Journey to the East

So, to wrap up my blogging on the trip to Xinjiang, I thought I would post the best of the rest of my photos from the trip. To enlarge a picture click on it, and click again on the picture in the screen that pops up. Enjoy!

A typical Uighur mid-day meal: Polou, cold vegetables and tea.

No experience in Xinjiang would be complete without eating. In fact, one of the greatest parts of heading waaaay out west is the food. So, I thought I’d give a quick look at Uighur food, and the cuisine of Xinjiang.

In general, Uighur food is much like the food of the rest of Central Asia (Afghani food is particularly similar, apparently). Thus, Xinjiang cuisine is renowned for its use of huge portions of lamb and beef. Particularly famous are its enormous, meaty, spicy kebabs. Unlike their eastern Chinese cousins, which are much smaller and meant to be eaten in large numbers, Xinjiang style kebabs are massive. Each would probably constitute a single serving’s worth of meat if assembled whole on a plate. These juicy cuts of lamb (and sometimes beef) are doused in chili, cumin, and an array of other spices, impaled on large (almost knife-like) metal skewers and roasted over a searing flame. They are absolutely delicious, and make for a great dinner and an even better late night snack. Breakfast also features heavy portions of meat, especially in the form of polou (or pilaf, as it is known in much of Central Asia), a bed of pan-cooked rice with shaved, stewed carrots, roasted onions, (occasionally) chopped dates and raisins, and (of course) a huge hunk of bone-in, roasted lamb. You have to be on top of your timing to get polou, though, as it is rarely found after 1PM local time. By noon, most restaurants have stopped serving it, or have sold out. Also, like many of the culinary traditions of Central Asia, bread plays an important role in Uighur cuisine. It’s a real treat to be walking around in Kashgar, in the Old City, in the early morning to smell the naan ovens firing. Some of them make regular flatbread, which is decorated with ornate spiraling patterns, making it both intricate and delicious. Others make the equally delicious samsa which are baked meat dumplings filled with big chunks of lamb. These are incredibly filling and are a wonderful morning snack.

However, centuries of interaction with East China has clearly influenced the cuisine of Xinjiang. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Xinjiang’s various noodle dishes. Handmade noodles crossed the Silk Road into the region from the East, and were quickly assimilated into the local diet. Now, anywhere in Xinjiang you find huge plates of steaming, stewy noodles. Often this is called laghman and is served with big chunks of meat in a sauce of tomatoes, carrots, onion, peppers, chickpeas, and spices (cinnamon, anise, etc.). The total effect is a hearty, aromatic, spicy and filling lunch.  Eating laghman is also a great visual experience, as all of the noodles are handmade. As you wait for your food, you can watch the kitchen staff pulling large strings of the noodle dough, stretching it again and again to make the long strands which you’ll eventually eat. The people who do this are pros, and there’s sort of an artistry about the whole process, which seems highly acrobatic. If nothing else, the freshness of the meal is incredible. Similarly, the tea culture of Xinjiang bears the mark of cultural fusion. Tea is an important beverage in this area as the halal dietary code of Islam forbids the consumption of alcohol. In the place of wine or beer, tea is often consumed. Here again, Xinjiang has fused the customs of East and Central Asia into something completely unique: traditional Xinjiang tea is served, like in China, without the addition of milk (as is the case in much of Central Asia, and especially India and Pakistan). However, unlike in China, Uighur tea is usually brewed with a blend of spices (the most bold flavor being that of cardamom), and thus have an incredible fragrance and delicately sweet flavor. In the afternoons, it’s nice to find some respite from the desert heat by climbing up to the balcony of a teahouse and having a bowl or two (yes, tea is served in small shallow bowls here) with some naan. From these high vantage points, one can sip tea and simply watch the world pass, which– in Kashgar– is an experience unto itself.

One other culinary advantage of Xinjiang’s arid climate is that dry weather allows for a really spectacular array of fresh fruits. Throughout China Xinjiang’s orchards are renowned for their apples, grapes, pears, dates and melons. On nearly any street in Kashgar’s Old City you’ll be able to reap the rewards of this, as everywhere vendors hawk dried fruit or fresh melons. Similarly, Xinjiang is abundant in nuts and almonds. The end result of all is of this is that Xinjiang has distinctly more dessert options than does Eastern China. These come in varied forms: Sesame hard candy made with local honey, peanut or almond brittle, chilled pressed dates in a sweet syrupy broth, fresh sliced melons, and –most importantly– home made ice-cream sweetened with honey and served by the spoonful into pint glasses. This frosty desert has the most wonderfully subtle and sweet flavor and is an amazing escape from the hot sun. Often, when walking in Kashgar, you’ll see dozens of men camped out under and awning in the shade, talking and enjoying a big cup of the stuff.

In all, eating in Xinjiang is a rich and incredible experience. Any description of it would be, however, incomplete without some visual aides. Here are some pictures:

Every kind of kebab imaginable is available at the Wuyi Night Market in Urumqi.

Xinjiang's famous lamb kebabs on the grill.

Kebabs are a popular nighttime snack. This stand was in the old town in Kashgar.

Naan flatbread: an absolute staple of Uighur food.

Making laghman, pulled noodles

Making Kebabs in Kashgar's Old City.

A solitary hawk circles high above the frozen surface at Tian Chi, "Heaven Lake."

One of Xinjiang’s major attractions, aside from it’s diverse and vibrant culture (more on that when we get to the entry about Kashgar), is its raw natural beauty. Especially when compared to China’s east coast, where recent development and thousands of years of agriculture have transformed the land, much of the northwest in this country feels “unspoiled.” And there is true variety in the landscape as well. There are, of course, the deserts for which the region is famous, but there are also many other incredible natural phenomenon to be  seen in Xinjiang: the rolling grasslands of the central Asian steppe, the tall and foreboding forests of Asia’s north (think of Siberia here), and of course the Himalaya Mountains which tower majestically over everything. The land out here, like in all naturally spectacular places, simply appears unreal, too dramatic to be actually there in front of you. Such is the case with 天池 (Tiān Chí, or ”Heaven Lake”) near Urumqi.

Tian Chi is one of Xinjiang’s many “must see” natural attractions. It certainly lives up to it’s name. There have been few occasions when I’ve been absolutely stupified or dumbstruck beyond articulate language by a landscape, but my first glimpse of Tian Chi was certainly one of them. The lake itself is actually rather small (in fact a few of the advertisements I saw for the park had translated it’s name into the rather more diminutive “Heaven Pond” or “Heaven Pool”), but its size does nothing to detract from its beauty or majesty.

Rather, what makes Tian Chi impressive is its background. The lake is located at an already high altitude (4,500+ feet above sea level), and is ringed on all sides by the towering snow-capped peaks of the Bodga Shan mountains, the tallest of which is referred to as “The Peak of God.” The peaks are almost unfathomably tall and extend for miles into the distance behind the lake. Similarly tall are the enormous pine trees that grow densely on the rocky sides of the surrounding hills like giant Christmas trees (Many of them easily exceed 50 feet in height). Against the trees, the peaks, and an incomparably blue sky, Tian Chi does not need to be enormous to be captivating.

The road to Tian Chi is remarkable in and of itself for showing just how quickly and dramatically the landscape can change in Xinjiang. The lake is located a mere hour’s drive east of Urumqi, which is an oasis city on the eastern edge of the Tarim Basin. In the hour between Urumqi and Tian Chi the scenery changes from that of an oasis, into a sandy desert, and finally into the rocky, forested area in the foothills that surround the lake. The area very much reminds me of areas I’ve been to in the western United States (particularly the Black Hills of South Dakota and the Big Horn Mountains in Wyoming), and it was a very bizarre thought to think that only a few miles in the opposite direction, we would be back in the midst of the desert. The road to the park winds past several small communities of Kazakh shepherds who live in colorful, traditional yurts. On the hillsides near these communities sheep somehow manage to scale what looks to be impossibly rocky terrain. It’s all a very breathtaking drive.

Most of the people who go to Tian Chi go to amble around the ground-level path around the lake. While this undoubtably provides for some stunning views, we wanted to do something a little more strenuous. We opted, instead, to climb up to one of the lower-lying hills which surrounds the lake to see what the view looked like from a pagoda we saw perched on the top. We were cautioned by our driver that the steepness of this climb made it difficult, and that we should be careful. Naturally, we were undeterred. After an hour of strenuous climbing, we arrive at the peak and looked out on the entire park. Our reward for our daring was an incredible view.

The hike itself also provided us with some of the most incredible moments of the day. It was on the climb up the steep stairs that we were really able to grasp the remoteness and solitude one can find at Tian Chi. It is truly a place removed from the rest of the world. At the base of the park, the usual vendors have set up shops which vend overpriced nick-nacks, food and water. Of course, they advertised with blaring techno music and provided an obnoxious reminder of just how artificial a natural park can actually be.

At the top of our peak, however, such distractions had completely vanished. Instead, as we hiked we noted a different sonic phenomenon: silence. In this noisy country of car-horns, motors, construction equipment, street-vendors, blaring radio ads, and the constant chatter of other people, true moments of silence are rare and precious. When sounds did punctuate the silence at Tian Chi they were not the alien sounds of machinery or urbanization. Rather, the sounds of the lake were subtle, natural: the screech of a hawk circling it’s prey high in the sky (later we would watch as this same hawk circled slowly right before our eyes, probably not fifty feet away), a slight whistle of breeze as it whips through the tallest pine boughs, and the soft and distant rumble of avalanches in far-off snow-capped peaks. Hearing the last of these sounds was a powerful experience: I don’t believe I have even been so close to such a raw and potentially destructive force of nature. I could hardly even believe what I was hearing, but I heard it all the same, echoing like distant thunder. It was an incredible reminder: no matter how many chintzy stalls or obnoxious vendors show up, or how many stairs are carved into the sides of the hills, it will remain impossible to truly tame the “wildness” of Tian Chi. It is simply too much.

Here are some of the best photos from the trip:

Pictures will simply not do it justice: The view from the start of the trails at Tian Chi, Heaven Lake.

The peaks around Tian Chi are part of the Tian Shan range. The highest peak (seen somewhere here in the background) is known as Bogda Shan ("The Peak of God').

Gazing out at the scenery.

The forests surrounding Tian Chi were all populated by enormously tall pine trees.

We climbed up this hill at the edge of the park. That little pagoda you see is actually quite high up, and is, at times a bit of a steep climb.

Despite the warm air and sunshine, the lake was still frozen solid. Here you can see the cracks starting to appear in the ice.

Closeup of the cracks in the ice.

Sunlight falls through the pines on the trail up to the pagoda.

A view from the trail taken during our ascent.

Nearing the top.

The views of the peaks were absolutely incredible.

Overlooking the lake from the top of the hill.

A window on the world: The view from the pagoda.

Pondering the view.

Prayer flags flutter from the higher spots on the climb.

One of many yurts in the areas surrounding Tian Chi. These tents are the traditional homes of the Kazakh shepherds who live in this area.

Nimble sheep scale the hillsides near Tian Chi.

Tian Chi was a definite highlight of the trip. It’s raw natural power was something that provided a pleasant respite from the highly populated, urban energy of Urumqi. After Tian Chi our journey continued onward to Kashgar. Stay tuned for more posts about that city on the edge of central Asia.

Welcome to Urumqi

First on our tour of Xinjiang was the bustling provincial capital city of Urumqi. I’m probably not going to be able to say exactly what I want about Urumqi… its a complex place. In many senses, it is growing and bustling like its counterpart Chinese cities on the east coast. In another, completely different sense, Urumqi is infused with a strong flavor of central Asia. That much becomes apparent as soon as you arrive and see the multiplicity of culture which abounds in every place. The hallmarks of cultural fusion are everywhere: Street signs in both Chinese and Uighur (the language of Xinjiang’s local minority people), Arabian-style mosques standing next to very traditional Chinese-style buildings, the broad array of cuisine from local favorites to traditional eastern Chinese staples, the dizzying number of people from such incredibly different places (Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Pakistan, Kirgystan, Mongolia, Russia, Tajikistan, Eastern China, etc.) who are out walking on the streets. The web of multiculturalism, when layered over Urumqi’s ancient history and recent surge in economic development, make it a place with a complex and fascinating identity… one which is hard to adequately summarize or describe.

Like many of Xinjiang’s cities, Urumqi has a pretty long history as an oasis town in the middle of the desert, making it a pivotal stop on the ancient Silk Road. However, the city has a tendency to be historically overshadowed by it’s western neighbor, Kashgar, which has long been the center of local Uighur culture, a major nexus of cultural exchange, and a strategically important city located on the edge of mountain passes. This is not to say that Urumqi should play second fiddle: it’s got a vibrant and cosmopolitan feel of it’s own these days. It is to say, however, that we knew fairly little about it when we arrived. We knew it was a big city, but what was there to do there? No clue. In a sense our time in Urumqi became very flexible. Some cities are like paint-by-number portraits: you know that there are certain things you’ll have to see when you stay there. Urumqi is more like a choose-your-own-adventure novel.

The attractions in this city aren’t so much buildings as they are neighborhoods. Whereas in other cities in China, tourism revolves around touring specific temples, mountains, nature preserves, or other areas of cultural or historical significance, Urumqi’s appeal comes in visiting whole areas to get a feel for it’s cultural uniqueness. There are no huge temples to tour in Urumqi. While there are plenty of mosques (Xinjiang’s majority religion is Islam), these are not frequently open for public visitation, and rather must be seen from the outside. To see the real attractions in Urumqi, one must head out the Uighur neighborhoods in the center of town. There, you can experience a bit of what has always made this area famous, trade.

Yes, the place to go in Urumqi is the Grand Bazaar, a network of outdoor markets and street vendors in Urumqi’s Uighur neighborhoods. Starting out in the midst of markets for fresh produce, baked goods, meat, and handicraft gives you an idea of how important market culture has always been in Xinjiang. Here you see a fairly real slice of Urumqi that is as it has been for a LONG time. While the outer parts of the city are being modernized at a fairly alarming rate, Urumqi’s Uighur neighborhoods still display a good deal of the kind of bazaar-culture that has driven the economy of this region for millennia.

The sights, sounds and smells of the bazaar are pretty cool: roasted meat, fresh baked bread, freshly sliced melons, spices, towering Arabic-style domes, the shouts of vendors, the insistent honk of car horns, women in headscarves and men in prayer hats. It’s an absolute attack on the senses. From these areas, its easy to wander off down any number of other, smaller streets. We spent most of the afternoon on our first day there winding our way down these backalleys, following the spires of minarets toward what we though would be interesting buildings. Inevitably, we found ourselves amidst the real neighborhoods of Urumqi, away from the bazaar. Here, I think we witnessed a very real culture. Children played in the streets, people gathered in front of mosques before prayer. This wasn’t a show. This was Urumqi without any tourist pretense.

Ending up in these neighborhoods wasn’t an entirely comfortable experience. They were for the most part, fairly poor. We were received with some pretty strange looks. There has been some recent tension in this city (I won’t recount the history of that particular incident here) and there is still a sense of unease that lingers over areas like this. The curiosity about our presence there was less hostile and more confused: Why would tourists want to come and see this part of the city? What was there to see? In the end, though, when we were able to engage these people in whatever limited conversation we could, the barriers were lowered slightly, and people were generally warm towards us. If there is suspicion in Urumqi, it melts away after a little bit of communication.

After a full day of wandering through it’s streets, I still don’t think that I can pretend to understand all of the undercurrents which are running through the city. However, I am a little closer to feeling what lies at its heart. While Urumqi, on it’s face, may be a very complicated place to navigate, it is one that I think is worth getting to know and understand.

In any case, here’s a glimpse of Urumqi in photos. More updates will come soon.

Urumqi's buzzing cultural heart: The Er Dao Qiao Bazaar.

The view at the center of Urumqi's lively Bazaar district.

Multi-lingual street signs in Xinjiang: The language written with Arabic script is Uighur.

Fresh watermelon for sale in Urumqi's Bazaar.

Freshly baked naan: the flatbread which is the staple food in Xinjiang.

Mosque domes peek out from down an alley in Urumqi.

Roast Chicken, anyone?

Melons are a local specialty in Xinjiang, and can be found in abundance just about everywhere.

Vendors with carts line the streets in Urumqi.

A mosque in the Er Dao Qiao Bazaar in Urumqi.

Unlike their counterparts in Eastern China, most of the mosques in Xinjiang, like this one, are built in a Middle Eastern architectural style.

Women's fashions on display in Urumqi.

... and in menswear: all the hottest styles from Pakistan (not kidding).

A typical storefront in Urumqi.

An ornate gate in front of a mosque in Urumqi.

A common sight in Urumqi's Uighur neighborhoods: minarets.

Inside of the Grand International Bazaar in Urumqi.

Dried fruit, another local specialty, is certainly available in Urumqi's Grand Bazaar.