Vignettes From China - Part Two - Turpan
From Urumqi we went to Turpan (Tulufan), a city on the Northnern silk road. There were a group of Uyghur boys who put on a Uyghur music and dance show every night at the hotel we were staying, and we made their acquaintance. Turpan is famous for its grapes, so Regan and I were excited when that evening after their show they proposed that we go out and drink some local "Akh Sharap", which translates to "White Wine". When the bottle arrived and was uncorked, we took a whiff, and were greeted with a strong boquet of moonshine nail polish. It turns out they call their local wheat vodka "Akh Sharap". Nevertheless, being the gracious guests we are, we did not decline to help finish the bottle.
The next day they drove us around to see the (fairly touristy) sights around Turpan. In early afternoon, one of them said that he needed to pick up some medicine that made him happy. We agreed, and so we drove to an old Uyghur man's house. The man produced a jar of brownish paste that smelled like honey and spices. The stuff was, according to our hosts, legal and local, made from some flowers that they couldn't name or describe very well. When they were young, their parents gave it to them for toothaches. Now that they were older, it seems they gave it to themselves for ennui. In a half an hour, they were incommunicative with giggling. No longer too interested in seeing the tourist traps of Turpan, they suggested that we order a watermelon at a cafe, where we sat drinking tea, Regan and I chatting and our hosts giggling uncontrollably, high as buzzards.
That night, one of the performers who had eaten the paste had to perform in the show. Regan and I went to see it again, and it was a lot different than what we remembered, mostly because our stoned friend was doing everything out of order. After the show I learned how to say I'm stoned in Chinese, which ironically enough is "wo you hao ganja." The next night we went to see the show again, and were told that another three performers had "ganja". Evidentally, this is a pretty regular thing. If you go to see the Uyghur music show in Turpan, this little behind-the-scenes factoid might make the show more enjoyable.
The next day, we went to a Uyghur wedding, where we mostly just felt awkward. There was a lot of silly string sprayed at the morose-looking couple during their First Dance. After that, we went to a Uyghur-only disco, and indeed, Regan and I were the only non-Turkic faces in the place. There were two kinds of dances at the disco - slow dances, which are ala American Grade School, and fast dances, where the entire crowd moves in a circle, executing in turn the gestures that characterize Uyghur traditional dance.
By the way, of the sights in Turpan, the best by far were the Gaochang ruins and the old city of Tuyoq, which has only been opened to the public in the last five years. They are best taken as a pair - Tuyoq gives one a glimpse of what Gaochang might have looked like when it was the capitol of a Uyghur empire; you can see echoes of the dead city in the living one.
The next day they drove us around to see the (fairly touristy) sights around Turpan. In early afternoon, one of them said that he needed to pick up some medicine that made him happy. We agreed, and so we drove to an old Uyghur man's house. The man produced a jar of brownish paste that smelled like honey and spices. The stuff was, according to our hosts, legal and local, made from some flowers that they couldn't name or describe very well. When they were young, their parents gave it to them for toothaches. Now that they were older, it seems they gave it to themselves for ennui. In a half an hour, they were incommunicative with giggling. No longer too interested in seeing the tourist traps of Turpan, they suggested that we order a watermelon at a cafe, where we sat drinking tea, Regan and I chatting and our hosts giggling uncontrollably, high as buzzards.
That night, one of the performers who had eaten the paste had to perform in the show. Regan and I went to see it again, and it was a lot different than what we remembered, mostly because our stoned friend was doing everything out of order. After the show I learned how to say I'm stoned in Chinese, which ironically enough is "wo you hao ganja." The next night we went to see the show again, and were told that another three performers had "ganja". Evidentally, this is a pretty regular thing. If you go to see the Uyghur music show in Turpan, this little behind-the-scenes factoid might make the show more enjoyable.
The next day, we went to a Uyghur wedding, where we mostly just felt awkward. There was a lot of silly string sprayed at the morose-looking couple during their First Dance. After that, we went to a Uyghur-only disco, and indeed, Regan and I were the only non-Turkic faces in the place. There were two kinds of dances at the disco - slow dances, which are ala American Grade School, and fast dances, where the entire crowd moves in a circle, executing in turn the gestures that characterize Uyghur traditional dance.
By the way, of the sights in Turpan, the best by far were the Gaochang ruins and the old city of Tuyoq, which has only been opened to the public in the last five years. They are best taken as a pair - Tuyoq gives one a glimpse of what Gaochang might have looked like when it was the capitol of a Uyghur empire; you can see echoes of the dead city in the living one.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home