In particular the images of the Sunday Market in Kashgar captured me completely. The men in embroidered caps, faces like oiled walnuts, surrounded by richly coloured carpets and donkey carts. The rows of brass teapots and oil lamps. It became a burning obsession.
"Kashgar's in China you know" my husband said. "We might get to visit if we lived there."
So there you have it. A promise to visit Kashgar became part of the decision to move to China, all based on a book of photographs of a place I'd never been but longed to see. Once here, I was in no rush - Kashgar wasn't going anywhere. Then I heard about the attempted destruction of the Old City, narrow lanes full of traditional adobe houses, quiet and mysterious, and I knew the time had come to see before it was too late.
Kashgar didn't disappoint. It's all you imagine of an ancient silk road city and more. I think I won't write any more, and let you see for yourself the beauty of fascination of the place. Smell the spices, taste the juicy pomegranates and the char-grilled meats, feel the smooth cool dusty adobe walls of the quiet alleys of the old city and hear the hawker cries of the busy, bustling Sunday Market. You must go.
