Day 30: Needle Stabbings in Urumqi

Watching the Planes at the Urumqi Airport

Day: 30.
City: Urumqi
(City Pronunciation: oo-roo-moo-chee)
Location: Airport
Headlines: “Urumqi Riots Leave 140 Dead”; “10,000 Protest Needle Stabbings in Urumqi”
Reaction: NEEDLE STABBINGS?!?!  WTFFFFFFFFF, mate?
Resolution: To thank Buddha that the airport is ten miles away from the city proper, to not set foot outside of said airport, and to feel lucky that we are only here to change planes on our way to Kashgar. Also, to not tell my mom about this until I am safely home. If at all.
Digression: We knew there was rioting in Western China and that we would have to be careful. But needle stabbings in the streets? That is just about the creepiest thing I have ever heard. There aren’t reports of any horrifying diseases being spread, so at least that’s good. Still, the stabbings alone, even if they were done with sterilized syringes, (which I seriously doubt), sound pretty heinous.

So Sam and I wander the small airport, sup on buckets of noodles and dessert on ice cream with that flat wooden spoon, feel encouraged and comforted by the presence of the European couple also going to Kashgar, and feel impressive and adventurous at the surprise of the couple’s Chinese tour guide when she learned we weren’t meeting up with a tour but were rather braving this dangerous and unpredictable world on our own. Interesting how quickly I have transitioned from “Needle Stabbings?!? What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?!?!” to “Yeah, we ARE pretty awesome, aren’t we?”
Conclusion: Yeah, we are pretty awesome, aren’t we?

Day 23: Adios, Qingdao; Ni hao, Shanghai

We wake up surprisingly refreshed after yesterday’s, well, depravity. Given our recent penchant for studying all day to prepare for the bar, I think I drank more beer yesterday than in the previous three months combined. But we stayed up late enough and ate enough delicious, delicious Ali Baba chuanr that we weren’t spinning when we went to bed. So there is no hangover to ruin our sublime hotel buffet.

Day 20: Back to Beijing

Laying awake in the dark, the red numbers of the clock radio flash 4:06.

A.M.

Shower.  Praise the heavens that the bathroom is stocked with a toothbrush and toothpaste and I have enough bottled water for rinsing.  And praise Buddha himself that I keep deodorant in my backpack.  Because, as you know, we don’t have our luggage.

Another trip on the road to the airport.  With any luck at all we will get out of here today.

In the airport we eat some bucket-o-noodle breakfast and wait to see what is happening with the flight.  Sam learns that the airline will be handing out cash to the people on our flight, and I prepare myself for ground-shaking chaos as these people try to get their money.

Day 19: One Day Too Many in Tibet

Where yesterday I didn’t take any photos worth posting here, today I didn’t take any photos.  Period.  Carriage Return.

The Battered Leather Journal says we went shopping today, but I don’t remember it.

In the afternoon, we took one last ride with Sijila (and his little son – it was fun to see Sijila as a caring father) to the airport – an hour and a half backtracking on the route we took to Everest.  This all looks verrry familiar.  Sijila laughed at one of our jokes before we could even respond to it ourselves, reinforcing our suspicion that he is full of lies about not speaking English.  He is the type that would pretend so he wouldn’t have to interact with annoying tourists.  We hand Sijila his and Choedak’s tips, Sam hands his son an authentic American dollar bill, and we are off on the next leg of the trip: Qingdao (think: CHING-dow), via Beijing.