As Told to Tintin
Imagine, if you will, showing up in the run-down parking lot of a third-world country's long-distance bus station at 6:30 in the morning, being trundled into the back of one of many waiting Russian-made cars (after much intense haggling, sometimes devolving into pushing and spitting), and being driven across two borders to a completely separate country, whose relations with members of the first are very strained.
Now, imagine doing it to ten hours of Russian techno music. It's amazing how boring a synthesized back-beat can be. That was how we got from Bishkek to Tashkent, from one of the poorer Central Asian countries, through its richest, into its most cultural.
