The driver knew it was hard to hear with the windows down so he leaned sideways to make his point and spoke slowly in Italian. “It is my older daughter who is the real cook. She even makes dinner with l’avocado.”
Stepping from the stuffy Soviet-era train to the snow-dusted platform below, I fill my chest with a welcome breath of mountain air laced with frost and cigarette smoke.
- Waiting for a Cappuccino: A Brief Layover along the Spice Trail
As I wait for my cappuccino, I subconsciously but quite mechanically begin to play with the salt and pepper shakers on the vinyl tablecloth—pairing them off as ballroom dancers across the checkerboard design, then transforming them into charging bull and lithesome matador.