Kuqa Travel Notes: Falling Asleep Under the Kucha Moonlight at Mijiang Yunshe
As soon as I stepped out of Kucha Kizil Airport, the southern Xinjiang wind wrapped in dry warmth swept over me. The owner of the Mijiang Yunshe guesthouse, whom I had contacted in advance, was already waiting at the old town parking lot in a small sightseeing vehicle, waving and shouting "Here we come" from afar, as warmly as welcoming family. Pulling my suitcase through the colorful archway on Hestan Road, the shadows of grapevines on the brick wall swayed gently. In just five minutes, I arrived at this guesthouse hidden in the heart of the old town—right diagonally opposite is the blue brick courtyard wall of Kucha Grand Mosque, and it’s only about a hundred meters’ walk to Drum Beating Alley. The location is perfectly tailored for exploring and eating in the old town.
The moment I opened the door, my friends and I couldn’t help but exclaim "Wow." The courtyard floor paved with colorful tiles looked like spilled Adire cloth, the intertwined floral patterns on the wooden carved doors and windows filtered sunlight into scattered spots, and the stair railings boldly clashed in orange and green.
After dropping off our luggage, we headed straight to Drum Beating Alley. This small street, called "Narhan Alley" in Uyghur, has long been a gathering place for folk artists playing drums and music. Just at the alley entrance, I heard the ensemble of hand drums and dutar. Several elders sat on small chairs performing, and passing girls lightly swayed their shoulders to the rhythm. The alley held many surprises: in front of a stall selling ethnic musical instruments, a craftsman was stretching the skin on a newly made hand drum, which made a crisp sound when tightened. I couldn’t resist picking up a small drum and tapping it a few times, instantly greeted by friendly laughter, and the initial sense of unfamiliarity vanished.
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, we went to explore the ancient Kizil Kingdom city. From the guesthouse, we walked east along Hestan Road, and in just over ten minutes reached the core area of the ancient city. The city walls here were built with locally unique rammed earth, weathered and mottled after thousands of years. At sunrise, sunlight poured over the walls, revealing varying textures like frozen waves.
Strolling along the base of the walls, we occasionally met locals leading camels, the jingling of camel bells mingling with distant bird calls, as if stepping into a silhouette of an ancient Silk Road caravan. The most touching part of the ancient city was its everyday details: elders playing chess on stone benches at the entrance of Kizil alleys, children chasing after ice cream carts, shouting "Saranghei" (Uyghur for "ice cream") with clear voices. Pausing at the ruins of Xuanzang’s preaching site, touching the weathered bricks, it felt as if the chanting and camel bells from a thousand years ago resonated in the air.
The ancient city of Kizil was livelier at dusk than during the day. We started from Drum Beating Alley and wandered along the colorful doors and windows of Men Bazaar. For 15 yuan, I bought a denim hat embroidered with patterns and watched craftsmen embroider flower hats with colorful threads at the Hat Bazaar. Passing by a barbecue stall on Hestan Road, freshly cut lamb sizzled in the tandoor, accompanied by freshly baked buns and a bowl of lamb pilaf. The aroma of meat mixed with cumin whetted the appetite. As night deepened, the Wuqia Night Market lights came on, and the scents of yogurt zongzi, mianfuzi, and tandoor meat filled the streets. After eating and drinking to satisfaction, returning to the guesthouse, the bar was already set with special cocktails, and occasional karaoke sounds from the next room mixed with the chirping outside, creating a particularly cozy atmosphere.
On the morning we left Kucha, sunlight passed through the glazed lamps casting colorful spots on the ground, and the ancient city walls of Kizil in the distance were dyed golden red by the morning light. It turns out the best travel is never just a fleeting glance but immersing oneself in the texture of a city: basking in the southern Xinjiang sun in the courtyard of Mijiang Yunshe, hearing the freshest hand drum sounds in Drum Beating Alley, and conversing with millennia of history before the ruins of the Kizil ancient city. These small warm moments and touches of emotion are the most moving aspects of Kucha.