What to do with Excess Labor

Imagine driving along the most desolate and remote desert this side of the Mojave and seeing some poor schmuck sweeping the highway with one of those wretched Chinese brooms that requires (or develops) a constant stoop. It's a never ending task, to be sure, a real "iron rice bowl."

Driving out of Urumqi to the old central Silk Road route was a fascinating study in geology: the former seafloor has experienced violent interaction at some point and the magnificent twists and folds make a unique landscape. Along the Tienshan Mountain pass, it could be Afghanistan, from what I've seen of the pictures in the news: not a shred of vegetation, not a hint of water, but bitterly cold in the Winter and unbearably hot in the Summer. And Tienshan in English means "heavenly mountain!"

Sad to report that my years-old China notebook was lost somewhere along the way, including my choice menu translations. I can only remember my favorite: Six Flavor Match the Color! But I do have some cute "Engrish" quotes from our Muslim Uighur guide, Dolkum: Crossing the mountains, he pointed out cell phone minarets. He told a story of how the Mongolians on the area preferred to have sky burials, where relatives took the deceased into the jungle (clearly, there is no jungle between here and the Burma border) and a local delicacy is jungle kabobs, made with mutton. We could pass our free time at the Beauty Saloon if we liked.

Food isn't very exotic here: no coconut grubs, baby bees or ant eggs. In Shanxi Province donkey meat was a delicacy: I did try it, but as it was served with Shanxi vinegar, the unique taste was rather subverted. In Kanas, we tried the local fish from rivers that flow to the Arctic, and at $25 a plate, it was the priciest thing I think I've ever had in China. Mutton is of course the common culinary denominator here, a thread of commonality between Buddhist Mongolians, Muslim Uighurs, Kazakhs and Uzbeks, and Han Chinese.

The first stop as we skirted the Taklamakan Desert was Korla, a town we all expected to be a dusty backwater, but lo and behold, it is an oil center and as such has direct flights to Beijing, and one of the loveliest riverfronts this side of San Antonio. What a pleasant surprise! The weather continues to be warm, even at night, and we continue to enjoy what must be the best time to visit Xinjiang Province. Kucha was smaller, but I'd put the hotel there up against anything in the States below the Ritz Carlton level, but Aksu's finest is a Soviet-era Friendship Hotel, everything you'd expect from a Friendship Hotel: dank bathroom, shower curtain too short, rock-hard mattress. Actually, since our other lodgings have been so nice, and exceeding my expectations, Aksu was the only expected thing on the Silk Road so far!

I am just enchanted with the poplar-lined roads wherever there is agriculture or a town: I'm sure I've seen the scenes in Dr. Zhivago. The most popular mode of transport is donkey cart, and well-tended donkeys trot along pulling skullcap-wearing grandfathers and their loads of corn, or women wearing babushkas and knee-length skirts (but no veils). Really, it could be Russia except for the occasional camel ambling along the roadside. The Northern part of the Province is officially trilingual, so all signage includes Uighur, which looks like Arabic and sounds Turkish; Mongolian, which looks and sounds Tibetan, and Chinese. And of course, Western writing is also popular.

I'm looking forward to Kashgar and the Sunday camel market there, but I have little room for carpets, knives or any other specialty of the region. That's the end of the trip! In a province with about as much environmental diversity as California, I feel as if I've been all over China on a magic carpet (which is about how our driver conducts his car: he's received two speeding violations so far).