Kashgar

A few points of order, first. My guide turned up yesterday evening for dinner. I don't know whether he thought I might be lonely or something but we sat down in John's cafe and I started to order some food (the menu is in English for us tourists) but the guide wasn't ordering anything and I asked why. He said it was a Chinese restaurant which didn't register with me and he explained that as a Muslim he couldn't eat here (he's something of a non-praying, beer-swigging, taking the girlfriend with him on the trip -- which is another story altogether of bust up hotel rooms and police involvement -- Muslim but one for whom the preparation of food is vital). And then it occurred to me that all the places we'd been to on the trip would have been Muslim restaurants -- including several that were happy for the customers to drink beer. I don't know how this reveal will affect people's perception of Muslims. It shouldn't in any way. All the Muslim restaurants I've eaten in to date (in Morocco, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Iran, Pakistan and India) have been perfectly fine, only those here in China have lacked something on the hygiene/presentation front.

I suggested we head round the corner then so he could eat and we went into a place he clearly knew well and tucked into chicken fried noodles (ie. a standard Chinese dish).

I mentioned to him the difficulty of making your way round China without speaking Chinese: hotels you can probably bluster but food looks just about impossible. I mentioned that in Japan they have pictures of the food and he said that in Chinese restaurants they also have pictures of the food (point and eat?). I recall in one of the hotels a picture-wall of food dishes and later on today I saw another picture-wall of food dishes in a restaurant. I conclude, therefore, that you can (OK, might) bluster your way to ordering some kind of food. Assuming you're in a non-Muslim part of China (which is most of it, to be fair).

I also suggested yesterday that there were hardly any Westerners here in Kashgar. That was before the two coach loads of Swiss mountaineers disgorged themselves as well as a Dragoman truck appearing in the car park. I've done a couple of these overland truck trips (for four and three weeks apiece) and you split up into cliques pretty quickly -- often orientated around whether you feel you're allowed to stay up late for a second beer -- but the Dragoman ones run for six months and more. Travelling with people you like for months on end can be trying, people you never met before you boarded the bus (and grabbed the good seat or were left with the crappy one)?

Talking of crappy, I managed to block the bog again. This must be something I've picked up from sharing a house with TR for a year or so. The story of the deblocking of her bog is almost legendary, not only did the man clear it, um, manually, but he immediately accepted her proffered cup of tea with same hand...

Anyway, by coincidence, or not, this is exactly the same model of loo as when the incident occurred in Iran last year. The cistern is level with the bowl and the water inlet is not under the rim but at surface level. The net effect is that when you flush a reluctant dribble of water begins to circulate around the bowl with the effect less of flushing but more of raising the water level with the hope that the gravitational pressure will see you good. Not always if you been a bit blocked up my empirical study suggests.

To add insult to injury my bowels decided they were back in working order this morning (perhaps helped by last night's beer) leaving me with some unwelcome guests staring back defiantly at me from the bowl. Of course, "flushing" was of little use and there no brush or other suitable implement to attack the problem. There's no explaining this to the Chinese (no English) and I wasn't about to get my hands dirty. So I left it, festering, as you do.

As it happens it was raining all morning so I surfed the web idly. A normal day at the office, you might say. I eventually went back to the room where several flushes later the blockage miraculously cleared itself moments before the cleaning lady knocked on the door... A lucky escape for all!

The rain finally stopped at 2pm. That was time enough to read that a) Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan is blooming expensive b) I might be staying in several yurts to get there and c) I need to call on my Russian speaking friends (I exaggerate the number of Russian-speaking friends, here) to negotiate initial and final attendance times at the Uzbekistan embassy and that it might take eight days to get a visa!! I might need to read the section for Dushanbe (Tajikistan) and see what it says there as an alternative.

I set out and wandered around Kashgar on foot. I must admit I didn't take the most scenic route but I did eventually find a stall selling the local hats. A few trial hats later (and thumbs up from the locals for aesthetic value) I found that rather than the stiff presentation display hats you could get them in a folded state (much better for limited space motorcycles). I found the one for my brother-in-law (it might be a bit small, sorry, but there's a perched-on-the-head style you can work with) and another for one of the nephews but it was in the stiff form. The vendor had a little mist-sprayer but it was out of liquid. He filled it with tea from his kettle but the sprayer wasn't working so he took a gulp of tea from the spout of his pot then sprayed/spat it onto the hat to soften it. I imagine it didn't do much to soften it and he just cracked it to fold it like an origami box. DD, you have some authentic Chinese tea spat by a Chinaman (actually a Uyghur) on your hat. Lets hope it fits after all this.

I then set off round the old town and onto the "Sunday" market (it was in full swing, I've no idea why it's labelled on my map as the Sunday market) where they do not sell anything that is readily identifiable as Chinese. Lots of hats, knives, steel vases, lots of colourful (and sparkly) fabrics but nothing especially "Chinese." I'm not sure quite what I was expecting but maybe something with some Chinese calligraphy on it, perhaps, there wasn't even any Uyghur calligraphy (which is Persian with most of the meanings changed).

So I've failed in my duties as an uncle, again. The simple task of going to China and buying something Chinese. The simplest tasks are often the most difficult...