Nudity

It appears to be a potentially scintillating, titillating topic of conversation.

Especially with a member of the opposite sex (or whoever rocks your boat) and a relatively dishy one, at that.

But even more so if it's not carried out face-to-face, where even if you become a red-faced stuttering fool, no one knows.

I found myself in such an on-screen conversation one day, with a person of interest from a part-time job back in China.

We were simply extolling the joys of not having flat-mates, until it was revealed that he liked to walk around his apartment in the buff.

Then came the question, 'Don't you?'

Did I take two years of sewing classes because I enjoy lounging around unclothed? I think not.

I didn't phrase my answer quite in that conversation-killing way, but it was still somehow doomed. I tried, I really did. I talked about a friend who also liked lounge with not a stitch of clothing on around the flat she shared with her partner. I talked about nude colonies. I talked about how nudity must be difficult in winter, peeping neighbours, all to no avail -- it's not even funny how bland the conversation was.

Disappointingly, pretty much all conversations with this person of interest turned out to be bland, inadvertently proving that looks aren't everything after all.

But in all fairness, nudity isn't all it's cracked up to be. Having lived and travelled in East Asia, I've seen, and been seen by more naked people than I can remember or count. And they come in all ages, shapes and sizes.

It's mundane. You take off your clothes, take a shower, put them back on. You take off your clothes, get into the sauna, get a massage, put them back on. You take off your clothes, shower, jump into the hot pool, jump into the cold pool, rinse, put them back on.

The naked people chat as they shower. Naked children swim and splash in the hot spring water. In the sauna, there's nothing much to see beyond the condensation in the air; and vision is limited during a massage.

Except at a certain spa chain in the Xinjiang capital of Urumqi.

I'd been recommended the well-known local spa centre by a middle-aged cleaning lady at the youth hostel. It turned out to be one of those bath house kind of places people go to to lounge around in identical t-shirt-and-shorts ensembles. Like those you see in Korean dramas sometimes.

That was the general impression, until I found myself in a robe inside a red room. It contained a double bed, covered with red silk sheets and pillows, facing a mirror wall. There was also a large television and other furniture. Only one word to call this -- parlour.

Then the masseuse arrived clad in a brocade cheongsam micro-mini dress.

I began to suspect the massages are a service used predominantly by men. It was, in any case, the oddest massage I've ever encountered.

Besides the usual kneading, she folded and stretched my limbs into yoga-like poses. And thanks to the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I am able to report that some of these look like really bizarre sex acts.

So I can now safely say that I'll be sticking to the conventional spas involving soothing new age music, aromatic oils and a massage bed that limits the vision, thankyouverymuch.

Pictures

Geepers, I've been lazy with the blogging lately.

I'd planned to regale you with some Xinjiang travel tales, y'know?

But ... soon, I will. 

Meanwhile, go see the pictures!

Xinjiang, China

Osaka & Kyoto, Japan | Nara, Kobe & Himeji, Japan | Shikoku, Japan | Yokohama & Tokyo, Japan

The Great Escapade I

I have a cunning plan.

Having tendered my resignation, time is now well spent plotting my escape via Xinjiang (or s'posedly the "New Frontier") in northwestern China over approximately 15 days (or what time's left on my Chinese visa). Much of this time will be spent on buses, since the rail tracks neither cross the Taklamakan Desert nor go over the Tian Shan range.

. . .

To heighten your appreciation, a little background on Xinjiang, courtesy of Wikipedia, our favourite non-official source of information! (Alas! I would also have included a map, but couldn't locate a suitable one.)

Xinjiang 新疆 is an autonomous region (Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region) of the People's Republic of China. It was militarily captured and annexed by China and is a large, sparsely populated area (spanning over 1.6 million sq. km) which takes up about one sixth of the country's territory. Xinjiang borders the Tibet Autonomous Region to the south and Qinghai and Gansu provinces to the southeast, Mongolia to the east, Russia to the north, and Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, and the Pakistan- and India-controlled parts of Kashmir to the west.

It is divided into two basins by Mount Tianshan. Dzungarian Basin is in the north, and Tarim Basin is in the south. Xinjiang's lowest point is the Turfan Depression, 155 metres below sea level (lowest point in the PRC as well). Its highest peak, K2, is 8611 metres above sea level, on the border with Kashmir.The Tian Shan mountain range marks the Xinjiang-Kyrgyzstan border at the Torugart Pass (3752 m). The Karakorum highway (KKH) links Islamabad, Pakistan with Kashgar over the Khunjerab Pass.

. . .

It should begin innocuously enough with a 4-hour flight into Xinjiang's captial, Ürümqi 乌鲁木齐. The largest city in the western half of China, Ürümqi has won a place in the Guinness Book of Records as the most remote city from any sea in the world. Four hours later, we'll be on a west-ward flight bound for Yining near the Kazakhstan border. A "leafy and friendly" city, says Lonely Planet.

Granted, all that flying detracts from my usual mode-of-travel, but time is short and the fastest train to Ürümqi will plod along for all of 40 hours and 6 minutes, not to mention only save me a paltry Y104 on a soft sleeper. Most importantly, energy needs to be conserved.

While in Yining 伊宁, my backpack and I are going 120 kilometres north into the Tian Shan range to see the Sayram Lake 塞里木湖, "especially colourful during June and July, when alpine flowers blanket the ground". If the alpine flowers bit fails, we will at least get to spend the night in a Kazakh yurt near the lake. Maybe.

The actual reason we're going to Yining is to sit in a bus, bound for Kuqa 库车, for 24 hours. This course of action is based solely on LP's "spectacular trip crossing the Tian Shan range" description. If the spectacular bit fails, we will at least get to see, mid-way, a Mongolian village-closed-to-foreigners called Bayanbulak.

Although once an oasis on the Silk Road, apparently not much to see in Kuqa, so we will promptly get on with a 9-hour train journey heading west for Kashgar 喀什, sited west of the Taklamakan Desert at the feet of the Tian Shan mountain range. Kashgar is home to an important Muslim community (Uyghurs). The area does not have the same high level of Han Chinese immigration as does Ürümqi.

Lots to do in Kashgar! A lively Sunday Market and Livestock Market, mosques, tombs, ruins and Uighur food at the night market ("bring your own fork")!

And, "if you'd like to see the Karakoram Hwy 中巴公路, Karakul Lake, a glittering mirror of glacial peaks, makes for a good destination". That's where we're headed, then. The Karakorum Hwy, gateway to Pakistan, is a centuries-old route used by caravans going down the Silk Road, passing through "high mountain pastures with grazing camels and yaks". If the camels and yaks fail to make an appearance, we will at least get to spend the night in a Kazakh yurt near the lake. Second attempt to, anyway.

(The Kite Runner movie was filmed in Kashgar! Haven't seen it, but it's an excellent novel, read it and ... at least sniffle?)

A few days in Kashgar and it's off to Hotan 和田, another 9-hour journey possibly split into two parts by way of the old town of Karghilik on the Silk Road. Hotan is included in this escapade, again, because of a bus ride. This ride, lasting 15 hours, plods 500 kilometres on a highway through a "rippling ocean of sand" that is the Taklamakan Desert to reach a small town called Luntai 轮台 on the other side. "The slightest bit of bad weather can stop traffic for days". Hmm, getting delayed for days can't be good. This bit may need further research.

Onward! From Luntai, it's an hour and a half on another bus back to Kuqa, followed by 13 hours on the east-bound train to Turpan 吐鲁番, the second lowest depression in the world (after the Dead Sea) and the hottest spot in China, just 2.5 hours by bus from Ürümqi (from where we fly to Beijing and onward to the loverly Japan, but that's not yet ripe for elaboration). Ye gods! I trust it won't hit the highest temperature mark of 49.6 degress C while I'm there. Although, this bit of the journey may not happen due to time contraints.

And so, it all adds up to 15 days (hopefully), 9.5 hours in the air, 22 hours in trains and 52 hours in buses. Sounds gruelling, even for a pared-down version of an even more ambitious plan involving the neighbouring Gansu Province that pushed 21 days. Curses to the HR department for robbing me of leave days!

Again, touch-and-go isn't how I usually travel, but with no foreseeable plans to revisit the region, we do the best we can against time. Will we make it? Stay tuned ...

NB. If you've got some very important information I've somehow missed (the sort that will get me a free pass to a Chinese jail/ginormous fine for reasons such as over-staying my visa or patronising un-PSB-authorised yurts), drop me a note!