
The taxi driver
Our taxi driver veered off the highway through town down a dusty, narrow street. It wasn’t in the plan but what the heck. Resisting the arm waving ‘heyllooo’ shouting enthusiasm and generosity of Uzbeks is just futile. At the side of the substantial corn filled yard stood our driver’s wife. With paddle in hand she unglued the hot nan/lepioshka bread off the wood heated … Continue reading The taxi driver