Eschewing Alexandria Eschate

After spending a considerable amount of time exploring Khujand by foot, I decided it was time to figure out how to make my escape to Dushanbe.  I had done a dry run to the bus depot the night before to ask a few questions about leaving times, the anticipated price, and do some reconnaissance to make this a worry-free journey.  Literally no trip I have ever made has been worry-free, but sometimes it's nice to feel like I'm on top of my life.  I arrived at the parking lot at 7am with a groggy demeanour and a taste for entitlement. This meant I wanted the front seat and I would stop at nothing to get it.  I got it.  And I apologize for nothing.  However, I had to wait until 11am for the group taxi I had commandeered to actually take off because my driver was some sort of schiester whom I totally despise but that's quite frankly not central to this story.  Getting this convoy up and running really took a long time.  There were so many people looking to go to Dushanbe, for good reasons, but there was no first-come, first-serve system to properly allocate travellers so every group taxi (and, let's just paint the visual here for you, every poorly-made Chinese imitation Jeep) was filling up in tandem, and very slowly.  

While the rain soaked window may have caused for this unsuspecting mother to be cast in a less than flattering light, I am constantly mesmerized by this photo's beauty and surprised at how, every once and a while, I take a photo that makes me wish people would ask me if I had ever taken a photography class.  

It was actually so slow, and so painful that it hurt to watch.  First a woman showed up with a stove.  A stove!  And she needed everyone to put it on the roof and then tie it down.  So that's what everyone did.  And then somehow (and don't ask me how because I don't speak Tajik and I wasn't on the steering committee for this operation anyway) they decided to untie it, bring it down and put it on another car. Guys, we're all going in the same direction.  I like to sometimes think that there is probably a reason for all this and that they had a master plan, but then I also like to think that no, it was just a make-work project and as such, here we are.  So I buried my face in my book and waited for the pandemonium to die down.  I ended up with a couple of Pamirians, a kindly Dushanbe businessman, an old woman, some young guy, and one or two other forgettable characters.  

So infuriating.  They have stoves in Dushanbe.  And they have cookies!  Stop transporting cookies between the two cities!

Finally we were up and running, which meant we actually circled the city performing some errands before we were able to hit the road.  Of course we needed snacks so we stopped at a bakery and got some fresh naan bread, and then to the convenience store to get some water.  I could have gone for a Starbucks but whatever, I had gotten the front seat so I wasn't going to start making my demands known just yet.  When we stopped at a gas station the driver hollered at me to give him money.  Essentially I had to pay him before we had taken off, which means I now bore the risk of the journey.  I eyed him contemptuously as if to say, "Alright, m**********r, we've crossed the Rubicon now.  If you try to pull a fast one on me, I have no choice but to end you."