The Karakorum Highwayman

Asalaam Aleikum! That has to be the most useful single phrase I've ever learnt, at least in this part of the world.

So, I'm back in wonderful, dust-choked Kashgar after a quick sojourn down the (Chinese part of the) Karakorum Highway, which links Kashgar with Pakistan and Tajikistan. My travel compnions Julia and Aaron (from Brooklyn and New Jersey respectively) and I went all the way to the China - Pakistan border at the Khunjerap Pass, which at 5100m was beautiful, serene, and icy cold, qualities which between them awed all present into a wheezing, breathless silence.

Well, except this guy:


Ladies, control yourselves.

On the way up there we passed through the small town of Tashkurgan, a name which means "valley of blood" in Tajik (or was it Uighur?) due to the frequency with which bandits attacked caravans in times passed. The local tourist bureau might want to consider changing it, but at least it sounds tough.

Tashkkurgan, as you would expect of the last town before the Pakistani border, was totally overrun by Hollywood types, there to shoot the film adaptation of the Afghani novel (memoir?) "The Kite Runner." Apparently the area looks just like Afghanistan, thankfully minus the landmines and roving Taliban.

Julia, Aaron and I walked reverently through a graveyard (well, we didn't kick over any headstones at least), on the way to see the ruins of the stone city pictured below, only to find out on our return that the graveyard was a fake, set up by set design wizards the afternoon before. I think the rest of the town was real though.



On our way back to our ratty hotel (damn Hollywooders booked out every other bed in town), we happened across two local Tajik girls who had come to watch the action (kite flying, to be exact). We gave the little one an apple: as you can see she's thrilled. Her sister was more excited when Julia gave here a chance to take photos with her SLR camera, having obviously outgrown the apple phase. The locals were very friendly, especially a family we visited at random the next day slightly out of town, who strangely enough looked absolutely Scottish - even down to the children's flame red hair. I didn't take any photos, so you'll just have to believe me.


Travelling back to Kashgar, we spent our second night at Karakul Lake, which looks what I imagine the moon would look like if it had water and Kyrghyz yurt-dwellers. Obligatory scenery snaps follow.


As great as these places were, it was nice to get back to Kashgar for some Pakistani food and a real bed, after boiled Yak accompanied by way too much Yak-milk tea and, shock horror, the dreaded "Kyrghyz nang" bread, a special punishment reserved primarily for unsuspecting tourists. I know this because our driver stopped to buy the good, Uighur nang on the way to deliver to our hosts - it seems they prefer the competition.

Kashgar is an interesting town, full of veiled women and men in all kinds of hats, skullcaps to fedoras, who, when they meet acquaintances in the street, grasp each by both hands and then, if the other has a child with him, lean across to kiss the baby on the cheek. Charming, except for the veil part.

I'll be here a couple more days, enjoying lamb kebabs, camomille tea, and clean underwear. Fairly pedestrian stuff, I guess. But just a few days ago, I was this cool:


It's all downhill from here, no doubt.