A-yi

We chit chatted in my room before bed and she made me breakfast. The American gal I am, I went in for 2 goodbye hugs…and she returned them very warmly.

I never did meet the Russian couple that stayed there the night before.

Yaxi, my Tibetan “little brother”.

I had arrived in Xiangcheng, Kham (Southwestern Sichuan) and was looking for a cheap place to stay. Repeatedly getting turned away because I was a foreigner. I had expected this as the city has a massive amount of police.

Walking down an alley, to check out a possible place, to check out a Tibetan hotel, Yaxi caught my eye but I turned away because my first impression was of beauty yet complete intimidation. He was also standing outside a gambling/arcade (he actually works there).

He tried to get my attention but I refused because I have my “rules”.

Running behind, he caught up with me and I couldn’t refuse talking. I stumble over my Chinese because I’m completely caught off guard.

We make the brief introductions, where I’m from, what I’m doing, and what I need. Yaxi, you are gorgeous.

From my photos, you would think that all Tibetans walk around in their traditional dress…but there is also the modern, city, Tibetans. Yaxi is a year younger than I.

He insists on pushing my bike for me. Chivalry is not dead among the Tibetans. We try 3 different hotels, continually getting turned away.

Pushing up a hill he looks at me and says, “you can stay at my home”…I stammer and reassures me his “wife” is at home through his beautiful and gentle smile.

To make this story a little shorter, I ended up spending 6 days there with them. I had lost my eyeglasses a few km back and was walking around with sunglasses at night. They did find a motorcycle and his wife drove me to the edge of town a few days later where I found my crushed eyeglasses…with one lens. I would live without eyeglasses for 14 days.

They were the most pleasant hosts and I didn’t spend a cent. We took walks, visited the temple, spent nearly every moment together. I would hang out at the gambling joint. Man, those Tibetans like to gamble!

One afternoon, out on the stoop, where this photo was taken…there was a very heated debate for an hour or so about “The D.L.”. Yaxi and his wife ARE Tibetans from Qinghai and they had workmates that were Han. There was screaming and shouting…when the Tibetans walked through the alley, they would either run quickly by or stand back listening to the conversation. I was hiding in the shadow behind the door, keeping a look out for police.

Yaxi and his wife look at me…I understood most of this conversation…and they look at me in sincerity and ask me in Chinese…”what do you think”? I sink into my chair and I say, “I’m an American…YOU KNOW what I think.” This is enough for them.

Last week I spoke to Yaxi on the phone briefly, he can not speak English. We ended up communicating more via text message. He is currently at his home in Kangding. He wants me to return to spend more time with him and his family. We briefly discussed the current situation and we both agree that I “can’t” come right now because it’s “very very very bad”, “but after”…”after” what I ponder.

Yaxi reassured me and that he and his family are okay, as I worry of him. Yaxi, my little brother…my thoughts are with you, your family, and all the Tibetans. “meiguoren he xizangren pengyou”

Tibetan Sisters, Nima Tibet 2011

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Tashi Delay! and please be sure to keep up with what is happening in this part of the world.

November 30th – Balikun to HongKaiZi (not really a place – 75km from Balikun)

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.

November 27 – 45km to Santang Hu Xiang, a reminder of the goodness of people.

I wake up around 9 and feel like a bag of bricks was dropped on my head and I’d been eating cigarette butt flavored sand paper. Baijiu still puzzles me, I can handle any liquor/beer but that stuff is like pure poison.

After a run to the “bathroom” (hole in the ground) I go to get water from the hostess.

She says something about me being drunk last night. Are you insane? I wasn’t drunk but I know you fools were.

I ask her for some water to fill up my bottles and she offers me some food before leaving. Sure, why not.

After about 15 minutes sitting there filling up on water and watching her put her make up on, clean her face, and wipe up stuff, I apologize and tell her I must get going.

Walking with my bag to the police station, I see a Kazakh shepherd with his flock and a give a friendly wave and a “Hello”. He smiles and waves back. Whoa, maybe I shouldn’t wave, it made me nearly fall over. Damn, this is going to be a long long long awful day.

The man from the night before without a uniform helps me get my bike. No one comes to me, no one really says anything except for the guy that grabbed my bum screams something about me going. Yeah, don’t worry buddy, I’m ready to go – trust me. The civilian clothed man asks if I’ve eaten and lie. “Yes, she fed me”.

View behind, the entrance to the town of hell:

View ahead, get the hell out of here…take a deep breath, it’ll be okay.

I get on on ol’Nelly and feel my head spin. I can’t wait to get out of here, 50 less kilometers to a town where I can eat and crash. Shouldn’t be too bad.

Wrong, head wind. Feel like death. Scenery is crap.

I pass SanTang Hu the first time and as I’m going up out of the basin I notice from my compass that this is all wrong. There was a turn off and with an 8km descent to town. I turn back reluctantly but with a tailwind this time and descend to the edge of town. A typical truck stop town, “Brown Frown Town”. It’s more black and lots of frowns.

There is a sign for the town with about 2 km more to go. I arrive into a very small, dusty town and ride to the furthest part to find a luguan. It’s clean and laoban/laobanniang are friendly. I also get to pull my bike into the room for 15rmb.

A little quick laundry and head to get some noodles. It’s only about 5:30 and I’m glad to finish for the day. The blasting headache finally disappeared.

Find a Chinese restaurant and order Chow Mein. Okay, so…it arrives. It doesn’t look as tasty as the other 500 bowls I’ve eaten but I begin to dig in.

There is a strange meat/texture of something. I put it to the side, it’s also a little cold like it hasn’t been cooked. Then, there is something sharp in my mouth. I pull it out expecting to see the stem of a vegetable and to my disgusted surprise it’s a claw/nail. I’m telling myself it’s a chicken claw but it more resembled a large cat claw or small dog with a little blood vein to the nail still attached.

“meow meow” I hear the cat pass by me to the door. Yes! The cat that is in the shop. I’m literally starving and tuck the nail under the plate so I don’t throw up from seeing it and finish the noodles scraping everything else to the side.

I had seen police around town earlier and as I was inside the restaurant a military jeep pulls up out front. An officer barges into the place, looks at me, and barges out as fast as he entered. Yep, that’s probably for me.

As I exit the “xiao mai bu” next to the luguan with my cookies, breads, and soda, the jeep is pulled up out front with 4 officers and 2 locals. I walk past minding my own business.

Within 5 minutes they are there. “Where are you from? Where did you ride from? Where to? Where are you going? Where have you been? What are you doing? What do you do in Shanghai?”

This is the second time where they photograph the cop checking my credentials with me sitting next to his side. Do they submit these to Big Brother to let them know they are doing their jobs in the desert where all the crazies are stationed?

After this ordeal the cop tells me that if I have any problem to contact the police, they will help. HA! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! He also gets my phone number because he’s going to phone the town ahead to expect me and to help me find a place to stay. I’ll have to figure out how to get out of this one.

The owners are sweet people and chat me up for awhile and give me a Hami melon that I have to leave behind because of the weight.

Making a sweet porridge for desert and to hopefully erase the idea of a eating cat/dog out of my head.

As I’m cooking there is a knock on the door and a middle aged man walks in and looks at me and then leaves.

He returns in about 10 minutes and examines my food and says it’s not good. Asking where I’m from and how he’s going to Miami in 2 years. He gives me some sweet caramel candies too. After a short chat he leaves, but also telling me he’s going to go get me some food.

Again, he returns, after knocking comes in and gives me some instant noodles and a cup of instant milk tea and some breads.

Then he returns. He asks me to come over to his room so he can get a photo together. “It will be quick”.

Ah, okay, whatever…I’ll play along. I enter the room and there are sunflower seeds everywhere and a small table. There is also a young attractive boy. Turns out to be his 18 year old son. He takes the photo of us together and poses a polished stone on a pedestal next to us. The boy seems to have problems with the camera and Dad laughs at it all. I’m offered some baijiu and the thought makes me want to puke. I smile and wave my goodbyes.

He returns to check on me and sees my instant noodles. He takes them away. Only to return with them and a bar of foreign CHOCOLATE! A big bar of too…holy cow. This is a treat. I need to return to the room for a retake of the photo. Okay.

Ah, and I think it’s over…smiling at the thought of that delicious chocolate and eating my instant noodles.

He returns with some boxes.

They are opened and more polished and colored stones. He hands me a stand and tells me to take a rock. I’m not sure if he is selling them or really just offering me one. To play it safe I tell him, “I’m sorry, I can’t, they are too heavy. Thank you so much but, really, I can’t, I’m on bike.”

He seems okay with it but we go a little back and forth about it. His son is standing at his side, smiling.

I exchanged QQ #’s with his son, which I still have to send this photo to him.

As I lie in bed, I relive the past 48 hours and I remind myself that the days can vary from light to day. That the people drastically can change from 50 kilometers. What I’m saying, people, generally are so awesome and I’m not going to let a few rotten people make me think differently. Of course, I’m a little damaged from 2 experiences and I’m a little weary of things and men…but for the most part…they just want to talk with me.

Sometimes, China, I love you so much. NOT the ones in charge..but the wonderful strangers I meet along the way.

I would love to hear from you!