The next morning, still enroute to Urumqi, I awoke to sleepy eyed children stumbling out of bed, tiny toes all over. I joined the herd, borrowed some toothpaste and cleaned up a bit. My pal Li Zhou, hooked me up with some green tea that he had generously purchased for me and we listened to some music on our headphones, hoping to make it through the day as the little savages woke up.
Lots of terrifying giggling followed. Omar and I escaped for a while to the next car, but the evil little cats found us, popping their little heads in one by one, creeping up behind me and delivering painful blows to my back. I held back my tears, trying desperately not to cry in front of everyone as they set their sites on a new prey. We were sitting in the aisle, outside the compartment of one of the blue shirted train staff. He made the mistake of leaving his door open while reading a newspaper. The cats were jumped through the doorway, looking under his bed, on top of it and all around, asking tons of questions and settling in next to him. He was clearly in shock. Fearing for his life, he played it cool, then bravely tried to shoo them away without any luck. They giggled and ran around his compartment before leaving when they felt like it and slamming his door shut behind.
They joined Omar and myself in the hall for a bit, and I had to subdue them with some tickling, before they ran off again. Finally we reached the train station at Urumqi. We said our goodbyes and I exchanged info with a college professor and Li Zhou, the high schooler. One of the friendly kids offered to help me pull my heavy backpack down. We went out the platform and the herd lined up for a headcount. Omar, Andy, Mike and I waved good bye and head out. It was raining a bit as we walked down into a Muslim noodle shop. The locals stopped and watched us. Two kids with aviation suited ears stood newspaper hawking forgotten and watched us. They unfroze when I pulled out my camera. We ate some food, then grabbed a bus to another part of town to look for a place to stay. Prices varied a lot so we kept looking until we found a cheaper place. The room was being cleaned so we left our backpacks with them and head out to see the city. We walked around a bit, then hopped on a bus to the Xinjiang Autonomus Region Museum. The museum had amazing exhibits on the wide range of diverse people living in the Xinjiang province. From European/Russian looking Tartars, to Mongols, Han Chinese, Uzbeks, Uighurs and many more. Exhibits showed beautiful handicrafts, clothes, musical instruments and other cultural effects from each of group of people. Other sections of the museum showed excavated remains from ancient civilizations, including mummies. All in all, it was a beautiful museum though it underscored the reality of the province.
From there we head over to the Erdaoqiao Market, which is surrounded by Uighur neighborhoods. On the bus, we befriended some Uigher students who showed us the way as well as a Pakistani businessman working in the area. We went with the students, down to the marketplace. We had heard some nasty racist things said about the Uighur people that really made us mad, before we got there. Various negative attributes were prescribed to this entire group of people by some other people at the museum. I actually met some Uigher students while sitting in the lobby of the museum as well and they were, as most people tend to be, very warm and gracious. The students we met on the bus, were likewise very warm and friendly to us. Certainly you have to take precautions whenever you are in a new place and with new people, but that goes equal for all people, and you don't want to become so paranoid that you fail to see the beauty that exists in the wonderful people you meet along the way.
We looked at music instruments and I saw that a few things I negotiated down in Xian had starting prices of half of what I haggled down to. It was a fun marketplace, with so many diverse people, as we had seen in the exhibits in the museum. This area had a very different feel with signs in Chinese, English, Uighur and some Russian. Four scripts and a multitude of ethnicities, styles of dress etc poured in from all around. There were some mosques, and a beautiful square.
We looked around for some fresh nan, but all we could find were stacks of cold, hard bread at all the shops we went to. Finally, we walked over to an area that was full of outdoor eateries and asked around. Many people did not speak Chinese here, so we had to try and use Arabic and Farsi words with some English and lots of hand gestures and funny faces to try and communicate. People were very friendly. We ate some amazing watermelon and I picked up some traditional music cds. Mike ate some spicy noodles and chickpeas, with flavors quite unique from what we had sampled in other parts of China thus far. At the noodle stand, we finally managed to explain that we were looking for fresh nan, straight out of the tandoor (clay oven). He talk to another kid who had his own stall. Finally the kid at the other stall decided he was going to take us. He walked us all around, weaving through crowds, as we struggled to keep up, until we had walked across a good cross section of the amazing Uighur neighborhood and arrived at a nan shop. They had closed and the boys working there smiled as our nan hunter friend explained what we were after. After much talking, they agreed to bake a batch of smaller sesame buns. Omar tried really hard to get them to make a few nans, but they weren't having it. It was a tremendous amount of effort to start the tandoor, and prepare it for baking bread. Three boys, in a rythmic patterm dunked their head and arms into the firey tandoor, placing the dough balls on the inner walls. They joined us outside after getting the whole laborious process started. A crowd of people formed around us as we spoke to the boys inside and outside the shop. We greeted them with a Salam (Muslim greeting) and that helped to endear us to them instantly, but perhaps more than that just our silliness made them happy. Omar and Andy decided to learn how to count in Uighur. None of these kids or adults spoke Chinese. They looked at us very confused as we explained 1-2-3-4-5, counting on fingers and they laughed and repeated, until finally some people in the crowd figured out what we were after and they taught us.
It made everyone really happy, as we waited for the buns to cook. Omar pulled out a page of Uighur phrases from his book and tried them out, much to everyone's delight. People laughed, but the crowd was actually very friendly. They warmed up to us kids, and lots of little ones crowded around and watched. We kept watch of our things as you need to in any crowd..though I still lost my camera that one time in Mongolia...but people were genuinely curious. The boy who brought us about a mile to the nan shop refused any food or anything in return. He simply helped us and then sped off on his way back to work. The kids at the tandoor didn't try to make any extra money off of us, or be mean or anything but the nicest hosts one could ask for. The humored our silliness and we all spoke to pockets of the crowd in our broken words and smiles.
Eventually the bread was ready and we had 5. One of the boys at the tandoor offered to take a photo of the inside of the tandoor for me and I gave him my camera to do just that. The people were so friendly do us and asked for nothing in return. We offered some entertainment, but that was really all they wanted. One man even offered to let us stay with him, though we graciously declined. One new mother, with her seven month old baby in hand spoke Chinese and communicated with Mike. Andy shared music on his laptop, and had a huge crowd of kids around him and a generously lent hat from one of the children. These were not people who had much in the way of monetary riches, but they were some of the warmest, sweetest people we could ever hope to meet. I think often if you put out a good feeling regardless of whether you feel you are getting it back or not, it brings out that in those around you. It doesn't work every single time, in every situation, but it is the only way I know to make being amidst strangers so enjoyable.
We made our way to the bus station, exhausted, with the help of the Chinese speaking mother with her cute baby in her arms, and the kind man who had offered us his hospitality. We said goodbye and hopped on the bus. Finding the tiny hotel at night proved challenging. We all had some idea, but it took us a long time to trace our steps back and find the landmarks we needed to get there. Eventually we did, only to be told that we had been given the room in error.
Foreigners were not allowed to stay in that hotel, and so we would have to find some other arrangements. They refunded our money and graciously called around to try and find another place. We went off in search of places, carrying our heavy backpacks, but their suggestions were outragiously expensive. Apparently it is common to run into the situation where lower cost and lower quality hotels are not allowed to house foreigners, likely more out of maintaining an image than anything.
So we pulled out the lonley planet guide, called a place near the train station and found rooms at low prices that allowed foreigners. The place is the least nice place we have stayed at. The bathrooms have friendly short doors so you can talk to your neighbors while handling your business, but the halls are dark and instead of keys, you get tags that you show the floor attendant who unlocks your door. Still, thanks as usual to Mike's hard work and Chinese language skills, we got out of an annoying situation and found a decent place to sleep at night.
