....................................................................... Hello. "Yakshimojiz ." Gosh, it's the most uncomfortable thing when someone cries when we part ways. And that's what Lulu did when we parted in the Turpan Basin. We both had a pleasant journey and it was time for me to continue on alone and for her to fly home but at the very last moment upon boarding the bus, she started to sob as she waved, and after a few interminable minutes of sniffle-waving, ran back down to embrace me. " Thank you so much for treating me to this experience. It...changed my life..." By now my shoulder was moist with her tears, so I reached for a tissue, " Nobody has been this kind before, not my parents, not my friends, and I just met you,"--and then it dawned upon me what I had inadvertently done. You see, for me, I simply invited a travel buddy and paid for her expenses in exchange for the company. For her, it was her coming-of-age and independence, and by inciting her to a two-girl journey all the way to remote Pakistan's borders in the Pamir Mountains meeting friends along the way... I had sown the seeds of discovery and self-reliance into someone who grew up in the Guangdong that said she was worth nothing. I didn't have to say "girls can do anything they want." She knew. ....................................................................... Actually, I can't help thinking about this as I type from the waiting terminal in Incheon International Airport in South Korea, where I'm finally indulging in real clam chowder. Mmm…so creamy and thick…so good. And usually, it doesn't matter which carrier I take, but Asiana Airlines has such soft blankets and free toiletries and comfy socks, not to mention the most thoughtful and pretty attendants, that it makes me feel spoiled. And this is ultimately, I've concluded, a life of privilege and if others can share or come along, why not? While my email is meant to chronicle Xinjiang, (a.k.a. Eastern Turkistan, Uyghurstan) the vast desert region that was raided and owned by China, it's just taken me a while to finish the photos/captions, because it's a decently good batch. At least, it captures how I felt about the entire trip and brings back memories of people I've met along the way. It's a good thing I only write to you about developing countries, because sometimes my life feels like it ricochets in so many directions. But since I'm sitting here, I'll jot a few thoughts on the Korean peninsula too. And just to add something new, I've linked some videos especially for you. http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AYtmzFm3cuGNN http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AYtmzFm3cuGNchttp://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AYtmzFm3cuGNvSo before I bring you into the deep oasis of the Taklamakan Desert... here 3,000 miles into the Pacific Rim...in South Korea, everything is so disorienting but alive, it just smells like culture shock. It's like a pulsating modern combustion, raucous and yet decidedly not the destitute war-torn country it had been fifty years ago. As you may know, Seoul is now the world's 3rd most expensive city and it's unsettling for me, having come from the renminbi to the won to witnessing how Westernized it has become. Unlike Taiwan, Japan or China, whose cultures are embedded in Confucianism and pictograph characters, the Korean language is Altaic and written phonetically in Hangul so I can't understand anything. [Maybe. I barely managed with—"yabaseo…anyeong hashimnikka… nae, anyeong haseyo?... Nalshiga chosimnida…Nae, tambeko juseyo. Anyeonghi kaseyo "—or— "Hello? How are you? Fine, and you? Good weather today. Yep, stop smoking. Goodbye."] ...but anyway, luckily many Koreans speak fluent English, just like Sun and Jin do, on TV's most riveting documentary ever, "Lost." :-)My other impression is that... dude, I have an idea!! Maybe instead of the crossing the Rio Grande into the United States...Mexicans should just... y'know, go the extra mile and illegally immigrate to Korea instead, since it's a great country full of opportunities too. 'Cuz it's perfectly acceptable to get drunk on hard liquor, smoke two packs a day, and be kinda racist, sexist and homophobic. Both cultures cook spicy food that makes your saliva scream in terror, too. That way the güero-hating-chilangos wouldn't have to deal with us pinche-puto-pendejo-culero-esos-estadounidenses-chingada-madre-que-coman-mierda-y -púdranse-en-el-infierno-güey—or some compound word like that. (Just kidding. Love you, Mexico.)....................................................................... OK. Back to Eastern TurkistanXinjiang is a dirt-poor region inside the borders of China, literally, in terms of how people survive and what hardships they endure. It's mostly a bleak desert where extreme temperatures range from -40*C to 40*C and in addition to living modestly in mudbrick holes, there isn't a lot of anything but daunting history. But you'll never hear about that. No... for the undefeated championship title of being the poorest province in China, the province has first to be considered veritably Chinese; but alas all those pesky Uighur minorities they conquered are living on that territory. (Haven't you heard of how barbaric they are? Everyone knows that Uighurs chop off people's hands with Alibaba cleavers, when they're not lying, stealing or looting.) And since underneath the bedrock are rich repositories of crude oil and natural gas, and since Xinjiang is a cozy place to test nuclear bombs, and our Han cronies seem to prosper over there, hey-hey Xinjiang can't possibly be that poor. So, in China, the official title of bitter poverty goes to the lush green paddies of Guizhou. Or the thick jungles of Yunnan...because those people are currency-poor. And that's where all the philanthropists go. (It's like how Americans ignore Native Alaskan Eskimos, because hey, there's so much crude oil underneath the frozen expanse and our Americans seem to do well enough, so let's believe the Appalachia are the poorest instead. Besides, those aborigines like to live in igloos and bludgeoning seals, right? Right?) Anyway. If there's something annoying that people do, it's to label places "impoverished" inconsistently, and plead sympathy through self-victimization and pity pictures. Like when Hong Kongers moan that they're just a poor little territory. Yeah right. I don't even wanna hear about how hard it is to be native Hawaiians or the hard-knock life of being New Zealand Samoan because they can't afford tuition. If you had to look at hard reality and compare survival conditions between barren desert where nomads can barely eke by (even if you threw money at them,) versus luxuriant volcanic-enriched ecosystems where the urban poor simply don't have cash---no duh, I'd rather be "broke" on fertile terrain. ....................................................................... For being a Silk Road kingdom that has been raped, pillaged and occupied, it still retains its Central Asian dignity through Islamic heritage and customs. Notions of earthy spaces wafts in the air. Cumin, tobacco, rosemary, and the slow-roasting of succulent lamb. The naan-ovens sizzle, burning as the flatbread is sprinkled with black sesame and anise. It's at least 40*C degrees (95*F) outside--microsands cyclone in the stifling air and I wear a veil to cover myself. One part Muslim decency, the other part pragmatic: veils cover the sun and sandstorm. The arrival of grid electricity hasn't necessarily brought lightbulbs nor stoves nor productivity--ha!--but is used mainly for freezers so that fruit popsicles are widely available and there are ice slushies for all. Praise you, Uigher priorities! Despite advisories of racial tension against the Han (or, people like me,) we received extraordinary welcome and hospitality. Although the predominant language, Uighur, is a Turkic tongue written in Arabic, there was enough written Chinese for us to gesticulate and everyone treated us like old family friends. Old women would accompany us to where we needed to go, locals offered us roasted eggs and savory mutton pitas, and many times, absolutely refused payment: we were the guest travelers and girls at that. In fact, they argued, why pay for accommodations when we could stay in their homes? This generosity happened despite the language barrier and my protests that as a salaried American, I had money I fully intended to disperse it to the local economy! So in spite of the fact that people were living on Y15 ($2) a day, (and that's only those few who had legitimate employment,) you can imagine the guilty burdens of friendship we carried throughout the desert: succulent watermelons, muskmelons, pomegranates, figs, walnuts, raisins, honeydews, and apricots, in plastic black baggies, which we would share with some other local passerby who had a pocket knife, who would again be our new friend.To the northeast, from the Turpan Basin of Korla and Dunhuang to Urumqi and Kuitun, the dramatic landscape flares into age-cracked sierras and sparse forest. It was a blend of Central Asian Sunni Islam, Taoist Buddhism, and Siberian folklore wisdom that offers so much legacy for so little expense. And though we enjoyed exploring with ear-splitting Indian-Kyrgyz-Uzbek pop remixes on the subwoofer, there were more than a few occasions of repressive tension: a [Uighur] law-enforcer halted our car and detained the local driver's license when bribery wasn't paid. Another Uighur taxi excused himself from taking us to the train station, saying that he was certain he'd be fined. The government's official excuse is self-protection against a separatist Mujahideen jihad, yet, when unchecked power is placed in the hands of ordinary mortals, pride and prejudice runs rampant . ....................................................................... From Kashgar to Karghilik to Hotan ... the oldest mud cities laid dispersed across the Taklamakan and they were eroded by centuries of sand. For days we'd journey through melancholy sand, sand, sand, because across 50,000 square kilometers you just get this humbling sense of how endlessly vast the Old World is. And traversing this on camelback with oriental wares? Now that's hardcore, and those olden merchants had stamina: bundles of decorated knives, trinkets of metal, hand-woven wool carpets, translucent pearl-white jade...a living history of seven thousand years. 'Impossible' was not in their vocabulary; their ancestors were the first to use rudimentary picks to dig a 5000-km karez waterworks matrix underneath searing bedrock to irrigate their oases with fresh springwater, (the Great Wall is 1000-km shorter.) If you've ever descended ten meters below the surface into one of these deep tunnel wells, and let the refreshing snowdrift glide between your fingertips, you'd feel compelled to believe this was a touchstone of human achievement. Sometimes it takes ingenuity in an obscure place like this to overcome that media-induced fear of the unknown, and really admire the Third World. You rely on your human gut instincts, contemplate the silence, let it go, let it melt, and allow the world uplift you again. As you reach the edge of China, like all transition of surreal landscapes, it ends abruptly, with one dry stream that seems misplaced, past one fig tree with a weary patch of dying grass, something you'd miss completely if you lulled to just one more song on the radio, and dramatically, from desert inferno we were suddenly in the icy Pamir Mountains on a two-lane Karakoram Highway toward Pakistan. It got briskly cold. We were only few hours drive--just over the horizon really---to Islamabad, Bishkek and Tashkent. At those coordinates we were geographically closer to Eastern Europe than Beijing, yet still in China. Here, the ger tents and woolen hats appeared, and Kazakh girls wore sequined red dresses, shaved their heads and connected their brows with pencil...because perfect unibrows were de rigueur beauty standards ever since Xiang Fei's mesmerizing eye brow [note: singular] entranced the emperor and became his nonpareil desert concubine. (Hey it's whatever his highness digs, different strokes for different folks.)Whatever it was that was so entrancing, Xinjiang possessed it. The Taklamakan's arid climes were a welcome shift from the disastrous floods ravaging the rest of the Asian continent, and there was just so much realness and humanity there. Deeply and intuitively, I felt transformed. Like an expansion into another dimension of who I already was. A little more worldly, a little more brazen, a little more ready to explore Central Asia on my own. ....................................................................... One mindblowing effect of staying in an unfamiliar culture is that you immerse yourself in a whole other subliminal filter of the world, where your host country becomes the new core. In China, for instance, it's common local knowledge that all the countries we've barely noticed are close neighbors ---Nepal, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Russia, Pakistan, Mongolia, North Korea, Vietnam, Laos, Bhutan, Thailand, and Myanmar. Then, once you learn these reference points in Chinese, and maybe all the currencies, these geographical names make a lot of sense. Many won't correspond to its Western nomenclature at all---China is zhongguo, (Central Nation,) Japan is riben (Nippon, Sun-Origin,) Tokyo is dongjing (Eastern Capital,) and North Korea is chaoxian (Joseon Kingdom,) etc. Conversely, places that seemed familiar when I was in the United States are now meaningless jargon: Rio de Janiero is pronounced liyuereneilu, Buenos Aires is buxuannuosiaili, and [*laughs*], Sacramento is sankuaimantou , literally: "three-steamed-buns"...and multiply by thousands of dimensions and you can imagine what adopting a radically different perspective does: Mental uppercut with a drop-kick-hassan-chop to the senses. ...Re-learning the world map in other languages altered my sense of the globe; it brought remote destinations into a tangible realness. For me, maps have always been promises of distant places I had never been before; that's why I collect them. Just like South America's La Paz and Santiago didn't root into my mental radar until I learned what it really meant in Spanish, so too... Hyderabad, Tashkent, and Dunshanbe simply failed to blip in my consciousness until now that I discover, holy cow, these are sprawling metropolises that are reachable! Just one more visa and I can do it! It's odd but they've just never registered before. It makes me so curious to what learning a Russian world map would be like. The sensation is like those RPG computer games, the next world remains a darkened space-holder until you pass the next level and actually enter that territory. After that, your sense of the universe irrevocably changes; you can't go back. Anyway, I'm also ruminating over the impact of having many perspectives because, while waiting in Shanghai Pudong Airport, there was a janitor woman who seemed like she could use a break, so I asked her to have some snacks and we talked a bit, albeit she stood three meters back. Her worldview was pretty focused and narrow. She came from a peasant family in Chongqing and was raising her son on a Y900 ($120) monthly salary and for three years sweeping floors she had never dared to speak to a passenger before, as we were "rich" and I guess for someone who considers meat as luxury, my life was pretty insane. What viewpoint she knew of Shanghai was through sharing a small room with twelve other workers and laboring in the terminal, and she said that in the one hour she conversed with me, she had learned more about the outside world than those three years. (Of course, her reluctance to come near me was later validated when I saw her co-workers harassing her about our exchange, and rather rudely affronted me about why I'd talk to her and the minutiae of our conversation...and anyway, I was so bothered about the class difference that some time later when I found her elsewhere, sweeping again, I furtively tucked a $100 into her palm. After all, she could use it better than I could, and I don't know...even though that happened days ago, I don't miss the money. It's like that Bantu concept ubuntu where a person becomes human through helping others. It's always been that way for me.) What I'm saying is, from whichever culture we grew up in, it's hard to fully recognize our rooted prejudices without immersing ourselves in opposite cultural values and operate with their language. Over in Mainland China, Fidel Castro and Kim Il-Jong don't seem that bad, the effect of online censorship is somewhat overrated, and Myanmar's military rule seems misunderstood...alright, they're not perfect democracies but neither are we... nor we...nor we...but many multinational companies fail miserably here and a lot of hit-TV series and chart-topping artists can't penetrate...and perhaps it's because they're not willing to undergo that humility that comes along with growth and understanding. ....................................................................... A few years of encountering a cross-section of humanity has helped me interact with all sorts of different people, and okay I'm not the smartest...or most socially-adroit...but I know what brings out the best in people just by making them feel important and respected, to appreciate them no matter their station in life. And it doesn't hurt to laugh once in a while; why has everyone become so serious? It never fails to amaze me how people I know forsake the simple stuff: a cold fresh-split watermelon moist across your nose and cheek as you spit seeds at the roadside with other people, and gulping a belly full of fruit before you climb onto the bus...and that's how simple friendship is formed: A single passenger sees a great bargain on fruit and accidentally-on-purpose buys too much, and obliges everyone to help out. Then, over apricot pits and torn napkins, we share personal stories, advice or debate. That's not to say there aren't rumors and crazy folks, like the guy who swore upon a monstrous Lochness-type creature brooding in the Altai Lakes, or the isolated Tu'er minority near Siberia who were so backwards from modernity that upon seeing a car, they fed it grass through the exhaust pipe. But you see, for most people, truth and logic are just technicalities, bonding friendship and laughter being of far greater priority...so that's how half-truths are spread...by craving the company of others. And because of the tenuous nature of camaraderie, I have always been accompanied even when I travel solo, and I have always gotten local prices or many things for free. You have to trust that there are potential friends waiting out there for you. Next time, I'm determined to cross the border intro Central Asia into Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan. ....................................................................... And this relates to letting random people unexpectedly enter your life, ...Because on my way back, something amazing happened: My original plan to go to Xi'an fell through and the only way home was through Lanzhou, a polluted metropolis whose role is much like 1850s-Chicago for industrializing America. Presently from Lanzhou, rail stretches in all directions deep into the country. I had fifteen hours to wait, and somewhere during the exploring nearby towns, there was an auspicious sign: I saw posters of "República de Angola" and "República de Moçambique" which was partly in Portuguese, detailing the Chinese development of road, rail and government buildings in the Dark Continent. I recalled a previous dinner, where nearby toasts were being made: "To Africa, and all our prosperity ." I thought it odd, especially considering China's contempt for developing countries. Later, at the train station waiting hall, I was charging my camera when a guy started conversing with me. (This happens often since people want to know how a girl can be so brave to travel alone.) Turns out, he was on the same outbound train compartment, and worked for Lanzhou International Rail. From him, I understood that China now plans to win the billion-dollar bid to link Angola's national rails into Namibia and Zambia and Mozambique...from the Atlantic to Indian Ocean...that industrial interpreters were impossible to find...that if I could interpret Portuguese-English-Mandarin for the negotiations, that this would help create 100,000+ jobs and build key infrastructure for a developing region. What intrigued him most about me was this: my American passport allowed me more flexible entry into Africa, and at home, I had the environment to practice language and could do so cheaply. What a good opportunity to return to California and enroll in Portuguese, or perhaps visit my host family in Salvador, Brazil. We exchanged cards. We didn't discuss compensation, as he implied it was generous, but what really excited me was that this was precisely aligned with my values and with who I am at the core: utilize appropriate technology in Third World countries, use languages, strengthen China's economy, sponsored safari across Africa, understanding abject poverty and political situations, and most of all, an interpreting project that I can be really proud of. If my niche is to aid China's penetration into Latin America and Africa through industry, open up thousands of job opportunities for people...then cool. OK fine, at the end of the day, it's just iron laid across foreign topography. But was the Transcontinental Railroad really just metal for late-1800s America? Would the Lanzhou International Rail be any other firm if its present-day role in modern Asian history produces the Charles Schwabs and the Andrew Carnegies? In light of this, I am considering the possibility of forgoing a salary for a percentage stake ownership in these negotiations. How many 25-year-olds can claim to help usher in African transport? ....................................................................... The Journey To Southern Africa I thought about life and why these things happen. And I've concluded that the world is full of unforeseen opportunities for each of us, but life requires you to rigorously prepare for them. We all need discipline and solid habits so that when chance-encounters arise, you become a fitting candidate. So put yourself out there, take public transport, go on buses or bikes or donkeys, because you never know who's bobbing on that camel in front of you. Be nice. That's how you encounter new ideas and friends and experiences. Nothing of value is handed easily, and I have to fight inertia too. There are plenty of days that are ordinary in my life. It takes effort to build momentum and psyche myself at dawn to walk ten kilometers; prepare my wardrobe; keep photographing and brainstorming; keep being aware of my present surroundings and cataloging the sensory experiences, keep planning as if something just might occur tomorrow. Occasionally, Peter and I evaluate how our financial assets are doing too. It's a lot of grunt maintenance, otherwise you can't healthily sustain the energy through dozens of developing regions with young fresh eyes. It's the geek part of me that I don't advertise openly, but during these trips I wake up at 5:00am and work pretty hard. I am compulsively jotting ideas, washing and refolding my clothes, scrubbing my shoes with a toothbrush, checking email and charging four things to prepare for the next day. I'm in bed by 11:30pm; I tell you I'm a nerd! I still don't drink or smoke. Consequently, I think, upon meeting someone new, they recognize a person who isn't haggard from the exhausting toll of developing countries , and a person who really wants to make the world better. It stands out when a person who has something intriguing to say, in addition to organized photographs or useful compiled information and useful advice. All of that takes preparation work and also a positive support system of family and friends, so, sincere appreciation and thanks for everything.Perhaps the greatest key is to genuinely love and accept yourself, like: "I'm going try hard and do it well because my dreams merit a fighting chance." I say do it because it's an expression of who you are. I couldn't have foreseen that taking Portuguese would give me such an advantage in China; it was the learning process that engaged me. Put in all the groundwork during those dull days without expecting a payoff, and let the possibilities unfold, and trust that they will. Then, give yourself permission to deserve that role. Deep down, I still think point of having an unusual life is to have crazy stories to tell your grandchildren. It makes me smile to one day be able to say all the stuff I've done. Anyway, I just simply wrote this email, hopefully to brighten up your mood today. Because life is like a box of chocolates...the rich minty milk chocolate with hazelnut truffle kind. H'yard'hosh and see you soon,Victoria Tai---------------------------------------- Dedicating summer wishes to: Tab, the only woman I know who collects Salvador Dali, your comeback is nothing less than extraordinary. Ry, to whom I send a jillion songs, you're remarkable and a fearless survivor of anything! And Piotrek, have a memorable birthday---ja kocham cie. Less