C.J. Neff

It feels like I’ve been to more like half of China’s provinces rather than the measly third I got when I actually counted. But in terms of sheer area covered, especially in terms of the more remote parts of China, the percentage I’ve been to must be pushing 50%. I’ve been to China’s largest provinces, and the next few months will be dedicated to the smaller, more densely populated, coastal states.

I updated my epic Google Map. Guinness World Records hasn’t yet confirmed it’s the most epic ever, but I expect to hear back from them soon!

The map speaks for itself. I encourage you to stare at it, click around, marvel at its beauty, whatever you need to do. I made my next month’s worth of pins yellow, and I’d like to keep doing that as I travel. So if you‘d like to come visit me, you can get a sense for where I’ll be. Enjoy!


View China in a larger map

I think I made the right decision in letting the diarrhea-themed posts silently disappear; it’s time now, however, for another installment.

It can take a few days for a bug to manifest its symptoms, and over any given “few days” I will normally have eaten at at least half a dozen establishments. So, yeah, I never know where the diarrhea comes from; sometimes, frankly, I think it comes from stress. The fact of the matter, though, is that I get it about once a month. I should start calling it my monthly gift!

Anyway, I had some loose bowels in Yītūn Bùlākè, but it was such a crap town (and I had the ride offer for the following morning) that I decided to risk several hours in the car even though that could have been disastrous, to put it euphemistically.

Ultimately, I never found that magic truck going all the way to Xīníng. I’m still surprised! But my last sign was indeed my Xīníng sign.

Special note on this sign: you can see it’s wind-battered and time-worn. I used this sign for several days hoping to find a long distance truck. What’s really special about this sign, however, is that I wrote it completely from memory. Yes, fine, they’re simple characters. But you’ve got to understand that (I have this superstition) they must be written 100% correct; otherwise, no one will stop to pick me up. I knew I knew these characters, so I wrote them from memory. So proud!

The guys who were headed to Gé’ěrmù did indeed return the following morning to make good on their offer, albeit an hour late (it was 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside; I noticed!). It was a really nice ride, though, so I can’t complain. Fast, room to stretch my legs, and unhurried conversation. I found out the driver is actually a truck driver, so he knew the roads well, and I got the sense he’s picked up foreigners before.

Around 4 P.M., we arrived in Gé’ěrmù, the half way point between Yītūn Bùlākè and Xīníng. I had heard this town wasn’t too fond of hosting foreigners, and that almost always ends up translating into expensive hotels, so I decided to train the final leg back to Xīníng, mostly as a means of cost-savings. The ticket cost me about 100 RMB; there was no way I was going to find a place to stay for less than that. Only catch: it was a night train, and they only had standing tickets available. “No problem”, I said, forgetting how awful it is to try to sleep in a space not much bigger than your butt on the never-been-cleaned floor of the packed-to-the-rafters train. My back made me promise we’d never take a standing ticket ever again. We’ll see if the cheapskate in me obliges.

So, I arrived in Xīníng, my first time at the train station here, at 7 A.M. on the dot. I walked a quarter mile to the bus station, ran the last little bit to catch the departing number 5, and arrived at the familiar and comfortable Lete Youth Hostel an hour later.

You know what was the best part of my “second day awake”? I ate another one of Lete’s pizzas (that wasn’t the best part!), and a couple hours later I unexpectedly passed “a little” gas. Why is that so awesome? I’ve learned it’s the definitive sign the diarrhea has passed.

Location:Kunlun Middle Road,Xining,China

I really thought I would find a truck all the way to Xīníng today. If I’ve learned anything from hitchhiking, however, it’s that you can never guess (correctly) what’s going to happen. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned around to check for brake lights from a car I was certain would stop and when I turned back around I discover a different car has stopped. It’s the strangest thing, but I’m always off by one car!

I started out just after sunrise today. Thankfully it was right in the neighborhood of freezing. I had expected it to be closer to 20 degrees (Fahrenheit). 30-ish was a pleasant surprise. Then, with about 40 pounds on my back, I walked for seventy minutes to where the G315 joins back up with a bit of a beltway around Ruòqiāng. I thought that would be the luckiest spot.

At least two dozen trucks passed me on the way to my chosen spot. I think one or two even had Xīníng license plates. But, still, no dice! Once I arrived at my lucky spot, though, I didn’t wait more than five minutes. Three dudes in a Land Cruiser: awesome! I could stretch my legs today.

We stopped for lunch after just an hour in the car. There was one Uyghur in the car, so we looked for a Muslim place. I thought for sure we were going to end up with noodles. Instead, though, we got one of my favorite dishes. The literal translation of the Chinese name for this dish is priceless: “big plate chicken”. That’s exactly what it is too! The broth is super flavorful and a bit thick, kind of like a stew. I love it! So delicious!

This photo is actually from my first time having 大盘鸡, in Kashgar. I didn’t take a picture of today’s big plate, and I haven’t written the other story yet, so I thought I’d use that picture here. The little dwarf plate next to the main dish is a regular-sized plate. Hopefully that gives some perspective on how massive (and awesome) this dish is.

Three hours later, 2,000 meters higher, and about 10 degrees colder, we arrived.

And “arrived” is putting it nicely! I assumed there would be some sort of town here, but, uh, not so much. There aren’t more than ten building here, half of which look to be abandoned. I’m not one to laugh out of nervousness, usually, but I mustered a few giggles when I got out of the car today. Adventure!

One of the handful of buildings was a hotel, so that was cool. Once I had that small detail (find a place where I wouldn’t freeze to death if I ended up needing to spend the night) out of the way, I walked the 20 steps back to the highway to try, once again, to find that magic truck to Xīníng. This was the first time I used the hood and face cover on my new down jacket. Wow, that made all the difference. I’m sure it was significantly below freezing, and it was quite windy. I managed to fend off the chills for 90 minutes before I decided to call it a day.

Here’s the delightful hell-scape I was treated to behind me. According to Lonely Planet, those dust clouds in the distance are from asbestos mining. Whee!




On the bright side, a car stopped and said they’re going half way to Xīníng tomorrow at 10 A.M. You can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be out there waiting by 9:30.

1,280 kilometers to go. I should be able to do it in two more days!

Location:Yītūn Bùlākè

Talking about race in the States is so taboo. You can’t even say something like “most Asians have black hair”. I mean, come on! Some statements are simply facts about race. Not every sentence that invokes race is racist.

So, how to tell the difference? Here’s a convenient litmus test for you: if you have a sentence about a given race, ask yourself if you’d feel comfortable sharing that sentence with any person of that race. If you have any reservations at all, then you’re definitely racist. If not, well, you’re probably still racist, but at least less so!

I’ve gotten bad (i.e. wrong) directions from Chinese people so many times. I began to think that being Chinese is incompatible with having a good sense of direction. Eventually, I shared this racist thought with a few of my close Chinese friends, and they totally concurred! Yes, of course, there are exceptions, but, really, on the whole, wow, watch out when you ask for directions in China!

What does all this have to do with me hitchhiking to Xīníng? Well, today I followed the advice of my Google Map and headed south out of Qiěmò until I found a spot that felt lucky. Approximately every 15 minutes (for a total of 45 minutes), someone would stop and tell me I was in the wrong spot. My Google Map showed, without a doubt, that the first hour of driving ought to be southerly. This is the worst when this happens. It’s happened before, and it’s a big decision to choose whether to trust Google Maps or the locals. The locals, you see, always want to take you to the bus station. I knew the bus station was to the north, so I was super skeptical every time someone told me I needed to go north. The third guy to stop, however, had a car, and he said he would drive me to where I needed to go (I hitchhiked to my hitchhiking spot!). I confirmed we weren’t going to the bus station (a potentially enormous waste of time), thanked him profusely, and then we were on our way.

Funny enough, we actually did stop at the bus station. I sat in the car while the dude went, I thought, to buy me a ticket. What a pleasant surprise when he came back with a giant bag of food. Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave. Stop stressing so much and let it happen.

Guess how long I waited when I got to the right spot? Yeah, like five minutes.

It was a Toyota Land Cruiser today, already at capacity with five adults and tons of luggage inside. Four people in the back seat (especially four grown men (hey, I’m a grown man!)) is never comfortable, but it’s a policy of mine never to complain about a free ride.

There were a few different people in the car, but I really only got to know the boss dude and his son. Their family owns a farm (where they grow red dates and licorice root) and a mine (I think it was a gold mine, but my Chinese “mining” vocabulary is pretty weak). We stopped at their farm for lunch, and it was such a pleasure to share a feast with them. Family-style feasts is definitely what I’ll miss most whenever I happen to say goodbye to this country.

Anyway, my driver yesterday managed to keep the speedometer under 100 miles per hour most of the time. Today, not so much! We covered 360 kilometers in under three hours, which includes an hour for lunch. Whee!

(My sign today easily ranks as ghetto-est ever! I only had one real sheet of paper left, and I wanted to save that for a real emergency. I asked the hotel yesterday for a few sheets of paper, and they essentially gave me a sheet of tracing paper. This stuff wasn’t going to survive even the slightest breeze. So, I taped this flimsy sheet to my one good sheet of paper; and, voilà, two became one (later to become two again). Yes, you can call me MacGyver!)

Arriving in Ruòqiāng around 3 P.M., I decided it was worth attempting to find a truck heading all the way to Xīníng, still 1,500 kilometers away. I walked 20 minutes until I found a lucky-looking spot, wrote up a new sign, and began to wait. Three and a half hours later? No dice.

No problem! There’s probably only one or two trucks per day making the route I’m attempting. Tomorrow, I’ll head for the town (with a five-character-long name (who knows how that’s going to fit on a single sheet of paper!)) right on the border between Xīnjiāng and Qīnghǎi. It’s taken me nearly a month to snake my way around one of China’s largest provinces. Tomorrow, I hope to bid adieu (perhaps a là prochaine is more appropriate) to China’s “Western Frontier” and return to the high altitude, (now) frozen tundras of Qīnghǎi.

Location:Ruòqiāng

Sorry, once again, for the out-of-order storytelling. I was in Kashgar for ten days just before Hotan. I rarely stay in one place for that long, but it was a mixture of being sick(-ish), needing to take it slow for a bit, and meeting truly wonderful friends.

I met five bicyclists (among other awesome people) there, and let’s just say, for the sake of brevity, they’re all on long journeys (10,000+ kilometers). I think I might hop on a bike myself next year, once the weather warms back up. There are three reasons why: first, I love bicycling (isn’t that reason enough?); second, I want to hit up some spots that aren’t otherwise easily accessible; third, and this one is a big one for me, I want to stop talking about reducing my carbon footprint and actually reduce my carbon footprint (it’s kind of ironic that talking about reducing your carbon footprint literally increases it!).

Oh, right, I went off on that tangent because I wanted to say that I almost bought a bike in Kashgar. I had my pick of routes and partners, all experienced and awesome people. In the end, however, it was a touch too much risk for me. You see, Kashgar is the westernmost metropolis in China. It would have taken me a month just to bike my way back out of Xīnjiāng (the province where Kashgar is located). By then, it would have been the end of the year (i.e. even colder!), and there wouldn’t have been many places along the way to change my mind about bicycling. Next year, for sure!

Kashgar, though, was amazing. It’s the center of Uyghur culture in China, and you can feel it. Your Mandarin isn’t going to do you much good here!

What remains of the real old city is absolutely stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it in the world. Clay bricks and mud fashioned into humble abodes haphazardly piled several stories high. Pure, beautiful, organic chaos!

You approach via an old-looking (more on this in a bit) bridge:

From up close, you don’t get as good a sense of how chaotically the residences and rooms are arranged inside. The picture below is quite pedestrian because I’m too low. The view from the bridge above is better, but it’s too far away (perhaps it’s finally time to start using a real camera; zoom would be awesome!).




The next photo, though, captures the character of these adobe abodes pretty well. Look how many stories there are! The doors and windows are so randomly placed! Why are there so many different types of bricks! You can feel the history spilling out of these walls!




Just fantastic! My enthusiasm, however, was quickly abated. As I walked back through the other parts of the “old town”, I realized they weren’t old at all. They’ve been rebuilt. So many of the actual old buildings are presently being torn down to make room for the new, old buildings.

And then there’s the People’s Square, an enormous concrete square with a giant statue of Mao. Nothing could be more out of place here, and you can’t help but think they “paved paradise and put up a parking lot”! It nearly brought me to tears to think what has been lost here.

I can’t say whether Uyghur culture is better than the Hàn’s, or vice versa, but it’s about respect. Each person ought to be able to live the life he or she desires; respect tempers that freedom ever so slightly. Respect means that your freedom can’t impinge on the freedom of others. I can live my life however I want, with the exception that I can’t tell you how to live your life.

That giant “parking lot” in the center of town? I don’t know, man.

Location:Kāshí

I almost gave up this morning. My hands were frozen, and there weren’t many cars heading east (even though there were tons of cars coming from the east).

It wasn’t the longest I’ve ever waited (I only waited 80 minutes (the longest was five hours)), but it was definitely the coldest: about 25 degrees Fahrenheit and a little breezy. I saw a handful of cars pass with the magic “新A” license plates (the Chinese character tells you the province the car is registered in, and the first letter tells you the city), but none of them were interested in being amused by a foreigner for a few hours, I suppose. And then, just when I was seriously considering calling it a day, a small Buick slowly approached. Its license plate? 新A!

It was just a single dude in the car, heading back home to Qiěmò. I learned he was only a year older than me, but he’s already been married for seven years, and he’s got a six year old son. He sells cell phones (not sea shells by the sea shore), and he told me he’s never been outside his own province. I always feel guilty hearing that, especially as a response to me saying I’m a third of the way through visiting every province in China.

He asked the standard questions. Where am I from? How old am I? What kind of work do I do? How much does an iPhone cost in America? Then he told me he likes the Rambo movies, and he asked if it’s true there are a lot of guns in America. Yes, there are!

I’ve got to say that visiting the Gobi Desert is a must-do. The colors, and lack of color, are stunning. Camels are my new favorite animal. Watching the mirages dance across the horizon is mesmerizing. And the sand dunes are beautiful beyond words; their subtle gradients, shadows, and textures are infinitely varied, ephemeral, and endless. We simply don’t have this type of desert back in the States.

I told my driver that the road today reminded me of the road to Las Vegas: straight through the desert as far as the eye can see. You struggle to keep the speedometer under 100 miles an hour as the roads are so effortless to drive. You can see there are no hazards for at least the next mile or two, plenty of time to slow the car from its hurried pace. The only difference between this, the G315, and the road to Las Vegas? This one goes through a yellow desert whereas that one goes through an orange one. Well, that, and this road doesn’t go to Las Vegas!

Location:Qiěmò

I said yesterday that my journey back to Xīníng ought to be about 2,000 kilometers. I discovered this morning that I had only underestimated by 21.85%.

I’m committed to making this journey all by hitchhiking. I’ve been in my fair share of buses and trains over the last month, mostly due to laziness, but today I was reminded why I began hitchhiking in the first place. Annika and Roberto reminded me too! The slogan for their journey is that travel is a way to increase social empathy. Social empathy means you’ve got to meet the locals, and there’s no better way to meet the locals than hitchhiking.

For me, today was a fairly ordinary hitchhiking experience, but perhaps it will be enlightening to share the details of how it went down.

8:30 A.M.: Wake up before the sun rises to pack up all my crap. The earlier you start, the more likely you’ll arrive before the sun goes down.

9:30 A.M.: Check out of the hotel and head for the bus line I discovered the day before has a stop near the highway.

10:00 A.M.: Walk the last few kilometers to the highway.

10:30 A.M.: Convince myself I’ve found a lucky spot, pull out the sign, and start waiting.




10:45 A.M.: Explain to the first car that stops that, yes, it is possible to catch a ride for free. Walk 100 meters back to my lucky spot and make sure I’m holding the sign upright.

11:00 A.M.: Attempt (successfully) to stuff my big bag into the small Ford that stopped to offer me a ride to who knows where. Next, attempt to communicate in Chinese with a car full of Uyghurs.

12:00 P.M.: Arrive who knows where and attempt (successfully) to stop the Uyghurs from buying me a bus ticket to Yútián. Pull out the sign again and wait.

12:15 P.M.: Hop in the car with a 46 year-old whose Mandarin was quite good. Strike up a conversation (he’s been a police officer nearly as long as I’ve been alive), learn what this part of China was like 30 years ago, and enjoy the ride.

1:30 P.M.: Get dropped off at the bus station (Chinese people don’t really understand hitchhiking; they always assume you just don’t know where the bus station is!). Walk a few kilometers to the edge of Yútián (trying to hitch a ride from the city center never bears fruit).

2:00 P.M.: Write a new sign, pretend like I know what’s going on, and wait.




2:30 P.M.: Hop in a small truck with two amusing dudes, one Hàn Chinese, the other Uyghur. Get the pleasantries out of the way: I’m 29, from America, like rock climbing. Then I get a lesson on Chinese-Uyghur relations.

3:30 P.M.: Try to stay awake! It’s been ages since I’ve spoken this much Mandarin in a single day.

4:00 P.M.: Arrive in Mínfēng, get treated to dinner.

4:30 P.M.: Look for a hotel. The first one is “full”, an off-putting way of saying they don’t take foreigners. I walk across the street and find a place for 70 RMB a night.

5:30 P.M.: Take a nap. There’s no power at the hotel, and I’m really quite exhausted from speaking Mandarin all day.

7:30 P.M.: Respond to some emails (“I’m alive!”) and feel guilty about how much I really need to do laundry. N.B.: Didn’t actually do laundry.

8:30 P.M.: Write.

It’s amazing how basic my needs are right now. You know what I’d really love? To find a truck going all the way to Xīníng! That’s it; that’s all I need right now. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

Location:Mínfēng

So many stories to tell from the last two months (and some from even longer ago!). But, as I’ve said before, my simple goal is to experience it during the day and then write about it that night. And, miraculously, after a long day today, I found the motivation to write.

I’m currently in Hotan, heading back towards Níngxià via the Southern Silk Highway. I think today will be the last truly interesting destination for a while. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of dreading the next ten days; I’ve got to work my way back east about 2,000 kilometers (maybe more). It’s fairly desolate out here in China’s “New Frontier” (Xīnjiāng), and Qīnghǎi isn’t much better. Don’t get me wrong; these places are unique in China, and I love them both. It’s just time to return to where they speak Mandarin and the interesting destinations aren’t all 1,000 kilometers apart.

Today, actually, was the most productive day I’ve had in two months. When you’re poor, you learn to make the most of your time when it’s expensive. The hotel here in Hotan is 100 RMB (about 20 USD) a night, so I decided I could only afford one day here.

I started fairly early, wanting to hit up the traditional carpet factory first. My sources told me I could take either bus line 5 or 10, but I should note that line 5 gets you much closer. I took line 10 and wound up wandering around for over an hour trying to find the
dìtǎn chǎng. Just trying to find someone who spoke Mandarin was a challenge in itself. Eventually an auntie, who I was certain couldn’t speak Mandarin, sorted me out, in Mandarin.

I was worried the factory might be closed due to the season (believe me, it’s already winter here, regardless of what the calendar says). When I first arrived, they did indeed appear to be running on a skeleton crew.

The lighting was perfect in the wool washing room, not a soul around:

I found this āyí in a small weaving room. The dudes in the background were checking the colors of the wool to be used in their custom design. How incredible is that? You can bring a picture to this factory, and they’ll craft a carpet by hand to match your design.




I can’t imagine doing this kind of work for more than five minutes. It’s extremely tedious and time consuming. Every single fiber is woven by hand. Every single strand needs to be color matched to the original design. I’d say it took about 20 minutes to complete a single row of the carpet above.

There are only three tools (pictured below) used to weave the carpets. The knife thing in the middle also has a needle tool attached. The needle is used to grab a strand or two of the thicker skeleton fibers. The artist then ties a strand of colored wool to the skeleton fibers, and finally drops down the knife tool to trim the colored fibers approximately to length. The comb is used to pack down a row of fibers once they’re woven. Finally, the giant scissors (I want a pair!) are used to trim the row to length.




It’s just incredible the amount of time, patience, and artistry this process requires!




I was nearly satisfied after watching this one āyí weave a single carpet for half an hour. I was on my way out when I discovered that the factory was in fact not operating on a skeleton crew!




Nearly a hundred artists crafting dozens of carpets: here was the heart of the operation!

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m actually a bit of a vanilla guy. Vanilla’s my favorite flavor, and monochromatic is my favorite color scheme. Here’s the carpet that struck me as most beautiful:




I wasn’t sure I would have time for my full itinerary after wasting so much time finding the carpet factory, but I discovered I was already half way to the silk factory. Unfortunately, they were essentially closed for the winter, but I still managed to get a tour. I’ll have to go back, though, to see them boiling the larvae pods. That process is totally unique and absurd. I’ve just got to see it for myself one day!

There’s something special about silk, though. It shines and shimmers. It’s utterly gorgeous. Unfortunately, it’s a little too “rainbow sherbet” for this “vanilla” guy, so I’m not one for buying silk. Admiring its beauty, however, is universal.




The fabrics and scarves they had for sale were pedestrian, in my opinion, but the silk carpets, phew, incredible! Their shine renders them practically holographic. You’ve got to see them for yourself. Bring a suitcase full of money, however, if you’re interested in taking one home!

Last stop: the Sunday Market. Yeah, yeah, it’s Saturday. Why hit up the Sunday Market on Saturday? Well, I think “Sunday Market” is just an old (“vestigial”, if you will) name, from a time, perhaps, when the market was only on Sundays. Nowadays, the market bustles every day of the week. And “bustles” is an understatement. I think this was the most chaotic, crazy, confusing, and utterly overwhelming experience I’ve had in China.

It’s impossible to get a mental map of this market; you simply weave your way indoors and out, avoiding places you’ve already seen until you think you’ve seen it all. There’s fruit, furnaces, silk, shoes, coal, carpets, and absolutely everything in between.

I had to snap the photo below. It definitely qualifies as “the photo that’s most unlike being there” I’ve ever taken. The spot where I took this was actually indoors. I snapped this photo just after two motorcycles whizzed by me (yes, indoors!). Behind me there was a fried foods stall splattering oil all over the place. In front, yup, that’s silk! Chaos! Delightful, overwhelming, wouldn’t-change-a-single-thing chaos!

Location:Hétián