Extraordinary Sale-a-thon Super Explosion!

Some people call them “Amazon Kindle Countdown” deals. However, I prefer the made-up term Extraordinary Sale-a-Thon Super Explosion. And, yes – there’s one happening right now.

A Eurasian Diary – the cross-China / Silk Road travellin’ tale that I lovingly rendered into existence one, painstaking Perpetua-typeface letter at a time – has now been literally super-exploded into a very fine deal for book-downloaders such as yourself. From Sunday 29 June through to the evening-time on Wednesday 2 July, the odyssey can be yours for 99 pence. That’s less than a pound!

Come get in on the cheap-ass action before 2 July is out!

These Kashgar Sunday Market goers search in vain for a copy of A Eurasian Diary. It is only available online.

As the currency referenced above might have suggested, this particular Extraordinary Sale-a-Thon Super Explosion is only available in the UK, at least this time. But, for people living in the world’s other countries, there will be similar explosions comin’ your way in due course. I’ll announce them here – so keep the eyes set on “peel.”

Yours truly (and after having eaten three rocky road bars, which I suspect you’ve noticed),

Liam

New paths forward

Walking around in the Taklamakan takes a bit of work. This vast desert that sprawls over Gansu and Xinjiang Provinces is dubbed “the place from which you cannot return” – so what on earth makes people want to dive in?

The Silk Road used to fork around this enormous desert, snaking along its northern and southern fringes, to reconvene in the town of Dunhuang. I’d arrived at Dunhuang at about eight in the morning, in order to spend the next two days exploring its dunes, slipping down their sides, and pushing myself to imagine what it might be like to be lost here.

The desert is more sea than land – more of a void than a geographic space – and, as legend seems to insist, it can threaten to pull you deeper inside itself through charm alone.

 

The dude of dough

One big cauldron of goodness

The alleyways of Kashgar’s Sunday bazaar stretch and twist and steam like so much, well, kneaded dough. And, however hot the work, this baker keeps cool as a cucumber throughout.

Here he spins and knots his savoury dough into big, thick braids, ready for boiling up bagels – a chewy, savoury variety you’ll find all over Xinjiang. And that’s not the only carb-a-licious snack available, either – down every high street, and even every alley, you’ll find options for bagels, seed-speckled naan breads, gooey pork-filled dumplings, or even deep-fried straw bread coiled into delicious wreaths. You can take your pick of bready delights, a pot of strong, black tea, and lunch is utterly sorted.

It is a veritable yum-a-thon of tasty proportions.

 

Sale now on!

In Osh, Kyrgyzstan, this gentleman is pleased to learn of the book’s new low price

In celebration of nothing in particular, I’ve decided to drop the price of A Eurasian Diary on the UK Amazon shop! In fact, I’m more than simply “dropping” the price. I’m slashing it. Mashing it. Liquefying it. I am literally microwaving the price.

That’s something to smile about!

Download now for one pound and fifty-four pence (after tax!)

What have people said about A Eurasian Diary?

“Funny and observant!” – Amazon reviewer

“Both informative and entertaining, and makes for easy, happy, hilarious reading. Superb!” – my mother

The list goes on! Take a peek now, or share with Silk-Road-loving loved ones.

A Eurasian Diary: out now!

A Eurasian Diary is now available on Amazon! The book’s ready for download to Kindles, PCs, Macs and all your favourite Virtual Reading Machines.

Covering six-thousand miles over sixty-eight days, A Eurasian Diary is the travelogue of a roundabout kind of reunion. Journeying through China’s Far West, onto the Silk Road and onwards to Europe, we encounter lands that are complex, beautiful and exceedingly friendly – leading us into some welcome (and, at times, a little bit unwelcome, if we’re honest) diversions from Best Laid Plans.

Pick up the story today for $2.99 in U.S. or Canadian money (or £1.99 in the UK). And, with 10% of the proceeds going to support the Community Based Tourism programme in Arslanbob, Kyrgyzstan, you’ll be helping me give a little something back as well – bargainsauce!

Sounds, glorious sounds!

The great thing about being a bit of a luddite is I get quite excited about new discoveries long after everyone else thinks they’re perfectly ordinary. My newfangled bread-toasting machine is the best thing since, well, you know!

Besides discovering toasters, I’ve also just discovered SoundCloud  – and I’m getting stuck in by posting some lovely musical sounds I picked up during my Eurasian travels.

And here’s one of them!

One of my favourite memories from the trip was happening upon a big Uyghur milonga that takes place each afternoon in Renmin Park, in central Urumqi. Three or four dozen patrons assemble in a concrete plaza in the middle of the park, set up big speakers playing the best of the Uyghur pop universe, and set about dancing and twirling till the sun goes down. Partners flow in and out of the circle as the music plays – amongst the dancers, you see Chinese profiles and Uyghurs profiles alike; the young join the old; there was even an off-duty soldier taking the time to boogie with the best of them.

This song was one of the ones played on the day I happened to show up. One year later, I still get this catchy ditty stuck in my head from time to time – something I must admit I don’t mind in the slightest. And I love the fact I can infect your own beautiful brains with some musical earworms from the trip as well…. 🙂

 

The end of the lines!

I’m currently as happy as a very happy thing. Take your happiest emoticon – the one with the smile that takes up the entire lower half of the face, and squeezes the eyes tightly shut. Now imagine that emoticon swollen up and plunked on the torso of a real live human being. Hi. That’s me.

After reaching the end of A Eurasian Diary, then working through a handful of edits, I’m happy (as noted) to say that I’ve saved the file as “Final v1” … in other words, it’s done.

…at least until “Final v2” comes along, and perhaps “Final v3.” But, nevermind that… it’s done!

(dances on desk)

(steps on keyboard)

(accidentally types gobbledygook with dancing feet)

(hjsdsdksdksdiuewuhksdsdsdsdkdsksdkskskjsd)

(likes it)

What are some initial reflections on this big, bad, great little experience? One thing that stands out is how different travel writing feels to me now, compared with either fiction or journalism. At first, I’d expected that writing about a journey would feel like blending these two forms into a kind of storified biography, which is indeed how it felt at the very start. As the writing went on, though, the manuscript took on a new life – travel writing is very much a form in its own right, which I suppose I’d never completely appreciated before.

My favourite aspect of it is that you get to be (well, you have to be) objective about your own subjectivity.

The final leg!

There comes a time in every journey when the gravitational pull of home takes over – psychologically as much as geographically, you’re closer than ever to completing your quest, and getting closer by the second.

That’s where things are with my wee little travelogue project – I’m now writing the very final paragraphs in A Eurasian Diary, with just 2,000 words to go till the whole first draft is done and dusted…! Wowsers. Should I be ecstatic or misty-eyed?

Whether with actual travel or with a big writing project, both emotions seem to apply. There’s sadness that your stream of discovery is drawing to a close, and that your daily triumphs in conquering the terrifying unknown (a.k.a. unwritten pages) are soon to be all completed. But, there’s also more than a bit of pride in having survived the quest you set out for yourself, and you can now indulge in some wonderful, well-earned comforts: spare time, and fantastic memories. Plus, once you’re done, you know you’re even better equipped now to go and do it again.

Hard bargains

Kashgar’s Sunday Market is one of the great bazaars of Central Asia – the market just before Eid celebrations in 2012 meant the place was even busier and more raucous than normal.

This clothes seller offers up an uncertain scowl as her customer hems and haws at the selection on offer. Behind, shashlyk dealers fan their charring skewers, readying lunches for hungry shoppers.

Ordaishki Road

In the collapsing backstreets of Old Kashgar, streetsigns guide travellers in Arabic, Chinese and English.

As the town is slowly razed and rebuilt – with mudbrick houses demolished, and alleys paved into roads – it’s hard to tell how meaningful the old signs will be in the future.