Across Continents

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The Full Monty

Not a bad effort I suppose. A small omelette in lieu of the fried eggs, baked beans replaced with red kidney ones in a tomato sauce. But proper toast, and a quite acceptable mug of tea. I’d arranged to meet my host for the next few days in Bishkek at Fat Boy’s Cafe, mainly because I liked the name of the place. And it was on my small city map. Although early evening, I’d covered a good eighty miles or so to reach the Kyrgyz Republic’s Capital, and considered the Fully Monty breakfast option to be fair game.


No sign of the Honorary Consul who supposedly frequented the establishment, but I’d see if I could look him up later. I’d pondered who should be buying who a mug of tea. Or something stronger. Instead, an evening sat in the pleasant sunshine, chatting about life in Bishkek. The cafe was just a stone’s throw from the burnt out remains of the State Prosecutor’s Office, and a short walk from the White House, the Presidential residence ransacked a few months earlier by an angry mob.

This evening, though, the city seemed tranquil. The rush hour traffic, such as it was, had dissipated. Young couples strolling along the wide pavements. Fountains dancing in the central square, children running amok in the fine cooling mist. Families wandering through the parks. Tree-lined boulevards. Not what I’d expected for what the US deems to be an active war zone.


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