sofasurfers

The Inpenetrable Pumpkin

And so onto dinner, where I was guest of honour (the name of the
restaurant? Fabulous Guest!). No speeches – just 10 dishes including
my first Peking Duck, all for just £2.30 each. As guest of honour,
the dishes arrive in front of you before anyone else. It totally foils
me – previously I’ve slyly waited for others to start strange dishes
to see quite how they negotiate them. Here I had to work out for
myself how to tackle a closed pumpkin with just a pair of chopsticks,
for example. And then onto the Irish/Kiwi bar again for me to be
handed over like an unwanted orphan from the old people into the fresh
hands of the young. And then onto a club called Armani – sadly this
one had to be a private joke between me and me, but what a joke it
was: Scottish whisky made in China mixed with green tea that was
downed in one, which had the curious effect of transforming my
chaperones into jiggling, shimmying, routine-loving boyband dancers.
And then, finally, exhaustedly (having arrived in Urumqi at 7am that
morning), I was dropped home by “Mr BMW” (for obvious reasons), to a
blow-up mattress in the living room and a date the next day to be
escorted to the oasis of Turpan, a historic Silk Road town and nearest
drop-off to the desert city ruins of Jiaohe. And so to sleep? Not
likely when there are days like these to process through in my mind
(so let me get this straight: I arrived, I couldn’t make my host
smile, he left me, I had to make this speech…). It takes hours to
unwind, and just as I do it’s time to wake up. And for some reason,
every day seems to be a day like this.

Amarni