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Friday 2004-06-25 - Torugart Pass, Kyrgyzstan
Wildlife
We’re leaving at eight for the border crossing over the Torugart Pass - “Much too late” I’m thinking to myself and alas I turn out to be right. First we go back along the 15 km track to the ‘main’ road to China which we follow farther up. The road is very bad, even for an all-weather road, but most traffic here consists only of trucks transporting old iron to China (another export ‘product’ of Kyrgyzstan of which they have plenty with all the factories that were closed after independence while China is eager for it for its growing industry). The rest of the traffic consists of tourists, of course, and precious little else.
In the valley near Tash Rabat I noticed one of the mountains was riddled with holes; nests of ground squirrels, I suspect, but I didn’t see any there. However back on the main road I do see many ground squirrels, mostly sunning themselves on the mounds of sand next to their burrows, not paying much attention to our passing truck. There are two kinds of them here, one a lot bigger than the other — I see a lot less of the smaller ones, but maybe they’re just more shy. I suspect these are the same species that live on the high plains between China and Pakistan but I don’t know the names of these species (yet).
Because of the bad condition of the road it takes us a long time to reach the passport check before the actual Kirghiz border; we finally reach the main building at 11:45 — the border closes at noon! Border formalities at the Kyrgyzstan border post are simple and quick though - seemingly smoother each year. The truck is allowed to take us right up to the pathetic little pillar now marking the border, replacing the original monumental gate building at 3752 m. The landmark gate was taken down by the Chinese a few years ago when they claimed another 7.5 m of territory — a move not so good for international tourism. We say goodbye to our team; on the other side of the gate our Chinese bus is already waiting for us (well, we’re late: it must have been here more than an hour already).
Friday 2004-06-25 - Kashgar, Xinjiang (China)
Into Xinjiang
After the actual border crossing on the Kirghiz side, it’s a long trip to the building of the Chinese border post — at first over a bad road, alongside it pieces of old iron that have fallen off the truck exporting it to China: enough to fill another truck. Then into a new river valley, a much better road here; the mountains on each side are mostly bare but along the river bed there’s some greenery and we see some (ethnic) Kirghiz nomads grazing their herds here; the bus sometimes has to stop for a large herd roaming all over the road. Later, we see more agriculture, and Uyghur houses shaded by rows of poplars.
Before the actual border post there’s a small building where the quarantine office is housed now; the questionnaire has a question about SARS, and our temperature is taken (with a kind of hand-held scanner). But since we left late by now we’re late here, too; two trucks are before us, with a load of carpets an other stuff that all has to go through the (single) scanner first. When it’s finally our turn, I’m asked if I have any books (of course!); I then have to open my bag to show them — I take out only my travel guides and decide not to show my old Hebrew book just yet, not knowing what they’re looking for. The officer is probably just curious (but officially looking for subversive materials?): he’s trying to figure out what the books are about, looking through each for maps; it’s obvious he cannot actually read any English; he even walks away with my books into an office: I’m getting worried I might have to leave them behind. After a long time, it’s declared “OK” and I can put my books back. Phew! Ouside there are money changers, but we ignore them; we must move on.
When we finally get into Kashgar, it’s late — and we find that not only the banks are closed but since a year hotels apparently no longer are allowed to change money either. So there we are without any local currency. We’re allowed to have dinner at John’s Cafe (now moved to a building on the Seman Hotel’s grounds) at credit, giving our room number: we can pay tomorrow, when we can get money. Well, I hope … tomorrow is Saturday: will the bank even be open? But we can’t really do anything but have dinner on credit tonight. We’re effectively grounded — forget about going into town. I’m not in my best mood now.
