Up in good time, + down to the bus stn. Too good time, really, for our bus didn’t leave till 8.30. But at least by being there early we were able to secure good seats for ourselves. The only other Westerners aboard arrived late, + did not fare so well, but as they were an aloof little clique of 4, who had been in the room opposite to us in the hotel, + had not said a single word, we found it difficult to be sympathetic. The journey was not unpleasant – a mere 5 hrs seemed a snip – + the scenery, snow peaks rising out of the desert, wonderfully impressive. Mixed fortunes at the other end, where we were able to buy our tickets for Kashgar right enough, but weren’t able to find a hotel nearby, as we’d been assured we would be able to do. So, after a few fruitless enquiries, we decided to give up + go for the Kun Lun hotel, for which we had better directions. We boarded the no 2 bus, but were a little disturbed when the conductresss informed us she was dropping us at the Ba Lu Hotel – we had no idea whether this alternative was better or worse, cheaper or more expensive, or whether, indeed, they would let us in. So it was puzzling when the hotel turned out to be, in fact, the Kun Lun. It was only when we realised that Ba LU meant 8 floors, + counted the storeys in the building, that the mystery was unravelled. We checked in, tho’ we had to pay Y5 instead of the Y3.50 we’d heard, but tho’ we questioned this, the woman was perfectly firm, + it hardly seemed worth the struggle, so we surrendered + went to our rooms. Plural, because we’d been separated on grounds of sex. Comfortable 3-bed rooms, both of them.
As soon as we had dropped our bags +, of course, had a cup of coffee, we went out to shop + equip ourselves in preparation for the ordeal by bus we’ll be embarking on tomorrow. On the way out of the hotel, we ran into the American Armenian we’d met in Turfan. He recommended the evening meal at the hotel. We took a crowded bus – nearly all buses in China are desperately crowded – down a few stops to where there were a few shops. So often, the country is so unmaterialistic that anything resembling a shopping centre is simply unthinkable. It took quite a bit of wandering about back + forth along dusty main roads – Urumqi has not inspired us – but eventually we were able to get hold of virtually everything we were looking for: batteries for our radio, so that we can listen to cassettes on the journey; a large bag of sweets; + tins, tins, tins, with spam, sardines, vegetables, fruit; plus the jam + ketchup we’d bought before, our bags threatened (+ were, of course) punishingly heavy.
We did eat our dinner at the hotel, + tho’ the meal itself was disappointing, we did meet again a lot of familiar people. Johan the German was there; Dan + Lisa – with their usual fortune they hadn’t been able to buy a ticket for the following day, so had been marooned an extra 24 hrs in Urumqi; + most surprising of all, Dave + Laraine, just back from a couple of days up at Lake Dianchi, driven back by the bitter cold. Moved to their table once we’d finished eating, + sat talking + eating jars of yogurt. They invited us to their room afterwards – in typical style, they had bought themselves a luxury room, with bathroom, + since we paupies in the dorm don’t have access to a shower, that was a real treat. Generally, a pleasant, chatty evening – such social occasions come along once in a while, but not enough. Another good reason for getting home.
A fairly typical barbed final comment about wishing we were home – anyone would think this was some sort of punishment rather than something we had chosen to do (and could bring to an end, if we chose.) Preparing ourselves for the irdeal of a three-day bus trip to Kashgar. (I had once done the same length of journey from San Francisco to New York, but rather a different proposition.)
