toms’ father and his friend. I started to feel very ill, on the verge of panic, knowing that I had no real choice in anything occurring.
After sleeping off the previous night’s indulgences we woke up early and headed to Toms mothers to catch an hours’ public bus to the countryside to visit Toms’ extended maternal family.
We pulled up at the farm gates and the backdrop
was stunning as the white mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see against the clear azure-blue sky. The house contained a bedroom, with a bare brick wall which leaked warm air from the kitchen stove at the rear. The living room separated these two spaces and that was simply it. We spent an hour or so walking about the grounds admiring the sheep, geese, massive chickens and rabbits and playing with the dog before we sat down to eat. The meal was the largest yet, with 20 dishes spread out before us. I was a little nervous about the large bowls of feet available, of the pig-trotter and chicken variety. Also a bowl of pig tongue and a plate of sheep guts were placed in front of us and dished out onto our plates. I am pleased to say I gave it my best shot and tried every one of them. The pigs’ trotters were a bit of a struggle because of the gelatine appearance and the fact I couldn’t shake the pig-walking-in-shit image from my mind. The chicken feet were disturbing as I placed whole toes into my mouth to grind the very little and tasteless
Me and Tom
in the dodgy richshaw flesh from between the bones, of which you could retract by pulling on the still-intact-tendons in the ankle. The guts were rubbery but the tongue was actually good and the only new dish I went back for seconds.
A lot of bai jiu was chucked around and I was enjoying the conversation through Tom with his cousins and they were taking a stab at some English words which was quite funny. Then suddenly and out of the blue, we were whisked off to the car and told we would be driving 40 minutes to another county to stay with Toms’ aunt.
On our arrival we decided to go for a walk along the river. Tom told us fables that a drink from the river will cause married woman to become pregnant. We got to the bank and the wide stretch of water was frozen from end to end. Tom suggested we take a walk across the ice. I had my reservations but it is something I had always thought of doing, so we tip toed out across the solid banks. My heart stopped a few times as the top snow surface crumbled and cracked beneath us. I bailed
At the farm
in the countryside! out at one point and let the boys do their thing.
We spent a good half an hour on the sandy bank between two trails of the river, throwing mud and stones to crack the ice. After we tired ourselves out, we headed back to the house, passing Vigor BBQs and run down country houses, for another feast of dumplings for what felt like the 100th time and then trekked to Toms’ cousins’ house where we were to spend the night.
We began the 17th by returning to Toms’ aunts and from there we travelled in a group of 11 people to a local restaurant. It was probably the most enjoyable meal out I have encountered so far. There were extremely tender pork chunks wrapped in thin rolls of fried egg, gorgeous caramelized sweet potato, spicy strips of beef, oily-duck soup, sweet potato noodles, smoked pork rips, gorgeous fresh spring greens and the only questionable dish was a fried cow stomach, which really wasn’t that bad!
After the meal we had a brief goodbye at the aunts flat before taking the public bus back to Korla city again.
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Katy Savage
non-member comment
Awesome!!
Hey Love!! Sounds like you are having an amazing time! I am quite jealous! I had a good time in D.C in the snow tho (ate more burgers than i want to think about :s lol) Missing you loads x x x