Xinjiang, China. A land of barbed wire fences and racial tensions, but also a land of smiling faces. Everywhere we go, we’re welcomed with open arms - by Uyghur, Han Chinese and Kazakh people alike. Despite the ethnic conflicts in the region, everyone comes together to get a glimpse of an authentic foreigner. They want to take photos together and hear stories about Big Ben. Friendly greetings follow us through nomadic villages, mountain passes and modern Chinese cities. Rice wine and green tea flow freely, and everyone’s got a folk tune to play on the guitar. There is one exception to the free-flowing friendliness. Police and army personnel lurk on the street corners, clutching machine guns. Violent confrontations and terrorist attacks in the region have occurred, and ‘re-education camps’ do exist. But for the most part, life in the cities ticks along as usual, and the daily work of a soldier often consists of ten hours standing of next to a park fence. When anything vaguely ‘suspicious’ does occur, you can be sure that these young apprentices of the state are bored enough to immediately be on it. Our presence has been considered a suspicious occurrence on several occasions, generally resulting in a tense document checks from stern-faced officials. ‘Oi! What are you doing here?! You need a special permit to be in this district.' A booming voice, perfectly enunciated, punctuates the silence. It’s a Friday night in the small town of Xinyuan, and this is the first fluent English we’ve heard in almost two weeks. It makes us jump. ‘We’re just walking back to our hotel.’ ‘You know you need special police permit to enter this district?' ‘Oh really? No, we didn’t know that’. We’re not 100% clear about the region’s confusing travel restrictions ‘Just warning you. No problem for me. I’m Roman. Would you like to come in to our party?’ We nod, thrilled by the sudden change of pace. It’s a Kazakh Bar Mitzvah ceremony. A marble-coloured hall is filled with a dozen round tables, divided by elegant pillars. Each table is topped by feast-like quantities of sharing dishes, in patterned porcelain bowls. Roast horse meat, chilli-fried vegetables with peanuts, traditional baursac bread… All sorts of assorted delicacies. We’re ushered to a table of smartly-dressed men, who greet us with gruff handshakes. I glance across to the other side of the room, which is full of silk-clad women, and realise that the seating plan follows a strict gender divide. A single, large shot glass Is passed around our table, and everyone watches. Soon it’s my turn. I feel a dozen eyes on me. I’m knocked back by the spirit like nothing I’ve ever drunk before, both by its sweet and pungent botanical taste and its ludicrous strength. It’s immediately ‘chased’ with a slightly-sparkling mug of fermented horse milk, which resembles a sour, dairy beer. Our newfound friends point and chuckle at my pained expression. The gender divide is eventually broken on the dancefloor – men and women spill out from in to the centre of the room to entangle in traditional folk dances. Everyone seems to get a chance go up on the stage, and everyone seems to be an impressively confident and accomplished singer. As I watch the spectacle unfold, Roman tells me of his career in International Relations, and of the time he met Angela Merkel. He’s full of surprises. Before the night is over, we make it on stage ourselves, and play a cover of Jimmy Cliff's ‘The Harder They Come’ Jimmy Cliff, followed by a bread-themed rap. As we leave the stage to polite applause, a woman places small green Kazakh hats on to our heads. After some more dancing it's time to leave, walking arm in arm down the street with our new friends, drunk from fermented horse milk. It's been an unforgettable night. We bid them farewell and head in to our hotel. Before we reach the second floor, angry shouts reverberate up the staircase. A pair of armed policemen have followed us inside. We spend a nervous fifteen minutes making sure that we come across as clueless, harmless backpackers who don’t understand the word ‘passport’, and then we’re off to bed.