Tales of Kashgar: Weeping cyclops on the Silk Road

Going by my usual Central Asian experience, bazaars start early. So I set the alarm to 7 am Beijing time, which is what the whole country runs on, although no one is sure what the real time is. It's too early. Whilst there are many old guys with beards on donkey carts, nothing seems open. The animal market by the river is non-existent. Jason speaks some Chinese. We find out that the animal market is outside town. $2 taxi ride. The animal market isn't 'happening' either. A few sheep. A few stalls selling sheep-based dishes, with severed heads piled up outside.

We find a tuk-tuk (motorbike with trailer) and catch a ride back to the main market. It's more 'happening' than an hour prior. There's now some dogs and cats in cages by the river (too healthy-looking to be eaten). Still, it's an incredible anticlimax for what the LP calls 'the greatest market in Asia'. The Chinese authorities have built a huge 'modern' concrete structure in 'Uygur style' to house most of the stalls. Very un-atmospheric. We eat some disgusting plov, and decide to take a tuk-tuk back to the animal market. More 'happening' than before, but still lame compared to similar affairs in Kyrgyzstan. We find a bleeding sheep with it's head half-severed, I talk to an American Philosophy professor on a grant-funded trip, and I eat some icecream to get rid of the taste of the plov.

On the tuk-tuk back into town a bunch of middle aged Uygur women get on. One of them proceeds to grope my backpack, sending the rest of the hejab-ed crew into hysterics. Odd. Luckily none of the husbands are present to sever my head.

The outskirts of the big market are more interesting than the center, but more interesting still is the every-day bazaar inside the Uygur old town. This place is a shock - mudbrick houses, dirty kids, not a single Chinese. You walk 200m, and you are in China - big modern concrete structures, everything in Chinese (and Uygur underneath, as it's government policy of Kashi to be bilingually signed).

I start to feel sick. End up at the hotel. The cyclops breathes fire. Then it gently weeps. Jason (yes he is a nursing student): "Oh, so it's like an enema from within." Yes... 10 minutes later, I have a fever, and am shaking with chills. No energy to even go downstairs and buy some water. About an hour later I try the re-hydration salts, coal tablets and Mersyndol. 2 minutes later, I get projectile vomiting. Now, let me tell you, projectile vomiting into squat toilets is quite an art - one I haven't quite mastered yet. 1/3 ends up in the toilet, 1/3 ends up around the toilet, 1/3 ends up going back up my nose. But... I feel much better.

The following day I even make the effort of buying 5 bottles of yakult-like drink, 2 tubs of fruit jelly, and chips with pepsi at the local fast-food joint, "Best Food." Then back to bed for several hours. In the afternoon, I pop out for another bowl of chips, then go for a stroll around the moonlit streets and read Rumi.

Today we wake up and realise that we'd been robbed: both our phones and all of our souveneir money. How? Well, we'd left that in our room during the 2nd time that I'd ventured outside in the past 24 hours (last night's 'dinner'). I also think that my credit card had been flogged, so I cancel it, then find it within an obscure corner of my bag. It could be worse - I also left my camera lying around.

Going to the Public Security Bureau, we find out that they are shut for most of the day. "Come back at 4pm Beijing Time." We go to the post office. Same story. I still have no appetite, but force down a meal of greens and rice. The cyclops has yet to reply.