comments encouraged..: this week i

stuck out my thumb and hitchhiked westward into kyrgyzstan. or, as herman cain might call it, kyrgyzzy-gyzzy-gyzzy-gyzzy-stan-stan.

enjoyed the company of chinese truckers, wooly camels.

realized they travel in caravans for safety. new silk, same road.

passed the occasional shadow.

got my kyrgyz passport welcome stamp as the sun set.

asked the border guard if his "town" had a place to sleep. learned that a kyrgyz border guard's definition of "hotel" differs from mine.

entered the six room building. a few surprised looks, but their conversation didn't grind to a halt. one locked store room with surely-expired packaged goods, one freezing covered porch, two rooms packed with tipsy smokey kyrgyz truckers playing cards or dozing in cramped cots, one room for the family that seemed to run the joint, the boiler closet for me.

hunkered down for the night. paid the matron six dollars for a "bed." kept waking up to her coming into my "room" to either re-ignite the cauldron to keep us "warm," to prop a "table" against the "door" to keep the whining dog outside, or to have a cigarette where her family "wouldn't see her" smoking. kyrgyzstan, i love you already. no quotes there.

snagged the first truck out of dodge.. after the teamster had his shot of vodka.

rode north. morning out the passenger's side window.

shared the cab..

..shared the road.

changed trucks twice in the evening snow. break-lights ahead of us, oncoming traffic to the left.

rolled into osh, new year's eve.

prepped with the best of them.

walk behind people who dress like they know what they're doing when the road is icy, the vehicular traffic is close and fast, and a sidewalk is a foreign concept.