Of course, I have just posted an entry on how calm and not out of place I feel here in Bishkek, and lo, there was an anti-terrorist operation at 6:00 in the evening on Thursday not a kilometer from where I live as the crow flies. Initial accounts suggest they were planning some kind of terrorist act in Bishkek. Four protagonists were killed in the operation. There were no civilian casualties. All our students are fine, but I've updated ASU just in case there are any parental inquiries.

Don.

• Vague US report
• More detailed Kyrgyz report (mirror)

Classes went calmly today. We did first semester evaluations.

Following up on yesterday's police operation, I was asked to check in with the embassy. It's closed today since it is a national holiday in KG. Still the Public Affairs Specialist was kind enough to answer. The embassy is looking at this as a one-off event. They are not contemplating any special warnings or change of travel status, so the State Department in general will not either. I've asked of the local populace, and their opinion can be summarized with, “Wow, what nasty folks. Where shall we go for lunch?” I got my hair cut this morning. The barberess could scarcely summon the energy to comment on it. She was much more interested in how long it had been since my last haircut. In other words, all is calm.

Speaking of hair, back in 2003 I wanted to go to a costume party as Billy Idol. Melissa, whom I knew through yoga, was a hair dresser, and she said she could turn me platinum blond for cheap. I agreed, with the understanding that the day after Halloween she would dye me back to my regular hair color.

She did a great job. The pictures of me as Billy Idol are freaking scary, too scary for me to post here. The next day, though, she said, “Y'know, Don, I bet if we just tone down the hair a bit, you would like it.” What the hell. Why not give it a try? She returned me to the hair color of my mid-20s, which so much more resembled my mental picture of myself that I went with it, and now I have colored my hair for 12 years.

This morning I got it colored and cut again here in KG. It's always dicey getting coloring done in a place that doesn't know you or use the same brand of chemicals. Impossible to say what will happen. Last time I tried it in Kazan, I came back with brown hair. This time I was determined to do it differently, and it worked rather better.

But looking in the mirror, I think it's probably time to stop and simply grow older gracefully. So once I get back to AZ, I think I'll just shave myself down and let the gray or brown or whatever is there finally start coming through without interference.

It turns out that all the protagonists killed in Thursday's police operation were from Kazakhstan. A recent report suggests that they were intending to carry out an attack on Kant Air Base for the purpose of taking possession armaments. On the one hand that sort of makes sense. On the other, a small group of people attacking an air force base for weaponry doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

Here's a recent report from Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (mirror).

The city's reaction to the news is still completely uninterested. I wouldn't hesitate to come here at this stage. DL.

97° here in Bishkek at lunch time. I stop by Империя пицца (Pizza Empire) for a bite. On the menu is a soup called ашлям-фу "ashlyam-fu," supposedly a cold, spicy soup. Now mind you, I'm from AZ. It's rare for me to find something that I actually consider spicy outside of an Indian or Thai restaurant, or maybe sometimes a Chinese restaurant. Even Mexican food is bland for me. But cold spicy soup kind of sounds good today. I order it. Well, I'll be damned. It actually is somewhat spicy. Imagine a cold broth with a fairly watery hot-pepper and tomato taste. Mix in thinly sliced cucumbers, carrots and bell peppers and noodles that are almost as thick as udon noodles. Then there is this stuff that looks like sliced tofu, which turns out to be a starch gel (either mung bean or potato or corn starch) that has solidified to cuttable consistency. This soup is actually pretty good. I would make something like this back in Phoenix... well, minus the noodles and starch... It turns out that it is not a Kyrgyz dish, but a Dungan one. (No, don't ask me who the Dungans are. That's what you have Wikipedia for.) If you read Russian, here is a nice reference for the dish (mirror).

Most of the night was 90° here. One forgets how hard that makes sleeping. Growing up in AZ we always had at least a swamp cooler, which, granted, wasn't as effective later in the summer when things got humid, but it still helped. Here I purchased a fan, which helps a bit, but I still sweated like a horse. Grumble. If I had wanted to be hot, I could have stayed in AZ.

I think I need to move back to Seattle.