Note: this was one of my low points. It’s not one of the better bulks, so it might be worth a miss. Just posted for continuity.
I’m at my favorite guesthouse in Bukhara and the screensaver is of Cleveland. I swear to you, it is a photo of Cleveland. I asked Laziz, a son of the owner, “Where is this???!” and he said, “I don’t know.” I know those bridges! I know that Terminal Tower! I know the BP building. how funny.
I hate this women like the devil (the lone tourist from a previous bulk).
She talks like you wouldn’t believe. Usually about her vast life experiences. I especially love when she tells me about everything she’s seen in the last two hours (I send her out with local guides and on her own. If I spend more than 8 hours a day with her I’ll throw myself in the canal) and describes it as if she’s telling me about something I could only dream of seeing, rather than something not all that spectacular that I have seen 10 times now. And she goes on and on. And she does this ALL THE TIME. It’s so unbelievable.
She’s reduced me to the point where I swear like a sailor.
She can’t help it. It’s the only conversation she can make, as her friends are just so befuddled and impressed by her “wild and wonderful travels” that she must tell everyone about them constantly. “oooooh,I’ll dine out on this for WEEKS!” she said after one event.
Please shoot me if I do that. And if only a little, please tell me kindly rather than shun me as most normal people would.
I take that back—about her conversation skills I mean. I’ve heard about her best friend whose lovely husband turned into a child-beating alcoholic and killed himself. (She’s the one who left her neslatte behind). And her other best friend who was a beautiful girl who died at 42 and she just knew something had happened without being told and started vomiting at the precise moment of her death.
I interrupted her at that point to talk to the busdriver about a pressing check point. I’m in love with that driver for being another being in the vehicle on that 9 hour drive through the desert. I owe him my life (photo at right: Valery: bus driver/hero).
I interrupt her constantly now as it’s the only way to shut her up—often by literally walking away. She’s only now kind of sort of beginning to figure out that i am not that impressed by her.
She announced in her let-me-tell-you-something-you-will-never-experience-or- figure-out-for-yourself-voice this morning, “A picture is worth a thousand words.”
Really. As is she’d thought it up right there. She was referring to one of her beautious point-and-shoot shots of an obsure indonesian tribe dancing or some such rot I only half listened to.
I know a lot of people who travel and let me tell you I have never met anyone quite like this in my life.
My beautiful friends at this guesthouse with a Cleveland panorama screen saver have given me, free of charge, my own room. I have mentioned I share a room with her (a bed in the next town) on this tour, right? Bless them!
I’m more than sure that this is what it would be like to have a mother-in-law.