THE CHINA EXPERIENCE

PHOTO ALBUM

	Qufu, 1999 - Ribbon cutting ceremony
Qufu, 1999 - Painting with the masters
	Beijing, 1999 - Beijing Academy of Fine Arts Contemporary Art Gallery
Silk Road, 1999 - Lanzhou, artist Yu Jiahui
	Silk Road, 1999 - Children of the loess country seeing themselves on video
Silk Road, 1999 - the Singing Sands of Dunhuang
	Silk Road, 1999 - Turpan, mother and child
Silk Road, 1999 - donkey cart to Gaochang
	Silk Road, 1999 - Turpan, Uighur child
Silk Road, 1999 - Urumqi, Uighur mother and child
	Silk Road, 1999 - Urumqi, sketching/writing on shore of Heavenly Lake
Silk Road, 1999 - Kashgar Sunday Market
	Silk Road, 1999 - Uighurs negotiating the price of red peppers at Kashgar Sunday Market
Silk Road, 1999 - Kashgar Sunday Market
	Central Asia Silk Road, 1999 - border into Kyrgystan, Torugart Pass
Central Asia Silk Road, 1999 - Lady H waiting it out at the pass
	Central Asia Silk Road, 1999 - a second checkpoint, Kyrgystan
Central Asia Silk Road, 1999 - Tianshan Mountains
	Central Asia Silk Road, 1999 - early morning at the Naryn Yurt Hotel
Silk Road, 1999 - Samarkand, Uzbekistan, on steps of a madrassa

JOURNAL

DUNHUANG

Time remains constant across China. Nine o'clock pm full darkness upon Beijing is nine o'clock pm and a brilliant sun lowering over the Singing Sands of Dunhuang. We arrived to the camel base as sun was near setting. No need to check our watches, time mattered not. Before us rose the amber, razor-edged mounds known as the Singing Sands of Dunhuang... and camels awaited.

Selection of camels was a matter of first impression. A trusty look seemed worth considering. Comfort? This would have to be determined by one's own level of tolerance. We were greeted with long, achy camel moans sprinkled with spits and schnurckles, as if we should believe those poor creatures were tired. We were not to be fooled. All around us was the lively activity of bargaining the return ride, hoping for a return at same price. There were caravan bells to be purchased and photos to be taken 360 degrees. Oh, the delight when 1-2-3 and up we were, atop the world on a camel. A slow ride put us to Crescent Lake just as the sun was dropping into the horizon. Some of our group chose to climb by foot, others were pulled in carts. Books tell us the sands are shifting, that winds and time push the hills into new mounds creating new landscapes. The dunes we saw that evening were just as those seen in travel readings and postcards of the past century. We returned to our hotel satisfied, anticipating tomorrow's visit to Mogaoku, the famous Caves of the Thousand Buddha's.

It is safe to say that the caves of Dunhuang are a highlight of the Silk Road. Here it is possible to view what remains of frescoes and carvings created by Buddhist monks of the Tang Dynasty (618 - 907 A.D.), a golden era in China. By the end of the Ming Dynasty (1368 - 1644 A.D.) the arts had fallen into decline, the Silk Road had ceased to be an important vehicle of merchant exchange and Islam had overtaken Buddhism as the primary religion. At the start of the 20th century, archeologists were racing into the Taklamakan desert in search of relics to bring home to their museums. The caves suffered much damage during those years of foreign expeditions. Good fortune is that much of what imagery survived is magnificent. Climatic conditions have preserved materials and colors to appear recently rendered. I gazed up to ceilings that, by flashlight only, revealed vibrant patterns and images. As the light moved across the walls, I was struck by the vivid similarity to our early 20th century paintings by Picasso and Rouault. No photography allowed, thus our memories are in the many books, brochures and painted reproductions we carried home as bounty.

KASHGAR

Arrival into Kashgar airport was a preview of what we would experience during our final days on the China Silk Road. We joined Uighurs attired in colorful exotic dress, greeting and embracing; all of us scrunched together into a small receptacle to find luggage tumbling helter-skelter onto the floor for grabbing. Smiling children hugged close to their aged guardians. Against a wall a musician added to the gaiety. Our guide was practiced in the art of arrival and retrieval. He managed well.

It was told to us in Urumqi that if you do not visit Xinjiang Province, you do not know China. In Kashgar it is said that to know Xinjiang, one must experience Kashgar. Here we found a predominance of Uighurs, an ancient people, Muslims of intensity, keenly commercial. For 2000 years, goods that survived the northern Silk Road desert would pass through Kashgar on their way to Central Asia. Likewise, goods coming into China moved along these same roads, and throughout these 2000 years the highlight of Kashgar has remained Sunday Bazaar, where goods of all varieties are available for purchase and trade.

We arrived by bus; the locals arrived by donkey, horse, camel, and bicycle and on foot. Goods of every purpose, in numbers beyond imagination, were arranged in brightly ribboned tents or on carpets placed on the ground. Foodstuffs were prepared under tents and in the open for immediate enjoyment. Livestock were groomed and poised for consideration. And there were horses, the finest of working horses, tearing through the crowds in clouds of dust, urged on by their breeders. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, an interested buyer would leap onto the back of a horse as it charged past, kicking and whipping the steed into full gallop, jerking it on a moment to full stop. A companion traveler marveled, "That man and horse were one!" Yes, perhaps so. In this world, the quality of his horse can determine a man's prospects for a good life.

Kashgar was the ending point of our China Silk Road Journey. Seventeen travelers would return to Beijing and exit China to return home. For seven travelers in our group, Central Asia would be our next destination.

KASHGAR AND OVER THE PASS

On the evening of May 8, I received word from our agent in US advising me of the border crossing schedule for May 10. He had been assured two times there would be no problem on the Kyrgystan side. May 10 is liberation holiday in Kyrgystan and although borders are closed, special arrangements had been made to put us over. Our guide and driver would be waiting for us. On the China side, we were assured there was no reason for the border to be closed. Telephone numbers were provided in event of a problem. We were to proceed as planned.

May 9. It was a long evening, this night before the border. The hours providing water to our rooms were short... off at 9 p.m., on at 7 a.m. Nearing 11 p.m., guide Abdul knocked on my door and informed me I should have a good English-speaking guide when we cross the border. It was arranged. At midnight an aggressive water pipe ignored the "water off" policy and unashamedly flooded my bath. Two men arrived, oohed and ahhed the situation and in short time it was repaired. Undaunted, I packed.

May 10. I was given one copy of the document that would put us over the border. With this paper came a list of instructions: There would be the Passport stop, the Customs stop (requiring second passport copy), an Official Customs stop, then, the fourth stop where a final Immigration Officer would accept that one precious document allowing our group of seven to enter. I was advised, "Be patient. It will not be easy." Upon reaching the Chinese checkpoint, I would be the only American allowed off the bus. First to speak would be our driver announcing our intentions. Second would be our guide. I would be called last. We arrived to the first check and we cleared. At the second check, we did not. The customs building was deserted. The Chinese staff was celebrating the Kyrgyz holiday! We were denied.

With our guide at my side, we looked into every office hoping for a telephone. Directed to a small store in a strip mall of sorts, I now was able to contact responsible parties. This required four phone calls to Tashkent, two to Kashgar. I welcomed my lesson in Uighur language, "Rakhmet. Thank you." A surprising note, the telephone had a digital printout displaying the cost of the calls. Sixty desolate miles from Kashgar, no enterprise but farming for meager existence, and this store was stocked, and not only with the high tech telephone. There were pots, pans, beans, nuts, canned juices, beer, batteries and paper towels, shelves of familiar items... this was a mini Wal-Mart! Five male Uighurs stood to my side in a semi-circle, curious of my efforts, delightfully polite. Meanwhile, my sequestered fellow travelers had no idea what to expect. It was with mixed feelings I had to announce we must return to Kashgar, disappointed for the failing but grateful we had our former rooms arranged for our return.

May 11. We gathered our box lunches and boarded our bus again. Same scenery, different thoughts, but this time we managed the first step out of China. Our Kyrgyz guides were waiting. Indeed, they had waited through the night sleeping in the van, 13,000 ft elevation, no covers to warm them. Rough. Our itinerary was adjusted to pick up the lost time. This day proved the most exhausting of our journey. Torugart Pass at 13,800 ft. is icy cold, no restrooms anywhere but the hillsides. At the major checkpoint into Kyrgystan, indifferent Russianesque guards detained us for 5 hours. Grim. Even the low slung mongrels blended into the landscape. A full eleven hours riding in a tiny, too tight van put us into the Naryn Yurt Hotel shortly before midnight. I slept a dark, starry night under 5 wooly blankets.... and awakened to a bright new world.

May 12. Gathered around a family style table we enjoyed hot coffee, warm breads and yogurt -- we had arrived Central Asia. Today we would drive to Bishkek.