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Sunday 2004-05-09 - Damascus, Syria
Relaxing in the mosque
After a nice breakfast in the hotel we (two travel mates and me) first walk to Martyr’s Square where there is a money changer’s office — which turns out to be closed. We decide to go to the old city first, after the “advance” we got last night we still have enough cash for a drink and entrance into the Mosque. When we cross the street, a young man coming from the other side nods at us, and says: “Welcome!” — a nice sign of how friendly people are here in Damascus.
The old town isn’t far, and we get in at the Souk entrance; the Souk al-Hamidiyeh reminds me of the big bazaar in Istanbul, with its high vaulted streets, and endless shops along them. When we get out at the other end, skipping all the side streets for now, we see the Umayadd Mosque before us, through remnants of what looks like an old Greek temple, Greek architecture, anyway. Entrance to the Mosque is 50 Syrian pounds, and us women get a hooded robe (freshly washed and ironed) loaned to us for free. We visit the shrine first; people get very emotional there, moan, and even cry. We see some drying their tears when they get out, and whole families sitting together on the floor in the front room, eating apples, chatting, relaxing.
When we get to the mosque proper, we find same relaxed atmosphere. The inner plaza is very big, beautiful with lots of marble, and at various places people sit around, resting and enjoying the place. Inside the prayer hall this continues. Everyone mixes (no strict separation between men and women here, families sit together). Near the shrine of Prophet Yahia (St. John the Baptist) a group of women sit together, listening to what a mullah is telling them. A woman walks round and hands out sugared almonds (delicious!); some people try to chat with us. We end up staying here a long time, a wonderful experience. We see many other interesting things today but this is definitely the best.
Everywhere, people are very friendly and helpful. We all agree: this is a very, very nice city to be in — and one to come back to. And a great city to start our 65-day trip across Asia from.
Wednesday 2004-05-19 - Mardin, Turkey
Early Christian history
Our final destination for today is Mardin but to get there we have to go back to Şanlıurfa first: there is no other road. Once on our way out of Urfa again, the landscape gets gradually greener and after riding through the beautiful valleys we arrive at Mardin, an old city built hugging a mountain side. It’s now a little after 2 in the afternoon, and we have somewhat empty stomachs. Asking around for directions, we find out that our hotel is not in the city at all, but in Kızıltepe, 20km back! If we go there first, we won’t have time for our goals in Mardin, so we decide to do the tour before going to the hotel - and skip lunch.
That was a lucky decision: when (after quite a bit of searching through the confusing narrow streets of the city — all curving to follow the contours of the mountain) we arrive at the Antioch Syrian Orthodox monastery outside of the city at 3:10, we find it closes at 3:30! The monastery (Deynulzaferan) built like a fortress on the top of a mountain is interesting, but we cannot even see all of it any more — and the place is packed with day trippers: unfortunately we picked a holiday to arrive late… Still, we do get at least an impression: enough to want to spend more time on exploring this interesting complex and its history if we ever get back.
From there we go to the Antioch Syrian Orthodox church in the center of Mardin. Here a priest who speaks passable English gives us a nice lecture about the early history of Christianity and and all its different branches. The Antioch Syrian Orthodox and Alexandrian Orthodox churches were early branches, like the two Catholic ones, one of which became the Roman Catholic Church, the other Greek Orthodox. The Armenian Orthodox church (of which we visited a small church in Damascus) is a later branch off of the Syrian orthodox church. I hope I got all that right… The church building itself is very nice — and old — with many paintings, icons and embroidery, some of it obviously made by children of the community. The effect is almost homely.
Saturday 2004-05-22 - Akdamar, Turkey
Church on an island
Van is a big city but (apart from a museum that’s said to be nice) not very interesting in itself. Instead, we go to the island Akdamar in the Lake of Van. We’ve decided not to take the (expensive) official tour but arrange our own. With our own bus we drive back along the east and south side of the lake, with again a spectacular view of the green-blue lake with snow-capped mountain ranges all around. Where the ferry boats leave for the island, our tour companion arranges with the boat owner that he will take us there, make a circle all around the island, then give us three hours to spend there. We’ve taken along food for a picnic lunch, bought before we left.
Our main goal is the old Holy Cross church built on the island, dating back to the 10th century. There are beautiful reliefs on all the walls; inside there are still some fresco fragments, mostly blues but hard to discern what the scenes are. Around the church is also a number of grave stones, most half-toppled, some also finely decorated with reliefs.
The island has two tops; I skip the high one to spare my painful knees the steep climb but go with Vera to the lower one on the south-east side. From there you can still overlook almost all the island, and I attempt to make a panorama photograph — a bit hard to do balancing on the rocks… no idea how this will come out. The island is covered with many types of flowers, different kinds of lillies and hyacinths, wild onions, beautiful euphorbias, many species I don’t recognize. I take a lot of pictures! After our picnic lunch we return to Van, where I decide to spend the remainder of the afternoon writing.
After our extensive lunch on the island we’re not terribly hungry so in the evening we head back to the ‘soup salon’ for a light meal, where we find most of the group also enjoying their delicious soup! After dinner it’s back to the Internet cafe in Van (there’s one conveniently right next to our hotel) to catch up with my travel blog!
Monday 2004-05-24 - Tabriz, Iran
The ladies are having fun!
We’re getting our first culture shock tonight. Since the hotel is some way outside the center of Tabriz, all twelve of us take the city bus into town to find dinner there: the bus stop is right in front of the hotel. When I tell our guide Showān that we’re going into town by bus, he’s really shocked: We can’t just do that, we might get lost, and he’s responsible for us! Well, I explain, we can just do that, we do it all the time; and we’re responsible for ourselves. When we leave, he can’t stop us, of course — but he looks decidedly unhappy.
We find that in the city buses men and women are strictly separated: women ride in the back. (There’s no such separation on long-distance busses, by the way.) The result is surprisingly positive for us ladies: we immediately have contact, many especially younger women speak some English and start chatting with us, all the while translating for the older ones. The atmosphere is a cozy one of women among each other. Also watching women in other city buses, we observe the same, we’re not just lucky in our bus: they’re chatting and laughing together — in the men’s section there’s no such atmosphere. It’s fun to ride in the back of the bus!
Wednesday 2004-05-26 - Bonāb, Iran
Delay turns out to be our luck
When we finally arrive in Bonāb, to have a look at the old mosque there, our delay turns out to have been very lucky. Normally non-muslims aren’t allowed to enter this mosque, but at the moment we arrive a service is starting; a prayer service, we think. And when Jan takes a peek through the door, he’s invited in; then to our surprise then our whole group, still standing outside, are invited in. It turns out to be a funeral service. We’re allowed to sit at the side, and can watch the proceedings. One older man and his son are standing at the door - obviously the bereaved. Several young men, all dressed in black trousers and a black shirt, go round with water to spray or pour on the hands of the guests, then tea is brought, sugar, and delicious dates. Little plastic baskets stand all around on the floor for the date pips. Continuously, men come in (we see no women), sit down quietly and get served tea, then pray, and take their leave again, only then saying a few words to the bereaved at the door. Everyone sits on the floor, except a few older men who are sitting on chairs along the wall, near the mullah. And all the while the mullah is praying (it’s almost singing), sometimes answered by some of the men — it’s beautiful to listen to.
The mosque itself is superb, small and simple but with a unique wooden ceiling resting on wooden pillars; the flat ceiling is constructed and painted in a way that’s found nowhere else. So thanks to our delays we get not only a unique chance to watch the inside of this unique mosque, but at the same time experience how a funeral service is conducted. It’s one of those precious experiences that are rare even on a trip like this.
It’s very late and fully dark when via a winding road through the mountains we finally arrive at Takāb.
Friday 2004-05-28 - Sanandaj, Iran
“You are more precious than my eyes”
We head for the mosque first, of which we had a glimpse when we walked through Sanandaj last night to watch the people shopping: the streets were busy on a Thursday evening. But today it’s Friday so naturally most stores are closed and it’s very quiet. Behind the old mosque a new prayer hall is being built; Carla and I aren’t allowed in there (Thom tells us later it’s very beautiful), so the two of us head for the women’s prayer hall to the side. Since it’s Friday, prayers are in progress — one woman praying aloud for a group, all in a row closely together. Normally non-muslims aren’t allowed in during prayers but we’re welcomed warmly all the same: we’re waved in, smiled at, and several women bring one or two hands to their eyes: a symbolic greeting we later find out means something like “you are more precious than my eyes.” We sit down at the side for a while, and watch and listen to the proceedings quietly. After a while, one of the women spots Thom waiting outside and points to him; after we take our leave, several women even wave us goodbye from behind the windows.
Sunday 2004-05-30 - Qom, Iran
Shrine of Fatima
Through a beautiful landscape of rounded mountains with wide, fertile plains and valleys in-between and snow-capped mountains far to the south, we ride to Qom, a holy city for Shi’ite Muslims. Surprisingly, there are very few trees in this fertile area; the ones we see are clearly planted: some poplars (construction wood), and orchards with nuts and fruit trees. After we pass Arāk the landscape changes and becomes less fertile but now there are more trees — strange.
In Qom we stop to visit the Hazrat-e Masumeh complex: a very large complex around the holy shrine of Fatima (Fatima al-Masumeh, sister of Emām Reza (789-816AD), who died and was buried here in 816 AD. The first buildings date back to the Safavid era, started in the early 17th century under Shah Abbas I (1587-1629) and extended during later rulers. The complex comprises a large mosque with three inner courtyards, each in its own style, and many other buildings, most dating back to the 17th century but new ones are still being added.
Usually non-Muslims aren’t allowed in, and all women have to wear a chador but we’re very lucky today: our guide Showān manages to arrange that we’re allowed in anyway and (after a short inspection of us ladies to see if we’re decently clothed, which we are!) even without a chador. To promote international relationships, we’re received in the office of the Mullah, an obviously very intelligent and sympathetic man who welcomes us warmly, tells us something about the complex (we all get a picture and a brochure as well), asks some questions of us (like what’s the most surprising or new thing we’ve seen in Iran — veiled women —, what made us decide to visit Iran, etc.) and invites us to ask questions of our own. The complex is being restored at the moment, and he tells us it will take several more years to complete; when I remark that I hope to once come back to Iran and see it again in its full glory, he answers he wishes that for me, too. If we make a wish here, he says, no matter if we are Muslim or not, the wish will come true. He answers our questions subtly and politely; clearly a deeply religious man without being extremist — a man who commands respect.
Part of the complex is a school where people from all over the world come to study to become a mullah: a basic study of 6 years, and another 10 years to become fully qualified (10 years in all if you study very, very hard); there are 92,000 students per year, 18,000 of them from foreign countries, including from Europe. Also part of the complex is a kitchen, normally catering to the personnel but on Wednesday and Friday evenings food is distributed to the poor; there’s a small hospital as well for those who are sick and clearly too poor to pay for medical help.
After the visit to the Mullah, we’re allowed to walk around for 20 minutes in the courtyards (but not enter the buildings); from the third courtyard we can actually see a glimpse of the shrine though. Today is a special day — the anniversary of the death of Fatima, I think — and we see Pilgrims from many countries, Arabs and Pakistani clearly recognizable by their clothes, Shi’ites pounding their breast as a sign of mourning. I feel really privileged to be allowed to witness all this and experience the deeply religious atmosphere — something we have mostly lost in the Western world. I won’t be able to share my photographs though: they’re all just pictures in my head since (understandably) photography is not allowed here.
Sunday 2004-06-06 - Shirāz, Iran
Religious education
After the mosque we want to visit the Madrasseh-e Khan, which we find only with the help of some Shirāz locals (it’s also in the easy-to-get-lost-in bazaar, and the map in the Lonely Planet is useless — as they are for many bazaars). Normally the public isn’t let in in this Madrassa since this is a functional religious school but after a chat with a nice young Mullah at the entrance we just walk in and aren’t stopped.
Young men sit around with study books, and at the end of the courtyard is an open hall where many Mullahs sit together in a circle for a group discussion. The tile work of the building, almost baroque in style with its many floral patterns, is superb and because here it’s all from the same (Safavid) period, forms a more balanced whole than that in the Vakil mosque. The courtyard is a beautiful space, too, with a small central pond and many shade trees and orange trees and flowers: a very pleasant place to study!
Another funeral service
In the afternoon Carla and I cross the river over an old bridge; the river is nearly dry most of the year, flowing through Shirāz and ending in Lake Mahārlu. It’s nearly dry now, but looking at the high walls along the river it must hold a lot of water at times. Just across the bridge is a small mosque with a beautiful dome in the shape of a tulip bulb, covered with intricate tile work. Of the mosque itself (Emāmzādeh-ye Ali Ibn-e Hamze) virtually all of the original 10th century structure has disappeared as a result of both earthquakes and successive repairs and additions but the nicely spaced forecourt is different in that it’s almost completely paved with old gravestones, some very beautiful — we’ve never seen this anywhere else.
As we’ve learned to recognize in Bonāb, a funeral service is obviously in progress as we enter the courtyard - with a difference: the women take part here as well, and we’re invited into the women’s room. It’s quite crowded there, and we hardly find a place to sit without sitting in front of others. Inside, the ceiling is completely covered with small mirrors, giving a dazzling effect. Similar to the funeral service at Bonāb, refreshments are served; here we get dates (filled with nuts and covered in coconut) and lemonade. We’re quite welcome, but leave soon since we’re obviously physically in the way in the crowded space.
Friday 2004-06-11 - Mashhad, Iran
Hajj
On arrival in Mashhad, one of the three holy cities of Iran, it suddenly becomes clear why we couldn’t get a direct flight here: Everything must have been solidly booked because it’s ‘Hajj time’ — there are many, many pilgrims already here and more arriving; many families are camping out everywhere in the open in the parks, with nothing but a blanket, sometimes a little gas burner to make tea or cook some food. Our bus at the parking lot before the airport is blocked, there are so many cars; some have to be literally shoved aside before we can leave for our hotel.
Saturday 2004-06-12 - Iran, Iran
Iran observations
Many of the things we see and experience in Iran are not specific to any locality but remarkable enough, I think, to make a note of. So, at the end of our trip through Iran here are some of the things I noted along the way and wanted to tell you about:
- Infrastructure
- Immediately after crossing the border from Turkey the change is apparent: infrastructure here is much better developed than in (Eastern) Turkey. Power and phone lines (above-ground) are well-maintained (we see not a single sagging pole). Roads are generally in good repair, not just being well-maintained but constantly improved as well: we see road works in many places, often to turn the (still) mostly two-lane roads into four-lane or even wider highways. There’s also Internet access in many places (far more than I expected) with no apparent restrictions.
- Traffic
- A big surprise is that many road signs are bilingual: not just the directional signs pointing to cities with the name in Farsi as well as a transliteration in roman script; we also see signs like: “reduce speed,” “use low gear” (on mountain roads), “fasten seat belts,” etc. Along some roads also a nice illustration that this mostly hot and dry country (as we experience it now) can also be very cold in winter: we see many road signs warning graphically that snow chains may be needed. Also remarkable is that in many cities, as well as at checkpoints, road bumps are used to slow traffic down; most are of a standardized design so it’s rather easy to learn how to negotiate them (unlike the confusing variety of road bumps we have in the Netherlands).
- Motorbikes
- Motorbikes of all sorts are extremely popular here, and not just with the young ones. One can see whole families on a motorbike: father riding, child in front, mum behind, a small child between them, and an older child at the back. Almost no one wears a helmet - I expect it’s only a matter of time before they become compulsory though, given the obvious growth rate of the number of bikes…
- Energy
- This country has a lot of oil and natural gas - and yet we see many signs of energy being saved. In some hotel rooms we had a fridge, nearly always of an energy-efficient type. Most light bulbs (in use and on sale) are of the fluorescent type; there’s a dazzling variety of them. We even see gas lamps in many places - possible emergency lighting but they’re not antiques: they’re in obvious working condition, have been used, and in one place I saw them burning, too. They’re also extending their network of natural gas pipelines — not just for export but more use of their own gas is planned as well (it’s certainly more energy-efficient to use natural gas as a direct energy source than burning it to produce electricity).
- Iran-Iraq war
- During this war which lasted nearly ten years (1980-1988) there were very many casualties. Every village, town and city has their own martyrs of the war, who are commemorated with billboards with their portraits, usually placed at the entrance of a town. The many dead soldiers left behind many widows and orphans and collection boxes were set up all over the country for donations to support them; they still exist, but are now intended for helping the poor. The system works, since every Muslim is supposed to spend 5% of their income on helping the poor; the boxes form an efficient means to channel such donations.
- Greenery
- In a mostly dry country with two huge deserts it’s understandable that greenery and flowers are cherished. We see new trees being planted alongside many new or improved roads; in the cities roads are lined with trees, shrubs and flowers, well-watered. There are many well-maintained parks everywhere, with trees providing shade, used intensively for relaxation, picnicking, or study; especially at the end of a working day there’s always people sitting around on the grass.Some parks even have special paved circles for picnicking. There are flower shops and (small) garden centers as well, where fresh flowers and potted plants are sold, much like in the Netherlands. Iran’s national flower is the rose; rose leaves are sold on the market and rose water is used to flavor many dishes.
- Mecca
- In every hotel room (in fact, starting with the one just before the Iranian border in Turkey) there’s not just a prayer rug and clay tablet provided, but there’s always an arrow stuck on one of the walls helpfully indicating the direction of Mecca so the guest can adopt the correct orientation for praying. (We found a Koran in only one of the hotels rooms, however.)
- Water
- Everywhere in the cities there are public water tanks with drinking water, with one or a few taps, and usually with drinking cups (metal or plastic) on a chain or a string provided as well. They usually take the shape of a simple plastic or stainless-steel tank and are sometimes provided by shopkeepers, and often by the city; at times they have a quite elaborate wrought-iron fence around them. The contents are always tap water (quite safe and drinkable in Iran though sometimes with a faint chlorine taste), topped up during the day when necessary. Since it’s always hot in the cities during the summer, many people use these for a quick drink - a habit easy to take up (after getting used to the water, of course).
- Food and drink
- Many new taste experiences here, some of which I’ll try to ‘take
home’ (either by imitation if possible, or by trying to get them or the
necessary ingredients at one of the Iranian supermarkets in Amsterdam):
- Dūg
- A refreshing drink made of yogurt and water (still or sparkling). Sold in bottles as a fresh drink everywhere, sometimes fresh - the best: at one place we had a large 1.5 liter can which cost just 5000 IR: about 0.50 EUR. An acquired taste (most people in our group didn’t like it) but I’m going to try this at home! In principle, all you do is mix yogurt and water and let it stand in the fridge.
- Barley soup
- Based on chicken stock, some vegetables added (carrots and tomatoes are usually present but other vegetables can be used as well), thickened with barley. Many variations, but always delicious. A cup of barley soup and a small bottle of dūg make a healthy lunch; in fact this was what my first lunch in Iran consisted of.
- Faludeh
- The major discovery for someone like me who doesn’t like ice cream or someone who cannot eat any dairy products: a refreshing snack or a delicious desert after dinner. Consists of thin starch noodles (boiled till just soft), sugar syrup and rose water for a nice fragrance; our first had some poppy seed added for flavor. Served almost frozen. There are variations, such as using saffron instead of rose water for flavoring and a different fragrance, or fresh lime or bottled lime juice instead of poppy seeds; sometimes ice cream is added but you can always get it without - it’s definitely more refreshing that way. The starch noodles seem to be made from wheat, but you might try (broken) rice noodles for a good imitation.
- Iranian “beer”
- Alcohol is forbidden here (except for Armenians who are allowed to use it within their homes). You can still drink beer though: there are several brands of imported alcohol-free beer (really 0% alcohol), often from Germany or the Netherlands but I liked none of them. Much better for my palate was “Iranian beer” of which there are many variations and brands as well; it’s a lightly carbonated malt drink, often with some vitamins added, and hops for flavor. Not exactly an imitation of beer (and not really intended as such). Don’t think “beer” when you try it, just think “drink”; it turns out to be quite refreshing, because it’s not sweet like the ubiquitous Cola and Fanta imitations which make you thirsty again immediately due to their high sugar content.
Thursday 2004-06-17 - Shakhrisabz, Uzbekistan
Healing water
After a night of tossing and turning (I keep losing my ice bottle when I turn around) we have to get up early for breakfast at six: president Karimov will visit Bukhara with other leaders from the region (among them president Putin of Russia) and the city will soon be hermetically closed: we have to be out before that! Although our target today is Samarkand, we won’t go straight there but via Shakhrisabz, another city that was once on one of the branches of the old Silk Road where there are some nice historical sites. The two-and-a-half hours we get for lunch and site seeing is too short to see everything (especially at my current snail’s pace) but it’s worth while.
Together with Carla I go to one complex of mosques and tombs along the main road; when I was here three years ago. the buildings were closed while they were being restored and I could see only the outside; the restoration is finished now. The mosque (Ku’k Gumbaz Masjidi, built 1434-1435) is of a very special style: inside, there are only tiles on the lower walls, and above that all decoration on walls and ceilings is painted: mostly blue and white with gold accents (here and there replaced by yellow but the gold is real). The decorations are very refined and I’d never seen this style before. Across the beautiful courtyard are two tombs side-by-side; Gumbasi Saidon Maqbarasi, built in 1437, has the same type of decorations; the other tomb next to it is older (Shayx Sham Siddin Kulol Maqbarasi, 1373-1374) and has plain white walls. A friendly girl leads us around — not that she wants to be a guide or even earn anything: she studies philology but merely wants to practice her English a bit. One of the tomb stones in the Gumbasi Saidon mausoleum has a small depression in the top, highly polished by many hands since the water that’s standing in it is supposed to have healing qualities, she tells us. I take her at her word and put a few drops of it on my foot.
Behind this complex (where we also buy a few souvenirs at the stands in the courtyard) is another one, in rather worse repair but with a nice, shaded courtyard. A few men sit around in the shade; one of them, with a long white beard, deaf and nearly blind, is 120 years old, the others tell us. I can take a picture of him, he doesn’t mind; I doubt he’s really 120 years old (I doubt he quite understands my question), but he’s definitely very old. Then it’s time to (slowly, slowly) walk back to the bus.
Saturday 2004-06-26 - Kashgar, Xinjiang (China)
The largest mosque in Xinjiang
The center of Kashgar has turned into a huge construction area (the preceding destruction seems to be finished already). The main entrance of the Id Kah is closed while ‘renovating’ the square in front of it, but the mosque is still open. We locate a back entrance I hadn’t noticed before and find ourselves right at the wide, open prayer hall at the back of the large courtyard. Pillars and roof beams are made of wood, decorated with carving and painted in various bright colors; there’s some decoration on the walls as well. The whole of the huge courtyard is shaded by a mass of poplars also lining the ponds. As a result, it’s always cool and pleasant here, a spot to quietly sit and ponder the world and whatever upper being(s) you believe in. Now, it’s also like a peninsula of the old Kashgar in a sea of modernization. A spot to find your inner peace again, just sitting under the rustling poplar leaves.
Just when we sit down, a man approaches us and asks if we have a ticket — well, no, we entered at the back, there’s no ticket office there. We’ll buy one, of course. No problem, you can stay where you are, just give me the money (10 Yuan), he suggests, which we do. A little while later the friendly man comes walking back to bring us the tickets and tells us they’ll be closing in a few minutes. We ask and get permission to walk a little around the courtyard before actually leaving!
This mosque, with its huge poplar-shaded courtyard is not just unique: it’s also the largest mosque in all of Xinjiang; originally built in the 15th century, it was extended and renovated later. Also interesting is that (as I noted when I was here before) not only Uyghurs come here, but Hui (Muslim Chinese) as well. I’m glad this very special bit of Kashgar will at least remain.
Tuesday 2004-06-29 - Kuqa, Xinjiang (China)
Buddha caves - from the outside
A two-hour drive away from Kuqa are the Kizil Buddha cases; similar to the Thousand Buddha caves near Turpan (which I visited two years ago), but supposed to be more beautiful.
The road out there takes us through some really spectacular landscapes: the Tien Shan Mountains here consist mostly of layers of sediment only partially hardened into real stone. In some place, these layers are still perfectly horizontal and water erosion (!) has worn them into near-perfect pyramids — these formations are a protected landscape. Farther on, the layers have been pushed around and in one area are now nearly vertical: erosion here has worn away the softer layers, leaving near-vertical ‘walls’ of the harder stone; sometimes such a wall has toppled but many stand. After an hour of such impressive views from a fairly good road, we suddenly take a turn to the left onto a track which first takes us through a wide river bed and then on into the desert which looks like a flood plain (maybe there are flash floods here when it does rain?). Our driver actually gets off the bus to check the track (marked with a line of little flags) before turning into the side track. We’re vaguely worried: are we really heading into the right direction? When a taxi with one passenger overtakes us a little later, it seems we are; after another hour over rough tracks, half-finished roads and detours around road-building works we do indeed arrive at the site of the caves.
Another bus arrived just before us. At the gate, the ticket-selling lady waves us through but when we have climbed a lot of stairs and arrive at the first of the caves — all locked with a padlock — it turns out we do need to buy a ticket after all, as well as a guide to open all those locks for us. So down again we go, with my knees and my hurt foot screaming in protest: stairs are not good for me now!
So I pass: I’m not going to climb all those stairs again (and then lots more) and descend them again; these caves may be better than those near Turpan (the pictures I see later do suggest that) but at least I have seen something similar already. Instead, I take a nice quiet (and slow) stroll in the little wood at the foot of the mountain, where I spot two cuckoos who refuse to sit still for a photograph, and (at last!) make my first picture of the elusive flowering tamarisk bush (until now always only seen from a moving bus). Pity about the caves but I have a nice time anyway, and the landscape on the way here was worth the trip all by itself.
On the way back over the same tracks, half-finished roads and detours our driver suddenly stops. Photo stop? The landscape is beautiful. No — it turns out we have a very tire: no surprise really on these tracks covered with sharp stone fragments. Our driver is quick replacing the tire, obviously having done it before.
Monday 2004-07-05 - Dunhuang, China
World Heritage site
Today we have just time for a visit to the Mogao Caves, an enormous complex of 735 Buddhist caves, 492 of them with sculptures and murals (the remainder were bare, on purpose, and were intended for prayer and meditation), located in the Sanwei mountain. It’s only half an hour’s ride from Dunhuang. Entrance is (at the moment) 100¥ (Yuan), plus another 20¥ per person for an English-speaking guide; the site is well worth it.
Our guide, a nice young lady with a cheerful straw hat against the sun and armed with a parasol, speaks English quite well, but with a very heavy accent that takes some getting used to. The whole complex, comprising one face of the mountain, she tells us, originally had murals all along the outside but only a few fragments of this remain: the rest is weathered away. Also many of the (man-made) caves originally consisted of an entrance portal, with a short corridor leading into the inner chamber housing an altar with sculptures of Buddha, disciples and other attendants. Most of these entrance portals, guarded by huge sculptures of armed figures, have disappeared through natural causes as well — the stone of this mountain is quite soft. But otherwise the caves — protected from the elements unlike the murals outside — are in remarkably pristine condition, probably the finest example of such caves in China, and named a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.
Construction of the caves began in 366 AD during the Qin dynasty and lasted some 100 years. One reason for their excellent preservation is that the region was taken by the Tibetans in 781 AD so it escaped the persecution of Buddhists in China in the 9th century; another reason is probably that the complex was never completely deserted so later archaeologist treasure hunters could not so easily ‘save’ what they found here.
The style of the sculptures and paintings, even the oldest ones, is remarkably refined. Clearly the best artists that could be found were working here. It’s also interesting to see how many paintings have Persian or Indian stylistic elements: with Dunhuang an important location on the Silk Road, artists must have exchanged their skills along the road or even traveled along with caravans to see art work elsewhere.
There are a few quite strikingly large Buddha sculptures. The largest one, at more than 30 m high is not in the original condition: the original clothing was later adapted into a intricately decorated “emperor’s mantle”. Another one is 26 m high and yet completely contained inside a cave; as with the other large figures, the body was first hewn out of the rock, then covered with clothes made from straw-reinforced clay and painted. This one is in original condition. Most remarkable is that the head, itself 9 m high, is very large in proportion to the body: it’s actually designed so that when the sculpture is seen from below the head actually appears to be in the right proportion - a very early example of perspective correction!
Sunday 2005-09-25 - Linxia, China
Muslim country
We can’t stay on the nice new road; we turn off onto a secondary road which is narrower and a lot worse. We’ve left Lanzhou and urban China far behind us now. When we make a short photo stop for the landscape, our driver checks his tires and finds he has a flat inner tire. While he changes the tire (with the help of his wife) we have a photo opportunity with the children from a few farms nearby. We’re at N 35.63526, E 103.45063, at an elevation of 2300m already — we’ll get still higher today.
In Linxia we make a lunch stop at a small Muslim restaurant. We taste our first “Muslim tea” here: a mix of green tea leaves, various herbs and fruits and lots of big sugar crystals; it’s delicious and healthy! This is a specialty of this area of China. We also have a wonderful vegetarian noodle soup (with fresh hand-made noodles) and various vegetable dishes.
I hadn’t realized it before we left but this whole area of China is actually predominantly Muslim; Buddhism arrived here much later. Both groups live peacefully together though and mix easily, buying in each others’ shops, Buddhist monks even eating at Muslim restaurants (though not the other way round since the other restaurants are not halal). We see many mosques in a bewildering variety of architectural styles but all somehow a mix of Chinese and Arabic Islamic; a minaret may look like it does in the Middle East or it may look like a Chinese pagoda. The men mostly wear white skullcaps, sometimes beautifully embroidered; women wear a simple white hat, sometimes covered with a headdress of black velvet lace; a flap that normally goes below the face is sometimes flipped up over the head. In one town where we turn off again I see a sea of white-capped heads along the main street.
Along the roads now we see many brick works: they make bricks and roof tiles while smaller workshops make stone or cement decorations — the whole area seems to support the building industry, as is also suggested by some big billboards along the road. The road itself gets really bad now: they’re building a new road but for now it’s just kilometer after kilometer of construction area. We’re being thoroughly shaken: it’s a long and tiring trip this way.
Monday 2005-09-26 - Xiahe, China
Monks and prayer wheels
I decide to go walking around in the morning; first I go to the outside of Xiahe, along a road where I see no tourists at all, and then for a bit along the river from where I can get a nice view of a part of the Labrang monastery (Labuleng Si) complex. Apart from that and a dilapidated children’s playground which seems to be closed, there’s not much to see, so I turn back. I note a monk coming towards me, book in hand, softly mumbling, oblivious to his surroundings (including me): is he praying? When I pass him, I hear: “I have seven cousins.” (Of course, many monks are not only doing their religious duties but studying as well — including English…)
The rest of the morning I spend walking the famous Kora (the pilgrim’s circuit, also called Korla) all around the Labrang Monastery which is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa Buddhist order. The Kora is all of 3400m long and counts no less than 1176 prayer wheels. I do the whole circumambulation, taking in all the little temples, too, circling all in clockwise fashion as one should. The only thing I do not do is turn all of the prayer wheels — I note not all of the pilgrims here do that either: some simply skip every three or four of them. Other people walking the Kora either ignore me, concentrating on their prayers and turning the prayer wheels, or are very friendly and smile at me. Walking around with them, taking in all the sights and sounds, the groaning of the prayer wheels and the tinkling of the little bells driven by some of them, is almost like a meditation: I find myself very relaxed after my 1.5-hour walk.
Tuesday 2005-09-27 - Bajiao, China
Prayer wheels in Bajiao
After some two hours we turn right and come to Bajiao, but our driver goes straight on to the the Baishi monastery first, over what is now no more than a trail, with here and there big muddy pools which have to be carefully negotiated. Alas, at the monastery a service is just taking place so we can’t go into the temple, only walk around the buildings a bit. A monk comes out and offers to take us up to the canyon where there is an “open air cemetery” where bodies of the deceased are laid out for the vultures according to an old religious practice. But it’s a long, steep climb — the alternative is to walk back along the trail to Bajiao and spend some time looking around the old town.
Carla, Gwendoline and I don’t feel like a lot of climbing or waiting around for the service to end (possibly for hours) so we set out to walk back along the trail. Just when we sit down at a nice spot to enjoy our packed lunch, the sun finally comes out, making the landscape looking a lot less bleak: it’s actually very beautiful now. Lunch break included, it takes us two hours to get back to Bajiao.
Bajiao is a town of historical interest, completely surrounded by a mud-brick wall of over 2000 years old which has 8 corners — a bit like a citadel except it’s not located on top of a height. Only here, in on spot in the lee of the wall are some trees: poplars, obviously grown for building wood. All the houses inside the wall (much newer than the walls itself but all traditionally built) have a yard surrounded by mud-brick walls, with piles of hay and straw in sometimes ingenious constructions to keep it off the ground; here, too, people are busily harvesting. Pigs are running around the street (which doubles as a little stream flowing through the town) but they’re not too keen on us strangers.
The town is very nice, with visual surprises around every corner because of all the walls. Admission to the town is 8Ұ, spent on nice things for the community. The people are very friendly though, don’t mind us at all while we walk around and peer over walls.
Somewhere we spot some wind-driven prayer wheels on top of a roof and we go find them: we find a small temple, surrounded by a wall; the door is locked though. Soon the caretaker spots us and comes with a key to unlock the door for us: inside is a tiny courtyard full of flowers and a small incense vat. The temple itself is tiny, too, housing a little altar before two big prayer wheels — with a difference: instead of being turned by handles on the bottom like most prayer wheels, these are driven by an ingenious construction with ropes. The caretaker demonstrates: one never has to step inside, simple giving a tug on the two ropes is enough to turn the big wheels which in turn sound a number of small bells. It’s a very nice, intimate and peaceful place — a wonderful experience. We leave a little donation on the altar and thank the caretaker, who locks the door behind us again.
Near a little shop we can observe a modern way of cooking close up: many people in this area of China have a parabolic mirror in their yard (we saw them at monasteries as well); it’s covered with little mirrors and at the focal point is a metal loop on which one can place a kettle or pan to boil water or cook something: free energy as long as the sun is shining, and very useful in an area with almost no trees.
Wednesday 2005-09-28 - Xunhua, China
A bit of Central Asia
On our long trip to Ta’ersi we stop in Xunhua for lunch in a Muslim restaurant. The lunch is a wonderful meal, with Muslim tea, and many different dishes with mutton and chicken, vegetable dishes, and very nice local bread. Our host (we later find out his English name is Andy) also brings some apples, and tells us they’re from the family’s own apple tree, freshly harvested. Every family has one or more fruit trees in their yard, he explains.
Then he tells us about Xunhua: there are about 10,000 inhabitants here, most of them Muslims of a Turkic people who still speak their own language called Tala. Alas, the language is set to disappear: while older people speak it fluently and every day, younger people are already speaking a mix of Tala and some Chinese, in a much simpler form. At school they learn Chines, at the Koran school some Arabic, but there is no written form of Tala.
There is a famous legend about the origin of Xunhua and the people that live here.
During the great trek of Turkic peoples across Asia, this people were coming through here looking for a place to settle. Two men went looking for a good place, with a camel and a Koran, praying to God for guidance. One evening, the camel disappeared; the walked around looking for it until it was dark but still couldn’t find it so they went to sleep. The next morning they went looking again and found the camel — turned into stone, with the Koran sitting on its back — near a spring; this they took as a sign of God that this was a good place to settle.
Of course, the spring still exists, and our host Andy (who speaks excellent English and is also an official tour guide) offers to take us to the Camel Spring. We have time enough,m so we take him up on his offer. The spring water, coming from the mouth of a stone camel head, is somewhat salty and supposed to have healing properties; behind that there’s an enclosure (Andy’s father comes along to unlock the gate for us) with a nice pond and trees and flowers all around. One special type of plant grows here, and nowhere else, Andy tells us. The other flowers were planted by the Chinese who wanted to make a tourist attraction out of this spot — successfully resisted so far by the local Muslims. At the other end of the pond sits a stone camel (the stone camel) but it is much smaller than life-size. There’s another legend about that: each year the camel seems to shrink a little.
Next, Andy takes us to the Camel Spring Mosque, the 2nd largest mosque of the province, which can hold 1,500 people. We’re not allowed into the mosque proper but can have a look into the wash room, where the same camel spring water flows through. Two groups of Muslims use the mosque together: Shiites and Sunnites — the Imam is Shiite — each group prays on their own side of the mosque though. Women are not allowed in the Mosque here, they pray at home. Across the street they’re building a new much larger mosque which will hold 2,000 people.
Andy also tells us that most families here, traditionally very big, now have an average of four children — simply ignoring government regulations. Families used to be a lot larger than that: in his parents’ generation families had nine to twelve children.
Thursday 2005-09-29 - Ta’ersi, China
Temple industry
At Ta’ersi there’s another big monastery of the Gelugpa Buddhist order — the reason for our stay here. Together with Carla and Gwendoline I walk in the direction of the monastery; we note there is still surprisingly little tourism here — at least they’re not spoiled by it yet. There are many shops along this road, some clearly catering to tourists but also selling religious paraphernalia, obviously catering to the monastery and maybe visiting monks. All shop holders are very friendly, no one minds if you look and don’t buy, or simply remark something is beautiful without any intention to buy. No one is pushy or comes after you to sell something. But we see no other westerners in the whole town, only a few Chinese groups.
Along this street we also find a courtyard with some workshops around it where we can watch how the Buddhist temple ornaments are made; a whole set is already on display in the middle of the courtyard and the metal workers are busy making more. Later, in another street, we see many more such workshops; apparently the monastery is large enough to provide them with enough business.
Surprise in the Kumbum Jampaling
The monastery in Ta’ersi (called the Kumbum monastery or Kumbum Jampaling) is indeed very large. Obviously the Chinese are ‘developing’ it as a tourist attraction and a whole new entrance has been built — which we ignore since the old entrance (now side entrance) is simply at the end of the street: there’s an iron gate, half-closed with a chain, which everyone simply ducks under to enter.
At first we can’t find where to buy a ticket but when we try to enter a temple we’re stopped and pointed to the ticket office. Officially there are nine ‘sites’ to visit but it seems one is closed while some other buildings (like the Kumbum Old Monk’s Home) don’t require a ticket at all. Alas at most temples photography is not allowed — except of course when one monk in a nice jacket over his robes asks me to take his picture!
The whole complex is so huge (and the weather so unpleasant with a constant drizzle) that we give up on the idea of seeing each and every building. One highlight we visit is the Dharma Protector temple where on the second floor, around the courtyard, a range of stuffed animals is looking down on us over the railing: a bear, a deer, a yak, etc.: animals that are also frequently pictured in Buddhist paintings.
Another interesting temple is the Kalachakra Mandala temple: while the outside of the temple building is square, the inside floor plan is laid out in the form of a Mandala, with a large circle within the square of the walls and inside that other squares and circles within each other, forming a three-dimensional mandala. Just inside the large circle (which I understand symbolizes the wheel of time) is a text made of individual Tibetan characters standing up, painted in different bright colors and interspersed with small statues of mythical animals. I’m half expecting the row of characters to start marching round — the whole interior of this temple somehow reminds me of a planetarium and I actually look if there isn’t a mechanism there — but no, I see nothing: this wheel of time remains stationary. What is weird is that when you walk around in a clockwise direction (as required) you’re reading the text from right to left (if you can read Tibetan that is) but the Tibetan script is actually written left to right. I wish I could read the text here!
At a third temple (of which the name has escaped me) we find a real surprise: a little gold frame propped up on a Buddha statue holds a portrait of the Dalai Lama with the (unofficial) Tibetan flag as the background. Portraits of the Dalai Lama are strictly forbidden by the Chinese (as is the flag) — didn’t they notice this or are they getting a little more lenient?
After a late lunch at a Chinese restaurant (our dishes beautifully decorated with flowers folded from thin slices of a kind of radish) and a birthday party with a big Chinese birthday cake in one of the upstairs gambling rooms of the hotel, we board our bus again which takes us to Xining.
Friday 2006-09-08 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Museum monks
Right next to King Tongmyong’s tomb (and part of the World heritage site near P’yŏngyan) is the small Jongrung Temple, where prayers were said for the deceased king; we pay a visit to this as well. In this country, where any religion has been almost totally ruled out, it still feels strange, sterile even — not like a real, “living” monastery, even though six monks still live here: no lamps burn in front of the Buddha statues, and the distinctive aroma of burning incense is completely missing. I wonder, how are they practicing their religion and duties as monks then? The place feels more like a museum with the monks as caretakers.
When I ask the guide (through Miss Uni - the guide doesn’t speak English) how the monastery gets new novices, she tells us these monks can marry, and that their sons can succeed them. They’re also not required to shave their heads, whether to do that is their own choice. Now while I know that in some types of Buddhism monks can indeed marry, the idea of monks’ sons succeeding them sounds very strange to me: is this some strange sect or has this monastery been “reformed” by the government into something not really Buddhist any more?
Monday 2007-04-09 - Tarim, Yemen
The holy city of Hadramawt
Yemen’s religious aristocracy, the Sa’da, is based in Tarim; the city has countless mosques, and many domed tombs of important religious figures are found around the city. It seems that during the first period after the prophet Mohamed’s death, when many lost their faith, this was the only place in the Hadramawt where the people remained true to Islam.
On our way to Tarim we make a short stop at the tombs of holy Ahmad bin Assa and his son; situated right next to the road to Tarim, one tomb is only accessible though the mosque via 127 steps up the mountain. At the gate it says entrance is for Muslims only but we try our luck anyway; but talk as we may, we’re not let in. That said — that where we just ended up is Ahmad bin Assa’s tomb is something I (later) deduce from my travel guide; our intention was to visit the tomb of Sheikha Sultana, the first female scholar in Wadi Hadramawt; she was a Sufi, and — exceptionally for a Muslim woman — remained single (though Sufis were often celibate); people came from afar to seek her advice. After her death she was buried in a green-domed tomb, to be found one kilometer off the road along a track. But that’s not where we are… so we must be at Ahmad bin Assa’s tomb!
Our visit to Tarim itself starts with a visit to a museum: the Al Kaff Palace “Ish snaa” — it is an old palace of the Al Kaff family, until the revolution here the unofficial rulers in Tarim. They had become incredibly wealthy through trade with Indonesia, where many people from Wadi Hadramawt emigrated to and got wealthy there through clever trading. The Al Kaff family played an important role in the development of the area, financing the first road to the coast, the first schools in the wadi, etc. Sadly the house badly in need of restoration, but it is very interesting to roam around in an old rich house like this. Apart from some old photographs, a mirror and a broken lamp, there are no objects here; it’s the building itself that is on display. There’s a large variety of rooms, each with heir own decorations, beautiful carved wooden window frames with colored glass, a large bathroom, the kitchen, and a nice view from the roof. We spend quite some time looking around.
From there we walk to the city center through a winding street ending up at the market square, where the Sultan’s palace stands. Unfortunately it’s incredibly hot here, so much so that even I have trouble dealing with the 44°C even though the air is very dry. So when we arrive at the market most of us quickly dive into a little restaurant around the corner where it’s cool, to await the cars which will pick us up at the market place. More time, and a somewhat lower temperature would be needed to really enjoy Tarim.
Tuesday 2007-04-10 - Mashhad Ali, Yemen
Holy men of the Hadramawt
Near Tarim we already saw the tomb of Ahmad bin Assa and his son (from the outside). But there were many holy men in this area: it’s actually famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) for it. The point is that the concept of holy men, saints, or any intermediary between one person and God (Allah) is foreign to Islam. But in this area there were indeed holy men who did act as a kind of intermediary — as legends have it, some even after their death. So their tombs are considered holy places here, and draw pilgrims at certain times of the year.
Today we are going to see more of that: we are going to Wadi Do’an and to reach it we have to first drive all the way back from Wadi ’Adim to the main road from Sey’un to Al Mukalla, then turn off into Wadi Do’an: that’s because both these wadis are actually tributaries of the Wadi Hadramawt. On the way, we have lunch at the junction in Hawra’ again, this time downstairs; it may be coincidence, but the food tastes a lot better than last time when we ate upstairs in the tourists room.
A little south of Hawra’ we turn right into Wadi Do’an. In the first village we pass through, Mashhad Ali, our driver Khamal stops and shows us something special: “A chewing gum tree,” he says. Sure enough, the tree secretes some resin from the stem; you can pry it off and chew it. Marie Josee tries it and confirms it does taste like chewing gum. Then we note that the other cars have stopped a little farther on next to a small mosque, which Khamal thought was closed.
In fact, the mosque proper is closed (to us at least) but there is a room with four graves in it, and its door is open. More Hadramawt holy men lie buried here: The Sai’ed Ali bin Hassan, his two sons and his grandson. We are allowed to visit the tomb. Unfortunately, only one of the wooden shrines is uncovered, the others are wrapped in green cloth (possibly to protect them); the wood is decorated with simple but beautiful geometric carvings.
The tiny village of Mashhad Ali has become a pilgrim’s village; the number of houses is deceptive: most stand empty at this moment and serve only to house the pilgrims when they come. But these pilgrimages, and the reverence for these holy men is looked upon unfavorably by the Wahabites, another branch of Islam (and state religion in Saudi Arabia). In my guidebook I read that next to the tomb with the four shrines we could have a peek in, there’s another room with more graves, but their grave stones were demolished by Wahabites who condemn the reverence of these holy men.
