We're all looking for something. We found it in a mud-brick house in the slums of a Central Asian capital.
I stood behind my American friend at the Kyrgyz-Kazakh border. It was raining from a cement colored sky, and so everyone was pulled in tight underneath the blue corrugated plastic roofing overhead. The crowd funneled into four main lines, marked by green signs printed in Russian and Kyrgyz: two for Kyrgyz Citizens, one for Kazakh … Continue reading Dreaded Crossings, Part 1
If meteorologists ever conducted a study on the climate surrounding the enormous bazaar near our house, I wouldn't be surprised if they found that it adversely affects surrounding weather conditions. During the winter, somehow as soon as you step foot inside, the temperature drops by at least double digits. Must have something to do with … Continue reading Their Cold Hands
We got to the place at a reasonable time, which is to say, over two hours late. The wedding celebration was being held at a restaurant that caters specifically to such events. A picture of the bride and groom perhaps ten feet tall and twelve feet across greeted us as we ascended the steps and … Continue reading A Kyrgyz Wedding
I parked the car at the construction bazaar near our house. I clutched my phone where I had made my list. I was focused. I was unstoppable. My black coat was zipped and my signature checkered hat was pulled low. I was prepared to argue in the local language over prices if I had to. … Continue reading The Old Car at the Bazaar