My host family in Wuwei had asked me weeks earlier if I had any plans for the National Day break (October 1 to October 8, where there is no school and many, many employees have the entire week off for travel and celebration). I had answered, “no,” for I was apprehensive of making plans for the week and experiencing the massive migration of Chinese families back home and throughout the country for travel. In retrospect, I am glad I didn’t plan any far-reaching adventures, for not only are some of the greatest adventures those closest to home, but also because on National Day alone (Oct. 1) over 15 million railway trips were made, 1,000 passengers missed their flights, and 113 million people headed to resorts throughout the country. In total over this break, 560 million trips by roadway are expected (all numbers courtesy of the PRC Ministry of Transport).

And so, being without any plans or desire to travel far away from Wuwei, my host family invited me to spend the 中秋节 (zhong qiu jie, Mid-Autumn Festival) with them. It was a day, and a story, that took place in three acts.

The first act was a trip to the Tengger desert in Wuwei, which I believe is China’s third largest desert, but regardless, it was my first trip ever to a desert, and as it extended in all directions farther than I could see, it was a sufficiently large desert. At the entrance to the desert exists a small hotel and restaurant structure, which in the inside is filled with more greenery and water than likely exists in the entirety of the actual desert itself, not to mention a small playground and arcade that exists on the periphery for young children.

Now, I had no true idea what one even does at the desert, though I felt this would be the perfect desert for any desert activities: the sun was bright, but not overpowering, the wind strong enough to be cooling, but weak enough to not blow sand in my face, and the temperature hovered around 70 degrees; so, a perfect desert.

While I was standing there, wondering what one does in a desert beyond searching for an oasis, my host dad had rejoined us, a tiny red sled in tow. We loaded it up with our water, jackets, and picnic lunch that my host mother had brought along for the day, and began the trek up and down the sand dunes until we found a sand dune that we could claim for ourselves for the next few hours. At first, my host family seemed strangely insistent on finding the perfect sand dune according to some criteria that were unknown to me, until I realized that the sled was not simply a sled for hauling items through the sand (a plastic camel, if you will) but also for, what else, sand sledding.

Once a sand dune had been claimed, the picnic cloths laid down, and the luggage removed from the sled, the next few hours followed this pattern:

1. One of my host family members would sled down the dune gracefully, extricate himself/herself from the sled, and begin the steep climb back up the sandy face.

2. I would attempt to slide down the dune in a sled that was too small for me, making it about half way before falling out of the sled, and rolling rather gracelessly down the rest of the hill, accumulating sand in every crevice, pocket, sock, shoe, and uncovered piece of skin before making the climb myself. It was a strangely nostalgic experience, combining three memories from home: the sandy, earthy smell/taste of working in the garden, the winter sledding adventures down the hill at the high school with the family, and the cool fall cross country runs up that same hill.

3. Pause for a few minutes as a dune buggy would roar by, carrying Chinese passengers up and down the sand hills less than 30 meters away, listening to their screams of excitement as the vehicle accelerated down the dune.

4. Repeat as necessary, alternating in breaks to admire the desert.

5. Enjoy the picnic lunch, 面皮子, which is a Wuwei specialty, that is actually very delicious, especially considering its simple nature: two types of wheat products, a tougher wheat gluten and a chewier, smoother almost wheat jelly, topped with julienned carrots and a slightly spicy, garlic, onion and chili based sauce. For a desert dessert which surely couldn’t be deserted, we enjoyed a pomegranate.

6. Ride a camel.

Act two took place outside of the desert, in the Wuwei Desert Park, which has a fascinating history, because it was completely a desert (like in the video above) about forty or fifty years ago, but the climate and topography have since changed substantially, and there are now trees and brush similar to what reminds me of walking through cross country racing paths in the fall, along with man-made lakes and a winery. The winery, 莫高葡萄酒 (Mogao winery), began in 1990, is famous in Wuwei, exports a lot of wine throughout China, and the grapes are grown on site around the winery. A few thoughts and reflections on the winery:

1. The winery itself is incredible, and probably one of the most expensive, expansive, luxurious and impressive buildings I have visited, even outside my short time in China. Watch the short video below to experience a little bit for yourself.

2. I wasn’t able to catch the entirety of the tour, as it was presented in Chinese, and my Chinese isn’t good enough to understand fast conversations about complex wine-making techniques, but I heard enough while picking up a bottle of wine in one of the showrooms to understand that it was one of their most exclusive and expensive wines: 28,000 RMB ($4,117) per bottle. I quickly – and carefully – put it back down, noticing the fingerprints that were left on a bottle that probably hadn’t been touched in a very long while.

3. I bought a cheaper bottle of the icewine that I was assured was still very tasty to save for when my family comes to visit: 36 RMB ($5.29).

4. On our way out of the winery, we were driving past the vineyards when we noticed that many cars were stopped alongside the road. We quickly pulled over, got out, and jumped down off the road into the field of grapes to hunt for our own grapes to take home. We later found out from talking to some of the other pickers that this was a field that the winery didn’t tend to this year, and decided to let the field grow freely and for anyone that wanted to come and pick some of the grapes. The grapes in this field were incredibly small, blue, and sweet – appearing almost like clumps of miniature blueberries.

After dinner, dessert and the traditional preparations for Mid-Autumn Festival began. We cut up the fruits (apples, pomegranates, oranges and watermelon) into the traditional design – cut in half, ideally with eight triangles/wedges, as eight is a very auspicious number in Chinese culture, though that was sometimes difficult to perfect, as we ended up with fruit with 7, 8, 9, or 11 wedges in it. We placed the fruits and mooncakes in the small covered outdoor patio area, with a small light and incense, and then headed back inside to watch the Mid-Autumn Festival programming.

A quick digression about the mooncakes: they are fairly delicious, and come in a variety of flavors. I believe a classic mooncake is made with whole egg yolks inside the filling, but I was unable to find any of those in my searches the last week. There are fruit flavors, salty flavors, and even some mooncakes with meat, though I believe the fruit ones are the best. The outside is a crumbling cookie like consistency somewhere between a fig newton cookie and a pie crust, and the inside is a filling that is thicker and much less sweet than a fruit jam.

One of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had this past week as the Mid-Autumn festival approached was when I ran into a student who was working part-time over break at a grocery store in Wuwei, selling soymilk to earn a little extra money. The student saw me, two days before Mid-Autum Festival, and insisted on buying me six large mooncakes – more than I could possibly need, but a generous gift from the student, which was made even more meaningful when I found out that the student works 13 hours each day this week to earn about 70 RMB a day – and spent 11 RMB buying these mooncakes for me.