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Before It's Gone:
Western China's Xinjiang Region Sees Unusual Culture
Slipping away
Joshua Kurlantzick
January 26, 2003
XINJIANG, China - In five years of living in and
traveling around Asia, I frequently scoffed at
foreigners' stories of places that had been ``ruined''
by modernization, of destinations I had to visit
before they were wrecked. For instance, while some
people visiting Bangkok thought it an ugly, modern
city, I saw a metropolis that had managed to expand
without losing its uniquely Thai identity.
But even I eventually found a stunning place that
seemed on the verge of being decimated: China's
Xinjiang province. Though I have visited every country
in East Asia save North Korea, Xinjiang was the most
photogenic and culturally fascinating place I have
seen -- a massive area populated primarily by Uyghurs
(pronounced WEE-gurs), a Muslim Turkic ethnic group.
Yet modernization and pressure from Beijing on the
Uyghur culture seriously threaten the very aspects
that enchanted me. Even worse, unlike changes in
Thailand, Xinjiang's modernization appears unlikely to
benefit most of the province's inhabitants.
I spent seven days this summer desperately trying to
see -- and scout out for other visitors -- every
Xinjiang site I expect to be gone in five years, and
attempting to discover what the future held for the
province.
Urumqi
A companion and I started our trip in Urumqi,
Xinjiang's largest city. Almost immediately, we felt
like we were no longer in China. Wandering through the
city's central market as Turkish pop music wafted
through the air, I was reminded of Jordan. As in
Amman, chatty Urumqi carpet vendors plied us with tiny
cups of tea and Middle Eastern-style bagels. Outside,
dried-fruit vendors yelled at the top of their lungs
to advertise their selection, while young boys ran
through the crowd, lifting packages in exchange for a
bit of baksheesh.
Outside the market, however, Urumqi is becoming a
Chinese city. Beijing fears the Uyghurs, who briefly
had their own state before the Communist takeover in
1949, and over the past two decades has attempted to
neuter Xinjiang's society, culture and economy by
launching aggressive resettlement policies. Only
300,000 Han Chinese resided in Xinjiang in 1949; now
there are more than 6.4 million. Beijing also has
formulated policies that deprive the Uyghurs of their
heritage. Artists suspected of ``advocating
separatism''-- a broad category that could include
simply promoting Uyghur arts -- have had their works
seized and their homes destroyed. And since the Sept.
11 attacks, the situation has gotten worse. Beijing
has attempted to link the few Uyghur separatist groups
that exist to al-Qaeda, though independent Uyghur
experts say there is no evidence of ties to Osama bin
Laden's organization, and most Uyghurs do not want to
separate from China. Nonetheless, over the past year
China has intensified its crackdown in Xinjiang,
arresting and executing hundreds of Uyghurs.
The next day, we drove north from Urumqi to Tian Chi,
or Heaven Lake, a little slice of alpine tarns and
mountains inhabited primarily by ethnic Kazakh nomads.
For 200 Chinese yuan ($25) we stayed two nights in a
local family's yurt, a round felt Kazakh tent. (The
price included dinner, though we had a hard time
explaining to the Kazakhs that we didn't eat meat;
when we told our host, she offered us lamb.) The
family had placed their yurts amid the Xinjiang
equivalent of a trailer park -- clusters of yurts
decorated with strings of lights. The park even came
complete with Kazakh trailer trash, a young woman in a
halter top -- most nomads wear long coats and riding
pants -- who frequently bickered with her significant
other.
Unfortunately, across the lake from our yurt we could
see Tian Chi's future. The local government was
building a series of attractions that reminded me of
the ugly, exploitative sites that have sprung up near
many Indian reservations in the United States. We saw
booths where Chinese tourists could get their pictures
taken in traditional Kazakh dress, speedboats that
zoomed day-trippers across the lake, paved hiking
paths, trailside banquet halls.
But none of this construction could yet detract from
the area itself, the most stunning mountain scenery I
had seen in China. On our second day by the lake, we
wandered up a horse path on Lamppost Mountain, one of
the circle of peaks surrounding Tian Chi. After an
hour of hiking, we were secluded in a high pine forest
blessed with occasional clearings that offered views
of the shimmering lake, which changed from green to
turquoise as the sun rose.
Turpan
We drove the next morning along a new superhighway to
Turpan, one of the oasis towns dotting the vast low
Taklamakan Desert. Turpan actually sits in the
second-lowest spot on Earth, 508 feet below sea level.
While the other oasis cities are relatively recent
constructions, Turpan dates back 2,000 years and was a
key trading post during the Silk Road era. On the
outskirts of town, we stopped at the Bezelik Caves,
one of several ruins of pre-Islamic cities carved into
the sandstone cliffs near modern-day Turpan. The
circular sandstone dwellings and underground hideaways
reminded me of Tatooine, Star Wars' sand planet.
We also stopped at Gaocheng, another ancient sandstone
city that had deteriorated more than Bezelik -- though
the old monastery/library that served as the town
center remained, its thousand-year-old bookshelves and
rooms intact. As at Tian Chi, however, tour groups had
discovered Gaocheng, and the monastery was crowded
with tourists trying on Uyghur dress and pulling off
pieces of sandstone.
Our late lunch was amid a grape valley that reminded
me of southern Italy. Along with the local grapes, we
finished with slices of hami, a succulent local
version of cantaloupe that is one reason why Xinjiang
is known across China for its delicious fruit.
Kashi
The next morning, we flew to Kashi, which would be the
highlight of our trip. A hub of the old Silk Road, at
the crossroads of Central Asia and China, Kashi has
been one of the world's major trading posts for
centuries. Today, the city still boasts an enormous
Sunday market that draws people from all over Asia.
Beijing is aggressively redeveloping Kashi, and
several residents said they expected older stone
buildings to be torn down in the next year or two.
Still, some of the older areas, as well as the Sunday
market, are weathering the pressure of development.
The alleys and bazaars of old Kashi remain the most
crowded commercial districts in town. The Seman Hotel,
an inn built in the building that served as the
Russian consulate during the 19th-entury ``Great Game,''
when Britain and Russia competed for influence in
Central Asia, is more popular than upscale new Chinese
hotels. What's more, the Uyghurs themselves still take
pride in Kashi's history. ``I prefer the old buildings,
with their courtyards, to the new construction,'' one
girl told us.
And though some Urumqi residents questioned why we
would want to buy antique Uyghur rugs -- ``Old rugs
are bad,'' one man told us, pointing us to newer,
machine-made carpets -- the Kashi carpet merchants
seemed unsurprised when we asked them to pull out
older hand-woven items. Historically, hand-woven
Uyghur carpets have been valued by collectors for
their high knot-count, beautiful pomegranate-dye
colors and elegant combinations of silk and wool. Over
the past three decades, the Chinese government has
organized Uyghur carpet weavers into state-owned
factories, which sell their products at a large
mark-up to tourist shops. (Some of these carpets
retail for over $3,000.) Yet this collectivization and
codification has not destroyed the Uyghurs' art. Some
Uyghur artisans who work for state factories also
produce more intricate and labor-intensive carpets in
home workshops and sell them to Kashi merchants.
We spent the first day wandering Kashi's labyrinthine
and visually striking back alleys, full of sandstone
houses covered in intricate tilework and lattices. Fig
sellers who pushed the ripe fruit into the hands of
passers-by competed for business with knife-sharpeners,
gold dealers and bagel bakers pulling fresh batches
out of brick ovens. Packs of children gathered around
us and clamored to have their photos taken once they
realized they could see their own image in our digital
camera's viewfinder.
I snapped photos constantly. Because of its history as
a trading post, Kashi boasts an amalgam of ethnicities,
remarkable diversity of photogenic faces and costumes.
Walking back to our hotel, we heard melancholy
accordion music wafting out of a small shop. We
stopped to listen and were invited in by the musician,
a middle-aged Uyghur man. He excitedly motioned for us
to stay and telephoned his daughter, a high school
student who desperately wanted to chat with foreigners
to improve her English. She hurried to the shop and
offered to guide us through the Sunday market the
following day, after which we would retire to her
family house for a large meal.
The next morning, the four of us -- she had brought a
friend who also was learning English -- set off for
the market. From an overlook, we could see thousands
of people streaming down into the bowels of the bazaar,
considered by many the biggest open-air market in the
world. Indeed, everything at the bazaar was huge:
Several city blocks worth of spice merchants,
thousands of donkey carts tied to trees, fruit vendors
peddling 50 watermelons at a time, seven-foot pyramids
of tea.
By 2 p.m., shopped out, we retired to our guide's
elegant stone house, where we ate on the floor in a
small, carpet-covered room off the courtyard. Over a
massive meal of dried fruits, hami, nuts, laghman (Uyghur
noodles), fresh bagels, pulao (Uyghur rice with meat
and vegetables), and, thankfully, not much lamb, the
girls told us about their plans and dreams. Both were
on their way to a university in eastern China. Though
their parents had been married by arrangement, they
both wanted to find men who loved them and try dating
before marriage; one of the girls ultimately hoped to
return to Xinjiang with a husband and start a small
business.
Still, both young women lived with their eyes open. ``Xinjiang
is changing a lot,'' said one. ``It doesn't seem much
like the same place anymore.''
Her friend agreed. ``We hope to come back and do well,
but it can be difficult to get ahead,'' she said. ``The
Chinese in Xinjiang have better schools and get jobs
and business loans more easily -- I don't know what
will happen to us.''
XINJIANG BASICS
Comprising a sixth of China's area, Xinjiang is one of
the nation's five "autonomous regions," areas
traditionally not dominated by Han Chinese. In reality,
these regions don't have much autonomy from Beijing.
Area: 635,900 square miles, slightly bigger than
Alaska
Population: 17 million in the region, 1 million in
Urumqi, 181,500 in Kashi. About 95 percent of the
population is concentrated in 3 1/2 percent of the
area. Uyghurs are estimated to be 45 percent of the
population and Han Chinese 40 percent.
Weather: In Urumqi, average high/low is 16/-2 in
January, 87/65 in July. December through February are
very snowy.
Currency: The yuan, worth about 12 cents U.S.
Time zone: Officially 16 hours ahead of Pacific
standard time, but many locals observe informal "Xinjiang
time," 14 hours ahead of Pacific.
Documentation: Passport and visa required; visa fee
from $30.
Information: www.chinaconsulatesf.org, (415) 674-2940.
IF YOU GO
Getting there: The easiest way to get to Xinjiang is
to fly to Beijing, Hong Kong or Shanghai, then catch a
China Xinjiang Airlines flight to Urumqi. China
Xinjiang also flies from Urumqi to Kashgar and to
other destinations in the province.
Major carriers including United, Cathay Pacific and
Air Canada often offer flights to eastern China for as
little as $700 round-trip from San Francisco. However,
internal flights to Xinjiang are extremely expensive:
Expect to pay at least $600 for a round-trip ticket
from eastern China to Urumqi, and $150 to fly from
there to Kashi. Great West Travel in Shanghai (+86
(21) 62798489) is one of the best Chinese travel
agents for domestic flights.
When to go: Xinjiang province is virtually
inaccessible in the bitterly cold winter, between late
October and April. Mid-summer, from late June until
late July, also can be uncomfortable; Turpan, Urumqi
and Kashi become extremely hot and dusty. Better to
visit between late July and early October. Use
sunscreen every day and drink plenty of water.
Lodging: The Holiday Inn (+86 (991) 2818788) is
Urumqi's finest hotel and a bargain at $65 a night. We
thought the service here was superior to many four-
and five-star hotels in Shanghai.
The Seman Hotel (+86 (998) 2822147), a sprawling
complex that includes the former Russian consulate, is
the choice in Kashi. Expect to pay roughly $40 for a
Russian consulate double. The manager, Abdul, is a
fine source of information in the city,
Near Tian Chi, you can just show up and stay with
Kazakhs who offer lodging in their yurts. If you want
to reserve ahead of time, Mark Zhong (+86
13809939497), a local travel agent, can make
arrangements.
Resources: Lonely Planet China and Lonely Planet
Central Asia both have sections on Xinjiang province.
For a history of the Great Game and foreigners'
interaction with Xinjiang, try the books ``Foreign
Devils on the Silk Road'' or ``The Great Game: The
Struggle for Empire in Central Asia,'' both by Peter
Hopkirk.
Web sites:
• www.uygur.org, the East Turkistan Information
Center, focusing on Uyghur political issues; • http://homepages.utoledo.edu/nlight,
the site of a U.S. specialist in Uyghur culture
Tips
Dress and behavior: Though the Uyghurs are one of the
most liberal groups of Muslims in the world, and
Uyghur women often dress in brightly patterned
headscarves and sheer dresses, you should dress
relatively conservatively in Kashgar and other western
towns. Neither men nor women should wear shorts in
public, and women should not wear short skirts or
aggressively try to approach local men. Non-Muslim
visitors should not attempt to enter mosques during
prayer times.
Forbidden topics: Though you may find that Uyghurs you
interact with are willing to talk about their views on
China, do not question new acquaintances about
Xinjiang politics. Uyghurs have been arrested just for
talking about China's role in the province. However,
you can feel comfortable mentioning that you are
American, since the Uyghurs generally are extremely
pro-U.S.
Time zone: Although there is one official time zone in
China, Xinjiang is so far west of Beijing that locals
have their own informal ``Xinjiang time,'' two hours
behind Beijing. If you are making appointments or
booking transportation, be sure to inquire whether the
time is Beijing time or Xinjiang time.
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