For our last day in China, Cindy and I did not plan on much. There was a temple near the hostel that we thought we should visit, and then we would hang out in the city and do some souvenir shopping. The temple itself was not all that different from other temples we’d seen. It was, perhaps, housed in a larger complex than most, but otherwise unspectacular. Is it possible we’ve seen so many temples that we’re immune to their awesomeness?

Temple grounds

Next stop was a cafe, where Cindy had her first coffee in seemingly a month. I’m surprised her eyes didn’t bug out with excitement. While we were sipping coffee, I unveiled a secret plan to her. Two nights earlier, we were walking around the night market with Corey. We asked a random vendor how much a trinket from him would cost. He said $1,000, which is unbelievably stupid. There was no way I was going to hear a real price with Cindy or anyone else foreign in tow. Instead, I had to unveil the secret plan.

I would leave Cindy by her lonesome in the cafe and make myself appear as Chinese as possible. I ditched my western clothing, such as my beanie, fleece, and sunglasses. I smoked 3/4 of a cigarette and sat downwind of the last 1/4 as it burned itself out to smell like a Chinese man. I even purposefully placed the pack in the breast pocket with the top poking out so the vendors could see it. I knew I couldn’t appear local Dunhuang, but my goal was to appear like a Chinese tourist from a larger, more western city, like Beijing or Shanghai. Since Mandarin has been a second language for everyone I met ever since Pingyao, my Mandarin, primarily learned from my Shanghai, Tangshan, and Beijing family, would actually sound more proper in comparison. That is, as long as I said few words and stuck to what I knew I could speak.

Armed with my disguise, I ventured into the mean streets of Dunhuang. I don’t know if the merchants completely believed my costume, but it was a much more pleasant experience than walking around with Corey and Cindy in tow. An hour or so later, I had two souvenirs for a fraction of what the random guy quoted us two nights ago.

Walking around also reminded me what a beautiful experience anonymity can be. For most of my life, I’ve stuck out. Even when I didn’t stick out, like in Hawaii, I’m at least categorized. There’s nothing wrong with being categorized, it’s expected. But walking around by myself in Dunhuang, I didn’t stick out, and I wasn’t even categorized. I was just the default. And the default needs no explanation. I’m just there, one of 1.3 billion like me. I will miss that feeling.

To celebrate our successful souvenir shopping we walked into a roast fish restaurant. It was one of the finer meals we had in China, and that’s saying something. The restaurant only serves roast fish, mainly carp (alive when ordered, of course). They butterfly it, give it a spice rub, roast it, then cook it quickly with chilies, Sichuan peppercorns, green onions, and ginger. You can also choose what vegetables are placed underneath the fish–we chose potatoes and winter melon. It’s garnished with peanuts and served piping hot.

Our hostel arranged for a taxi to drive us to the airport to catch our 9 PM flight. Our itinerary took us to Urumqi, where we boarded a flight for Almaty, Kazakhstan. After 36 days in China, we would wake up in a new country.