Posts under "The Silk Road"

Now that we’ve covered traditional Chinese food, I thought I’d sit back and let my stomach do a little reflection on the tastes and textures of food along the Silk Road. Unlike traditional Han Chinese food, Silk Road Cuisine is blend of different cultures and spices from outside China. Because of Buddhist and Muslim influences that spread through Xinjiang (新疆) and Gansu (甘肃) province, this first batch of Silk Road food will focus less on traditional Han Chinese dishes, and instead on Pan-Asian cuisine including spices and flavors unknown to most westerners. So let’s get down to it, 吃吧!

Lamb (羊肉)

What are you lookin at?

So how do Muslim Chinese people deal with a country that’s fanatical for pork? BAAAAh. 羊肉 (yáng ròu) or lamb is your answer. It is the meat staple of western China (other than delicious yaak which will be covered shortly) and seems present in every dish (sorry vegetarians). Why so much lamb? Well take a look around you. There isn’t much vegetation or grassland. All you see is craggy peaks, rugged landscapes and small shrub brush–a natural habitat for goats. Also consider this: a goat’s plant biomass (what they consume) to meat efficiency is much greater than that of cows, pigs or other large livestock. They can cover large areas of rough terrain, foraging off of the most basic of shrub plants and prarie grasses without much cost to the shepherd.

Goats are ideal for this terrain and vegetation, plus they provide more than just meat–their lambs’ wool keeps the locals from freezing during the winters. So naturally, you’ll bump into a few goats as you traverse Xinjiang and Lake Karakul.

Like I mentioned earlier, lamb is in almost everything (and definitely served at every meal). Most commonly you find lamb in 拉面 ( miàn) or pulled noodles, which are served in a steaming lamb broth and accompanied by thin slices of lamb shank, cilantro, peppers and a variety of spices. For a previous post on 拉面, pulled noodles click here. If you like it nice and spicy, you can add 辣椒 ( jiāo) or hot pepper flakes/sauce by the spoonful. Making 拉面,pulled noodles:

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Then there is the ubiquitous 羊肉串儿 (yángròu chuàner) or lamb kebabs (meat on a stick). While very popular throughout China (and a staple of late night bar-hoppers), 串 started as a central asian food stuff. And the way they do lamb chuan here is incredible. Chunks of lamb shank are spaced between chunks of fat that sizzle, melt and absorb the flavor of the meat, spices and peppers. Anytime, be it day or night, you can throw a couple 块 the way of a street vendor and have yourself a tasty snack.

The nightlife in Kashgar is all about, grabbing a dozen or so 羊肉串s, a couple of beers and a deck of cards as you chat, eat and drink with your 朋友s in the cool evening air. It truly is carnivore heaven!

Yet the Xinjiang love for lamb extends past noodles and kebabs. One of my favorite surprises eating in Kashgar, was eating these oven-cooked, lamb pastry puffs simply called 羊包 (yángbāo). Imagine a small pastry of naan-like bread (we’ll get to naan later), filled with ground lamb, onions and pepper, that are cooked in circular metal kilns and then imagine you are starving and have just been on a bus for ten hours. Sound pretty tasty now, right? These “lamb puffs” were lifesavers during my stay in Kashgar.

Feeling hungry?Just walk up to a vendor with cash out and he’ll already be reaching into the oven with a pair of ridiculously long chopsticks to pull out your snack. Just watch out, they are extremely hot!

While I wasn’t a big fan of lamb going into this Silk Road trip, I quickly was won over after eating Chinese and Turkic preparation styles of mutton. That being said, living off of lamb alone, and eating it with every dish does take its toll on your 肚子 (stomach). After two weeks of lamb, I wanted something new if only to get the taste of lamb out of my mouth.

Yak (牦牛)

牦牛 (máo niú) or Yaak is simply delicious. It treads that fine line between steak and pork–lean, yet somehow fatty. The translation of 牦牛 literally means “hairy/furry cow”. A very apt translation if you ask me. Did I mention how logical of a language Chinese is?

After only lamb in Kashgar and Urumqi, Xia He and Lake Karakul were of a different mentality. Sure there were lamb running around everywhere, and there were some lamb dishes, but for us foreigners, who haven’t experienced life on the great plains, we had to try yak–in all of it’s forms. I didn’t expect much, but was surprised by the flavor from these hairy hulks.

Yak butter...absolutely terrible, but one must be a good guest.

Yak is considered somewhat of a delicacy and clearly we were being treated to something special. There was yak milk or 牦牛奶 (máo niú nǎi), yaak butter and yak yogurt…all of which I would not feed to my worst of enemies. Yak dairy, like yak, is very very fatty, and is similar to drinking butter-milk. Worse yet, when mixed with alcohol, it somehow manages heighten, not suppress, the flavor of 白酒 (grain liquor) while still feeling like you drank a stick of butter. 恶心!

But what really stood out for me, was the yak stew, a hearty mixture of potatoes, chunks of yak grizzle, gravy sauce and peppers. As the cold and 30 mph winds cut into us, this rib-sticking meal kept us warm and in high spirits. I think the Irish would really fit in well here, living of this diet of “meat and potatoes” and grain liquor “yak milk bombs”. The food fits the environment as such a high calorie diet is necessary out here on the open plains. So I say to you: Yak it up!

Naan (馕)

Local naan (馕) vendors.

For those non-carnivores (or fans of bread), western China has got your covered. Naan bread, or 馕 (náng), is a round, flattened bread, originally from central Asia. It is coated in a slight oil, salt and some chili pepper flakes and is served fresh out of the oven. Just like kebabs and pulled noodles, naan vendors are serving their craft everywhere at anytime. A loaf (think pizza crust) is only a few 块,and will rid you of the rumble in your stomach.

While delicious just by itself naan works best as a compliment to a Xinjiang meal, as naan is perfect for soaking up soup broth, can be used to make a “lamb sandwich” or my personal favorite: “uighur pizza”, which involves heaping 辣子鸡丁 sauce all over the naan, and then helping yourself to a slice. I think I know where Marco Polo got the whole pizza idea thing from.

Now that is one happy 老外!

Check out some pictures below (not for the squeamish):

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While traveling through Gansu Province, we came across the Jiayu Pass or 嘉峪关 (Jiāyùguān) –the largest and most intact section of the western Great Wall of China. The pass runs through central Gansu acting as a corridor for people traveling between Dunhuang and Lanzhou and marks the frontier of ancient Han culture in premodern times.

For centuries, everything outside of the mighty walls was considered the wild west of northwestern China. In these lawless desert plains, Jiayuguan stood as a beacon of the middle kingdom, representing order and civility. It was the tip of the spear for Chinese western expansion and a safe haven for weary merchants, returning from their desert trek on the Silk Road.

In ancient times, this pass was a stronghold for the Han Chinese, and became one of the most fortified sections of the Great Wall. Remnants of the ancient Great Wall are still in place, but have been warn down, due mainly to lack of up-keep, conflict and erosion from the desert winds.

The 嘉峪关乡 (Jiāyùguānxiāng) castle stands outside modern day Jiayuguan City (嘉峪关市 [Jiāyùguānshi]) by the ancient Great Wall. While much of the castle has been rebuilt to accommodate tourists, the grounds are still fun to wander around in. Here, Han Culture dominates, which is evident from the architecture, clothing, food and people that live in this area.

At the Fort, tourists can come to marvel at the elaborate defensive perimeter system from which thousands of archers would ensnare their victims within an outer courtyard, and reign down arrows on unsuspecting invaders. You can also enjoy watching traditional opera, plays and even try your luck dressing up as a 12th century “knight”.

There isn’t much else to do outside of the castle and Great Wall remnants, other than relax by the East Lake (东湖) and enjoy some food and drink. Unlike Dunhuang, Xiahe, Urumqi and Kashgar, Jiayuguan is distinctly Chinese, and stands as a beacon of Hanliness in an area surrounded by Turkic Muslims, Mongolians and Tibetans.

That being said, there are a large amount of ethnically muslim Han Chinese here (called the Huímín or 回民–literally “return folk”). While Han Chinese in ethnicity, they do disassociate themselves from regular Chinese in a few ways: the men wear little white hats, the women wear white shawls, they don’t drink alcohol and of course, and they don’t eat pork or 猪肉, arguably Chinese peoples’ favorite meat. Let me just say it was heavenly to have some 猪肉白菜饺子 (pork and cabbage dumplings) after weeks of only lamb or yak. Mmmmm…非常好吃! *Drooling*

Jiayuguan felt like home away from home, which is strange to say as a foreigner in China. This was clearly the point where, historically, China said, “this is the front door to our kingdom, this is the beginning of western China”. While Kashgar, Dunhuang and Urumqi are frontier cities, the Jiayuguan Pass became the cutoff point between civilized China and the wild west. Your last bastion of Chinese culture, customs and rule of law ends after this wall:

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I wonder if maybe history is repeating itself in the Gansu-Xinjiang provinces. Unlike most eastern and southern provinces of China, these two western areas, filled with minorities, seem to still be at the “frontier” stages of their development–even after thousands of years.

Check out the gallery below:

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The photos below are taken from a 1,500 km trek across the greater Gobi Desert or (戈比) area. The trip spanned from the most western reaches of Xinjiang province (新疆), through Inner Mongolia (内蒙古) and concluding in Gansu Province (甘肃). Check out the diverse climates, altitudes, and scenery as we retrace the steps of thousands of merchants along the historic Silk Road (丝路).

Video Slideshow:

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Thumbnail Gallery:

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Located roughly 250 km from the borders of Afghanistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and  Pakistan, Kashgar or 喀什 (Kāshí) is a border city of approximately million people located in western Xinjiang Province. The surrounding countryside is almost all desert, with average temperatures sea-sawing between extremely frigid colds and scorching heat (sometimes both happening within 24 hours). It is the cultural center of the Uighur population, an ethnic minority of muslims from the Caucus mountain range.

Within the city limits, the natural oasis and spring water provides irrigation, agriculture and grazing land for livestock turning this patch of desert land into a pit stop paradise for wayward travelers. Due to its geographic location between China and Central Asia, it became a major stop along the Silk Road for those looking to stock up on supplies.

During the Han Dynasty, Kashgar played an important role as a frontier city for trade and cultural exchange. By establishing what is now generally referred to as the Northern Silk Route, the Chinese had cemented their presence in central Asia while opening up lines to the Middle East and beyond. As the Han Chinese expanded westward they required tributes from neighboring lands and regions. In exchange, the Chinese would share technology and trade routes as incentives for continued business.

By the 1st century AD, merchants from across Asia were calling Kashgar a temporary home as they traversed the vast desert. With those merchants came their respective cultures and creeds, including many eastern religions that have left an indelible mark on the Silk Road. Up through the Tang Dynasty, the influx of Buddhist pilgrims influenced many followers to convert within the city. Daoism and Confucianism also made their way west from central China. Centuries later Islam would come to dominate the religion in this area. However, in this transitional time peroid (7th and 8th centuries), Kashgar was without a true identity as a series of conflicts among the Mongols, Chinese and Turkic tribes fragmented the region, left the region a scattered mix of various tribes, cultures and ethnicities.

Amidst subjugation and infighting, Kashgar faltered, and didn’t emerge again as powerhouse of trade until Arab conquest of the late 8th and 9th centuries. While Islam was charging across the Middle East and up into Central Asia, the Silk Road acted as an ancient “super highway” spreading Muslim culture throughout the region. By the late 10th century Kashgar and its followers had almost all converted to Islam under prince Sultan Satuq Bughra Khan, establishing the Uighur Kingdom.

The Uighur Kingdom, while short lived in rule, established many of the rules and customs of Uighur culture that are still practiced today. While power, influence and control of land shifted back and forth among the Turks, Mongolians, and Chinese, people within Xinjiang and Kashgar remained true to their Silk Road roots.

These people, known as Uighurs–维吾尔族人 (wéi wú ěr zú rén) or 维语 (wéi wú) for short [Uighur: قەشقەر‎] have continued to carry out the same traditions and practices that existed nearly a millenium ago. Because of their adherence to Turkic rituals and very strong traditions of practice and observance within the muslim faith, the Uighurs are quite unique to the rest of China’s ethnic makeup. While their roots are nomadic, Uighur society is strengthened around Muslim beliefs and as a result have a very strong sense of community. Their culture has existed for thousands of years without having to change much and the people take pride in this fact.

In modern day Kashgar, the city is divided entirely by two distinct ethnic lines, between the developing, metropolitan Han Chinese population and the isolated, almost pre-industrial population of the Uighurs. Kashgar is famous for its Uighur livestock market (see photos below) where traders and farmers conduct an ancient system of bartering–using only their hands. Check it out (at 0:30):

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Once you’ve wandering through the endless acres of cattle and livestock, you can head on over to the Kasghar Bizarre which I can only describe as a gargantuan open air complex of lean-to stalls snaking endlessly through a labyrinth of Muslim architecture.

The place is massive. Anything you need–literally anything–you can find at this bizarre. While I couldn’t pick up on the hand bartering system in my short stay, I soon found that everything at the bizarre had a “just fell off a truck” price to it. Just watch your wallet and  be prepared to barter like you’ve never  bartered before, this time in a combination of English and Chinese and broken Uighur phrases.

Outside of the bizarre and markets sits the “Old City” of Kashgar where the majority of Uighur residents live. This area has a timelessness to it that makes you feel as if you were transported some centuries back. Mosques are everywhere and so is evidence of a strongly muslim culture. Because of centuries of conflict and the desire for autonomy, “Old City” Kashgar has stagnated economically–by simply not being involved in the modern economy.

Poverty is apparent on every street and stands as a strong reminder that without a strong muslim social safety net, many people here would starve.While on aggregate China’s GDP booms and incomes rise, this part of China is stuck looking in from the outside, waiting for a chance when growth and development will come Kashgar’s way. Questions still remain: how long can the Uighurs sit idly by as tension and restlessness continues to rise? Is it independence or inclusion that people are after?

No doubt you’ve heard  of the riots and violence that has dominated headlines in Xinjiang for the last decade. Social unrest is a constant problem in these areas where unemployment, poverty, substance abuse and radicalization of Islam are becoming incredibly taxing on development. The disconnect between Han and Uighur culture has forced a societal rift between neighbors of the same city. Ironic that a millennium ago Kashgar was the forefront of cultural exchange and diversity. Now it’s a tale of two cities–one past and one present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Taklamakan Desert or 塔克拉玛干沙漠 (Tǎkèlāmǎgān Shāmò), is the world’s 17th largest desert (and one of the largest sandy deserts), running north-south throughout western Xinjiang, Mongolia and even parts of Russia and Afghanistan.

It is bordered by the KunLun mountains to the south and the Tianshan (later post) to the north. Taklamakan is a cold desert, elevated more than a mile above sea level, causing extreme fluctuation in temperatures between day and night. Yet for how inhospitable the climate is, people have roamed these lands for millennium, carving out a unique way of life that continues today.

In the central northern region of the Taklamakan desert rests  Lake Karakul  or  喀拉库勒湖, located nearly 3600 meters above sea level. Amidst this dry high plains environment, Lake Karakul sits as an oasis, providing a constant water supply for local plants, animals, herds and native people. The countryside is quite barren and rugged, populated sparsely by herds of goats and yaak along with some scrub brush. However, the vistas are beautiful as the Karakul valley is surrounded by mountain peaks well over 5,000 and in some cases 6,000 meters high.

Locals are primarily migratory herdsmen that move with the seasons throughout the high plains. Like migratory peoples of North America, they rely on transportable houses, similar to tee pees, called yurts. Yurts or 毡帐 (zhānzhàng) are made to be highly mobile, highly wind resistant, and…well moderately warm. They are more dome-like than teepee-shaped and are much sturdier built to handle the elements.

While the Yurt is traditionally a Mongolian design, its influence has extended throughout Northwestern China, Xinjiang and even into Central Asia. Due to its Mongolian roots, many of the customs and religions that Yurt people follow are less Chinese and Muslim and more nomadic and tribal. Like in Tibet, there is a “Cowboy Culture” that comes along with Yurt dwellers, who yearn for the frontier, fresh air and serenity. Like in Kashgar, you get a distinct feeling that these people prefer to exist outside the reach of the Chinese government and Han Culture. Out here on these plains, you fend for yourself.

Be forewarned though–life up here in these high desert plains is no joke and can take quite a toll on ill-prepared travelers. For example, after an exhausting climb upwards into 5000 meter territory, followed by a yak milk-liquor and yak-stew meal, half of our group had taken turn for the worse, experiencing the beginning stages of altitude sickness (imagine the worst headache/body ache of your life coupled with nausea, fatigue and dizziness). While I was lucky enough to avoid the illness, many of my fellow travelers found themselves in a bad state, hundreds of miles from the nearest hospital or clinic and wishing for basic amenities.

As night fell, the desert temperature nose-dived to sub-zero temperatures and the wind turned into icy daggers. Inside the yurts, a small stove would burn throughout the night, but to little effect. Even buried deep under mounds of blankets, rugs and furs (which are sprawled across the floor of the yurt), the cold cut straight through me. As our dejected band of travelers shivered our way through the night, we all were thinking the same thing: how long before sunrise?

When the first rays came streaming through the cracks in our yurt door, we eagerly set out to explore the surrounding village of about 80 people, sharing bottles of baijiu, yak stew and cigarettes while we played pool on a lopsided table.

Most of the men were either herders, mechanics or “tour guides”, which meant their livelihoods were all inexplicably tied to motor cycles or 摩托车  ( tuō chē). Cars can barely make it through the dirt paths (our bus got stuck on multiple occasions) and washout roads, so transport usually happens either on horse or camel back, on foot or on a motor bike.

Additionally, all electricity, water and plumbing is self-sustained, as a makeshift wind turbine (see gallery) powered almost all of the villages lighting needs. Water had to be pumped in from wells or purified from the lake. Guard and herd dogs (quite feral to be honest) roamed the alleyways and yards searching for anything edible to eat and all but attacking any 老外 that made direct eye contact or offered a hand to pet. Here, no one wore a watch and almost everyone seemed to be in a perpetual “work break”. Business here (in chinese 事情 [shì qing]) happens on the locals’ terms–when they were good and ready–so I resigned myself to follow their lead and hangout for a spell.

When asked what they do for fun other than pool and cards, one self proclaimed “cowboy” (牛仔 [niúzǎi]) responded by deftly flicking his Playboy Aviator sun glasses from his hat to his eyes while simultaneous lighting up a cigarette and exclaiming, “Clint Eastwood!” while motioning to himself. He then walked over to his raggedy 150 cc bike, kick started it and proceeded to rev of the engine, saying, “horse”. I think I may have just discovered China’s official “Marlboro Man” .

Our last night at the lake ended with–you guessed it–more yak stew and heavy drinking. I soon figured out that, in this climate, a combination of fatty yak meat and hearty stews coupled with strong drink are necessary to brave the frigid nights.

Thus the “喝杯 yurt bomb” (the Xinjiang version of an Irish Car Bomb) became a staple drink of our time spent in in Xinjiang, which requires only a beer and a bottle of baijiu mixed with yak milk. As “Clint” showed us, all you have to do is take a swig of beer and hold it in your mouth saving a little space for step two. Next, while still “gargling” the beer, take a pull of baijiu or yak jiu, mix it all together by shaking your head violently, then swallow and enjoy. After you start feeling that fire in your belly, these great plain nights don’t feel so bad…that is…until you step outside.

See Gallery below:

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