MMER 2012
Adviser Update
Journey to the Center of Asia
By BRANDON TAYLOR
Because of the elevation, the temperature had dropped from a hot
90 degrees in Kashgar to a cool 59
degrees. The altitude was also noticeable, because after about two hours, I
was getting short of breath and a little
lightheaded.
On another trip outside Kashgar, we
took the Old Silk Road, a major trade
route of old from China to Europe, to
Yarkand and the Taklamakan Desert.
The desert’s sand dunes rolled off into
the distance like a light brown ocean.
The camels we’d rented struggled to
traverse the unstable terrain. Even the
rainstorms — all three of them — during my stay in the desert were thrilling.
But the crème de la crème of traveling in these backwater territories was
the complete and utter absence of a
single tourist. At each locale, it was
just I, myself and my pale complexion,
and Layla, amid a sea of Uyghurs,
Tajiks, Kazakhs and other Central
Asians. It was bliss.
Yes, I know I’m being a bit hypocritical, because, after all, I was a tourist,
and a pretty obvious one at that. But
escaping the city life for blue skies
and green pastures and desolate sand
dunes was a much needed breather
from the always-busy Beijing.
The trip was a real eye-opener, shattering the misconception I’d had of Xinjiang being as wild and lawless as the
American west in the mid 1800s and
allowing me to visit some of nature’s
most captivating beauties. And I got to
do so while being part of my own private, micro tour group.
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Like a page out of National Geographic, a Uyghur woman, Karakul
Lake and the snow-capped mountains. For additional photos, visit
http://www.btay200.blogspot.com/
Oct. 2, 2010
As I looked out the cab on our drive
through Kashgar, southwest Xinjiang
Uyghur Autonomous Region in China,
I had to ask myself, “Am I still in
China?” Gone were the tall, modern
buildings of Beijing. Gone were the
busy highway overpasses and floods
of cars. Gone were the Chinese people
themselves, replaced instead with the
minority Uyghur group.
I felt like I’d been plopped down in
the middle of some Middle Eastern
nation. Signs in Chinese and Uyghur
(which resembles some Muslim script),
and even a few in English, confirmed
that I was still in China, if only on its
outer edges.
The Uyghur are a Turkic people,
similar in appearance to people of
the Middle East and Central Asia as
opposed to those in East Asia. Most of
the 8 million Uyghurs in China live
outside Urumqi, Xinjiang’s capital, in
the autonomous region.
Kashgar, where we would be spending most of our trip, is but a stone’s
throw away from Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Pakistan and even Afghanistan
in Central Asia.
From mosques and tombs to temples
and even a nice visit to a Uyghur family, my girlfriend, Layla, and I saw it
all around Kashgar. We saw an ancient
royal tomb that housed members of
Uyghur dynasties. At the Kashgar city
mosque, Layla had to cover her arms
with a shawl, since she was wearing
a short-sleeved T-shirt, which went
against Muslim rules. The mosques
and Muslim architecture were a nice
change from the temples and pagodas
of Beijing.
We also walked around the Old City
of Kashgar, the part that was being
preserved while the rest of the city
developed. The alleys were small and
tightly built and reminded me of the
hutong in Beijing. Children played in
the dirt and followed us – they may
have never seen a white guy before.
When I’d take their pictures, they’d all
gather around to see this small picturetaking device that had shrunk their
image onto a tiny screen.
But as much as Kashgar had to offer
in terms of sights, it was the mountains to the south and desert region to
the east that impressed me the most.
Karakul Lake is about 124 miles
south of Kashgar, at an elevation of
3,600 meters (2.2 miles) above sea
level.
While I was skeptical about visiting another lake after the storm of
tourists at Tian Chi, I’d been told this
lake was not to be missed. And I’m
glad I listened, because once again, the
geography caught me like a deer in the
headlights – a deer with a camcorder
and digital camera in each hand.
Karakul Lake glimmered under
the sun, the snowcapped peaks surrounding it, beckoning in the distance.
Had I brought snow gear and climbing
equipment, I might have attempted an
ascent. The mountains’ reflection was
clear on the lake’s water. A few locals
came over to see what Layla and I were
doing – and make every attempt to sell
us something. Even a flock of sheep
was curious of our foreign presence.
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