Post 4: LANZHOU – JIAYUGUAN - URUMQI

As a city of more than three million people, Lanzhou is busy. The change from Chengdu is apparent immediately after stepping off the train. From the sight of men with Uyghur hats selling bread, to the visual backdrop of having a city placed next to steep hills. Lanzhou was an historic bartering centre for centuries, situated on what was subsequently called the ‘Silk Road’ - an important stretch of trading routes running from Asia to Europe and North Africa. Because of Lanzhou’s central location, it has changed hands many times in the past three millennia.

I spend the afternoon wandering around the food markets, and in the evening decide it would be nice to go and see the Huange He (Yellow River), a river which has been an important part of Chinese society since time immemorial. I get lost looking for it, and stop two people in the street, doing my best to pronounce ‘Huange He’ with the right drawl. They are mother and daughter, and the latter can speak some English. She says they are walking there right now, it is a walk they do most days of the week, and I must join them. We walk and talk, talk and walk.

When we reach the river is it much more overwhelming for me than it is for them, as I have never seen it before. Nor have I touched it. They take me down to a jetty where I can put my hands in. As I lean over they grab my body so I do not fall in - the force of the river is so strong, like a flexing muscle. A dreamy part of me actually wants to fall in and get swept away by its magic. But not today. We walk beside it for a couple of miles, and take a different route back. We pass through a park where crowds of people are dancing in unison. I cannot quite figure what genre the music is, but it is certainly Chinese. The dancing is also unfamiliar, it looks rather like tai chi being performed at ten times the speed.

We walk a different route back through some parks. Both along the river and in these well kept gardens, it is not surprising to see numerous young couples sat down looking longingly at each other, or pensively up at to the sky. We say goodnight as we reach their apartment. They offer to feed me, but they have already done enough to make my evening quite special, so I go to a small eatery and stuff myself with some local style beef noodles.

The morning train from Lanzhou to Jiayuguan takes seven hours. Normally this would seem like a long time, but the time seems to pass remarkably quickly, as relative to other journeys I have made so far this one is relatively short. As well as the beautiful scenery which the ‘Hexi Corridor’ does not fail to deliver, the journey is also dominated by what seems like a never ending spiel from one of the members of staff trying to sell everything from whiteboards to toothbrushes to children’s books.

I alight at Jiayuguan. The place is very deceptive. The sun beats down as the electric bicycles gently flow round the wide boulevards, giving the place a relaxed feel. But suddenly everything changes. In just a few minutes a sandstorm wreaks havoc around the streets. Market traders feebly try to cover their fruit as debris flies, cars swerve and people hurry for cover. There seems to be no such thing as a perfect storm when it comes to sand. It ends up in my ears, eyes, hair, not to mention other more sensitive parts of the body. I dive into a restaurant, which conveniently serves some lovely grub, and watch the events unfold through the safety of a window.

The sandstorm is completely over by the evening, so I go for a long walk around town. On my way back to the hostel I am staying at I face the choice of going an indirect way with the assistance of street lighting, or going along a small, dark lane which is a much shorter route. I choose the latter, lit only by the light of a shop in the distance. I pass several people on the way, which is an unnerving experience as their silhouettes loom past me.

I make it as far as the shop, and decide to go in and get a bottle of water. But as I enter the place I have the uncomfortable experience of discovering that this is not a grocery store, it is a sex shop. Objects are situated all over the room, enough to make even Ann Summer’s blush. The man looks up at me, as if to say “What do you want?”, but for some reason the situation has not quite sunk in yet, and my mind is still set on buying a drink. I do a hand movement which I often use to signify I am thirsty i.e. hoisting my clenched hand backwards and forwards towards my mouth. Alas, in this establishment that means something completely different. I make a hasty retreat.

The next morning I go and visit the Jiayuguan fort, the historic limit of the Chinese Empire and the western end of the Great Wall. To get there I must take a bus. I find the stop, and after asking some of the people which number I need, the penny (or Yuan) drops that I am not from round here. No one can speak more than a few words of English, yet for the next half an hour we somehow manage to interact and jokingly pass away the time. When the bus finally arrives, I feel a little disappointed that it has to end.

Luckily, though, they are all boarding this bus too. It is a squeeze to get on, yet despite being packed the new acquaintances of mine make way so I can not only get through, but also have a seat. I feel like an Emperor, albeit one that would use public transport.

After wandering around the fort, I take a deep breath and make my way to the train station, ready to leave Jiayuguan , and with it old China, behind. Traders and travellers for centuries have expressed a mixture of emotions when making this departure west. In the 1920s Mildred Cable discovered some graffiti  which read: ‘When I leave thy gates of Jiayuguan / My Tears may never cease to run’

 

I wouldn’t go that far - I do feel a little morose looking back at the town as the train accelerates, but as the borders of China and population demographics have shifted over the years, today this means I am not actually leaving China behind but going to yet another one of her thriving cities - Urumqi.