dec 29 1.10 pm Upal -stopped for lunch at this one street truck stop town. Men playing the ubiquitous billiards outdoors, bread, boiled eggs, fruit, noodles, kababs, rice all being sold by the road side and at the only restaurant. 17 year old cute looking kid, Ali Mo and 28 year old Uz Mahamet - the best shot - - looks alot younger, play with a couple of other boys. me clicking away, asking nosy questions, getting in their way -- they're somewhere between irritated, curious, and showing off their best shots.

2pm off again. after a tasty kabaab naan lunch. this time roghni type naan- more flaky - heated over the bukhari in the crowded restaurant. soft and delicious. tasted great. the men paid - wont let me pick up my paltry tab!

chinese restaurant Tashkorgan

7.40pm dec 29 - tashkorgan
the bus dropped us off in front of a grimy hotel in this one street town, its bloody cold -30c or so - my Gilgiti friends want me to check into this very place. this is where they're staying - costs rmb 25 they tell me...you can imagine the rest. the Chinese group took off, looking for a place for themselves. im sure they found decent lodging - i wasn't planning on walking from hotel to hotel in these temperatures, so i walk a few hundred yards and find my self a place that looks a degree better than the first one. my room in this wonderfully dingy hotel with no hot water, costs rmb 60 - as much as the luxurious Chinibaagh in Kashgar!
I've dumped my back pack in the high ceilinged room, and tried to slip into town without the helpful Gilgitis noticing me. want to find my own dinner, explore the town even though my feet and hands are beyond frozen and i don't know a soul here! those darn foot and hand warmers are for sissies... they don't work on suckers for pain like visitors to tashkorgan in dec!
i see a restaurant sign on a small hole in the wall inviting door- i walk in, past the heavy plastic flap door, right into one happening dinner party in this Chinese eatery. All the men fairly drunk, all the women downing cha and juice. Everyone in a merry mood; welcome me right in - to the only empty table behind them - the place is tiny - one bukhari in the center- ive barely sat down and they've had three toasts to something already. I've taken 6 pictures of them toasting. eating like pigs - smoking like chimneys - the good life in Tashkorgan. -33c outside! they drink, eat, drink, eat. plate after plate of delicious looking Chinese food - no one minds the -F grade looking kitchen where its all being churned out from. the cheerful patrons scream for the waitress every few minutes, more, more, hurry lady we need the grub- shes going back and forth--probably spat in the stuff a hundered times already. here you are, you drunken fools.... theres even a little adorable baby in the midst of all the revelry -Jiang Bi Bing - burst into tears when i carried her - leave me alone you old hag strange face from mars!!! go kiss your own sort.
every few minutes they toast to something. one jolly bunch.
they insist i join their table, and taste their food - as drunk as they are they're careful not to offer me pork or alcohol - i had told them i was Pakistani and Muslim via LA - so they pour me peach drink - what the ladies were drinking - and toasted another half a dozen times to me! for lack of a better idea, i sang 'happy birthday to you' to one of the toasts. they all joined in. i promised to send them photographs of the evening. they promised to look me up in LA.
This has been the liveliest exchange of words and most enjoyable evening in China so far. but then its only been a few days.

my own paid meal

a plate full of garlicky greens
one pot of green dish water to down it

and two hours of friendly lively drunk company.
rmb 10
Im beginning to like this----next year inshallah!

have a dull headache, probably the elevation, 12000 ft, perhaps too much garlic and not enough water. though ive been drinking gallons of insipid green tea for the past 4 days. or more like, all that waitress spit.........mixed with the strain of speaking Chinese with less oxygen in the brain.
looking forward to tomorrows drive over the Khunjerab Pass, to Sost and home.

8.40 am monday dec 29

the commotion outside woke me up. just as well cause reception never called at 7am as i had asked. it was 7.40am. packed my things and went straight to the check out desk, snowing again. called a taxi. traffic moving gingerly on the slick streets, like the women in their high heeled boots. taxi driver was quick to turn right out of the busy main roads and take the side streets instead. got to the bus station to find that I'm the 30th passenger on a 38 passenger bus. so no front seat for moi this time. hope some considerate Pakistani will allow me to sit by myself. we'll see. meanwhile i sit in the restaurant next door to the bus stop, for a breakfast of the ubiquitous tasteless watery green tea, my favourite - qitiq (yoghurt) - and naan i bought form a street vendor outside the restaurant. they eat a steam bun of sorts, that they break in pieces or bite into, with a plate of soupy looking vegetables and meat. chai of course. some kind of b rated war movie dubbed in Uighur on TV. cant make out which country. the actors or uniforms aren't familiar. strange how watching a movie even for 10 minutes or so transports you right out of where you are, into the other world of the movie. better than sitting in the drab bus station. lesson learned - don't carry so many things- travel light - 2 pants - 2 shirts - 2 socks 2 sets of undergarments, one towel, one sleeping bag, one pair of shoes, minimum toiletries, camera, extra batteries, pens paper/note pads, map, pillow,water bottle, diarrhea, headache and cold medicine (R1 R4), gloves hat sunglasses and money. next time that's all i need.

10.50am snowing - were standing outside - controlled chaos by the bus - the conductor loads up, taking bribes form the Pakistani traders for the excess luggage they're carrying, once hes got all that done, hell load us ordinary folks. hes got everyones passports and tickets, hes raking it in. its bloody freezing, theres a group of Chinese from Beijing, traveling to Pakistan, touring would you believe! some speak a little English, one of them fluently - studies in Chicago, nephews off to Pasadena in a couple of months!!! wants to do his mba. starting at PCC (Pasadena city college) at this rate well be waiting our turn for another hour. they all know the game well, bus conductor and traders. they all speak each others language literally and figuratively. theres much argument and discussion, slowly but surely the samaan is getting loaded on top of the bus. once that's done they'll open the bottom hold for a our luggage. wish i had a movie camera to film all this excitement. the Chinese tourists are pretty calm and pleasant about it - never a shortage of surprises here.

11.40am bus is loaded to the gills. were packed in here like sardines. I'm sitting in the second last row - over the wheels! bags all around me - 4 fellows from jhelum sitting in the last row. (they're deportees) people passing bags in through the windows. my old Gilgiti travel companions have squeezed themselves in right next to me- zulfiqar talks too much - beggars cant be choosers. were sitting 5 in a row even though there are two seats on each side. Aslam, zulfiqars uncle is alot more soft spoken and helpful in a gentle manner. promised to get me a seat up front a little later. doubt very much if anyone is giving up their front seats.

moving out of the bus station 12.10pm! got here at 7.40am

Bus talk

sanawar gateway hotel gilgit

gemstone business

works through Naghma gemstone -

mining in jun july aug sept - village sumayar nagar

mine at chimar bokor 18000ft for

aquamarine pink and red flouride quartz and hepitite

all this form a fellow traveller - one of the add on passengers in tashkorgan - young skinny with long shinny hair - has invited me to come see the mining work up at 18000 ft! hell take me himself. any time you want baaji. come stay with us for a few months

n.y Pakistani fast food restaurant - syed mohd shah, chacha to mohd farooq gilgiti - another chatty travellers info for my records

and so they each go on---i listen mostly, to their own discussions, as they chat with me telling me what they do where theyre from, asking where im from, what i do or rather what am i doing (here)???? trying to learn Chinese by travelling to china.. in 5 days??? in winter??? theres a much easier, better way to do this baaji-- rent your self an apartment in kashgar for 6 months.. go stay in the summer and talk all you want - will cost you alot less and you'll look alot nicer too!!!!(i imagined they were thinking that-- what does she look like under this grimy garb of feathers??)

11am dec 28

this morning my eyes had opened to snow flakes quietly falling on the window pane.. what a soothing way to wake up to dreary surroundings! decided to walk around town, and ended up with breakfast in a minuscule chai khana by idgah mosque -- i share a table with a family of teachers - he Dulkun, teaches mathematics, she Nisa Gul teaches Uighur literature. they live in Yawagh with a 9 year old son Dili Murat. its sunday, they're enjoying this treat of samsa and a thick flaky paratha filled with lamb, onion and spices . very tasty
the side door to the id gah mosque is slightly ajar.
i walk in and unhurriedly take in the peace and quiet. an old Uighur man or two strolling the snow covered gardens. couple of men sweep the snow flakes and leaves away. they don't take notice of me-at the door leading out the ticket keeper asks for money.. i tell him the other fellow at the other entrance let me go cause im 'musli'...he says no youre not musli..i show him my ya Ali pendant---he smiles and says ...go go yes you musli....



8pm dec 28 - Chinni Baagh hotel restaurant

dinner with the waitresses--

mao shui wong - is what they're eating - this very hot soup

bai kai shui - hot water - is what I'm drinking with 'goosh naan' and shi liu (anaar)

I'm actually eating with the food and beverage manager Li Yi Yen Jun - they call her Yen Jun. she offered me some of her food, some pillau.

if i hang around here for a month or so I'm bound to improve my Chinese not to mention learn some Uighur as well. but not this time----I'm beginning to make friends, beginning to like the people, connect with them,and I'm leaving just as I'm getting familiar with my surroundings. I'm sure it will be easier next time. i wonder where ill land, back here in kashgar or further east. who knows--for now I'm headed back home. this most unaesthetically modern city, this dreary, dull, dusty landscape, this at once old and decrepit yet totally modern new city will have left a profound imprint on my life. for this is the very first time I've travelled by myself in a foreign country with a foreign language - the works, and yet left out wanting to go back for a longer time. i will remember my December in kashgar forever.

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!