11am dec 27 -
left Kashgar bus station for Yengesar. the roads are wide and well maintained, the scenery flat and uninteresting - so far.
the colors are dreary, everyone is in black, everyone dresses fashionably alike more or less. every woman in knee high boots, black skirts and fitted coats. every man in black suits and brown fur hats. the road to Yengesar flat uninteresting miles of ploughed fields. very rural and old fashioned with plenty of people riding on donkey carts, going past miles and miles of cotton farm land. maybe other crops as well. guide not particularly informative.
Ali was busy and so was his friend Osman so he put me on to the Internet cafe assistant - another friend- Qasim. he was surprised i wanted to take the public bus and not a taxi. this business of travelling in the rmb8 bus from kashgar and sitting in the opens rickshaw type cart isn't for Qasim - he tells me all his other western clients prefer taxi and best buses - well compared to Pakistan the worst Chinese buses are as good as our best! almost - I'm not complaining, hes wondering what kind of pseudo American am i? maybe a hippie - that's exactly the kind he doesn't want as clients - hes looking for yuppies, paying good tips, travelling almost first class.


in Yengesar, quiet sleepy town all the knife makers at the knife factory had gone off to lunch or namaz, don't know which. did get to see one worker pounding on the knife he was making. bought 4 knives for rmb200 - probably got cheated good, but so be it. its bound to be that way no matter what i buy. these fellows bargain too much. i never know the real value of anything.
lunch 1.30pm Yengesar
samsa, qara chai, uzum(grapes) banana and naan.
having lunch with qasim my guide for the day. we had lunch at a street cafe-- extremely delicious samsa - crisp and hot from the tandoor. washed down with piping hot tea with cloves and some other herb that looks like galangal. grapes and naan. we took our time eating as people asked Qasim where i was from etc-- Karachi Pakistan - really she doesn't look Pakistani---walked around the street nibbling on some dry fruit or the other. there is tons of great dry fruit here. specially raisins, walnuts and almonds and jujube's of all sizes.
i hadn't carried all my money with me so after lunch and knife shopping realized i didn't have enough cash for another day at Yarkand. after some back and forth with Ali over the phone with Qasim, trying to arrange for some friend in Yengesar to lend me some, i decided id rather go back. even though Ali says the Sunday market in Yarkand is authentic and not touristy like Kashgar, including village artists who come out and paint scenery's- plain air style work i guess. was looking forward to it but something changed and i just wanted to get back. i wasn't in the mood for another crappy hotel charging too much, another dusty shabby town no matter how old and historic. Qasim who thinks I'm 40, is a little miffed. I've changed my mind and decided to return to kashgar in half a day - hes disappointed i can tell. not making rmb 50 a day off of me.
9.30pm sat dec 27 Chinni Baagh hotel room
some girl getting hysterical. screaming and crying...i can hear the commotion from my room. too cold outside. maybe ill venture out later. its all quiet again. its been a strange day. i thought id enjoy the two day trip south from here to Yengesar and Yarkand. but no sooner had the bus ride began than i felt i didn't want to go further. maybe i got so spoiled in Pakistan these past two weeks that this indifference and foreignness here has put me off. these aren't pleasant welcoming baltis or gilgitis or shimshalis or gulmities - they're hardened by communist rule and suspicious of every one - bargaining incessantly. welcoming once they know you're fellow Muslim. busy - no use for idle chit chat - and this is so far west - cant imagine what the heartland must be like, Beijing and Shanghai specially

Dec 26 2008
Idgah mosque Kasghar

took a taxi to the idgah mosque right after lunch----started walking around , to realize that it is Friday. everyone rushing into the mosque, ultimately a sea of men dressed in black suits and hats forming row after row, first inside the mosque then the gardens around it, then spilling into the streets.
a string of face covered beggar women sit by the side entrance. i stood by the doorway taking pictures till some of the older men shooed me away. i knew i wasn't doing the kosher thing, but couldn't resist. my foreign looks help me slip through the cracks of resistance and when i say I'm Pakistani makes things even better. 'you musli?' yes 'i musli' 'you don't look Pakistani' 'you speak urdu?' haan mein urdu bolti hun - aap boltay hain? khuda hafez...shukriya, tashakur, so forth. often the eyes fall on my ya Ali pendant--invariably elicits 'you musli' question. i don't think most of them can actually understand its significance, it just looks Arabic and Koranic and that's enough to make me 'musli' and 'meiyman' welcome in their city.
once the prayer finished rows of scarf clad women holding plates of dry fruit, bread, fresh fruit, dates, water etc stood on either side of the front doorway; as the men poured out they'd phooko on the offerings being held out by the women. this went on till the very last man.
ill ask Ali tonight what that was all about. all sorts of Muslims with all kinds of ways of worship.
they've painted the mosque a perfect shade of yellow- painted in all the blue tile work.. . ruined a beautiful old mosque with this white wash--all for the hordes they were expecting after the Olympics, touring this historic outpost of Chinese sovereignty. crying shame ruining a historical building like this.

dap - tambourine like instrument with rings
tambour - 5 string
rawab - also 5 string but harsher sound
ghirjek - like a violin, held over the knee
i walked into a musical instrument store just outside the mosque, ended up spending two hours being serenaded by the dap, tambur and rawab. it was truly lovely. the most beautiful string music. the best part was eating grapes, naan and sipping green tea with the musicians - this was offered to them by the store owner, which they promptly offered me, an i joined in happily. i ended up buying a dap? paid rmb150 after listening to a 2 hour performance - gave the musician rmb 50, he was quite taken aback. such a simple life, just walk into a store, be fed, be entertained and go away buying something with happiness and deep satisfaction
i walk around now slowly taking in the sights and sounds of the heart of this city- life around the idgah mosque. I've stumbled upon a antique selling vendor wed bought some scrolls from last year. i sit outside his old antique stall writing away, while three curious Uighur men peer over me, reading or trying to read what I'm writing.
ended up buying a scrolls for a friend who'd liked mine. one for myself. some oranges, the ubiquitous naan, some raisins, I'm constantly nibbling.
---- now a curious young boy now peers over me deciphering what i write in such a hurry. he got tired standing so hes sitting. now asking me for my pen as 'saughat' ill give it to him in just a minute. Alim Jaan is 8 years old.
4.40pm chinni baagh hotel - back at the hotel I've come to the dining room upstairs to munch on my leftover pilau lunch and hot glass of water. its delicious even cold. they have a Christmas party for 150 people. the waitresses running around putting on last minute touches. the organizers Chinese the workers Uighur. they have some awful blaring Chinese music playing on a large screen TV.

tomorrow to yengesar and yarkand.........

1.30am Kashgar dec 26

have settled into my sleeping bag in a dingy room at the Chinni Baagh hotel. my Pakistani travel companions wanted me to stay at the same hotel as themselves. its cheaper baaji - rmb 25 a night -- i wasn't impressed. too cheap for mighty me. while they haggled with the taxi driver about the fare they had to dish out, i gave my share, rmb 80 to one of the guys, pulled my bag out from the back of the pickup that had carried our bags and walked across to the Seman hotel. wed stayed there last summer. the place was dead - not a soul stirring, dark reception. i ask a random woman coming out of the hotel where is everyone. she points me to the other end of the building. i drag my bag across to the 'front' desk, call out till a sleepy clerk emerges from a sofa in the lounge -- rmb 280 a night for a Uighur style room he says ! we bargain back and forth till we reach rmb 140 for a regular room - i ask to see it. its ok. clean, warm. then he says hell only take cash, one days deposit and pay up for tonight - no credit cards. he knows he has me by the.... i know what I'm doing! I've lost it with this grouch, and just walk right out. sheepishly across the street to the other joint where the Pakistanis are staying, by now tucked into their warm beds. no rooms say the two receptionists! the place is full sorry -- i insist, there has to be ONE room - he says yes come - walks me up three flights of stairs, the room is musty and damp, smelling of smoke - both beds with crumpled sheets, ashtrays filled with cigarette buts - one look and i say no thanks ill sleep on the sofa in the reception area - nope no can do miss. just for the night? nope. meanwhile a sleepy eyed shawlar kamiz clad Pakistani strolls into the reception area asking for water. over hears our conversation. my nephew snores too much, i cant get any sleep, you can use my bed baaji!!!! if you can ignore his snores, i wont be using the bed, its perfectly ok with me! you can take it. thanks but no thanks! so now Uighur receptionist and Pakistani trader begin to list all the other hotel choices - i decide on the Chinni Baagh - only because ive heard and read about it over the years , the old British consulate from the 1800s.
so Abdul Mohd promptly hails a taxi, loads my bag and escorts me to Chinni Baagh hotel - every ones asleep here as well, except its a large place and the one awake person behind the desk isn't a thieving grouch - i get my second grade room at rmb 60 on the second floor - i pay the one day deposit and the days charge. same rule all over Kashgar they tell me??! - except with a credit card this time - Pakistani pal hauls my suitcase up, gets me a flask of hot water for the night. pays for the taxi, tells me to join them for breakfast next morning. i lock the door to my very warm room. tired, hungry, frustrated and feeling terribly sorry for myself, the hell with Chinese and absorbing the culture and learning the language... i sit on the sleeping bag I've spread over the grey bed cover - crack the window open slightly, to the backs of other rooms, draw the curtains so i can see daylight when it arrives, and just want to catch the next bus back to Gilgit - want to cry! too much hospitality and help in Pakistan -- just another $$ sign here, no one cares - money talks and so does language, which I'm not good at whatsoever!
who knows what surprises tomorrow has in store.

dec 25 1.31 pm
we're almost at the Khunjerab Pass. two Chinese trucks are stuck in front of us. they're putting on chains while we sit around watching waiting - i take pictures, write my notes.

the passengers have fallen into a heated political discussion, Musharraf, Taliban, Islam, terrorism, politics, America.... all sorts of views. by and large no love for the Taliban, terrorism and extremism or America. but then most of them are from the northern areas, liberal Ismaili's or shias... one guy is form the plains - long black beard, young, serious looking, speaks punjabi - dosent agree with any of them. theyre on his case - he holds his own, says theyre idiots anyway. baaji what do you think? wasnt musharraf good for us? these idiots got him thrown out. now look what we have. baaji only listens, shes foreign. from karachi, what does she know anyway! bearded youngster only glares at baaji - what are you doing here writing your notes - why arent you home with hubby- his thoughts are written all over his face--- he cant fathom mine, or so i hope. youre one man against 20 of these guys. quit arguing, just listen for a change, i think to myself, feeling sorry for him.
moving again.






At the pass 15000 feet 1.54pm dec 25 - Merry Christmas Pakistan - happy birthday Qaid e Azam!
its beautiful - snow everywhere, the road white and icy, driving like we're on rollers. driver wont stop so i can take pictures- click click click, glimpses, hazy, hurried, missed the ibex, once, twice - got them finally. missed the border posts - a snippet - Pakistan- got the whole Chinese post - too large to miss even in a moving bus.

bactrain camels, yaks roaming, grazing --its 2008, feels like 1889 -
meanwhile stomach growls - been chewing on channa, gurh, apricots, bread, cake - were all sharing. the guys give me a large dollop of cream on paratha - its good for the pass they say - height - you need this or you'll be sick, dizzy, nauseated. i eat away - they needn't know I've been there, done that - paratha and cream how can i say no. yes weakling baji needs it badly.
we clear our first immigration check - soldier jumps on board for the one hour ride to takshkorgan, sitting piled up on bags in an already packed bus. not a smile cracks his face - no chatting in broken Chinese with this guy. stomachs growling louder and louder - hey mister got to get off here. they all talk to him at the same time - baji has to go - stop Ali stop. whats he to say except watch me run out of the bus, poofy down coat, cap almost covering my eyes, gloves, boots, plonk plonk all bundled up running across the snow in the middle of miles of surreal Kirghiz grazing land looking for a spot to poop!
i sit behind a shuttered shepard's hut for 10 minutes - or so it seems. tempted to take pictures as i squat, my butt touching the cold snow, my stomach hurling it all out! hands too cold to use a camera - frozen solid cleaning myself with snow, it was a strange mess--i sat there taking it in and out all at once. took the pictures in spite of it all - in case memory fades and or never get to see this again -
by the time we got to tashkorgan and our third immigration check my stomach had gone berserk. we rolled in at 6.30pm, pitch dark already -20C. i ran to the bathroom at the far end of the grounds like a crazy person. locked! ran right back inside the warm immigration hall for help. qing wen qing wen keys keys - la du zhi le!! no one has keys so i dash right out and simply squat outside the bathroom -- few minutes later Razia joins me - we both smile that smile 'relief'! i calmly walk back looking as dignified as i can - they stick a thermometer under my arm right away - no fever guys, just diarrhea.
baaji you ok? yes yes --- only diarrhea. my most fluent sentence in Chinese - " i have diarrhea " got the whole immigration hall paying attention - damn!
every bag thoroughly checked, walked out the other side and piled in with three of the traders for my night ride to kashgar. stopped for dinner in tashkorgan - no food for me --just a glass of ispaghol and water - thanks to my new found protective friends. piled into the shared taxi ride. i ask the guys - please no smokes - baajis allergic - they oblige again, till a few hundred kilometers and several hours of hair raising driving on a dark icy road --- finally, the hell with baaji and her spoiled ways - we're smoking lady, you can roll your window down and breathe in the -30c air all you want. no they dont say this, but i hear it loud and clear as i breathe in their smoke into my frozen body!

Sost
dec 25 9.45am
got a good nights rest in this warm room and warmer bed - coal burning bukhari stays warm longer, burns more efficiently than the wood - ofcourse they use the coal abundantly for us - we are guests after all, and women and old(er) - imagine having us shiver even for a moment, in this all male world where i have not only invited myself but another female stranger, to use their quarters and accept their hospitality. no cold hearth for us ladies at Mr.Bashir's guest quarters.
Karim served us breakfast exactly at 8.30am as he had promised last night. thick flaky paratha and as many cups of tea as we wanted. i changed into my waterproof trekking pants, silk leg warmers and everything else that could keep me warm and comfortable. we both bought our tashkorgan tickets rs.1800 each. i changed rs.6000 to rmb, and now waiting for customs to open up so we can complete immigration and get going. its another clear sunny day. the town as scruffy a place as can be. i took a little walk thinking id come across something interesting, frost burned cabbage and carrots, men floating around the one street town, dust and exhaust smoke from the cars covering everything that isn't covered by snow, boarded up shops and dead end gallis, is all i found. impatient to leave town now -- though i know ill miss the Mr.Bashirs of the world. we take our own coutry'men' so much for granted - they are the most helpful gracious men I've met - this is true from Pindi to Sost! baggage checked, bodies searched, bus loaded and off we go!
click click click --- write write write, listen, talk, listen, talk, keep clicking - only gets better and better riding on the front seat of this bus to china with 25 Pakistani traders and one chain smoking bus driver - Ali.

dec 24 08 - noon

my journey to china
it began two weeks back from pindi - with detours to shimshal (for a wedding) then in and out of hunza/gilgit/skardu for some time - today finally ill be off on the kkh to Sost and hopefully Kashgar tomorrow from there.
they tell me the border closes on dec 26 - that i should simply go back to islamabad and take the flight to urumqi - no one can comprehend why i want to bus it in this weather - how can i explain myself - its the same as taking cruises - you either love it or you dont. i dont! i need to walk the walk, feel the earth, see, touch, connect with its people, the elements - no air travel short cuts for me, at least where i can use the roads.

to kashgar ----

to the wedding
in the summer we got invited to Nadia's (guls sister) and Farman's wedding in dec-- Nafeesah had planned on attending since she was going to be in islamabad for the winter -- my plans to be in pakistan in dec were completely unplanned and unexpected, but since i was going to be here and going to Kashgar i decided to join her - its on the way after all --Tahir the dad, and Mohi the little brother had decided to join us as well.
dec 11 08 5pm
waiting at the pir wadhai bus station in Pindi for the Andrabi clan -Tahir, Mohi and Nafeesah to show up. bus leaves at 6pm. Gul's escorting all of us. needless to say the Gilgit flight they had planned on taking didn't make it this morning. instead Nafeesah and i shopped for the gold and silver covered tokras, wrapping paper, ribbon, tape, rice, sugar,salt, tea...well pack it all up in shimshal---for the bride and grooms families. add the karachi khawaja and habshi halwa methai id had shahla buy for me and voila! shes excited, so am i - imagine on a public bus on the kkh in middle of winter! Gul says its been snowing in Gilgit and Hunza so who knows what the road conditions will be. imagine Shimshal in winter.
45 minutes into our ride and were back at Pir Wadhai bus stop, engine problems driver has to fix. some folks are pissed - we're chilling -- wasn't exactly expecting bus to break down in 45 minutes, but glitches? normal!

our 18 hour bus ride from Pindi to Gilgit turned out to be a 24 hour journey on the kkh , --- Nafeesah aptly threw up all over the already filthy bus floor as soon as we got off in Gilgit. that's it, ive had enough of this bus ride! puke puke-- wed been in that darned bus a whole long day and night - 6 hours of which were spent in a stationary bus in the middle of nowhere on a gorgeous full moon dec night. does that deserve a little puking or what?
noor ali greeted us and took us for a quick snack to his home, greedy souls we all ate while Gul organised the next bus ride and loaded up our bags. must have been 0 deg outside. we drove on to hunza all huddled in the smaller jeep, spending the night at the embassy hotel -- basic, clean, empty, no hot water. but at rs 1000 a night, decent food, and magnificent scenery -- light snow in the beautiful evening light --- we were simply glad to just be some place closer to our destination. the weather and simple arrangements weren't important.
slept a good nights sleep under heavy covers and woke up to light snow fall and a beautiful winter morning -- the hunza river blue, the only color in this all brown and white landscape. Mohi excited beyond words. us three as well, except excitement gets diluted with age. no jumping on ice puddles, no pointing to every bird, screaming out to dad for every new thing in sight. o well there were other ways ----the constant smiling faces , the always feeling happy, inspite of runny noses, cold feet, cold hands, not to mention cold water, the joy of sipping tea around a small gas stove, the relief of kicking off boots and warming those frozen toes on the same stove that hands were being toasted and tea cups warmed.

dec 13 08 2pm
arrived at Passu, waiting for Gul to arrange our jeeps to Shimshal. we're impatient waiting in the cold afternoon, meanwhile the whole village seems asleep - no ones around. turns out its the Imams birthday so everyones at the jamaat khana celebrating. what a contrast from the summer, barely anyone on the streets, snow covering everything, the scenery even more spectacular and grander than the summer. Mohis getting antsy as hell, hes been talking non stop, asking a gazillion questions, making observations (aloud) writing in his journal all the way so far. you want to give him a huge hug and strangle him all at the same time - shut up already you adorable boy. Nafeesahs still a little under the weather - stomachs acting up. Tahirs blown away with the scenery -wasn't expecting it to be this spectacular. this is even before getting to the Shimshal gorge. me - I've lost my voice almost completely. a little frustrating cause cant talk or sing, but gives me quiet time to absorb, observe and ponder over my own thoughts and feelings without constant interruption of conversation. so while i hug and cuddle Mohi in silence, Tahir answers his every question and nafeesah patiently humors her brother nursing her cramps all the while.