My brother and his girlfriend had come to visit me for one week in Uzbekistan. After a last dinner together it was time to say goodbye. They got into a shared taxi heading to Tashkent to catch their flight, whereas I got into one going to Samarkand. There was just one other passenger in the car. After twenty minutes we stopped because he had to buy some water. I was alone in the car with the young taxi driver. The usual questions start: where are you from?
Then another not so unusual comment: you are beautiful. I make a non-consensual noise and stare away out of the window. The young man is shocked. Just after that the other passenger gets into the car, unaware of anything unusual, and we are on our way again to Samarkand.
The whole taxi ride I feel uncomfortable and angry, and, when the other guy gets out before we are in the center, also scared. Flashback to the first days of November. Lukas and I have just met, we are in Albania and have asked to camp in a beautiful garden full of orange trees. We can use the toilet, the owner of the place says, so I walk into the house.
The man leads me to it. Out of nowhere he leans in and kisses me on my lips. I am too shocked to react, quickly get into the bathroom and lock it.
When I get out Lukas is already standing there, waiting for his turn. Later I tell him what happened, but I am frustrated by my inability to describe how violated and powerless I feel. It is the first time on my travel that I feel unsafe. I have to make a bathroom break, so I head down a dirt road and squat down behind some bushes. Startled, I quickly grab Monster and pedal back to the road.
