Termiz – I’m so close to Afghanistan I’d like to sneak over at night and pick up a package.

Arriving at Hotel Osiyo (Осиё), we’re met by the administrator who tells me she can’t take foreigners (as per the Lonely Planet guide book). I tell her I’m Russian. She laughs. I show her my Russian passport. She tells me I can stay. She asks if the other two guests are Russian guys, I tell her they’re British girls. She tells me that she can’t have foreigners stay here. I tell her I’ll be responsible for any mischief they cause. She tells me she can’t give a room with three beds to an unmarried man accompanied by two girls. I tell her she can give us a room with one bed to have a big cuddle party. She gives us a room with three beds.

Zolina the hotel manager is an amazing character. She’s from the Caucuses (Vladicavcas in Russia) and tells us about how safe it is here, how during the Afghan war, they’d hear shelling from Mazar-i-Sharif, how an American helicopter gunship opened fire on a wedding party and how surprisingly, the Afghans no longer hate Russians since most of the Afghan pilots and generals were trained in Moscow.

When we buy a honey-dew melon that happens to be less than perfect, she tells us she won’t eat it. As foreigners, we don’t yet know what to expect from local melons so it’s ok for us, but since she’s accustomed to eating the best ones, they will make her sick.

When we eventually get around to seeing the towns sights, we find the museum to be a let down and decide to see the other sights the following day.

We have dinner with a waiter who can best be described as an interesting character; think Michael Jackson’s child-like qualities combined with Jack Nicholson in the Shining. The guy has the mannerisms of a gay guy (apparently the term is camp) and we have fun telling him that he’s amazingly fabulous. Then our food comes out and there’s far more Shashlyk than we’d ordered, apparently Kusochnei (кусочней) means four small kebabs. Thanks for telling us we’ve ordered way too much food.

The waiter keeps coming over while we eat telling us how happy he is to have met us. Then out of the blue, he mentions that his parents died when he was young, that he lives on the street and how he looks after his brothers and sisters, no one helps him with money. It’s so difficult for him to support them on his salary, he’s been working there for ten years. We find it difficult to get rid of him.