I begin by sharing two stories, both from Kyrgyzstan.
The first is that while horse riding along Lake Song-Kol (I believe Kol and Kul merely mean “lake” in Kyrgyz, so this is a bit like saying Lake Song Lake but it is what everyone calls it in English), we stopped at a yurt camp with our guide to sleep for the evening. Shortly after we arrived a large number of middle-aged Kyrgyz entered the camp. These were, we learned, friends of the patriarch of the family that ran the yurt camp, and they had come for a big party. A little while later, while Grace was off to the privy, I was standing outside when some of the party spotted me. The loudest of the bunch, a man with an impressive array of gold teeth (if he had any real teeth remaining, they weren’t obvious) approached and asked where I was from. I told him I was American and he shouted “TRUMP” in my face, assaulting both my ears and my nose with the scent of pure booze. Older Kyrgyz men frequently shout TRUMP upon making my acquaintance; one earlier that day declared me “SON OF TRUMP,” causing peals of laughter from the assemblage and a deep sense within me of having gotten clowned.
Back at the yurt another of the men declared, “Trump хорошо, Obama хорошо, Putin хорошо” (Trump is good, Obama is good, Putin is good). While I couldn’t quite get on board with his judgment of world leaders I appreciated his broadmindedness. Thus acquainted, I was taken by the arm towards where their cars were parked to try “schnapps”. At this point Grace returned and we both had shots of vodka pushed into our hands with the instruction to down in one. This repeated twice more in short order. The men seemed particularly impressed with Grace’s fortitude and all wanted to take pictures with her.
Grace and our new comrades
