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We were up at 0530 as we were departing in an hour's time for the border crossing to china and onward journey to Kashgar. I went to the dining room to find that Mr Mirabek had already set up breakfast for us and he popped in a little later to give us 2 fried eggs each. Not that I'm keeping tabs on the condition of my arteries but I make that 5 fired eggs in two days! These eggs, however, were lightly salted and, in the words of Maria, 'were the best I've ever tasted'. They were made, you see, with that magic ingredient, love!
Mr Mirabek seems to be bit of a visionary, as he is the only person in Sary Tash who has embraced the tourist industry. Consequently, anyone using the pass to China will stop off for the night at his. He's even building another house in preparation for the completion of the road which should be finished in two year's time!
We headed off at 0630 on the dot as we needed to reach border control by 1000. We found out today that China operates two time zones, Beijing time and local time. All government agencies work to Beijing time which means they are always two hours ahead so if we arrived at 1000 local the chances are we would have had to wait for the official to finish lunch; it would have been 1200 Beijing time.
It was a gloriously crisp morning, the sky was clear save for a few bands of cloud and the white mountains where easily visible against the glare of the rising sun. Pleased with our efficiency this morning we said a warm goodbye to Mr Mirabek and settled down for the 80 km drive to the check point. We stopped briefly to admire the mountains and take some photos then a few miles down the road we were passing a particularly spectacular view that reminded Maria of the Himalayas when I thought how lovely it would be to stop again, but conscious of time decided to just let them go by and savour the memory. 100 yards down the road we had a puncture! It was 0650.
It was nippy outside and we did our best to help Ulan and the driver change the wheel by taking photos and keeping out of their way. Maria started to feel the morning air so I dug out my gloves and woolly hat from the rucksack sat on the road and couldn't help laughing as she put everything on then zipped herself up as if she was preparing to summit Everest. It's not a bad analogy as the highest peaks here are pretty impressive at 7800m, albeit we were at a trifling 3000m! I actually did my bit today by finding a nice flat stone on which to rest the jack. It was freezing when I picked it up from the roadside but thinking about it, what did I expect? I also got the chance to administer immediate first aid to the driver as he skinned his finger when changing the tyre. One anti-sceptic wipe and a plaster later we were on our way again! It's turning into a great day really as we've had a chance to use all the gear we've been needlessly lugging around for the past 6-weeks in the 35°C + heat of the desert!
The road is atrocious and it really is a work in progress. With constant stops to allow the Chinese lorry convoys to pass, numerous off-roading to avoid the pot-holes, now to be called pot-canyons, and never ending zigzagging across the muddy surface to find the best line we were in constant fear of another puncture. Then we would have been seriously b*****ed. It's amazing how many trucks we passed hauled up at the mudside (new addition to the Stuart English Dictionary), wheels off or bonnet hoods up, the drivers trying by themselves to repair their wounded vehicles, not asking for help and none being offered by the constant flow of passing vehicles.
Maria comments that the mountains on our left look like a black and white watercolour and hung against a menacing sky, a work of art painted by nature. They really are quite bizarrely beautiful and have no brushstrokes out of place. They pass us by and, as the snow thins and the roadside gives way to loose rocks, Ulan points out the merest glimpse of snow starting to drift over the road. 'This will be one metre deep by this evening' he tells us. 'The lorries will have to wait it out and possibly be dug out by the road workers in the morning!' Pleased we set off so early, we head on down the mountain and pass the last village in Kyrgyzstan before China, which has been rebuilt since it was totally destroyed by an earthquake in 2008.
The first check point is a couple of clicks away which we soon reach with an extra passenger on board, a lorry driver who's truck has a broken rear axle; we return him to the depot for help.
As we prepare to say goodbye to Ulan at the Kyrgyzstan exit check-point he briefs us on the border procedure; 'You hitch a lift to the Chinese check-point in a lorry returning from Kyrgyzstan then meet your driver'. He helps us load our bags into the driver's cab then we drive the 4km to commence the Chinese immigration procedure, which we know from the Lonely Planet can be quite an interesting event! We don't make the full 4km however, as the lorry is stopped by a Chinese soldier with 1km to go and he politely advises the driver that we need to get out and walk the final stretch. No worry, we are pleased that we got a lift for the first 3km and even more pleased to at last get some use from our North Face jackets; it's pretty chilly with a biting wind outside. We start the 1000m metres or so up hill, pass the lorry that just dropped us off, and slowly make our heavily laden selves to the portacabin immigration office. I watch impressed as two policemen smartly exchange posts controlling the flow of traffic, their flag waving precision and smartness reminiscent of Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. We handover our passports at the window, drop our bags and are kindly asked to wait.
After a few minutes we are asked to come inside the hut and unpack all our gear. It's now that the advice in the Lonely Planet guide starts to become evident, starting with the removal of Taiwan from the map of the inside cover of the guide book. 'This map is wrong. Taiwan is part of China' declares the soldier as he kindly helps Maria tear off the incorrect corner. We unreservedly hand over our map of the world, which is also wrong for the same reason but the checks of all our other reading material find nothing out of order. We receive cursory checks of our opened bags and the officers looking after us are actually pretty down to earth and chatty. The photos on both digital cameras are checked as is the netbook, the latter taking considerably longer to be given the thumbs up which is understandable. Maria was a little concerned that they were reading the blog and thinking we were reporters but I like to think they were just enjoying our pictures or maybe even watching one of our holiday movies!
During the check we were told that the formal exit gate was another 4km away. Not sure where our guide was meeting us, ie here or at the outer limit, we were told that we could, nevertheless, hitch another ride in a lorry on its way back to China. Our slight fears were unnecessary though as a few minutes later Wahap, our guide pitched up with Sherpadin, the driver. After a very pleasant 50 minutes at the check-point, we were given the all clear and were our way to Kashgar. It was about midday.
A simple journey with some pretty amazing, but desolate scenery, got us to the Saman hotel in 4-5 hours. We immediately dumped the first double room we were offered as it was not as clean as we would have liked and opted for another instead but with twin beds. As soon as we entered the new room Maria heard a chirping noise coming from the skirting board in a corner near my bed. A quick inspection revealed a 3 inch square hole containing feathers and an apparently occupied bird's nest!
Now, we've seen some rooms in our time but this one surely has to win the prize on the world's list of reasons for rejecting a hotel room! Before you knew it, we had the manager, 2 maids and 2 maintenance guys in the room, fascinated by the noise emanating from the wall. One of the maids unabashedly hitched up her skirt, giving me a wonderful view of her ladder-ridden pop-socks, and climbed onto the windowsill to see what the problem was. Quite why we're not sure as we could have told them if they'd asked. 'There's a bird living in the wall of our room' would have been our response. Not complicated really! We go out for dinner at 1830 local time on the understanding that the problem will be resolved on our return.
I now need to go into a little politics to try and explain some of the dynamic going on in Xianjiang Province. Wahap is a Muslim and a member of the Uighur ethnic group. The Uighers once comprised 90% of Xianjiang's population but today it is less than 50%. Nevertheless, they still want to establish a separate, independent state. Consequently, prejudice and discrimination against Uighers can run quite strong in Xianjiang and under China's ongoing 'Develop the West' campaign, Han Chinese are being enticed with social and economic incentives to migrate to western provinces. One complication created by this divide is the time. All of China officially runs on Beijing time. Xianjiang, however, is two time zones behind Beijing but runs duelling clocks. Thus, while the Chinese tend to stick to the official Beijing time the ethnic minorities set their clocks to unofficial local time which is 2 hours behind Beijing. Almost all government-run services eg banks, post offices, bus stations and airlines run on Beijing time. So, depending on your ethnicity, you tend to stick to either local of Beijing time. We're on local time which explains why we're going for dinner so early.
I had a great meal but everything we had was 'contaminated' with meat or meat flavours so Maria left the restaurant hungry. Wahap did order some boiled rice and vegetables but the vegetables never did turn up so, hungry and frustrated, Maria made a gallant attempt to eat the rice with some sauce from one of the dishes but gave up after a couple of mouthfuls. Wahap looked mortified but quickly understood our eating preferences so don't think he'll make the same mistake again! We returned to the hotel to find the hole tacked shut with a piece of thin chipboard.
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