The Unit and I have reached Bukhara - home of the infamous Bug Pit I wrote about in my pre-trip Klimagrams. Fear not - we reside in a decaying Russian-built hotel which brings new awaremess of the word threadbare. Our suite is mostly insect-free and even more notably, contains a record-breaking quantity of furniture - more than any other hotel room where we have ever stayed. This place would be hog heaven, as we used to say back in Iowa, for the Salvation Army.
[Please excuse any piss poor English here - I am testing the functionality of our refrigerator with 9.2% Super Strength, Very Strong Skol Lager in half liter cans that the street stalls offer in addition to forty different types of vodka. What's a guy to do after spending the day composing Russian sentences like "When does the frigging bus leave?" or "Why don't you people build public toilets?".]
Our three room suite has a free-standing clothes closet, twin single beds, dresser with mirror, four chairs, coffee table, desk, twin end tables, a broken television, a small refrigerator right out of Ralph Cramden's kitchen and, believe it or not, a sofa! Our suite features french windows onto the rubbish-strewn roof of an adjacent building and a six inch diameter sewage pipe running across the floor between the bedroom and the sitting room. The toilet refills in an hour from a drip valve and the bathtub has no ring per se, the entire tub is rust colored.
[Preliminary conclusion - the Super Skol is not as potent as I thought - I was able to stumble down to the ice cream parlor downstairs and get another. The proprietor spoke only Tajik so I used theatrics to make my intentions known. I got lost on the return flight because I had to use the stairs (the elevator looks like it last worked during WWII.]
Travelling in Uzbekistan has been much easire than expected. In fact the police have been so indifferent to us that the Unit and I are actively trolling for trouble. The produce is dirt cheap (10 cents for a kilo of vine-ripened tomatoes) but most of the meat resembles White Castle sliders (an onion to meat ratio of 10:1). The local men are quite friendly until you tell them you are allergic to vodka. The local women cultivate eyebrows that join together, giving them the mother of all frowns. See future Klimagrams for details.
This message sent from the University of Bukara. Please don't reply because we'll be gone as usual. We hope to set up a personal email account in Kyrgyzstan - the country we have chosen for full moon #7 simply because we can't pronounce its name. If the Kyrgyzstanis have joined the 19th century and have telnet software available (unlike Bukara U.), we will pick up email from Compuserve and respond as warrented.
JimBo & SueBee
Copyright (c) 1996 Jet City Jimbo. All rights reserved.