Off to Turpan (or Turfan or Tulufan) from Urumqi, just left the hostel the bike handlebar leaves me. The screw which is inside the pipe is gone for good. We get to a mechanic near the hostel, there is a street where all the bike shops are. This custom is practiced a little 'everywhere, at least since Georgia: you need glasses?, there is a shopping zone of glasses, you need a guitar? there is a zone of musical instrument shops. Very convenient and practical.
But mostly here they sell brand new road and mountain bikes (mostly if not only Giant) and do not know nothing about mechanichs. A tiny deaf gentleman in cycling clothes takes us to an old man who does repairs to cheap city bikes and helps explain the problem. With mute gestures we understand very well. So the old repair man starts to struggle and finds the right screw.
Turpan we're coming! The way out the city of Urumqi is long and uphill. Maybe it seems longer than it is because it is in the city, very busy with traffic. After the city began the stony desert, desolation. This is the western stretch of Gobi desert where is meets the Taklamakan, names that summons epic images, but indeed here's just a ugly rock expanse. When reality kills your dreams.