A different breed of foreign visitor is found in Uzbekistan, following on the heels of English language menus. Olive uniformed soldiers guarding the capital’s metro stations, curious locals haggling in the bazaars, and youths wandering the back streets, practice their English, and enquire, “Touriste?” The alpinist satiated on Pamir and Tian Shan, the traveller weary of daylong journeys crammed inside a 4x4 with teasing glimpses of astounding landscape privy only to those with the strength and time to cycle, or the resources to afford private transport, are reduced to sight seeking, caffe latte consuming, photo snapping, gewgaw shopping 'touriste'. The wannabe explorers, centuries late and addicted to WIFI, sympathize with each other, ‘this is the cultural leg of the journey.’ On the plus side, bowels have found a sort of equilibrium, though it remains a risk
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