Out of the Pamir
   

We crossed the Kizil-Art pass and drove down into Kyrgyzstan with the Trans-Alai like a wall behind us.

At the Tajik border post the guards couldn't read the Roman script in my passport. I made the mistake of finding this funny - they bawled me out in Russian, searched evey pocket on me and went through every compartment of my bag looking for my money. They never found it - it was in my shoes.

At the Kyrgyz border post, we could look back to see the picture above. The guards were delighted to meet us. "I Am Narcotic Control." the first one said, bounding down the steps. "You have Narcotic?"

"Uh. . . No?" I replied.

"Good," he said. "Welcome to Kyrgyzstan."




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©2006 Hannibal Taubes
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