Just a few moments to share…..For a better quality just click on Vimeo and watch in HD.
Hope you enjoy…
For now, the wild cloud formations in this part of the world bring my attention back to the present, the vast horizons makes everything seem close, and I feel exhilarated, as if I could be swept away any minute by the explosive energy hiding inside them.
ON LINE AGAIN…. FOLLOW US HOME! NEXT POST, SATURDAY
Finally we have time to visit the old town, that proves quick to weave its magic spell on us. The population is mostly muslim and one is immediately struck by the mix of facial characteristics there, faces often seem more Caucasian or Turkish than typically Chinese. The modern is casually mixed with the old in an unusual and pleasing way, and in the age of cell phones, as silent electric mopeds whistle past, near a sweet sticky rice stall, you can phone home on a row of old telephones. Smiles are easy and the pace of life is slow.
Somehow the crumbling old clay buildings have kept a small part of the past in tact not only in their structures but also within the inhabitants, who spend their time forging and carving on the roadsides. Practicing old dying crafts whilst chatting idly with hot chai and beating their big hammers on soft copper bowls… creating an atmosphere so , so different to that inside the shiny shops a few blocks ahead.
The bazaar sells large chunks of yellow crystalized sugar along side beautifully painted gourds and …..dried hedgehogs, lizards, live scorpions not forgetting, strange balls of insects to be used as shampoo. I’m tempted, but am dissuaded by Lucas’ horrified look…..we buy a beautifully hand forged shovel to use in our vegetable garden at home and imagine myself digging our clayey soil and remembering this special moment.
The days fly and we must go. Thank god the M.O.T. wasn’t necessary and we head off towards the Kirghikistan boarder early in the morning…another high pass. It is snowing, we again pack some dirty washing for the customs control and order the kids to be seen and not heard. Very soon we are again free of obligatory guides and free to move and stop where we please. The cold somehow invigorates this feeling of freedom and we celebrate with snow men and hard alcohol. Soon we will all separate in different directions…. east to Mongolia, south west to Tajikistan and Uzbekistanand north to Kazakistan…..We are still undecided, our wounds are still fresh and we are still unsure of the real damage done to the truck. So far it’s raining inside on our bed and the gears are a little difficult to insert due to the bent cabin…. We need a few days of calm to decide….i feel like i need to decode a secret message, read some proficy…this time i want to do the right thing, i have no more energy for any other kind of adventure…..i just want to be a simple tourist. Our visas are prepared for the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan, to explore the high mountains near bordering Afghanistan. It has always been a dream of mine to visit the Hindu Kush but we will see…. For now I want to enjoy this new-found intimacy with my family that always seems to follows disasters.
The story is long…much too long, but the outcome is simple (and to my disbelief even today) but happy. We have managed to save the truck in a complex rescue operation. No large machinery would risk the bad road, so with three pulleys , many small jacks and levers and twenty men digging, the truck was pulled back onto its wheels in less than 24 hours after rolling over.
Holes were drilled into the rocks to anchor the pulleys, and the large heavy objects were secured inside the truck to minimize damage. The side I imagined caved in and open like a tin of beans, is strangely in tact…even the Pakistani paintings haven’t suffered too much. …but will the engine start?? And what other hidden damage?
After the first night huddled all together in a coldest of beds pushed next to each other, we sleep a deep and easier sleep, again everything is possible. The next day I salvage objects I had irreverently thrown in disgust, and hoard them jealously inside the guest house away from the elements, mentally visualising myself placing them back in to their old place. The engine starts after a few hours of fiddling. The diesel filter is damaged and needs to be bypassed……but for now all else seems intact.
-we can most probably drive home-
A little dynamite handled with ease in this mining area is used to remove a large boulder awkwardly placed in front of our truck. A new track will have to be cleared to get us back on the road. Luca (very bravely – I was shaking and couldn’t look) drives the truck slowly and carefully down the slope. Men follow with shovels ,strangely silent and ready to intervene… but it’s not necessary. Our group of ‘China crossing’ travellers, came immediately to help and support us on hearing the news (thank you..) and there is a cheer and emotion as the truck parks in front of the guest house. Only Lusira frowns with a few speckles of unhappy tears marking her face as she spots her poor crooked truck. She wasn’t involved in the rescue and sees it for the first time since it rolled.
But no time- we must drive tomorrow if we are to cross China with our present visas. After lunch there is a hive of activity that touches me. Everyone is doing something to bang our truck into a drivable state and to make our little nest homely again.
Tanja helps me order the anarchy of objects littering the guest house floor, and in four hours I manage to repack everything into the truck. Diesel smell and all, we will sleep in the truck tonight. Giulio is very unsettled and needs to be reassured. This morning he told Luca that he thought he (Luca) was very small and had died. His games in the past two days relive the scene. Lego cars roll over cushions and Giulio eerily echoes the very same words pronounced during the accident. I need now to spend a little time with my kids.