Impact with China
I’m about to start another one-month journey in China, my third in this country that attracts me, as much as it sickens me. I feel the fascination of the extreme East, all summarised in the unfathomable complexity of a writing system based on characters. Maybe because I have been dabbling at learning the language, it makes me feel even more powerless in front of seemingly inextricable clots of stokes that only differ by details, and still are pronounced in a completely different way and mean completely different things.
I can hardly accept to be still excluded by the meaning, and even the pronunciation of the writings I see around me. True, although I am able to hold a simple conversation, my study has not been too painstaking. I have lacked a real motive and have been rebutted by the difficulties of memorising. And yet, I come back for more of China. I don’t like to drop challenges, so I take tourism as an excuse for reviving the competitive spirit.
Fleeing from Lanzhou, I first reached the town of Linxia, crossed by a large tributary of the Yellow River, with equally limy waters. Again, the river bank is lined with a row of unattractive modern buildings, quite orderly now that they are still in good repair, but a far cry from my expectations of the old town look. In between my two buses I stroll along the main street and watch the interesting presence of the Muslim Hui around the mosque and in the market. The women wear a peculiar lilac hat in the form of a fez. On the road to here, scores of Chinese-style mosques scattered across the charming Gansu countryside were a clear sign that Muslims lived in the area.
I was walking out of the bus station to board my coach when a man with hyped-up ways came up to me. His looks were funny and he kept touching my arm while I did my best to recoil from his fingers without showing too much. He must have taken me for an immigration official, because he practically wanted to do an interview on work opportunities abroad and immigration procedures, as well. However, I just had time to act in the role of improvised travel agent and answer his questions about flight duration, route and fare to 
I leave Xiahe bound for Xining before sunrise. The town is still deserted and I walk down the disproportionately wide avenue towards the bus station, only coming across a couple of stray dogs rummaging in the rubbish.
The Korean boy was initially thinking of making it to Matisi, an ancient Buddhist temple in the area of Zhangye, but in the end decided to move on straight to his next destination and withdraw a little bit of support to my same intention. I wavered whether I really wanted not to miss out on Matisi.