Kashgar Sunday Market
The market proper was something else. We should have had at least a clue what we were in for when the line at every ATM in the city was five people long. Loaded with cash and extra conscious of the locations of our wallets and cell-phones, we entered the fray.
The savagery of the market was so intense it might best be told through illustrations and captions rather than a narrative. So I dispense here-forth (for the most-part) with my banter.
Bagels are very popular in Kashgar. Who knew? All around us they were being boiled and tossed, steaming, by bare hand into giant open clay ovens. This wheeler is no doubt making a delivery.
This is the so called dumpling alley. There are lots of dumpling places. Some of them staffed by beautiful Uighur women. Eat at your own risk.
A silk merchant appears to be doing just fine in his wicked hat.
Medicinal honey for the lungs…. Your guess is as good as mine.
Everywhere in Kashgar, you find watermelons for sale. This time of year, it’s is a local specialty.
We came upon a man doing a performance which consisted of him standing on very sharp objects. Here you may see him standing on two sharp cleavers, and holding a boy from the crowd.
Scott bought a wicked twisted pastry, much to the chagrin of a group of gentleman. They were unable to read even the Chinese side of our business card, but they non the less asked to be in a photo.
This man is selling that fabled bread, nan.
Plenty of random detritus for sale. Likely some of the lowest prices on earth.
Uyghur classics re-dubbed on cassette tapes that formerly held Korean chart toppers.
About as much garlic for sale as Scott’s Armenian grandfather uses in a week.
Lunch in a Uyghur dive restaurant which proudly portrayed a frowning face given to them by the health inspector.
Thirsty? Orange flavored poison water quenches.