The 29th was a rest and laundry day. The city was dead outside and I was fortunate to be in a quiet place to actually get good sleep. Eating instant noodles and packaged tofu, in hopes of forgetting the animal claw in my noodles. Ugh.
I forgot to mention that when I arrived at the hotel the day before, the ladies commented that my face was the same color of my red jacket. Yeah…I wonder what everlasting damage I’m doing to my skin. Oh well, whatever.
Thanking the ladies for a nice stay, one helps me with the loaded bike down the steps. Of course I can handle this myself but I just gp with it because helping hands are happy hands. Just don’t touch the Brooks.
Taking a deep breath, knowing I’ve got a good 140km+ to the next legit town. It’s already noon and I push off. Passing through the old part of town, I see a camel in someone’s side yard. Sometimes I see camels in the back of pickup trucks. There is something about the sight of this that always makes me smile…like, reaffirming that I’m in the magical land of Xinjiang.
I pass through some small villages, but I’m still skirting along the edge of the Gobi (China side) and the Tianshan Mountains, directly to my left (South). Desert and snow on both sides…don’t you find it strange…sand and snow…together? Makes you think of “hot” and “ice” – which really don’t go together. Oh China, you and your irony.
Lots of camels to the North (Gobi).
Tianshan mountains, fog (smog) to the South.
I now always carry 2 detailed maps of the province I’m riding – after being left in Tibet without a damn clue what I was doing. From the looks of my topo map I’ll be climbing for the next day and a half. All that means to me is more snow and colder. Yae!
Still in the basin and slowly rising, I look North to the Gobi – wondering where Mongolia starts. Then, realizing I have a very loyal riding partner, I take our team photo. I imagine I can see the Mongolia side of the Gobi, as there seems to be a rise out of the basin about 35-50km away.
At around 6pm, I begin estimating how many minutes I have until I need to set up camp. Now, I’m at a good altitude and it’s cold…back to frozen hands. The day is fairly uneventful, even minimal traffic.
I do pass an old Kazakh man on the side of the road with his massive hat and say “Hello” but he looks at me like I’m insane. Well, he did have some crazy dreads in his hair and looked like he had been living in a well…so maybe HE was insane. This is the only part of China (out of 16,000km) where I don’t get random “hello”s. Strange.
The day is coming to an end and near the highest point of the route I notice a white concrete building in the middle of nowhere. There is a telephone tower about 20 meters away and 2 motorcycles parked out front of the concrete establishment.
I pull in for food and hope to find a place to sleep. There is “zhusu” written above one of the doors.
A young Kazakh woman walks out as I pull up.
“You have accommodation?”, hoping she can understand and speak Mandarin. Most men can speak some Mandarin and women generally can’t.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Just one person?”
“Yes.”
“10rmb”
“Okay, can I put my bike into the room?”
She helps me push my bike into a cold room with a 2 meter long platform for sleeping/sitting/eating. In the corner there is a large cabinet. My bike is squeezed between the platform and the cabinet.
The corner near the door is a large drying rack and it’s loaded with meats. The room is dark, cold, and smells like a mix of cheese (not the Western kind) and beef jerky (again, not the kind I’m accustomed to). I take notice of the sausage? and inflated bladder hanging off the rack.
As I walk into the restaurant, an old Kazakh shepherd is walking out and he lets out a noise of surprise, and perhaps, joy. I smile, “hello”, and walk in.
There is a younger Kazakh man sitting in the dining area with no lights on. He’s drinking beer and eating his noodles, dressed in the big bulky pants that have been lined with animal fur.
I order my noodles and stand next to the coal stove that is near the door to the kitchen.
The noodle flavor is fantastic. It reminds me of the taco seasoning you get with your Ortega Taco Kit at the grocery store. Pretty much, delicious, and the best flavor I have yet experienced. The great thing about noodles in China is that you will NEVER get the same tasting noodles.
As I’m finishing, the room is growing darker and darker.
“Big Sister,” the girl looks at me.
I look up and she directs me to follow her. We walk through the kitchen, past the little area of small groceries consisting of cookies, candies, baijiu, cigarettes, and other miscellany, and enter through a door. Dimly lit with one fluorescent bulb.
She tells me the other room is too dark and to rest here in her home.
It’s very new looking and I am assuming she is a newly wed. There are wedding photographs above her bed, one Chinese style the other Kazakh style. The large platform is covered with carpets and a new white bed in the corner covered with a decorative red lace cover.
She directs me to the chair next to the coal stove.
I notice the embroidered pillows and the stack of blankets, everything appearing so clean and new. I’m making sense of everything and these must be wedding gifts. The Tibetans have similar piles, in the young couples homes and tents.
She sits on the platform and we go through the basic questions. It’s confirmed she is Kazakh and she is 23. Recently married, for 6 months, and grew up around Bali.
There are the random questions of “how much did that cost”. It’s a very Chinese thing to do and I got about a half dozen, I let it go.
She tells me the other room is too cold and I can live in her home, with her husband. That is very kind…it is quite warm and cozy.
I learn that most of the decorative embroidery and pillows have been done by her. I tell her I’m not very good and I ask if the blankets were wedding gifts, they were.
Her husband arrives, in his amazing boots and dark brown hair, combed to the side. He may actually be one of the most handsome men, and well groomed, I have seen in a very long time. A very western look in his face, gorgeous and masculine, I am trying to prevent myself from blushing. There is no way I’m going to get a photograph as I turn my eyes away from his. Shameful.
He smiles and I say hello. I am noticing that perhaps he can’t speak Mandarin, as she does a lot of the interpreting. He takes off his knee high boots, which seem very clean and new, and puts on some slippers. His boots are amazing – I would love to get a pair.
After a short rest I am asked to follow her to her in-laws. Not sure what was going on and kind of being dragged, I left my camera behind. Big mistake, not that anything happened to it, I missed some great photo opportunities. Lesson learned.
We enter a much older room, where I’m hit with the smell of the yogurt, cheese, and some meat. I smile. It’s much dirtier by comparison but more of what I am accustomed to.
There is a tiny old woman preparing some tea and cleaning up after dinner. There is an adorable little man sitting indian style on the platform with a tiny little kitten stretched over his leg. He smiles at me while continually petting the grey, sleepy eyed cat.
I’m invited to sit down for some tea. Little sister tells them about me. I am watching the kitten and the old man smiles and notices, I wonder if my smile was beaming that bright. He tosses the kitten to me. She is purring.
I’ve been wearing a piece of black cloth elastic, double wrapped around one of my fingers for weeks and I take it off to play with the kitten. She enjoys it a lot, as do I and the old man watching her. Before I started playing with her, she had curled up on my thigh with a loud vibrating purr.
After a little play, she scampers back to the man and plops on his lap. We both exchange a chuckle and smile.
The old woman is digging through a large sack filled with fur. She pulls out a stiff piece and starts crumpling it and rubbing it together, expressing to me that she is going to use it line the clothes. I tell her my mother makes clothes too, she smiles. She continues rubbing it together, to make the skin softer, letting me know how and why to do it.
Little sister’s husband arrives and his brother is in the corner. His brother is not so handsome.
We have some tea and chat. They are curious to know if Kazakhstan is like the Kazakh communities in China. I tell them I don’t know because I haven’t been yet. My assumption is that it’s not.
The room is decorated in Islamic pictures and embroidered pieces. I’m asked if I can read it and say no.
I ask little sister about the tourism in the area. In the summer, how many tourists come through. She says it’s hard to say, maybe 20 a day during peak season. “The Chinese come to climb the mountains”.
I’m not sure how we got here but we started talking about the minorities and the Han. Oh, yeah!, I expressed that I loved the Kazakhs and they were quite helpful and kind, along with other minorities. Also that there are some unfair things going on.
“What do you think about the Han”, asks little sister.
“Well, they are okay, I guess” with some other stuff I’d rather not discuss here. I use this line when speaking with minorities. Sometimes I will say more, depending on how politically sensitive I want to get and where I’m trying to get the conversation.
Before she asked this, the old woman had said something in Kazakh and had assumed that the mother wanted to know my opinion. Little sister translated what I said and the old woman beams one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. She nods yes while not taking her hands off the stiff animal fur.
Maybe I interpreted something wrong, but I could of sworn that they wanted me to stay another day and mentioned taking photographs. I was asked if I had a camera.
After the tea, it’s time for bed.
Little sister and her husband lie down some new blankets and pillows at the far end of the platform. It’s comfortable and warm.
I wake up around 2am and I could of sworn there was an alarm and a red light going off. The man gets up and adds coal to the fire. Wow, I don’t see this often in China. As I would say, “he’s got good home training”.
Not sleeping well because my bladder is full and I always get these horrible stabbing pains in my kidneys if I can’t take care of it. I will lie here in pain, switching sides until sunrise.
Little Sister
Momma, the next am, taking a break from milking the cows.
