Turpan – Xinjiang
A crucial oasis on the ancient Silk Road Turpan has served as a destination of revitalization for centuries. Today Turpan, Xinjiang, stands out as one of China’s rare authentic tourism destinations offering an unparalleled scenic, cultural & gastronomic experience in the Middle Kingdom.
Turpan Oasis
A few years ago I was privileged enough to travel with three close friends in a Beijing Jeep Cherokee around the northern half of Xinjiang hugging the borders of Mongolia, Russia and Kazakhstan, an epic short journey in itself. I was to find myself somewhat jealous later on however when upon returning to Beijing I heard from the remainder of the group that a trip to an oasis town known as Turpan was the crowning highlight of a three month odyssey of China’s western territories, a ‘must see in one’s lifetime destination’. By pure chance a dear friend from adolescent times recently came to Beijing for a visit and wondered where we could get off the beaten track for a few days in August, coincidentally harvest season in Turpan and thus the ideal time to travel in the region.
Boarding a plane from Beijing to Urumqi (round trip RMB2,800), Xinjiang’s capital, was simple enough but for some reason we were of the opinion that the simplest way to get to Turpan would be by train rather than by bus. Snaking through the capital’s streets to the train station in a taxi it started to become apparent the level of security measures put in place since rioting a few months prior between indigenous ethnic Uyghurs and Han Chinese and the current rumours of syringe needle stabbings propagated through every conceivable communications channel. While the shotgun slinging security personnel inevitably slowed ticket sales and train boarding traffic down the cute look of little boys trying to act tough was sufficient compensation in amusement, perhaps less so for bearded locals however. Surprisingly still hungry after yet another ‘meal’ on a domestic Chinese airline route, with train tickets in hand we hopped back into a taxi with the main bazaar in mind for some mouth watering cuisine until our train departure.
The drive to the bazaar was eerie yet familiar in the sense that I had not seen so many military vehicles, road blocks, trigger happy looking soldiers with assault rifles since as a child in apartheid South Africa when the liberation movements caught on to regularly bombing fast food restaurants and freedom frustrated locals stoning cars on the highway. What I had not seen before however were infantry soldiers fully clad in what I can only imagine to be the most excessive body armour seen since the Crusades blocking off all routes to and from the Bazaar. A hasty plan B was concocted with the driver and before we knew it we were seated in a relaxing Uyghur restaurant with lamb skewers abound…our holiday as we had intended had officially begun.
The train journey, in our minds the supposed quickest way, took us to Doheyon in just under two hours, sufficient time to try out several of the local Wusu beers. Doheyon, or at least the immediate area around Doheyon, can be described as little other than a dump. With the afternoon fading into evening we were perturbed by the thought of having to spend a night in such a charming place. Thankfully we were soon to catch an extremely cheap mini-bus ride to Turpan itself, along a long, dry and dusty road in serious need of repair. Even out here, seemingly nowhere, I was taken aback once again by local students wanting to practice their English on communally shared transport. As evening was starting to set in we finally arrived in Turpan’s centre, a whole day of journeying from Beijing was coming to an end signalling the start of an unforgettable holiday.
Turpan Oasis
Turpan, Tulufan in Chinese (吐魯番), is about 150 km southeast of Urumqi situated on the northern edge of the Turpan Basin and is inhabited by Uyghur, Han Chinese and Hui peoples. A local informed me that due to historic reasons even the Uyghurs can be differentiated from one another on physical appearances and geographic location. Historically the Mongolian’s had great sway over the Turpan region, whilst the northwest city of Yining (伊宁), or Ghulja in Uyghur, was under Russian/Kazakh genetic influence whilst south western Kashgar locals have purer Uyghur appearances. Following the Dead Sea, the Turpan Basin is the world’s second lowest depression in the world which makes for sweltering yet comfortable dry heat in the summer averaging above 40˚C. Turpan is a fertile grape growing oasis that has played an important role in the history of the Silk Road and for travellers not accustomed to oasis’ it serves as a source of fascination as to how an entire valley can be covered in terraced grape wines while a few meters away absolutely nothing, I reiterate, nothing, grows.
After some local enquiries we booked into the Turpan Hotel, an older establishment that clearly caters more to the greyer haired western group coach tourists but at a discounted price of RMB180 for a doubles room. The young staff were friendly enough to laugh at my jokes and the rooms were basic enough for two undiscerning guests. After a short walk around the hotel premises including an impressive walkway under a canopy of ripe grapes we enjoyed a few beers before heading back towards the town centre to enjoy some night market food. For my London based friend the night food market proved to be more enjoyable than for a geek in an Apple store. Freshly made Zhua Fan (抓饭, Pilaf of rice, carrots, lamb and raisins, (RMB15)), salads (RMB10), lamb skewers (RMB3 each), lamb chops (RMB18) and a delicacy well known in South Africa, ‘smiley’s’ (barbequed sheep’s head including the teeth giving the appearance of it smiling) washed down with additional bottles of Wusu and non-alcoholic Kvass (Russian beverage made from hops and honey) reinforced the already apparent knowledge that this holiday would be defined by eating as much as humanly possible. Following dinner we set about to find some nightlife but security concerns ensured that we would not find a lively drinking establishment.
Jiaohe Ruins
After breakfast at the hotel’s outdoor coffee shop under a cover of vines we set out for the Jiaohe Ruins (‘where two rivers meet’) which according to Wikipedia served as the capital of the Anterior Jushi Kingdom from 108 BC to 450 AD and therefore strategically situated along the ancient Silk Road. A vital western territories garrison for the Chinese military command in the sixth century AD it temporarily became the Jiaohe prefecture of the Uyghur Khaganate in the 9th century AD. The city, the ruins of which the Chinese government have applied for UN World Heritage status, was eventually destroyed and forced abandonment by Genghis Khan’s invading horde. Today visitors can still marvel at the natural defences of the city built on an islet protected by steep cliffs. The buildings and Buddhist temple walls were dug from earth and remain astonishingly well preserved considering its destruction seven centuries ago. The ruins lie 10 kilometres west of Turpan.
Suleiman’s Minaret
Next stop on our tourist checklist was Suleiman’s Minaret, also known as Emin Minaret or Sugong Ta (苏公塔) in Chinese. The minaret, 44 meters high with a base diameter of 10 meters, was built in the 1770’s by Prince Suleiman in honour of his father Prince Emin Khoja. Flanked by a mosque with exquisite interior solid wooden structures and articulate designs one can only expect from Islamic craftsmen, the minaret located a mere two kilometers east of Turpan is a must see attraction. If not convinced, the structure is the biggest minaret in Xinjiang, and apparently the only dated Islamic minaret in the whole of China.
Turpan Bazaar
Famished by a whole half day of sightseeing we hopped into a taxi and requested our kind driver to take us to the best lamb meat restaurant in Turpan. To my shock and horror the taxi screeched to halt outside your average dime-a-dozen Chinese restaurant. I was in no mood for this, but my friend, unaccustomed to eating Chinese food on a daily basis, suggested we give it a try, and to my astonishment the boiled lamb (less than US$10) we ordered, enough to feed the entire restaurant staff entourage giddy with excitement at the foreigners frequenting their establishment for a few days, was nothing less than delicious. A couple of Wusu’s for the road and before you can say gan bei (‘cheers!’) we were at the main Turpan bazaar haggling with pretty Xinjiang ladies over the price of locally produced raisins. The tremendous security crack down also forced local shopkeepers to act in a rather cloak and dagger manner when I enquired about another famous Xinjiang product, excellent quality steel knives. As per usual the proprietors were more interested in selling us ludicrously priced carpets, and I have to admit that I almost fell for it, but my friend and I agreed that they dropped the ball by sending the main negotiator out to get another sample creating a window of opportunity to make our escape. Young students from other parts of Xinjiang proved to be particularly friendly especially considering the strange request of writing down for us the names of 
Uighur CD’s we should purchase to take home, but despite the natural jokes the local shopkeepers made between us two foreign guys and the local princesses, the Nazi salute from one shop owner was a tad beyond even our dark sense of humour. The bazaar is awash with every conceivable type of raisin on earth and you get a hint of ancient times with displays of rich spices, tobacco’s (locals smoke a Moheyan variety, tobacco with some herb flavouring giving it a very exotic taste, expertly hand rolled with papers in seconds) tea’s and gems (although thoroughly kitsch, bling, which ever you prefer). Carcass upon carcass of slaughtered lambs, the sweetest melons you will ever savor, and yet more prepared food, dumplings crafted with pumpkin and spiced with cinnamon, lamb skewers seasoned with cumin and chili powder, Xinjiang salads with local vinegar, freshly baked Naan, the sweetest fig jams and piping hot rose scented tea to cool you down in the 46 degree heat, all to the beat of Uighur pop blasting from distant speakers.
With the tourist checklist all clicked we headed off the following morning to Putao Gou (葡萄沟, Grape Valley) by taxi (RMB20). Snaking through the under-construction roads with an objective of higher tourist arrivals when security concerns diminish, it is difficult to contain ones excitement over glimpses into private household courtyards behind half closed ornament gates and tastefully decorated walls overshadowed by lush vegetation. Our first stop was the ever familiar Chinese government official tourism park divided by a stunning fast running sapphire watered canal, trellised grape vines with literally tons of grapes dangling above your head, a beautiful wooden bridge but lacking on all accounts in authenticity with overzealous cement paving and regurgitated tourist trinkets to be found at every tourism spot in China. The lack of authenticity was more than compensated for however with the sweetest, probably the first and the best, freshly squeezed white grape juice these two men of wine region origin have ever downed in their lives. Just in case our taste buds where playing ticks on us, we sampled another, and another.
Farmer's compound
Following a lunch of lamb skewers washed down with awful tasting locally produced red wine customarily seated cross-legged on a carpet covered elevated platform around a low table the proprietor provided us with the contact details of a nearby family that run a local ‘guest house’. Despite numerous claims in the town centre that there was no accommodation to be had in the vineyard valley of Putao Gou one phone call proved that one can almost always find unofficial accommodation anywhere on earth, Xinjiang being no exception. The family’s one son showed us to the family house with a spare room (RMB50 for the both of us) on the main road and yet again I was blown away by the simple yet aesthetically agreeable ornamented courtyard main gate, funky painted walls, the overall dwelling architecture and mud wall built drying out-house rooms to assist in the drying of harvested grapes
Open air restaurant
into commercially viable export raisins. We were next led down into the valley to the family’s open air restaurant
hidden under the canopy of vines. The numerous photo’s of China’s Tsars of past, Deng Xiaoping and Jiang Zeming, that welcome you to the then empty restaurant reminds one of more prosperous tourist times when cash rich Han Chinese visitors must have been greeted with warmth to enjoy local cuisine and refreshments under the comforting shade. Although having reserved a room in the family house further up on the road, this open air establishment was to serve as our courtyard, our kitchen, our
library and even our bedroom for the next three days, a sanctuary of serenity and solace, it proved difficult to move more than a few meters for the remainder of our time in Putao Gou.
In the evening destiny took control with of a local Uighur by the name of Aila who picked up the two hitch hiking foreigners and treated us with a visit to his family’s courtyard compound. Aili’s father, a respectable looking gentleman, immediately welcomed the two South Africans with freshly washed grapes and cut-up a watermelon in honour of our visit. With conversation conducted in Mandarin (all communication in Xinjiang was conducted in Mandarin) and asked what the old man thought of current social upheavals and the sensitive topic of the history of Uighur-Han relations the gentleman was sincere in his view that all everyone one wished for was peaceful co-existence. In the rural areas things were simple the gentleman continued, the Uighur farmers work hard to secure a good harvest, and they in turn rely on the Han Chinese to sell their harvest, which the Han actively promote, they rely on one another so both are hurt through social upheavals that nobody, but a small fraction of mischievous urban individuals, pursue.
Uighur kids
The following day Aila introduced us to two of his friends at one of their similarly arranged open air restaurants. The proprietor, Pragtar, a handsome and strong Uighur from the south, proved to be an excellent chef and as a consequence we were treated to excellent dishes including pasta’s (chaomianpian), salads and chicken (dapanji) based dishes to serve as a rare alternative to our lamb diet. The other friend, Mohammed, a Mongol looking individual, proved to be an inspired communicator who sacrificed much of his free time to entertain and teach us about the region and their lives. No less important Mohammed led us up the opposite side of the valley to an incredible water canal cut into the mountain, one of the sources of the fertile valley. One cannot exaggerate the escaping enjoyment of jumping into the cooling water in 46 degree heat, an experience that served as the cherry on the top of our holiday in Putao Gou. But mere swimming in the water canal was not enough for two guys who grew up in similarly natural surroundings and accordingly we headed back to the town the next day to purchase two old car tire tubes and pumped them up for some water canal tubing. Starting off from our relatively calm swimming spot we started drifting down the canal on our tubes filled with excitement. After a few moments however it became clear that the current started pushing us harder and faster down the valley. Had we explored the lower reaches of the canal before we jumped on the tubes? Were we
Water canal
confident that the canal, which was now at racing speed, did not end with a twenty meter drop waterfall? What other conceivable dangers were awaiting us further down this water autobahn? In the end we decided to not tempt fate and bailed from our improvised rafts sustaining only minor cuts and bruises fighting our way back onto dry earth.
Leaving Putao Gou was depressing feeling knowing that in a few hours I would be back in the grey metropolis of Beijing where the heat feels microwaved and the lamb skewers taste like dodgy donkey meat. Turpan is without doubt the coolest place I have visited in China and I will relish any opportunity to return again in the future. For those in search of an unforgettable authentic and cultural tourism experience in China I highly recommend Turpan, before central planning cement pavers make it that far west.
