Today was Sunday, market day in Kashgar, + by all accounts quite the highlight of the week. Accordingly, + because we wanted to go to breakfast, we made some effort to get up reasonably early. Breakfast, however, was disappointing, + Val, after taking one look at it, changed her mind + left. One could not really complain, for it only cost 2Y, but a boiled egg, some peanuts, some cold meat, sweet bread, + coffee make an unsatisfying meal. I’m afraid the company, too, was uninspiring. There are a lot of people who are either teaching or studying in China who are taking advantage of their summer break to visit the far west but so many of them are achingly dull to talk to.
The market more than made up for the breakfast, however. We walked in along a back route, which by happy chance carried us directly into the most active + lively part of the market. It seems market day envelops the entire older section of town, but the rural section, with all the livestock, vegetables, etc, as well as the most colourful characters, was here. There were hundreds of donkey carts, both parked + on the move, + sheep, goats, horses – there were even a few camels. One man wanted us to take his picture + send him a copy, which we were happy to do, for one doesn’t often get the opportunity to take a close-up of someone’s face. I don’t know how we’ll cope with the mailing, however, for the address he gave us was entirely in Arabic.
We wandered aimlessly, taking in the sights, + sampling some of the more tempting foods on offer – they were delicious. They even had their own version of the Chinese filled dumplings, which they normally eat together with rice + a little turnip – having just eaten, I just had the dumplings. We took, of course, quite a few photos – people here are far less self-conscious, + often, indeed, like to have their picture taken. But in order to obtain non-posed results, we were obliged to snap surreptitiously.
Eventually wandered from the agricultural part, + not knowing the way to cut thro’ to the mosque from where we were, went there the long way round via town. It was almost odd to see Chinese faces again – it was noticeable that they were studiously avoiding the market areas. We were expecting that the Mosque would prove the real centre of the market, but really that wasn’t the case, but we wandered around the streets radiating off from there for quite a while looking at what was on offer. Different streets specialised in different things, this for wood-carving , that for pressed metal wares, another for decorated trunks etc. We bought a nice wooden rolling pin, made by a man on an improvised lathe, spinning the wood with a piece of cord, cutting with a chisel. I think we paid over the odds, but at 1Y, it was ridiculously cheap. We got lost wandering thro’ the back streets, looking for a way thro’, but eventually finding ourselves back at the mosque. We visited the People’s Park, opposite the statue of the Chairman (Val accidentally referred to him as Churchill today; an interesting blunder), but we were too tired by now to appreciate or enjoy it fully, so caught a pony cart back.
We rested for a couple of hours, but I didn’t think we’d seen enough, so at about 6 walked in again. We walked in with Dan + Lisa – Dan had had his wallet stolen from his pocket during the morning. We didn’t stay long – it was still appallingly hot, the dust was worse if anything, + both we + the market had lost our earlier freshness, so back we came. We prepared our own meal for a change, but it was only a partial success. We had cold potato, eggs, tomatoes, spam, tinned peas. Chatted for a time with a newcomer, a Kiwi called Andrew. Another Nepal run veteran, so something in common there, but he also has a few cassette tapes, which he’s happy to lend us.
When’ finally, the weather had cooled, Val + I played Frisbee on the hotel basketball court. We invented a sort of football game. Which was fun, especially since I managed to win, 3-2. Then, the light fading, chatted with Dan + Jude. I sat out in the hall writing till late, there being people sleeping in my room. Naturally, attracted a big crowd of people fascinated by my handwriting. I wish the content would provoke as good a response as the form.
Which actually is something of a lie. The content of my diaries is patchy at best, but certainly needs to be read to be appreciated. But the appearance is immediately arresting, because of the tiny size. And I am sort of proud of it, in my own way, and even now do like to show it to people to see their reaction.
Kashgar would take some exploring to get to know and appreciate it, but undoubtedly it is a glimpse of another culture. And judging by the serious attempts China seems to be making to homogenise the country, one that is likely to fade. Though, to be fair, I expect modern technology would do a pretty good job of that in any case.
As one who’ll never go there but who always wished I had, I enjoyed the wonderful details.