Val had been of a mind to push straight on to Lake Dianchi, 3 hrs away from Urumqi, this morning, but that would have meant getting up at 6.30 or so, which I reckoned was crazy, so I’d persuaded her to designate today a rest day, to allow us to recuperate from our journey. We both certainly appreciated it, for neither of us struggled out of bed much before 9.30. And, in fact, it was past midday before anything got done at all. I went down to Val’s room, where I found her receiving Chinese lessons from Mary, one of her room-mates, an American. We’d met Mary before, fleetingly, in Hong Kong, + I had taken an immediate dislike to her then, but she seemed far more amenable + friendly now. She had done an enormous amount of travelling, but at least did not attempt to monopolise the conversation. The 3 of us chatted + generally whiled away the morning in a nicely relaxed fashion. Mary told us that one could buy train tickets from the hotel, so this is what we did, saving ourselves an enormous amount of trouble. To keep things simple, we just bought tickets to Luyyan, the station for the caves at Dunhuang, for Wed afternoon, arriving there Thurs morning. This would leave us 2 nights to spend at Lake Dianchi.
We went off then to buy our bus tickets for that trip – Mary was heading in that direction too, so was able to show us the right place. That transaction completed, Val + I threw the Frisbee about for a while in the nearby park, + then, by happy chance, discovered a beer + dumpling house. It was a mistake for me to drink beer, I knew, for I already had a slight headache, but I threw sense aside, + chased my dumpling (real name – bahtzers) with a huge jug of beer. I finished off most of Val’s too, so even tho’ the stuff is pretty weak, I was a little drunk. We sat with a bunch of local lads, all much drunker than me, but jolly enough. No direct communication, of course, but smiles, back-slappings, + cheers. We even sang them a couple of songs, including, by popular request, “Do, Re, Mi”, one of the very few English songs known in China… the poor people. We returned to the hotel when that party broke up, + still being in the mood for activity, we flung the Frisbee some more in the huge courtyard cum car park cum basketball court.
When the sun got to us too strongly, we visited the local museum, conveniently close. It is devoted almost entirely to the various minority peoples of the area, + even tho’ it’s still in the process of being assembled, was very good. But once outside, we took up our Frisbee again to fling it about the courtyard. Thought we might have got ourselves into trouble when we were approached by 2 Red Guards, one male, one female, + another man, but they were merely coming over to join in for a few mins before going on to less frivolous pursuits.
The evening we spent with Mary. She was leaving this evening for Xian, so was busy packing, a prodigious task, since she is carrying masses of gear. But we all had a good laugh together, magnified when she came up with some BH. A happy phrase. Val was describing an incident when some biscuits she was carrying were spilled all over the floor of a crowded bus, + Mary, misunderstanding, thought “losing one’s biscuits” meant to throw up. It didn’t before, but might now – I shall have to remember it. There was also 20 mins frantic search + increasing paranoia when she mislaid her flash gun, eventually discovering it in a place, she told us, where she never put it.
The munchies got the better of Val + me eventually, + we ran out to get some kebabs, promising to be back in good time to say goodbye, exchange addresses, + help her downstairs with her bags. The kebabs were delicious, hardly surprising in the circumstances, but we seriously misjudged how far away the stall was, + how long it would take to get there. So even tho’ I ran back, leaving Val to pick up some shopping, I was only just in time to catch Mary as she staggered across the street to the bus-stop with her vast pack. So tho’ I could say goodbye, it wasn’t possible to exchange addresses, for neither of us had a pen. All hope is not lost, however, for we both have the address of an Englishman we knew in HK, so he could find himself utilised as an intermediary.
One of the tragedies of travel is the way people arrive, become important, and then disappear again. I had disliked Mary immediately (nothing new there, in my snap judgments), then became instant friends, then lost touch, because of a stupid lack of a pen.
We had really come to appreciate the beer and dumpling places, despite over-indulging whenever we got the chance. Or am I just talking about me here?
