And opposed to this sentence, as I shut the porthole against the Azeris, I could hear my father quoting Tom Stevens, his tutor at Oxford: “There is nothing that you can allow yourself not to know.” The maritime empire centered on the Mediterranean Sea.
“Ah.” Qirat laughed a heavy man’s laugh. His eyes were red and from a fresh pile he sorted cannabis flowers and seeds nto a Russki paper.
“There are three passages from Uzbekistan to China, and in one of them, in the Choust Valley, there are huge amounts of opium and cannabis, from years of caravans that traveled through the valley, smoked, and dropped the seeds on the ground. Please.” He lit the cigarette and passed it around. The smoke smote the throat. Central Asian hashish.
The Silk Road – book cover
In the summer of 1991 Tsur Shezaf went to cross Asia from Istanbul to Beijing on the silk Roads. It was a strange time – the Soviet empire was gone and nothing else emerged yet.
He was probably the first westerner to cross central Asia un attended by KGB after 70 years of Communism.
Between Georgia and the Chinese border he was accompanied by the king of Georgia Lado Bagrateyoni, traveling together in a battered “Lada” that was driven by the knight Zaza Zizishvili – an architect, adventurer and a man that waves his hands and catches passing money, drops them down and the money disappears.
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