Part 2 To The Arrival Adventure For The Gobi March
Urumqi Police Protection
Having arrived safely to Urumqi and being picked up at the airport, a 20min or so ride through the town to the station was interesting to say the least.
As the driver made his way across Urumqi it isn’t hard to understand why it may not make its way on to many peoples bucket list of places to visit. A typical large industrial looking city, which happens to be the ‘capital’ of Xinjiang, it didn’t seem to extend much by the way of cultural attraction, although admittedly it was only a brief trip and direct trip.
Here in start the regrets of not learning Mandarin or reading Chinese after 9 years in Asia. The car stopped, the friendly enough driver, in what I assume to have been a valiant attempt at English, points in the direction of a large building suggesting I make my way there, as he couldn’t get me any closer. Presumably the train station, as there was not anything of note indicting such.
Grabbing my bags the trek starts – wording chosen carefully. Climbing four flights of stairs to cross a highway, you make your way across a long raised walkway to another four flights of stairs to get back to ground level. In my case all with suitcases in tow, not backpacks. Then you are greeted with a maze of barriers, signage all in Chinese. A deep breath and you make your way in.
The first thing that might strike a foreigner here is the distinct lack of fellow foreigners. The second is the numerous Police. I desperately hoping at this stage these two observations are mutually exclusive and totally unrelated.
Many of these Police were sporting a large “SWAT” painted across their clearly bullet proof jacket. A concerning image at the very least. Navigating the maze required three presentations of passport and ticket to machinegun totting Officers. Unsurprisingly compliant to the request I did so with what I’m sure was a forced smile trying not to look guilty without looking like your trying not to look guilty.
Two security checks more and I was finally sitting in the station – the right one even. Here is a tip – memorise your train number, the only guidance for the right station and there are more than one, was a number of large timetable boards, all in Chinese except for the train number. Another tip - don’t put off the chance to learn basic Chinese when its presented over a 9 year period.
Urumqi To Hami
With a bottle of water and a packet of what I will only assume to be potato crisps (there was nothing on the packet to confirm this) I strangely felt very safe and special knowing a well trained army was arranged to protect the building whilst I waited for my train.
As the station started to fill there was a growing feeling of conspicuousness. It seems not that many Western looking folk make their way out this way, at least not to the station waiting for a train to the back of nowhere. Pondering this more so as the chaos began for boarding my train, it turns out I literally was the only Westerner in the station at that time. That all said boarding the train was all remarkably organised. I made it on the right train, right carriage and right seat. A satisfying result in my mind since all instructions were in Mandarin, of which I understood none.
The train between Urumqi and Hami is one of the new high-speed trains being introduced all over China. Being new it was very clean and very comfortable, all a little surreal given where we were. The train trip itself is enjoyable, once the self-consciousness subsides. Clearly foreigners are a curiosity to most usual passengers in these parts.
Train trips have always held an increased fascination as you do get to enjoy the scenery much more than when flying. This one didn’t disappoint.
Shortly after leaving Urumqi you are treated to fields of wind farms. Those tall poles with big arse propellers on them. You are however left wondering whether they were in the midst of construction or decay. Looking closely there were many which had their blades laying on the ground, way too randomly to presume pre-construction. Maybe the cheapest bidder won the contract. Not long after these you start to get the sense of remoteness as the desert makes an appearance along with vast open areas that looked very manmade/cut away.
A three and a half hour trip passed quite quickly. After a few quick stops the train arrives in Hami. Where, if you don’t read Chinese, the ‘wtf do I do now’ feeling makes its unwelcome appearance once more. Starting with trying to work out where one might actually get a taxi. I didn’t actually do the pre-arranged pick up, adventurously thinking it would be more interesting to do it old school – haha.
In Hami Mandarin, although spoken by many, is by no means the rule. There are a number of dialects and local languages that are very common given the diversity of cultures in this region. As a result even my bad attempt of using my Mandarin phrasebook to get a taxi failed miserably. Have you ever got a reaction from a local that looks like you just asked ‘Is your mother a fat cow?’ rather than the intended question ‘Where do I get a taxi?’?
Yet being somewhat resourceful, by literally throwing myself in front of something looking like a cab, I managed to get myself into a taxi and with the help of the hotel details written in Chinese (good advice I heeded) I was on the last step to my destination for this first part. The upside here is that we should be glad Hami has not yet devolved to having taxi touts.
World Peace In The Making
The taxi driver, a very talkative man, didn’t speak English - at all, but seemed very curious to know something about the maniac who just threw himself in front of his cab.
After numerous attempts to communicate verbally, from both front and back, the driver decided to take a different approach and presented his note book in which he had a blank flag, pointing at it quite vigorously, his way of finding out where I was from. Not a bad alternative means of dialogue I thought.
I presented back a duly completed Australian flag. He looked at it, asked a question, or many, I had no hope of understanding and then shrugged his shoulders and continued driving. It appears memorising the Australian flag did not feature highly in his geography education during the 60’s in Northern China.
As he was clearly none the wiser to the nationality of the guy sitting in the back of his taxi, I felt it important for international relations to remedy the situation. Maybe not quite on the brink of an international incident, but important enough to make an effort.
Leveraging my extensive Pictionary skills, I proceeded to draw what could only be described as a ridiculously bad map of Asia, with an equally sickly looking Australia sitting in its spot, well close at least. In my defence the cab was old with poor suspension making drawing to exact scale a little more challenging.
When he saw my scribbles he immediately shouted “kangaroos” in almost perfect English extending the biggest smile I’ve seen for some time.
At this point I chalk one up for ‘a picture is as good as a thousand words’, even a bad one and I am satisfied with my small effort to reinforce the good diplomatic, as well as cultural, relations that Australia and China enjoy today.
After 38 hours of travel I’ve arrived at the Hami Hotel in one piece with my luggage and world peace well on its way.
Now the desert beckons for the real adventure.
Read On - Gobi, Four Seasons In One Week
