Although he was meant to take the 10:00 am bus to Baerji, a staging post on the way to Hom, he missed the bus as a result of a misunderstanding in the Bus terminal – he had been taken into the care of a helpful guard, who wittingly or unwittingly misinterpreted the scrap of paper on which Ostragon's destination had been written by his hostess at the youth hostel.

Luckily he worked out what the issue was and the attendants obligingly refunded him and printed   the right ticket for his trip, except that he would have to take the night bus, not the intended day bus, through the northern desert to Baerji.

He had one last day to explore Urumqi.  His confidence having increased in dealing with the locals and his realisation that providing that he maintained a certain posture he would be fairly treated, he ventured into the North of the city which is mostly Uighur.  The Bazaar is in this area of the city, but first he visited the street markets to the north of this, some might call it a slum, but in the streets he saw everything for sale from fresh bread, meat and vegetables, to local nuts and dried grapes and fruit of all kinds, baskets, carpets, metal workers selling their time and sweat, furniture merchants, white goods, some new, some clearly having seen better days and in a chaotic street, fashion which has not changed in thousands of years.  He walked for several hours that morning through the back streets of Urumqi.  When he was hungry he stopped at a man who was making naan bread and he ate some of the most tasty fresh bread he has ever eaten, made of soft fragrant flour.

He continued on this tour and found what appeared to be the main thorough-fare of this rather ragged area of town; it had two way car traffic.  He decided to sit down by the street on a step outside a little building and finish eating his Na'an bread, enjoying the site of the street activity, the traffic and the day going past.  As he sat there he noticed a rather attractive Uighur woman to his side, a few feet away, standing guard in front of a set of beads which covered a door.  Several attractive women came and went, some older ones and a few young boys also.  Sitting there, Ostragon realised he was sitting on the sill of an ice-cream parlour.

After enjoying the sights of the street for a while longer, he got up and addressed the woman in the best way he could pointing at the ice-cream and asking if he could have some which she duly served him in a little paper cup.  He was made to relax on a bed laid out in the ice-cream parlour; too dusty and dirty to lie down, he sat there and ate his fresh ice-cream, which was light and creamy and very relaxing.  He could understand why one might want to recline while enjoying this special treat.

After this diversion he made his way to the Bazaar which he scouted – a number of different stalls in a big multi-level hall; mostly held by Chinese selling cheap briq-a-brack, there were also a couple of Pakistani stores selling their special type of brass-work representing animals, mostly bulls as that was the Chinese astrological sign of the auspicious year in which Ostragon made his trip.  There were also some Khazakhs, who sold fur items, some chinese selling military and propaganda items relating to China under the Mao period and a number of stalls held by very attractive Uighur women, selling their very beautiful silk ware, and a number of both Uighur and Chinese stalls selling sheepskin rugs.  Ostragon made price enquiries to possibly come back at a later date.

It was getting late and on his way back to the hostel Ostragon went past a CD shop and tried getting some information relating to the local music which he was unable to do with the very grumpy and uncommunicative shop owner.

It was time to make his back-pack up once more and head off and catch his bus, which he did with a couple of fellow vagrant travelers, Marcel from Switzerland and Kathlin from the U.S. The couple had met while traveling separately and had been traveling together ever since, a period of 12 months, from Northern to Southern Africa, across most of Asia, from India all the way east into China, through Burma and other places rarely travelled by westerners.

They formed an interesting couple, Marcel very relaxed but rather shy and nervous around the Chinese, Kathlin more nervous as a type, but more outgoing and relaxed when dealing with the Chinese. She mastered a few of the key words necessary for getting by, maybe too much so as it seemed they were prone to getting into arguments with locals; they recounted a funny story which could have turned nasty about how they dealt with a cheating water melon street-salesman.  A street mob gathered around the arguing salesman and this couple, until finally they had to make a run for it with their mellon, having left the money on the salesman's cart.

The bus they all boarded was a sleeper, with three rows of narrow short beds, just long enough to take up a rather odd upright sleeping position with legs stretched out.  Ostragon was struck by the beauty of one of the Uighur girls onboard with her family; she looked about 18 but could easily have been 15 or 21.

The bus took off and headed out of Urumqi, again it was one of those busses mounted on a truck chassis, with very hard carriage suspension and very low gear ratios.  It ground forward, like an unstoppable tank, forward and into the big wide open desert.

After a couple of hours they stopped at a lay by, where a number of other buses were already waiting and everyone got out.  People milled about, some went into the building to have noodles, others peed on the sidings while still others queued for more private but by no means any more hygienic facilities.

After about half an hour, everyone piled back into the busses.  Ostragon and his two travel companions were the only westerners to be seen.  The couple had gone off to get some food, while Ostragon waited and peed outside.  He felt no need to worry about his belongings and wondered whether he was being naïve, but realised quickly that although people noticed his different complexion and different coloured eyes, they did not intrude, stare or make him feel uncomfortable. He felt quite safe.








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