Urumqi- pronounced as oo-roo-moo-chi.
It took my colleague and I twelve hours to travel to Urumqi. The overnight flight to Beijing was smooth and I even managed to squeeze a couple of hours of sleep in-flight.
The Beijing airport is big, poorly sign-posted and staffed by people who answer with grunts and annoyed voices. We nearly couldn't figure out that the China Southern airlines flew off from a separate terminal located quite a long walk away. It was a good thing we did not have much luggage.
Our flight was to depart at 9.20 am. There is a flight out almost every hour, yet our flight was full. My colleague was saying that our tickets were bought at an exorbitant rate, for the S$1000 we could have travelled to Hong Kong twice. Local passengers apparently pay about 80% less. The other surprise was the airplane- it was very small, and packed so tight I now fully emphathise with the canned sardine.
I chose the beef rice for lunch, very unappetizing it was. It came with a standard box of ham potato salad, stale roll, watermelon wedge and what I call Vicky Chao cookies because her photo adorns the packaging. The cookies were the nicest thing in the box, and that is saying a lot. So, the flight continued in the same unpleasant fashion, don't know why but the passengers kept changing seats, hacking and coughing without covering their mouths, and, going endlessly to the loo- with the last observation in mind I declined all the attendants' offering of beverages.
Finally, the three odd hours in the cramped and stuffy cabin came to an end. The view from the window was beautiful, from what little I could observe from my aisle seat. The dunes and sand of the Gobi Desert gives way to neat plots of agriculture. The sky was startlingly blue and the temperature blazingly hot at 33 degrees C when we touched down. The relative lack of industrialisation means the air here is less polluted, i.e. the insides of my nose doesn't turn black so quickly, than the cities along the coastal east.
The Yin Du Hotel staff met us at the airport and within 20 minutes we were checked in. Rooms are spacious and comfortable, mine has an ugly view of the back of a hospital and an energy tower. We changed out of our travel clothes and explored the city a little.
The concierge suggested The Grand Bazaar, where there are on sale arts, crafts, medicinal and fashion items of the minority races like Uighur and Kazak. The place felt very touristy but today there isn't many tourists around. We did feel as if we were in a country other than China though, e.g. Turkey, because there are very few Han Chinese around. The Chinese Muslims have caucasion features like more sculpted cheekbones and deep set eyes. The men sport moustaches and the women wear long dresses and either cover their hair or secure them with sparkly hair accessories. They also speak Mandarin with a distinct musical lilt, like how an Westerner would speak it. Most stallholders are very friendly and not as persistent or obnoxious as their Han counterparts.
Raisins come in all colours, shape and tastes. I bought some to snack on, eating some as I am typing this entry.
I was dying to try some Hami melon but my colleague reminded me it was probably not a good idea. Well, if the hotel does not serve it at breakfast tomorrow, I will buy a whacking big melon and a knive and hold a melon party in my room.
It was really hot and we were melting faster than the Turkish-style ice creams sold here. Colleague suggested an early dinner. She randomly chose a place and I followed, but not before taking pictures of the mutton breads and the friendly outdoor cooks.
The restaurant has a highly decorated look, a bit granny-like but thankfully not in the least tacky. The staff happened to be eating their dinner.
Other than the delicious mutton bread, which was studded with loads of juicy mutton and caramelised onions, the waitress suggested the house special (left)- a combination of mutton stirfried with cumin and other spices, and dried fruits tossed in a (highly redundant) sweet coating. The mutton was tasty alright, but the amount was too generous we hardly made a dent in the pile. The waitress delivered 5 skewers of grilled mutton to our table by mistake but we didn't realise that it wasn't what we ordered and ate about two sticks. Washed down all that meat with the rose-infused tea, and a side order of bottled pomegranate juice. The pomegranate juice was not too sweet, and its mild tartness was really refreshing.
Like the rest of the country, the people here do not let anything go to waste. Steamed goat lungs and rice-stuffed intestines anyone?
