A Hard Rains A Gonna Fall

Here we are in Turpan, the hottest and one of the driest places in China, and it's pissing it down. This is only supposed to happen once every ten years, so I'm wondering if we have a rain god in our midst. Yesterday we visited an ancient abandoned Chinese city built of mud brick which has survived thus far due to minimal rain erosion opportunities in this part of the World. It may not be looking quite so sprightly today I suspect.

China continues to be a challenge to the spirit and morale of the group despite its many fascinating aspects, and there is no doubt that the journey along the Northern Silk Road from Kashgar to Turpan has been the least rewarding section of the entire trip. Of course this is the outermost reaches of China, and Xinxiang is a province which is economically backward and ethnically divided compared to other parts of the country. No doubt the Silk Road was always a challenge by this route; a long and arduous camel trek from oasis to oasis, crossing massive stretches of a waterless moonscape on a road squeezed up against the foot of the arid Tien Shan mountains by the forbidding mass of the Taklamakan Desert (which means 'Go in and don't come out'). We haven't really penetrated the desert ourselves, so it presents itself to us at its fringes as a shimmering, scrubby and utterly flat expanse of nothingness. My craving to get in amongst rolling sand dunes must wait until Dunhuang unfortunately. Instead, we've had long and hot days sitting on a Chinese bus, relieved only by a string of forgettable modern Chinese cities and interchangeable, souless hotels. Our guide has been a source of constant frustration though I'm pleased to say we're finally shot of him. I suspect things might have been different if we'd had Tonka and the freedom to bush camp, but the ridiculously long delay at the border continued right up until yesterday. Even now Riki is frantically driving across 1000km of China to catch up with us here, hopefully tomorrow.

Turpan is a place of statistical interest more than actual interest, though it's by far the best of our stopping off points since Kashgar. As well as being the hottest place in China, it is also situated near to the second lowest place on the Earth's surface, and is reputedly the city furthest away from the ocean. It hardly warrants city status to be honest, but it is certainly surrounded by a series of interesting ancient sites, and it is home to a 2000 year old subterranean irrigation system which the tourist board like to trumpet as one of the three wonders of ancient China. It did seem a little odd to be sitting under grape trellises for lunch yesterday in a lush and fertile valley in a place where it hardly ever rains.

Nevertheless, my favourite place in China remains Kashgar, which had a super relaxed atmosphere that fitted our mood well after the trials of the days before. The Sunday Market was impressive though most agreed it wasn't as sensational as all the guide book hype would suggest. The Chinese have broken it into two parts and introduced a level of organisation which has reduced the appealing chaos of old. Still, it remains a sight to see and I was in seventh heaven when I strolled into the hat section of the market, making off with a total of nine new ones for my collection from Kashgar!

The food in Xinxiang has been a highlight for me. It's become a bit of a joke that whatever I order it will end up involving green chilli peppers somewhere along the line, but actually it's been a pleasant change and surprise to have spicy food to eat. I even managed to get an excellent cup of coffee at a Chinese buffet restaurant we took by storm the other night. However, I've decided to draw the line at tasting the garden pea flavoured ice lollies they have for sale here.

Nightclubbing remains as amusing here as elsewhere in Central Asia. Last night a few of us ended up at 'The Mars Bar', where it quickly became clear that the local style of dancing involved proceeding in a stately fashion and in an anticlockwise direction around a circular dancefloor, preferably clutching a partner to keep you company. We had a lot of fun doing the conga against the tidal flow in a clockwise direction to the total mystification of the locals.