My eyes flash open wide and my heart beat went crazy, though, when Mitch maneuvered his horse quietly alongside mine, pulls me into him sideways, both of us leaning into each other from our saddles, spanning the distance between the horses, and we kissed. Wearing cowboy hats, gloves, and heavy jackets, I am comfortable in the bright sun, and I wish we could do more.Back home, we of course take care of the horses, first. Despite the cold high altitude air, they were the ones doing all the work of getting us up and back down. Mitch was careful to choose his route to give them solid footing, which extended the distance we actually had to travel. We got them settled into their stalls, brushed, watered and fed. I was, of course, slower at this than Mitch was and he had left the barn, first checking the heater on the wall near the door at the end away from the horses. He wanted the barn warmer than the outside but not too warm.I slid the large door just enough for me exit and as I pushed. "Introduction & Background" he typed and stopped. He wasn't really sure how to sum up this peculiar country.Gerry had been briefed before his trip so he knew something about the history of the place. Stuck out on the fringes of the Hindu Kush, sandwiched between Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, Gerry had wondered why the country wasn't called Kushtistan. That turned out to be the least curious thing about it.His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his morning tea. He still hadn't got used to the idea that the local girls working in the offices around Kolin had adopted western dress but still wore headscarves and veils. Fanima, the young woman that brought the tea was no exception. Her neat blouse and straight skirt would not have looked out of place in any London office. Her head covering and veil would have been accepted when combined with a jilbab or other form of robe. The combination of Next "work-wear" tailoring and the veil just seemed odd."Tea, Mr..
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