Dinosaur Eggs

(at the shrine. On the lookout for non-existant fish in the holy pool. You can see some of the floating bread pieces.)

(selling dinosaur eggs. Bakhtior-aka and Muhamad Amin are at the right)

Although Bakhtior-aka is not the most worldly fellow, and would probably knocked to the curb were he to come to America, like most mammals he is incredibly well suited to his own local environment. Case in point: the bazar.

I hitched along with him and Muhammad Amin to the bazar to get groceries for last night's big dinner of shorvo (soup with boiled beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, cabbage, dill and green onion). Bakhtior basicallly huffs and waddles his way through the world, but when he gets to the bazar I see that this style of transport is ingenoiusly suited for skating from vendor to vendor, laughing off their best offers. Bakhtior is a veritable ballerina amidst the aisles of potatoes, meat, carrots, peppers, and toiletries. (I bought a nail clipper and Muhammad Amin decided he needed one too. $1.50! What a crazy deal!) Sure enough, just like last time in our search for khandalaks, Bakhtior knew that better deals were at hand, so we went to the back corner of the bazar and found our spot: carrots for 2 somoni a kg rather than the 3 somoni listed everywhere else. Next we moved on to the melons.

Khandalak season is over, but there are interesting new varities on offer. This week: I've dubbed it the dinosaur egg. See photo. After dinner we carved it up and, ladies and gentlemen, I had another "groan in my native language" moment. It was delicious and gives the ol' khandalak a run for my affections.

Speaking of runs, I seem to have dried up for the most part. And enjoyed a somewhat frutiful trip today to the national library.

More later,

Charles