Night Train to Turpan

Lots of people can't sleep on trains, but I find them relaxing. It was quite a difference waking up in the sandy dunes of Turpan. This is a grape growing center, despite the arid desert environment, with water provided from a series of underground wells, a technology borrowed from the ancient Persians. Water from these wells is considered zamzamsu in Islam, worthy of a Haj to Saudi Arabia.
The ubiquitous grapes are a part of every home here, and a peek into the family coutryard reveals a lovely outdoor room covered by a grape arbor and carpeted in the vibrant reds of their Persian carpets. The music is Middle Eastern, the dress Central Asian, the donkey carts could be from anywhere in eastern Europe 100 years ago. The most common food is shashli kawob, more familiarly known as shish kabob to us, beef or mutton.
What is striking here as a contrast to most of China is the single story buildings: in Datong it was due to the honeycomb of coal mines under the streets, but here it the style in a land that can accommodate larger homes, yards even, and graves with a tomb and a yard. The architecture is basically mud, as it has alwys been, something that has made preservation of ancient sites a challenge.
We visited a raisin merchant's home, taking tea under the bright green ceiling of the grape arbor and sat with a 108- year old woman. Encouraged to ask her questions, the group complied:
Do you still dream?
What was the furthest you've travelled from home?
What do you think of the young people today?
For your information, she eats little more than a handful of dark raisins every day, or so she says, clever girl!