Tashkent, Uzbekistan

Kamilla

“Change dollars?” The driver said. “Bank, okay,” I said. “Bank no good. Market better.” I had no idea what he was talking about and his English seemed to be limited to those few words. Weaving in and out of traffic, he pulled out a notepad and wrote 1,900 and 2,800. Pointing to the 1,900, he said again, “Bank, no good. Market better.” “Yes, okay,” I replied, thinking he would take me to an exchange kiosk. Instead he reached down and from under his seat pulled out a box full of money. “How much?” I had only one hundred dollar bills. I handed him one. In an instant, he pulled out two huge wads of Som [the Uzbek currency] and while still weaving in and out of traffic quickly counted out the difference. A few minutes later we picked up my English-speaking guide, Kamilla, so I could ask her what had just transpired. “The government sets the rate and it’s much lower than what the street pays. What did he give you?” “I think 2,800.” “That’s a good rate. I had another group that got only 2,500.” “Can I trust this guy?” “I think so. Our firm hired him. Anyway, you don’t want to try it on your own, out in the street, that’s where you get in trouble. The police are always watching. You don’t want to end up at the police station. That would be a real hassle. If you like, we can go to the bank and get your money changed instead.”