Paper Airplane

Honestly, I feel as if I haven’t been taking enough photos. Today I went to the market and didn’t even make it across the street before chatting with a 32 Uyghur man in English. Our conversation was about politics and religion and lasted for about an hour. We are meeting for lunch tomorrow.

While we were talking, a Uyghur woman approached who could speak Chinese. She’s a modern woman with no head scarf and I even noticed a small tattoo on her hand. She took me eat somsas (spelling?) and then we walked around teaching each other language. She must be in her 50’s or so, but it was lovely. She bought me a little bag of popcorn.

Not successful with photos today, or too many in the past 5 days. I’m reminding myself that without fixers, I need to dedicate time to making my local contacts. It’s part of the work that HAS to be done. My phone book now has 3 local numbers, along with a friend in Xi’An that is helping arrange his friends to meet with me.

Last night, I was walking around, and I saw a side of young and hip Kashgar. Young boys with slick hair riding on scooters and young ladies squeezed into skinny jeans, face made up, and no head scarves. The night life here must be interesting…I need to make some modern friends.

Speaking of “modern”. Alim’s mother wants to show me how to “cover” and pray. Wow…how deep do I want to go down this road. He asked me how I could believe in Evolution? I even noticed him getting a smidge angry about it. Between the language barrier and the religion, this really is a topic that should not be discussed. I believe what I do and religion will never sway me from scientific facts. Sorry Alim, I can’t change my convictions, as you can’t yours…but I will respect them.

Spending time with the family I’m beginning to see deeper in. There is a wealthy uncle, that married into the family, and I’ve seen him twice. Every time he slugs Alim in the chest…and hard! There is no warning. I hear the thud, and turn away, only to peek at Alim’s face and he struggles to hold back the face of pain. I can hear him make noises while holding it back.

I believe Alim’s brother is autistic. Watching him fumble around on my computer and watching interactions, that’s my opinion. Uncle will do it to him too, but not so hard.

Macho macho macho…Alim’s father is not like this at all.

When Uncle arrived to the house, I watched Older Sister whisper to a woman that had come to visit. As a woman, and someone that has to rely on body language, I understood that she isn’t too fond of him. If it were American women, there would of probably been eye rolling.

Uncle speaks very loudly, he’s the only man there, and I can tell it’s expected to listen. Before he arrived, I also noticed Alim can at times, be a bit aggressive and bossy towards women.

Family at Dinner Time

The little girl was so excited to find out I could speak Chinese so we were able to communicate. She’s 13 and her older sister is 16, who can also speak.

There were 3 languages being spoken in the home last night…my head was spinning as I can only follow two closely.

The older brother, next to the girl with the hat has a disability and he is listening to an electronic device that reads the Koran.

Alim, is sitting to his left, next to his father, showing me his English study materials and a photo of when he was studying English in Urumqi.

The older sister is preparing noodles for “la mian” – pulled/beaten noodles.

Mother doesn’t like her photo to be taken but you can see her for a moment adding to the fire.

I tell them to talk in Mandarin. They begin in Uyghur but it changes to Mandarin. Their Mandarin is a little different from mine so it takes a minute to catch on to the questions.

We are discussing what we like to eat and if America has naan and lamb to eat.

Portraits of Invisible China

This is Alim, he is a local Uyghur of Kashgar. We met last night when I was a bit lost and impressed by his English skills, and not to mention his adorable’ness…we’ve become fast friends.

I spent the day at the hospital visiting his grandparents. The room of women told me my headscarf “makes” me “beautiful”.

When I strange man came into the room, a husband of a roommate, his mother quickly covered her face with her own scarf and then arranged herself to sit with her back to him. I am finally understanding what this is all about. It’s not shame, but rather not letting every strange man enjoy looking at your beauty.

It’s taken a little time, a little discouragement…but I’m really beginning to love these people.

The little girl was very curious of my camera. So I took her photo and shared with her. Little Uyghur girl’s hair is kept short. Alim told me this is just based on traditions.

Kashgar, I will have to leave you in a few days…but by all means…I will be returning to work you and Hotan for everything its worth. With fresh eyes and a break from China.

Remember the dead

Side note: One reason the Han have issues with the minorities of China is because the government grants them “special permission”. It is illegal for “Chinese”/Han to bury their dead (because of the high population). There are other examples, such as more than one child without a financial penalty or students are given points on their college entrance exam depending on their minority group. This frustrates many “Chinese”/Han and they view it as unfair.

I think I’ve stumbled upon a road block…

…because I’m a woman. (Ironically enough, it’s Woman’s Day and I caught myself kicking my feet in the sand, breathing in truck exhaust, on my way to try and get some photos…damning myself for being a woman with these expectations.)

Forget about getting portraits out here…or anything like the work I did in Tibet, without a fixer or a local to help.

I’ve been slowly working my way into this Muslim culture, the “Invisible China”, for the past 2 weeks and arrived in Hotan with complete culture shock. Nothing like I’ve seen or experienced before.

Today, I went out with both cameras and only was successful in getting a few from stealth mode by my point and shoot.

I walked to the edge of town and there must of been a half of kilometer when I was the only woman among hundreds of Uyghur men. I returned to the part of town where there was more of a mix of men and women. I felt better and not so hopeless. The out part of town I was getting laughs and strange noises that I don’t know what they represent.

Do I feel uncomfortable? Yes. Did I tell myself I was going to walk around and shoot and own what I am? Yes. Did I? No.

I walked for about 5-6 hours today. Not trying too hard to get photos as much as trying to adjust. There were a couple of moments when my eyes may have welled up a little. Why? Because I feel like I’ve let myself down with photographing these people and culture. I really wanted to be successful at getting some great and compelling images. Telling these people’s story…but I can’t…I need some help.

When I say Muslim, I do mean women fully covered…only showing eyes. The men, some, resemble members of the Taliban. I was thinking today, would I feel as uncomfortable if Western culture had not bombarded us/me/you with images of “Muslim extremists” or “the enemy”. I will deny that has little to do with how I view things, but I’m sure it’s somewhere in my subconscious.

Towards the end of the day I did some shopping. When chatting with female market seller for purchasing my glazed donut knots, a few other women chimed in. I had been using an old hair clip for a money clip and my market lady was very interested in it. I gave it to her…should of sold it to her now that I think about it. But I would never do that, these people have very little and I have 2 dozen bobby pins in my vanity bag.

Also, some women at the bank were very kind to me too. Even a few men were curious of there are Muslims in America. I’m learning that I have to make the first move for discussion or conversation…but I also don’t know where the borders lie. Perhaps I should avoid making eye contact with the men…what am I to do?

Would I feel more comfortable with a man by my side. Hell, I’m not going to lie…yes! I was thinking about some photo moments when I was traveling with Brandon. I did feel safer and more comfortable getting into situations. I had an extra set of eyes to watch my back, my bike, and sometimes he took the eyes off of me and onto himself. When I felt safe about it, I would let him know I needed him to leave so I could take care of some photos…especially with the young nomad women.

I’ll be leaving China in 2 weeks to head into Central Asia. I hope this gives me some deflation time to think all this stuff through. Maybe I’m totally working this in vain. Maybe I need more time and funds to afford this hearty task. Allah! Please send me a Uyghur fixer or two…or a dozen.

I also question, why am I trying to photograph city life? In the best photo work I’ve completed on this journey…it’s OUT of the city. When I ride, I usually only use cities for supply refills. So why am I so hard on myself thinking to get something good out of city life. It’s not my forte…it’s not even really what I want. I need some time to let all this soak in……

Do you want to know if I cover my hair? Of course. I wear a neck warmer up to my chin and a head scarf. There is some hair that peaks out at the top, but come on…it’s not like I’m fooling anyone. It’s out of respect. I saw a French man and woman yesterday and chatted them both up. I thought it was strange she wasn’t covering her head where he had a near full beard. When I was in Urumqi, I met Theodore Kaye, a photographer…and he did recommend that I wear a head scarf. I actually feel very naked without one now…even if it’s just a bandana.

I’ve realized that not only is my face sun burned but also sand blasted.

1 bag of oranges and a stack of naan.

Never leave town without supplies, which consists of at least one bag of oranges (great for desert snacks) and 3 naan per day…at least.

I rode out of Niya yesterday with a stack of 9 naan, but only 6 remained by the time I left the gas station from my email check.

I’ve been camping every night, since…heck, um, I’ve lost count. Haven’t had a rest day since Turpan, and I’ve got my thumb duct-taped it hopes to help that split tip heal. This is probably the 5th time my thumb tip has split like this, and it takes forever to heal…and just hurts.

Yesterday, I ate a lot in Niya then bought some supplies. When buying my raisins from a cute older Uyghur woman, something happened and we ended up laughing and she squeezed my face twice, Gramma style! She then grabbed my bare hands as if they were cold. My orange seller woman did the same. Sweet and amazing women.

After the market, a black VW Santana swoops in front of me and I think nothing of it. Then a man jumps out and is saying something…which I don’t understand (maybe Russian?). Then a woman runs after me and asks me for my passport as the man catches up and shoves his id in my face saying “POLICE!”

He wanted to know where I stayed the previous night. I bit my tongue before “tent” popped out. There had been a truck stop 180km back and said I stayed there. HA. Moron can’t do math because if I had stayed there I would of done 30km/hour to get to town.

Lesson for those cycling China: ALWAYS have an excuse when asked where you stayed. The safest response is “da che”…which means you hitched a ride. It’s easy because you just say it was a local and he dropped you off. Or a big rig driver…so there is no way to confirming it. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS…have a proper response. Foreigners are supposed to be at a registered place for foreigners every night. No straying about.

Earlier, I had seen make shift police walking around with black baseball bats. They looked like neighborhood Han that got to wear shitty “Police” vests over their civilian clothes.

Hey dumbasses!!! Tired of minorities uprising against the Han…why don’t you quit having them parade their superiority around! I don’t see a Uyghur or Tibetan given a baseball bat.

The black VW drives up to the edge of town and waits for me…then returns to the city. I also had a marked police car following me as well, which I didn’t know about until later.

At 7 pm, I saw 2 Uyghur praying on the side of the road…it’s not China down here. Two others gave me a bottle of tea.

Yesterday and today have been cold and overcast. Mittens and winter wear both days.

A little difficult to get ready in the morning, but I make do.

On the outskirts of Keriya, where I entered today…they are irrigating? the desert. On one hand I’m laughing, but also, the starry eyed hope filled gal I am, I want to shout BRAVO!


click the image to see a bigger image.

There must have been 100 Uyghurs pulling these black cables over the dunes. I’m saying, 1000’s of kms of this hosing.

China does 2 things well, canals/irrigation and preventing desertification…and ganging up on religious minorities.

I’ve noticed some things about the cities/towns down here.
City centers are very Chinese while the outskirts are Uyghur. But…all the Uyghur homes look as if they are being rebuilt.

Once in Keriya, it had the new city center, with Han police in green camo and guns around the perimeter. I stuck along the old, Uyghur part of town.

3 Uyghur men waved me over and I was treated to a good bowl of pulled noodles and lamb/veggies. I get treated to a lot of free meals from Muslims. When I was leaving, I even got a thumbs up from a group of men. I’m acclimating to things here…slowly.

It’s difficult for photos, just rushing through, and the fact I disrupt everything. I stopped at a small down on the outskirts of Keriya and all eyes were on me. Nothing to be fearful of, just curiosity. Lots of men…LOTS. So there are many things that really make me stand out…and then the bike. The bike is always a distraction.

Once I get to Hotan, I’ll rest my bike for a couple of days and do some real photo work. The word on the streets is I may be putting this project on Kickstarter to help afford fixers and to pay locals for help. I mean…it’s just a rumor right now.

Okay, signing off…as I’m in my tent under a bridge getting some rest from the storm I’ve been pushing through for the past 2 days.

Transmission from my tent.

Gotta keep it short.

9th day along the Taklamakan, 4th day along the Southern Silk Road.

The nomads are beginning to move back into their mud homes/huts out here. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like in a couple of months. At least when I return, the afternoon sun will be to my back, rather than burning my face.

Racing for the border…

Also, yesterday at sunset, I got to ride along about a dozen wild ass…no, not my bootie…donkies. I saw some more today…they are adorable. Last week I was just thinking how I want a few for my “Gentleman’s Farm”. Jason always told me I’m not allowed to have any animals with hooves…but those are the best animals!

I would love to hear from you!