A Day of Surprises, Small and Large (Pre-India Edition)

Morning:
Sunny, after another day and night of rain. A walk down the crooked street to the big and busy street where we catch the marshrutka. Some running, some walking ("Anya's running!" "Want mommy to run!"). Some observations: "Dere's dat kitty cat!" "Lo'a wa'er! (A lot of water!)" "Anya's almost to the store." Some matted grey fur on the side of the road -- someone's coat? The slow realization that I shouldn't have looked more closely to identify it: a sheep's carcass, eyes clouded over. Yuck. A heeby-jeeby feeling that doesn't quite fade until after I arrive with Anya at sadik.

Mid-Day:
Still sunny, breezy, as I leave a cafe lunch. A speedy 25 that circles down past the Circus, up past the Avtovokzal, and over to the Barqi Tojik electric company (how do they show their administrative faces this time of year? Aren't they ashamed?). The Barqi Tojik bus stop, and a curious, squinty gander up at oncoming traffic on Somoni. An 8! Flag it, ask whether they are really continuing on for the length of the forbidden avenue, up to the embassy. Assurances that they are. Slide into the remaining seat in the back, wedged in the middle of the 3-person bench. A chance to look at my surroundings: a surprisingly dapper marshrutka! Plastic green garlands woven along the seats and up above the dashboard. The song on the radio proclaims "Segodnia my kaifuem! (Today we're high on life!)"

Late afternoon:
A panicked call from Dan informs me that, although we thought to check and make arrangements for Emirates, Nepal, and Kazakhstan, we remain, stupidly, visaless for India. A few more calls, passports at the ready. The race is on: gallop down Kuprina to Karamova, scan for taxis while continuing at a fast clip toward the cabs that accumulate near Rudaki. Hail one, speed towards Bukhara Street for a sheepish visit and ultimately, thanks only to help from others, success. Literally ten minutes to collect our things (and Anya) at home and head to the airport.