Mark R. Jahnke
The sun is hot but the air dry, a light breeze floating through the fountains outside many of the buildings. Horns sound, tires squeal, but among it all I can still hear the trickle of the water through the jubes that line the roads like open storm drains. A few days ago, I accidentally fell into one, which was quite an entertaining sight for the fifty or so Tajiks who were sitting nearby, watching me with amusement.
When I first learned that the suspects of the Boston Marathon bombings were young, white men, I was secretly happy. With images of bearded, dark-skinned Arab men often associated with terrorism, the captured paler faces were a breath of fresh air amid a very tense week.
When choosing a restaurant overseas, the fewer English words on the menu, the better. I don't know what it was that I had for lunch that first day in Doha, Qatar, but it was delicious, a mixture of herbs and stewed chicken over rice with fresh flatbread, accompanied by traditional tea.