We arrived at the famed Kashgar Sunday market early enough that some of the vendors were still setting up shop. Our taxi dropped us off in the middle of a street packed with minibuses, donkey carts, horse carriages, motorcycles and pedestrians.

The street was lined with food vendors and Rick and I grabbed a freshly baked bagel before venturing into the heart of the market.

We didn't expect much from the market, because other travelers had told us it wasn't worth the trip to Kashgar. Keeping our expectations low from the start was a smart move, because we ended up being completely surprised by how crazy and colorful and entertaining the market was.

The market seemed to be flowing out from the street in every which directions -- we didn't know where it started or where it ended. We took the nearest dirt road past vendors selling chili peppers, turnips, carrots and tomatoes before we hit the parking lot -- designed especially for donkey carts.

The donkeys -- lined up neatly in rows in proper parking fashion -- looked a little forlorn sitting in the dusty, hot area that was marked with a "P." Nearby, some Uyghur men were checking out some live sheep for sale, grabbing the animals' rear ends and running their fingers through their wool. Across from the parking lot was the designated "hair salon" area where men were getting their heads shaved in the blaring sun. Rick took about a hundred pictures of them and they didn't seem to notice -- or maybe they didn't care.

Sensing that we had reached the end of that row, we turned down another ally, this time toward a paved area that led to a covered market. That was the household cleaning section, and wasn't very exciting, but I noticed a huge cluster of people jammed up against one another about a block away and figured we should go see what the fuss was about.

We squeezed our way through about a thousand muslim women all vying for a good position to nab the very best head scarf. Colorful fabrics were being waved through the air and the women sifted through them in a frenzy. In fact, the entire street was abuzz in such activity. The fabric vendors seemed to be having a good day -- selling polyesters of all colors -- including flashy gold and sequined numbers.

The covered part of the bazaar was a bit more touristy -- miniture and full-sized Uyghur musical instruments and fur hats seemed to be the big ticket items. Chefs could buy saffron for one yuan (12 cents) a gram. Rick and I bought two types of Uyghur tea, but passed on the dried snake and frogs.

When we left the covered area, not only was it hotter than ever, but it was crazier than ever. It suddenly seemed like the entire population of Northern China had decided to come to this Sunday market. We needed a bit of a break and bought some cold water and found a shady area under a roof overhang a bit away from the madness.

Before leaving we made another sweep through to see if we had missed anything interesting. At one point Rick and I were separated because of the crush of the crowd. When I was alone, muslim women would point to my digital camera and ask me to take pictures of them. (Here is another photo of a woman who wanted me to take her picture). One woman even asked me to take a picture of her husband. Then she, her family and ten of their friends gathered around to check out their photos.

Eventually we made our way out (about four hours after we arrived) and caught a taxi back to the hotel for a much needed rest.