China > Kashgar, the city of the Uyghurs

China - The Id Kah Mosque is the oldest and largest mosque in China

The advantage of the time difference also means I can sleep in in the morning. By ten o’clock, I’m having breakfast. Kashgar used to be one of the most important trading cities along the Silk Road—where East met West. Today, Kashgar is a city of 700,000 inhabitants. The original residents of this area, the Uyghurs, are increasingly being displaced by the growing Han Chinese population. The Chinese government encourages Han Chinese to move to this region in order to integrate it more closely with China. This policy is similar to the Chinese approach toward Tibetans in the southwest. I leave the hotel and walk toward the city center. Wide roads guide me. Crossing the streets, I test how much respect there is here for the pedestrian crossings. I quickly realize that the stripes on the road are purely decorative, without any real meaning. Carefully, I weave between cars and scooters to reach the other side. I notice that there are an enormous number of electric scooters here. Good for the environment. I just don’t hear them approaching from behind and am often startled by a loud horn. In the center, the streets are narrower, and commerce is in full swing. Bread is baked in street ovens. At the butcher’s, meat is displayed, and many other traditional crafts are practiced in the streets.

China - Some schoolchildren in Kashgar

At the central square near the mosque, the market takes on a fair-like atmosphere. I can take a photo with a camel or in traditional clothing. I can even sit on a horse that can rear on command. The Id Kah Mosque is the oldest and largest mosque in China. Through the large courtyard, I reach the prayer hall. The mosque is simple in design, especially compared with the other mosques I have visited on this trip. Many people in the region are Muslim, but the religion is followed less strictly. Only a few women here in Kashgar wear a headscarf in public. The wide boulevards of Kashgar are filled with modern Chinese stores. Behind these boulevards lie the simpler Uyghur shops near the old city. Of the described “Old Town” with adobe houses, little remains. The old houses are being demolished rapidly and replaced with new buildings. As a result, the streets in the old center appear dilapidated. A few schoolchildren brighten up the scene. Do they want to be in a photo? Once they see it, they all want to be in the picture. Through the Main Square, with the statue of Mao, I walk into the park.

China - Many old clay houses must make way for new buildings in Kashgar

Men play card games in the shade. Children take a spin on the small amusement park rides. On the other side of the park, I take a taxi. Although taxis normally run on the meter, I agree to the ten-yuan note the driver shows me. This is, as I expect, the fare to the Tomb of Abakh Khoja, a few kilometers outside the center. When I get out at the tomb, I realize that getting transport back might be a problem. There are no taxis waiting. Trying to talk to my current driver is impossible—we do not speak a word of each other’s language. I’ll figure it out later. I walk around the mausoleum grounds. From the outside, the mausoleum looks beautiful. I laugh when I see a sign that says “take picture here”—the Kodak point is clearly marked. Convenient. Inside, I am surprised by the large number of gravestones. In addition to the tomb of Abakh Khoja, I count about thirty other graves placed close together. When I come back to the exit, I’m lucky—a taxi is waiting. I show the driver the business card of my hotel, which is in Chinese. He looks at me questioningly, and I look back at him. Our conversation ends there. He shakes his head as if to say he doesn’t know or isn’t going there.

China - The Tomb of Abakh Khoja just outside Kashgar

He drives off without me. I look for another taxi. I walk about 500 meters back to the main road. The supply of taxis is extremely limited. Those that pass are already occupied. Bus line 20 comes to the rescue. I have no idea of the bus route, but at least it’s going in the right direction. I get on and pay one yuan to the driver. I’ll see where it comes out in the center. A Chinese boy helps me. He explains that the bus doesn’t go to my hotel and that I must transfer to line 9. When he gets off, he asks the driver to signal me. I follow the bus route on the map. When the driver waves at me, I’m only one street away from the hotel. I walk the final stretch. In the evening, there is a traditional Uyghur dance evening at John’s Café. Beforehand, I eat something at a local restaurant near the hotel, pointing to a dish using one of the pictures on the menu.