Tag: Xinjiang Tour Cycling

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Police Chase In Xinjiang

The Police Save Me again

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

I was in the middle of a dream as a dark figure appeared in front of me. Three armed police officers surrounded me while I attempted to decipher reality from the unconscious mind. The sun was shining again and now it was time to check in with the Xinjiang police force. As I left the hotel the same worker who tried to charge me $250 USD for a room began to tell me that I owed him more money. The police officers snarled something which I could not understand but probably amounted to something along the lines of “Keep your trap shut.” Indeed, in some places in the world it pays dividends to be broke and have police escorts. Xinjiang was starting to grow on me rather quickly as a phenomenal travel destination.

After standing around for two hours that morning while nibbling on a continental breakfast of bread and tea I was finally released.  I was more than satisfied with my complimentary proletariat style meal which was brought to me with a smile of hospitality by a police officer. I thought of the people in that four star hotel who were stuffing food down there faces and dining on Chinese caviar or shark fin soup. If invited to join I certainly would not have refused a lavish meal, but that kind of extravagance failed to tempt me in the least bit.

Before being set free to roam the roads of rural Xinjiang again, there was one very important condition imposed by the authorities. A police escort would have to accompany me along the way. They just said that it would be exclusively for my protection and there would be no problem at all. I have to admit I was rather surprised but had learned to expect the unexpected in this remote region of China. The whole situation reminded me of my time in Pakistan when I went for a hike with five armed escorts in a remote region which was once a strong Taliban breeding ground. Surely there was no Taliban here in China, by the way things were going, even if a similar organization existed, I am sure no one would tell me anything about it. There was nothing to do but roll with the punches. Even though I felt suffocated by the authorities in Pakistan, this time it might turn out to be much different. Perhaps I could make friends with the police officer and he would make a good travel companion. It would be great if he gave me some tips on where to stop along the way. Whether an assigned or unassigned travel partner, I had a local with me, which might not be so bad.

The motorcycled companion kept a steady distance of about one hundred meters behind me the whole time. At one point he caught up and demanded I stop. The seriousness in his expression left me worried. Was I entering a danger zone? Was there someone in the vicinity trying to harm us? He stopped his motorcycle and parked with great conviction and ran full speed toward me. After shouting something in Chinese to his phone I found out what he was up to. “Lets take a picture together,” the voice bellowed from his phone. We posed for a few shots and then he sprinted back to his motorbike. He then road alongside me smiling for a few minutes before taking his post one hundred meters back.

A few minutes later we stopped at a village and another guard replaced him, this time driving a car.  This guy stayed farther behind to the point which I thought I had lost him a few times. He caught up to me and asked if anything was wrong when I stopped to urinate behind a tree. The police officer stayed on my tale for a bit until his headway kept on getting further and further away, until he became a minuscule speck in the distant horizon. I was on my own again. It actually felt a bit strange not being in the company of the police anymore. I was growing fond of having someone look out for me and take care of me. I have to admit I felt very secure with my escort there. Perhaps I was just missing my mother at that point. Anyway, only about 18 hours had passed since the police arrived on the scene and steered me in the right places to go. I enjoyed just sitting back and relaxing for a bit and not having to depend on myself for every decision.

The new found feeling of solitude would not last very long. I entered a village and people stared at me with intense curiosity and I had some casual conversation in my survival Chinese and body language. The sun was about to set so I decided it was time to eat and pitch my tent for the night. One kilometer outside of the village I stumbled upon what seemed to be the perfect spot to pitch my tent for the night. It was just far enough so no one would come and bother me at night and close enough to town so I could get some breakfast to fuel myself up for the following day. There was a patch of trees shielding me from the main road as well. Surely no one would be able to find me there. My instinct proved to be incorrect this time.

I had just fallen into a deep sleep when some bright flashes of light in the distance woke me up. My hunch was that some villagers were probably just taking care of their animals and it would pass. However, the light came closer and closer over to my direction. The blinding light was beaming with such intensity that I realized no villagers would ever carry flashlights of that magnitude. I counted five in total and now they were approaching my tent at a very quick pace. Was this the Chinese Taliban that no one had told me about? Would I become the next kidnapping victim, all the while just trying to make peace with my fellow global citizens? Whatever my fate would be I had no choice but to accept it. Everything was out of my control. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins but I was still no Bruce Lee and I had no chance in a one on five battle.

Before I knew it five armed men in fatigues had me surrounded. Once again it was the Xinjiang police. I pointed at my two wheeled machine while explaining as quickly as possible that I was just a guy traveling by bicycle who meant no harm. The men started motioning aggressively using their hands to communicate a warning that I would have my throat slit if I slept in that spot for the night. I was completely at their mercy and would comply with whatever request they made. The electronic phone translation came to the rescue once again. “We will take you to a school close to here and you can sleep there. It is dangerous here,” the robotic voice repeated. The police saved me once again.  My guardian angels arrived right on time. Who knows what my fate would have been had I stayed in that spot for the night. Perhaps my throat would have been diced into small pieces.

I loaded my bags into the police truck and was now going for one more ride. My eyes were still not accustomed to the midnight darkness and I carried no light with me. Upon explaining this to the police they came up with the perfect solution. One of the younger men would ride my bike to the school himself. After receiving orders from what seemed to be a more senior office, the young cop’s face turned to sheer excitement similar to that of a young child who was given candy by his mother. Often on my world cycle tour adventures one of the requests I always receive from locals is to test drive my bike for a few minutes. The young man was more than elated and sprinted toward my bike and hopped onto the seat right away. Quickly he realized the seat was much too high for him but immediately shifted to the spinning position.  He was off to the races in the midnight darkness.

We sped away toward the school and caught up to the guy riding my bicycle. He was pedaling relentlessly and waved at us as we zoomed past.  I was happy to have him take my bike for me, as I had been riding all day and did not plan for night riding. Also, seeing the excitement on his face made me happy to be able to contribute to this special memory for him. I am sure he would remember this moment for a long time to come. I certainly will never forget it either.

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Awakening On a Bed of Xinjiang Rocks

Awakening on a Bed of Rocks

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

Ice cold water infiltrated my tent at 4AM and saturated my clothing. My prayers to the sun gods were not answered. Overcast skies and piercing wind gusts were all that the heavens had to spare for a man who was thrown out of his element at the hands of Mother Nature. I continued to shiver as daybreak transformed the Xinjiang landscape into an abyss of relief. The gradual temperature increase seemed to take light years. Time stood still as suffering overwhelmed my pain tolerance.

It was time to put on my half wet clothes and mount my bike once again. The water in my clothing added another five kilograms of dead weight to the load I carried on my shoulders. Time to suck it up and keep moving. So is life. All I knew was one thing- I was alive to see another day. The incident at 4AM that morning really sucked an immense amount of energy out of my system and now I had no choice but to continue along. It was as if my life energy had been washed away downstream. The only thing that could restore it was food and rest. The giant hole in my stomach became more hollow with each passing second. I had about eighty kilometers remaining until I could have another home cooked Chinese meal at the next village. I was frothing at the mouth like a dog with rabies and ready to tear apart anything edible that brought itself into my field of vision. There were little menu options in the villages of Xinjiang but I was looking forward to consuming the same meal I had been having for the previous several weeks- a homemade version of ramen noodles called ‘lakhman.’

The road continued to go up and up along a slow but deadly gradient. It was like being on the incline portion of a roller coaster that never ends. However, I was not propelled by a motor engine but just my own willpower. The brush with death I experienced that morning left me feeling more human than ever before. I was no longer a superhero who could defeat nature and take on the world. I was just a little speck in the infinite universe whose existence was meaningless.  I am just a living being making a brief appearance as a guest on the earth for a infinitesimally short period of time. At that moment I felt as if I had overstayed my welcome. Was Mother Nature trying to tell me something? Was I not doing everything in my power to take care of her? I vowed to do anything I could to give back at that moment since she spared me. I was humbled by the thoughts that everything in the universe would have just kept moving without me had I perished that morning.

All I could do was keep moving my legs one movement at a time and not allow my weariness to defeat me. Even though I felt like a zombie from a 1980’s horror movie I was happy to be able to see another day. After about thirty kilometers into my ride I collapsed on some rocks for a nap. It never ceases to amaze me that regardless of environment I was able to sleep just about anywhere. At that moment I could have fallen asleep on a ring of fire with gasoline doused all over my boots with the flames of hell racing towards me. I still would have been able to lay my head down in peace. After all this was nothing more than heaven on earth. The beauty of life was all around me at that moment. The rocks became a part of me as they pierced into my skin. I found my bed of roses in the Xinjiang Provence that afternoon. Perhaps I was receiving natural Chinese acupuncture that aided me in arriving at such a blissful state. It was such a privilege it was just to lie down in a warm, quiet place. No bed, mattress, pillow, grass or trees needed.  The warm sun was radiating down on me finally. The rays pierced to the depths of my body and slowly restored my life energy. Food was scarce but my hunger subsided for the moment. The vitamin D intake would have to suffice for the time being. I mustered up the will to spread out some clothing around myself on the rocks in order to relieve my shoulders of the burdensome load they were carrying. The sun’s rays would work its magic and lighten the load for the next segment of my ride.

What a relief it was to lie down and let my body and mind rest. Sleep came to me within microseconds. They say nature rewards sleep to those who are living out their life to the fullest all the time. If that is the case then I was pushing my limits to the extreme. This is the polarity of life. Out of work is rest. If you want security, you have to live a life of insecurity. If you want to be authentically true to yourself then you have to take risks. Repression is the only way to avoid risk. Life and nature are not logical. There were many times when I was laying down on my soft mattress in the bed I grew up in, restless and unable to fall asleep. I had a refrigerator full of food, a bathroom with running water a few steps away, a system built into my home to adjust the temperature at a moment’s notice and a family in the adjacent room ready to support me through life’s trials and tribulations. Security was commonplace in my life and sleep would not come easily. My imagination would run wild painting pictures of all the adventures that were out there waiting for me in the world. I was not being true to myself and nature was punishing me. Now I was at my most vulnerable and all I had was a bed of rocks to rest my head on and the open sky engulfing my entire being. The irony of life was all encompassing and I was swept away into dreamland by its truth.

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Dancing Naked in the Dark- Mastering the Art of Life and Death in Xinjiang, China

Dancing Naked in the Dark- Mastering the Art of Life and Death

Date- March 29th, 2018

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

The distant sky was as dark as a Michigan summer blueberry. Thunder rumbled as if I was being scolded for daring to cycle on a segment of the earth’s terrain that was above and beyond my physical capacity. Lightening shimmered as the yellowish black contrast was something out of a Diego Rivera masterpiece. The Xinjiang sky was a work of art. Breathtaking yet terrifying. I was completely alone. A car hadn’t passed by in nearly an hour. Silence pierced its claws into my skull as my thoughts ran wild. What if the wind picks up and tosses sand in my eyes? What if it starts hailing baseballs? I don’t even have a helmet to protect my body’s most vital organ! This is rural China! Who knows what could happen to me out here. 

I was at a metaphorical crossroads. Option one- sleep on sharp stones while running the risk of having my thirty dollar tent swept away by the wind. Option two- pitch my tent under a bridge culvert that would shield me from the elements. The miniscule risk of water soaking me at night seemed so trivial. I chose option two. This is what I get for not investing a little bit more money into a higher quality tent. The painful feeling of regret filled my chest with tension and made it seem like my heart had turned into a ten kilogram bowling ball.

Please let me survive this evening, I thought to myself as I lay awake in my tent. The wind howled and whistled. The flapping plastic walls were louder than a set of Bose headphones blasting heavy metal music to my ears. I could taste the dust tossed around in the air. Chalky and congesting. I panted for breath as I inhaled sand particles. My tent would have been blown into the heavens if I chose to pitch away from the culvert. My heart pounded as if I had absorbed chest blows from Mike Tyson.

I found myself in a dreamland of warm sunshine and a nearby stream pounded against the pebbles as the soothing rhythm finally put my mind into a state of relaxation. What a lovely day and comforting contrast to the mysterious night air. I could feel the wide grin on my face pulling apart my lips, relieving the tension from my navel. Suddenly, I snapped out of it. The water rumbled and pounded in the distance. I opened my eyes to coal black darkness. What happened to all the warm sunshine? The liquid continued to crash until it reached the decibel level of an opera house front row seat with Pavarotti hitting a high note. 

Three, two, one! Icy cold liquid catapulted me to my feet within the snap of a finger. Electricity zapped through the bottoms of my feet to the depths of my chest. The cold was completely exhilarating and sent me into a state of shock. My heart exploded and I panted for breath like a dog chasing a bone up a Mount Everest incline. My dream turned into a rude reality. Passport! Money! I grabbed my two most important travel items and stood erect in disbelief outside my tent as the knee high freezing water continued to flow into my sleeping quarters.

The icy liquid instantly turned my pants and long sleeved T-shirt into bricks of ice.  I peeled off my wet layers to prevent myself from getting an illness and hung them up on the bridge above the culvert area. The stars and moon are the only source of light I use when on the road. Once my eyes adjust to my surroundings, the shimmering stars are more than enough to allow me to stumble out of my tent and find a makeshift toilet next to a lucky tree that I end up fertilizing. Unfortunately, the bright lights in the sky were nowhere to be found, so I blindly grabbed and swirled my throbbing hands through the pool of icy water in an attempt to salvage anything I could. Sock. Apple. Underwear. Carrot. One by one I fished out all of my food and clothes and hung them up to dry on the concrete.  

I was a helpless victim of Mother Nature’s wrath. It was 4:00 a.m. and the sun would come up in a few hours. My shoes were nowhere to be found and must have been washed away somewhere downstream. Along my expeditions into various parts of the economically less privileged parts of the world, I often encountered barefoot cyclists. Now I would become one of them. If they could get used to cycling while the arches of their feet dug into pedals, so could I. What makes us different anyway? Shoes are luxury that make our feet soft and weak. Luckily, I was able to retrieve my bicycle as it was parked on a point of higher elevation nearby. One by one, I salvaged all of my items and hung them to dry above me. As the sun gradually pierced through the horizon, I spotted two brown objects downstream. My shoes! I stumbled over in excitement as sharp stones massaged the arches of my feet. 

Was this real? I pinched myself. It seemed like the obvious solution to escape such an utter nightmare. I desperately craved my heated floor and warm blankets in Seoul. Reality bit colder than a starved Siberian husky. I skipped back and forth in the roadway to heat myself up. The nearest town was at least eighty kilometers away and no cars were on the road. I paced back and forth to pass the time until sunrise. The sun will come up in a few hours and it will warm up soon. One step at a time! 

That is when it all hit me. If the water had been a little bit deeper I would have been washed into another lifetime. I was lucky to be alive. I was cold and naked in the dark Chinese countryside, but alive! How beautiful it is to be alive. How beautiful this cold, dark night is! What a symbolic moment! I sported the same outfit as when I came into the world thirty something years ago. I was reborn with a new outlook on everything. My clothes were wet, the few pieces of fruit and bread carried were now gone or caked with mud. The only things I had were my passport and a little bit of cash which were rendered useless. There is a Korean proverb that says you enter and leave this world with an empty hand. I felt like I was reborn as everything I carried with me was of no use. They say the only way to master the art of death is to first master the art of life. The feeling I had at that moment was as if I had truly mastered the art of life. I felt an inner bliss just from being able to breath and jog up and down the street in the dark. I was absolutely free and life seemed so simple. Fear, stress, anger, jealousy and all other negative emotions just seemed so petty and meaningless. Why was I making things so complicated before? This was indeed a blessing in disguise. I was reborn as a Chinese tiger on that early morning. The tiger was ready to get on his bike again and continue.

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Lessons Learned From Chinese Children

Lessons Learned From Chinese Children

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

“Howww!” Two Kirghiz Chinese children howled in approval as they raced each other on their three wheeled bicycles. One smacked the other on the back and took off running while panting for breath.  I observed the children for a few minutes more and then made my way back to the yurt, where I would spend the night with the two children and their mother. As I scanned their residence I noticed that the only toys they owned were the bicycles they were riding on. They were all smiles and laughs as they chased each other along the grassy terrain as a 7,500 meter high glacier loomed in the background. “Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity,” suddenly North American author Thoreau’s quote entered my mind. Keep your life simple and happiness will find its way to you. These children were a prime example.

As I fixated myself on the children playing in rural China, I had a flashback that transported me back to Children’s Day in South Korea. The sun was shining bright and the cool, refreshing breeze that was blowing against the leaves was musical. It was hard to believe that I was in the middle of a city of 12 million people. I saw vivid images of a South Korean family I saw at the park in my neighborhood in Seoul. The mother and father distracted not by their child’s naughty behavior, but by the smart phone in their palms. “Minsoo! Come over here quickly,” they yelled halfheartedly while keeping their eyes locked on the electronic device as their thumbs kept tapping on the screen. A young boy about age 8-10, Minsoo kept walking in the opposite direction, a defiant attitude at such a young age which reminded me of myself. Minsoo also had a smart phone in his hands and didn’t pay his parents any mind. Next to Minsoo’s parents was another family of four. Two parents in their early to mid forties and two children between ages 8-12 years old. This time all four were fixated on their smart phones sitting on a bench distracted from the most important thing in their lives- quality time together. As advertised by the major electronic companies, they were playing with a device developed to help modernize society and bring people together. Unfortunately, it is being abused by many to the point where people are now separated by their electronic devices and do not focus on the present moment. The dopamine spike that computer scientists work so hard to maximize in their smart phone applications was simply too much for them to resist. Even while at the park with their family, the need to be entertained by social media and the Internet was too powerful to be overcome.

Even though I had a very privileged upbringing, I could relate with the Chinese children better than I ever expected. A ball and a group of friends created hours upon hours of free entertainment, exercise, bloody noses, skinned knees and even two broken bones which proved invaluable for character building while growing up. Team building, leadership and the ability to persevere when my body refused to go any further would foster essential life skills. All I needed was a ball and friends and I was happy. This was all before the information revolution took over modern society. Now our ball has become the computer we hold in the palm or our hands while friends exist only through text, pictures and videos.

Minimalism is a way of life that everyone should adopt as responsible global citizens. We are constantly bombarded with advertisements that promise happiness through our consumption of junk. As we continue to be good consumers, our world economy thrives. We work hard to look good in the car we drive to work and show off the new clothes on our back. However, we fail to think about where the items we purchase come from and what effect our excessive greed will have on the environment. “I am just one person. This will make no difference,” we repeat to ourselves to justify our irresponsible behavior. We spend less time with others and our relationships become more and more shallow. As a result, our mental health is being depleted.  The pharmaceutical companies and psychologists in the West are making a fortune from the great paradox of our era.  My 97 year old grandfather lived through the Great Depression that resulted from the stock market crash in 1929 in the United States and claims that no one suffered from psychological depression during that era.  Perhaps this is because people back then focused on the most important thing in their lives- their relationships with others. The happiest moments in my life are when I leave behind all of the items I have accumulated in South Korea and hit the road for two months out of the year. All I need is my tent, bike, warm clothes and company of my fellow global citizens and I am happy.

Yellow dust has become an everyday part of life here in Seoul, South Korea. Eight years ago when I arrived at my new home on the other side of the world, it would make an appearance once a year for one week. Times have changed. Yellow dust forecasts accompany weather forecasts on the news everyday. Nowadays I wake up in the mornings with a sore throat and eye irritation more than three days per week.  The vigorous exercise routine that I has become an essential part of my life has been altered as a result of potential lung damage due to inhaling toxic air particles.  As I write this blog entry, I have finally been relieved of yellow dust due to a cool rainfall in Seoul which provides a brief escape. People in my neighborhood today told me there is nothing they can do about the present situation and blame the poor air quality on neighboring China. It is time we stop blaming others for the present state of the world and take a serious look at our own personal actions as mature global citizens. There is something you can do about it- all it takes is the courage to act appropriately and speak the truth as you know it.  We all have something to learn from the Chinese children in Xinjang- how to enjoy a life of simplicity as responsible citizens of the world.