The whole trip was supposed to take 3 and a half days, but exactly what that extra half-day meant had not been made clear, + we hadn’t attempted to ask, partly because of the difficulties involved in asking an abstract question, partly because we couldn’t be sure the information would be accurate, partly because we would likely be depressed by the answer. We both reckoned we’d be satisfied if we arrived in Kashgar by 3 o’clock. But various hints as we went along suggested it might be much earlier, + despite valiant efforts our hopes continued to rise. We set off in darkness, having packed by torchlight, + were only on the bus for 3 hours or so, with no breaks for food, + only the shortest ones for other requirements. When it became obvious that we had at last reached Kashgar, we felt very happy + relieved. The whole journey had not been at all bad – we had simply more or less anaesthetized ourselves.
The Frenchman we’d met on the journey had given us firm directions as to how to get out to the hotel – ironically, part of them consisted of turning away from Mao, Mao in the shape of an enormous statue of the man himself. Especially being laden down with bags, we decided to take a pony and cart out there, a bouncy, jiggly and fun ride, for which we weren’t overcharged too violently. To our relief, there was no problem about getting a room – or rather 2 rooms, , the hotel once again segregating the guests. The place was no palace, but was adequate + clean, + seemed positively luxurious after the primitive lodgings we’d put up with for the past 3 days.
After a shower to wash the travelling dust from our bodies, + a change of clothes, renewing our souls + spirits, we walked back into town to explore. Our first impressions of Kashgar were not very good, since all that we could see were broad streets with new buildings being erected. An awful long way to come for a place that didn’t look as colourful or interesting as Turfan. The major consolation was the people, who really were quite remarkably different. Culturally, it was as tho’ we had wandered inadvertently into Afghanistan or somewhere. Many of the women wore a brown blanket over their heads, to preserve their modesty. It was made of a thick woven mesh so that they could see out. But the men were even better, especially the older ones, patriarchal peasants, generally wearing high leather boots (or just Chinese plimsolls), a heavy black coat, + a variety of headgear: the simple Moslem skull-cap, a Cossack-like fur-rimmed hat, a flat white turban. They had much the same curiosity about us as everyone else in China, but were much more open + friendly, + would respond often enough to a smile + a nod with a smile + a nod of their own. Our opinion of the town itself, however, did not improve with further acquaintance.
We started at the Chairman, + walked around the block. This was a mistake. The block was quite enormous. They say it’s a long road that has no turning, + this must have been the place they had in mind. It was entirely devoid of interest too, + offered no shade from the wicked aggression of the sun. Perhaps worst of all, I was starving – we hadn’t eaten all day – + was searching for any place to eat, growing fainter with every step. The entire block was barren of any food stalls, so in the end we headed towards the bus stn. There at last I found relief, with first of all a couple of pasty-like things, a hard glazed pastry shell with a gristly meat + onion filling – very so-so. Then, that not proving sufficient, a splendid dish of meat, veg + noodles from the place next door. We had heard so many dreadful things about Kashgar food in general, + their noodle dishes in particular, that we had been quite prepared for the worst, but in fact so far they have been quite acceptable meals.
Thus fortified, we set out on our explorations once again, this time taking a bee-line on the main road heading thro’ town. We were looking vaguely for the mosque, tho’ were quite prepared to accept anything else in its stead which seemed interesting. But once again we drew a blank, tho’ at least this time there were a few stalls to break the monotony, and a little shade. But when town looked to be beginning to peter out, we turned about + retraced our steps. On the way back, an old man seated at a drinks stall waved a FEC note at me, indicating his desire to change money, so I sat down next to him, + very soon had exchanged US$100 for 300Y. It was all a bit farcical, I am not the world’s smoothest operator when it comes to such matters, + any pretence of secrecy was shattered by the enormous crowd which gathered around us immediately we stopped. We did find the mosque in the end, quite by chance. It was not a very special building, however, only made interesting by the people there.
We returned to the hotel, + livened ourselves up by drinking a bottle of cheap local wine between us. It tasted just like poor sherry, but packed an enormous kick, + we were both immediately drunk. I ate dinner in the hotel, so somehow had to maintain a reasonable conversation. Completed the day, once the effects of the potent brew had faded somewhat, by playing cards with Dan + Lisa. They’re really not our sort at all, but one takes whatever reasonable company one can get. Products of Stowe Public School, Dan the son of a member of HK Govt, Lisa off to Cambridge.
And in many ways this is the most notable thing about Dan and Lisa, that they went to Stowe. Which is where I ended up teaching, for about 12 years. Didn’t know about the D and L connection until very recently, re-reading the diary, and by this time I had left the school. I did contact the school, and for a while they were quite excited about tracking them down. But they never managed to do so, and in the end it all just petered out. Which was a shame.
We had grown rather protective and motherly about the two of them. all the more so since things kept going wrong for them.
As for Kashgar, we had become somewhat accustomed to the moslem west of China, so it was not all that much of a culture shock.
