To the friend with whom I watched Daytime Drinking:
I wonder if you remember the adventures of the protagonist Hyuk-jin, even though we saw it ... well, I'm sure it was at last year's SIFF.
He'd just broken up with his girlfriend and was somehow convinced by his friends to take a trip out to the Korean countryside as a sort of consolation. Only his friends never show up. What follows is a strange sequence of events, where he meets all the characters the countryside apparently has to offer, and in the process has everything taken from him. Except his underpants, it seems.
I remember, in particular, this bit where he gets picked up by a man driving by in a sort of pick-up truck. The man thought he is one of those runners who train up in the hills during the summer, wearing only their shorts. Except it's not summer.
It's a great relief, when you're in a bind in unfamiliar territory, to receive help from a kind stranger. But this can all go very wrong if the stranger turns out to be kind for a reason. The bit where the kind stranger tries to join him in the shower and later, hug him while he's asleep had me squirming in my seat.
It was an anxiety-inducing reminder of the beginning of my trip to Xinjiang (almost 2 years ago now). I'd been waiting by the side of the road for a bus away from Sayram Lake 塞里木湖 in the Tian Shan range. But a storm started to roll in, so I got my umbrella out. It didn't actually provide much protection against the biting wind.
Shortly after, a Kazakh man rolled up on a motorcycle. He offered to give me a ride to some shelter, but I declined. But then he said storms usually last quite long and I would get wet, so (assuming locals know best) I reluctantly agreed. We drove to a little farm shed where he appeared to have misplaced his keys.
Within minutes of our arrival, the storm blew over. So I begun to make my way back to the main road, which wasn't far off. The man, still trying to locate his keys, called after me, 'Wait, I'll get this door open in a minute! You can change your wet clothes in there!'
I wasn't even particularly wet.
Unfortunately for him, I already had my guard up (but apparently still not enough) because the day before had been a terrible day.
I'd arrived by bus, and within minutes, was surrounded by Kazakhs. They want to know if I am staying the night. Then, a Chinese old lady grabbed me by the arm and tried to drag me away, claiming I am a relative. Soon, she is joined by several other Chinese. Bewildered, I resist and an argument starts up between the Kazakhs and the Chinese. The Chinese group is made to leave after it is ascertained that I am not related to them. (Think back to this incident again when the story ends.)
That's when the different Kazakhs start trying to convince me that their place was the best place to stay. Keen to get away from the crowd, I chose a yurt a little further away from the main cluster. It belongs to a large family comprising a set of grandparents, parents and a flock of children, mostly in their teens.
To cut a long story short, one of these teens convinced me to take a horse ride up a nearby hill for something like 5 bucks. Along the way, he squeezed into the saddle behind me. This wasn't pleasant, but I had no idea if it was the norm for 2 people to ride in one saddle.
When we reached the top of the hill, this boy tries to put his arms around me. I manage to escape his clutches, but he grabs my arm. I demanded he let go and he eventually did. Needless to say, I walked back to the camp.
After that incident, spending the night in the family's yurt wasn't a pleasant prospect. This structure is really just a large glorified tent made of animal skins. It simply smells bad. And the covers and bedding smell bad too because they are not only unwashed, they are generally placed in a stack to be used at night by random members of the family - who do not shower. Plus, like any tent, the doors do not lock. I did not sleep well.
When I recounted this story to a friend back in the capital, he said, 'You should've told me, I know some of those people and they are wild.' Not really the best way to find out he hadn't been reading the blog.
To end - y'know how the mantra goes about living without regrets? I reckon, in life, there'll always be times when you wish you could go back and somehow, make better choices. Assuming different choices will lead you to happier endings.
Doubtfully yours, !P
CORRECTION! I previously referred to the people living there as Uighurs. But I had a nagging feeling it wasn't accurate so I did some research and it turns out the ethnic minority living in that particular region are the Kazakhs, a Turkic people from the northern parts of Central Asia who were initially of pure Caucasian origin.
