The Meaning of a Taco
I have attached a picture of something rather beautiful to this post. To those who live in North America, you are likely to remark, "But that's just a taco." However fellow expats who have had the experience of residing in the Giant Yellow Spaceship (my nickname for where I used to live), in the barren Kyrgyz mountains, where everything that sustains a person is precious, will understand me when I reply, "there is no 'just a' in the world." While the average North American is seldom more than a 10 minute drive from a cornucopia of tacos and burritos, my life in the GYS often found me hundreds of kilometers from anything resembling a taco or most of its ingredients. I would chuckle to myself whenever someone asked me what my hobby was when I lived in Naryn. I always said traveling or reading as that sounds far less bizarre and is easier to explain than "searching for tacos and burritos." And so I would spend my time searching for ingredients wh...
this isn't the sgt. This is the peon. The view at sunset is breath-taking
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