One of the highlights of being in a place where pretty much the gooseberries, cinnamon sticks, and Chinese spinach mix together in a market place is that you find yourself just a bus ride to some pretty good Sunday affairs that have held up their traditions since kingdom come.
Kashgar's very own livestock market. After being unceremoniously dumped by the bus driver of car No.8, we walked a few steps to only pass a rickety wagon driver bellowing "Bazaar!" and 2 flimsy Yuan notes later, we found ourselves en route through some rustic country sides of wheat fields, corn and noisy geese crossing dusty bombed roads. Sometimes I think the reason there is a healthy flourish of dentists around town is the fact that getting a ride on one of these things is a teeth shattering event.
The livestock market is an unbelievable site. Initially we got to the wrong bazaar, a massive DIY second hand steel good market that felt like a walk on the wrong side of a mechanic's lab. But don't let this deter you - it's great fun even if it's just looking. Hubby is still getting heaps of attention especially when we talk about Pakistan (here, being so close to the Sino-Pakistan border) and then the men will stop him and offer him copious handshakes. With the sun rising above our heads we decided to sneak onto another teeth shattering machine to take us to the right market.
Off we go!
What an amazing place. I'm not sure if it was politically right to sit in front of a huge compound filled with men bargaining goats, sheep and cows, baby ones, pregnant ones, studs and harems that is just a few metres away from a line of shacks, bursting with wonderful smells and sounds.
You get the usual fare - mutton soup, mutton pies, savoury sour noodles and cardamon-saffron infused tea. Only better and the environment throws in a entirely new feel to the soul while you dig in. How can you beat sitting in some make-shift little tent with some odd Kashgar Rambo movie (dubbed badly with even worse English translation e.g. "the bitch kicked me in the private parts!", "I'm not sure if I have my sexual powers anymore!") with milky ice cream and sliced watermelon and sweetened prunes, apricots and the odd bleats of a baby goat.
It was unlike anything I've seen to date with respect to markets. The vendors and traders may not speak so much Mandarin, they may dressed slightly more modernly but somehow it's a real treat to just step back in time. You get to learn even a few Kashgar words of use. Sometimes people just shove some sultanas and sweets into your palm because you answered you're from Malaysia. Weird how at times religion binds and separates.
