Between melons and tension

Arrival in Urumqi

That done, dad buys water and we take the car to go see China’s largest salt mine. After an hour, we arrive on the shores of a salt lake that is the second lowest point in the world. I send an SMS to Estelle, mom’s godmother who is in Camargue, near saline, to tell us where we are. Dad finds a place where the view is better…for us, the photos and the video footage. We take the car again and find ourselves in an area closed off by large barriers and where the entrance fee is very expensive. We call the great painter, and friend of dad’s, Ghazi to let him know of our arrival in Urumchi. A few minutes later, he calls us back and tells us that he reserved a hotel for us and that he’s expecting us for dinner at 20:00. It’s 19:15 and we’re about an hour away from Urumchi. In the middle of road we stop to look at monsters that are in rows like pickets, their three arms open wide like the blades of a vegetable chopper: they are among thousands of Mr. and Mrs. Windmills. A bunch of buses stop, filled with Chinese tourists who are having their picture taken while imitating these monsters. When a small Ouigour car comes, they take me for one of them and I am very honored. Dad buys two large melons that I gladly eat; they are crispy and extraordinarily tasty. You probably know of the famous Hami melons. Actually, they are really good in all of Xinjiang and it’s because Hami is the closest city to China that the Chinese made these melons famous. We arrive at the hotel Tumaris, a three star hotel that seems to have another three reserved by Ghazi. We get the rooms quickly and at half price thanks to Ghazi. While we’re waiting for him to arrive, Yang Dong gets the camera ready to film and right there, a young arrogant Chinese man who thinks he’s better than us tries to stop us from filming saying that it’s forbidden. But dad isn’t about to be bossed around and shows the young man that he doesn’t care about what he’s saying. The Chinese man keeps protesting until Ghazi arrives and then he backs off. Yang Dong films this character who is a rather old man with his hair combed back, like a Sicilian godfather with a belly that’s well fed. He’s a man with almond-shaped eyes, who takes dad in his arms. Looks are only a small part of this person’s extraordinary being. We go towards the other end of the hotel in a room with a dance floor. We sit at a table and can watch a show that crosses the Silk Roads. There are Russian, Kazakh, Ouigour or Tadjik boys and girls that come. It’s incredible how pretty the girls are over there. The person presenting the concert has a round head, Russian and Turkish traits: in reality, he looks a lot like an Azeri. Over there in the street there are very few Chinese and mostly people we’d find in Baku, Dubai or Tehran. During dinner, Ghazi tells me that thanks to dad’s documentary on the Ouigour in 1995, these people were able to come out of the shadows. He also tells me that I should always have the goal of doing better than him and not like him. After this discussion, I go film the dances. When everyone is finished, Ghazi tells dad that he must go. Dad gets up and we do the same to accompany him to the door. Respect. We thank him again. Dad and Ghazi embrace each other. Tomorrow, we’ll go see him. We go back to our room and since there is Internet we make the most of it. I look at the news and see that Karadzic has been transferred to The Hague for war crimes and crimes against humanity during the Bosnian genocide and in Serbia. I also looked at the very good question the CNN journalist Christiane Amanpour asked Mr.Sarkozy, during a press conference with Obama about his use of the term “deep clean” the rabble. In French it’s an expression that can be interpreted as racist, and will not be forgotten with someone like Obama who has succeeded well in life despite fitting into Sakozy’s definition of “rabble”. As usual, Sarkozy answers indirectly to the question, but mainly makes the phenomenal mistake of saying there hasn’t been a riot since he took office, evidently forgetting the ones at Villers le Bel in the Paris suburbs. After since I’m used to looking at the evolutions of the transfers in soccer, the news about soccer and the competitions throughout the world with the FIFA website and news about my favorite team: the OM. Finally, I have a look at a forum on Iranians living in Francophone countries or speak French, check the news about Iran and questions young people asked today. To finish off, since I’m missing more than a month and a half of my favorite daily show “La Plus Belle Vie”, I look at what’s happening but thanks to an unofficial site, I can know what will happen next. That is, of course, without forgetting to check my emails. When I’m done, I write my text. Dad is so tired that in order for him not to fall asleep, he goes for a walk. I keep on writing my text but he’s so tired that he comes back a few minutes later. When I finish writing, I send it by email to my mother who will correct it then post it in my blog. Then I get ready to go to bed and I sleep waiting for morning to come.