last night, after spending the day wandering around the amazing timurid mausoleum of khoja ahmed yasavi, i found myself in a car on a foggy rutted icy mountain road, driven by an extremely aggressive driver who would avoid potholes by violently jerking the wheel from left to right, often veering into the other lane as cars came straight towards us. on the radio blared a bad dance remix of "i will survive". i kept thinking: this is why i love traveling in the developing world.
i think mrs. noz was less amused.
