December 1 2011 – HongKaiZi to The Super Mario Brother’s zhusu

As soon as there was rustling about and the room was lit with sunlight, little sister and I went out back to the “cesuo” (toilet). I hate this type of morning, when my sides ache from the pain of holding my bladder. It feels as if it gets all blocked and takes a few minutes for my body to realize it’s time…to relax.

I can’t help but gazing towards the mountains during these few minutes. It’s cold and I can see the peaks of the little mountains. Damn, if it wasn’t so cold, and I was a little more insane, I’d ride my bike up there to take a look. Disappointed, as I imagine what that range looks like in the Spring – probably a fairly easy day ride with a nice camp. Not now, on December first.

Little sister and her husband wash up for the morning. Afterwards I’m led back over to her in laws for tea and hard breads. As she and I get ready, I get a couple of “how much did that cost?” Please, please…lets not play that game. It’s such a typical Chinese thing and I don’t find it among the minorities so much…please, don’t do this.

Her brother in-law is asleep in the corner. Three additional Kazakh men enter to join us for breakfast. They are quite nice and we go through all the basic questions and comments again. I still can’t get over how adorable her father in law is. Just adorable…in his thick army green pants.

The bread chunks are hard and you have to let them soak in the tea. The tea is different here. They add a yogurt to the milk tea. So there are little chunks of yogurt floating on top of the tea. Watching little sister, I see her scoop up the yogurt with the hard bread. I mimic, delicious.

We all head out, as it’s time for the family chores to be taken care of. Her husband heads out on his motorcycle, father is moving the sheep out of the stable, and mother begins her milking duties.

There is a litter of puppies behind the house. I can’t get over how adorable they are, with their snorting and crying. It’s hard for me not to ask if I can buy one. It’s too cold and they are too young…just would be cruel.

I spend some more time with little sister and I get a few more “how much did that cost?” questions. Okay. I can’t do this anymore.

She asks me if I’m going to stay another day and I just get a strange vibe that maybe I should go on. I know I’m welcome to stay but decide to tell her I will leave and see how she reacts. “No, I really should get going, it’s getting late.”

Not receiving a response that I sometimes get when people REALLY don’t want me to leave. I pack up and set out around 12am. With one final “how much did your bike cost?” Please, little sister…don’t do this to me……..

I give her a hug good-bye and push off. The mama dog decides NOW she wants to attack me. Hearing the barking getting louder I stop in my tracks and see her running towards me. Little sister runs to hold her back.

A wave from the tarmac and I’m off. Within a kilometer I pass her husband on his motorcycle, after putting the sheep to pasture, and I wave goodbye. Good-bye Mr. Handsome!

It’s a long day of riding up. Cold. Very little traffic.

I see the first sign of life around 3 in the afternoon. It consists of a tire fixing place and a restaurant.

Pulling the bike up to the restaurant, removing my sunglasses, and sliding my hat off, I make eye contact with the little toddler in the doorway. I say “Hello!” in my cute child voice for her. She smiles and goes in.

Two older Kazakhs walk out and they are very friendly looking at me and the bike. Harmless, wonderful, people.

I enter into a very old room with a small table and 4 chairs. The cooking area takes up half the space. There is a room to the right that has about 8 Kazakhs and children around a large table. The t.v. is on and some are sitting on the old iron framed bed.

The color palette of the place is browns, reds, dark yellows, and greens. Just a very dark place but I feel warm and the people seem welcoming.

I have a hard time communicating with the woman that’s cooking. I order fried noodles. The folks in the other room ask where I’m from. “I’m American”.
“Ohhhhh, American!” With smiles, nods, and just a feeling of acceptance.

The toddler and I are playing hide and go see around the table and other general child games of looking at each other.

A young man enters and takes a large tray of beef into the small room. When I say “tray of beef”..I mean…it’s basically broiled/roasted whole cow with the skin and organs removed. It actually looks and smells quite delicious.

About 5 minutes later he brings a big chunk out, about 12mm x 12 mm, sets it on a clean plate and drops it in front of me. He smiles, “Chi!”

The cook turns around and smiles while handing me a knife. Well, I guess I just go at it. I’ve had some training in Inner Mongolia and I try not to destroy such a beautiful hunk of beef.

As I cut into the meat, the juices drip down my hands and steam rising from the fresh cut. It may be one of the most delicious meals I’ve had.

My noodles are served with chunks of beef and hot green peppers.

I try to converse with the woman but there is a language barrier. She tells me that the road is mostly flat to the next city. I know to never really believe this stuff completely.

The place is warm and the people are kind. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment. Then filling up my water, I say thank you and head on my way.

From the km count she gave me, I will not be making it to the city unless it’s all downhill.

It’s not. I have a pretty damn good mountain pass to get over. Is it the cold? These climbs just drain me, not like when the weather is fair. I think about how this would of been nothing 4 months ago…but maybe the weather really does drain someone more than you would imagine. I push Nelly the last kilometer.

I’m holding the top of the pass for the remainder of the day…once again, as usual, racing for light.

I don’t know why I do this. Sometimes I think I should just set up camp in the snow but there is a part of me that just says, “keep going keep going, you’ll find something”. At the top of a pass, a nice 20rmb room sure does sound nice.

There is a truck stop on the side of the road. The only “zhusu” has all the windows broken out. I avoid staying where there are truckers like that anyhow. I take a little road down a hill towards a village. No luck. Power back up the hill, past a police station, see 2 officers taking a stroll and I pull clothing over my face. Less trouble.

The pass is a good 15km and I’m not really enjoying it. “Keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize”

Towards sunset I begin the descent. I hate descents in the winter and at sunset. It’s just so damn cold, although the sky is always the most beautiful. I’m trying to get to somewhere warm, take photos, and just not freeze. It’s quite a balancing act.

I’m freezing, it’s near dark and there is no traffic. Luckily, this helps me hold onto my night vision.

With about 10 minutes left of residual light, I spot a hand painted sign with something about “zhusu” and “1.5km”. Oh hell yes!

I pick up the pace and I see a restaurant with “zhusu” attached to it. It’s tucked into a wooded area with only an outhouse and some cows.

Of course they see me and greet me at the door.

“30rmb!? Really? Well, I guess I don’t have an option. Okay.”

We roll my bike into the room and they reassure me it will be warm, safe, no other company…and the sheets are clean. Okay.

In the restaurant, I order a couple of dishes. As I’m sitting there and I notice that these two men are not typical Chinese men. They remind me of 2 people, with their mustaches. Oh, it’s Mario and Luigi! of the Super Mario Bros. fame.

They don’t have rice so I’m given some breads. Cold bread. I only eat one but they insist that I take all the breads, “a gift”, for breakfast. I’m beginning to think that these men have a relationship – they are not brothers.

Sure, not going to turn down free breads.

Back to my room, it’s dark, I have only one candle to last me the night.

I curl up on top of one blanket and cover with 2. It’s silent. For the past couple of nights, all I hear is silence. I love it. The light begins to flicker, as the the flame extinguishes I can hear the sizzle.

Goodnight.

November 21 Songshu to YanChiXiang

Even in another country, I know the sounds of shoveling snow, snow plows, and even the type of light that sneaks through the window to let you know…SNOW!

Yep, 2nd day riding and I get about 3″ of snow along the top of the mountain. My morning greeting:

It’s about 3km of backtrack to where the road breaks to go North to the desert. I pass about a dozen trucks putting chains on their tires and only feel my own tire slip once.

Lunch, noodles, a soda, head North. Steady incline for majority of the day. I can’t help but think how all m photos are blue and white…blue and white…blue and white. Between thoughts of “how am I going to warm my fingers?!”

The day basically consists of this scenery without traffic. At the top of the mini pass (I say mini now because after Sichuan and Tibet, the mountains and passes are only hills and bumps to me) I see trucks pulled off and a police checkpoint to my right with a small town to the left. This is the town where the men in Songshu said I should stay the night because I will never make it to Yiwu.

Police checkpoints still make my heart race, a lump in my throat, and my vision gets a little shaky. I’m rattled but I come back down and remind myself it’s only Xinjiang. Yes, exactly, it’s ONLY Xinjiang. Last night was my first visit by the local police, on my first day riding in Xinjiang, to take care of my foreign residence in China. Always a pain in my butt!

I go past the trucks, pass the checkpoint, and there is a man standing in the road with the long Army green coat that reminds me of the gate keepers at Emerald City…if it was Olive Green City. “This place have accommodation?”

“Probably not”.

“I will look”.

It’s a small village and I pull in and ask the man on the motorcycle, a Kazakh, “this place have accommodation?”

“Probably not”.

I still have about 3 hours of light so I power up to the tip top of the pass and begin a slight descent. Fingers freeze…Fingers REALLY REALLY FREEZE.

Camels!

I can see a small town ahead with some new construction, grey concrete with a crane.

The sun is setting fast…the roads are freezing and nearly a sheet of ice. Although on this side of the mini mountains it’s not as bad as it was earlier. My hands are completely frozen after removing my 2 pairs of gloves to photograph the camels, that walked away from me.

I get off to walk because of the ice. School is getting out, it’s nearly 6pm. There is a school, must be a place to stay. Walking puts feeling back into my frozen feet and I can fist my hands up in my gloves. A man tells me there is zhusu around the corner. I don’t see it.

2 boys on a scooter ask if they can help me. I tell them what I need, they tell me there is nothing there. It’s really hard for me to believe this. So I say thanks and walk all the way through the town…I have about 15 minutes before it’s dark.

On the edge of town they return. They tell me they will help me. One boy stays with me, the other goes away on this scooter. He returns, nothing. He asks me what I’m going to do…I say go on, slowly. I say I have a tent and hope for an offer of one of their homes. Nope.

Gotta go. Go.

About a 1/4km down the road I look on and it’s very very barren. All I see are headlights and the dark blue. Riding at night, on ice…not so good.

I pull off the road and into a road tunnel. It’s just one of those ditches under the road that cattle/sheep pass through or water. It’s dry, not a lot of turds, it’s not a concrete one, so I could pitch my tent – as it’s nearly 7′ in diameter.

It’s dark. I begin to unbuckle my rear rack bag on the edge of the opening and I hear a gate closing. Shit. Shepherd.

I run in. I can hear the footsteps crunching over the ice towards me…I walk to greet him, only seeing a dark figure with an orange tip from a cigarette. He’s about 5′ and I greet him with “hello” so he knows I’m not Han and a foreigner.

“What are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Hami.”
“what country person are you?”
“America.”
“Are you cold?”
“Alright.”
“Come into my home over there”, as he points to the small rows of concrete structures.
“Okay, is your wife home?”
“Yes,” with a slight smile.

We walk over and I rest my bike, fully loaded minus the bar bag, outside. The door is guarded by a dog and a Kazakh woman steps out from a small concrete room. They exchange a short conversation and she smiles to me. I enter a room about 8’x 8′ with 3 small beds shoved against the back and side with a little boy and color television. I smile and say hello to the toddler and directed to sit next to the small coal burning stove.

Basic questions and conversation. I lie and say I’m 28…I’m struggling to figure out her age…she looks like she could be in her late 30’s with deep set forehead wrinkles…but I keep doing the math of a 4 year old…and the hidden newborn in the cradle in the back of the beds. It doesn’t make sense…this is crazy. They’ve been married for about 6 years…he looks my age. She is 28…should have lied more. I don’t care what kind of woman you are, where you come from, how you’ve lived…no woman likes to feel “Old looking” – even nomads. She’s had a rough life and very weathered. I’ve got to start saying 24 when I’m dealing with nomads/shepherd families.

She washes her hands!!!! Then begins to make dumplings with beef. Wow, she washed her hands, and he does too after handling the coal. This sure isn’t Tibet!

At one point the man rushes out, to return with a baby lamb that he shoves under the bed. It comes out, shivering and “bah”ing with some poo hanging off it’s rear. It’s still so young it’s wobbling around on the floor.

We watch t.v. with a little conversation, she is making dumplings with a break to breast feed…and the little boy and I are entertaining ourselves with little games of facial expressions.

I have to force the 3 bowl of dumplings down…after repeated “chi chi chi”. eat eat eat!

The great thing I have found about minorities is that they are really kind and helpful but won’t talk your ear off like the majority. We had some basic conversation and they were curious what the Kazakhs in Kazakhstan are like…I can not answer. I don’t know.

The father is wonderful with his children. Both parents are hunkered down over the new baby girl. The toddler frustrated, banging against the small table the tv sets on. During the dumpling making, he had taken her out of the small cradle, that she was strapped into and cuddled with her. Talking to her, snuggling his face into her. He sets her up against a pile of blankets with her wobbly little head. When mother is taking care of her, he devotes playing time with the little boy, who is jumping over the metal frame of the bed. At one point, crossing back and forth over it, I see him grab his crotch and whimper. ooops!

At one point the infant is in the fathers lap and she is looking at me with her wobbly head, and she begins to smile, drool, and make a high pitched noise. The parents notice this and smile. I smile.

After dinner there is a little tea, curds added. Strange but good. He apologizes for his home being so small, I feel so bad because my Chinese isn’t so good and I smile and say “it’s not a problem”. What am I supposed to say?

As the toddler gets ready for bed, as he takes off layers and layers of close, he gets a little attitude and starts playing some sort of game. I can’t help but start laughing, with a few tears rolling down my face. The parents smile at this but I can sense a feeling of “what’s that foreigner laughing at”.

It was a delightful evening where I got to warm up, literally, and warm up to a new group of people in China that I haven’t had any experience with. Trying to learn customs and figure out how to photograph this simple life. I did notice no baijiu…which is always a relief.

I leave my bike outside, a little apprehensive, and go to the room next to the heated living room. It’s a large room with a bed with beautiful weaved carpets and fancy looking blankets with embroidery. He stands on the bed once I’m settled in and removes the light bulb. Goodnight.

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