Irkeshtam

To allow myself a bit more editorializing: I was ready to leave China. The people are great, the culture is great, but the government was exhausting. Between the depressing feeling I got every time I thought of what is happening to the Uighur population, to the Great Firewall (in Xinjiang, even most VPNs don’t work, or work well), I was ready for something different. So, according to plan (though a day later, since the border is closed on weekends), I headed to Irkeshtam. 

                To Uluqchat: the hostel arranged a shared taxi for us—by hustling the local hostels in the way I had for the Karakol trip, I eventually wound up with 8 fellow travelers—for only 50 RMB. The drive to Uluqchat was nice but nothing compared to what was to come. Instead it was more desert and reddish-brown mountains. After hiking from the gate to the immigration post (they wouldn’t let the car through) we began our protracted and inefficient interaction with the border guards. After wordlessly holding our passports for 20 minutes, they ushered us through security. In a metaphor I am still trying to understand, they ran our bags through the scanner one after the other, with the later bags pushing the earlier ones off the end and onto the floor until there was a disheveled heap of luggage. The stubbornness and chaos of this simple yet moronic action was reflective of the day. 

To Border: Eventually they loaded us into the waiting cars which they had arranged for us (after more aimless waiting). The cars would take us to the actual border for 100 RMB. This drive was more spectacular; the mountains became taller and eventually snow-capped; the desert gradually gave way to scrubby bushes and grasses. We arrived at the border around 2:30 (we left Uluqchat around 12:30-1 PM), and of course the guards were on break until 4:30 so there was more aimless waiting. Finally 4:30 rolled around and they actually let us through on time.

To the border

No-man’s land: After crossing through the final checkpoint we walked to the border (see picture to get an idea). Incidentally it is worth noting that the landscape also changes almost exactly at the border—hot, high desert becomes cool, green mountain valleys. After the well-equipped but teenage-looking Chinese soldiers we were met with the Kyrgyz version of G.I. Joe. I noticed all the Kyrgyz soldiers were worse equipped but seemed somehow more hardened and efficient. After crossing the border, there was a 3km stretch to the border station, but rather than walk Kyrgyz G.I. Joe pointed us to a van that took us there. After going through the refreshingly straightforward border process (they didn’t even scan my bag), we began to haggle with the local taxi drivers. They had us beat, but after a lot of talking and the help of the Russian-speaking Slovak who was with us (great guy), myself and the two Koreans got a shared taxi to Osh for 1500 soms (22 dollars) apiece. 

The actual border (Kyrgyzstan begins where road maintenance ends)

To Osh: This drive is as spectacular as advertised. Though apparently the Torugart pass is more scenic (and more expensive), this one left nothing to be desired. We were herded into a minivan and took off at breakneck speed through the mountain passes, eventually surfacing on massive alpine meadow ringed by the tallest mountains I have ever seen. There was still snow below where we were driving, and yet the peaks seemed to be thousands more feet above our heads; we were not even at the foot of the mountains though we were already thousands of feet above sea level. We stopped at a yurt for a “photo stop”; I followed our driver and his friend to a couple of yurts instead. Inside they were filling old soda bottles with kumis, and I immediately felt at home in this rural alcohol trade (thanks, Kentucky). We all sat around while they filled, and they offered me some naan with what I think was yak butter (tasty) and eventually a bowl of kumis, complete with numerous black spots floating in it. Most of what I have heard about kumis is negative, but let me state unequivocally: I really enjoyed it, black specks and all. I had to try not to slug the whole bowl (it is highly sluggable) in a minute. The kumis trade is really jumping; on our way to the meadow we had to show our passports at some checkpoint (actually a miserably small trailer with two soldiers crammed inside) and our driver gave them a bottle along with his passport. 

The mountains--higher than the clouds

On the jailoo (alpine pasture)

Horses, pastures, mountains, Kyrgyzstan.

Soon we left the jailoo and it was mountain pass after mountain pass, though none had the massive snow-capped peaks we had seen earlier. There were grasslands and craggy, rocky ridges; in the bottoms there were trees and villages and herds of cattle moving around. The mountains were still towering; the snow was replaced with rock formations that looked like dragon’s teeth. The houses had changed completely from the soulless prefabs I saw in China to older, modest Russian-style country houses. The creeks were lined with trees and were full of water (there were mudslides blocking the road in places). The villagers themselves were in evidence all along the road, from herders using it for a convenient cattle drive to children playing in courtyards. From grand overlooks to intimate views into daily life along its route, this road is spectacular. After several hours of winding our way down gorges and valleys and through villages we ended on the plain and were almost instantly in Osh. 

Still with the scenery

Finally, obviously, in a former Republic

Total time: 12-13 hours. Total cost: 45 dollars, roughly

Karakol and the Pamir Highway

Of course, the other awesome thing about Kashgar is the stuff in the vicinity. Whether than is heading further southeast towards the desert, north to Shipton’s arch, south down the Pamir highway, or west to the ‘stans, Kashgar is a great home base for adventure. I myself was able to round up a crew to do a large chunk of the Pamir highway, though we did not go all the way to the border because it would take too long. Instead, we visited Tashkorgan and overnighted in yurts at Karakul lake. The drive out was interminable and terrifying, thanks to road construction and a driver that greatly overestimated his driving ability. Several potholes we hit nearly planted my noggin in the roof.

As a side note—drivers here are quite dangerous. People might write it off as a “cultural difference”, but the fact of the matter is that driving down a mountain road at taking blind corners at 60 miles an hour while burning rubber while half of the people in the back don’t have seatbelts on (seatbelts were not present in these seats, for unknown reason), is just unsafe and stupid. Driving like a maniac adds nothing, while threatening everything. If confronted with this situation, be sure to keep the driver in line, because it is your life at stake. It was obvious our guy was clueless because even though he pretended to be a cool rally car driver, he braked on the turns instead of accelerating into them. Amateur.

The drive itself is gorgeous (literally, full of gorges). Despite the devastation to nature caused by the construction around us, it is still an awesome drive. Rocky, red mountains give way to narrow gorges and snowy peaks, before finally coming out onto a plateau with massive mountains and more glaciers than I could count. I am a huge glacier fan. The plateau all the way to Tashkorgan is the best part, with grasslands and villages and high, snowy mountains. Tashkorgan has an old fortress which had been covered in pathways, concrete, and cameras, Chinese-tourism style, but to see it, the old Zoroastrian church, and the yurt-speckled grassland below was very interesting

Staying at the yurt at Karakol was one of the greatest experiences, to be certain. At first I wondered if it was touristy, but luckily we stayed in yurts further down the road from the main camp. Also, having since seen other yurts, I can confirm that these were reasonably authentic. It was run by a couple of Tajiks who were very helpful in preparing authentic food and keeping the fire stoked. Watching the sun set over the mountains was as impressive as watching it rise the next morning (I got up an hour too early, but watching the entire sunrise in solitude was worth it). Even at night, the moon lit everything up and the view was still spectacular. There were several other tourists staying with us, and they were actually very nice. One Chinese girl named Mona who spoke excellent English was very hospitable and even shared her group’s food with me. Between the new friends, the mountains reflecting in the lake, and the solitude of the morning hours, Karakol was a place that made the whole trip worth it. 

 

Kashgar

                 Kashgar is a nice town. I spent several days just walking around and taking in all of the markets and bazaars and the culture of the place. There really isn’t much to do in terms of structured activity such as museums, etc., but there is a lot of culture and sometimes it is just pleasant to sit in a place and watch the activity, especially in the evenings. I ate at the night market across from the Id Kah mosque every night I was in Kashgar, and every time it was very good. They sell bread soaked in some kind of spicy broth on a skewer and it is very good. After eating it was usually very fun to sit in the main square for a couple of minutes. During one of these times I saw a girl in a dress climb in a manhole to recover her friend’s shoe. Impressive. 

Night market

               During the day, it was pleasant to wander around the town—both the new, fake-old, and truly old parts. The government has reconstructed much of the old town, and aside from an annoying touristy veneer in parts, it is actually reasonably well done. Besides that, it represents an upgrade in living standards, according to a shop owner I talked to. The truly old section is worth a walk, with many narrow alleys and corridors with houses crammed on both sides and sometimes overhead. Everything is a tight fit and haphazard, and it truly feels like it is hundreds of years old. The kids are very friendly and they will often run up and shout “HELLO” before running away. This has happened numerous times, and they are easy to get a rise out of (shake their hand, say “hello” back, etc.).  The new old town preserves traditional culture equally well—it is populated entirely by Uighurs, and traditional businesses are everywhere. Small shops, butcher stalls (I saw a sheep get slaughtered on the sidewalk, so prepare yourself), dentists, and barbers are everywhere. There is also a good instrument shop; when I walked by there were several guys in there playing instruments.

Old Town (far)

Old Town (near)

Silk road deal, all cash (sheep purchased)

The bazaars are great as well. I went on a Sunday, which meant that the animal bazaar and the grand bazaar were in full swing. The animal bazaar was impressive, in the sense that guys were fitting half a dozen sheep onto the back of what is essentially a motorbike with a flatbed. Don’t go here if you’re an animal rights activist, though. Seeing everyone coming in from the countryside and haggling over livestock prices one-on-one was a fascinating experience and one that I think is fairly unique. The grand bazaar was also fascinating—far from being a tourist trap like the one in Urumqi, locals do a lot of shopping here. The aforementioned storekeeper buys a lot of his stock here. It is massive, and sells absolutely everything. I myself bought a handmade rug, which I haggled down to 925 from 1300. I’m sure I still overpaid vis-à-vis locals, but then again, I probably can afford to pay more.

Bazaar (left), Bucket O' Scorpions (right)

 Kashgar itself is a wonderful place—not to do checklisty-type things, or to see the sights, but rather to simply walk around, sit around, and watch the colorfully-clad and boisterous Uighur population go about their day. Everyone is extremely friendly; traditional ways of living are well preserved and after soulless city after soulless city (e.g. Urumqi) Kashgar felt like one big friendly village of several hundred thousand people. I will try not to editorialize too much, but it is a damn shame that the Chinese government treats them the way they do. For that reason, I recommend a trip to Kashgar while the local culture is as vibrant as it was when I saw it in June 2016.

Food stall at night market