M-whY

Gone were any traces of farmland. In its place were acres of desert vegetation. Flocks of sheep in the distance looked like little white pills, herds of cattle reminded me of steak. A range of foothills to both our left and right guided us west northwest. Through this corridor, Silk Road traders of centuries ago inevitable filed through. It was a simple matter of geography - the alternatives were waterless deserts to the north or the Tibetan plateau to the south.

The scenery didn't change very much. Occasionally a pocket of land which people had made tillable, but those were few and far in between. Our caravan slowed down whenever we passed workers repairing the tracks, delaying us, but only by half an hour. Further eating up time were stops at seemingly every town along the way. Through the train windows, the outposts all looked the same. Dusty, uninviting, and probably a shell of their glory days. During the break at Zhangye, I got off to stretch and pick up a boxed lunch. Marco Polo once spent a year in this important hub; I spent all of seven minutes.

Eventually, I climbed back into my upper bunk for a nap. The scenery was monotonous, and there was no point in sitting vigilantly next to the window looking for something new. The monkeys too became worn out from their play, and all of the sudden it was loads quieter as they, one by one, fell asleep. An attendant woke me up in the midafternoon and informed me my stop, Jiayuguan, was approaching. I gathered my things and got ready to get off.

I'm not sure what possessed people to build a city all the way out here (natural resouces? tourism?), but whatever the reason, they did a commendable job. On the surface, it looked like what you might find in any Chinese city. A Bank of China around the corner, a department store, clothing shop after clothing shop. Perhaps the only superficial difference was a noticeable lack of cars on the streets.

Learning from the past, I made it my first mission to book my train out. My biggest worry was that everything would be booked (my guidebook mentioned train tickets could be difficult to come by), and I wouldn't be reach Beijing in time to catch my Trans-Mongolian train. Fortunately, there were still plenty available, though the sticker price was a shock. 641 yuan, almost US$80, reminding me just how far out I really am.

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