To my surprise, Ürümqi turned out to be way colder & snowier than Harbin.
Here’s the snow falling in front of a mural of camels and sand.
Here’s the snow falling in front of a palm tree and Burger King. 
And here’s the (surreptitiously photographed) metal detector in the aforementioned Burger King.
These “shelves of meat” would have fit right in on the infamous Datong menu.
One of my Mandarin teachers taught me that the Chinese differentiate national or international cuisines from local or regional cuisines. For example, 中餐 (Zhōngcān) and 西餐 (Xīcān) mean “Chinese food” and “Western food,” respectively, whereas 四川菜 (Mòxīgē cài) and 墨西哥菜 (Sìchuān cài) mean “Sichuan food” and “Mexican food.” I like to think of 餐 (cān) as the more formal “cuisine” and 菜 (cài) as the more laidback “cookin'”.
For the record, I adore 新疆菜 (Xīnjiāng cài.)
I ordered cold beer (hoping to get the locally brewed Sinkiang Black Beer that I’ve come to appreciate) but a different local brand arrived. Plus a wine glass, for some reason.
The meat, however, was spectacular. 
The skewers were literal sticks. Like actual branches off a tree.
The first surprise in Ürümqi was the snow. I had thought of Xinjiang as a desert, but in the winter it’s cold and snowy. It was 10ºF (-12ºC) when I arrived.
Note the English, Chinese, and Arabic script on the sign. Because of the uneasiness around potential Uyghur violence, there were metal detectors throughout the city, including my hotel.
The reception desk opened out to a mall which, like millions of other places in China, was mostly empty and covered with “luxury brand opening soon” signs.
The snow-dusted street below as seen from my hotel room. (It started snowing again overnight.) 
Western hotel chain, Western comfort.
In the far, far west of China is a vast province (well, technically, one of China’s five autonomous regions) which is bordered by the provinces of Gansu & Qinghai to the east; the autonomous region Tibet to the south; the countries of Mongolia, Russia (a tiny bit), and Kazakhstan to the north; and the countries of Kyrgystan, Tajikistan, and Afghanistan to the west. Plus — depending on your political & cartographic dispositions — maybe Pakistan and/or Kashmir and/or India to the southwest.
新疆 (Xīnjiāng) literally means “New Frontier” and although the largest administrative district in China, it contains a mere 1.6% (21.8 million) of the nation’s population. Despite being all mountains & deserts, the Silk Road ran through it, making it the crossroads between East & West, the home of dozens of ethnic minorities, and one of the places in China I’ve always wanted to experience most.
Xinjiang is roughly divided into two parts: I plan to spend Chinese New Year in the capital of Ürümqi in the northern Dzungarian Basin and then head to the ancient oasis city of Kashgar in the southern Tarim Basin (where about 80% of Xinjiang’s restive Uyghurs live.)
FUN FACT: Ürümqi isthe city that is farthest from any ocean.
Between Shanghai & Xi’an and Xi’an & Ürümqi, I ended up watching a cheesy Chinese movie called Time Raiders. Twice. Without headphones.
I fear I’ve fallen in love with Sichun Ma.
Well, I’m a fucking idiot. For domestic Chinese flights, I’m always careful to book either business or first class. Because giant.
Looks like I slipped and ended up with an economy ticket for the Xi’an to Ürümqi leg of my trip to Xinjiang. I’m wedged perfectly between my seat and the one in front of me. Luckily, I brought my copy of Meditations to read because Stoicism is the only way I’m going to surive this.
Well, I’m back in Xi’an yet again. The pollution was so bad that you could actually see it inside the airport itself.
I always love seeing movies at the IAPM mall here in Shanghai. Before the movie starts, there is this CG short with cute little characters singing along to a song about shutting the fuck up and watching the movie.
朋友们， 安安静静的欣赏电影
Love that little lady bug with the aviator glasses, cigar, and five o’clock shadow.
I was the only one in First/Business Class on my flight back from Taipei to Shanghai. I asked — first in English and then, for clarity, in Mandarin — why the flight was so empty and the stewardess confirmed that it was because so close to Chinese New Year everyone in Taiwan stays home.
The “Made in Taiwan” sign above my gate at the airport was constructed out of old motherboards.
I can’t imagine that the Dream of Hobbiton pub in Taipei had anything I hadn’t already seen in New Zealand.
This imposing building is the Grand Hotel. Once again, we see the more-Chinese-than-China motif on a grand scale.
The solemnity of Taiwan’s Martyrs’ Shrine brings to mind Arlington National Cemetery.
I haven’t seen (or at least noticed) this rolling cloud motif in Mainland China, but the Taiwanese seem obsessed with it. 
Beautiful decorations throughout.
Once again, there was an elaborate changing of the guards.
It occurred to me that the military has just as elaborate traditions and rituals as any religion. 
I adored the purple blossoms in the sea of trees behind the shrine.
Fittingly, I found myself at Taipei’s Liberty Square the morning after Inauguration Day.
The sign above the main gate was, again, in Traditional Chinese but said something about “freedom.” 
To one side of the square is the National Concert Hall.
To the other, the National Theater and Concert Hall. (Although, to be honest, I might have gotten them backwards they look so similar.)
Opposite of the main gate is the imposing National Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. 
Looking back over Liberty Square from the steps of the Memorial.
Hidden in the base of the Memorial (and I say “hidden” because I didn’t see any signs and just happened to stumble upon it) is a cavernous exposition space. 
Lungshan Temple was more exquisite than any temple I have seen on the Mainland. 
It even had freaking man-made waterfalls.
Gorgeous. All of it. 
A Grade Two Historic Site? Way to be a dick, historical society.
