Desert Trip ( part 2)

People are generally very nice and happy to help me. As a foreigner, I’m often being looked at or even stared at, even in Beijing sometimes but in the small towns it almost becomes a joke. Something they look at me like I’m coming out of UFO. In those cases, I make sure that it becomes a joke. I give them huge and exaggerated smiles with a hand wave which almost always makes them laugh and smile. It is most particularly the case with young Chinese girl who tend to be very shy. The slightest naughty look and they explode in laughers with their hand over their face trying in vain to hide their reaction. It’s hilarious! Sometimes, one of them, feeling a bit more adventurous, tries to convince her friends to go talk to the foreigner. So it is not rare that people approach me to ask me where I’m from, what am I doing in China, etc. … To travel alone like that helps me learn and practice my Chinese a lot. Normally I would tend to rely on my friends that can speak much better than me to deal with everything but this time it’s all up to me and that’s a good thing.

In fact, I’m not totally alone. While travelling you often meet new companions for the road. At the moment, I’m with Raymond, a Chinese guy that also landed at the farmer’s family a few days earlier. Together, we spend the entire day in the small town of Zhangye waiting for our train to Dunhuang. Once we arrive at destination, my Chinese comrade is much more in a hurry and even stressed, about visiting the area immediately than I am. So I let him go while I settle down at the hostel for an intensive internet session. After barely week without internet, my hands are almost shaking from the withdrawal. Ok well maybe I’m exaggerating a bit but still, I’m in dire need of emailing, chatting, facebooking, or simply of connecting. I thus busy myself at it for a few hours in the hostel’s beautifully decorated, Chinese style inner courtyard based literally at the foothill of some of China’s, if not of the world’s, highest sand dunes. I have reached my destination and it is quite impressive.

Later in the day, I leave to explore the nice little town of Dunhuang. People are nice and most importantly, a lot less disturbed about getting their picture taken than Beijingners. So I take full advantage of it. Towards the end of the day, I get an urge for some spicy chicken wings accompanied by a cold beer on a terrace. I find it all on a cute little slightly touristy looking street. The atmosphere and the owners are quite charming. I sit comfortably while people around take an amused look at me. I eat my wings with appetite until I ask about the price. Normally, for this kind of meal it’s not even worth asking about that since it’s so cheap. I have a slight jaw drop when I find out that they are at least 2 to 3 times what I was expected. Still not a fortune, mind you, but just by principle, I find that a bit much. I remind myself to try to appreciate my last bites nonetheless by telling myself to wait, to take my time and see what would happen.

While I’m sipping on my second, and most likely my last, big beer in front of my big empty table, when a group of 5 or 6 Chinese come in wondering where to seat. Feeling social, I invite them to sit with me but they go for the inside of the restaurant. A few minutes later, one of them comes back outside and sits with me. We try to have a chat and when I ask him what he does for work, he shows me his vehicle, a police SUV. He then invites me to join his friends, 2 other men and a woman, at his table. The guy immediately to my right can say a few English words so we talk a little while the other one keeps us downing shoots of beer. Here people most often serves themselves small glasses that they chug after saying: “Gan bei!”, the equivalent of “Cheers!” Beer bottles and chicken wing skewers just keep coming. We are all a little tipsy and my neighbour is barely able to contain his emotions while explaining me, being a Canadian, how every single Chinese person knows and praise Dr. Bethune (click for more details). The police man stays a bit in retreat but still tries to extirpate information out of me, things like, where am I staying and what’s my phone number. I only give extremely vague answers which is not difficult to do with my basic Mandarin level. Sometimes, it’s better not to understand… They explain me that he is the local “Ge ge” (brother) or “Da ge” (big brother). From what I heard since I been in China, this kind of character, most often government officials or police men that come in like royalty with their court of friends expecting to be well served free of charge, is quite common. In the West we would call that corruption but here, it seems to be almost normal. It’s only a question of making sure that everything runs smoothly in the right direction and to have good relations with people of influence. It attracts favours and keeps problems at bay… They call that having “Guanxi” and it is of a capital importance when it comes to making business in China. Normally I would find that most unacceptable but this I’m also raking the benefice since I am now also friend of the “Dage” my bill merges with his, so it’s all free. I finish the evening very happily meandering the streets of Dunhuang a little tipsy.
Evidently, this town capitalises on tourism. The prices clearly reflect that. I’m still lucky that it’s low season for another few weeks; otherwise some things would go up if not double in price. There’s even an entrance fee to see the desert. To be honest, there’s also some sort of temple board by a moon crescent lake nearby. Still, I find that a bit exaggerated since all I’m really interested to see is the desert itself, not that temple. So I take on to go climb a dude beyond the fenced off area. Climbing sand dunes is not complicated but not breezy either. You make 3 steps and come down 2… Nonetheless, I’m happy to be here. Once on top of the dune, I can even see in the temple that I’m not supposed to see since I didn’t pay. The wind blows more and more sand and the setting sun gradually disappears.

On the way back, I come across several famers diving their motorcycle and followed by caravans of camels. They are going back home after a day’s work at the touristy area. I stop at a farm to take some photos and we start negotiating for an overnight camel trip in the desert. The hostel I’m staying at also offers that trip but there again, it’s a bit too pricy. We leave it at that for now with the hope that the weather and visibility a t some point in the few days will allow for a beautiful sunset.

The youth hostel, although quite charming, stays rather empty during the first few days and until three other travellers: a French, a German and a Colombian, make their appearance. Together, we go pay a visit to the famous Mogao Caves. The entrance fee was a bit much and our guide very ordinary so let’s move on…

Now that we are four, we have a bit more leverage to negotiate a better rate with the farmer and camel owner. It’s not easy but we finally agree on a price and everybody is happy. The first moments riding the camels certainly make a strong impression. They are big animals and when they decide to freak out, you better hold on tight… So much so that after a little while, 2 of us, the 2 Europeans not to name them… ;-) decide without regrets to make the rest of the way on foot. We end up not having enough time to get really far since we encounter a few glitches. The ATV supposedly breaks down before we even get out of the village. One of the camels is not in a cooperative mind set. So much so, that he makes it clearly known to our guide by regurgitating his last meal onto his arms and shoulders. All of that aside, the experience is well worth it. Well, maybe not for the guide but we have fun. After a very basic meal composed and crackers and cookies bought at the last minute, we set off to climb one of the dunes in total darkness. Barefoot in the fine sand, warm wind blows, it’s nirvana…

The next day, after a short camel ride back to the farm, we pay our dues to our guide and head out to town. It is our last day in Dunhuang. We are set to leave town several hours later so we start with a dumplings (baozi) and beer breakfast. I have so much time on my hands that I decide to go back to the train ticket office to see if I could switch for an earlier train. At the counter there’s a few Chinese men trying to buy tickets. There are in fact train tickets agents and are all squished up the window and could not care less about lining up. They nonetheless let me talk to the lady and even help me organise everything. We talk and make jokes and get friendly. So much so that the most mafia looking of them wants to take me to the local whore house. I thankfully decline the offer laughing my ass off.
Once that’s all settled, I head back to meet the others in a coffee place where we spend most of the afternoon waiting for departure. While we wait, an intense sand storm, the likes of which I had never seen, suddenly breaks out all over town. We can barely see 30 or 40 meters in front of us. It’s amazingly dense and intense. Apparently, this desert city sees sand storms of this magnitude only 3 to 4 times a year.
I have to share a cab to a nearby small town to catch my train back to Beijing. There again the sand storm rages and the visibility is so bad that it reminds me snow storms from back home. After a few hours spent in a super cheap hotel I finally embark on my train for the last stretch. The train ride is long and uneventful. Home sweet home back in Beijing, but not for long…