Sunday night

We don't answer our door after 9.

Kids keep coming to sing to us in hopes of scoring some cash. It's as if the Ramadan Newsletter went out posting where the Americans live. I hope it also posted that we have no money.

When walking home from school last week we offered the money that we had in our pockets to a woman digging in the rubbish. Our offerings were rejected. It wasn't the first time we were denied. Why? Hmmm...

We have an idea.

Last night, David and I retired at 9pm. That was after trying to stay awake and laughing at ourselves that we were ready to sleep since 7pm. We watched episode after episode of Arrested Development and then an episode of Rescue Me that David had downloaded for nights just like last night. Just to make a tradition, those little rascals came and banged on our door. We silenced the tv, peered out the peep hole, Dave gave a hand gesture that it was indeed the little twirps, and then we resumed with our show that lulled us to sleep.

And that, my friends, was our Sunday night in Bishkek.