My Kingdom for a Donkey
Dunhuang, China
There's a chain of outdoor cafe/bar/travel service/expat hangouts in a few cities in NW China called "John's Cafe" which are allegedly a good place to meet fellow travelers. Thus far the only acquaintances I have made at this branch are longtime friend Tsingtao and his singaporese colleague tiger, which will have to suffice.
Earlier today I went to the Mingsha sand dunes and the crescent moon lake - it's a 200-300m high mass of dunes literally at the end of town, and the lake is Dunhuang's other attraction besides the caves, subject of this recent Times article.
I actually walked there, as the Rough Guide to China promised it was only 45 minutes, but it was more like 75 minutes in the desert. I could have taken a bus for a nominal fee, but I was aiming to recreate in microcosm the perilous desert crossings of early explorers like Sven Hedin and
Xuanzang, out of a sentiment that was equal parts masochism and misplaced romanticism. In any event, all dreams were shattered when I got to the park and saw that they were charging an outrageous 80 yuan ($10) to get in (by comparison, the forbidden city in Beijing only costs 60 yuan). It's just a bunch of sand and an underwhelming if significant pond. To make matters worse it's got all of the full scale tackiness that breaks out whenever a site becomes popular among chinese tourists. Disappointing.
Afterwards, while I dined at Charley Jong's cafe once again (which has one of the few Engrish menus in town), I decided, in keeping with the spirit I've maintained thus far, to sample the local specialties again. Last night I had the Dunhuang noodles (and to tell you the truth, after 12 days in Northern China I am beginning to reach noodle saturation point) and the other two local specialties were cold Donkey meat or lamb & vegetable hotpot. As cool as it would be to be able to write to you right now that "DUNHUANG EATS F-NG DONKEY MEAT BEYATCH YEAH!!!!!" I opted for the latter, and was re-acquainted with an old nemesis.
Now, having seen the words "lamb & vegetable hotpot", I reverted to my Occidental conception of lamb, you know, rack of lamb, shish-kebabs, gyros, that sort of thing. Well, even though I'm a central asian veteran, I forgot the first rule of eating around here, which is that 9 times out of 10, meat = boiled mutton. It's really difficult to describe the smell of mutton. It's sort of musty, and stale, and powerful yet not really a stench. It's intensely powerful up close but doesn't really carry, although it permeates but fades. It completely defies explanation. Without getting into the particulars of the Einsteinian vs. Newtonian universe, it sort of transcends curved space-time. An ominous sign as I head further west.
There's a chain of outdoor cafe/bar/travel service/expat hangouts in a few cities in NW China called "John's Cafe" which are allegedly a good place to meet fellow travelers. Thus far the only acquaintances I have made at this branch are longtime friend Tsingtao and his singaporese colleague tiger, which will have to suffice.
Earlier today I went to the Mingsha sand dunes and the crescent moon lake - it's a 200-300m high mass of dunes literally at the end of town, and the lake is Dunhuang's other attraction besides the caves, subject of this recent Times article.
I actually walked there, as the Rough Guide to China promised it was only 45 minutes, but it was more like 75 minutes in the desert. I could have taken a bus for a nominal fee, but I was aiming to recreate in microcosm the perilous desert crossings of early explorers like Sven Hedin and
Xuanzang, out of a sentiment that was equal parts masochism and misplaced romanticism. In any event, all dreams were shattered when I got to the park and saw that they were charging an outrageous 80 yuan ($10) to get in (by comparison, the forbidden city in Beijing only costs 60 yuan). It's just a bunch of sand and an underwhelming if significant pond. To make matters worse it's got all of the full scale tackiness that breaks out whenever a site becomes popular among chinese tourists. Disappointing.
Afterwards, while I dined at Charley Jong's cafe once again (which has one of the few Engrish menus in town), I decided, in keeping with the spirit I've maintained thus far, to sample the local specialties again. Last night I had the Dunhuang noodles (and to tell you the truth, after 12 days in Northern China I am beginning to reach noodle saturation point) and the other two local specialties were cold Donkey meat or lamb & vegetable hotpot. As cool as it would be to be able to write to you right now that "DUNHUANG EATS F-NG DONKEY MEAT BEYATCH YEAH!!!!!" I opted for the latter, and was re-acquainted with an old nemesis.
Now, having seen the words "lamb & vegetable hotpot", I reverted to my Occidental conception of lamb, you know, rack of lamb, shish-kebabs, gyros, that sort of thing. Well, even though I'm a central asian veteran, I forgot the first rule of eating around here, which is that 9 times out of 10, meat = boiled mutton. It's really difficult to describe the smell of mutton. It's sort of musty, and stale, and powerful yet not really a stench. It's intensely powerful up close but doesn't really carry, although it permeates but fades. It completely defies explanation. Without getting into the particulars of the Einsteinian vs. Newtonian universe, it sort of transcends curved space-time. An ominous sign as I head further west.
posted by Miguel V | 10:33 AM
2 Comments:
Funny, Hedin never mentioned the walk to the dunes when I was prepping him for his deposition.
Miguel: this all sounds crazy awesome. I never thought I'd wish I were in the remote far reaches of China but now I do. Be sure to let us know when you meet a Chinese person named Malcolm. Most people named Angus have a brother named Malcolm.
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